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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #64636 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64636)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rip Van Winkle, by Washington Irving
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Rip Van Winkle
-
-Author: Washington Irving
-
-Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill
-
-Release Date: February 26, 2021 [eBook #64636]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
-             https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
-             generously made available by the Library of Congress)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIP VAN WINKLE ***
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    _This Edition is
-    limited to
-    Two Hundred and
-    Fifty Copies
-    for the
-    United Kingdom._
-    No. 141
-
-
-
-
-RIP VAN WINKLE.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: ~Washington Irving.~]
-
-
-
-
-    RIP
-    VAN WINKLE
-
-    By
-    Washington Irving.
-
-    [Illustration]
-
-    Illustrated by FRANK T. MERRILL.
-
-    Boston. U. S. A.
-    S. E. Cassino.
-    MDCCCLXXXVIII.
-
-
-
-
-    _Copyright by_
-    SAMUEL E. CASSINO,
-    1887.
-
-    TYPOGRAPHY BY J. S. CUSHING & CO., BOSTON. U. S. A.
-
-    PRESSWORK BY BERWICK & SMITH, BOSTON. U. S. A.
-
-
-
-
-LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
-
-
-                                                                    PAGE
-
-    PORTRAIT                                                           4
-
-    Illustrated Title-Page                                             5
-
-    List of Illustrations                                              7
-
-    Diedrich Knickerbocker                                             9
-
-    Up the Hudson                                                     11
-
-    “He was a descendant of the Van Winkles”                          12
-
-    “He assisted at their sports”                              facing 12
-
-    “A termagant wife”                                                13
-
-    “Fish all day without a murmur”                                   14
-
-    “Used to employ him to run their errands”                         15
-
-    “He would carry a fowling-piece”                                  17
-
-    “His cow among the cabbages”                                      18
-
-    “Trooping like a colt at its mother’s heels”                      18
-
-    “How solemnly they would listen”                           facing 18
-
-    “He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and cast up his eyes” 19
-
-    “Yelping precipitation”                                           20
-
-    “He would share the contents of his wallet”                facing 20
-
-    Nicholas Vedder                                                   21
-
-    “The brow of a precipice”                                         23
-
-    “He heard a voice”                                                26
-
-    “A strange figure”                                                27
-
-    “Rip and his companion labored on in silence”                     29
-
-    “A company of odd-looking personages”                      facing 29
-
-    “One who seemed to be the commander”                              30
-
-    “They quaffed the liquor in profound silence”              facing 30
-
-    “I have not slept here all night”                                 31
-
-    “Wanting in his usual activity”                                   32
-
-    “He called again and whistled after his dog”               facing 32
-
-    “Stroked their chins”                                             33
-
-    “A troop of strange children ran at his heels”             facing 34
-
-    “He found the house gone to decay”                                35
-
-    “He recognized on the sign”                                       37
-
-    “They crowded round him”                                   facing 38
-
-    “A lean, bilious-looking fellow”                                  39
-
-    “He was killed at the storming of Stony Point”                    41
-
-    “A great militia-general”                                         42
-
-    “That is Rip Van Winkle, yonder”                                  43
-
-    “A fresh, comely woman”                                           44
-
-    “What is your name, my good woman?”                        facing 44
-
-    Peter Vanderdonk                                                  45
-
-    “Friends among the rising generation”                             46
-
-    “Once more on the bench at the inn door”                   facing 46
-
-    “He used to tell his story to every stranger”                     48
-
-
-
-
-RIP VAN WINKLE.
-
-A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER.
-
-
-    By Woden, God of Saxons,
-    From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday.
-    Truth is a thing that ever I will keep
-    Unto thylke day in which I creep into
-    My sepulchre----                      CARTWRIGHT.
-
-[Illustration: Diedrich Knickerbocker]
-
-[The following Tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich
-Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious in the
-Dutch history of the province, and the manners of the descendants from
-its primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, did not lie
-so much among books as among men; for the former are lamentably scanty
-on his favorite topics; whereas he found the old burghers, and still
-more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to true
-history. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch family,
-snugly shut up in its low-roofed farmhouse, under a spreading sycamore,
-he looked upon it as a little clasped volume of black-letter, and
-studied it with the zeal of a book-worm.
-
-The result of all these researches was a history of the province during
-the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some years since.
-There have been various opinions as to the literary character of his
-work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it should be.
-Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed was a little
-questioned on its first appearance, but has since been completely
-established; and it is now admitted into all historical collections as a
-book of unquestionable authority.
-
-The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work; and
-now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to
-say that his time might have been much better employed in weightier
-labors. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own way; and though
-it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of his
-neighbors, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the
-truest deference and affection, yet his errors and follies are
-remembered “more in sorrow than in anger,” and it begins to be suspected
-that he never intended to injure or offend. But however his memory may
-be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many folk whose good
-opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain biscuit-bakers,
-who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their New-Year cakes;
-and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost equal to the
-being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or a Queen Anne’s Farthing.]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: Up the Hudson]
-
-Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill
-mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian
-family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a
-noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change
-of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day,
-produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains,
-and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect
-barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in
-blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky;
-but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will
-gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last
-rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory.
-
-At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the
-light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle roofs gleam among
-the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the
-fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of great
-antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists in the
-early times of the province, just about the beginning of the government
-of the good Peter Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace!) and there were some
-of the houses of the original settlers standing within a few years,
-built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed
-windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks.
-
-[Illustration: “He was a descendant of the Van Winkles”]
-
-In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell
-the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived
-many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain,
-a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a
-descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous
-days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort
-Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial character of
-his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple, good-natured man;
-he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient, hen-pecked husband.
-Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that meekness of
-spirit which gained him such universal popularity; for those men are
-most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad who are under the
-discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered
-pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation, and a
-curtain-lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the
-virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore,
-in some respects, be considered a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van
-Winkle was thrice blessed.
-
-[Illustration: “He assisted at their sports”]
-
-[Illustration: “A termagant wife”]
-
-Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good wives of
-the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all
-family squabbles, and never failed, whenever they talked those matters
-over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van
-Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever
-he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings,
-taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories
-of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the
-village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts,
-clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with
-impunity; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood.
-
-[Illustration: “Fish all day without a murmur”]
-
-The great error in Rip’s composition was an insuperable aversion to
-all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of
-assiduity or perseverance; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as
-long and heavy as a Tartar’s lance, and fish all day without a murmur,
-even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would
-carry a fowling-piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging
-through woods and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few
-squirrels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor
-even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country frolics
-for husking Indian corn, or building stone fences; the women of the
-village, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and to do such
-little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for them.
