17 - Chronicles of Wolferts Roost and Other Papers by Washington Irving

Dive into the enchanting world of Washington Irving, the master storyteller behind timeless classics like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle. This captivating collection features a remarkable array of tales that span the eerie and supernatural folklore of New England to the exotic legends and travel anecdotes inspired by Irvings journeys across Europe. Join narrator Ben Tucker as he brings these diverse stories to life, showcasing the rich tapestry of Irvings literary genius.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Section seventeen of Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost and Other Papers.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
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visit librivanx dot org. Recording by Rita Boutros. Chronicles of

(00:22):
Wolfert's Roost and Other Papers by Washington Irving. The Early
Experiences of Ralph Ringwood, Part one noted down from his
conversations by Geoffrey Crayon, Gentlemen, I am a Kentuckian by
residence and choice, but a Virginian by birth. The cause

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of my first leaving the ancient dominion and emigrating to
Kentucky was a jackass, you stare, But have a little patience,
and I'll soon show you how it came to pass.
My father, who is one of the old Virginian families,
resided in Richmond. He was a widower, and his domestic

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affairs were managed by a housekeeper of the old school,
such as used to administer the concerns of opulent Virginian households.
She was a dignitary that almost rivaled my father in importance,
and seemed to think everything belonged to her In fact,
she was so considerate in her economy and so careful

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of expense, as sometimes to Vex my father, who would
swear she was disgracing him by her meanness. She always
appeared with that ancient insignia of housekeeping, trust and authority,
a great bunch of keys jingling at her girdle. She
superintended the arrangements of the table at every meal, and

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saw that the dishes were all placed according to her
primitive notions of symmetry. In the evening, she took her
stand and served out tea with a mingled respectfulness and
pride of station, truly exemplary. Her great ambition was to
have everything in order, and that the establishment under her

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sway should be cited as a model of good housekeeping.
If anything went wrong, poor old Barbara would take it
to heart and sit in her room and cry, until
a few chapters in the Bible would quiet her spirits
and make all calm again. The Bible, in fact, was

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her constant resort in time of trouble. She opened it indiscriminately,
and whether she chanced among the lamentations of Jeremiah, the
Canticles of Solomon, or the rough enumeration of the tribe's
in deuterotomy, a chapter was a chapter and operated like

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balm to her soul. Such was our good old housekeeper Barbara,
who was death and unwittingly to have a most important
effect upon my destiny. It came to pass, during the
days of my juvenility, while I was yet what is
termed an unlucky boy, that a gentleman of our neighborhood,

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a great advocate for experiments and improvements of all kinds,
took it into his head that it would be an
immense public advantage to introduce a breed of mules, and
accordingly imported three jacks to stock the neighborhood. This in
a part of the country where the people cared for

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nothing but blood horses. Why sir, they would have considered
their mares disgraced and their whole stud dishonored by such
a misalliance. The whole matter was a town talk and
a town scandal. The worthy amalgamator of quadrupeds found himself

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in a dismal screen. So he backed down in time,
abjured the whole doctrine of amalgamation, and turned his jacks
loose to shift for themselves upon the town common. There
they used to run about and lead an idle, good
for nothing holiday life the happiest animals in the country.

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It so happened that my way to school lay across
the common. The first time that I saw one of
these animals, it set up a braying and frightened me confoundedly. However,
I soon got over my fright, and, seeing that it
had something of a horse look, my Virginian love for

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anything of the equestrian species predominated, and I determined to
back it. I accordingly applied at a grocer's shop, procured
a cord that had been round a loaf of sugar,
and made a kind of halter. Then, summoning some of
my school fell we drove Master Jack about the common

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until we hemmed him in an angle of a worm fence.
After some difficulty, we fixed the halt around his muzzle,
and I mounted up, flew his heels away. I went
over his head, and off he scampered. However, I was
on my legs in a twinkling gave chase, caught him,

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and remounted. By dint of repeated tumbles, I soon learnt
to stick to his back, so that he could no
more cast me than he could his own skin. From
that time, Master Jack and his companions had a scampering
life of it, for we all rode them between school

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hours and on holiday afternoons. And you may be sure
schoolboys nags are never permitted to suffer the grass to
grow under their feet. They soon became so knowing that
they took to their heels at sight of a schoolboy,
and we were generally much longer in chasing than we

