Rip Van Winkle version 1 by W. Irving

4.5

Part I

Rip Van Winkle was a farmer. He lived in a village near high mountains, not far from the river Hudson. He was a very kind man. The children in the village loved him. He often took part in their games and made them toys.

He was always ready to help other people in their work, but he did not like to work on his farm, and his wife was often angry with him. Rip never answered her, but went out with his rifle and his dog into the mountains.

One fine autumn day Rip Van Winkle went into the mountains. He walked very high up and then lay down under a tree in the forest to rest. He slept for some time. Then he heard his name: “Rip Van Winkle, Rip Van Winkle!” He opened his eyes and looked around, but could see nobody. He thought that it was a mistake, but again he heard: “Rip Van Winkle, Rip Van Winkle!” At the same time his dog began to growl.

Rip looked again and this time he saw a little old man with a barrel on his back. The old man called to Rip to come and help him, the barrel was full of wine. Rip agreed to help him, and they went up higher into the mountains. Then they stopped, and Rip saw before him some old men playing ball. When they saw Rip, they stopped playing and looked at him for a long time. Rip did not like that. The old man now opened his barrel and gave some wine to each of the men. They drank it and began to play again. Rip sat down near the barrel of wine. “I'll drink some wine when they are not looking,” he said to himself. Then he drank some wine, and he liked it very much. Soon Rip wanted to sleep, so he lay down on the grass and shut his eyes.

When Rip Van Winkle opened his eyes, he saw that he was under a tree in the forest high up in the mountains. It was a bright sunny morning. “Have I slept here all night?” thought Rip. “How angry my wife will be when I come home.” He remembered everything very well. The old man with the barrel of wine, the men playing ball, and the wine in the barrel, which he liked so much.

He looked for the nice clean rifle that he had with him, but all that he saw was a very old rifle near him. He called his dog, but it did not come. Then he stood up ready to go home, but he could not walk well. “Sleeping in the mountains is not good for me,” he said to himself, and began to go down very slowly.

Part II

When Rip came to the village, he met many people, but he did not know anybody. And the people whom he met did not know him either.

Then he saw that their clothes were different, not like his.

He touched his face and found that he had a long grey beard. He met many children; they looked at him and laughed. There were many new houses in the village, but he did not see the houses which he knew very well. New names were over the doors, new faces at the windows.

At last Rip saw his house. The house looked old, its windows were shut. “Where is my wife?” thought Rip. A very thin dog lay near the door. Rip called him, but the dog began to growl. “My dog has forgotten me,” said Rip. He went into the house and called for his wife and children, but nobody answered him. There was nobody in the house.

Rip in his old clothes, with his grey beard and his old rifle then went back to the village. The people looked at him with great interest. They came up to him and asked him questions. “Who are you?” they asked. “What do you want in our village? Who do you want to see?”

Rip thought a little and then asked: “Where’s Nicholas Vedder?”

Nobody answered him. Then an old man said: “Nicholas Vedder! Oh, he died eighteen years ago.”

“Where’s Tom Smith?”

“Oh, he went to the war and did not come back.”

Rip was very sad when he heard this. He could understand nothing. The war? What war?

Then a young woman with a child in her arms came up to him. When the child saw the old man, it began to cry. “Don’t cry, Rip,” said the mother, “the old man won’t touch you.”

When Rip Van Winkle heard the name of the child, he looked at the face of the young woman. He tried to remember who she was. He asked her: “What is your name, my good woman?”

“Judith Gardiner.”

“And your father’s name?”

“Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but twenty years ago he went away into the mountains with his rifle and his dog and nobody saw him after that. I was then a little girl.”

“And where is your mother?” asked Rip.

“She died a short time ago.”

Then Rip put his arms round his daughter and her child.

“I am your father!” cried he, “young Rip Van Winkle in those days, old Rip Van Winkle now. Doesn’t anybody know Rip Van Winkle?”

The people around did not answer him. Then an old woman came up to Rip, looked into his face and said: “Yes, this is Rip Van Winkle. Where have you been these twenty years, old friend?”

Rip soon told his story and then his daughter took him home to live with her and her family.