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《瑞普·凡·温克尔Rip-Van-Winkle中英文对照与summary》由会员上传分享，免费在线阅读，更多相关内容在行业资料-天天文库。
作者简介:华盛顿·欧文（Washington Irving）(1789-1895), 美国浪漫主义作家,也是一个纯文学作家,他的写作态度是"writing for pleasure and to produce pleasure"。欧文的代表作有《见闻札记》（Sketch Book），这是第一部伟大的青少年读物，也是美国本土作家第一部成功的小说。由于欧文对美国文学的伟大贡献,他获得了“美国文学之父"的光荣称号。这篇短篇小说,《瑞普·凡·温克尔》便是摘自《见闻札记》。RipVanWinkleAPosthumousWritingofDiedrichKnickerbockerByWashingtonIrving（THEFOLLOWINGtalewasfoundamongthepapersofthelateDiedrichKnickerbocker，anoldgentlemanofNewYork，whowasverycuriousintheDutchhistoryoftheprovince，andthemannersofthedescendantsfromitsprimitivesettlers。Hishistoricalresearches，however，didnotliesomuchamongbooksasamongmen；fortheformerarelamentablyscantyonhisfavoritetopics；whereashefoundtheoldburghers,andstillmoretheirwives,richinthatlegendaryloresoinvaluabletotruehistory。Whenever,therefore，hehappeneduponagenuineDutchfamily,snuglyshutupinitslow-roofedfarmhouse,underaspreadingsycamore,helookeduponitasalittleclaspedvolumeofblack—letter,andstudieditwiththezealofabookworm.TheresultofalltheseresearcheswasahistoryoftheprovinceduringthereignoftheDutchgovernors，whichhepublishedsomeyearssince。Therehavebeenvariousopinionsastotheliterarycharacterofhiswork，and,totellthetruth,itisnotawhitbetterthanitshouldbe.Itschiefmeritisitsscrupulousaccuracy，whichindeedwasalittlequestionedonitsfirstappearance，buthassincebeencompletelyestablished；anditishowadmittedintoallhistoricalcollectionsasabookofunquestionableauthority。Theoldgentlemandiedshortlyafterthepublicationofhiswork,andnowthatheisdeadandgoneitcannotdomuchharmtohismemorytosaythathistimemighthavebeenmuchbetteremployedinweightierlabors.He，however,wasapttoridehishobbyinhisownway;andthoughitdidnowandthenkickupthedustalittleintheeyesofhisneighborsandgrievethespiritofsomefriends，forwhomhefeltthetruestdeferenceandaffection,yethiserrorsandfolliesareremembered“moreinsorrowthaninanger”;anditbeginstobesuspectedthatheneverintendedtoinjureoroffend。Buthoweverhismemorymaybeappreciatedbycritics,itisstillhelddearamongmanyfolkwhosegoodopinioniswellworthhaving；particularlybycertainbiscuitbakers,whohavegonesofarastoimprinthislikenessontheirNewYearcakes,andhavethusgivenhimachanceforimmortalityalmostequaltothebeingstampedonaWaterloomedaloraQueenAnne’sfarthing。）ByWoden,GodofSaxons，FromwhencecomesWensday,thatisWodensday,
1TruthisathingthateverIwillkeepUntothylkedayinwhichIcreepintoMysepulchre— CARTWRIGHT。WhoeverhasmadeavoyageuptheHudsonmustremembertheCatskillMountains.TheyareadismemberedbranchofthegreatAppalachianfamily,andareseenawaytothewestoftheriver,swellinguptoanobleheight，andlordingitoverthesurroundingcountry。Everychangeofseason,everychangeofweather,indeed,everyhouroftheday，producessomechangeinthemagicalhuesandshapesofthesemountains，andtheyareregardedbyallthegoodwives，farandnear,asperfectbarometers.Whentheweatherisfairandsettled，theyareclothedinblueandpurple,andprinttheirboldoutlinesonthecleareveningsky;butsometimes,whentherestofthelandscapeiscloudless,theywillgatherahoodofgrayvaporsabouttheirsummits,which，inthelastraysofthesettingsun,willglowandlightuplikeacrownofglory。Atthefootofthesefairymountainsthevoyagermayhavedescriedthelightsmokecurlingupfromavillagewhoseshingleroofsgleamamongthetrees，justwherethebluetintsoftheuplandmeltawayintothefreshgreenofthenearerlandscape.Itisalittlevillageofgreatantiquity,havingbeenfoundedbysomeoftheDutchcolonists,intheearlytimesoftheprovince，justaboutthebeginningofthegovernmentofthegoodPeterStuyvesant（mayherestinpeace!),andthereweresomeofthehousesoftheoriginalsettlersstandingwithinafewyears,withlatticewindows，gablefrontssurmountedwithweathercocks,andbuiltofsmallyellowbricksbroughtfromHolland。Inthatsamevillage，andinoneoftheseveryhouses（which，totelltheprecisetruth，wassadlytime—wornandweather-beaten),therelivedmanyyearssince，whilethecountrywasyetaprovinceofGreatBritain,asimple，good-naturedfellow，ofthenameofRipVanWinkle.HewasadescendantoftheVanWinkleswhofiguredsogallantlyinthechivalrousdaysofPeterStuyvesant,andaccompaniedhimtothesiegeofFortChristina。Heinherited,however,butlittleofthemartialcharacterofhisancestors。Ihaveobservedthathewasasimple,good-naturedman；hewas,moreover,akindneighborandanobedient，henpeckedhusband。Indeed，tothelattercircumstancemightbeowingthatmeeknessofspiritwhichgainedhimsuchuniversalpopularity;forthosemenaremostapttobeobsequiousandconciliatingabroadwhoareunderthedisciplineofshrewsathome。Theirtempers,doubtless,arerenderedpliantandmalleableinthefieryfurnaceofdomestictribulation，andacurtainlectureisworthallthesermonsintheworldforteachingthevirtuesofpatienceandlong—suffering.Atermagantwifemay,therefore,insomerespects，beconsideredatolerableblessing；andifso,RipVanWinklewasthriceblessed。Certainitisthathewasagreatfavoriteamongallthegoodwivesofthevillage,who，asusualwiththeamiablesex，tookhispartinallfamilysquabbles，andneverfailed，whenevertheytalkedthosemattersoverintheireveninggossipings,tolayalltheblameonDameVanWinkle。Thechildrenofthevillage,too，would
2shoutwithjoywheneverheapproached。Heassistedattheirsports，madetheirplaythings，taughtthemtoflykitesandshootmarbles,andtoldthemlongstoriesofghosts，witches,andIndians.Wheneverhewentdodgingaboutthevillage，hewassurroundedbyatroopofthem,hangingonhisskirts，clamberingonhisback，andplayingathousandtricksonhimwithimpunity;andnotadogwouldbarkathimthroughouttheneighborhood.ThegreaterrorinRip’scompositionwasaninsuperableaversiontoallkindsofprofitablelabor。Itcouldnotbefromthewantofassiduityorperseverance；forhewouldsitonawetrock，witharodaslongandheavyasaTartar’slance，andfishalldaywithoutamurmur,eventhoughheshouldnotbeencouragedbyasinglenibble。Hewouldcarryafowlingpieceonhisshoulder，forhourstogether，trudgingthroughwoodsandswamps,anduphillanddowndale，toshootafewsquirrelsorwildpigeons.Hewouldneverevenrefusetoassistaneighborintheroughesttoil，andwasaforemostmanatallcountryfrolicsforhuskingIndiancorn，orbuildingstonefences。Thewomenofthevillage,too,usedtoemployhimtoruntheirerrands,andtodosuchlittleoddjobsastheirlessobliginghusbandswouldnotdoforthem;inaword，Ripwasreadytoattendtoanybody'sbusinessbuthisown;butastodoingfamilyduty,andkeepinghisfarminorder,itwasimpossible. Infact，hedeclareditwasofnousetoworkonhisfarm；itwasthemostpestilentlittlepieceofgroundinthewholecountry;everythingaboutitwentwrong,andwouldgowrong,inspiteofhim。Hisfenceswerecontinuallyfallingtopieces;hiscowwouldeithergoastrayorgetamongthecabbages;weedsweresuretogrowquickerinhisfieldsthananywhereelse；therainalwaysmadeapointofsettinginjustashehadsomeoutdoorworktodo;sothatthoughhispatrimonialestatehaddwindledawayunderhismanagement，acrebyacre,untiltherewaslittlemoreleftthanamerepatchofIndiancornandpotatoes,yetitwastheworst—conditionedfarmintheneighborhood。