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were in riding them. Sunday approached, on which I projected
an equestrian excursion on one of these long eared steeds,
as I knew the jacks would be in great demand
on Sunday morning. I secured one overnight and conducted him
home to be ready for an early outset. But where

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was I to quarter him for the night. I could
not put him in the stable. Our old black groom,
George was as absolute in that domain as Barbara was
within doors, and would have thought his stable, his horses
and himself disgraced by the introduction of a jackass. I

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recollected the smoke house, an outbuilding appended to all Virginian
establishments for the smoking of hams and other kinds of meat.
So I got the key put Master Jack in locked
the door, returned the key to its place, and went
to bed, intending to release my prisoner at an early

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hour before any of the family were awake. I was
so tired, however, by the exertions I had made in
catching the donkey, that I fell into a sound sleep,
and the morning broke without my waking. Not so with
Dame Barbara, the housekeeper. As usual to use her own phrase,

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she was up before the crow, put his shoes on,
and bustled about to get things in order for breakfast.
Her first resort was to the smoke house. Scarce had
she opened the door. When Master Jack, tired of his
confinement and glad to be released from darkness, gave a

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loud bray and rushed forth down Old Barbara. The animal
trampled over her and made off for the common. Poor Barbara,
she had never before seen a donkey, and having read
in the Bible that the devil went about like a
roaring lion, seeking whom he might devour, she took it

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for granted that this was Belzebub himself. The kitchen was
soon in a hubbub. The servants hurried to the spot.
There lay Old Barbara in fits as fast as she
got out of one, the thoughts of the devil came
over her, and she fell into another. For the good

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soul was devoutly superstitious, as ill luck would have it.
Among those attracted by the noise was a little cursed, fidgety,
crabbed uncle of mine, one of those uneasy spirits that
cannot rest quietly in their beds in the morning, but
must be up early to bother the house salt. He

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was only a kind of half uncle, after all, for
he had married my father's sister. Yet he assumed great
authority on the strength of this left handed relationship, and
was a universal intermeddler and family pest. This prying, little
busybody soon ferreted out the truth of the story and

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discovered by hook and by crook that I was at
the bottom of the affair and had locked up the
donkey in the smoke house. He stopped to inquire no farther,
for he was one of those testy kurmudgeons with whom
unlucky boys are always in the wrong. Leaving Old Barbara

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to wrestle in imagination with the devil, he made for
my bed chamber, where I still lay wrapped in rosy slumbers,
little dreaming of the mischief I had done and the
storm about to break over me. In an instant, I
was awakened by a shower of thwax and started up

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in wild amazement. I demanded the meaning of this attack,
but received no other reply than that I had murdered
the housekeeper, while my uncle continued whacking away. During my confusion,
I seized a poker and put myself on the defensive.
I was a stout boy for my years, while my

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uncle was a little with it of a man, one
that in Kentucky we would not call even an individual
nothing more than a remote circumstance. I soon, therefore brought
him to a parley and learned the hull extent of
the charge brought against me. I confessed to the donkey

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and the smoke house, but pleaded not guilty of the
murder of the housekeeper. I soon found out that old
Barbara was still alive. She continued under the doctor's hands, however,
for several days, and whenever she had an ill turn,
my uncle would seek to give me another flogging. I

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appealed to my father, but got no redress. I was
considered an unlucky boy, prone to all kinds of mischief,
so that prepossessions were against me in all cases of appeal.
I felt stung to the soul at all this. I
had been beaten, degraded, and treated with slighting. When I complained,

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I lost my usual good spirits and good humor, and
being out of temper with everybody, fancied everybody out of
temper with me. A certain wild, roving spirit of freedom,
which I believe is as inherent in me as it
is in the partridge, was brought into sudden activity by

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the check and restraints I suffered. I'll go from home,
thought I, and shift for myself. Perhaps this notion was
quickened by the rage for emigrating to Kentucky, which was
at that time prevalent in Virginia. I had heard such
stories of the romantic beauties of the country, of the

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abundance of game of all kinds, and of the glorious
independent life of the hunters who ranged its noble forests
and lived by the rifle, that I was as much
agg to get there as boys who live in seaports
are to launch themselves among the wonders and adventures of

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the ocean. After a time, Old Barbara got better in
mind and body, and matters were explained to her, and
she became gradually convinced that it was not the devil
she had encountered. When she heard how harshly I had
been treated on her account, the good old soul was

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extremely grieved and spoke warmly to my father in my behalf.
He had himself remarked the change in my behavior and
thought punishment might have been carried too far. He sought,
therefore to have some conversation with me and to soothe
my feelings. But it was too late. I frankly told

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him the course of mortification that I had experienced, and
the fixed determination I had made to go from home.
And where do you mean to go to Kentucky? To Kentucky?
Why you know nobody there? No matter, I can soon
make acquaintances. And what will you do when you get there? Hunt?

