{"id":"01KG8AKTZCRGGPCT5VRYV720R7","cid":"bafkreibxscdqhiaqjq57yuyvsev3tkratrugd2tcya2vvrxldqkd4sajei","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":7596,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","start_line":7527,"text":"CHAPTER XL.\r\nPLACARDS, BRASS-JEWELERS, TRUCK-HORSES, AND STEAMERS\r\n\r\n\r\nAs I wish to group together what fell under my observation concerning\r\nthe Liverpool docks, and the scenes roundabout, I will try to throw\r\ninto this chapter various minor things that I recall.\r\n\r\nThe advertisements of pauperism chalked upon the flagging round the\r\ndock walls, are singularly accompanied by a multitude of quite\r\ndifferent announcements, placarded upon the walls themselves. They are\r\nprincipally notices of the approaching departure of _“superior,\r\nfast-sailing, coppered and copper-fastened ships,”_ for the United\r\nStates, Canada, New South Wales, and other places. Interspersed with\r\nthese, are the advertisements of Jewish clothesmen, informing the\r\njudicious seamen where he can procure of the best and the cheapest;\r\ntogether with ambiguous medical announcements of the tribe of quacks\r\nand empirics who prey upon all seafaring men. Not content with thus\r\npublicly giving notice of their whereabouts, these indefatigable\r\nSangrados and pretended Samaritans hire a parcel of shabby\r\nworkhouse-looking knaves, whose business consists in haunting the dock\r\nwalls about meal times, and silently thrusting mysterious little\r\nbillets—duodecimo editions of the larger advertisements—into the\r\nastonished hands of the tars.\r\n\r\nThey do this, with such a mysterious hang-dog wink; such a sidelong\r\nair; such a villainous assumption of your necessities; that, at first,\r\nyou are almost tempted to knock them down for their pains.\r\n\r\nConspicuous among the notices on the walls, are huge Italic inducements\r\nto all seamen disgusted with the merchant service, to accept a round\r\nbounty, and embark in her Majesty’s navy.\r\n\r\nIn the British armed marine, in time of peace, they do not ship men for\r\nthe general service, as in the American navy; but for particular ships,\r\ngoing upon particular cruises. Thus, the frigate Thetis may be\r\nannounced as about to sail under the command of that fine old sailor,\r\nand noble father to his crew, _Lord George Flagstaff._\r\n\r\nSimilar announcements may be seen upon the walls concerning enlistments\r\nin the army. And never did auctioneer dilate with more rapture upon the\r\ncharms of some country-seat put up for sale, than the authors of these\r\nplacards do, upon the beauty and salubrity of the distant climes, for\r\nwhich the regiments wanting recruits are about to sail. Bright lawns,\r\nvine-clad hills, endless meadows of verdure, here make up the\r\nlandscape; and adventurous young gentlemen, fond of travel, are\r\ninformed, that here is a chance for them to see the world at their\r\nleisure, and be paid for enjoying themselves into the bargain. The\r\nregiments for India are promised plantations among valleys of palms;\r\nwhile to those destined for New Holland, a novel sphere of life and\r\nactivity is opened; and the companies bound to Canada and Nova Scotia\r\nare lured by tales of summer suns, that ripen grapes in December. No\r\nword of war is breathed; hushed is the clang of arms in these\r\nannouncements; and the sanguine recruit is almost tempted to expect\r\nthat pruning-hooks, instead of swords, will be the weapons he will\r\nwield.\r\n\r\nAlas! is not this the cruel stratagem of Bruce at Bannockburn, who\r\ndecoyed to his war-pits by covering them over with green boughs? For\r\ninstead of a farm at the blue base of the Himalayas, the Indian recruit\r\nencounters the keen saber of the Sikh; and instead of basking in sunny\r\nbowers, the Canadian soldier stands a shivering sentry upon the bleak\r\nramparts of Quebec, a lofty mark for the bitter blasts from Baffin’s\r\nBay and Labrador. There, as his eye sweeps down the St. Lawrence, whose\r\nevery billow is bound for the main that laves the shore of Old England;\r\nas he thinks of his long term of enlistment, which sells him to the\r\narmy as Doctor Faust sold himself to the devil; how the poor fellow\r\nmust groan in his grief, and call to mind the church-yard stile, and\r\nhis Mary.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJS9YSMC19A4WTN12TSZ1","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKTZV0FS4H4JN6WPJZYC3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:17.388Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:31.537Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}