Hischildren，too，wereasraggedandwildasiftheybelongedtonobody.HissonRip，anurchinbegotteninhisownlikeness，promisedtoinheritthehabits，withtheoldclothesofhisfather.Hewasgenerallyseentroopinglikeacoltathismother’sheels,equippedinapairofhisfather’scast-offgalligaskins,whichhehadmuchadotoholdupwithonehand，asafineladydoeshertraininbadweather。 RipVanWinkle,however，wasoneofthosehappymortals,offoolish，well-oileddispositions，whotaketheworldeasy,eatwhitebreadorbrown,whichevercanbegotwithleastthoughtortrouble,andwouldratherstarveonapennythanworkforapound。Iflefttohimself,hewouldhavewhistledlifeaway，inperfectcontentment;buthiswifekeptcontinuallydinninginhisearsabouthisidleness，hiscarelessness，andtheruinhewasbringingonhisfamily。Morning，noon,andnight，hertonguewasincessantlygoing,andeverythinghesaidordidwassuretoproduceatorrentofhouseholdeloquence.Riphadbutonewayofreplyingtoalllecturesofthekind,andthat,byfrequentuse,hadgrownintoahabit。Heshruggedhisshoulders,shookhishead,castuphiseyes,butsaidnothing。This，however,alwaysprovokedafreshvolleyfromhiswife，sothathewasfaintodrawoffhisforces,andtaketotheoutsideofthehouse—theonlysidewhich,intruth，
3belongstoahenpeckedhusband.Rip’ssoledomesticadherentwashisdogWolf,whowasasmuchhenpeckedashismaster；forDameVanWinkleregardedthemascompanionsinidleness，andevenlookeduponWolfwithanevileye,asthecauseofhismaster’ssooftengoingastray.Trueitis，inallpointsofspiritbefittinganhonorabledog，hewasascourageousananimalaseverscouredthewoods-butwhatcouragecanwithstandtheever—duringandall-besettingterrorsofawoman’stongue？ThemomentWolfenteredthehousehiscrestfell,histaildroopedtotheground,orcurledbetweenhislegs；hesneakedaboutwithagallowsair，castingmanyasidelongglanceatDameVanWinkle,andattheleastflourishofabroomstickorladlewouldflytothedoorwithyelpingprecipitation.TimesgrewworseandworsewithRipVanWinkleasyearsofmatrimonyrolledon；atarttempernevermellowswithage,andasharptongueistheonlyedgedtoolthatgrowskeenerbyconstantuse.Foralongwhileheusedtoconsolehimself,whendrivenfromhome,byfrequentingakindofperpetualclubofthesages,philosophers，andotheridlepersonagesofthevillage，whichhelditssessionsonabenchbeforeasmallinn，designatedbyarubicundportraitofhismajestyGeorgetheThird。Heretheyusedtositintheshade,ofalonglazysummer'sday，talkinglistlesslyovervillagegossip,ortellingendlesssleepystoriesaboutnothing.Butitwouldhavebeenworthanystatesman'smoneytohaveheardtheprofounddiscussionswhichsometimestookplace，whenbychanceanoldnewspaperfellintotheirhands，fromsomepassingtraveler.Howsolemnlytheywouldlistentothecontents,asdrawledoutbyDerrickVanBummel，theschoolmaster,adapper,learnedlittleman，whowasnottobedauntedbythemostgiganticwordinthedictionary；andhowsagelytheywoulddeliberateuponpubliceventssomemonthsaftertheyhadtakenplace。TheopinionsofthisjuntowerecompletelycontrolledbyNicholasVedder,apatriarchofthevillage,andlandlordoftheinn，atthedoorofwhichhetookhisseatfrommorningtillnight，justmovingsufficientlytoavoidthesun，andkeepintheshadeofalargetree；sothattheneighborscouldtellthehourbyhismovementsasaccuratelyasbyasun-dial。Itistrue,hewasrarelyheardtospeak,butsmokedhispipeincessantly.Hisadherents，however(foreverygreatmanhashisadherents）,perfectlyunderstoodhim,andknewhowtogatherhisopinions.Whenanythingthatwasreadorrelateddispleasedhim，hewasobservedtosmokehispipevehemently,andsendforthshort,frequent，andangrypuffs；butwhenpleased，hewouldinhalethesmokeslowlyandtranquilly，andemititinlightandplacidclouds,andsometimestakingthepipefromhismouth，andlettingthefragrantvaporcurlabouthisnose,wouldgravelynodhisheadintokenofperfectapprobation。FromeventhisstrongholdtheunluckyRipwasatlengthroutedbyhistermagantwife，whowouldsuddenlybreakinuponthetranquillityoftheassemblage,andcallthemembersalltonought；norwasthataugustpersonage,NicholasVedderhimself，sacredfromthedaringtongueofthisterriblevirago,whochargedhimoutrightwithencouragingherhusbandinhabitsofidleness.PoorRipwasatlastreducedalmosttodespair;andhisonlyalternative，to
4escapefromthelaborofthefarmandclamorofhiswife，wastotakeguninhandandstrollawayintothewoods.Herehewouldsometimesseathimselfatthefootofatree,andsharethecontentsofhiswalletwithWolf，withwhomhesympathizedasafellow-suffererinpersecution.“PoorWolf,”hewouldsay,“thymistressleadstheeadog’slifeofit;butnevermind,mylad，whileIlivethoushaltneverwantafriendtostandbythee!”Wolfwouldwaghistail，lookwistfullyinhismaster’sface,andifdogscanfeelpity,Iverilybelievehereciprocatedthesentimentwithallhisheart.Inalongrambleofthekindonafineautumnalday，RiphadunconsciouslyscrambledtooneofthehighestpartsoftheCatskillMountains。Hewasafterhisfavoritesportofsquirrelshooting,andthestillsolitudeshadechoedandreëchoedwiththereportsofhisgun。Pantingandfatigued，hethrewhimself,lateintheafternoon,onagreenknoll,coveredwithmountainherbage，thatcrownedthebrowofaprecipice。Fromanopeningbetweenthetreeshecouldoverlookallthelowercountryformanyamileofrichwoodland.HesawatadistancethelordlyHudson，far，farbelowhim，movingonitssilentbutmajesticcourse，thereflectionofapurplecloud,orthesailofalaggingbark，hereandtheresleepingonitsglassybosom，andatlastlosingitselfinthebluehighlands.Ontheothersidehelookeddownintoadeepmountainglen，wild,lonely,andshagged,thebottomfilledwithfragmentsfromtheimpendingcliffs,andscarcelylightedbythereflectedraysofthesettingsun.ForsometimeRiplaymusingonthisscene；eveningwasgraduallyadvancing;themountainsbegantothrowtheirlongblueshadowsoverthevalleys；hesawthatitwouldbedarklongbeforehecouldreachthevillage，andheheavedaheavysighwhenhethoughtofencounteringtheterrorsofDameVanWinkle。Ashewasabouttodescend，heheardavoicefromadistance,hallooing,“RipVanWinkle！RipVanWinkle!”Helookedaround,butcouldseenothingbutacrowwingingitssolitaryflightacrossthemountain。Hethoughthisfancymusthavedeceivedhim,andturnedagaintodescend，whenheheardthesamecryringthroughthestilleveningair:“RipVanWinkle！RipVanWinkle!"—atthesametimeWolfbristleduphisback,andgivingalowgrowl，skulkedtohismaster’sside，lookingfearfullydownintotheglen。Ripnowfeltavagueapprehensionstealingoverhim；helookedanxiouslyinthesamedirection，andperceivedastrangefigureslowlytoilinguptherocks,andbendingundertheweightofsomethinghecarriedonhisback。Hewassurprisedtoseeanyhumanbeinginthislonelyandunfrequentedplace,butsupposingittobesomeoneoftheneighborhoodinneedofassistance，hehasteneddowntoyieldit.Onnearerapproach,hewasstillmoresurprisedatthesingularityofthestranger'sappearance。Hewasashort,square-builtoldfellow，withthickbushyhair，andagrizzledbeard.HisdresswasoftheantiqueDutchfashion-aclothjerkinstrappedaroundthewaist—severalpairofbreeches，theouteroneofamplevolume,decoratedwithrowsofbuttonsdownthesides，andbunchesattheknees.Heboreonhisshouldersastoutkeg，thatseemedfullofliquor,andmadesignsforRiptoapproachandassisthimwiththeload。Thoughrathershyanddistrustfulofthisnewacquaintance,Ripcompliedwithhisusualalacrity,andmutuallyrelievingone
