The Cecil Whig., 1873-10-25

torrent. AS they assembled, Kip every now
and then heard long, rolling peals, like
distant thunder, that seemed to issue out
of deep ravine, or rather cleft, between
lofty rocks, toward which their rugged
path conducted. He paused for an instant,
but supposing it to be the muttering of
one of those transient thunder showers
which often take place in mountain heights,
he proceeded. Passing through the ravine,
they came to hollow, like a small amphi-
theatre, surrounded by perpendicular pre-
cipices over the Drinks of which impend-
ing trees shot their branches, SO that you
only caught glimpses Of the azure sky and
the bright evening cloud. During the
the whole time Rip and his companion had
labored on in silence; for though the for
mer marvelled greatly what could be the
object of carrying keg of liquor up this
wild mountain, yet there was something
strange and incomprehensible about the
unknown, that inspired awe and checked
familiarity.
On entering the amphitheatre, new OBJ
jects of wonder presented themselves. On
level spot in the centre was company Of
odd-looking personages playing at nine
pins. They were dressed in quaint, out
landish fashion; some wore short doublets,
others jenkins, with long knives in their
belts, and most of them had enormous
breeches, of similar style with that of the
o. vic
one had large beard, broad face, and
small piggish eyes; the face of another
seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was
surmounted by white sugar-loaf hat, set
off with little red cocks tail They all
had boards, of various shapes and colors
There was one who seemed to be the COM
mander. He was a stout old gentlemen,
with weather beaten countenance; he
wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hang
er, high crowned hat and feather, red
stockin ings. and high-h heeled shoes, with
roses in them. The whole group reminded
Rip Of the figures in an old Flemish paint
ing, in the parlor of Dominic Van Shaick,
the village parson, and which had been
brought over from Holland at the time Of
the settlement
What seemed particularly odd to Rip
was, that though these folks were evident
ly amusing themselves, yet they maintain
ed the gravest faces, the most mysterious
silence, and were, withal, the most melan-
choly party of pleasure he had ever wit
messed. Nothing interrupted the stiffness
of the scene but the noise of the balls,
which, whenever they were rolled, echoed
along the mountains like rumbling peals of
thunder.
AS Rip and his companion approached
them, they suddenly desisted from their
play, and stared at him with such fixed,
statue-like gaze, and such strange uncouth,
lack -lustre countenances, that his heart
turned within him, and his knees smote
together. His companion now emptied
the contents of the keg into large fagons,
and made signs to him to wait upon the
company. He obeyed with fear and tremb-
ling; they quaffed the liquor in profound
silence, and then returned to their game
BY degrees Rips awe and apprehension
subsidized. He even ventured, when no eye
was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage,
which he found had much of the flavor of
excellent Hollands. He was naturally a
thirsty SOUL and was soon tempted to re-
peat the draught. One taste provoked
another; and he reiterated his visits to the
flagon so often that at length his senses
were overpowered, his eyes swan in his
head, his head gradually declined, and he
fell into deep sleep.
On waking, he found himself on the
green knoll whence he had first seen the
old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes
it was bright sunny morning. The
birds were hopping and twittering among
the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling
aloft, and breasting the pure mountain
breeze. "Surely," thought Rip, 81 have
not slept here all night" He recalled the
occurrences before he fell asleep. The
strange man with a keg of liqucr-the
mountain ravine-the wild retreat among
the rocks-the woe begone party at nine
pins-the flagon-" Oh! that fagon that
wicked flagon !" thought Rip" what ex-
cuse shall make to Dame Van Winkle 9'
He looked round for his gun, but in place
of the clean, well-oiled fowling- piece, he
found an old firelock lying by him, the
barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling
Off and the stock worm-eaten. lie now
suspected that the grave ROSTERS of the
mountain had put trick upon him, and,
having dosed him with liquor, had robbed
him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappear
ed, but he might have strayed away after
a squirrel or partridge. He whistled after
him, and shouted his name, but all in vain;
the echoes repeated his whistle and shout,
but no dog was to be seen.
CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.