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 Front Cover
 Rip Van Winkle
 Back Cover






Group Title: Robinson Crusoe series
Title: The story of Rip Van Winkle
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00085412/00001
 Material Information
Title: The story of Rip Van Winkle
Series Title: Robinson Crusoe series
Alternate Title: Rip Van Winkle
Physical Description: 16 p. : col. ill. ; 28 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Webster, George P.
Irving, Washington, 1783-1859
McLoughlin Bros., inc ( Publisher )
Publisher: McLoughlin Bro's
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: c1896
 Subjects
Subject: Van Winkle, Rip (Fictitious character) -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Laziness -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Drinking of alcoholic beverages -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Scolds -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Bowling -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Dreams -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Magic -- Juvenile poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Picture books for children   ( lcsh )
Juvenile poetry -- Catskill Mountains (N.Y.)   ( lcsh )
Juvenile literature -- 1896   ( rbgenr )
Fairy tales -- 1896   ( rbgenr )
Poems -- 1896   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Color printing (Printing)   ( rbpri )
Pictorial bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
Publishers' paper bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
Chromolithographs   ( gmgpc )
Publishers' copies (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
Fairy tales   ( rbgenr )
Poems   ( rbgenr )
Color printing (Printing).   ( rbpri )
Pictorial bindings (Binding).   ( rbbin )
Publishers' paper bindings (Binding).   ( rbbin )
Chromolithographs.   ( gmgpc )
Publishers' copies (Provenance).   ( rbprov )
poetry   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
General Note: In verse.
General Note: Title, imprint statement, and series transcribed from upper cover. Series transposed from between title and imprint statement on cover.
General Note: "Rip Van Winkle. By George P. Webster."--p. 2.
General Note: "Copyright 1896 by McLoughlin Bros., New York."--upper cover.
General Note: Full-page illustrations chromolithographed.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00085412
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002256946
notis - ALK9730
oclc - 82995596

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
    Rip Van Winkle
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    Back Cover
        Page 15
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RIP VAN WINKLE.

By GEORGE P. WEBSTER.



NEAR to the town, in a cottage small,
Lived RIP VAN WINKLE, known to all
As a harmless, drinking, shiftless lout,
Who never would work, but roamed about,
S Always ready with jest and song-
.. Idling, tippling, all day long.
%:^';i 7. ^Sl B "Shame on you, Rip!" cried the scolding
vrows;
"F- And old men muttered and knit their brows
Not so with the boys, for they would shout,
And follow their hero, Rip, about,
Early or late-it was all the same,
They gave him a place in every game.
At ball he was ready to throw or catch;
At marbles, too, he was quite their match;
And many an urchin's face grew bright,
When Rip took hold of his twine and kite.
And so he frittered the time away-
" Good natured enough," they all would say;
But the village parson heaved a sigh i
As Rip, in his cups, went reeling by,
With a silly smirk and a drunken leer-
His good dog Schneider always near.

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RIP VAN WINKLE.


Rip was fond of his rod and line
And many a time, when the day was fine,
He would wander out to some neighboring stream,
And there, with his dog, would sit and dream;
Hour after hour, would he dozing wait,
And woe to the fish that touched his bait.
But the stream of his life ran sometimes rough,
And his good "Vrow" gave him many a cuff,
For she was never a gentle
dame,
And Rip was a toper, and much 7 >.-.'--I
to blame.
But little did Rip Van Winkle (-
care
For his wife or his home-he
was seldom there-
But tried in his cups his cares
to drown L 7
His scolding wife, with her F -
threat'ning frown.
At his cottage door he was sure
to see-
Ah! this," said Rip, "is no place for me."
So down to the tavern to drink his rum,
And waste his time with some red-nosed chum,
He was sure to go; for he knew that there
He would find a glass and a vacant chair,
And jolly fellows, who liked his fun,
And the tales he told of his dog and gun.

































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RIP AND THE CHILDREN.





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RIP AT THE TAVERN.


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RIP VAN WINKLE.


But his was still but a sorry life,
For, sot as he was, he loved his wife;
But he would tipple both day and night,
And she would scold him with all her might.
Thus Rip Van Winkle had many a grief,
And up 'mongst the mountains sought relief.
For lowering clouds or a burning sun
He cared but little; his dog and gun
Were his friends, he knew; while they were near
He roamed the forests, and felt no fear,
If tired at last, and a seat he took,
And his'dog came up with a hungry look,
He had always a crust or bone to spare,
And Schneider was certain to get his share.
And then if a squirrel chanced to stray
In range of his gun, he would blaze away,
S And he held it too with a steady aim-
P /Rip never was known to miss his game.
S.But over his ills he would sometimes brood
And scale the peaks in a gloomy mood;
S And once he had climbed to a dizzy
height,
Ilk When the sun went down, and
the shades of night
Came up from the vale, and the
pine-trees tall,
}. 9 And the old gray rocks, and the
"waterfall
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RIP VAN WINKLE.


