Late one night while hiding in a farmer’s granary, Israel saw a man with a lantern approaching.  He was about to flee, when the man hailed him in a well-known voice, bidding him have no fear.  It was the farmer himself.  He carried a message to Israel from a gentleman of Brentford, to the effect, that the refugee was earnestly requested to repair on the following evening to that gentleman’s mansion.

At first, Israel was disposed to surmise that either the farmer was playing him false, or else his honest credulity had been imposed upon by evil-minded persons.  At any rate, he regarded the message as a decoy, and for half an hour refused to credit its sincerity.  But at length he was induced to think a little better of it.  The gentleman giving the invitation was one Squire Woodcock, of Brentford, whose loyalty to the king had been under suspicion; so at least the farmer averred.  This latter information was not without its effect.

At nightfall on the following day, being disguised in strange clothes by the farmer, Israel stole from his retreat, and after a few hours’ walk, arrived before the ancient brick house of the Squire; who opening the door in person, and learning who it was that stood there, at once assured Israel in the most solemn manner, that no foul play was intended.  So the wanderer suffered himself to enter, and be conducted to a private chamber in the rear of the mansion, where were seated two other gentlemen, attired, in the manner of that age, in long laced coats, with small-clothes, and shoes with silver buckles.

“I am John Woodcock,” said the host, “and these gentlemen are Horne Tooke and James Bridges.  All three of us are friends to America.  We have heard of you for some weeks past, and inferring from your conduct, that you must be a Yankee of the true blue stamp, we have resolved to employ you in a way which you cannot but gladly approve; for surely, though an exile, you are still willing to serve your country; if not as a sailor or soldier, yet as a traveller?”

“Tell me how I may do it?” demanded Israel, not completely at ease.

“At that in good time,” smiled the Squire.  “The point is now—­do you repose confidence in my statements?”

Israel glanced inquiringly upon the Squire; then upon his companions; and meeting the expressive, enthusiastic, candid countenance of Horne Tooke—­then in the first honest ardor of his political career—­turned to the Squire, and said, “Sir, I believe what you have said.  Tell me now what I am to do.”

“Oh, there is just nothing to be done to-night,” said the Squire; “nor for some days to come perhaps, but we wanted to have you prepared.”

And hereupon he hinted to his guest rather vaguely of his general intention; and that over, begged him to entertain them with some account of his adventures since he first took up arms for his country.  To this Israel had no objections in the world, since all men love to tell the tale of hardships endured in a righteous cause.  But ere beginning his story, the Squire refreshed him with some cold beef, laid in a snowy napkin, and a glass of Perry, and thrice during the narration of the adventures, pressed him with additional draughts.