5another，theyclamberedupanarrowgully，apparentlythedrybedofamountaintorrent。Astheyascended,Ripeverynowandthenheardlongrollingpeals，likedistantthunder,thatseemedtoissueoutofadeepravine，orrathercleftbetweenloftyrocks,towardwhichtheirruggedpathconducted。Hepausedforaninstant,butsupposingittobethemutteringofoneofthosetransientthundershowerswhichoftentakeplaceinmountainheights,heproceeded.Passingthroughtheravine，theycametoahollow，likeasmallamphitheater，surroundedbyperpendicularprecipices,overthebrinksofwhichimpendingtreesshottheirbranches,sothatyouonlycaughtglimpsesoftheazureskyandthebrighteveningcloud.Duringthewholetime,Ripandhiscompanionhadlaboredoninsilence；forthoughtheformermarveledgreatlywhatcouldbetheobjectofcarryingakegofliquorupthiswildmountain,yettherewassomethingstrangeandincomprehensibleabouttheunknownthatinspiredaweandcheckedfamiliarity。Onenteringtheamphitheater，newobjectsofwonderpresentedthemselves.Onalevelspotinthecenterwasacompanyofodd-lookingpersonagesplayingatninepins.Theyweredressedinaquaint，outlandishfashion：someworeshortdoublets,othersjerkins,withlongknivesintheirbelts，andmosthadenormousbreeches,ofsimilarstylewiththatoftheguide’s.Theirvisages，too，werepeculiar：onehadalargehead，broadface,andsmall，piggisheyes;thefaceofanotherseemedtoconsistentirelyofnose，andwassurmountedbyawhitesugar—loafhatsetoffwithalittleredcock'stail。Theyallhadbeards,ofvariousshapesandcolors.Therewasonewhoseemedtobethecommander。Hewasastoutoldgentleman，withaweather—beatencountenance;heworealaceddoublet，broadbeltandhanger,high—crownedhatandfeather，redstockings，andhigh-heeledshoes,withrosesinthem.ThewholegroupremindedRipofthefiguresinanoldFlemishpainting,intheparlorofDominieVanSchaick,thevillageparson，andwhichhadbeenbroughtoverfromHollandatthetimeofthesettlement.WhatseemedparticularlyoddtoRip，wasthatthoughthesefolkswereevidentlyamusingthemselves,yettheymaintainedthegravestfaces,themostmysterioussilence,andwere，withal,themostmelancholypartyofpleasurehehadeverwitnessed。Nothinginterruptedthestillnessofthescenebutthenoiseoftheballs,which，whenevertheywererolled，echoedalongthemountainslikerumblingpealsofthunder.AsRipandhiscompanionapproachedthem,theysuddenlydesistedfromtheirplay,andstaredathimwithsuchfixedstatue—likegaze,andsuchstrange,uncouth,lack—lustercountenances,thathisheartturnedwithinhim,andhiskneessmotetogether.Hiscompanionnowemptiedthecontentsofthekegintolargeflagons,andmadesignstohimtowaituponthecompany。Heobeyedwithfearandtrembling;theyquaffedtheliquorinprofoundsilence，andthenreturnedtotheirgame。 Bydegrees,Rip’saweandapprehensionsubsided.Heevenventured，whennoeyewasfixeduponhim,totastethebeverage，whichhefoundhadmuchoftheflavorofexcellentHollands。Hewasnaturallyathirstysoul，andwassoontemptedtorepeatthedraught。Onetasteprovokedanother，andhereiteratedhisvisitstotheflagonsooften，thatatlengthhissenseswereoverpowered,hiseyesswaminhishead，his
6headgraduallydeclined,andhefellintoadeepsleep。Onawaking，hefoundhimselfonthegreenknollfromwhencehehadfirstseentheoldmanoftheglen。Herubbedhiseyes—itwasabrightsunnymorning.Thebirdswerehoppingandtwitteringamongthebushes，andtheeaglewaswheelingaloftandbreastingthepuremountainbreeze。“Surely，"thoughtRip,“Ihavenotslepthereallnight.”Herecalledtheoccurrencesbeforehefellasleep。Thestrangemanwithakegofliquor—themountainravine-thewildretreatamongtherocks—thewoe-begonepartyatninepins—theflagon—“Oh！thatflagon!thatwickedflagon!”thoughtRip—“whatexcuseshallImaketoDameVanWinkle？”Helookedroundforhisgun,butinplaceoftheclean，well-oiledfowlingpiece,hefoundanoldfirelocklyingbyhim,thebarrelincrustedwithrust，thelockfallingoff，andthestockworm—eaten.Henowsuspectedthatthegraveroystersofthemountainhadputatrickuponhim,andhavingdosedhimwithliquor，hadrobbedhimofhisgun.Wolf,too，haddisappeared,buthemighthavestrayedawayafterasquirrelorpartridge。Hewhistledafterhim，shoutedhisname,butallinvain;theechoesrepeatedhiswhistleandshout，butnodogwastobeseen.Hedeterminedtorevisitthesceneofthelastevening'sgambol，andifhemetwithanyoftheparty，todemandhisdogandgun。Asherosetowalk，hefoundhimselfstiffinthejoints，andwantinginhisusualactivity.“Thesemountainbedsdonotagreewithme，"thoughtRip,“andifthisfrolicshouldlaymeupwithafitoftherheumatism,IshallhaveablessedtimewithDameVanWinkle。”Withsomedifficultyhegotdownintotheglen；hefoundthegullyupwhichheandhiscompanionhadascendedtheprecedingevening；buttohisastonishmentamountainstreamwasnowfoamingdownit,leapingfromrocktorock，andfillingtheglenwithbabblingmurmurs。He,however，madeshifttoscrambleupitssides，workinghistoilsomewaythroughthicketsofbirch,sassafras，andwitch—hazel,andsometimestrippeduporentangledbythewildgrapevinesthattwistedtheircoilsandtendrilsfromtreetotree,andspreadakindofnetworkinhispath.Atlengthhereachedtowheretheravinehadopenedthroughthecliffstotheamphitheater;butnotracesofsuchopeningremained。Therockspresentedahigh,impenetrablewall,overwhichthetorrentcametumblinginasheetoffeatheryfoam,andfellintoabroad,deepbasin,blackfromtheshadowsofthesurroundingforest。Here,then,poorRipwasbroughttoastand.Heagaincalledandwhistledafterhisdog;hewasonlyansweredbythecawingofaflockofidlecrows，sportinghighinairaboutadrytreethatoverhungasunnyprecipice；andwho，secureintheirelevation,seemedtolookdownandscoffatthepoorman’sperplexities.Whatwastobedone？themorningwaspassingaway,andRipfeltfamishedforwantofhisbreakfast.Hegrievedtogiveuphisdogandgun;hedreadedtomeethiswife;butitwouldnotdotostarveamongthemountains。Heshookhishead，shoulderedtherustyfirelock，and,withaheartfulloftroubleandanxiety,turnedhisstepshomeward.Asheapproachedthevillage，hemetanumberofpeople,butnonewhomheknew，whichsomewhatsurprisedhim,forhehadthoughthimselfacquaintedwitheveryoneinthecountryround.Theirdress,too，wasofadifferentfashionfromthat
7towhichhewasaccustomed.Theyallstaredathimwithequalmarksofsurprise，andwhenevertheycasttheireyesuponhim，invariablystrokedtheirchins。TheconstantrecurrenceofthisgestureinducedRip，involuntarily,todothesame，when，tohisastonishment，hefoundhisbeardhadgrownafootlong！Hehadnowenteredtheskirtsofthevillage。Atroopofstrangechildrenranathisheels，hootingafterhim,andpointingathisgraybeard.Thedogs,too,noneofwhichherecognizedforhisoldacquaintances,barkedathimashepassed.Theveryvillagewasaltered:itwaslargerandmorepopulous。Therewererowsofhouseswhichhehadneverseenbefore，andthosewhichhadbeenhisfamiliarhauntshaddisappeared.Strangenameswereoverthedoors—strangefacesatthewindows—everythingwasstrange。Hismindnowbegantomisgivehim；hedoubtedwhetherbothheandtheworldaroundhimwerenotbewitched。Surelythiswashisnativevillage,whichhehadleftbutthedaybefore。TherestoodtheCatskillMountains—thereranthesilverHudsonatadistance—therewaseveryhillanddalepreciselyasithadalwaysbeen—Ripwassorelyperplexed—“Thatflagonlastnight,”thoughthe,“hasaddledmypoorheadsadly！”