The Arizona sentinel., 1886-02-20
RIP VAN TWINKLE.
Not Irving's, But the Original, Ori-
 ental Rip"

It is sometimes difficult to determine the real origin of many of the best sto- ries that we are accustomed to read in our story books. Any of you who have tried to trace to their source anecdotes that you have heard, have doubtless found that they have been told oftener than once, and that at each telling they differed in essential particulars.
 A long time ago Solomon announced that there was nothing new under the sum-" Some of our best stories are only the reproductions of an ancient historical legend or an old-time myth. Many of these can be traced back to very ancient times, and have passed through many transformations before they came to us. Originally put in form by some dark bearded, turban-crowned story teller of the Orient, it was seized upon by the fanciful and beauty-loving Greeks. From them it was stolen by the Romans, who plundered literature as they did provinces. During the middle ages the Anglo-Saxon and Norman monks, for lack of other employment, and feeling sadly in need of something to do, shut up as they were, in their gloomy mon- asteries, took the old stories from their Latin books, and rewrote them again. These, in turn, became the source from which our best modern writers have drawn some of their most pleasing sto- ries.
 Most of you have, doubtless, read Washington Irving's story of Rip Van Wrinkle. You are familiar with every character and incident of the tale-the convivial Rip prone to over indulgence at his beloved cups, the elfin necroman- cers, the sleep of twenty years and the return and confusion of the unconscious sleeper at the change he witnessed-an portrayed as Irving alone could do it. Yet this is but one of the many legends which genius has rescued from oblivion, and reclothing in fresher garb, handed down to posterity. The story comes from the Orient, and is as interesting as any of the wonderful Arabian Nights. Its hero can claim equal rank with Aladdin, Camaralzaman, Sinbad, or any of the other old worthies whose exper- fences are recorded in that magnificent Eastern story book. In Irving's story it is a party of hobgoblins who perform the office of entertainment, and the vic- tim is good-natured Dutchman, who is overcome by the potent influence of the enchanted gin. The original is rather more pleasing story upon the whole, although the end is as pathetic as that of its modern counterpart. No fiagon of charmed stimlant has part in tine story, and the funny little Dutch necromancefs are left out. Instead beautiful fairy plays the part of en- chantress, and little golden casket is the fatal gift by which the finale is brought about.
 Mahmoud was handsome young fish erman, who spread his nets and rowed bis boat on the silver tide of the Euphrates where the towers of Bassorah overlook the deep. He was as good natured and industrious as he was handsome, work ing hard early and late, and always sing ing at his toll. His little stall in Bass0- rah was kept we'll stocked with his finny merchandise, and he found ready pa- trons, for his pleasant face and cheerful words quite won the hearts of old and young in the seaport town. The young man did most of his fishing in the night, for the shop on the street required his presence during the day. But of this he did not complain, for his seines were always drawn in full, and he had need of only little sleep. Mahmoud Ben Ali was prosperous and contented man.
 One night as he was toiling at his nets he was summoned to the shore by sev- eral loud cries for help. Fastening in the direction of the sounds he came to where two brutal fishermen were drag ging an old woman toward one of the huts outside of the city walls. She was struggling manfully to resist them, but their united strength was too much for her.
 Why do ye do this, my brethrenp" asked Mahmoud, calmly, as he put him. self in their way. "Doth not the mas ter'S book say, we shall respect those who hath gray hair?''
 ''She is a witch,'' cried one of the men, ''she hath bewitched our nets and driven the fish away. Take that, good mother, and tomorrow ye shall go before the Cadi; then we shall see what will become of your sorceries." With that he struck her with his sandal, and with his companions help continued to drag her along.
 Help me, young sir,'' cried the woman to Mahmoud, 'help me, and Allah will reward thee"
 Her imploring voice and his natural gallantry prevailed over any thought of danger, and he rushed upon her as- saiiants.
 ''Ye do wrong to beat a woman," he said, "snd I will see that justice is