-In a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody’s business but his own;
-but as to doing family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it
-impossible.
-
-[Illustration: “Used to employ him to run their errands”]
-
-In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm; it was the
-most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country; everything
-about it went wrong, and would go wrong in spite of him. His fences were
-continually falling to pieces; his cow would either go astray, or get
-among the cabbages; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than
-anywhere else; the rain always made a point of setting in just as he had
-some out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial estate had
-dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was little
-more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the
-worst conditioned farm in the neighborhood.
-
-[Illustration: “He would carry a fowling-piece”]
-
-His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to
-nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to
-inherit the habits, with the old clothes of his father. He was generally
-seen trooping like a colt at his mother’s heels, equipped in a pair of
-his father’s cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold up
-with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather.
-
-[Illustration: “Trooping like a colt at its mother’s heels”]
-
-Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish,
-well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or
-brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would
-rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he
-would have whistled life away, in perfect contentment; but his wife kept
-continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness,
-and the ruin he was bringing on his family.
-
-[Illustration: “Trooping like a colt at its mother’s heels”]
-
-Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was incessantly going, and
-everything he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household
-eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures of the kind,
-and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his
-shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This,
-however, always provoked a fresh volley from his wife, so that he was
-fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the house--the
-only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen-pecked husband.
-
-[Illustration: “How solemnly they would listen”]
-
-Rip’s sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked
-as his master; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in
-idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of
-his master’s going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit
-befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever
-scoured the woods--but what courage can withstand the ever-during and
-all-besetting terrors of a woman’s tongue? The moment Wolf entered the
-house, his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between
-his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong
-glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or
-ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation.
-
-[Illustration: “He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and cast up
-his eyes”]
-
-Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony
-rolled on: a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is
-the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long while
-he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind
-of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages
-of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn,
-designated by a rubicund portrait of his majesty George the Third. Here
-they used to sit in the shade of a long lazy summer’s day, talking
-listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about
-nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman’s money to have
-heard the profound discussions which sometimes took place, when by
-chance an old newspaper fell into their hands, from some passing
-traveller. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled
-out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little
-man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the
-dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some
-months after they had taken place.
-
-[Illustration: “Yelping precipitation”]
-
-The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by Nicholas
-Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door
-of which he took his seat from morning till night, just moving
-sufficiently to avoid the sun, and keep in the shade of a large tree; so
-that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements, as accurately
-as by a sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked
-his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however (for every great man has
-his adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his
-opinions. When anything that was read or related displeased him, he was
-observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short,
-frequent, and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke
-slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds, and
-sometimes taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapor
-curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect
-approbation.
-
-[Illustration: “He would share the contents of his wallet”]
-
-[Illustration: Nicholas Vedder]
-
-From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his
-termagant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of the
-assemblage, and call the members all to nought; nor was that august
-personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of
-this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encouraging her
-husband in habits of idleness.
-
-Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair, and his only
-alternative to escape from the labor of the farm and the clamor of his
-wife, was to take gun in hand, and stroll away into the woods. Here he
-would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the
-contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a
-fellow-sufferer in persecution. “Poor Wolf,” he would say, “thy mistress
-leads thee a dog’s life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live
-thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee!” Wolf would wag his
-tail, look wistfully in his master’s face, and if dogs can feel pity, I
-verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.
-
-In a long ramble of the kind, on a fine autumnal day, Rip had
-unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill
-mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the
-still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun.
-Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a
-green knoll covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a
-precipice. From an opening between the trees, he could overlook all the
-lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the
-lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic
-course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging
-bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing
-itself in the blue highlands.
-
-On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild,
-lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from the impending
-cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun.
-For some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually
-advancing; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the
-valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the
-village; and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the
-terrors of Dame Van Winkle.
-
-As he was about to descend he heard a voice from a distance
-hallooing, “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!” He looked around, but could
-see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain.
-He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to
-descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the still evening air,
-“Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!”--at the same time Wolf bristled up his
-back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his master’s side, looking
-fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing
-over him; he looked anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a
-strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight
-of something he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any human
-being in this lonely and unfrequented place, but supposing it to be some
-one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to
-yield it.
-
-[Illustration: “The brow of a precipice”]
-
-On nearer approach, he was still more surprised at the singularity of
-the stranger’s appearance. He was a short, square-built old fellow, with
-thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique
-Dutch fashion--a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist--several pair of
-breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons
-down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulders a
-stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to
-approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful
-of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity, and
-mutually relieving each other, they clambered up a narrow gully,
-apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip
-every now and then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that
-seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft between lofty
-rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an
-instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient
-thunder-showers which often take place in the mountain heights, he
-proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a
-small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the
-brinks of which, impending trees shot their branches, so that you only
-caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During
-the whole time, Rip and his companion had labored on in silence; for
-though the former marvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying
-a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange
-and incomprehensible about the unknown, that inspired awe, and checked
-familiarity.
-
-[Illustration: “He heard a voice”]
-
-On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented
-themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking
-personages playing at nine-pins. They were dressed in a quaint
-outlandish fashion: some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long
-knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches, of
-similar style with that of the guide’s. Their visages too, were
-peculiar: one had a large head, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the
-face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted
-by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock’s tail. They
-all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed
-to be the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten
-countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger,
-high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with
-roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old
-Flemish painting, in the parlor of Domine Van Schaick, the village
-parson, and which had been brought over from Holland at the time of the
-settlement.
-
-[Illustration: “A strange figure”]
-
-[Illustration: “Rip and his companion labored on in silence”]
-
-[Illustration: “A company of odd-looking personages”]
-
-What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were
-evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the
-most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of
-pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the
-scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled,
-echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.
-
-As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from
-their play, and stared at him with such a fixed statue-like gaze, and
-such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned
-within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the
-contents of the keg into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait
-upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the
-liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game.
-
-By degrees, Rip’s awe and apprehension subsided. He even ventured, when
-no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had
-much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty
-soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste provoked
-another, and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often, that at
-length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head
-gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep.
-
-[Illustration: “One who seemed to be the commander”]
-
-On waking, he found himself on the green knoll from whence he had
-first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes--it was a bright
-sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes,
-and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain
-breeze. “Surely,” thought Rip, “I have not slept here all night.” He
-recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with the
-keg of liquor--the mountain ravine--the wild retreat among the
-rocks--the woe-begone party at nine-pins--the flagon--“Oh! that wicked
-flagon!” thought Rip--“what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?”