Itwaswithsomedifficultyhefoundthewaytohisownhouse，whichheapproachedwithsilentawe,expectingeverymomenttoheartheshrillvoiceofDameVanWinkle。Hefoundthehousegonetodecay-therooffallenin,thewindowsshattered，andthedoorsoffthehinges.Ahalf—starveddog,thatlookedlikeWolf,wasskulkingaboutit。Ripcalledhimbyname,butthecursnarled，showedhisteeth，andpassedon。Thiswasanunkindcutindeed—“Myverydog,”sighedpoorRip，“hasforgottenme!”Heenteredthehouse,which,totellthetruth,DameVanWinklehadalwayskeptinneatorder.Itwasempty，forlorn,andapparentlyabandoned.Thisdesolatenessovercameallhisconnubialfears—hecalledloudlyforhiswifeandchildren—thelonelychambersrungforamomentwithhisvoice，andthenallagainwassilence.Henowhurriedforth,andhastenedtohisoldresort，thelittlevillageinn—butittoowasgone.Alargericketywoodenbuildingstoodinitsplace，withgreatgapingwindows，someofthembroken，andmendedwitholdhatsandpetticoats,andoverthedoorwaspainted,“TheUnionHotel，byJonathanDoolittle.”InsteadofthegreattreewhichusedtoshelterthequietlittleDutchinnofyore,therenowwasrearedatallnakedpole，withsomethingonthetopthatlookedlikearednightcap,andfromitwasflutteringaflag,onwhichwasasingularassemblageofstarsandstripes—allthiswasstrangeandincomprehensible.Herecognizedonthesign,however，therubyfaceofKingGeorge，underwhichhehadsmokedsomanyapeacefulpipe,buteventhiswassingularlymetamorphosed。Theredcoatwaschangedforoneofblueandbuff，aswordwasstuckinthehandinsteadofascepter,theheadwasdecoratedwithacockedhat,andunderneathwaspaintedinlargecharacters,GENERALWASHINGTON。Therewas，asusual，acrowdoffolkaboutthedoor，butnonewhomRiprecollected。Theverycharacterofthepeopleseemedchanged.Therewasabusy,bustling，disputatioustoneaboutit，insteadoftheaccustomedphlegmanddrowsytranquillity.HelookedinvainforthesageNicholasVedder，withhisbroadface,
8doublechin,andfairlongpipe,utteringcloudsoftobaccosmokeinsteadofidlespeeches;orVanBummel，theschoolmaster，dolingforththecontentsofanancientnewspaper.Inplaceofthese，alean,bilious-lookingfellow，withhispocketsfullofhandbills,washaranguingvehementlyaboutrightsofcitizens—election—membersofCongress-liberty-Bunker’sHill—heroesof'76—andotherwords,thatwereaperfectBabylonishjargontothebewilderedVanWinkle。TheappearanceofRip，withhislonggrizzledbeard，hisrustyfowlingpiece，hisuncouthdress，andthearmyofwomenandchildrenthathadgatheredathisheels，soonattractedtheattentionofthetavernpoliticians.Theycrowdedaroundhim,eyinghimfromheadtofoot,withgreatcuriosity.Theoratorbustleduptohim,anddrawinghimpartlyaside,inquired“onwhichsidehevoted？”Ripstaredinvacantstupidity.Anothershortbutbusylittlefellowpulledhimbythearm，andraisingontiptoe，inquiredinhisear，“whetherhewasFederalorDemocrat。”Ripwasequallyatalosstocomprehendthequestion;whenaknowing,self-importantoldgentleman,inasharpcockedhat,madehiswaythroughthecrowd,puttingthemtotherightandleftwithhiselbowsashepassed，andplantinghimselfbeforeVanWinkle，withonearmakimbo,theotherrestingonhiscane,hiskeeneyesandsharphatpenetrating,asitwere，intohisverysoul，demanded，inanausteretone，“whatbroughthimtotheelectionwithagunonhisshoulder,andamobathisheels,andwhetherhemeanttobreedariotinthevillage？"“Alas！gentlemen，”criedRip,somewhatdismayed，“Iamapoorquietman，anativeoftheplace，andaloyalsubjectoftheking,Godblesshim!”Hereageneralshoutburstfromthebystanders—“ATory!aTory！aspy!arefugee！hustlehim！awaywithhim！"Itwaswithgreatdifficultythattheself-importantmaninthecockedhatrestoredorder；andhavingassumedatenfoldausterityofbrow，demandedagainoftheunknownculprit，whathecametherefor，andwhomhewasseeking.Thepoormanhumblyassuredhimthathemeantnoharm；butmerelycamethereinsearchofsomeofhisneighbors,whousedtokeepaboutthetavern.“Well-whoarethey？-namethem.”Ripbethoughthimselfamoment，andtheninquired，“Where’sNicholasVedder?"Therewassilenceforalittlewhile，whenanoldmanrepliedinathin,pipingvoice，“NicholasVedder？why,heisdeadandgonetheseeighteenyears!Therewasawoodentombstoneinthechurchyardthatusedtotellallabouthim，butthat'srottedandgone，too."“Where’sBromDutcher？”“Oh,hewentofftothearmyinthebeginningofthewar;somesayhewaskilledatthebattleofStonyPoint—otherssayhewasdrownedinasquall,atthefootofAntony’sNose。Idon’tknow—henevercamebackagain。"“Where’sVanBummel，theschoolmaster？”“Hewentofftothewars,too，wasagreatmilitiageneral，andisnowinCongress。"Rip’sheartdiedaway,athearingofthesesadchangesinhishomeandfriends,
9andfindinghimselfthusaloneintheworld.Everyanswerpuzzledhim,too，bytreatingofsuchenormouslapsesoftime，andofmatterswhichhecouldnotunderstand：war-Congress—StonyPoint！—hehadnocouragetoaskafteranymorefriends,butcriedoutindespair,“DoesnobodyhereknowRipVanWinkle?”“Oh,RipVanWinkle!"exclaimedtwoorthree，“Oh,tobesure!that’sRipVanWinkleyonder，leaningagainstthetree.”Riplooked,andbeheldaprecisecounterpartofhimself，ashewentupthemountain：apparentlyaslazy,andcertainlyasragged。Thepoorfellowwasnowcompletelyconfounded。Hedoubtedhisownidentity，andwhetherhewashimselforanotherman。Inthemidstofhisbewilderment,themaninthecockedhatdemandedwhohewas，andwhatwashisname?“Godknows，”exclaimedhe,athiswit’send;“I'mnotmyself—I'msomebodyelse—that’smeyonder—no—that'ssomebodyelse，gotintomyshoes-Iwasmyselflastnight,butIfellasleeponthemountain，andthey’vechangedmygun,andeverything’schanged，andI’mchanged,andIcan'ttellwhat’smyname，orwhoIam!"Thebystandersbegannowtolookateachother，nod,winksignificantly,andtaptheirfingersagainsttheirforeheads。Therewasawhisper,also,aboutsecuringthegun，andkeepingtheoldfellowfromdoingmischief；attheverysuggestionofwhich，theself—importantmaninthecockedhatretiredwithsomeprecipitation.Atthiscriticalmomentafresh，likelywomanpressedthroughthethrongtogetapeepatthegray-beardedman.Shehadachubbychildinherarms,which,frightenedathislooks,begantocry.“Hush,Rip,”criedshe,“hush,youlittlefool，theoldmanwon'thurtyou。”Thenameofthechild，theairofthemother,thetoneofhervoice,allawakenedatrainofrecollectionsinhismind.“Whatisyourname，mygoodwoman?”askedhe。“JudithGardenier.”“Andyourfather'sname？”“Ah，poorman，hisnamewasRipVanWinkle；it'stwentyyearssincehewentawayfromhomewithhisgun，andneverhasbeenheardofsince-hisdogcamehomewithouthim;butwhetherheshothimself,orwascarriedawaybytheIndians，nobodycantell。Iwasthenbutalittlegirl.” Riphadbutonequestionmoretoask;butheputitwithafalteringvoice:— “Where’syourmother？” “Oh,shetoohaddiedbutashorttimesince;shebrokeabloodvesselinafitofpassionataNewEnglandpeddler." Therewasadropofcomfort，atleast，inthisintelligence。Thehonestmancouldcontainhimselfnolonger。—Hecaughthisdaughterandherchildinhisarms。—“Iamyourfather！”criedhe-“YoungRipVanWinkleonce—oldRipVanWinklenow！-DoesnobodyknowpoorRipVanWinkle！” Allstoodamazed，untilanoldwoman,totteringoutfromamongthecrowd,putherhandtoherbrow,andpeeringunderitinhisfaceforamoment，exclaimed，“Sureenough!itisRipVanWinkle-itishimself。Welcomehomeagain，oldneighbor。—Why，wherehaveyoubeenthesetwentylongyears?"
