The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1871-03-30
Gaeg1teIEigetttH
The Rip Van Winkle Of the Talmud


is chiefly femarkable from It's resemblance
in one or two particulars, to the world.re
nowned story Of Rip Van Wrinkle, which
Washington Irving gave to the world, ant
which has been revived in the drama BY
Mr.. Joseph Jefferson. The Rabbi wa
learned above his peers, and many rever
enced him for his wisdom and eruditiOn
But he perceived not the necessity fol
that charity and forethought which SHOULD
induce individuals to make provision fol
those coming after them, and therefore HI
received the stern lesson.
An old man was planting Carob.tree
and displayed heartiness and zeal which
seemed to indicate that he expected to en-
Joy the results Of his labor. Coniah re
Igarded him with establishment and Ger
tain degree Of contempt. For it is tra
dition Of the Talmud that a carob-tre(
does not bear fruit till seventy years aftel
it has been planted " 5el
'"Do you expect to eat the fruit Of thi
tree?" the Rabbi asked with shrug o
disdain.
"Rabbi," answered the old man meekly
but with dignity, when l was q littl
child this field abounded with carob-tree
Iladen with fruit. My father had plantel
them for me; plant this tree for M
children"
Ccniah turned away murmuring: "FOI
his children. Blind, how blind VIC are
We live in this world but brief period
and yet presume to provide for those who
will come after us. They must die a
well as we. Our existence was not giver
US merely for this world. Every mar
ought to consider his heavenly life, ant
forego all care or interest about the few
days that he and others will spend here
What Is our lot, or tho lot ofour children
Is OF little account. We are destined iel
heaven and that is enough" \ ( .
While he was meditating in this man
ner, Coniah lay down upon the ground
Feeling the sensation Of hunger he drew
forth from his pocket piece OF bread
and ate, continuing his reflection. Pres
emily he became drowsy, and fell asleep
He awoke not all that day, nor during tlt
night. They day returned, and the nigh
begun again, and still he slept. Thus
passed many days and nights during
which he awOke not. A wall Of stone
was erected over him by miracle, and
shut him from the sight Of men.
Thus for years he lay ilcarcerated rs 10
u tomb. Generations passed away, and
numerous events occurred to change the
aspect Of tho world. Finally seventy
years were accomplished, and the stony
sepulchre disappeared, restoring Conial
to the light of day. He awoke rs the sun
assembled the meridian, md exclaimed;
"Verily, have slept long. 1t was 4
little before the dusk Of evening when
10y down; and now the sun Is midway In
the sky
lie arose and walked to the place where
he had reproachCd the old man who
had planted tho tree for posterity. Be
hold, 1t was fully grown, and a boy stoo(
near to It, eating OF It's fruit. Coniah &C
costed him: tIftIl
MY young friend, who planted tha
carob-treeE
"Not l." replied tho youth "for 1t re
quires many years for such a tree to ma
ture and yield It's fruit. My father do
clared 10 me that my grandfather planted
It," -
Coniah heard this with afeeling Of hor
ror.
"TherO can be no mistake" said he L
himself "Here 1t Is that l rebuked tht
old man, and there l lay down and slept
The tree bears fruit, and l have been sleep
ing for seventy years."
Full Of anxiety, he directed Ills foot
steps toward the city where he had dwClt
But he soon paused,in sad bewilderment
The old path had gone, and tho familiaI
trees and landmarks had disappeared
The houses had put on an Unfamiliar ap
pearanCe. Everything around him wa
strange and new,
At length he discovered tho way, ant
he came TO the city. AmultitudG swarm
ed in the streets. COniah looked sharply
butno face could he descry that had Deel
ever known to him. Once he had hos
Of admirers; but now he was not rCcog
nized by any one. For him was. no wei
come, no word Of greeting. A terrible
sense Of isolation came over him. Hewa
alone in the midst of that crowd, as mucl
so as If he had been in the solitude Of
desert. Bitter was the anguish Of tina
hour. A faint hope only remained tomit
igate the fierceness Of his despair.
"No more" said he to himself, mo NOR
have l friends and acquaintance But M,
family yet remains to me. With them
may yet find q home, and consolation AM
! peace.
With thrObbing heart he hastened +
the house where he had dwelt. But a
he went along his confidence abated. Fl
could not recognize his home, neither Ii
walls nor the roof. Everything was new
With q feeling Of hesitation Ire entered
Children were at play; their mother aide,
in their sports, while their father, hal
middle.aged man, was at his work. Tn
moment that Coniah was perceived, a
were still, and regarded him with apprt
hension and looks Of suspicion. Address
ing himself to the man, he said:
"Gall Tor me the son Of COniah."
1.-THE son of Coniah!" exclaimed Ii
man in astonishment, "He has long sine
slept with his fathers"
."Who, then, are you" COniah asked.
u am the grandson Of Coniah."
Overjoyed, Coniah extended his arm
to embrace him, exclainling: u am you
grandfather"
But the grandson eluded his caresses
and replied with great astonishment:
"You my grandfather Mol 1 neve
saw you, and know you not"
The distracted Coniah began to tell III
story Of his wonderful sleep, and to entries
for tho affection Of his grandson. But III
latter shook his head and answered:
"You may remain here with me and d
what you please. But do not ask m
love, ! have never seen you before and
> know you not"
So Coniah remained. But his life wa
wretched. There was no memory to cor
meet him with his family and endcar then
to each other. lie was in solitude, a
, though surrounded BY living persons: 70