-
-[Illustration: “They quaffed the liquor in profound silence”]
-
-[Illustration: “I have not slept here all night”]
-
-He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean well-oiled
-fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel
-encrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He
-now suspected that the grave roysters of the mountain had put a trick
-upon him, and having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun.
-Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a
-squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him and shouted his name, but
-all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was
-to be seen.
-
-He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening’s gambol, and if
-he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to
-walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual
-activity. “These mountain beds do not agree with me,” thought Rip, “and
-if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall
-have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle.” With some difficulty he got
-down into the glen; he found the gully up which he and his companion had
-ascended the preceding evening; but to his astonishment a mountain
-stream was now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling
-the glen with babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up
-its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch,
-sassafras, and witch-hazel; and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the
-wild grape vines that twisted their coils and tendrils from tree to
-tree, and spread a kind of network in his path.
-
-[Illustration: “Wanting in his usual activity”]
-
-At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the
-cliffs to the amphitheatre; but no traces of such opening remained. The
-rocks presented a high impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came
-tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin,
-black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip
-was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog; he
-was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high
-in the air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; and who,
-secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor
-man’s perplexities. What was to be done? The morning was passing away,
-and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up
-his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to
-starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty
-firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his
-steps homeward.
-
-[Illustration: “He called again and whistled after his dog”]
-
-[Illustration: “Stroked their chins”]
-
-As he approached the village, he met a number of people, but none whom
-he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had thought himself
-acquainted with every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of
-a different fashion from that to which he was accustomed. They all
-stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever they cast eyes
-upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of
-this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his
-astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long!
-
-He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange
-children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray
-beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old
-acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered:
-it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had
-never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had
-disappeared. Strange names were over the doors--strange faces at the
-windows--everything was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to
-doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched.
-Surely this was his native village, which he had left but a day before.
-There stood the Kaatskill mountains--there ran the silver Hudson at a
-distance--there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always
-been--Rip was sorely perplexed--“That flagon last night,” thought he,
-“has addled my poor head sadly!”
-
-It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house,
-which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the
-shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay--the
-roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A
-half-starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip
-called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed
-on. This was an unkind cut indeed.--“My very dog,” sighed poor Rip, “has
-forgotten me!”
-
-He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had
-always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently
-abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears--he called
-loudly for his wife and children--the lonely chambers rang for a moment
-with his voice, and then all again was silence.
-
-[Illustration: “A troop of strange children ran at his heels”]
-
-[Illustration: “He found the house gone to decay”]
-
-[Illustration: “He recognized on the sign”]
-
-He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village
-inn--but it too was gone. A large rickety wooden building stood in its
-place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken, and mended with
-old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, “The Union
-Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.” Instead of the great tree that used to
-shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall
-naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red night-cap,
-and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of
-stars and stripes--all this was strange and incomprehensible. He
-recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under
-which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe, but even this was
-singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and
-buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was
-decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large
-characters, GENERAL WASHINGTON.
-
-[Illustration: “They crowded round him”]
-
-There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip
-recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was
-a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed
-phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas
-Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering
-clouds of tobacco smoke, instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the
-schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper.
-In place of these, a lean bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets
-full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of
-citizens--election--members of Congress--liberty--Bunker’s hill--heroes
-of seventy-six--and other words, that were a perfect Babylonish jargon
-to the bewildered Van Winkle.
-
-[Illustration: “A lean, bilious-looking fellow”]
-
-The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, his rusty
-fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and the army of women and children
-that had gathered at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the
-tavern politicians. They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to
-foot, with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and drawing
-him partly aside, inquired, “on which side he voted?” Rip stared in
-vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the
-arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, “whether he was Federal
-or Democrat.” Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when
-a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his
-way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his
-elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one
-arm a-kimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat
-penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere
-tone, “what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and
-a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the
-village?”
-
-[Illustration: “He was killed at the storming of Stony Point”]
-
-“Alas! gentlemen,” cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, “I am a poor, quiet
-man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the King, God bless
-him!”
-
-Here a general shout burst from the bystanders--“a tory! a tory! a spy!
-a refugee! hustle him! away with him!”
-
-It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked
-hat restored order; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow,
-demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom
-he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm,
-but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to
-keep about the tavern.
-
-“Well--who are they?--name them.”
-
-Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, “Where’s Nicholas Vedder?”
-
-[Illustration: “A great militia-general”]
-
-There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a
-thin, piping voice, “Nicholas Vedder? why, he is dead and gone these
-eighteen years! There was a wooden tomb-stone in the church-yard that
-used to tell all about him, but that’s rotten and gone too.”
-
-“Where’s Brom Dutcher?”
-
-“Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; some say he
-was killed at the storming of Stony-Point--others say he was drowned in
-the squall, at the foot of Antony’s Nose. I don’t know--he never came
-back again.”
-
-“Where’s Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?”
-
-“He went off to the wars, too; was a great militia general, and is now
-in Congress.”
-
-Rip’s heart died away, at hearing of these sad changes in his home and
-friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer
-puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of
-matters which he could not understand: war--Congress--Stony-Point!--he
-had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair,
-“Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?”
-
-“Oh, Rip Van Winkle!” exclaimed two or three. “Oh, to be sure! that’s
-Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree.”
-
-Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he went up
-the mountain; apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor
-fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and
-whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment,
-the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name?
-
-[Illustration: “That is Rip Van Winkle, yonder”]
-
-“God knows,” exclaimed he at his wit’s end; “I’m not myself--I’m
-somebody else--that’s me yonder--no--that’s somebody else, got into my
-shoes--I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and
-they’ve changed my gun, and everything’s changed, and I’m changed, and I
-can’t tell what’s my name, or who I am!”
-
-The by-standers began now to look at each other, nod, wink
-significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was
-a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from
-doing mischief; at the very suggestion of which, the self-important man
-with the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical
-moment a fresh comely woman passed through the throng to get a peep at
-the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which,
-frightened at his looks, began to cry. “Hush, Rip,” cried she, “hush,
-you little fool; the old man won’t hurt you.” The name of the child, the
-air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of
-recollections in his mind.
-
-[Illustration: “A fresh, comely woman”]
-
-“What is your name, my good woman?” asked he.
-
-“Judith Gardenier.”
-
-“And your father’s name?”
-
-“Ah, poor man, his name was Rip Van Winkle; it’s twenty years since he
-went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since--his
-dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried
-away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl.”
