ael, who now
perceived that they were men, and not women. He had mistaken them, owing
to their frocks, and their wearing no pantaloons, only breeches hidden
by their frocks.

"Beg pardon, ladies, but I thought ye were something else," said Israel
again.

Once more the two figures stared at the stranger, and with added
boorishness of surprise.

"Does this road go to London, gentlemen?"

"Gentlemen--egad!" cried one of the two.

"Egad!" echoed the second.

Putting their hoes before them, the two frocked boors now took a good
long look at Israel, meantime scratching their heads under their plaited
straw hats.

"Does it, gentlemen? Does it go to London? Be kind enough to tell a poor
fellow, do."

"Yees goin' to Lunnun, are yees? Weel--all right--go along."

And without another word, having now satisfied their rustic curiosity,
the two human steers, with wonderful phlegm, applied themselves to their
hoes; supposing, no doubt, that they had given all requisite
information.

Shortly after, Israel passed an old, dark, mossy-looking chapel, its
roof all plastered with the damp yellow dead leaves of the previous
autumn, showered there from a close cluster of venerable trees, with
great trunks, and overstretching branches. Next moment he found himself
entering a village. The silence of early morning rested upon it. But few
figures were seen. Glancing through the window of a now noiseless
public-house, Israel saw a table all in disorder, covered with empty
flagons, and tobacco-ashes, and long pipes; some of the latter broken.

After pausing here a moment, he moved on, and observed a man over the
way standing still and watching him. Instantly Israel was reminded that
he had on the dress of an English sailor, and that it was this probably
which had arrested the stranger's attention. Well knowing that his
peculiar dress exposed him to peril, he hurried on faster to escape the
village; resolving at the first opportunity to change his garments. Ere
long, in a secluded place about a mile from the village, he saw an old
ditcher tottering beneath the weight of a pick-axe, hoe and shovel,
going to his work; the very picture of poverty, toil and distress. His
clothes were tatters.

Making up to this old man, Israel, after a word or two of salutation,
offered to change clothes with him. As his own clothes were prince-like
compared to the ditchers, Israel thought that however much his
proposition might excite the suspicion of