(_Fragment of a Romance found between Fleet Street and the Kaatskill
Mountains._)
RIP VAN WINKLE had slept (thanks to a hypnotic trance) for a
considerable time. On opening his eyes he called for a paper. He
eagerly glanced through the columns, and was absolutely baffled by the
nature of their contents.
"What is the matter?" asked a bystander, who had watched his
movements, not without amusement. "Can I help you?"
"Well, yes," replied the sleeper awakened. "When I commenced my
slumbers all the world was talking about the Armenian question. Pray
tell me, are the Powers going to coerce the Turks?"
"No one knows, and no one cares," was the prompt reply.
"And then there was the excitement about our relation with the French
in Africa. Will the matter lead to international complications?"
"My good fellow, the matter does not attract the smallest attention."
"Once more, there was the boom in gold mines. Surely that is a topic
of interest to some one?"
"No, I fancy not," came the answer. "Perhaps a few stockbrokers think
about it--but I doubt it."
"And how about the reserve of ammunition? Have we got enough Cordite
powder or have we not?"
"Really I don't know, and don't care," smilingly replied the person
RIP had accosted.
"And how about the SHAHZADA?"
"I believe His Highness has left England, but the movements of the
Afghan Prince remain nowadays unreported in the daily papers."
"You astonish me!" exclaimed RIP. "Does nothing interest you?"
"Well, not such out-of-date matters as those to which you have
referred. My good friend, you are talking of things that happened
ages--or to be quite accurate, about three weeks--ago. They belong to
the past."
"Then what is now engaging your attention?"
"Why, one subject to the exclusion of all others--how to spend the
recess!"
"Oh, indeed!" exclaimed RIP; and being a reasonable sort of person
he again sought the good services of the hypnotist and went to sleep,
hoping to return to consciousness when his countrymen had finished
their holiday.
* * * * *