ENERAL 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 Hill--heroes
of seventy-six--and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish
jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle.

The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty
fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and children at
his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern politicians.
They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to foot with great
curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly
aside, inquired "on which side he voted?" Rip stared in vacant
stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm,
and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear "whether he was Federal or
Democrat?" 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 right and left with his
elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with arms
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?" "Alas! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, "I am a
poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the
King, God bless him!"

Here a general shout burst from the bystanders--"A Tory! a Tory! a
spy! a refugee! hustle him! away with him!" It was with great
difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored
order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again
of the unknown culprit what he came there for, and whom he was
seeking? The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but
merely cam