tail。　They　all　had　beards；　of　various　shapes　and　colors。　There　was　one
  who　seemed　to　be　the　commander。　He　was　a　stout　old　gentleman；　with　a
  weather…beaten　countenance；　he　wore　a　laced　doublet；　broad　belt　and
  hanger；　high　crowned　hat　and　feather；　red　stockings；　and　high…heeled
  shoes；　with　roses　in　them。　The　whole　group　reminded　Rip　of　the　figures
  in　an　old　Flemish　painting；　in　the　parlor　of　Dominie　Van　Shaick；　the
  village　parson；　and　which　had　been　brought　over　from　Holland　at　the
  time　of　the　settlement。
  What　seemed　particularly　odd　to　Rip　was；　that　though　these　folks
  were　evidently　amusing　themselves；　yet　they　maintained　the　gravest
  faces；　the　most　mysterious　silence；　and　were；　withal；　the　most
  melancholy　party　of　pleasure　he　had　ever　witnessed。　Nothing
  interrupted　the　stillness　of　the　scene　but　the　noise　of　the　balls；
  which；　whenever　they　were　rolled；　echoed　along　the　mountains　like
  rumbling　peals　of　thunder。
  As　Rip　and　his　companion　approached　them；　they　suddenly　desisted
  from　their　play；　and　stared　at　him　with　such　fixed　statue…like　gaze；
  and　such　strange；　uncouth；　lack…lustre　countenances；　that　his　heart
  turned　within　him；　and　his　knees　smote　together。　His　companion　now
  emptied　the　contents　of　the　keg　into　large　flagons；　and　made　signs
  to　him　to　wait　upon　the　company。　He　obeyed　with　fear　and　trembling；
  they　quaffed　the　liquor　in　profound　silence；　and　then　returned　to
  their　game。
  By　degrees　Rip's　awe　and　apprehension　subsided。　He　even　ventured；
  when　no　eye　was　fixed　upon　him；　to　taste　the　beverage；　which　he
  found　had　much　of　the　flavor　of　excellent　Hollands。　He　was　naturally　a
  thirsty　soul；　and　was　soon　tempted　to　repeat　the　draught。　One　taste
  provoked　another；　and　he　reiterated　his　visits　to　the　flagon　so
  often　that　at　length　his　senses　were　overpowered；　his　eyes　swam　in　his
  head；　his　head　gradually　declined；　and　he　fell　into　a　deep　sleep。
  On　waking；　he　found　himself　on　the　green　knoll　whence　he　had　first
  seen　the　old　man　of　the　glen。　He　rubbed　his　eyes…　it　was　a　bright
  sunny　morning。　The　birds　were　hopping　and　twittering　among　the　bushes；
  and　the　eagle　was　wheeling　aloft；　and　breasting　the　pure　mountain
  breeze。　〃Surely；〃　thought　Rip；　〃I　have　not　slept　here　all　night。〃　He
  recalled　the　occurrences　before　he　fell　asleep。　The　strange　man　with　a
  keg　of　liquor…　the　mountain　ravine…　the　wild　retreat　among　the
  rocks…　the　wobegone　party　at　nine…pins…　the　flagon…　〃Oh！　that
  flagon！　that　wicked　flagon！〃　thought　Rip…　〃what　excuse　shall　I　make　to
  Dame　Van　Winkle！〃
  He　looked　round　for　his　gun；　but　in　place　of　the　clean　well…oiled
  fowling…piece；　he　found　an　old　firelock　lying　by　him；　the　barrel
  incrusted　with　rust；　the　lock　falling　off；　and　the　stock　worm…eaten。
  He　now　suspected　that　the　grave　roysterers　of　the　mountain　had　put　a
  trick　upon　him；　and；　having　dosed　him　with　liquor；　had　robbed　him　of
  his　gun。　Wolf；　too；　had　disappeared；　but　he　might　have　strayed　away
  after　a　squirrel　or　partridge。　He　whistled　after　him　and　shouted　his
