rip van winkle-第4章

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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。

　　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　Half…moon；　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　a　hollow　of　the　mountain；　and　that　he

himself　had　heard；　one　summer　afternoon；　the　sound　of　their　balls；

like　distant　peals　of　thunder。

　　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　an　hereditary　disposition　to

attend　to　any　thing　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　be　idle　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。

　　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　thunderstorm　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　hen…pecked

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　Kyffhauser　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。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　D。　K。〃



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　POSTSCRIPT。



　　The　following　are　travelling　notes　from　a　memorandum…book　of　Mr。

Knickerbocker：

　　The　Kaatsberg；　or　Catskill　Mountains；　have　always　been　a　region　full

of　fable。　The　Indians　considered　them　the　abode　of　spirits；　who

influenced　the　weather；　spreading　sunshine　or　clouds　over　the

landscape；　and　sending　good　or　bad　hunting　seasons。　They　were　ruled　by

an　old　squaw　spirit；　said　to　be　their　mother。　She　dwelt　on　the　highest

peak　of　the　Catskills；　and　had　charge　of　the　doors　of　day　and　night　to

open　and　shut　them　at　the　proper　hour。　She　hung　up　the　new　moons　in

the　skies；　and　cut　up　the　old　ones　into　stars。　In　times　of　drought；　if

properly　propitiated；　she　would　spin　light　summer　clouds　out　of

cobwebs　and　morning　dew；　and　send　them　off　from　the　crest　of　the

mountain；　flake　after　flake；　like　flakes　of　carded　cotton；　to　float　in

the　air；　until；　dissolved　by　the　heat　of　the　sun；　they　would　fall　in

gentle　showers；　causing　the　grass　to　spring；　the　fruits　to　ripen；

and　the　corn　to　grow　an　inch　an　hour。　If　displeased；　however；　she

would　brew　up　clouds　black　as　ink；　sitting　in　the　midst　of　them　like　a

bottle…bellied　spider　in　the　midst　of　its　web；　and　when　these　clouds

broke；　wo　betide　the　valleys！

　　In　old　times；　say　the　Indian　traditions；　there　was　a　kind　of　Manitou

or　Spirit；　who　kept　about　the　wildest　recesses　of　the　Catskill

Mountains；　and　took　a　mischievous　pleasure　in　wreaking　all　kinds　of

evils　and　vexations　upon　the　red　men。　Sometimes　he　would　assume　the

form　of　a　bear；　a　panther；　or　a　deer；　lead　the　bewildered　hunter　a

weary　chase　through　tangled　forests　and　among　ragged　rocks；　and　then

spring　off　with　a　loud　ho！　ho！　leaving　him　aghast　on　the　brink　of　a

beetling　precipice　or　raging　torrent。

　　The　favorite　abode　of　this　Manitou　is　still　shown。　It　is　a　great

rock　or　cliff　on　the　loneliest　part　of　the　mountains；　and；　from　the

flowering　vines　which　clamber　about　it；　and　the　wild　flowers　which

abound　in　its　neighborhood；　is　known　by　the　name　of　Garden　Rock。

Near　the　foot　of　it　is　a　small　lake；　the　haunt　of　the　solitary

bittern；　with　water…snakes　basking　in　the　sun　on　the　leaves　of　the

pond…lilies　which　lie　on　the　surface。　This　place　was　held　in　great　awe

by　the　Indians；　insomuch　that　the　boldest　hunter　would　not　pursue

his　game　within　its　precincts。　Once　upon　a　time；　however；　a　hunter　who

had　lost　his　way；　penetrated　to　the　garden　rock；　where　he　beheld　a

number　of　gourds　placed　in　the　crotches　of　trees。　One　of　these　he

seized　and　made　off　with　it；　but　in　the　hurry　of　his　retreat　he　let　it

fall　among　the　rocks；　when　a　great　stream　gushed　forth；　which　washed

him　away　and　swept　him　down　precipices；　where　he　was　dashed　to　pieces；

and　the　stream　made　its　way　to　the　Hudson；　and　continues　to　flow　to

the　present　day；　being　the　identical　stream　known　by　the　name　of　the

Kaaters…kill。





　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　END

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