Indiana Palladium, Volume 2, Number 25, Lawrenceburg, Dearborn County, 1 July 1826 — Page 1

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V: 8 l7. M 1 ugj HJjiiuiiiJtiwwiwHw w.i iiimii, ii iw i1 mum EQUALITY OK RIGHTS IS NATURE'S PLAN AND FOLLOWING NATURE IS THE MARCH OF 31 AN. 1ja3lovi. Volume II. LAWRENCEBURGII, INDIANA; SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1826. Number 25,

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PRLXTED J1JVD PUBLISHED BY J. SPENCER. J). V. CULLEY, W 0;i ei'cry Saturday Morning .

HIP IS.LY JVLYKLE. A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER.... Coiiclll tied. On awaking, lie found hitiself on t lie green knoll from whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes il was a bright sunn) morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushe, and the eagle Vvas wheeling aloft, and bi easting the pure mountain breeze. "Surely," thought Rip, 4kI bate not slept here nil right." lie recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with the keg of liquor the mountain ravine the wild retreat among the rocks the wo-beoi-e party at nine-pins the flagon "Oh! that flagon!" that wicked flagon!' thought Rip "what excuse shall I make to Dame V an Winkle?" He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean well-oiled fowlingpiece, he found an old lire lock lying by him, the barrel encrusted with rust, the lock falling oil, and the stock worm-rat-en. lie now suspected that the grate roysters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, and having dosed Jiirn with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf too, had disappeared, hut lie might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him, shouted his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen. He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun; As he arose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joint?, and wanting very considerably in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought Rip, "and if this froliek should lay me up with a lit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle." With some difficulty he got down i ito the glen; he found the gu'ly up w i c 1 1 he and his com panion had ascended the preceding evening; Initio 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 shift to scramble up its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch hazlo, and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the wild grape vines that twisted thehf'oiIs and tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of network in his path. At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the cliffs, to the amphitheatre ; but r.o (races of such opening remained. The rocks present ed a high impenitrable wall, over w hich the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin, black lrom the shadows of the stir rounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip vas brought to a stand. He a ga i n called and whistled after liis dog; he was only answn d by the CUwillif of' a flock of bile ( ro.vs, sparling high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; and who secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and seoffat the poor 'man's perplexities. What was to be done? the morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want ofa nis nreakiast. lie grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, With a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward. As he approached the village, he met a number of people, but none whom he 'knew, which somewhat surprised nim, for he had thought himself acquainted With every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to which he was accustom ed. J. They all started at him with equal, inrks of surprise, and whenever thev manes or surprise, and w henever thev

cast eyes upon him, invariably strokedlat a loss to comprehend the question;

their chins. 1 tie constant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long! . He had nowT entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran Jrt his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, nftns of, which he recognized for r his old acquaintances, barked at him as he passed. The very village seemed altered: it vas larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which

he had never seen before, and those)

which had been his laminar haunts hadla disappeared. strange names were over the doors strange faces at the windows every thing was strange. His mind now began to misgive him; he doubted whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surelv this was his native village, which he had left but the day before. There stood theKaatskill mountains there ran the silver Hudson at a distance there w as every hill and dale precisely as it had always been Rip was sorely perplexed "That flagon last night," thought he, "has addled my head sadIt was with much difficulty he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay the roof fallen in, the windows shattered and the doors oil' the hinges. A half starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. ThU was an unkind cut indeed "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten me!" He entered the house, winch to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn and apparently deserted and abandoned. This desolatencss overcome all his connubial fears he called loudly for his wife and children the lonely chambers rung for a moment with in? voice, and then all again was silence. He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the little village inn but it too was gone. A large ricketty wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows-, some of them broken, and mended w ith old hat and petticoats, and over the door was paint ed, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolitlle." Instead ot the great tree which used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was rear ed a tall naked pole, with something on top that looked like a red niglit cap, and from it was fluttering a iiag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes all this was strange and incomprehensible. He recognised on the sign, however, the rubv lace of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe, but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and bulf, a sword was stuck in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, Gen eral W asiiingtox. There was, as usual, a crowd of fol! about the door, but none whom Rip re collected. The very character of the! people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquility. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smokeinstead of idle speeches; or Van Rumrl erl.mJmlfr. rlnHno- forth tiu r.tnnfo rm nnrinnt nnvsnniipr. In place of these, a lean billious looking fel low, with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens election members of eon - gross liberty Bunkers hill heroesof seventy-six and other words, that were' pt.rfct Baby lonish jargon to the bewil - ... . . de red-Van Winkle. The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, his rusty towiing piece, his unccutu dress, and the army ol woman and children that had gathered at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern politicians. They crowded around him, eyeing him from head to 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 raising on tiptoe, inquired i Federal o in his ear, "whether he was Federal or Democrat. . lip w as eoualwhen a knowing, sell-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, w ith one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen ey es and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austre 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! gentleman," erred Rip, sonie-

what dismayed, "I am a poor quiet man.

