The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1873-11-01

CONCLUDED
BY WOODEN God of Saxons
From whence comes Wens,ay. that is "Wednesday.
Truth is thing that ever ! will keep
Unto thylike day in which creep into
My sepulchre-- CARTWRIGHT.
He determined to revisit the scene of the
last evenings gambol, and if he met with
any of the party, to demand his dog and
gun. AS he rose to walk, he found him.
self 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 fit of
the rheumatism, l shall have blessed
time with Dame Van Wrinkle" With
some difficulty he got down into the glen:
he found the gully up which he and his
companion had assembled the preceding
evening; but to his astonishment noun
tain stream was now foaming down it,
leaping from rock to rock, and filling the
glen with babbling murmurs. He, how
ever, made shift to scramble up its Sides
working his toilsome way through thick
cts of birch, sassafras, and witch-hazel,
and sometimes tripped up Or entangled by
the wild grape-vnes that twisted their
coils or tendrils from tree to tree, and
spread kind of network in his path.
At length he reached to where the IA
vine had opened through the cliffs to the
amphitheatre; but no traces of such OPEN
ing remained. The rocks presented a
high, impenetrable wall, over which the
torrent came tumbling in a sheet of ft ath-
cry foam, and fell into broad deep basin,
black from the shadows of the surrounding
forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought
to stand. He again called and whistled
after his dog; he was only answered by the
cawing of flock of idle crows, sporting
high in air about dry tree that overhung
sunny precipice; and who, secure in their
elevation, seemed to look down and scott
at the poor mans perplexities. What was
to be done? the morning was passing
away, and Rip felt furnished for want 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, shoulder
ed the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full
of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps
homeward.
AS he approached the village he met
number of people, but none whom he
knew, which some what surprised him, for
he had thought himself acquainted with
every one 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 sur
prise, 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 establishment, he found his
beard had grown foot long
He had now entered the skirts of the vii
lage. 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 IN old acquain-
tance, 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
everything was strange. His
mind now misgave him; he began to Coubt
whether both he and the world around him
were not bewitched. Surely this was his
native village, which he had left but tile
day before. There stood the Kaatskill
mountains-there ran the silver Hudson at
distance-there was every hill and dale
precisely as it. had always been. Rip was
sorely perplexed. "That flagon last
night" thought he, "has added my poor
head sadly!'
1t was with some difficulty that he found
the way to his own house, which he APP
preached with silent awe, expecting every
moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame
Van Wrinkle. He found the house gone to
decay-the roof fallen in, the windows
shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A
half starved dog that looked like Wolf was
skulking about it. Rip calle him by
name but the cur snarled showed his
teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind
cnt indeed. my very doy," 81 he'd poor
Rip. "has forgotten me ~
He entered the house, which, to tell the
truth, Dame Van Winklo had always kept