-
-Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a faltering
-voice:
-
-“Where’s your mother?”
-
-[Illustration: “What is your name, my good woman?”]
-
-Oh, she too had died but a short time since: she broke a blood-vessel in
-a fit of passion at a New-England pedler.
-
-There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest
-man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her
-child in his arms. “I am your father!” cried he--“Young Rip Van Winkle
-once--old Rip Van Winkle now--Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle!”
-
-All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the
-crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a
-moment, exclaimed, “Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle--it is himself.
-Welcome home again, old neighbor--Why, where have you been these twenty
-long years?”
-
-[Illustration: Peter Vanderdonk]
-
-Rip’s story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him
-but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard it; some were
-seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues in their cheeks; and
-the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over,
-had returned to the field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and
-shook his head--upon which there was a general shaking of the head
-throughout the assemblage.
-
-[Illustration: “Friends among the rising generation”]
-
-It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter
-Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He was a
-descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote one of the earliest
-accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the
-village, and well versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of
-the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story
-in the most satisfactory manner. He assured the company that it was a
-fact, handed down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill
-mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was
-affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of the
-river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with
-his crew of the Halfmoon, being permitted in this way to revisit the
-scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river and the
-great city called by his name. That his father had once seen them in
-their old Dutch dresses playing at nine-pins in the hollow of the
-mountain; and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound
-of their balls, like distant peals of thunder.
-
-[Illustration: “Once more on the bench at the inn door”]
-
-To make a long story short, the company broke up, and returned to the
-more important concerns of the election. Rip’s daughter took him home to
-live with her; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout cheery
-farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that
-used to climb upon his back. As to Rip’s son and heir, who was the ditto
-of himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on
-the farm; but evinced a hereditary disposition to attend to anything
-else but his business.
-
-Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found many of his
-former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of
-time; and preferred making friends among the rising generation, with
-whom he soon grew into great favor.
-
-Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when
-a man can do nothing with impunity, he took his place once more on the
-bench, at the inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of
-the village, and a chronicle of the old times “before the war.” It was
-some time before he could get into the regular track of gossip, or could
-be made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place during his
-torpor. How that there had been a revolutionary war--that the country
-had thrown off the yoke of old England--and that, instead of being a
-subject of his majesty George the Third, he was now a free citizen of
-the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician; the changes of
-states and empires made but little impression on him; but there was one
-species of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that
-was--petticoat government. Happily, that was at an end; he had got his
-neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he
-pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her
-name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders,
-and cast up his eyes; which might pass either for an expression of
-resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance.
-
-[Illustration: “He used to tell his story to every stranger”]
-
-He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr.
-Doolittle’s hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points
-every time he told it, which was doubtless owing to his having so
-recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have
-related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood, but knew it
-by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted
-that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point on which
-he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost
-universally gave it full credit. Even to this day, they never hear a
-thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say
-Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of nine-pins; and it is a
-common wish of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life
-hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught out
-of Rip Van Winkle’s flagon.
-
-    NOTE.--The foregoing tale, one would suspect, had been suggested
-    to Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the
-    Emperor Frederick _der Rothbart_ and the Kypphauser mountain;
-    the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to the tale,
-    shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual
-    fidelity.
-
-    “The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many, but
-    nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity
-    of our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to
-    marvellous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many
-    stranger stories than this, in the villages along the Hudson;
-    all of which were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I
-    have even talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, who, when last I
-    saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational
-    and consistent on every other point, that I think no
-    conscientious person could refuse to take this into the bargain;
-    nay, I have seen a certificate on the subject taken before a
-    country justice, and signed with a cross, in the justice’s own
-    handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond the possibility of
-    doubt.”
-
-
-
-
-Transcriber’s Note:
-
-The order of illustrations has been retained as published in the
-original publication.
-
-The following changes were made:
-
-    On the title page
-      S. E Cassino _changed to_ S. E. Cassino
-
-    In the List of Illustrations
-      personages” facing 26 _changed to_ facing 29
-
-    Page 38
-      intead of the _changed to_ instead of the
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIP VAN WINKLE ***
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-<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rip Van Winkle, by Washington Irving</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
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-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Rip Van Winkle</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Washington Irving</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 26, 2021 [eBook #64636]</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Library of Congress)</div>
-
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIP VAN WINKLE ***</div>
-
-<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img class="noborder" src="images/cover2.jpg" width="500" height="633" alt="Cover" />
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="divider" />
-
-<div class="figcenter width300">
-<img class="noborder" src="images/i001.png" width="300" height="373" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">
-<i>This Edition is<br />
-limited to<br />
-Two Hundred and<br />
-Fifty Copies<br />
-for the<br />
-United Kingdom.</i><br />
-No. 141</p>
-
-
-
-<div class="section">
-<hr class="divider" />
-<h1>RIP VAN WINKLE.</h1>
-</div>
-
-<div class="section">
-<hr class="divider2" />
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i006" src="images/i006.jpg" width="400" height="553" alt="" />
-<div class="caption"><em>Washington Irving.</em></div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-
-<div class="section">
-<hr class="divider2" />
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="title" src="images/i007.jpg" width="500" height="721" alt="Title page" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">
-<span class="smcap">Rip Van Winkle</span><br />
-By Washington Irving.<br />
-Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Frank T. Merrill</span>.<br />
-Boston. <span class="smcap">U. S. A.</span><br />
-S. <a name="fullstop" id="fullstop"></a><ins title="Original has no fullstop">E.</ins>
-Cassino.<br />
-MDCCCLXXXVIII.</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<div class="section">
-<p class="center">
-<i>Copyright by</i><br />
-<span class="smcap">Samuel E. Cassino</span>,<br />
-1887.
