The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent, Volume 1
J. Murray, 1822
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affection antiquity appearance arms authors Baron beautiful become brought cast castle character church close common continually custom Dame deep distant door earth England English existence face fancy feeling flowers friends funeral give grave green grow hand head heard heart hour interest keep kind lady land light living looked manner melancholy ment mind monument mountain nature neighbour never noble observed once passed planted poets poor present pride rich Rip Van Winkle round rural says scene seat seemed seen side silent sometimes soon sorrow soul sound spirit steps story strange stranger sweet tell tender thing thought tion told tomb traveller trees true turned village voice volume wandering whole wife wild window writers young
Page 72 - 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?
Page 69 - Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" — at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place, but supposing it to be some...
Page 59 - WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height and lording it over the surrounding country.
Page 60 - When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky ; but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory.
Page 61 - In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple, good-natured fellow of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort Christina.
Page 69 - ... curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. From even this strong-hold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the members all to naught ; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness.
Page 233 - Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, on Wednesday, in Whitsun week, when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor ; thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my lady, thy wife.
Page 69 - 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...
Page 62 - Certain it is that he was a great favorite among all the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles, and never failed, whenever they talked those matters over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle.
Page 276 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave ; thou shall not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured harebell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine ; whom not to slander, Outsweeten'd not thy breath.