10 Rip’sstorywassoontold，forthewholetwentyyearshadbeentohimbutasonenight.Theneighborsstaredwhentheyheardit；somewhereseentowinkateachother,andputtheirtonguesintheircheeks；andtheself—importantmaninthecockedhat,who,whenthealarmwasover，hadreturnedtothefield,screweddownthecornersofhismouth,andshookhishead—uponwhichtherewasageneralshakingoftheheadthroughouttheassemblage. Itwasdetermined,however，totaketheopinionofoldPeterVanderdonk,whowasseenslowlyadvancinguptheroad。Hewasadescendantofthehistorianofthatname，whowroteoneoftheearliestaccountsoftheprovince。Peterwasthemostancientinhabitantofthevillage，andwellversedinallthewonderfuleventsandtraditionsoftheneighborhood。HerecollectedRipatonce,andcorroboratedhisstoryinthemostsatisfactorymanner。Heassuredthecompanythatitwasafact,handeddownfromhisancestorthehistorian,thattheCatskillMountainshadalwaysbeenhauntedbystrangebeings。ThatitwasaffirmedthatthegreatHendrickHudson，thefirstdiscovereroftheriverandcountry，keptakindofvigilthereeverytwentyyears，withhiscrewoftheHalf-Moon,beingpermittedinthiswaytorevisitthescenesofhisenterprise，andkeepaguardianeyeupontheriver,andthegreatcitycalledbyhisname.ThathisfatherhadonceseenthemintheiroldDutchdressesplayingatninepinsinahollowofthemountain；andthathehimselfhadheard，onesummerafternoon，thesoundoftheirballs,likelongpealsofthunder. Tomakealongstoryshort,thecompanybrokeup,andreturnedtothemoreimportantconcernsoftheelection。Rip’sdaughtertookhimhometolivewithher；shehadasnug，well—furnishedhouse，andastoutcheeryfarmerforahusband，whomRiprecollectedforoneoftheurchinsthatusedtoclimbuponhisback.AstoRip'ssonandheir,whowasthedittoofhimself，seenleaningagainstthetree，hewasemployedtoworkonthefarm；butevincedanhereditarydispositiontoattendtoanythingelsebuthisbusiness。Ripnowresumedhisoldwalksandhabits；hesoonfoundmanyofhisformercronies，thoughallrathertheworseforthewearandtearoftime；andpreferredmakingfriendsamongtherisinggeneration,withwhomhesoongrewintogreatfavor. Havingnothingtodoathome,andbeingarrivedatthathappyagewhenamancandonothingwithimpunity，hetookhisplaceoncemoreonthebench,attheinndoor,andwasreverencedasoneofthepatriarchsofthevillage,andachronicleoftheoldtimes“beforethewar。”Itwassometimebeforehecouldgetintotheregulartrackofgossip,orcouldbemadetocomprehendthestrangeeventsthathadtakenplaceduringhistorpor。Howthattherehadbeenarevolutionarywar—thatthecountryhadthrownofftheyokeofoldEngland-andthat，insteadofbeingasubjectofhisMajesty,GeorgeIII.,hewasnowafreecitizenoftheUnitedStates.Rip，infact，wasnopolitician;thechangesofstatesandempiresmadebutlittleimpressiononhim;buttherewasonespeciesofdespotismunderwhichhehadlonggroaned，andthatwas-petticoatgovernment;happily,thatwasatanend;hehadgothisneckoutoftheyokeofmatrimony，andcouldgoinandoutwheneverhepleased,withoutdreadingthetyrannyofDameVanWinkle.Wheneverhernamewasmentioned,
11however，heshookhishead,shruggedhisshoulders,andcastuphiseyes；whichmightpasseitherforanexpressionofresignationtohisfate,orjoyathisdeliverance. HeusedtotellhisstorytoeverystrangerthatarrivedatDr.Doolittle’shotel。Hewasobserved，atfirst，tovaryonsomepointseverytimehetoldit，whichwas，doubtless,owingtohishavingsorecentlyawaked.ItatlastsettleddownpreciselytothetaleIhaverelated，andnotaman,woman,orchildintheneighborhoodbutknewitbyheart。Somealwayspretendedtodoubttherealityofit,andinsistedthatRiphadbeenoutofhishead，andthiswasonepointonwhichhealwaysremainedflighty.TheoldDutchinhabitants,however,almostuniversallygaveitfullcredit.Eventothisdaytheyneverhearathunder-stormofasummerafternoon，abouttheCatskills,buttheysayHendrickHudsonandhiscrewareattheirgameofninepins；anditisacommonwishofallhenpeckedhusbandsintheneighborhood，whenlifehangsheavyontheirhands,thattheymighthaveaquietingdraughtoutofRipVanWinkle’sflagon.瑞普—凡-温克尔卡兹吉尔出脉位于纽约州哈得逊河西边,山峰高耸人云,俯瞰着四周的山村.季节更替，阴晴转换，甚至旦夕间的时辰变幻，都会引来山容峰色午姿百态。所以山区周围的村民只要观看卡兹吉尔山脉就能猜出天气的变化。就在这些山脉下面，航行者可以看见缕缕青烟从一个古老的荷兰小山村袅袅升起。瑞普-凡-温克尔就在这个村里.许多年前，他就住在这里，那时这个国家还发球英国。瑞普—凡-温克尔是一个朴素单纯，性格温和的家伙。在荷兰决督统治时期，他的祖先曾英勇地与英国人战斗过.然而，瑞普的血液里没有多少祖先的军人性格。我已经说了，他是一个朴素单纯，性格温和的家伙。此外他还是一个善良的邻居，也是一个在老婆面前唯唯诺诺的丈夫。由于在家里被老婆管得太严所以他似乎养成了处处与人为善的习惯.因此，除了他老婆外，大这都对他评价很高。当然，他在村子里所有的良家妇女中很受欢迎。每当她们知道了凡—温克尔家吵架,她们总是认定瑞普是对的，而凡-温克尔夫人是错的。孩子们也一样,瑞普—凡—温克尔一来,他们总是欢叫起来。他总是望着他们玩耍，为他们做玩具,教他们怎么玩各种游戏，还给他们讲最精彩的故事.不管他去哪儿，他的四周常常围着一群孩子。村子里没有哪条狗对他狂吠过。瑞普—凡—
