The Cecil Whig., 1873-10-25


Whoever has made voyage up the
Hudson must remember the kaatskill
mountains. They are dismembered
branch of the great Appalachian family,
and are seen away to the west of the river,
swelling up to 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 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 gray vapors
about their SUBMITS, which, in the last
rays of the setting sun, will glow and light
up like crown of glory.
At the foot of these fairy mountains, the
voyager may have deserted the light smoke
curling up from village, whose shingle
roofs CLEAN among the trees, just where
the blue tints of the upland melt away
into the fresh green of the nearer land
scape. 1t is little village, of great an
tiquity, 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 Stuy.
vesant, may he rest in peace y and there
were some of the houses of the original
settlers standing within a few years, built
of small yellow bricks brought from Hol-
land, having latticed windows and gable
fronts, surmounted with weathercocks.
In that same village, and in one Of these
very houses (Which, to tell the precise
truth, was sadly time-worn and weather.
beaten), there lived, many years since,
while the country was yet province of
Great Britain, a simple, good-natured fel-
low, of the name of Rip Van Winkle.-
He was descendant of the Van Wrinkles
who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous
days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompani-
ed him to the siege of Fort Christina. He
inherited however, but little of the martial
character of his ancestors. l have observ-
ed that he was simple, good-natured man;
he was, moreover, kind neighbor, and an
obedient, henpecked husband. Indeed, to
the latter circumstance might be owing
that meekness of spirit which gained him
such universal popularity; for those men
are most inf fp 10 nbSeuuiOus and copci1i-
ating abroad, who are under the discipline
of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubt
less, are rendered plant and malleable in
the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation;
mons in the world for teaching the virtues
of patience and long suffering. A termag-
nant wife may, therefore, in some respects,
be considered a tolerable blessing; and if
so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed.
Certain il is, that lie was 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 talked those matters
over in their evening gossipings, to lay all
the blame on Dame Van Wrinkle. 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 lodging about the village, he was
surrounded by a troop of them, hanging
on his skirts, clambering on his back. and
playing thousand tricks on him with i'm
punity; and not a dog would bark at him
throughout the neighborhood.
The great error in Rips composition was
an insuperable aversion to all kinds of
profitable labor. 1t could not be from the
want of assiduity or perseverance; for he
would sit on wet rock, with rod as long
and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all
day without murmur, even though he
should not be encouraged by a single nib
BILE. He would carry fowling- piece on
his shoulder for hours together, trudging
through woods and swamps, and up hill
and down dale, to shoot few squirrels or
wild pigeons. lie would never refuse to
assist nelghbor even in the toughest toll,
and was foremost man at all country
frolics for husking Indian corn, Or building
stone fences; the women of the village,
too, used to employ him to run their er-
rands, and to do such little odd jobs as
their less obliging husbands would not do
for them. In 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, ho found it impossible.
In fact. he declared it was of no use to
! work on his farm; it was the most pesti-
lent 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 60 astray, or get
| among the cabbages; weeds were sure to
grow quicker in his fields than anywhere
else; the rain always made point of set
ting in just as he had some outdoor work
to do; SO that though his patrimonial es,
tate had dwindled away under his manage.
ment, acre by acre, until there was little
more left than mere patch of Indian corn
and potatoes, yet it was the worst condi-
toned farm in the neighborhood.
His children, too, were as ragged and
wild as if they belonged 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 colt at
his mothers heels, equipped in pair OF
his fathers cast off galligaskins, which he
had much ado to hold up with one hand as
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 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,