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My father gave a long, low whistle and looked in
my face with a serio comic expression. I was not
far in my teens, and to talk of setting off
alone for Kentucky to turn Hunter seemed doubtless the idle
prattle of a boy. He was a little aware of
the dogged resolution of my character, and his smile of incredulity,

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but fixed me more obstinately in my purpose. I assured
him I was serious in what I said, and would
certainly set off for Kentucky in the spring. Month after
month passed away. My father now and then adverted slightly
to what had passed between us, doubtless for the purpose

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of sounding me. I always expressed the same grave and
fixed determination. By degrees, he spoke to me more directly
on the subject, endeavoring earnestly but kindly to dissuade me.
My only reply was I had made up my mind accordingly.

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As soon as the spring had fairly opened, I saw
him one day in his study and informed him I
was about to set out for Kentucky and had come
to take my leave. He made no objection, for he
had exhausted persuasion and remonstrance, and doubtless thought it best

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to give way to my humor, trusting that a little
rough experience would soon bring me home again. I asked
money for my journey. He went to a chest, took
out a long green silk purse well filled, and laid
it on the table. I now asked for a horse
and servant, a horse, said my father, sneeringly. Why you

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would not go a mile without raising him and breaking
your neck? And as to a servant, you cannot take
care of yourself, much less of him. How am I
to travel? Then? Why I suppose you are man enough
to travel on foot? He spoke jestingly, little thinking I

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would take him at his word. But I was thoroughly
piqued in respect to my enterprise. So I pocketed the purse,
went to my room, tied up three or four shirts
in a pocket handkerchief, put a dirk in my bosom,
girt a couple of pistols round my waist, and felt
like a knight errant, armed a cap of pie, and

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ready to rove the world in quest of adventures. My
sister I had but one, hung round me and wept
and entreated me to stay. I felt my heart swell
in my throat, but I gulped it back to its
place and straightened myself up. I would not suffer myself

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to cry. I at length disengaged myself from her and
got to the door. When will you come back, cried she?
Never by heaven, cried I until I come back. A
member of Congress from Kentucky. I am determined to show
that I am not the tail end of the family.

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Such was my first outset from home. You may suppose
what a green horn I was, and how little I
knew of the world I was launching into. I do
not recollect any incident of importance until I reached the
borders of Pennsylvania. I had stopped at an inn to
get some refreshment. As I was eating in a back room,

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I overheard two men in the bar room conjecture who
and what I could be. One determined at length that
I was a runaway apprentice and ought to be stopped,
to which the other assented. When I had finished my
meal and paid for it, I went out at the
back door lest I should be stopped by my supervisors. Scorning, however,

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to steal off like a culprit, I walked round to
the front of the house. One of the men advanced
to the front door. He wore his hat on one
side and had a consequential air that nettled me. Where
are you going, youngster, demanded he. That's none of your business,

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replied I, rather pertly, Yes, but it is though you
have run away from home and must give an account
of yourself. He advanced to seize me when I drew
forth a pistol. If you advance another step, I'll shoot you.
He sprang back as if he had trodden upon a rattlesnake,

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and his hat fell off in the movement. Let him alone,
cried his companion. He's a foolish, mad headed boy, and
don't know what he's about. He'll shoot you. You may
rely on it. He did not need any caution in
the matter. He was afraid even to pick up his hat.
So I pushed forward on my way without molestation. This incident, however,

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had its effect upon me. I became fearful of sleeping
in any house at night lest I should be stopped.
I took my meals and the houses in the course
of the day, but would turn aside at night into
some wood or ravine, make a fire, and sleep before it.
This I considered was true Hunter's style, and I wished

