15ripvanwinkle(编辑修改稿)

15ripvanwinkle(编辑修改稿)内容摘要：

continually. His admirers, however, understood him perfectly, and knew how to get his opinions on any subject. When anything that was read or told displeased him, he smoked his pipe angrily。 but when he was pleased, he smoked and calmly. Sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, he let the smoke curl about his nose and moved his head up and down as a sign of agreement with what was being said. But even the forting of this group was finally taken from the unlucky Rip. His wife suddenly broke in upon the pleasant discussionclub and gave its members her opinion of their worthlessness. Not even the great Nicholas Vedder himself was safe from the tongue of this daring woman, who blamed him directly for much of her husband’s idleness. Poor Rip was thus driven almost ot despair. His only remaining means of escape was to take his gun and walk away into the wood. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree with his faithful dog and fellow sufferer, Wolf. “Poor Wolf,” he would say. “Your life is hard and sad indeed, but never fear. While I live there will always be one friend to stand beside you!” Wolf would wag his tail and look sadly into his master’s face. If dogs can feel pity, I truly believe he pitied Rip with all his heart. After a long, wandering walk of this kind no a certain autumn day, Rip found that he had climbed to one of the biggest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was engaged in his favorite sport of hunting, and the lonely stillness of the woods had often been broken by the sound of his gun. Tired and breathless, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a little green hill at the highest point of land. For some time Rip lay observing the scene. Evening had almost e。 the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys。 he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the village, and he sighed deeply when he thought of Dame Van Winkle’s angry face. Just as he was about to go down the mountain, he heard a voice from the distance call, “Rip Van Winkle!” He looked around, but could see nothing except a large bird winging its lonely flight across the mountain. He decided he had merely imagined the voice, and had turned again to climb down, when he heard the same cry ring through the quiet evening air: “Rip Van Winkle!” At the same time, the hairs on his dog’s back stood up straight, and the dog moved to his master’s side, looking fearfully into the valley. Rip now felt the same fear within him, and he looked anxiously in the same direction. There he saw a strange figure slowly climbing up the rocks. Bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. Rip was surprised to see any human being in this lonely place. But, supposing it was some neighbor in need of help, he hurried down to。