When the strawberry season was over, other parts of the grounds were
assigned him. And so six months elapsed, when, at the recommendation of
Sir John, Israel procured a good berth in the garden of the Princess
Amelia.

So completely now had recent events metamorphosed him in all outward
things, that few suspected him of being any other than an Englishman.
Not even the knight's domestics. But in the princess's garden, being
obliged to work in company with many other laborers, the war was often
a topic of discussion among them. And "the d--d Yankee rebels" were not
seldom the object of scurrilous remark. Illy could the exile brook in
silence such insults upon the country for which he had bled, and for
whose honored sake he was that very instant a sufferer. More than once,
his indignation came very nigh getting the better of his prudence. He
longed for the war to end, that he might but speak a little bit of his
mind.

Now the superintendent of the garden was a harsh, overbearing man. The
workmen with tame servility endured his worst affronts. But Israel, bred
among mountains, found it impossible to restrain himself when made the
undeserved object of pitiless epithets. Ere two months went by, he
quitted the service of the princess, and engaged himself to a farmer in
a small village not far from Brentford. But hardly had he been here
three weeks, when a rumor again got afloat that he was a Yankee prisoner
of war. Whence this report arose he could never discover. No sooner did
it reach the ears of the soldiers, than they were on the alert. Luckily,
Israel was apprised of their intentions in time. But he was hard pushed.
He was hunted after with a perseverance worthy a less ignoble cause. He
had many hairbreadth escapes. Most assuredly he would have been
captured, had it not been for the secret good offices of a few