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impression on him; but there was one species of despotism under

which he had long groaned; and that was… petticoat government。 Happily

that was at an end; he had got his neck out of the yoke of

matrimony; and could go in and out whenever he pleased; without

dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle。 Whenever her name was

mentioned; however; he shook his head; shrugged his shoulders; and

cast up his eyes; which might pass either for an expression of

resignation to his fate; or joy at his deliverance。

  He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr。

Doolittle's hotel。 He was observed; at first; to vary on some points

every time he told it; which was; doubtless; owing to his having so

recently awaked。 It at last settled down precisely to the tale I

have related; and not a man; woman; or child in the neighborhood;

but knew it by heart。 Some always pretended to doubt the reality of

it; and insisted that Rip had been out of his head; and that this

was one point on which he always remained flighty。 The old Dutch

inhabitants; however; almost universally gave it full credit。 Even

to this day they never hear a thunderstorm of a summer afternoon about

the Kaatskill; but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at

their game of nine…pins; and it is a common wish of all hen…pecked

husbands in the neighborhood; when life hangs heavy on their hands;

that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's

flagon。



                          NOTE。



  The foregoing Tale; one would suspect; had been suggested to Mr。

Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the Emperor

Frederick der Rothbart; and the Kyffhauser mountain: the subjoined

note; however; which he had appended to the tale; shows that it is

an absolute fact; narrated with his usual fidelity:

  〃The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many; but

nevertheless I give it my full belief; for I know the vicinity of

our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to marvellous

events and appearances。 Indeed; I have heard many stranger stories

than this; in the villages along the Hudson; all of which were too

well authenticated to admit of a doubt。 I have even talked with Rip

Van Winkle myself; who; when last I saw him; was a very venerable

old man; and so perfectly rational and consistent on every other

point; that I think no conscientious person could refuse to take

this into the bargain; nay; I have seen a certificate on the subject

taken before a country justice and signed with a cross; in the

justice's own handwriting。 The story; therefore; is beyond the

possibility of doubt。

                                                               D。 K。〃



                        POSTSCRIPT。



  The following are travelling notes from a memorandum…book of Mr。

Knickerbocker:

  The Kaatsberg; or Catskill Mountains; have always been a region full

of fable。 The Indians considered them the abode of spirits; who

influenced the weather; spreading sunshine or clouds over the

landscape; and sending good or bad hunting seasons。 They were ruled by

an old squaw spirit; said to be their mother。 She dwelt on the highest

peak of the Catskills; and had charge of the doors of day and night to

open and shut them at the proper hour。 She hung up the new moons in

the skies; and cut up the old ones into stars。 In times of drought; if

properly propitiated; she would spin light summer clouds out of

cobwebs and morning dew; and send them off from the crest of the

mountain; flake after flake; like flakes of carded cotton; to float in

the air; until; dissolved by the heat of the sun; they would fall in

gentle showers; causing the grass to spring; the fruits to ripen;

and the corn to grow an inch an hour。 If displeased; however; she

would brew up clouds black as ink; sitting in the midst of them like a

bottle…bellied spider in the midst of its web; and when these clouds

broke; wo betide the valleys!

  In old times; say the Indian traditions; there was a kind of Manitou

or Spirit; who kept about the wildest recesses of the Catskill

Mountains; and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking all kinds of

evils and vexations upon the red men。 Sometimes he would assume the

form of a bear; a panther; or a deer; lead the bewildered hunter a

weary chase through tangled forests and among ragged rocks; and then

spring off with a loud ho! ho! leaving him aghast on the brink of a

beetling precipice or raging torrent。

  The favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown。 It is a great

rock or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains; and; from the

flowering vines which clamber about it; and the wild flowers which

abound in its neighborhood; is known by the name of Garden Rock。

Near the foot of it is a small lake; the haunt of the solitary

bittern; with water…snakes basking in the sun on the leaves of the

pond…lilies which lie on the surface。 This place was held in great awe

by the Indians; insomuch that the boldest hunter would not pursue

his game within its precincts。 Once upon a time; however; a hunter who

had lost his way; penetrated to the garden rock; where he beheld a

number of gourds placed in the crotches of trees。 One of these he

seized and made off with it; but in the hurry of his retreat he let it

fall among the rocks; when a great stream gushed forth; which washed

him away and swept him down precipices; where he was dashed to pieces;

and the stream made its way to the Hudson; and continues to flow to

the present day; being the identical stream known by the name of the

Kaaters…kill。





                        THE END




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