12温克尔有一个缺点：什么赚钱的活儿他都不喜欢，甚至是憎恨.很难理解究竟是什么原因让他不爱劳动。可他从不拒绝帮助邻居，哪怕是干最粗的活儿，比如帮人家砌石墙。村里的妇女也常使唤他,让他传信,或做一些她们的丈夫不愿意做的小活计。换言之，除了自各儿的事情外，别人家的事瑞普都乐意管。至少家庭责任，收拾农场，他觉得这样的活儿绝对做不来。事实上，他宣称在他农场上折腾毫无用处，因为那是整个那一带最差的小块地，一无是处。结果由于他经营不善,失去不少土地，他的小农场比他周围的农场更差了.他的孩子也到处游荡，他们的可怜样和他的农场一样。他的儿子小瑞普，和他很像，整天四处晃荡。他穿着一条他父亲的旧裤子，不得不用一只手提着，免得掉了下来。然而，瑞普—凡-温克尔发球那种有福分的人。他一副傻样,与世无争，待人接物从容快乐；他吃好吃差无所谓，只要得来全不费工夫。如果由着他的性子，他会非常心安理得地虚度一生。可是他老婆在他耳朵边不停地数落他，说他游手好闲，对家庭漠不关心，这个家快给他毁了。从早到晚,她唠叨个没完。他说的每句话，做的每件事，定公招徕她一顿臭骂。瑞普对付他那长舌老婆，倒是有个办法，这个办法用多了。已经成了一个习惯。他只是把头耷拉在肩膀上，眼望天空，一言不发。然而,这又引来老婆的一阵发火。这么一来,瑞普无事可做，只有离开家。在家里，瑞普唯一的朋友就是他的狗,名叫沃尔夫。沃尔夫常常是凡—温克尔太太的出气筒，因为她把他们看做是游手好闲的难兄难弟，有时她甚至指责说：瑞普之所以吊儿郎当都是这条狗的错。不错，沃外交活动夫在树林里像条狗，很勇敢，可是再勇敢的狗也经不住一个长舌妇的数落。每当沃尔夫走进家门，他总是耷拉着脑袋，尾巴垂掉在地上或夹在两腿间。他在屋里溜达，一脸心虚的样子,时刻从眼角观察着凡-温克尔太太,一看到她有一丝不快的迹象，便拨腿开溜。瑞普—凡—温克尔结婚后,随着岁月的推移，他的麻烦也越来越多.有很长一段时间,当凡-温克尔太太的唠叨迫使他出门时，他总是和其他闲人坐在一块儿安慰自己.他和这些闲人常坐在村里的小酒馆前面,酒馆的名字就是因英王乔治三世下的肖像而起的。在漫长的夏天里，他们常常坐在树要荫下，没完没了地讲述那些让人打盹的无聊故事.有时候，他们中有人碰巧发现一张过路的游客扔下来的旧报纸，这时他们会非常认真地听报纸上的内容，因为德瑞克-凡-巴梅尔会读给他们听（德瑞克—凡—巴梅尔是村里的小学教师，很有学问，词典里最长的词也难不倒他）。接着他们会露出很有学问的样子讨论几个月前发生的新闻。众人发表的看法完全由尼古拉斯德维达裁决,他是村里岁数最大的老人，是酒馆的主人。他从早到晚坐在门口,只有为了避开太阳要蹲在大树树荫下面的时候，他才挪一下位置。的确，他很少开口讲话,而是不停地抽着烟斗，但是他的崇拜者们最了解他，他们知道怎么才能让他就某个话题发表他的高见。
13要是读的什么内容或讲的什么话让他不开心，他就会狠狠地抽着烟斗；要是他高兴起来，他会慢慢而静静地抽烟。有时候，他从嘴里拿开烟斗,让烟雾在鼻子上方萦绕，点头以示同意大家正在讨论的内容。可是就连这帮能安慰瑞普的人也最终被迫离开倒霉的瑞普。他老婆突然破门而入,直接冲着谈笑正欢的俱乐部，将俱乐部的成员骂得一文不值.甚至了不起的尼古拉斯-维达也难逃这位凶悍的泼妇的一顿肆意辱骂.她指着他的鼻子责骂说，她丈夫游手好闲他要负主要责任。可怜的瑞普因此几乎被逼上了绝路。他唯一能逃避的办法就是拿着猎枪到深山老林去。在山林里，他有时和他忠实的狗一起坐在树下，沃尔夫是他同病相怜的伙伴.“可怜的沃尔夫,”他常这么对他说，“你的日子也不好过，不过别害怕.只要我活着,总有一个朋友和你站在一边!”沃尔夫听罢总是摇摆着尾巴，伤心地望着他的主人.如果狗能有怜悯之心，我坚信他会真心实意地同情瑞普的。在某个秋天就这样长时间地漫步后,瑞普发现自己爬到了卡兹吉尔山脉最大的山峰。他专心于他喜爱的消遣-—-打猎,枪声划破了山林荒凉的宁静。他累得气喘吁吁，到了傍晚,便在悬崖上一个长满绿草的小土丘上躺了下来.有一会儿，他躺在地上观看着山景。夜色快要降临;君山开始在山谷投下长长的蓝色影子。他知道他没到村里，天早就黑了；一想到凡-温克尔太太生气的脸,他就深深在叹气。就在他准备下山时,他突然听到远处有人喊他，“瑞普-凡—温克尔!瑞普-凡—温克尔!”他看了看周围，除了一只大鸟孤单地飞越大山外,什么也没看到。他判断这声音只是他的想象.他转身准备下山，他又听到那喊叫声在寂静的夜空回荡;“瑞普—凡—温克尔！”时他的狗感到毛骨悚然，他跑到主人身边，恐怖地望着山谷。瑞普心里心感到害怕,不安地朝着同一方向看去.他看到了一个奇怪的身影在岩石上攀登着，背上驮着什么沉甸甸的东西.瑞普感到惊讶；在这样荒无人烟的地方竟然看到有人。可是一想到可能是哪一个需要帮忙的邻居，瑞普赶紧冲了下去.他再往前一靠近，陌生人古怪的模样让他更加吃惊了。他是一个个头矮小的老头，膀大腰粗,头发浓密,还长着一撮灰白色的山羊胡子。他穿的是以前的荷兰老款式服装——-
14系着腰带的短布外套产层层相叠的裤子.最外面一层裤子又大又宽，裤脚管两侧镶着几排纽扣。他肩上扛着一只木桶,里面似乎装满了酒.他示意瑞普过来帮他卸下肩上的东西。瑞普虽然不完全信任这个长相古怪的陌生人，但还是走了过去帮他一把。他们搭手抬着木桶，里面似乎装满了酒。他示意瑞普过来帮他卸下肩上的东西。瑞普虽然不完全信任这个长相古怪的陌生人，但还是走了过去帮他一把。他们搭手抬着木桶，沿着山腰狭窄的溪沟小道向高耸的岩石山峰攀登时,瑞普开始听到一些异常的声音，有点儿像打雷声，似乎是从山峰间狭窄的山谷深渊中传出来的.他止步听了听，觉得一定是不远处经过的雷暴.穿过溪沟小道后，他们来到了一个小山洞，山洞像古希腊时期建造的地下剧场。一路上，瑞普和他的同伴一声不吭地爬着山路，因为瑞普尽管对有人在这荒山野岭竟然扛着装着酒的木桶感到不解，但他缺乏勇气去问这个陌生的新朋友。走进山洞，只见各种令人惊奇的新鲜玩意儿。洞里的中央有一小块平地，一帮面貌古怪的人正在玩九木柱游戏。他们身着非常奇特的服装，有些腰带上还佩着刀,他们大部分都穿着又长双宽的裤子，和瑞普的向导的裤子差不多。他们的长相也是古里古怪的，其中有一位，满脸似乎就是一个大鼻子，头顶一顶大白帽.他们都有胡子，形状和颜色各异。有一位好像这帮人的头儿，他是一个身体厚实的老者，佩着宽腰带，戴着一顶插着羽毛的高顶帽，脚上穿着红袜子和高跟鞋。还有一点让瑞普感到特别奇怪。这帮人显然是在玩游戏，可是他们个个表情认真严肃。他们默默地打着球，事实上是他见过的最死气沉沉的游戏聚会.场上除了森柱的滚动声外没有任何声音。木柱滚动时，撞击声像雷声一样响彻山空。当瑞普和他的同伴走近他们的时候，他们突然停下手中的游戏,用奇怪的眼光盯着他看,看得他浑身发毛，两腿颤抖.此时他的同伴将木桶里的东西倒进几个大金属杯子里，示意他端给那帮人。他胆战心惊地照做了。他们一声不吭地喝掉了杯中之物，然后继续他们的游戏。瑞普的紧张和害怕渐渐离他而去.他甚至趁别人不注意地时候壮着胆子尝了一口酒，他很喜欢。不一会儿，他觉得再尝一口的时机到了。他一口接着一口,到了最后，他的眼睛怎么也睁不开，头也耷拉在胸前;他进入了梦乡.醒来时，他发现自己躺在那个长满绿草的小土丘上，他就是在这儿看到那个扛着木桶的老者的。他擦了擦眼睛，知道现在已经是阳光明媚的早晨。鸟儿在树丛中欢唱,树叶随着一阵阵清新的山风摇动着。“当然,”瑞普心想，“我没有在这儿睡上一夜吧！”他记得他睡着前发生的一切：那个扛着酒桶的怪老头-—-——他们攀越的岩石山路——-表情严肃的九木柱游戏者-——-—金属杯里的美酒。“哦!好杯子!那神奇的杯子！"瑞普想起来了。“我该找个什么借口对凡—温克尔太太说呢？"
