The  honest  man  could  contain  himself  no  longer.  He
caught  his  daughter  and  her  child  in  his  arms.  "  I  am  your
15  father!"  cried  he — "Young  Rip  Van  Winkle  once — old
Rip  Van  Winkle  now! — Does  nobody  know  poor  Rip  Van
Winkle?"

All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman,  tottering  out
from  among  the  crowd,  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and
20  peering  under  it  in  his  face  for  a  moment,  exclaimed,
"Sure  enough!  It  is  Rip  Van  Winkle — it  is  himself!
Welcome  home  again,  old  neighbor.  Why,  where  have
you  been  these  twenty  long  years?  "

Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole  twenty  years
25  had  been  to  him  but  as  one  night.  The  neighbors  stared
when  they  heard  it;  some  were  seen  to  wink  at  each  other,
and  put  their  tongues  in  their  cheeks;  and  the  self-
important  man  in  the  cocked  hat,  who,  when  the  alarm
was  over,  had  returned  to  the  field,  screwed  dow^n  the
30  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  shook  his  head — upon  which
there  was  a  general  shaking  of  the  head  throughout  the
assemblage.
It  was  determined,  however,  to  take  the  opinion  of  old
Peter  Vanderdonk,  who  was  seen  slowly  advancing  up  the


Rip  Van  Winkle  67

road.  He  was  a  descendant  of  the  historian  of  that  name,
who  wrote  one  of  the  earliest  accounts  of  the  province.
