Rip Van Winkle

Rip’s only supporter at homesole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked as his master.master; for Dame Van Winkle sawregarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master’s frequent wanderingsgoing so often astray. In every quality True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honourable dog, he was as courageous as any animal that ever ran through the woods. But an animal as ever scoured the woods—but what courage can withstand the harm and the terrors that surround evil-doing and all-besetting terrors of a woman’s tongue? The moment Wolf entered the house, his chest fell and house his chest fell, his tail drooped to the ground or curled between his legs. He legs, he sneaked about with the air of a condemned criminala gallows air, givingcasting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the slightest wave of a broomstick or ladle, he rushed to the door, yelping.least flourish of a broomstick or ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation.

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as the years of marriageyears of matrimony rolled on; a sourtart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows sharperkeener with constant use. For a long while, while he used to console himself, when driven from home, he consoled himself by visiting a sort of never-ending by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the village’s wise men, philosophers sages, philosophers, and other idle characters. They held their meetings personages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench outside before a small inn, marked by a red-faced portrait of His designated by a rubicund portrait of his Majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long, lazy summer’s day, talking lazilylistlessly over village gossip, or telling endless, sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman’s money to hear have heard the profound discussions that sometimes took place when a passing traveller happened to leave place, when by chance an old newspaper in their hands.fell into their hands from some passing traveller. How solemnly they listened as would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, read the news in his slow drawl! He was a neat, a dapper learned little man, undaunted who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary. And how wisely they debated public events, dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some months after they had happened!taken place.

The opinions of this group junto were completely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, a village elder patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn. He sat at its door inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning till night, moving just enough just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun sun, and keep in a large tree’s shade. His the shade of a large tree; so that the neighbours could tell the time from hour by his movements as accurately as from a sundial.by a sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His followers, however (for every great man has his followers), understood him perfectly and knew how to work outadherents, however (for every great man has his adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When anything read or told that was read or related displeased him, he smoked his pipe fiercely and sent out short, frequent, angry puffs. When pleased, he drew in 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 calmly and let it out in light, peaceful clouds. Sometimes he took tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds, and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, let the fragrant smoke curl around his nose, and gravely nodded his head to show his complete approval.and letting the fragrant vapour curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation.

At last, Rip’s quarrelsome wife drove him even from this stronghold. She suddenly broke into the group’s peaceful gathering and scolded every member. Even the august Nicholas Vedder was not safe 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 naught; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible shrew: she openly accused him of encouraging her husband’svirago, who charged him outright with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness.

Poor Rip was at last almost in despair. His only way to escape farm work and his wife’s clamour reduced almost to despair; and his only alternative, to escape from the labour of the farm and clamour of his wife, was to take his gun and stroll gun in hand, and stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the food in his provisions bagcontents of his walletExplanation: Here “wallet” means a bag for provisions. Rip shares its food with his dog. with Wolf. He sympathised with Wolf as a fellow sufferer fromwith Wolf, with whom he sympathised as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. “Poor Wolf,” he would say, “your mistress gives you a dog’s lifethy mistress leads thee a dog’s life of it; but never mind, my lad, while I live, you will never lack a friend to stand by youwhilst 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 truly believe he returned the feelingverily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.

On one of these long rambles, In a long ramble of the kind, on a fine autumn autumnal day, Rip had climbed without realising it unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Catskill Mountains.Kaatskill mountains. He was enjoying his favourite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the quiet wilderness had echoed and re-echoed with the sounds of his gunshots.after his favourite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun. Panting and tiredfatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a green mound, covered with mountain grassknoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the trees, he could look out overoverlook 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 slow-moving boatlagging 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 valley, wild, lonely and overgrown. Its bottom was filled with broken rock from the overhanging cliffs and barely lit 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 thinking over this scene. Evening was drawing on, and musing on this scene; evening was gradually advancing; the mountains began to cast throw their long blue shadows across the valleys. He over the valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the village. He village; and he heaved a heavy sigh at the thought of facing when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle.