-</p>
-
-<p class="center mt3">
-<span class="smcap">Typography by J. S. Cushing &amp; Co.,
-Boston. U. S. A.</span></p>
-
-<hr class="printer" />
-
-<p class="center">
-<span class="smcap">Presswork by Berwick &amp; Smith, Boston. U. S. A.</span>
-</p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<div class="section">
-<hr class="divider" />
-<h2 id="list-of-illustrations">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>
-</div>
-<table summary="List of Illustrations">
-<tr>
-<th>&nbsp;</th>
-<th class="tdr">PAGE</th>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Portrait</span></td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i006">4</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">Illustrated Title-Page</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#title">5</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">List of Illustrations</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#list-of-illustrations">7</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">Diedrich Knickerbocker</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i011">9</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">Up the Hudson</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i013">11</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He was a descendant of the Van Winkles”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i014">12</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He assisted at their sports”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i015">12</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“A termagant wife”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i017">13</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Fish all day without a murmur”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i018">14</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Used to employ him to run their errands”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i019">15</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He would carry a fowling-piece”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i021">17</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“His cow among the cabbages”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i022b">18</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Trooping like a colt at its mother’s heels”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i022a">18</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“How solemnly they would listen”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i023">18</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He shrugged his shoulders,
- shook his head, and cast up his eyes”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i025">19</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Yelping precipitation”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i026">20</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He would share the contents
-of his wallet”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i027">20</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">Nicholas Vedder</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i029">21</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“The brow of a precipice”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i031">23</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He heard a voice”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i034">26</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“A strange figure”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i035">27</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Rip and his companion labored
-on in silence”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i037">29</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“A company of odd-looking personages”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a name="facing" id="facing"></a>facing&nbsp;<a href="#i039"><ins title="original has 26">29</ins></a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“One who seemed to be the commander”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i040">30</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“They quaffed the liquor in profound silence”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i041">30</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“I have not slept here all night”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i043">31</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Wanting in his usual activity”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i044">32</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He called again and whistled after
-his dog”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i045">32</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Stroked their chins”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i047">33</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“A troop of strange children ran at his heels”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i049">34</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He found the house gone to decay”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i051">35</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He recognized on the sign”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i053">37</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“They crowded round him”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i055">38</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“A lean, bilious-looking fellow”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i057">39</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He was killed at the storming of Stony Point”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i059">41</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“A great militia-general”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i060">42</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“That is Rip Van Winkle, yonder”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i061">43</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“A fresh, comely woman”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i062">44</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“What is your name, my good woman?”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i063">44</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">Peter Vanderdonk</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i065">45</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Friends among the rising generation”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i066">46</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“Once more on the bench at the inn door”</td>
-<td class="tdr">facing&nbsp;<a href="#i067">46</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tdl">“He used to tell his story to every stranger”</td>
-<td class="tdr"><a href="#i070">48</a></td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<hr class="divider" />
-<h2>RIP VAN WINKLE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-<div class="verse">
-<div class="line">By Woden, God of Saxons,</div>
-<div class="line">From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday.</div>
-<div class="line">Truth is a thing that ever I will keep</div>
-<div class="line">Unto thylke day in which I creep into</div>
-<div class="line">My sepulchre&mdash;&mdash; <span class="smcap pl5">Cartwright.</span></div>
-</div></div>
-</div>
-
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i011" src="images/i011.jpg" width="500" height="491" alt="Diedrich Knickerbocker" />
-</div>
-
-<blockquote>
-<p>[The following Tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich
-Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious in the
-Dutch history of the province, and the manners of the descendants from
-its primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, did not lie
-so much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> among books as among men; for the former are lamentably scanty
-on his favorite topics; whereas he found the old burghers, and still
-more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to true
-history. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch family,
-snugly shut up in its low-roofed farmhouse, under a spreading sycamore,
-he looked upon it as a little clasped volume of black-letter, and
-studied it with the zeal of a book-worm.</p>
-
-<p>The result of all these researches was a history of the province during
-the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some years since.
-There have been various opinions as to the literary character of his
-work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it should be.
-Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed was a little
-questioned on its first appearance, but has since been completely
-established; and it is now admitted into all historical collections as a
-book of unquestionable authority.</p>
-
-<p>The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work; and
-now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to
-say that his time might have been much better employed in weightier
-labors. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own way; and though
-it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of his
-neighbors, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the
-truest deference and affection, yet his errors and follies are
-remembered “more in sorrow than in anger,” and it begins to be suspected
-that he never intended to injure or offend. But however his memory may
-be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many folk whose good
-opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain biscuit-bakers,
-who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their New-Year cakes;
-and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost equal to the
-being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or a Queen Anne’s Farthing.]</p>
-</blockquote>
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<hr class="divider" />
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i013" src="images/i013.jpg" width="500" height="309" alt="Up the Hudson" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="noi"><span class="drop-cap">W</span>HOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill
-mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian
-family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a
-noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change
-of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day,
-produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains,
-and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect
-barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in
-blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky;
-but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will
-gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last
-rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span>
-At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the
-light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle roofs gleam among
-the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the
-fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of great
-antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists in the
-early times of the province, just about the beginning of the government
-of the good Peter Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace!) and there were some
-of the houses of the original settlers standing within a few years,
-built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed
-windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width250">
-<img id="i014" src="images/i014.jpg" width="250" height="396" alt="“He was a descendant of the Van Winkles”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell
-the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived
-many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain,
-a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a
-descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous
-days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort
-Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple,
-good-natured man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient,
-hen-pecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owing
-that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal popularity; for
-those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad who are
-under the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are
-rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic
-tribulation, and a curtain-lecture is worth all the sermons in the world
-for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant
-wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered a tolerable
-blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i015" src="images/i015.jpg" width="500" height="747" alt="“He assisted at their sports”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width250">
-<img id="i017" src="images/i017.jpg" width="250" height="443" alt="“A termagant wife”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good wives of
-the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all
-family squabbles, and never failed, whenever they talked those matters
-over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van
-Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever
-he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings,
-taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> them long stories
-of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the
-village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts,
-clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with
-impunity; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i018" src="images/i018.jpg" width="400" height="519" alt="“Fish all day without a murmur”" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span>
-The great error in Rip’s composition was an insuperable aversion to all
-kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or
-perseverance; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and
-heavy as a Tartar’s lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even
-though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would carry a
-fowling-piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods
-and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild
-pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor even in the roughest
-toil, and was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking Indian
-corn, or building stone fences; the women of the village, too, used to
-employ him to run their errands, and to do such little odd jobs as their
-less obliging husbands would not do for them. In a word, Rip was ready
-to attend to anybody’s
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span>
-business but his own; but as to
-doing family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it
-impossible.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>
-<img id="i019" src="images/i019.jpg" width="500" height="618" alt="“Used to employ him to run their errands”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm; it was the
-most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country; everything
-about it went wrong, and would go wrong in spite of him. His fences were
-continually falling to pieces; his cow would either go astray, or get
-among the cabbages; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than
