And no two patches were alike, and no one patch was the color of the original cloth.

The stringless breeches gaped wide open at the knee; the long woollen stockings looked as if they had been set up at some time for a target.
Israel looked suddenly metamorphosed from youth to old age; just like an old man of eighty he looked.

But, indeed, dull, dreary adversity was now in store for him; and adversity, come it at eighteen or eighty, is the true old age of man.

The dress befitted the fate.
From the friendly old ditcher, Israel learned the exact course he must steer for London; distant now between seventy and eighty miles.

He was also apprised by his venerable friend, that the country was filled with soldiers on the constant look-out for deserters whether from the navy or army, for the capture of whom a stipulated reward was given, just as in Massachusetts at that time for prowling bears.
Having solemnly enjoined his old friend not to give any information, should any one he meet inquire for such a person as Israel, our adventurer walked briskly on, less heavy of heart, now that he felt comparatively safe in disguise.
Thirty miles were travelled that day.