Having ere this emptied and thrown away the purse which had played him so scurvy a trick with the first farmer, he now produced three crown-pieces.
"Three crown-pieces in your pocket, and no crown to your hat!" said the farmer.
"But I assure you, my friend," rejoined Israel, "that a finer hat was never worn, until that confounded bull-dog ruined it." "True," said the farmer, "I forgot that part of your story.

Well, I have a tolerable coat and breeches which I will sell you for your money." In ten minutes more Israel was equipped in a gray coat of coarse cloth, not much improved by wear, and breeches to match.

For half-a-crown more he procured a highly respectable looking hat.
"Now, my kind friend," said Israel, "can you tell me where Horne Tooke and John Bridges live ?" Our adventurer thought it his best plan to seek out one or other of those gentlemen, both to report proceedings and learn confirmatory tidings concerning Squire Woodcock, touching whose fate he did not like to inquire of others.
"Horne Tooke?
What do you want with Horne Tooke," said the farmer.

"He was Squire Woodcock's friend, wasn't he?
The poor Squire! Who would have thought he'd have gone off so suddenly.

But apoplexy comes like a bullet." "I was right," thought Israel to himself.