Grew dusky and dim, and faded away, ..
Till night, like a pall, on the mountain lay.
Full many a mile he had strayed that day,
And up in the mountains had lost his way;
And there he must stay through the gloomy
night,
And shiver and wait for the morning
light.
He thought of the stories, strange
and old,
Which the graybeards down in
the village told; '
' And what," said he, "if the tale '
were true
I have heard so oft of a phantom crew,
Who up in the Catskills, all night long,
Frolic and revel with wine and song."
Just then a voice from a neighh'ring hill
Cried "Rip Van Winkle!" and all was still.
Then he looked above and he looked below,
And saw not a thing but a lonely crow.
Ho, Rip Van Winkle!" the voice still cried.
And Schneider skulked to his master's side.
Just then from a thicket a man came out--
His legs were short and his body stout,
He looked like a Dutchman in days of yore,
With buttons behind and buttons before;
And held a keg with an iron grip,
And beckon d for help at the gazing Rip.

















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THE NINE-PIN GAME IN THE MOUNTAINS.


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RIP VAN WINKLE.


Rip had his fears, but at last complied,
And bore the keg up the mountain side;
And now and then, when a thunder-peal
Made the mountain tremble, Rip would steal
A look at his guide, but a never a word
From the lips of the queer old man was heard.
Up, up they clambered, until at last,
The stranger halted. Rip quickly cast
A glance around, and as strange a crew
As ever a mortal man did view
Were playing at nine-pins; at every ball
'Twas fun to see how the pins would fall;
And they rolled and rolled, without speaking a word,
And this was the thunder Rip had heard.
Their hats looked odd, each with sugar-loaf crown,
And their eyes were small and their beards hung down,
While their high-heeled shoes all had peaked
toes,
And their legs were covered with blood-red
hose;
Their noses were long, like a porker's snout,
SAnd they nodded and winked as they
moved about.
They tapped the keg, and the liquor
flowed,
., "' And up to the brim of each flagon
glowed;
SAnd a queer old man made a sign to
Rip,






RIP VAN WINKLE.


As much as to say, "Will you take a nip ?"
Nor did he linger or stop to think, -
For Rip was thirsty and wanted a drink. li
" I'll risk it, thought he; it can be no sin,'i
And it smells like the best of Holland gin;"
So he tipped his cup to a grim old chap, A
And drained it; then, for a quiet nap,
He stretched himself on the mossy ground,
And soon was wrapped in a sleep profound.
At last he woke; 'twas a sunny morn,
And the strange old man of the glen was gone;
He saw the young birds flutter and hop,
And an eagle wheeled round the mountain-top;
Then he rubbed his eyes for another sight-
Surely," said he, I have slept all night,"
He thought of the flagon and nine-pin game;
Oh! what shall I say to my fiery dame!"
He, faintly faltered; I know that she
Has a fearful lecture in store for me."
He took up his gun, and strange to say,
The wood had rotted and worn away:
He raised to his feet and his joints were sore;
Said he, I must go to my home once more."
Then, with trembling step, he wandered down;
Amazed, he entered his native town.
The people looked with a wondering stare,
For Rip, alas! was a stranger there;
He tottered up to his cottage door,
But his wife was dead, and could scold no more.



















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THE KEG IS TAPPED AND THE LIQUOR FLOWS.









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RIP AWAKES FROM HIS LONG SLUMBER.


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RIP VAN WINKLE.


And down at the tavern he
sought in vain
For the chums he would never
e- meet again.
AR, He met a youth, and at him
he gazed
.. With a wondering look, and a
d. mind amazed,
For his own true image he
seemed to be


.- Nor did he dream 'twas his
darling son
He had only known as his little one.
He looked, as he passed, at a group of girls,
For the laughing eye and the flaxen curls
Of the child he had loved as he
loved his life,
But she was a thrifty farmer's
wife;
And when they met, and her hand
he took,
She blushed and gave him a puz-
zled look;
But she knew her father and kissed
his brow,
All covered with marks and
wrinkles now;





RIP VAN WINKLE


I N1 IFor Rip Van Winkle was old and
gray,
l/i And twenty summers had passed
away-
Yes, twenty winters of snow and frost
Had he in his mountain slumber lost;
' 6- Yet his love for stories was still the
same,
i' And he often told of the nine -pin
game,
And he mused, and mumbled, and
gossiped, too,
Of his mountain nap and of Hudson's crew;
The drink of gin he could not forget,
For the taste on his palate lingered yet,
But the age was getting a little fast;
The Revolution had come and passed,
And Young America, gathered about,
Received his tales with many a doubt.
Awhile he hobbled about the town;
Then worn and weary, at last lay down,
For his locks were white and his limbs were sore-
And RIP VAN WINKLE will wake no more.


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