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By Washington Irving RIP VAN WINKLE A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKER- BOCKER By Woden, God of Saxons, From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday. Truth is a thing that ever I will keep Unto thylke day in which I creep into My sepulchre——— ——CARTWRIGHT. [The following Tale was found among the papers of the late Died- rich Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious in the Dutch history of the province, and the manner of the descendants from its primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, did not lie so much among books as among men; for the former are lamentably scanty on his favorite topics; whereas he found the old burghers, and still more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to true history. Whenever therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut up in its low-roofed farm- house, under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as a little clasped volume of black-letter, and studied it with the zeal of a book- worm. The result of all these researches was a history of the province dur- ing the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some years since. There have been various opinions as to the literary character of his work, and, t tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed was a little questioned on its first appearance, but has since been completely established; and is now admitted into all historical collections as a book of unquestionable authority. The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work; and now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to say that his time might have been much better employed in weightier labors. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own way; and though it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of his neighbors, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the truest deference and affection, yet his errors and follies are remembered "more in sorrow than in anger," and it begins to be suspected that he never intended to injure or offend. But however his memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many folks whose good opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain biscuit-bakers, who have gone so far as to im- print his likeness on their New-Year cakes; and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or a Queen Anne's Farthing.] 1. Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must re- member the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of he river, swelling up to a noble height, and lord- ing it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, pro- duces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. 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. 2. At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the light smoke curling up from the village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village, of great antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists in the early times of the province, just about the beginning of the government of the good Peter Stuyvesant, (may he rest in peace!) and there were some of the houses of the original settlers standing within a few yards, built of a small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. 3. 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. He inherited, however, but little of the martial character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple, good-natured man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient, hen-pecked husband. In- deed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that meek- ness of spirit which gained him such universal popularity; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation; and a curtain- lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. 4. 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, when- ever they talked those matters over in their evening gossip- ings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever he ap- proached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood. 5. The great error in Rip's composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would carry a fowling- piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor in even the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone fences; the women of the village, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and to do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for them. In a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody's business but his own; but as to doing family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. 6. In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country; everything about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were continually falling to pieces; his cow would either go astray, or get among the cabbages; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere else; the rain always made a point of setting in just as he had some out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst conditioned farm in the neighborhood. 7. His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with the old clothes, of his father. He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his other's heels, equipped in a pair of his father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather. 8. Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, which ever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment; but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his careless- ness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was incessantly going, and every- thing he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always provoked a fresh volley from his wife; so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the house——the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen-pecked husband. 9. Rip's sole adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much hen-pecked as his master; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods; but what courage can withstand the ever-during and all-besetting terrors of a woman's tongue? The moment Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked around with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance a Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation. 10. Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on; a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long, lazy summer's day, talking list- lessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman's money to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands from some passing traveller. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dic- tionary; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some months after they had taken place. 11. The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe in- cessantly. His adherents, however (for every great man has his adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When anything that was read or related displeased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. 12. From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquility 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 charge him outright with encour- aging her poor husband in habits of idleness. 13. Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair; and his only alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm and clamor of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in per- secution. "Poor Wolf," he would say, "thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee!" Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face; and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the senti- ment with all his heart. 14. In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and reëchoed with the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the trees he could over- look all the lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping in its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in he blue highlands. 15. On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with frag- ments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually advancing; 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 heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. 16. As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing, "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" He looked round, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the still evening air: "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 one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it. 17. On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion,——a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist——several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity; and mutually relieving one another , they clambered up a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long, rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights he proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow like a small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and his companion had labored on in silence; for though the former marvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange and incomprehensible about the unknown, that in- spired awe and checked familiarity. 18. On entering the amphitheatre, new object of wonder presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking personages playing at ninepins. They were dressed in a quaint, outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts and most of them had enormous breeches, of similar style with that of the guide's. their visages, too, were peculiar: one had a large beard, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, high crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting, in the parlor of Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson, and which had been brought over from Holland at the time of the settlement. 19. What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that, though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, when- ever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rum- bling peals of thunder. 20. As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth, lack- lustre countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg into the large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trem- bling; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game. 21. By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste provoked another; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often that at length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep. 22. On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes——it was a bright sunny morning. The birds were hop- ping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breathing the pure mountain breeze. "Surely," thought Rip, "I have not slept here all night." He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor——the mountain ravine——the wild retreat among the rocks——the woe-begone party at ninepins ——the flagon—— "Oh! that flagon! that wicked flagon!" thought Rip,——"what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?" 23. He looked round for his gun, but in the place of the clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel encrusted by rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roisters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen. 24. 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 rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought Rip, "and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of 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 moun- tain stream was now foaming down it, leap- ing 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-hazel, and some- times tripped up or en- tangled by the wild grape-vines that twisted their coils or tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of net- work in his path. 25. At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the cliffs to the amphitheatre; but no traces of such opening remained. The rocks presented a high, impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin, black from the shadow of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to be done? the morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He 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. 26. As he approached the village he met a number of people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, 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 accustomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily t do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long! 27. He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors——strange faces at the windows——everything was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were now bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains——there ran the silver Hudson at a distance——there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been. Rip was sorely perplexed. "That flagon last night," thought he, "had addled my poor head sadly!" 28. It was with some difficulty that he found the way to is 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 off 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. This was an unkind cut indeed. "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten me!" 29. He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This desolateness over- came all his connubial fears——he called loudly for his wife and children——the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again was silence.
