rip van winkle-第2章

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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　mother's　heels；

equipped　in　a　pair　of　his　father's　cast…off　galligaskins；　which　he　had

much　ado　to　hold　up　with　one　hand；　as　a　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　a　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；　and　the　ruin　he　was　bringing　on　his　family。　Morning；

noon；　and　night；　her　tongue　was　incessantly　going；　and　every　thing

he　said　or　did　was　sure　to　produce　a　torrent　of　household　eloquence。

Rip　had　but　one　way　of　replying　to　all　lectures　of　the　kind；　and　that；

by　frequent　use；　had　grown　into　a　habit。　He　shrugged　his　shoulders；

shook　his　head；　cast　up　his　eyes；　but　said　nothing。　This；　however；

always　provoked　a　fresh　volley　from　his　wife；　so　that　he　was　fain　to

draw　off　his　forces；　and　take　to　the　outside　of　the　house…　the　only

side　which；　in　truth；　belongs　to　a　hen…pecked　husband。

　　Rip's　sole　domestic　adherent　was　his　dog　Wolf；　who　was　as　much

hen…pecked　as　his　master；　for　Dame　Van　Winkle　regarded　them　as

companions　in　idleness；　and　even　looked　upon　Wolf　with　an　evil　eye；　as

the　cause　of　his　master'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　scoured　the　woods…　but　what　courage　can　withstand　the

ever…during　and　all…besetting　terrors　of　a　woman's　tongue？　The

moment　Wolf　entered　the　house　his　crest　fell；　his　tail　drooped　to

the　ground；　or　curled　between　his　legs；　he　sneaked　about　with　a

gallows　air；　casting　many　a　sidelong　glance　at　Dame　Van　Winkle；　and　at

the　least　flourish　of　a　broomstick　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；　a　tart　temper　never　mellows　with　age；　and　a　sharp　tongue　is

the　only　edged　tool　that　grows　keener　with　constant　use。　For　a　long

while　he　used　to　console　himself；　when　driven　from　home；　by

frequenting　a　kind　of　perpetual　club　of　the　sages；　philosophers；　and

other　idle　personages　of　the　village；　which　held　its　sessions　on　a

bench　before　a　small　inn；　designated　by　a　rubicund　portrait　of　His

Majesty　George　the　Third。　Here　they　used　to　sit　in　the　shade　through　a

long　lazy　summer's　day；　talking　listlessly　over　village　gossip；　or

telling　endless　sleepy　stories　about　nothing。　But　it　would　have　been

worth　any　statesman's　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；　a　dapper　learned　little　man；　who　was　not　to　be　daunted

by　the　most　gigantic　word　in　the　dictionary；　and　how　sagely　they　would

deliberate　upon　public　events　some　months　after　they　had　taken　place。

　　The　opinions　of　this　junto　were　completely　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　a　large　tree；

so　that　the　neighbors　could　tell　the　hour　by　his　movements　as

accurately　as　by　a　sun…dial。　It　is　true　he　was　rarely　heard　to

speak；　but　smoked　his　pipe　incessantly。　His　adherents；　however　（for

every　great　man　has　his　adherents）；　perfectly　understood　him；　and　knew

how　to　gather　his　opinions。　When　any　thing　that　was　read　or　related

displeased　him；　he　was　observed　to　smoke　his　pipe　vehemently；　and　to

send　forth　short；　frequent　and　angry　puffs；　but　when　pleased；　he　would

inhale　the　smoke　slowly　and　tranquilly；　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　approbation。

　　From　even　this　stronghold　the　unlucky　Rip　was　at　length　routed　by

his　termagant　wife；　who　would　suddenly　break　in　upon　the

tranquillity　of　the　assemblage　and　call　the　members　all　to　naught；　nor

was　that　august　personage；　Nicholas　Vedder　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　his

wife；　was　to　take　gun　in　hand　and　stroll　away　into　the　woods。　Here

he　would　sometimes　seat　himself　at　the　foot　of　a　tree；　and　share　the

contents　of　his　wallet　with　Wolf；　with　whom　he　sympathized　as　a

fellow…sufferer　in　persecution。　〃Poor　Wolf；〃　he　would　say；　〃thy

mistress　leads　thee　a　dog's　life　of　it；　but　never　mind；　my　lad；　whilst

I　live　thou　shalt　never　want　a　friend　to　stand　by　thee！〃　Wolf　would

wag　his　tail；　look　wistfully　in　his　master's　face；　and　if　dogs　can

feel　pity　I　verily　believe　he　reciprocated　the　sentiment　with　all

his　heart。

　　In　a　long　ramble　of　the　kind　on　a　fine　autumnal　day；　Rip　had

unconsciously　scrambled　to　one　of　the　highest　parts　of　the　Kaatskill

mountains。　He　was　after　his　favorite　sport　of　squirrel　shooting；　and

the　still　solitudes　had　echoed　and　re…echoed　with　the　reports　of　his

gun。　Panting　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　a

distance　the　lordly　Hudson；　far；　far　below　him；　moving　on　its　silent

but　majestic　course；　with　the　reflection　of　a　purple　cloud；　or　the

sail　of　a　lagging　bark；　here　and　there　sleeping　on　its　glassy　bosom；

and　at　last　losing　itself　in　the　blue　highlands。

　　On　the　other　side　he　looked　down　into　a　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　advancing；　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　a　distance；

hallooing；　〃Rip　Van　Winkle！　Rip　Van　Winkle！〃　He　looked　round；　but

could　see　nothing　but　a　crow　winging　its　solitary　flight　across　the

mountain。　He　thought　his　fancy　must　have　deceived　him；　and　turned

again　to　descend；　when　he　heard　the　same　cry　ring　through　the　still

evening　air；　〃Rip　Van　Winkle！　Rip　Van　Winkle！〃…　at　the　same　time

Wolf　bristled　up　his　back；　and　giving　a　low　growl；　skulked　to　his

master's　side；　looking　fearfully　down　into　the　glen。　Rip　now　felt　a

vague　apprehension　stealing　over　him；　he　looked　anxiously　in　the

same　direction；　and　perceived　a　strange　figure　slowly　toiling　up　the

rocks；　and　bending　under　the　weight　of　something　he　carried　on　his

back。　He　was　surprised　to　see　any　human　being　in　this　lonely　and

unfrequented　place；　but　supposing　it　to　be　some　one　of　the

neighborhood　in　need　of　his　assistance；　he　hastened　down　to　yield　it。

　　On　nearer　approach　he　was　still　more　surprised　at　the　singularity　of

the　stranger's　appearance。　He　was　a　short　square…built　old　fellow；

with　thick　bushy　hair；　and　a　grizzled　beard。　His　dress　was　of　the

antique　Dutch　fashion…　a　cloth　jerkin　strapped　round　the　waist…

several　pair　of　breeches；　the　outer　one　of　ample　volume；　decorated

with　rows　of　buttons　down　the　sides；　and　bunches　at