-anywhere else; the rain always made a point of setting in just as he had
-some out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial estate had
-dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was little
-more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the
-worst conditioned farm in the neighborhood.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i021" src="images/i021.jpg" width="400" height="710" alt="“He would carry a fowling-piece”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to
-nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to
-inherit the habits, with the old clothes of his father. He was generally
-seen trooping like a colt at his mother’s heels, equipped in a pair of
-his father’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold up
-with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width250">
-<img id="i022a" src="images/i022a.jpg" width="250" height="362" alt="“Trooping like a colt at its mother’s heels”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish,
-well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or
-brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would
-rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he
-would have whistled life away, in perfect contentment; but his wife kept
-continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness,
-and the ruin he was bringing on his family.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width300">
-<img id="i022b" src="images/i022b.jpg" width="300" height="312" alt="“His cow among the cabbages”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was incessantly going, and
-everything he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household
-eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures of the kind,
-and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his
-shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This,
-however, always provoked a fresh volley from his wife, so that
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of
-the house&mdash;the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen-pecked
-husband.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i023" src="images/i023.jpg" width="500" height="659" alt="“How solemnly they would listen”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Rip’s sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked
-as his master; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in
-idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of
-his master’s going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit
-befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever
-scoured the woods&mdash;but what courage can withstand the ever-during and
-all-besetting terrors of a woman’s tongue? The moment Wolf entered the
-house, his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between
-his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong
-glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or
-ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width250">
-<img id="i025" src="images/i025.jpg" width="250" height="674" alt="“He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and cast up his eyes”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony
-rolled on: a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is
-the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long while
-he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind
-of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages
-of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn,
-designated by a rubicund portrait of his majesty George the Third. Here
-they used to sit in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> shade of a long lazy summer’s day, talking
-listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about
-nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman’s money to have
-heard the profound discussions which sometimes took place, when by
-chance an old newspaper fell into their hands, from some passing
-traveller. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled
-out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little
-man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the
-dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some
-months after they had taken place.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i026" src="images/i026.jpg" width="400" height="592" alt="“Yelping precipitation”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by Nicholas
-Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door
-of which he took his seat from morning till night, just moving
-sufficiently to avoid the sun, and keep in the shade of a large tree; so
-that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements, as accurately
-as by a sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked
-his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however (for every great man has
-his adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his
-opinions. When anything that was read <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> or related
-displeased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to
-send forth short, frequent, and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would
-inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid
-clouds, and sometimes taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the
-fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token
-of perfect approbation.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i027" src="images/i027.jpg" width="500" height="672" alt="“He would share the contents of his wallet”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i029" src="images/i029.jpg" width="400" height="454" alt="Nicholas Vedder" />
-</div>
-
-<p>From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his
-termagant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of the
-assemblage, and call the members all to nought; nor was that august
-personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of
-this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encouraging her
-husband in habits of idleness.</p>
-
-<p>Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair, and his only alternative
-to escape from the labor of the farm and the clamor of his wife, was to
-take gun in hand, and stroll away into the woods. Here he would
-sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents of
-his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in
-persecution. “Poor Wolf,” he would say, “thy mistress leads thee a dog’s
-life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want
-a friend to stand by thee!” Wolf would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> wag his tail, look wistfully in
-his master’s face, and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he
-reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.</p>
-
-<p>In a long ramble of the kind, on a fine autumnal day, Rip had
-unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill
-mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the
-still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun.
-Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a
-green knoll covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a
-precipice. From an opening between the trees, he could overlook all the
-lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the
-lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic
-course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging
-bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing
-itself in the blue highlands.</p>
-
-<p>On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild,
-lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from the impending
-cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun.
-For some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually
-advancing; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the
-valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the
-village; and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the
-terrors of Dame Van Winkle.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span>
-As he was about to descend he heard a voice from a distance hallooing,
-“Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!” He looked around, but could see
-nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He
-thought his fancy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span>
- must have deceived him, and turned
-again to descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the still
-evening air, “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!”&mdash;at the same time Wolf
-bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his master’s
-side, looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague
-apprehension stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the same
-direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks,
-and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was
-surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place,
-but supposing it to be some one of the neighborhood in need of his
-assistance, he hastened down to yield it.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>
-<img id="i031" src="images/i031.jpg" width="500" height="577" alt="“The brow of a precipice”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>On nearer approach, he was still more surprised at the singularity of
-the stranger’s appearance. He was a short, square-built old fellow, with
-thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique
-Dutch fashion&mdash;a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist&mdash;several pair of
-breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons
-down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulders a
-stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to
-approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful
-of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity, and
-mutually relieving each other, they clambered up a narrow gully,
-apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip
-every now and then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that
-seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft between lofty
-rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an
-instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient
-thunder-showers which often take place in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> mountain heights, he
-proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a
-small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the
-brinks of which, impending trees shot their branches, so that you only
-caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During
-the whole time, Rip and his companion had labored on in silence; for
-though the former marvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying
-a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange
-and incomprehensible about the unknown, that inspired awe, and checked
-familiarity.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i034" src="images/i034.jpg" width="400" height="571" alt="“He heard a voice”" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span>
-On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented
-themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking
-personages playing at nine-pins. They were dressed in a quaint
-outlandish fashion: some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long
-knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches, of
-similar style with that of the guide’s. Their visages too, were
-peculiar: one had a large head, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the
-face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted
-by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock’s tail. They
-all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>
-seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old
-gentleman, with a weather-beaten countenance; he wore a laced doublet,
-broad belt and hanger, high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and
-high-heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of
-the figures in an old Flemish painting, in the parlor of Domine Van
-Schaick, the village parson, and which had been brought over from
-Holland at the time of the settlement.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>
-<img id="i035" src="images/i035.jpg" width="500" height="654" alt="“A strange figure”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i037" src="images/i037.jpg" width="500" height="673" alt="“Rip and his companion labored on in silence”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i039" src="images/i039.jpg" width="400" height="596" alt="“A company of odd-looking personages”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were
-evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the
-most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of
-pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the
-scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled,
-echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.</p>
-
-<p>As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from
-their play, and stared at him with such a fixed statue-like gaze, and
-such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned
-within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the
-contents of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> keg into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait
-upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the
-liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game.</p>
-
-<p>By degrees, Rip’s awe and apprehension subsided. He even ventured, when
-no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had
-much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty
-soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste provoked
-another, and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often, that at
-length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head
-gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i040" src="images/i040.jpg" width="400" height="489" alt="“One who seemed to be the commander”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>On waking, he found himself on the green knoll from whence he had first
-seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> his eyes&mdash;it was
-a bright sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the
-bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure
-mountain breeze. “Surely,” thought Rip, “I have not slept here all
-night.” He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange
-man with the keg of liquor&mdash;the mountain ravine&mdash;the wild retreat among
-the rocks&mdash;the woe-begone party at nine-pins&mdash;the flagon&mdash;“Oh! that
-wicked flagon!” thought Rip&mdash;“what excuse shall I make to Dame Van
-Winkle?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i041" src="images/i041.jpg" width="500" height="658" alt="“They quaffed the liquor in profound silence”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i043" src="images/i043.jpg" width="400" height="359" alt="“I have not slept here all night”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean well-oiled
-fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel
-encrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He
-now suspected that the grave roysters of the mountain had put a trick
-upon him, and having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun.
-Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a
-squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him and shouted his name, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span>
-all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was
-to be seen.</p>
-
-<p>He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening’s gambol, and if
-he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to
-walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual
-activity. “These mountain beds do not agree with me,” thought Rip, “and
-if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall
-have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle.” With some difficulty he got
-down into the glen; he found the gully up which he and his companion had
-ascended the preceding evening; but to his astonishment a mountain
-stream was now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling
-the glen with babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up
-its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch,
-sassafras, and witch-hazel; and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the
-wild grape vines that twisted their coils and tendrils from tree to
-tree, and spread a kind of network in his path.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i044" src="images/i044.jpg" width="400" height="596" alt="“Wanting in his usual activity”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the cliffs
-to the amphitheatre; but no traces of such opening remained. The rocks
-presented a high impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came tumbling
-in a sheet of feathery <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span>
-foam, and fell into a broad deep
-basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then,
-poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his
-dog; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows,
-sporting high in the air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny
-precipice; and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and
-scoff at the poor man’s perplexities. What was to be done? The morning
-was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He
-grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it
-would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head,
-shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and
-anxiety, turned his steps homeward.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i045" src="images/i045.jpg" width="500" height="664" alt="“He called again and whistled after his dog”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i047" src="images/i047.jpg" width="500" height="236" alt="“Stroked their chins”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>As he approached the village, he met a number of people, but none whom
-he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had thought himself
-acquainted with every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of
-a different fashion from that to which he was accustomed. They all
-stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever they cast eyes
-upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> of
-this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his
-astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long!</p>
-
-<p>He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange
-children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray
-beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old
-acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered:
-it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had
-never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had
-disappeared. Strange names were over the doors&mdash;strange faces at the
-windows&mdash;everything was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to
-doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched.
-Surely this was his native village, which he had left but a day before.
-There stood the Kaatskill mountains&mdash;there ran the silver Hudson at a
-distance&mdash;there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always
-been&mdash;Rip was sorely perplexed&mdash;“That flagon last night,” thought he,
-“has addled my poor head sadly!”</p>
-
-<p>It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house,
-which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the
-shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay&mdash;the
-roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A
-half-starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip
-called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed
-on. This was an unkind cut indeed.&mdash;“My very dog,” sighed poor Rip, “has
-forgotten me!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span>
-He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had
-always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and
-apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all
-his connubial fears&mdash;he called loudly for his wife and children&mdash;the
-lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again was
-silence.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span>
-<img id="i049" src="images/i049.jpg" width="500" height="706" alt="“A troop of strange children ran at his heels”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span>
-<img id="i051" src="images/i051.jpg" width="500" height="568" alt="“He found the house gone to decay”" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i053" src="images/i053.jpg" width="400" height="622" alt="“He recognized on the sign”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village
-inn&mdash;but it too was gone. A large rickety wooden building stood in its
-place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken, and mended with
-old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, “The Union
-Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.” Instead of the great tree that used to
-shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall
-naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> night-cap,
-and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of
-stars and stripes&mdash;all this was strange and incomprehensible. He
-recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under
-which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe, but even this was
-singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and
-buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was
-decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large
-characters, <span class="smcap">General Washington</span>.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i055" src="images/i055.jpg" width="500" height="721" alt="“They crowded round him”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip
-recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was
-a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it,
-<a name="instead" id="instead"></a><ins title="Original has 'intead'">instead</ins>
-of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the
-sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long
-pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke, instead of idle speeches; or Van
-Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient
-newspaper. In place of these, a lean bilious-looking fellow, with his
-pockets full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of
-citizens&mdash;election&mdash;members of Congress&mdash;liberty&mdash;Bunker’s hill&mdash;heroes
-of seventy-six&mdash;and other words, that were a perfect Babylonish jargon
-to the bewildered Van Winkle.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i057" src="images/i057.jpg" width="500" height="629" alt="“A lean, bilious-looking fellow”" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span>
-The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, his rusty
-fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and the army of women and children
-that had gathered at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the
-tavern politicians. They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to
-foot, with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and drawing
-him partly aside, inquired, “on which side he voted?” Rip stared in
-vacant stupidity. Another short but busy
-little fellow pulled him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquired in
-his ear, “whether he was Federal or Democrat.” Rip was equally at a loss
-to comprehend the question; when a knowing, self-important old
-gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd,
-putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and
-planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm a-kimbo, the other
-resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it
-were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, “what brought him
-to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and
-whether he meant to breed a riot in the village?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span>
-<img id="i059" src="images/i059.jpg" width="400" height="360" alt="“He was killed at the storming of Stony Point”" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span>
-“Alas! gentlemen,” cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, “I am a poor, quiet
-man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the King, God bless
-him!”</p>
-
-<p>Here a general shout burst from the bystanders&mdash;“a tory! a tory! a spy!