15他环顾四周找他的枪,可是在他身边找到的不是那支擦得锃亮的，上好了油的猎枪，而是一支年久不用生了锈的枪。他现在知道了,是山里那帮九木柱游戏者捉弄了他；他们用酒将他灌醉，然后偷了他的枪.他的狗沃尔夫也不见了,也许跑到什么地方捉鸟或捉兔子去了。瑞普吹哨子，喊他的名字，可是全是徒劳。山里回荡着他的哨子声和喊叫声，可就是不见他的狗。瑞普决定回到昨晚聚会的地方。“如果我见到他们,"他自言自语道，“我就向他们要我的狗和枪。”他正准备起身要走的时候,他发现他的腿似乎不如平时灵便了；他感到两腿和后背酸痛。“这些山床对健康不利，”瑞普想.“要是这次经历使我卧床不起,那我又要挨凡—温克尔太太一顿臭骂了。他有些吃力地往山下走，来到了山谷。他找到了他和他的伙伴前一天晚上走过的那条溪沟山道，可是让他非常吃惊的是，这条沟道现在流淌着溪流,溪水在岩石间飞溅，山谷里发出山泉流淌时的尝淙淙欢笑声.不过，他试着沿小溪水边攀行，穿孔机过树丛和攀缘植物。他总算来到了那个岩石张开的开阔地，也就是九木柱游戏场地的入口处。可现在连那块开阔地的影子也没有。那些岩石现在变成了一堵不可逾越的高墙屏障，山涧溪流从这里哗哗落到下面的水塘里。可怜的瑞普被迫在这里止住脚步。他又吹了哨子，喊他狗的名字，可是回答他的只是一群山鸟。带着困惑和不安,他转身向家里走去。快到村子的时候，他碰见了好几个人，可他一个也不认识，这让他感到惊讶，因为他以为这一带什么人他都认识。这些人的衣着打扮也和他的朋友和邻居们不一样。他们和他一样满脸的惊讶.他们盯着他看,还抬手摸他的下巴。这种频繁的举动促使瑞普不假思索地也摸了摸自己的下巴。想象一个,当他发觉自己的胡须比以前长了一英尺的时候,他有多么吃惊！现在他已经到了村口。一君陌生的孩子跟在他后面跑并在他身后指着他灰白的胡子喊叫着。那些狗也变得同他以前认得的不一样.他们恶意地对着他狂吠.就连村子的面貌也变了；村子变大了。一排排房子，瑞普以前从未见过，他记得的房子全不见了。门上写着陌生的名字，窗户里看到的是陌生的面孔，一切的一切全是陌生的。这时，瑞普更加不安和迷惑了。“昨天晚上那只杯子，”他想道，“毁了我那可怜的大脑.”费了好大一会儿工夫，他找到了回有的路，他内心带着惧怕向自己的房子走去，时刻等待着凡-温克尔太太的叫骂声.他发现家里的房子破烂不堪，几乎就是一堆旧木板。屋顶塌了，窗户破了，门板倒在地上。一条瘦骨嶙峋的狗站在荒废的房前，样子很像沃尔夫。瑞普叫他的名字，可是这条狗对他露出牙齿，然后走开了。这是让瑞普感到最伤心的事了。“我的狗，我那踏实的狗，”
16瑞普叹了口气，“就连我的狗也把我忘了。”他走进房子的废墟。说实话,凡-温克尔太太以前总是把屋子收拾得井井有条。可是现在房空人去。他匆匆赶到村酒馆，在那里他打发过许多闲散时刻。可是酒馆也不复存在了，取而代之的是一幢大旧木楼，窗户很大，有些已尼打碎了.门上有一个招牌，上面写着；“联合酒店，乔纳森—督利特尔。”那棵原来遮着冷清的荷兰小酒馆的大树没有了。现在是一根很高的杆子,上面是一面旗帜，旗帜上奇怪地组合着许多星条。所有这一切都很奇怪,让人很难理解。但瑞普认得招牌上的画像；那是乔治国王的画像，他在下面平静地抽过许多次烟斗。可就连这画像也觉得古怪，与以前的不同.陛下的红色上有变成了蓝色，他头上戴的是帽子而不是皇冠。画像下面有一行字：华盛顿将军.和以往一样，门口有一群人，但瑞普谁也不认识.他徒劳地寻找着智者尼古拉斯-维达（他长着宽脸,双下巴，抽着长烟斗，嘴里吐出烟云，而不是愚蠢的高谈阔论）.他寻找凡-巴梅尔，那个人他们读旧报的小学教员。可是这些人都不在,他倒是看到了一上瘦瘦的，长相可恶的家伙正在高声谈论公民权—---选举———国会成员—-——-自由还有令凡-温克尔困惑不解的其它新名词.酒店里的这帮政客不久注意到了瑞普:他蓄着长长的灰白胡子,一身过时的服装，手里拿着一杆上锈的猎枪,身后跟着一大帮好奇的妇女和孩子。人们簇拥在他周围,从头到脚地打量着他。那个政治演说者走近他，低声问他，“您的选票投哪一方？”还一个忙碌的小个子拖住他的胳膊，问他发球那个党派.就在瑞普考虑着这些问题是什么意思的时候,一个模样自负的绅士穿过人群，站在瑞普—凡-温克尔面前,问他，“你为什么抓扛着枪来参加革命选举，后面还跟着嘈杂的人群？你是不是想在村里制造混乱？”“哎呀，老爷！”可怜的瑞普叫道。“我是个不爱闹事的可怜人,是这个地方土生土长的村民，国王陛下的忠实臣民，愿上帝保佑他!”一听到这句话,众人愤怒地喊道，“他说‘愿上帝保佑国王’！把他轰走！送他坐监狱！”那个样子自负的人费了好大的工夫才让大家平静下来，然后又问瑞普为什么来这儿，他来找谁？可怜的瑞普低声下气地向他保证他绝无恶意,他来这里只是为了寻找和个以前常坐在客栈前面的邻居。“那么，他们都是谁？说出他们的名字？"瑞普想了想,然后问道，“尼古拉斯—维达在哪儿？”人群中一时没有人答应。过了片刻，有一个老头用尖细的声音答道，“尼古拉斯-维达！他早已不在人世了,他死了18年了！”“布洛姆-答契尔在哪儿?"瑞普问.“
17哦,战争一开始的时候他就去当兵了。有人说他在斯陡尼要塞的那场战役中阵亡了。也许是的，也许不是，我不清楚。但他再也没有回来过。”“那个小学教员凡—巴梅尔在哪儿？”“他也去打仗了，”那老人说.“他是个将军，现在进了国会。”听到他家里和朋友发生了这么大的变化,他心里很悲伤，感到自己成了这个世界上孤苦伶仃的人。每个答案都让他困惑不解。这些人的回答说明,不知许多年过去了，他们提到的事情--——战争--—-国会--——斯陡尼要塞-—--他都不明白。他没敢再往下打听其他朋友,而是绝望地喊道，“这儿有人认识瑞普—凡—温克尔吗？"“哦，瑞普—凡-温克尔，”有两三个人惊叫起来。“是的，是他！瑞普-凡-温克尔在那儿呢,倚在树上的那一个。”瑞普在人群中看到了一个长得和他上山时的模样一样的男人。显然，这个人和他以前一样对干活没有兴趣，他的衣服也和他以前的衣服一样破旧。不幸的瑞普此时脑子被搞湖涂了.他感到纳闷,他究竟是自己呢,还是某个其他人。就在他困惑不定时，人群中有人问，“你是谁?你叫什么名字?"“天知道！”瑞普绝望地高声说道。“我不是我自己我是另一个人。那儿的那个人是我。不,那是和我长得一模一样的另外某个人。昨天晚上我还是我来着,可我在山上睡着了,他们换了我的枪，什么都变了样。我也变了模样，我说不出我的名字，也说不出我是谁?"他的听众此刻开始面面相觑，会意地笑了。不难看出这个老头发疯了。有人低声说“缴了他的枪！谁知道这个老家伙下面会干出什么事来？"可正在这时候，一个长得好看的妇女挤到人群前面来看这位灰白胡子老人,她怀里的孩子被他的外貌吓得哭了起来安静，瑞普，“她对孩子说。”安静,你这个小傻瓜，这个老人不会伤害你的.“孩子的名字,母亲的姿态和她说话原语调，这一切在瑞普—凡—温克尔脑海里勾起了一连串的回忆。“您叫什么名字，好夫人？”他问道。“朱蒂丝-嘉顿妮尔,"她答道。“您父亲叫什么？”“哦，可怜的人!他叫瑞普—凡—温克尔,可是20年前，他带着猎枪离家出走了，此后谁也没有他的消息。他的狗回来了，可他没有。他是开枪自杀了,还是被印第安人掳走了，谁也不知道.我当时只是一个小女孩."瑞普只有一个问题要问了。他声音颤抖地问:“你母亲在哪儿？”“哦,她死了，就在不久前。她是对一个上门兜售产品的人发火，结果血管破裂死了。”这个消息至少给他带来一点安慰。这个诚实的老人再也控制不住自己的感情。他一把抱住他的女儿和她的孩子。“我是你的父亲！”他哭着说道。“从前是年轻的瑞普—凡-温克尔，现在成了老瑞普-凡—温克尔了。这儿没人认得可怜的瑞普—凡—
18温克尔吗?"大伙儿站在那儿，目瞪口呆,最后一个老太太离开人群，抬头打量了他片刻，然后惊叫起来：“没错！是瑞普—凡-温克尔；是瑞普欢迎您回家,老邻居！可是这20年来你去哪儿了？"瑞普很快讲完了他的故事，因为对他来说这整整20年只是一夜的时间.邻居们听了这个故事都睁大眼睛。有些不以为然的邻居彼此笑笑，表露出打趣的神色。那位看上去自负的拉下嘴角，摇了摇头。众人看了也一起摇起头来。然而大家一致同意听听老彼得-范德栋克怎么说，因为有人看到他慢慢向这边走来，彼得是这个村子上年龄最大的。他对这个地区的历史了如指掌。他马上想起了瑞普，最让人信服地证实了他的故事.长话短说，众人散去，回到了他们更关心的话题——-—选举。瑞普的女儿领回瑞普和她一起生活.她有一个舒适的家,丈夫是一个快乐的农夫，瑞普记得,他还是孩子的时候，他经常驮他。至于瑞普的儿子，简直就是自己的翻版。尽管像他父亲一样，也有料理百家事而不愿干自家活儿的习惯，但是他还是受雇在农场工作。现在瑞普又回到了他从前的生活方式。他不久找到了很多以前的老伙伴。因为他们都已经老态龙钟了，所以他更喜欢在年轻人中间交朋友,他们很快喜欢上了他。因为他在家无事可做，也因为他已以到了安享晚年的年龄，没人责备他游手好闲，所以他又坐在村里小酒馆的门前。在那里，他被看做村里的老人，受人尊敬，他可以讲讲“战争前”旧时代发生的事情。过了很长时间，他才真正搞明白他那18年的一觉期间发生了许多不可思议的事件。他得弄清楚这期间发生的革命战争。这场战争使得这个国家因此脱离了英国的统治；他不再是乔治三世陛下的臣民,而是美利坚的自由公民。瑞普实际上不是一个政客，国家和帝国的改朝换代对他来说几乎没有什么印象，但是有一种独立他很明白，那就是他摆脱说话尖刻的老婆.幸运的是，他现在有了这种自主权；在家里他可以随心所欲地进进出出。然而每当有人提到凡-温克尔太太的时候，他总是摇摇头，眼光投向天空。谁也不知道这是表示他接受了命运的摆布，还是表明对自己的解脱感到欣慰。他常对每个来督利特尔的酒店的陌生人讲他的故事。人们注意到，起初他每次讲他的故事的时候，总要改变一些细节。但是这个故事最终固定了下来，和我上述的故事完全一样；村里男女老少无人不晓。有些人想说他们对这个故事的真实性确信无疑。甚至到了今天，每当他们在夏日的下午听到卡兹吉尔山脉附近的雷暴时,他们说这是享德里克-哈得逊和他的水手在玩九木柱游戏。这一带许多在家受气的丈夫有时也希望喝上一口瑞普