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to inure myself to it. At length. I arrived at
Brownsville leg weary and wayworn, and in a shabby plight,
as you may suppose, having been camping out for some
nights past. I applied at some of the inferior inns,
but could gain no admission. I was regarded for a

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moment with a dubious eye, and then informed they did
not receive foot passengers. At last, I went boldly to
the principal inn. The landlord appeared as unwilling as the
rest to receive a vagrant boy beneath his roof, But
his wife interfered in the midst of his excuses, and

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half elbowing him aside. Where are you going, my lad,
said she to Kentucky. What are you going there for
to hunt? She looked earnestly at me for a moment
or two. Have you a mother living? Said she at length, No, madam,
she has been dead for some time, I thought, so,

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cried she warmly. I knew if you had a mother living,
you would not be here. From that moment, the good
woman treated me with a mother's kindness. I remained several
days beneath her roof, recovering from the fatigue of my journey.
While here, I purchased a rifle and practiced daily at

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a mark to prepare myself for a hunter's life. When
sufficiently recruited in strength, I took leave of my kind
host and hostess and resumed my journey at Wheeling, I
embarked in a flat bottomed family boat technically called a
broad horn, a prime river conveyance in those days. In

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this arc, for two weeks, I floated down the Ohio.
The river was as yet in all its wild beauty.
Its loftiest trees had not been thinned out. The forest
overhung the water's edge, and was occasionally skirted by immense
cane brakes. Wild animals of all kinds abounded. We heard

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them rushing through the thickets and plashing in the water.
Deer and bears would frequently swim across the river. Others
would come down to the bank and gaze at the
boat as it passed. I was incessantly on the alert
with my rifle, but somehow or other the game was

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never within shot. Sometimes I got a chance to land
and try my skill on shore. I shot squirrels and
small birds, and even wild turkeys. But though I caught
glimpses of deer bounding away through the woods, I never
could get a fair shot at them. In this way,

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we glided in our broad horn past Cincinnati, the Queen
of the West as she is now called. Then a
mere group of log cabins, and the sight of the
bustling city of Louisville, then designated by a solitary house.
As I said before, the Ohio was as yet a

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wild river. All was forest forest forest. Near the confluence
of Green River with the Ohio, I landed bad adieu
to the Broad Horn and struck for the interior of Kentucky.
I had no precise plan. My only idea was to
make for one of the wildest parts of the country.

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I had relatives in Lexington and other settled places, to
whom I thought it probable my father would write concerning me.
So as I was full of manhood and independence, and
resolutely bent on making my way in the world without
assistance or control, I resolved to keep clear of them all.

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In the course of my first day's trudge, I shot
a wild turkey and slung it on my back for provisions.
The forest was open and clear from underwood. I saw
deer in abundance, but always running, running. It seemed to
me as if these animals never stood still. At length,

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I came to where a gang of half starved wolves
were feasting on the carcass of a deer which they
had run down, and snarling and snapping and fighting like
so many dogs. They were all so ravenous and intent
upon their prey that they did not notice me, and
I had time to make my observations. One larger and

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fiercer than the rest, seemed to claim the larger share
and to keep the others in awe. If any one
came to near him while eating, he would fly off,
seize and shake him, and then return to his repast.
This thought, I must be the captain. If I can

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kill him, I shall defeat the hull army. I accordingly
took aim, fired, and down dropped the old fellow. He
might be only shamming dead, so I loaded and put
a second ball through him. He never budged. All the
rest ran off, and my victory was complete. It would

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not be easy to describe my triumphant feelings on this
great achievement. I marched on with renovated spirit, regarding myself
as absolute lord of the forest. As night drew near,
I prepared for camping. My first care was to collect
dry wood and make a roaring fire to cook and

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sleep by, and to frighten off wolves and bears and panthers.
I then began to pluck my turkey for supper. I
had camped out several times in the early part of
my expedition, but that was in comparatively more settled and
civilized regions where there were no wild animals of consequence

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in the forest. This was my first camping out in
the real wilderness, and I was soon made sensible of
the loneliness and wildness of my situation. In a little while,
a concert of wolves commenced. There might have been a
dozen or two, but it seemed to me as if

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there were thousands. I never heard such howling and whining.
Having prepared my turkey, I divided it into two parts,
thrust two sticks into one of the halves, and planted
them on end before the fire, the hunter's mode of roasting.
The smell of roast meat quickened the appetites of the wolves,

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and their concert became truly infernal. They seemed to be
all around me, but I could only now and then
get a glimpse of one of them as he came
within the glare of the light. I did not much
care for the wolves, whom I knew to be a
cowardly race, but I had heard terrible stories of panthers

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and began to fear their stealthy prowlings in the surrounding darkness.
I was thirsty and heard a brook bubbling and tinkling
along at no great distance, but absolutely dared not go there,
lest some panther might lie in wait and spring upon me.

