Indeed, I have heard many stranger stories
than this, in the villages along the Hudson; all of which were too
well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I have even talked with Rip
Van Winkle myself, who, when last I saw him, was a very venerable
old man, and so perfectly rational and consistent on every other
point, that I think no conscientious person could refuse to take
this into the bargain; nay, I have seen a certificate on the subject
taken before a country justice and signed with a cross, in the
justice's own handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond the
possibility of doubt.
D. K."
POSTSCRIPT.
The following are travelling notes from a memorandum-book of Mr.
Knickerbocker:
The Kaatsberg, or Catskill Mountains, have always been a region full
of fable. The Indians considered them the abode of spirits, who
influenced the weather, spreading sunshine or clouds over the
landscape, and sending good or bad hunting seasons. They were ruled by
an old squaw spirit, said to be their mother. She dwelt on the highest
peak of the Catskills, and had charge of the doors of day and night to
open and shut them at the proper hour.
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