man. She had a chubby child in her
arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip," cried
she, "hush, you little fool; the old man won't hurt you." The name of
the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened
a train of recollections in his mind. "What is your name, my good
woman," asked he.

"Judith Gardenier."

"And your father's name?"

"Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it's twenty years
since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of
since--his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or
was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a
little girl."

Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a faltering
voice:

"Where's your mother?"

"Oh, she too had died but a short time since; she broke a blood-vessel
in a fit of passion at a New England peddler."

There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The
honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and
her child in his arms. "I am your 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 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 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 down the 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 road. He was a
descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote one of the
earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient
inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the wonderful events
and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once, and
corroborated his story in the most satisfactory manner. He assured the
company that it was a fact, handed down from his ancestor the
historian, th