As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance callinghallooing: “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!” He looked round, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought his imaginationfancy 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, the hair on Wolf’s back stood up. With Winkle!”—at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, he crept skulked to his master’s side and looked side, looking fearfully down into the valley.glen. Rip now felt a vague fear stealing over him. He apprehension stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the same direction and saw direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly struggling toiling up the rocks, bent beneath and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was surprised to see anyone in this lonely, rarely visited place. But, supposing it was a neighbour who needed help, he hurried down to giveany human being in this lonely and unfrequented place, but supposing it to be some one of the neighbourhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it.

As he came closer, the stranger’s unusual appearance surprised him still more.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 grey-streakedgrizzled beard. His dress was of the oldantique Dutch fashion—a cloth jerkin, or sleeveless jacket,jerkin strapped round the waist—several pairs of breeches, the outer pair very largepair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He carried a sturdy small barrel on his shoulder that seemed full of liquor. He signalled to Rip to come and help him carry it.bore on his shoulder 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 suspicious distrustful of his new acquaintance, Rip agreed complied with his usual eagerness. Taking turns with the load, alacrity; and mutually relieving one another, they clambered up a narrow channel, gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder. They seemed to come from a deep ravine, or rather a gap between tall rocks, towards which their broken path led.thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft between lofty rocks, toward which their ragged path conducted. He paused for an instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of a passing thunderstorm, such as often happens high in the mountainsone of those transient thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Through Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow hollow, like a small natural amphitheatre, a bowl-shaped open space. It was surrounded by sheer cliffs, with branches stretching from trees over their edges. You could catch only amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only caught glimpses of the blue sky azure sky, and the bright evening cloud. All this time, During the whole time Rip and his companion had worked on in silence. Rip wondered greatly why anyone would carry a barrel 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 mountain, yet there was something strange and incomprehensible about the unknown man filled him with awe and kept him from being friendly.unknown, that inspired awe, and checked familiarity.

As they entered the amphitheatre, new wonders appeared.On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking characters playing ninepins, a bowling game with nine pins.personages playing at ninepins.Explanation: Ninepins is a bowling game in which players try to knock down nine wooden pins with a ball. Its rumbling sound becomes part of the mountain legend. They were dressed in a strange, old-fashioned stylequaint outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, or fitted jacketsdoublets, others wore jerkinsjerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches, in a style similar toof similar style with that of the guide’s. Their facesvisages, too, were peculiar; one had a large beard, 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, tall and cone-shapedhat, set off with a little red cock’s tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colours. 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, a short swordhangerExplanation: A hanger is a short sword worn at the belt., high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes decorated with rose-shaped ornamentsshoes, with roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting painting, in the parlour of Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson. It parson, and which had been brought from Holland when the village was first settled.over from Holland at the time of the settlement.

What seemed particularly odd to Rip was that these people were clearly enjoying themselves, yet kept the gravest faces and was, that these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence. Altogether, they were silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever seen.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 stopped playingdesisted from their play, and stared at him as fixedly as statues. Their strange, rough, dull-eyed faces made his heart turn within him with such fixed statue-like gaze, and such strange uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees knocksmote together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large drinking jugsflagons, and signalled to him to servemade signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they drankquaffed the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game.

Gradually, Rip’s awe and fear faded.By degrees, Rip’s awe and apprehension subsided. When no one was watching, he even dared to taste the He even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the drink. It tasted very much like excellent Hollands, a Dutch gin.beverage which he found had much of the flavour of excellent Hollands.Explanation: Hollands is gin made in the Netherlands. The drink is alcoholic, not water; its role in Rip’s strange sleep is preserved. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to take another drinkrepeat the draught. One taste led to another. He returned to the jug so often that at last provoked another; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often, that at length his senses were overcome. His overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually sank, declined, and he fell into a deep sleep.