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Updated: May 3, 2025
Berenice smiled. "He is certainly a very self-centred person," she remarked; "but do you know, I am really a little curious to know how you succeeded in frightening him so thoroughly." "I had a fright myself," Mannering said. "I was made to feel for an hour or so like a Rip van Winkle with the cobwebs hanging about me Rip van Winkle looking out upon a new world!"
Winkle advanced, and levelled his gun. Mr. Pickwick and his friends cowered involuntarily to escape damage from the heavy fall of rooks, which they felt quite certain would be occasioned by the devastating barrel of their friend. There was a solemn pause a shout a flapping of wings a faint click. 'Hollo! said the old gentleman. 'Won't it go? inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'Missed fire, said Mr.
Courtney Van Winkle threshed out the amazing situation, and in the mists of the Maine coast, the flabbergasted father of the three young men who fared forth to make men of themselves agonised over the result of their efforts.
Winkle was maltreated so severely that the blood streamed from his nose; this would not now be tolerated. When Jingle affronted the great man by calling his friend "Tuppy," Mr. Pickwick, we are told, "hurled the inkstand madly forward and followed it up himself."
Then like a flash came that wonderful Jeffersonian change of facial expression, and as the white head drops upon the arms stretched before him on the table he says: "Well, she led me a hard life, a hard life, but she was the wife of my bosom, she was meine frau!" I did not see the revised, or rather the newly-created and written, Rip Van Winkle until Mr.
But they have in mind the Rip Van Winkle of Jefferson and Boucicault, not the rather attenuated story of Irving, which as far as the twenty years of sleep went was borrowed from an old German legend. Mark Twain and Bret Harte, however, will always be bracketed with Washington Irving. Of the three I incline to the opinion that Mark Twain did the broadest and strongest work.
Dame Van Winkle, the children who hung around Rip, his own children, his dog, the social club at the inn with the portrait of George the Third, Van Bummel, and Nicholas Vedder, all had to be mentioned before Rip began the ascent of the mountain. Otherwise, when he returned, we should have had no means of measuring the swift passage of time during his sleep.
The clearing was long and slender, such a glade through the trees as the alley of the mountain bowlers which Rip Van Winkle found in the Catskills only the shooting-range was longer. A hundred and fifty yards were needed for one of the contests. This aisle had been cut through a forest of gray beech and brown oaks.
'Evidently a traveller in many countries, and a close observer of men and things, said Mr. Pickwick. 'I should like to see his poem, said Mr. Snodgrass. 'I should like to have seen that dog, said Mr. Winkle. Mr. Tupman said nothing; but he thought of Donna Christina, the stomach pump, and the fountain; and his eyes filled with tears.
Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, "what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village?"
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