nativeot the place, and a loyal subject ef the King, God bless him!" Here a general shout burst from the bystanders "A tory ! a ton! a spy a refugee! hustle him! awav with him!" It was with great difficulty that the selfimportant man in the cocked hat restored order; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he carne there for, and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm; but merely came there in search of some his neighbours, who used to keep about t lie tavern. "Well who are thev ? name them." Rip bethought himself a moment and inquired, "w here's Nicholas Tedder?" There was a silent e for a little hi le when an old man replied, in a thin piping voice, "Nicholas Vedder? w hy he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the church vard that used to tell all about him, but that' rotted and gone too." "W here's Brorn Dutcher?" "Oh, he went olf to the army in the beginning of the war; some say he was killed at the battle of Stoncy-Point others a he v as drowi ed'in a squall at the foot if Antony Nose. 1 don't know he ncv( r came back again." " here Van Hummel, the schoolmaster!" "He went off to the w ars too, wa a great militia general, and is now in Congress." Rip's heart died away , at hearing el these sad changes in his heme and friends, and tinding himself thus alone in the world. I "very answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand : war Congress Stoncy Point! he had nocourage to ask after anv more friends, but cried out in despair, "does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" "Oh, Rip A'an Winkle!"' exclaimed two or three, Oh, to be sure ! that's Rip Van V inkle onder, leaning against the tree. Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself, as he went up the mountain: apparently as lazy, and ceitainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity , and whether he wahimself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name? "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself I'm some-: hod v else that's me yonder no that's somebody else, got into my shoes 1 was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they've changed my gun. and every thing's changed, and Tm changed, and I can't tell w hat's my name, or who I am! The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about secur ing the gun, and keeping the old fellow

from doing mischief; at the very sug-i could be made to comprehend the I away the materials. Mr. Ellis, Mi P gestion of which, the self-important manUtrange events that had taken place dur- for Dublin, presented a petition to Paf in the cocked hat retired with some pre- ing his torpor; how that there had beemhament, praying for an act to prevent its cipitation. At this critical moment aa revolutionary war that the country He said that the practice was variicd fresh likely w oman pressed through the! bad throw n off the voke of old England; to an enormous extent, and that lie kntw

throng to get a peep at the graybcarded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, w hich, frightened at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip, cried he . .. . 1 ' -----71 !"hush, you little fool, the old man ont! hurt you. J he 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'S0 crnment : happily, that was at an end ; woman?" asked he. " J he had got his neck out of the yoke of

"Judith Gardenier." "And your fathers name?" "Ah, poor man, his name was Rip Van Winkle; it's twenty years since he vcnt away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since Ids 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 w ith a filtering 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. "1 am your father!" cried he "Voung Rip Van Winkle once old Rip Tan Winkle now! Does nobody know poor Rip Tan Winkle!" All stood amazed, until an old woman, totcring 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 Win, where have you been

these twenty long years?" Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty vears had been to him but : as one night. 1 he neighbors stared when they heard it; some were seen to wink at each other, put their tongues .... ... .1 in their cheeks; and the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, fcrew ed 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 Tanderdonk. who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He w as a descendant of a histori an 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 won-! ful events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the moi-t satisfactory manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed down from his ancestor the historian, that theKaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was athrmrd that the great Hendnck Hudson, the fust dh-covi rer of the river and country, kept a kind ol vigil there every twenty vears, with hisrew ot the Halfmoon, being pern itted in this way to lev i?it the scenes of his enterprize, and keep a guardian eye upon the river, and the great city called by his name. That his father hail ci ce seen them in their old Dutch dresses play ing at nine pins in a hollow o' the mountain; and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like lone peals of thunder. To make a long story short, the com pany broke up, and returned to the more important concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with bei : she had a snug, well-fun i:hed house, Jc : stout cheery tanner for a husband, horn Rip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his bad:. As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen leaning against the tree, hr was employed to work mi the farm; but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to any tiling else but his business. Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of time ; and preferred making friends among the rising generation, with whom he soon grew into great favrr. Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when a man can do nothing with impunity, he look his place once more on the bench, at the inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the village, and a chronic le of the old times "before the war." It was some time before he could get into the regular trarl of gos? osip, on

and that, instead of being a subject ofjone individual w ho had lost jWy houses his-Majesty George the Third, he wasjthis way! A Dublin Journal adds: "1m now a free citizen of the United States. deed we do not wonder that the w orthy

