{"id":"01KG8AKXY9ZFQXZQXH699TEFWB","cid":"bafkreih2fojx2bd3wksucdelxpracxul4uzna3zsab62bigcynopmge4gm","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4878,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","start_line":4800,"text":"CHAPTER XXVII.\r\nHE GETS A PEEP AT IRELAND, AND AT LAST ARRIVES AT LIVERPOOL\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Highlander was not a grayhound, not a very fast sailer; and so, the\r\npassage, which some of the packet ships make in fifteen or sixteen\r\ndays, employed us about thirty.\r\n\r\nAt last, one morning I came on deck, and they told me that Ireland was\r\nin sight.\r\n\r\nIreland in sight! A foreign country actually visible! I peered hard,\r\nbut could see nothing but a bluish, cloud-like spot to the northeast.\r\nWas that Ireland? Why, there was nothing remarkable about that; nothing\r\nstartling. If _that’s_ the way a foreign country looks, I might as well\r\nhave staid at home.\r\n\r\nNow what, exactly, I had fancied the shore would look like, I can not\r\nsay; but I had a vague idea that it would be something strange and\r\nwonderful. However, there it was; and as the light increased and the\r\nship sailed nearer and nearer, the land began to magnify, and I gazed\r\nat it with increasing interest.\r\n\r\nIreland! I thought of Robert Emmet, and that last speech of his before\r\nLord Norbury; I thought of Tommy Moore, and his amatory verses: I\r\nthought of Curran, Grattan, Plunket, and O’Connell; I thought of my\r\nuncle’s ostler, Patrick Flinnigan; and I thought of the shipwreck of\r\nthe gallant Albion, tost to pieces on the very shore now in sight; and\r\nI thought I should very much like to leave the ship and visit Dublin\r\nand the Giant’s Causeway.\r\n\r\nPresently a fishing-boat drew near, and I rushed to get a view of it;\r\nbut it was a very ordinary looking boat, bobbing up and down, as any\r\nother boat would have done; yet, when I considered that the solitary\r\nman in it was actually a born native of the land in sight; that in all\r\nprobability he had never been in America, and knew nothing about my\r\nfriends at home, I began to think that he looked somewhat strange.\r\n\r\nHe was a very fluent fellow, and as soon as we were within hailing\r\ndistance, cried out—“Ah, my fine sailors, from Ameriky, ain’t ye, my\r\nbeautiful sailors?” And concluded by calling upon us to stop and heave\r\na rope. Thinking he might have something important to communicate, the\r\nmate accordingly backed the main yard, and a rope being thrown, the\r\nstranger kept hauling in upon it, and coiling it down, crying, “pay\r\nout! pay out, my honeys; ah! but you’re noble fellows!” Till at last\r\nthe mate asked him why he did not come alongside, adding, “Haven’t you\r\nenough rope yet?”\r\n\r\n“Sure and I have,” replied the fisherman, “and it’s time for Pat to cut\r\nand run!” and so saying, his knife severed the rope, and with a\r\nKilkenny grin, he sprang to his tiller, put his little craft before the\r\nwind, and bowled away from us, with some fifteen fathoms of our\r\ntow-line.\r\n\r\n“And may the Old Boy hurry after you, and hang you in your stolen hemp,\r\nyou Irish blackguard!” cried the mate, shaking his fist at the receding\r\nboat, after recovering from his first fit of amazement.\r\n\r\nHere, then, was a beautiful introduction to the eastern hemisphere;\r\nfairly robbed before striking soundings. This trick upon experienced\r\ntravelers certainly beat all I had ever heard about the wooden nutmegs\r\nand bass-wood pumpkin seeds of Connecticut. And I thought if there were\r\nany more Hibernians like our friend Pat, the Yankee peddlers might as\r\nwell give it up.\r\n\r\nThe next land we saw was Wales. It was high noon, and a long line of\r\npurple mountains lay like banks of clouds against the east.\r\n\r\nCould this be really Wales?—Wales?—and I thought of the Prince of\r\nWales.\r\n\r\nAnd did a real queen with a diadem reign over that very land I was\r\nlooking at, with the identical eyes in my own head?—And then I thought\r\nof a grandfather of mine, who had fought against the ancestor of this\r\nqueen at Bunker’s Hill.\r\n\r\nBut, after all, the general effect of these mountains was mortifyingly\r\nlike the general effect of the Kaatskill Mountains on the Hudson River.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJQSBEW41AMVEGVANV2QC","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKXY8K3TJ8JDDDZV6E9CD","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:20.425Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:28.621Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}