19—凡—温克尔神杯里的酒,能一睡解千愁"RipVanWinkle”isaboutamannamedRipVanWinkle,wholivedinalittleDutchtownintheHudsonValley.Everyoneinthetownwasveryfondofhimbecausehewouldhelpanyonewhoneededhelpandhewouldplaywiththechildren.Thethinghecouldn’tdowastendtohisfarmbecauseitseemedthateverythinghedidfailed，sohewouldgooutandfishorgotothetowninnandlistentothegossip.HiswifeDameVanWinklewouldgetangryathimforbeinglazyandnottendingtothefarm.Onedayhedecidedthathehadoneoptiontogetawayfromhiswifeandthefarm,whichwastotakehisgunanddogandgointothewoodsandhuntsquirrels。Hespentalldaylookingforsquirrels,butcouldn’tfindany.Soheliedonthegrassandafterawhilehenoticeditwasgettingdark,sohestartedback.Ashedidthis，heheardsomeonecallinghisnameandthenhesawaghostappearcarryingakegofliquoronhisback。Sotheybothwenttogetherdownthewoodsuntiltheycametothisopeningwheretheysawtheseweirddressedpeopleplaying9pin.RipandtheghostwalkeduptoweredthemandtheghostpouredliquorintotheflasksforthepeopletodrinkandRipstartedtodrinktoountilhepassedoutontheground.Thenextmourninghewokeupanddidn’tknowwhattotellhiswife。Hereachedforhisgun，butallhesawwasarustedoutguninsteadofthewelloiled,shinygun.Thenhelookedforhisdogandhecouldn'tfindhisdog.Sohewentbackintownandeveryonestaredathimliketheydidn'tknowhim。Helookedathimselftoseewhateveryonewasstaringatandhesawthathehadabeardafootlong。Helookedaroundthevillageandnothingwasfamiliar,evenhishousewhichlookedlikearun—downshack.Hewenttothetaverntoseeifherecognizedanyone,whichhedidn't.Thenhestartedcallingthehisfriendsnamestoseeifanyonehasheardofthemandtheyallsaidthattheywerehavemovedonordead.ThenheaskediftheyhaveheardofthenameRipVanWinkleandtheyallpointedtohisson，whichlookedjustlikehim.ThismadeRipthinkthathehadwokeupsomeoneelsebecausehissonlookedjustlikehim.Thenawomanwithachildinherarmscametoseetheman。RiphadoverheardthenameofthechildwasRipandheaskedherwhowasherfatherandshesaidherfatherwasRipVanWinkle，wholeftwhenshewasachildtwentyyearsago。ThenRiptoldherthathewasherEvents,nomatterhowsmallcanchangeasociety,aculture，andanoutlookintheblinkofaneye。Whetheritisinawar，aspeech，agesture，orevenanovel。WashingtonIrvingmadeanincredibleimpactfromhisshortstory”RipVanWinkle",drawingtheeventssurroundinghimtoformasimplestorywithdeepmeaning.Tobringtoapinpoint,thestoryshapedtheAmericancultureastheAmericancultureshapedthestory。Fromthisfolklore,othershavegrownfromit.SomebelievethatRipinfactdidnotfallasleep,buttookadventurousjourneysinforeignlandswithstrangepeople.Artandchild-likefantasieshavebeenthemediantowhichthestorieshavebeencommunicated.Drawingsconsistoffairy-likeareasandmagicalsettingshaveattractedchildrenandadultsalike."RipVanWinkle”hasaffectedelementsacrosstheboard。Itshowsupeverywhere.Since1819,thestory，thename,andwhatitstandforhastouchedallpartsofthearts,literature,education，andculture。Thenumberofeditionsthatthestoryhasaccumulatedishigherthanmostandcomesinallformsofliteraturefromcheappaperbackstoelaboratedillustrationsthathavebecome
20classics。Mentionedinotherliterature,inpolitics,andinavarietyoflanguages，itisusedtodefinewhatourcountrybecameaftertherevolutionarywarandhowtheBritishperceivetheAmericans.ThefactthatRipfellasleepduetotheeffectsofadrink。EnglandfeltthattheAmericanswerelazyalcoholicsthatwouldfallapartifnotfortheBritishauthoritiescontrollingthem。ThestoryofRipVanWinklehasalmostcometothepointwhereithasbecomecommercialized。IfonetravelsintotheCatskills，theywillcomeacrossanarrayoftouristattractionsrangingfromhotels，toLakes，togasstations。ThereisatourcompanythattravelsfromNewYorktotheCatskills.Thereonewillfindafamousgardenwiththesamename。Inconclusion,thestoryRipVanWinklehasaffectedandinturn,beenaffectedbyAmericansociety。Howcanweapplythistomoderndaysociety？Arewestillabletocomparethatwaythataregovernmenthasevolved?Notonlywasitnewbeginningforanewstyleofwritingitwasanewstartforacountry。Washingtoncouldinnowayhaveknownhowmuchhisstorywouldeffectourculture。