  name；　but　all　in　vain；　the　echoes　repeated　his　whistle　and　shout；
  but　no　dog　was　to　be　seen。
  He　determined　to　revisit　the　scene　of　the　last　evening's　gambol；　and
  if　he　met　with　any　of　the　party；　to　demand　his　dog　and　gun。　As　he　rose
  to　walk；　he　found　himself　stiff　in　the　joints；　and　wanting　in　his
  usual　activity。　〃These　mountain　beds　do　not　agree　with　me；〃　thought
  Rip；　〃and　if　this　frolic　should　lay　me　up　with　a　fit　of　the
  rheumatism；　I　shall　have　a　blessed　time　with　Dame　Van　Winkle。〃　With
  some　difficulty　he　got　down　into　the　glen：　he　found　the　gully　up　which
  he　and　his　companion　had　ascended　the　preceding　evening；　but　to　his
  astonishment　a　mountain　stream　was　now　foaming　down　it；　leaping　from
  rock　to　rock；　and　filling　the　glen　with　babbling　murmurs。　He；　however；
  made　shift　to　scramble　up　its　sides；　working　his　toilsome　way
  through　thickets　of　birch；　sassafras；　and　witch…hazel；　and　sometimes
  tripped　up　or　entangled　by　the　wild　grapevines　that　twisted　their
  coils　or　tendrils　from　tree　to　tree；　and　spread　a　kind　of　network　in
  his　path。
  At　length　he　reached　to　where　the　ravine　had　opened　through　the
  cliffs　to　the　amphitheatre；　but　no　traces　of　such　opening　remained。
  The　rocks　presented　a　high　impenetrable　wall　over　which　the　torrent
  came　tumbling　in　a　sheet　of　feathery　foam；　and　fell　into　a　broad
  deep　basin；　black　from　the　shadows　of　the　surrounding　forest。　Here；
  then；　poor　Rip　was　brought　to　a　stand。　He　again　called　and　whistled
  after　his　dog；　he　was　only　answered　by　the　cawing　of　a　flock　of　idle
  crows；　sporting　high　in　air　about　a　dry　tree　that　overhung　a　sunny
  precipice；　and　who；　secure　in　their　elevation；　seemed　to　look　down　and
  scoff　at　the　poor　man's　perplexities。　What　was　to　be　done？　the　morning
  was　passing　away；　and　Rip　felt　famished　for　want　of　his　breakfast。
  He　grieved　to　give　up　his　dog　and　gun；　he　dreaded　to　meet　his　wife；
  but　it　would　not　do　to　starve　among　the　mountains。　He　shook　his
  head；　shouldered　the　rusty　firelock；　and；　with　a　heart　full　of　trouble
  and　anxiety；　turned　his　steps　homeward。
  As　he　approached　the　village　he　met　a　number　of　people；　but　none
  whom　he　knew；　which　somewhat　surprised　him；　for　he　had　thought　himself
  acquainted　with　every　one　in　the　country　round。　Their　dress；　too；
  was　of　a　different　fashion　from　that　to　which　he　was　accustomed。
  They　all　stared　at　him　with　equal　marks　of　surprise；　and　whenever　they
  cast　their　eyes　upon　him；　invariably　stroked　their　chins。　The　constant
  recurrence　of　this　gesture　induced　Rip；　involuntarily；　to　do　the　same；
  when；　to　his　astonishment；　he　found　his　beard　had　grown　a　foot　long！
  He　had　now　entered　the　skirts　of　the　village。　A　troop　of　strange
  children　ran　at　his　heels；　hooting　after　him；　and　pointing　at　his　gray
  beard。　The　dogs；　too；　not　one　of　which　he　recognized　for　an　old
  acquaintance；　barked　at　him　as　he　passed。　The　very　village　was
  altered；　it　was　larger　and　more　populous。　There　were　rows　of　houses
  which　he　had　never　seen　before；　and　those　which　had　been　his
  familiar　haunts　had　disappeared。　Strange　names　were　over　the　doors…