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Cooking Serendia Specials - In-Depth Guide
So, what is a Serendia Special? Serendia Special is a top tier food item geared towards damage dealers. Unfortunately for those of you running a high defense build, Serendia Specials will not be your optimal food item (you'll usually be grabbing Calpheon Specials).
Serendia Special gives +5 AP, +10 Accuracy and 5% Critical Rate. +5 AP is self explanatory, it simply increases your damage. +10 Accuracy is excellent when grinding mobs above your level or in PvP. The 5% Critical Hit Rate actually gives one point towards your cap of "5", so if you have a steady supply of Serendia Specials you only need 4 points of Critical Hit Rate from gems and bonuses, and your food will top you up. The buffs last 90 minutes.
Serendia Specials are tradeable, so you can supply your guildmates, friends or whoever with them. They are extremely popular, so selling them can earn you a lot of money. Beware, the market is very aggressive, you will constantly have to relist and undercut new listings or yours will become too expensive. Prices are dropping quickly, and they settle at around 15k-20k (KR).
Crafting Serendia Specials will require farming, gathering, processing, cooking, and a few node investments. It will likely require quite a few bank space increases to handle any spares and the sheer amount of components. Any of these can of course be substituted with just buying off the market, but it will cut into your profits. As the name suggests, many of the ingredients for Serendia Specials are easily found around Serendia. The rest you can farm, gather or purchase from a Cook NPC.
To craft a Serendia Special, you'll need to be at least a Professional in cooking. I got to this point cooking beer and pet food, it's quite an energy sink but they're things I would be using anyways.
If you'd like to do everything entirely by hand/worker, you'll likely need to do some preparation. You'll need a farm plot (I would recommend two) and onion, pepper, and grape seeds to plant. You can rent the largest type of farm plot from Flaviano in the Heidel Square. Ahr, Calpheon's Seed Vendor, sells all the seeds you need. You can have workers gather grapes at the Casta Farm node in Olvia, but for me it is not worth the contribution and having to transport it.
The most annoying ingredient to get is milk. I would recommend either getting an alt character to sit in the Olvia cow pens and do the milking with it's energy (remember the daily quest!) or just buying it from the auction house.
Next we'll have to set up our workers. Here is an overview of my relevant node connections. You will have to extend to Balenos a little for eggs, but it's nice going there anyways for more grain as you'll be needing a lot. Here is a table listing important nodes and their gatherables:
|Costa Farm||Wheat, Pumpkin|
|Alejandro Farm||Cooking Honey, Pumpkin|
|Bartali Farm||Chicken Meat (Eggs), Potato|
|Toscani Farm||Corn x2|
|Finto Farm||Potato, Chicken Meat (Eggs)|
We're now professional cooks, and all our ingredients are ready!
Here is a verbose list of ingredients and how to acquire them.
Here is the same list but cleaned up a little for when you know where to get your ingredients.
Keep in mind that "Beef" means any of the meats listed above. "Apple" can be substituted with any fruit, which is why we gather grapes. "Cabbage" can be substituted with any vegetable which is why we gather pumpkins. "Corn Dough" and "Corn Flour" can be subsituted with any type of grain which is why I've listed nearby corn, potato and wheat nodes. You can also use barley, but there are not any barley nodes nearby.
The rest of the process is pretty self explanatory. Get yourself a cooking utensil in your house, drop the correct ingredients and quantity in the pot and choose how many you'd like to cook. Be very careful with your quantities, if you add too little it will consume your materials and yield nothing. If you add too much it will consume exactly what you specified. Cooking doesn't hold your hand in this regard!
Also remember that one 'recipe' can yield multiple results! Just because you queue up 10 crafts, doesn't mean you'll end up with exactly 10 pieces of food, you'll likely have more! At professional cooking, you should be getting anywhere from 1-5 depending on your luck and quality of ingredients. Yes, this means you can get several Serendia Specials per craft!
Congrats! You've (probably) successfully crafted your first Serendia Specials. Enjoy, and remember to turn those byproduct dishes in. All the turn ins are conveniently located in and around Heidel, and they'll help you get some silver, contribution, beer to keep your workers going, further your cooking level and my favourite, MILK (so we don't have to go get it ourselves!).