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By and by a dear whistled. I had never heard
one before, and thought it must be a panther. I
now felt uneasy lest he might climb the trees, crawl
along the branches overhead, and plump down upon me. So
I kept my eyes fixed on the branches until my

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head ached. I more than once thought I saw fiery
eyes glaring down from among the leaves. At length, I
thought of my supper and turned to see if my
half turkey was cooked. In crowding so near the fire,
I had pressed the meat into the flames, and it
was consumed. I had nothing to do but toast the

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other half and take better care of it. On that half,
I made my supper without salt or bread. I was
still so possessed with the dread of panthers that I
could not close my eyes all night, but lay watching
the trees until daybreak, when all my fears were dispelled

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with the darkness, and as I saw the morning sun
sparkling down through the branches of the trees, I smiled
to think how I suffered myself to be dismayed by
sounds and shadows. But I was a young woodsman and
a stranger in Kentucky. Having breakfasted on the remainder of

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my turkey and slaked my thirst at the bubbling stream,
without farther dread of panthers, I resumed my wayfaring with
buoyant feelings. I again saw deer, but as usual running running.
I tried in vain to get a shot at them,
and began to feel I never should. I was gazing

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with vexation after a herd in full scamper, when I
was startled by a human voice. Turning round, I saw
a man at a short distance from me in a
hunting dress. What are you after, my lad, cried he.
Those dear, replied I pettishly. But it seems as if

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they never stand still. Upon that, he burst out laughing.
Where are you from? Said he from Richmond? What in
old Virginny the same? And how on earth did you
get here? I landed at Green River from a broad horn,
And where are your companions. I have none, what all alone? Yes,

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where are you going anywhere? And what have you come
here for to hunt? Well? Said he laughingly. You'll make
a real There's no mistaking that. Have you killed anything?
Nothing but a turkey. I can't get within shot of
a deer. They are always running. Oh, I'll tell you

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the secret of that. You're always pushing forward and starting
the deer at a distance, and gazing at those that
are scampering. But you must step as slow and silent
and cautious as a cat, and keep your eyes close
around you, and lurk from tree to tree if you
wish to get a chance a deer. But come go

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home with me. My name is Bill Smithers. I live
not far off. Stay with me a little while, and
I'll teach you how to hunt. I gladly accepted the
invitation of honest Bill Smithers. We soon reached his habitation,
a mere log hut with a square hull for a
window and a chimney made of sticks and clay. Here

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he lived with a wife and child. He had girdled
the trees for an acre or two around, preparatory to
clearing a space for corn and potatoes. In the meantime,
he maintained his family entirely by his rifle, and I
soon found him to be a first rate huntsman. Under
his tutelage, I received my first effect of lessons in woodcraft.

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The more I knew of a hunter's life, the more
I relished it. The country, too, which had been the
promised land of my boyhood, did not, like most promised lands,
disappoint me. No wilderness could be more beautiful than this
part of Kentucky. In those times. The forests were open
and spacious, with noble trees, some of which looked as

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if they had stood for centuries. There were beautiful prairies, too,
diversified with groves and clumps of trees which looked like
vast parks, and in which you could see the deer
running at a great distance. In the proper seat reason,
these prairies would have been covered in many places with
wild strawberries, where your horses hoofs would be dyed to

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the fetlock. I thought there could not be another place
in the world equal to Kentucky, and I think so still.
After I had passed ten or twelve days with Bill Smithers,
I thought it time to shift my quarters, for his
house was scarce large enough for his own family, and
I had no idea of being an encumbrance to any one.

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I accordingly made up my bundle, shouldered my rifle, took
a friendly leave of Smithers and his wife, and set
out in quest of a Nimrod of the wilderness, one
John Miller, who lived alone nearly forty miles off, and
who I hoped would be well pleased to have a
hunting companion, And of Section seventeen