  strange　faces　at　the　windows…　every　thing　was　strange。　His　mind　now
  misgave　him；　he　began　to　doubt　whether　both　he　and　the　world　around
  him　were　not　bewitched。　Surely　this　was　his　native　village；　which　he
  had　left　but　the　day　before。　There　stood　the　Kaatskill　mountains…
  there　ran　the　silver　Hudson　at　a　distance…　there　was　every　hill　and
  dale　precisely　as　it　had　always　been…　Rip　was　sorely　perplexed…
  〃That　flagon　last　night；〃　thought　he；　〃has　addled　my　poor　head　sadly！〃
  It　was　with　some　difficulty　that　he　found　the　way　to　his　own
  house；　which　he　approached　with　silent　awe；　expecting　every　moment
  to　hear　the　shrill　voice　of　Dame　Van　Winkle。　He　found　the　house　gone
  to　decay…　the　roof　fallen　in；　the　windows　shattered；　and　the　doors　off
  the　hinges。　A　half…starved　dog　that　looked　like　Wolf　was　skulking
  about　it。　Rip　called　him　by　name；　but　the　cur　snarled；　showed　his
  teeth；　and　passed　on。　This　was　an　unkind　cut　indeed…　〃My　very　dog；〃
  sighed　poor　Rip；　〃has　forgotten　me！〃
  He　entered　the　house；　which；　to　tell　the　truth；　Dame　Van　Winkle
  had　always　kept　in　neat　order。　It　was　empty；　forlorn；　and　apparently
  abandoned。　This　desolateness　overcame　all　his　connubial　fears…　he
  called　loudly　for　his　wife　and　children…　the　lonely　chambers　rang
  for　a　moment　with　his　voice；　and　then　all　again　was　silence。
  He　now　hurried　forth；　and　hastened　to　his　old　resort；　the　village
  inn…　but　it　too　was　gone。　A　large　rickety　wooden　building　stood　in　its
  place；　with　great　gaping　windows；　some　of　them　broken　and　mended
  with　old　hats　and　petticoats；　and　over　the　door　was　painted；　〃The
  Union　Hotel；　by　Jonathan　Doolittle。〃　Instead　of　the　great　tree　that
  used　to　shelter　the　quiet　little　Dutch　inn　of　yore；　there　now　was
  reared　a　tall　naked　pole；　with　something　on　the　top　that　looked　like　a
  red　night…cap；　and　from　it　was　fluttering　a　flag；　on　which　was　a
  singular　assemblage　of　stars　and　stripes…　all　this　was　strange　and
  incomprehensible。　He　recognized　on　the　sign；　however；　the　ruby　face　of
  King　George；　under　which　he　had　smoked　so　many　a　peaceful　pipe；　but
  even　this　was　singularly　metamorphosed。　The　red　coat　was　changed　for
  one　of　blue　and　buff；　a　sword　was　held　in　the　hand　instead　of　a
  sceptre；　the　head　was　decorated　with　a　cocked　hat；　and　underneath
  was　painted　in　large　characters；　GENERAL　WASHINGTON。
  There　was；　as　usual；　a　crowd　of　folk　about　the　door；　but　none　that
  Rip　recollected。　The　very　character　of　the　people　seemed　changed。
  There　was　a　busy；　bustling；　disputatious　tone　about　it；　instead　of　the
  accustomed　phlegm　and　drowsy　tranquillity。　He　looked　in　vain　for　the
  sage　Nicholas　Vedder；　with　his　broad　face；　double　chin；　and　fair
  long　pipe；　uttering　clouds　of　tobacco…smoke　instead　of　idle
  speeches；　or　Van　Bummel；　the　schoolmaster；　doling　forth　the　contents
  of　an　ancient　newspaper。　In　place　of　these；　a　lean；　bilious…looking
  fellow；　with　his　pockets　full　of　handbills；　was　haranguing
  vehemently　about　rights　of　citizens…　elections…　members　of　congress…
  liberty…　Bunker's　Hill…　h