I Rip, in tact, was no politician; the chan- . . I 'g(is of states and empires made but little impression on him; hut there was one pecies ot despotism under which he had long groaned, and that was petticoat matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Tan Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast up his eyes; which might pass either for an expression of resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverence. He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. Dooliltle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points every time he told it, which was, doubtless, owing to his having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, and not a man, wonran, or child in the neiborhood, but knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point on which he always remained flighty. The old Dutch" inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear a thunder itorm of a suintner after-

noon, about the Kaatskill, but they snv Hendnck Hudson and his crew are at their game of nine pins; and it is a corn mon w ish of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have

a quieting draught out of Rip "Van Winklc s flagon, J)bn the Troy Scntintl. On Friday w-e were sitting quietly after dinner, building castles in the air, when our attention was attracted by a singular equipage, passing by in the street. It was a low square wagon ) loaded with furniture and household good? to which a man was harnessed instead of a horse. His w ife, good soul, was trudging along behind, doing her part of the labor, by pushing the wagon after hiim By this time they had reached the corner of State and River streets, wheri some one asked if they had not a heavy load. "About middling" said the husband. "Vou are pretty near I hope to your journey's end." "Oh no, we have a great mtfny hundred miles to travel ) ftU'' They had taken with them, we presume, their whole worldly substance. There was their table, their bed, their two chairs, with the usual variety of pots, kettles and frying pans. Among other ar tides, "too numerous to mention," w e noticed a hand-sled and a rake, w hich with w onderful forethought, thev were in this way carrying with thm, to "their resting place" in the west. They were, it would seem, a loving couple?: fiom the land of pumpkin pies ard fai turkeys, who fu ding that neither the one nor the other ever came to their board, had set out on a pilgrimage to that beautiful country of which thev had heard ti e earthly paradise ej the Mrsf, where debt and poverty are altogether unknown, and ones whole existence is a long summer's day of enjoyment Grand Island, alias sh-rarat, remains as the Governor and Judge of Israel left it, a wilderness, adapted to the highest state of cultivation. The passing ha veller looks in vain from the deck of it r ar al boat, to catch a glirr.se of the city of refuge; w here the remnant of Israel were to be gathered together, and to sit under their own "vine and fig tree, with none to molest or make them afraid."--Instead of Jewish Synagogues and Rabbis, he sees nothing hut a forest, with here and there a straggling hut ter or fisherman, who walks as if on christian ground. We have no disposition to speak lightly of Noah's project time alone will dev elope it, if a splendid specij lation was concealed under a plan to ameliorate the condition of the Jews If not, the project is a benevolent one and its author shquld have the be;t motives attributed to him, though his judg ment may be questioned. Lodport OLs Ilov.ve IVrccuns. There is a cusior;; in Dublin, which for boldness and im pudence, exceeds any thing we evi read of. In many parts of that city th tenants pull down the houses and carry member should ieel rather sore on thi3 subject, as we remember that not Ions' since, w hen he went to seek for his rents arising out of some houses in Fisher-lane' he was informed that the houses had to tally disappeared six weeks before." Brooklyn, JunelGreat fishing. On monday, the Kth ult. a fishing company at Rivcrheadj I. commanded by Captain Noah Voung?? drew on shore in a seine 1,509,000 fish of the kind called moss bunkers, orbeney fUh, which are used for manure. The Riverhead Bay, which is about three miles across, has yielded about nine rni. lions of this fish, w hich have been tukefr by eighty men, and are valued for ma nure at one dollar per thousand thul amounting to the handsome sum of 200-? dollars. At Southold, a few miles from River head, the fishing companies have bser equally successful, and vast quantities are on the beach These fish, whenap plied to the land, render the poorest so? productive. It is stated that 10,0C0wil? make the worst land produce twenty bushels of wheat per acre. Star. The coloured man at Philadelphia who lately killed his child, by pouring aqua fortis on it, has been sentenced U ten vears imprisonment