Rip Van Winkle audiobook short story by Washington Irving Learn English Through Story
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rip van winkle by washington irving
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whoever has made a voyage up the hudson
must remember the catskill 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 grey 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 described 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
weather
in that same village and in one of these
very houses which to tell a 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 hand-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
plant 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 termigant wife may therefore in some
respects be considered a tolerable
blessing
and if so
rip van winkle was thrice blessed
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
talk 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
play things 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
pocket him throughout the neighborhood
the great error in rip’s composition was
an insuperable aversion to all kinds of
profitable labor
it could not be from the wand 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 fouling piece on his
shoulder for hours together trudging
through woods and swamps and uphill 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
frolicks 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
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 outdoor 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
condition farm in the neighborhood
his children too were as ragged and wild
as if they belong 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
coat at his mother’s heels equipped in a
pair of his father’s cast off
galagaskins which he had much ado to
hold up with one hand as a fine lady
does her train in bad weather
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
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 feigned to draw off his
forces and take to the outside of the
house the only side which in truth
belongs to a hand-picked
husband rip’s sole domestic adherent was
his dog wolf
who was as much hen packed 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 masters 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 side-long glance at dame van
winkle and at the 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 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 idol
personages of the village
which held its sessions on a bench
before a small inn
designated by a rubicon portrait of his
majesty george the third
here they used to sit in the shade
through 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 that sometimes took
place
when by chance an old newspaper fell
into their hands from some passing
traveler
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 the public events
some months after they had taken place
the opinions of this hunto were
completely controlled by nicolas vetter
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 sundial
it is true he was hardly heard to speak
but smoked his pipe incessantly
his adherence however
for every great man has his adherence
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 and
token of perfect approbation
from even this stronghold the unlucky
rip was at length routed by his
terminate wife who would suddenly break
in upon the tranquility of the
assemblage and call the members all to
not
nor was that august personage nicholas
vetter 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 clamour 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 the 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 catskill
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
hallowing
rip van winkle
rip van winkle
he looked round but could see nothing
but a crow
winging at 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
ripped van winkle
rip van winkle
at the same time
wolf bristled up his back and giving a
low growl
sculpt 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 someone of the
neighborhood in need of his assistance
he hastened down to yield it 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 jerking strapped around the
waist
several pair of breeches
the outer one of apple volume
decorated with rows of buttons down the
sides and bunches at the knees
he 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 distrustful of this new
acquaintance rip complied with his usual
alacrity
and mutually relieving one another they
clamored up a narrow gully
apparently the dry bed of a mountain
torrent
as they ascended rip every now and then
heard long
rolling pills like distant thunder that
seemed to issue out of a deep ravine or
rather cleft between lofty rocks toward
which this rugged path conducted
he paused for an instant
but supposing it to be the muttering of
one of those transient thundershowers
which often take place in mountain
heights he proceeded
passing through the ravine they came to
a hollow
like a small amphitheater
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 marveled 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
on entering the amphitheater new objects
of wonder presented themselves
on a level spot in the center was a
company of odd-looking personages
playing at nine pins
they were dressed in a quaint outlandish
fashion
some wore short doublets other jerkins
with long knives in their belts and most
of them had enormous bridges of similar
style with that of the guides
their visages 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 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 domini van sheikh the
village parson and which had been
brought over from holland at the time of
the settlement
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 with all 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 peels of
thunder
as rip and his companion approach them
they
suddenly desisted from their play
and stared at him with such fixed
statue-like gaze and such strange
uncouth lackluster countenances that his
heart turned within him and his knees
smoked 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 the 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 draft
one taste provoked another
and he reiterated his visits to the flag
and 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
on waking he found himself on the green
knoll whence he had first seen the old
man of the glenn
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 a keg of liquor the
mountain ravine the wild retreat among
the rocks the woe be gone party at nine
pins the flagon
oh
that flag and
that wicked flag and thought rip
what excuse shall i make today van
winkle
he looked round for his gun
but in place of the clean well-oiled
fouling piece he found an old fire lock
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 after a squirrel or a
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 gamble 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 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 at 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 grapevines that
twisted their coils or tendrils from
tree to tree and spread a kind of
network in his path
at length he reached to where the ravine
had opened through the cliffs to the
amphitheater
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 coin of a
flock of idle crows sporting high in 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 one 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 fire lock and with
a heart full of trouble and anxiety
turned his steps homeward
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 everyone
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 their
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 the day before
there stood the catskill 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 window 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 curse
snarled showed his teeth and passed on
this was an unkind cut indeed
my very dog
side poor rip has forgotten me
he entered the house which to tell the
truth dame van winkle had always kept a
neat order
it was empty
forlorn and apparently abandoned
this desolateness overcame all his
conubeal 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
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 scepter the head was decorated with a
cocked hat and underneath was painted in
large characters
general washington
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 tranquility
he looked in vain for the sage nicholas
vetter
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 hand bills was haranguing
vehemently about rights of citizens
elections
members of congress liberty
bunkers hill
heroes of 76
and other words which were a perfect
babylonish jargon to the bewildered van
winkle
the appearance of rip with his long
grizzled beard his rusty fouling piece
his uncouthed dress and an army of women
and children at his heels soon attracted
the attention of the tavern politicians
they crowded around 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 akimbo 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
alas
gentleman 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 they thought himself a moment and
inquired
where’s nicholas better
there was a silence for a little while
when an old man replied in a thin piping
voice
nicholas better why he’s dead and gone
these 18 years there was a wooden
tombstone in the churchyard 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 a squall at
the foot of anthony’s nose i don’t know
he never came back again well
where’s ben bummel
the school master
well he went after 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 hear no rip van winkle
oh
oh rip van winkle exclaimed two or three
oh to be sure uh that’s uh rip famico
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
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 my name
or who i am
the bystanders 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 in the
cocked hat retired with some
precipitation
at this critical moment a fresh
calmly woman pressed 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 cry chi hush you little fool
the old man won’t hurt you
the name of the child the heir of the
mother the tone of her voice
all awakened a train of recollections in
his mind
what is your name my good woman
asked he
judith gardner
and your father’s name
ah poor man
a rip van winker was his name but it’s
20 years since he went away from home
with his gun and never has been heard up
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 faltering voice
where’s your mother
oh
she too had died but a short time since
she broke a blood vessel in a bit of
passion at a new england peddler
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 wants old rip van winkle now
does nobody know poor rip van winkle
all stood amazed until an old woman
tattering 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 rit van winkle it is
himself
welcome home again old neighbor why
where have you been these 20 long years
rip’s story was soon told for the whole
20 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
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 catskill 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 20 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 peels 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 rips sun and air
who was the ditto of himself seen
leaning against the tree
he was employed to work on the farm
but evinced and 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 worst 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 in 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 faith
or joy of 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 awake
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 catskill but
they say hendrick hudson and his crew
are at their game of nine pins
and it is a common wish of all
hand-picked husbands in the neighborhood
when life hangs heavy on their hands
that they might have a quieting draft
out of rip van winkle’s flagon
you