The Charleston daily news. [volume] (Charleston, S.C.) 1865-1873, 1871-01-04
SLEEPING SEVENTY sUMMERs.
The Rip Van Wrinkle of tho Talm ud

The Rip Van Wrinkle OF the Tain ud.
The story OF the Rabbi Conlah hos been re-
produced for The Jewish Messenger, and Is
chiefly remarkable for It's resemblance In one
or two particulars 10 the world-renown story
of Rip Van Winkle, which Washington Irving
gave to the world, and which has been revived
in the drama by Mr. Joseph Jefferson. The
Rabbi was learned above his peers, and many
reverenced lin for his wisdom and erudltion.
But he perceived not the necessity Of that
charity and forethought which should induce
individuals to make provision for those coming
after them, and therefore he received the
stern lesson.
An old man was planting carob tree, and
displayed heartlness which seemed to 1ndl-
cate that he expected to enjoy the results OF
his labor. Coniah regarded him with aston
ishment and certain degree of contempt, for
It fs a tradition OF the Talmuf that carob tree
does not bear fruit. till seventy years after Il
| has been planted.
"Do YOU expect to eat of the fruit of this
tree ?" the Rabbi asked, with shrug Of dis
| dain.
WRabbI,n answed the old man meekly, but
|. with dignity, "when was little child this
| field abounded with carob trees laden with
| fruit NY fathers had planted them for me;
plant this tree for my Children.
Conlah turned away murmurlng: "F0r ms
| children. Blind, how blind we are. We live
| in this world but brief PERIOD ana yet pre-
sumo to provide for those that will come after
US. They must die as well as we. Our exist
ence was not giveh Us merely for this world.
Every man ought 10 consider his heavenly life,
! and fOrego all care or interest about the few
days that he and others will spend here. what
Is our lot, or the lot Of Our children, s OF little
account. We are destined Tor heaven, ana
| that Is enough"
While he was meditating In this manner,
Coniah lay down upon the ground: Feeling
| the sensation of hunger, he drew forth from
his pocket piece Of bread, and ate, c0ntinu-
Ing his reflections. Presently he became
drowsy, and fell asleep. He awoke not all
that day, nor during. that night. The day re.
turned, and the night begun again, and stu
during which he awoke not. A wall of stone
was erected over him by.a miracle, and smut
him from the sight OF men.
Thus for years he lay incarcerated as In
tomb Generations passed away. and numer-
Gus events occurred to change the aspect Of
the world. Finally seventy years were accom-
plished, and the stony sepulchre disappeared,
restoring .Coniah to the light of day. He
awokc as the sun assembled the meridian, anu
exclaimed: ,,..,
s.VeriIy, 1 have slept long. It was o little
before the dusk OF evening when lay down,
and now the sum- midway in the sky"
He arose and walked to the place where ne
had reproached the old man yho planted tae
tree Tor posterlty. Beh9la, u was fully grown,
and boy stood near . e g Il t eating Of Its truit
"My young friend, who planted that earoo
tree ?"
"Not I,"replied the youth, "for 1t requires
many years for such tree to mature and Yield
Its fruit. My father declared to me tnaC my
grandfather planted it."
Conlali heard this with feeling of horror.
There can be no mistake, said ne to him.
self.
"Here It is that rebuked the old man, and
there I 10y down and slept. The tree bears
fruit, and hare been sleeping ior seventy
years" ...
Full OF anxiety, he directed his footsteps to-
ward the city where he had dwelt. But he
soon paused in sad bewilderment. The. OLD
path was gone. and the familiar trees aud
landmarks had disappeared. The houses mad
put on an unfamiliar appearance. Everything
around him was strange and new.
at length he discovered the way, ana ne
came to the city. multitude swarmed IN
the streets. Conah looked sharply, btlt no
| face could Re descry that had ever been known
| To him. Once he had O host Of admirers; but
now he was not recognized by any one. For
| hm was no welcome, no word OF greeting.
| terrible scene of isolation came over him. He
was alone In the midst OF thar crowd, as much
| SO as had he been In the solitude OF desert
| Bitter was the anguish of that hour. faint
| hope only remained TO mitigate the herceness
| OF his despair
mo more" said he to himself, ''no more
have friends and acquaintances. But my
family vet remains 10 me. With them l may
| vet find home, and consolation, and peace"
With tnrobblng heart he hastened to the
house where he had dwelt. But rs he went
nlong his confidence abated. He could not re-
copuize his home, neither the walls nor the
roof. Everything was new. With feeling OF
hesitation he entered. Children were at play;
the mother aided in their sports, while the
father, O hule mlddle-aged man, was at his
work. The moment that Coniah was perceived
all were still, and regarded him with appre-
hension and looks OF suspicion. Addressing
himself to the man he said:
"Call for me the son Of Coniah."
1.-THE son Of ConIah ~ exclaimed the man in
astonishment; "he has long since Slept With
- nWho. then. are you ?n Coniah asked.
81 am the grandson Of Coniah."
Oyerloycd, Coniah extended his arms to en-
brace Him, exclalming: II am your grand
But the grandson eluded his caresses, and
replied, with great establishment:
lyon my Srandlatner NO L never saw
you, and know you,not."
The distracted Coniah began to tell the
story of his wonderful sleep, and to entreat
for the affection Of his grandson. But The
latter shook his head, and answered.;
''You may remain here with me and 90
what you please; but do not ask my love.
have never seen you before, and know you
not"
So Coniah remained. But bis life was
wreLched. There was no memory 10 connect
him with Ills family and endear Them to each
other. he was in solitude. although surround
cd by living persons; for they had never seen
him before, and their hearts were not opened
toward him. He was never more than
stranger who abode with them.
| He visited the elderly men Of the city, but
no one could recognize him. They remem-
| bered the name Of Coniah, the great rabbi, but
when he attempted to make himself known
they repulsed him angrlly, saying:
'.You are imposing upon US. Contah has
been dead for many, many years. You cannot
| be her p; :
So he wandered about with his terrible sor-
| TOW, seeking some Ansman or friend to love
and comfort him. But it was in vain. He
could be received nowhere without name,
and, when be insisted upon his own, he was
| secuted as an fmposIer.
One day he entered into the college where
once he had been accustomed to teach and
receive honor To avoid reproacf, he forbore
| to mention his name or speak Of himself. A
| learned discussion was going on, and he
1 li,tap cd nj ooo Aa each man