The Cecil Whig., 1873-10-25

looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the
cause of his m aster's going so often astray.
True it is, in all points of spirit befitting
an honorable dog, he was as courageous an
animal as ever secured the woods; but
what courage can withstand the ever-dur-
ing and all besetting terrors of woman's
tongue? The moment Wolf entered the
house his crest fell, his tail dropped to the
ground, or curled between his legs, he
sneaked about with a gallows air, casting
many sidelong glance at Dame Van Win
kle, and at the least flourish of a broom
stick 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; tart temper never mellows with age,
and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool
that grows keener with constant use.-
For long while he used to console him
self, when driven from home, by frequent
ing kind of perpetual club of the sages,
philosophers, and other idle personages Of
the village, which held it's sessions on a
bench before small inn, designated by a
rubicund portrait of His Majesty George
the Third. Here they used to sit in the
shade through long, lazy summers day,
talking listlessly over village gossip, or
telling endless sleepy stories about nothing.
But it would have been worth any states
mans money to have heard the profound
discussions that sometimes took place,
when by chance an old newspaper fell into
their hands from some passing traveller.
How solemnly they would listen to the
contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van
Bummel, the schoolmaster, dapper learn
ed little man, who was not to be daunted
by the most gigantic word in the diction-
ary; and how sagely they would deliberate
upon public events some months after they
had taken place.
The opinions of this junto were COM
pletely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, 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 large tree; so that the
neighbors could tell the hour by his move
ments as accurately as by sun-dial. 1t is
true he was rarely heard to speak, but
smoked his pipe necessarily. His adher-
ents, however (for every great man has his
adherents), perfectly understood him, and
knew how to gather his opinions When
anything that was read or related that dis
pleased him, he was observed to smoke his
pipe vehemently, and to send forth short,
frequent, and angry puffs; but when pleas
ed, he would inhale the smoke slowly and
TRANQUILITY, 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 in token of perfect approba-
tion.
From even this stronghold the unlucky
Rip was at length routed by his termag-
ant wife, who would suddenly break in
upon the tranquility of the assemblage
and call the members all to naught; nor
was that august parsonage, Nicholas We'd
der 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 clamor of
lis wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll
| away into the woods. Here he would
sometimes seat himself at the foot of
tree, and share the contents of his wallet
with Wolf with whom he sympathized as
fellow-sufferer in persecution. "Poor
Wolf" he would say, "thy mistress leads
thee dogs life of it; but never mind, my
lad, whilst live thou shalt never want a
friend to stand by thee ~ Wolf would
wag his tail, look wistfully in his masters
face; and if dogs can feel pity, verify be-
lieve he reciprocated the sentiment with
all his heart.
In long ramble of the kind on fine
autumnal day, Rip had unconsciously
scrambled to one of the highest parts of
tho Kaatskill mountains. He was after
his favorite sport Of squirrel shooting, and
the still soltudes had echoed and re echoed
with the reports of his gun. Painting 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 distance the lordly Hudson,
far, far below him, moving on its silent
but majestic course, with the reflection of
purple cloud, or the sail of tagging
bark, here and there sleeping on it's CLASSY
bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue
highlands.
On the other side he looked down into
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 advanc-
ing; 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 adistance, hallooing, Grip Van
Wrinkle. Rip Van Winkle ~ He looked
round, but could see nothing but crow
winging its solitary flight across the noun
tain. lie thought his fancy must have
deceived him, and turned again to descend,
when he heard the same cry ring through
the still evening air: Grip Van Winkle !!
Rip Van Winkle n'-at the same time
Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a
low srowl, skulked to his masters side,
looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip
now felt a vague apprehension stealing
over him; he looked anxiousy IN the same
direction, and perceived a strange figure
slowly toling up the rocks, and bending
under the weight of something he carried
on his back. lie was surprised to see any