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Updated: June 2, 2025
Down there was life, incessant, varied, restless, intricate, many-coloured down there was history, the highway of ancient voyagers since the days of Hendrik Hudson, the hunting-ground of Indian tribes, the scenes of massacre and battle, the last camp of the Army of the Revolution, the Head-quarters of Washington down there were the homes of legend and poetry, the dreamlike hills of Rip van Winkle's sleep, the cliffs and caves haunted by the Culprit Fay, the solitudes traversed by the Spy all outspread before us, and visible as in a Claude Lorraine glass, in the tranquil lucidity of distance.
The contrast of the boys' faces would have given infinite amusement to a looker-on the one so solemn and big with mighty purpose, the other radiant and bubbling over with fun. "Do you know, old fellow, I've been thinking it over a good deal," began Tom again. "Oh yes, I know fagging you are thinking of. Hang it all! But listen here, Tom here's fun. Mr. Winkle's horse "
Perchance, thought I, the pace region in a canoe may be in its centre; so I got along on my knees into the centre to experiment. Bitter failure; the canoe took to sidling down river broadside on, like Mr. Winkle's horse. Shouts of laughter from the bank.
'You don't mean to say you weren't down upon me? said Mr. Bob Sawyer, shaking Mr. Winkle's hand with friendly warmth. 'Upon my word I was not, replied Mr. Winkle, returning his pressure. 'I wonder you didn't see the name, said Bob Sawyer, calling his friend's attention to the outer door, on which, in the same white paint, were traced the words 'Sawyer, late Nockemorf.
Benjamin Allen, somewhat reproachfully. Arabella gracefully held out her hand, in acknowledgment of Bob Sawyer's presence. A thrill of hatred struck to Mr. Winkle's heart, as Bob Sawyer inflicted on the proffered hand a perceptible squeeze. 'Ben, dear! said Arabella, blushing; 'have have you been introduced to Mr. Winkle?
Winkle's visit to his old friend, was a well-known and frequented place of call at the time. It was situated actually in Carter Lane, and although the present house is more in keeping with modern methods, there still remains a portion of the old building. The "Spaniards," Hampstead Heath, figures more prominently in the book than any of the foregoing, and has a story of its own to tell.
Winkle's magnanimity and condescension; and the two belligerents parted for the night, with many protestations of eternal friendship. About half-past twelve o'clock, when Mr.
On another occasion we walked from Maidstone to Rochester on pilgrimage to the inn where Alfred Jingle borrowed Mr. Winkle's coat to attend the Assembly, when he made love to the buxom widow. War had just been declared between Britain and Germany, and soldiers guarded the roads above the town. At a tea-room in the outskirts army officers ate at a neighboring table.
When we had no longer excuse for resting, I invented the palpable subterfuge of measuring the altitude of the spot, since the few clumps of low, wide-boughed pines near by were the highest living trees. So we lay longer with less and less will to rise, and when resolution called us to our feet the getting up was sorely like Rip Van Winkle's in the third act.
Winkle's lips, Mr. Phunky sat down, and Serjeant Snubbin rather hastily told him he might leave the box, which Mr. Winkle prepared to do with great readiness, when Serjeant Buzfuz stopped him. 'Stay, Mr.
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