{"id":"01KG8AKG995473EF9K5FJ3EKR0","cid":"bafkreibpkxhcdum6vuo24q5hb3ijci3qhdvzlr6ksrofrj27xbymbw5fym","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":796,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 6","source_file":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","start_line":718,"text":"Israel reins up to rid himself of the handcuffs, which impede him.\r\nAfter much painful labor he succeeds in the attempt. Pressing on again\r\nwith all speed, day broke, revealing a trim-looking, hedged, and\r\nbeautiful country, soft, neat, and serene, all colored with the fresh\r\nearly tints of the spring of 1776.\r\n\r\nBless me, thought Israel, all of a tremble, I shall certainly be caught\r\nnow; I have broken into some nobleman’s park.\r\n\r\nBut, hurrying forward again, he came to a turnpike road, and then knew\r\nthat, all comely and shaven as it was, this was simply the open country\r\nof England; one bright, broad park, paled in with white foam of the\r\nsea. A copse skirting the road was just bursting out into bud. Each\r\nunrolling leaf was in very act of escaping from its prison. Israel\r\nlooked at the budding leaves, and round on the budding sod, and up at\r\nthe budding dawn of the day. He was so sad, and these sights were so\r\ngay, that Israel sobbed like a child, while thoughts of his mountain\r\nhome rushed like a wind on his heart. But conquering this fit, he\r\nmarched on, and presently passed nigh a field, where two figures were\r\nworking. They had rosy cheeks, short, sturdy legs, showing the blue\r\nstocking nearly to the knee, and were clad in long, coarse, white\r\nfrocks, and had on coarse, broad-brimmed straw hats. Their faces were\r\npartly averted.\r\n\r\n“Please, ladies,” half roguishly says Israel, taking off his hat, “does\r\nthis road go to London?”\r\n\r\nAt this salutation, the two figures turned in a sort of stupid\r\namazement, causing an almost corresponding expression in Israel, who\r\nnow perceived that they were men, and not women. He had mistaken them,\r\nowing to their frocks, and their wearing no pantaloons, only breeches\r\nhidden by their frocks.\r\n\r\n“Beg pardon, ladies, but I thought ye were something else,” said Israel\r\nagain.\r\n\r\nOnce more the two figures stared at the stranger, and with added\r\nboorishness of surprise.\r\n\r\n“Does this road go to London, gentlemen?”\r\n\r\n“Gentlemen—egad!” cried one of the two.\r\n\r\n“Egad!” echoed the second.\r\n\r\nPutting their hoes before them, the two frocked boors now took a good\r\nlong look at Israel, meantime scratching their heads under their\r\nplaited straw hats.\r\n\r\n“Does it, gentlemen? Does it go to London? Be kind enough to tell a\r\npoor fellow, do.”\r\n\r\n“Yees goin’ to Lunnun, are yees? Weel—all right—go along.”\r\n\r\nAnd without another word, having now satisfied their rustic curiosity,\r\nthe two human steers, with wonderful phlegm, applied themselves to\r\ntheir hoes; supposing, no doubt, that they had given all requisite\r\ninformation.\r\n\r\nShortly after, Israel passed an old, dark, mossy-looking chapel, its\r\nroof all plastered with the damp yellow dead leaves of the previous\r\nautumn, showered there from a close cluster of venerable trees, with\r\ngreat trunks, and overstretching branches. Next moment he found himself\r\nentering a village. The silence of early morning rested upon it. But\r\nfew figures were seen. Glancing through the window of a now noiseless\r\npublic-house, Israel saw a table all in disorder, covered with empty\r\nflagons, and tobacco-ashes, and long pipes; some of the latter broken.\r\n\r\nAfter pausing here a moment, he moved on, and observed a man over the\r\nway standing still and watching him. Instantly Israel was reminded that\r\nhe had on the dress of an English sailor, and that it was this probably\r\nwhich had arrested the stranger’s attention. Well knowing that his\r\npeculiar dress exposed him to peril, he hurried on faster to escape the\r\nvillage; resolving at the first opportunity to change his garments. Ere\r\nlong, in a secluded place about a mile from the village, he saw an old\r\nditcher tottering beneath the weight of a pick-axe, hoe and shovel,\r\ngoing to his work; the very picture of poverty, toil and distress. His\r\nclothes were tatters.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 6"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJHFMCDZKHPXTDK6NQM6D","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKG9BG6DDV036NJ7ED1WP","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKG999T6A85YJ3JCRFZ2A","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:06.441Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:13.014Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}