-a refugee! hustle him! away with him!”</p>
-
-<p>It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked
-hat restored order; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow,
-demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom
-he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm,
-but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to
-keep about the tavern.</p>
-
-<p>“Well&mdash;who are they?&mdash;name them.”</p>
-
-<p>Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, “Where’s Nicholas Vedder?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width400">
-<img id="i060" src="images/i060.jpg" width="400" height="468" alt="“A great militia-general”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a
-thin, piping voice, “Nicholas Vedder? why, he is dead and gone these
-eighteen years! There was a wooden tomb-stone in the church-yard that
-used to tell all about him, but that’s rotten and gone too.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where’s Brom Dutcher?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; some say he
-was killed at the storming of Stony-Point&mdash;others say he was drowned in
-the squall, at the foot of Antony’s Nose. I don’t know&mdash;he never came
-back again.”</p>
-
-<p>“Where’s Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?”</p>
-
-<p>“He went off to the wars, too; was a great militia general, and is now
-in Congress.”</p>
-
-<p>Rip’s heart died away, at hearing of these sad changes in his home and
-friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer
-puzzled him, too, by treating of such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> enormous lapses of time, and of
-matters which he could not understand: war&mdash;Congress&mdash;Stony-Point!&mdash;he
-had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair,
-“Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, Rip Van Winkle!” exclaimed two or three. “Oh, to be sure! that’s
-Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree.”</p>
-
-<p>Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he went up
-the mountain; apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor
-fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and
-whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment,
-the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name?</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width250">
-<img id="i061" src="images/i061.jpg" width="250" height="470" alt="“That is Rip Van Winkle, yonder”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>“God knows,” exclaimed he at his wit’s end; “I’m not myself&mdash;I’m
-somebody else&mdash;that’s me yonder&mdash;no&mdash;that’s somebody else, got into my
-shoes&mdash;I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and
-they’ve changed my gun, and everything’s changed, and I’m changed, and I
-can’t tell what’s my name, or who I am!”</p>
-
-<p>The by-standers began now to look at each other, nod, wink
-significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> There was
-a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from
-doing mischief; at the very suggestion of which, the self-important man
-with the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical
-moment a fresh comely woman passed through the throng to get a peep at
-the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which,
-frightened at his looks, began to cry. “Hush, Rip,” cried she, “hush,
-you little fool; the old man won’t hurt you.” The name of the child, the
-air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of
-recollections in his mind.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width250">
-<img id="i062" src="images/i062.jpg" width="250" height="418" alt="“A fresh, comely woman”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>“What is your name, my good woman?” asked he.</p>
-
-<p>“Judith Gardenier.”</p>
-
-<p>“And your father’s name?”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah, poor man, his name was Rip Van Winkle; it’s twenty years since he
-went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since&mdash;his
-dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried
-away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl.”</p>
-
-<p>Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a faltering
-voice:</p>
-
-<p>“Where’s your mother?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i063" src="images/i063.jpg" width="500" height="654" alt="“What is your name, my good woman?”" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span>
-Oh, she too had died but a short time since: she broke a blood-vessel in
-a fit of passion at a New-England pedler.</p>
-
-<p>There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest
-man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her
-child in his arms. “I am your father!” cried he&mdash;“Young Rip Van Winkle
-once&mdash;old Rip Van Winkle now&mdash;Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle!”</p>
-
-<p>All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the
-crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a
-moment, exclaimed, “Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle&mdash;it is himself.
-Welcome home again, old neighbor&mdash;Why, where have you been these twenty
-long years?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width250">
-<img id="i065" src="images/i065.jpg" width="250" height="354" alt="Peter Vanderdonk" />
-</div>
-
-<p>Rip’s story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him
-but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard it; some were
-seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues in their cheeks; and
-the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over,
-had returned to the field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and
-shook his head&mdash;upon which there was a general shaking of the head
-throughout the assemblage.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i066" src="images/i066.jpg" width="500" height="386" alt="“Friends among the rising generation”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter Vanderdonk,
-who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He was a descendant of the
-historian of that name, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> wrote one of the earliest accounts of the
-province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the village, and well
-versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of the neighborhood.
-He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most
-satisfactory manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed
-down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill mountains had
-always been haunted by strange beings. That it was affirmed that the
-great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and country,
-kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the
-Halfmoon, being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his
-enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river and the great city
-called by his name. That his father had once seen them in their old
-Dutch dresses playing at nine-pins in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> hollow of the
-mountain; and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound
-of their balls, like distant peals of thunder.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i067" src="images/i067.jpg" width="500" height="638" alt="“Once more on the bench at the inn door”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>To make a long story short, the company broke up, and returned to the
-more important concerns of the election. Rip’s daughter took him home to
-live with her; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout cheery
-farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that
-used to climb upon his back. As to Rip’s son and heir, who was the ditto
-of himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on
-the farm; but evinced a hereditary disposition to attend to anything
-else but his business.</p>
-
-<p>Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found many of his
-former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of
-time; and preferred making friends among the rising generation, with
-whom he soon grew into great favor.</p>
-
-<p>Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when a
-man can do nothing with impunity, he took his place once more on the
-bench, at the inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of
-the village, and a chronicle of the old times “before the war.” It was
-some time before he could get into the regular track of gossip, or could
-be made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place during his
-torpor. How that there had been a revolutionary war&mdash;that the country
-had thrown off the yoke of old England&mdash;and that, instead of being a
-subject of his majesty George the Third, he was now a free citizen of
-the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician; the changes of
-states and empires made but little impression on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> him; but there was one
-species of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that
-was&mdash;petticoat government. Happily, that was at an end; he had got his
-neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he
-pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her
-name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders,
-and cast up his eyes; which might pass either for an expression of
-resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter width500">
-<img id="i070" src="images/i070.jpg" width="500" height="332" alt="“He used to tell his story to every stranger”" />
-</div>
-
-<p>He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr.
-Doolittle’s hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points
-every time he told it, which was doubtless owing to his having so
-recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have
-related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood, but knew it
-by heart. Some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> always pretended to doubt the reality of it, and
-insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point
-on which he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however,
-almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day, they never
-hear a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they
-say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of nine-pins; and it
-is a common wish of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, when
-life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught
-out of Rip Van Winkle’s flagon.</p>
-
-<blockquote>
-<p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;The foregoing tale, one would suspect, had been suggested
-to Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the
-Emperor Frederick <i>der Rothbart</i> and the Kypphauser mountain;
-the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to the tale,
-shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual
-fidelity.</p>
-
-<p>“The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many, but
-nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity
-of our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to
-marvellous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many
-stranger stories than this, in the villages along the Hudson;
-all of which were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I
-have even talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, who, when last I
-saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational
-and consistent on every other point, that I think no
-conscientious person could refuse to take this into the bargain;
-nay, I have seen a certificate on the subject taken before a
-country justice, and signed with a cross, in the justice’s own
-handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond the possibility of
-doubt.”</p>
-</blockquote>
-
-
-<div class="section">
-<hr class="divider" />
-</div>
-<div class="tn">
-<p class="center">Transcriber’s Note:</p>
-
-<p class="noi">The order of illustrations has been retained as published in the
-original publication.</p>
-
-<p>The following changes were made:</p>
-
-<ul>
-<li>On the title page<br />
-S. E Cassino <i>changed to</i><br />
-S. <a href="#fullstop">E.</a> Cassino</li>
-
-<li>In the List of Illustrations<br />
-personages” facing 26 <i>changed to</i>
-<a href="#facing">facing 29</a></li>
-
-<li>Page 38<br />
-intead of the <i>changed to</i><br />
-<a href="#instead">instead</a> of the</li>
-</ul>
-</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIP VAN WINKLE ***</div>
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