the legend of sleepy hollow by washington irving found among the papers of the late diedrichknickerbocker. a pleasing land of drowsy head it was,of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; and of gay castles in the clouds that pass,forever flushing round a summer sky. castle of indolence. in the bosom of one of those spacious coveswhich indent the eastern shore of the hudson, at that broad expansionof the river denominated by the ancient dutch navigators the tappanzee, and where they always
prudently shortened sail and implored theprotection of st. nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small markettown or rural port, which by some is called greensburgh, but which ismore generally and properly known by the name of tarry town. this namewas given, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of theadjacent country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands tolinger about the village tavern on market days. be that as it may,i do not vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of beingprecise and authentic. not far from this village, perhaps about twomiles, there is a little
valley or rather lap of land among high hills,which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. a smallbrook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose;and the occasional whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpeckeris almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity. i recollect that, when a stripling, my firstexploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-treesthat shades one side of the valley. i had wandered into itat noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by theroar of my own gun, as it
broke the sabbath stillness around and wasprolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. if ever i should wishfor a retreat whither i might steal from the world and its distractions,and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, i know of nonemore promising than this little valley. from the listless repose of the place, andthe peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from theoriginal dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by thename of sleepy hollow, and its rustic lads are called the sleepy hollowboys throughout all the
neighboring country. a drowsy, dreamy influenceseems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere.some say that the place was bewitched by a high german doctor, duringthe early days of the settlement; others, that an old indian chief,the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before thecountry was discovered by master hendrick hudson. certain it is, theplace still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holdsa spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in acontinual reverie. they are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs,are subject to trances and
visions, and frequently see strange sights,and hear music and voices in the air. the whole neighborhood abounds withlocal tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot andmeteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country,and the nightmare, with her whole ninefold, seems to make itthe favorite scene of her gambols. the dominant spirit, however, that hauntsthis enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all thepowers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback, withouta head. it is said by some
to be the ghost of a hessian trooper, whosehead had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless battleduring the revolutionary war, and who is ever and anon seen by the countryfolk hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings ofthe wind. his haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at timesto the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church atno great distance. indeed, certain of the most authentic historians ofthose parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floatingfacts concerning this spectre, allege that the body of the trooperhaving been buried in the
churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the sceneof battle in nightly quest of his head, and that the rushing speedwith which he sometimes passes along the hollow, like a midnight blast,is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to thechurchyard before daybreak. such is the general purport of this legendarysuperstition, which has furnished materials for many a wild storyin that region of shadows; and the spectre is known at all the country firesides,by the name of the headless horseman of sleepy hollow. it is remarkable that the visionary propensityi have mentioned is not
confined to the native inhabitants of thevalley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there fora time. however wide awake they may have been before they entered thatsleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale the witchinginfluence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative, to dream dreams,and see apparitions. i mention this peaceful spot with all possiblelaud, for it is in such little retired dutch valleys, found here andthere embosomed in the great state of new york, that population,manners, and customs remain fixed, while the great torrent of migrationand improvement, which is
making such incessant changes in other partsof this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved. they are like thoselittle nooks of still water, which border a rapid stream, wherewe may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowlyrevolving in their mimic harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passingcurrent. though many years have elapsed since i trod the drowsyshades of sleepy hollow, yet i question whether i should not still findthe same trees and the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom. in this by-place of nature there abode, ina remote period of american
history, that is to say, some thirty yearssince, a worthy wight of the name of ichabod crane, who sojourned, or,as he expressed it, "tarried," in sleepy hollow, for the purpose of instructingthe children of the vicinity. he was a native of connecticut,a state which supplies the union with pioneers for the mind as well asfor the forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmenand country schoolmasters. the cognomen of crane was not inapplicableto his person. he was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feetthat might have served for
shovels, and his whole frame most looselyhung together. his head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, largegreen glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like aweather-cock perched upon his spindle neck to tell which way the wind blew.to see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, withhis clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistakenhim for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or somescarecrow eloped from a cornfield. his schoolhouse was a low building of onelarge room, rudely constructed
of logs; the windows partly glazed, and partlypatched with leaves of old copybooks. it was most ingeniously securedat vacant hours, by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, andstakes set against the window shutters; so that though a thief mightget in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment in gettingout,--an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, yost van houten,from the mystery of an eelpot. the schoolhouse stood in a ratherlonely but pleasant situation, just at the foot of a woody hill, with a brookrunning close by, and a formidable birch-tree growing at one endof it. from hence the low
murmur of his pupils' voices, conning overtheir lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer's day, like the hum ofa beehive; interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master,in the tone of menace or command, or, peradventure, by the appallingsound of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowerypath of knowledge. truth to say, he was a conscientious man, and everbore in mind the golden maxim, "spare the rod and spoil the child." ichabodcrane's scholars certainly were not spoiled. i would not have it imagined, however, thathe was one of those cruel
potentates of the school who joy in the smartof their subjects; on the contrary, he administered justice withdiscrimination rather than severity; taking the burden off the backsof the weak, and laying it on those of the strong. your mere puny stripling,that winced at the least flourish of the rod, was passed by with indulgence;but the claims of justice were satisfied by inflicting a doubleportion on some little tough wrong-headed, broad-skirted dutch urchin,who sulked and swelled and grew dogged and sullen beneath the birch.all this he called "doing his duty by their parents;" and he never inflicteda chastisement
without following it by the assurance, soconsolatory to the smarting urchin, that "he would remember it and thankhim for it the longest day he had to live." when school hours were over, he was even thecompanion and playmate of the larger boys; and on holiday afternoonswould convoy some of the smaller ones home, who happened to havepretty sisters, or good housewives for mothers, noted for the comfortsof the cupboard. indeed, it behooved him to keep on good terms withhis pupils. the revenue arising from his school was small, and wouldhave been scarcely
sufficient to furnish him with daily bread,for he was a huge feeder, and, though lank, had the dilating powersof an anaconda; but to help out his maintenance, he was, according tocountry custom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses ofthe farmers whose children he instructed. with these he lived successivelya week at a time, thus going the rounds of the neighborhood, withall his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief. that all this might not be too onerous onthe purses of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costsof schooling a grievous
burden, and schoolmasters as mere drones,he had various ways of rendering himself both useful and agreeable.he assisted the farmers occasionally in the lighter labors of theirfarms, helped to make hay, mended the fences, took the horses towater, drove the cows from pasture, and cut wood for the winter fire.he laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity and absolute sway with whichhe lorded it in his little empire, the school, and became wonderfullygentle and ingratiating. he found favor in the eyes of the mothersby petting the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lionbold, which whilom so
magnanimously the lamb did hold, he wouldsit with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle with his foot for wholehours together. in addition to his other vocations, he wasthe singing-master of the neighborhood, and picked up many bright shillingsby instructing the young folks in psalmody. it was a matter ofno little vanity to him on sundays, to take his station in front of thechurch gallery, with a band of chosen singers; where, in his own mind,he completely carried away the palm from the parson. certain it is, hisvoice resounded far above all the rest of the congregation; and thereare peculiar quavers still
to be heard in that church, and which mayeven be heard half a mile off, quite to the opposite side of the millpond,on a still sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately descendedfrom the nose of ichabod crane. thus, by divers little makeshifts,in that ingenious way which is commonly denominated "by hook and by crook,"the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and was thought, by allwho understood nothing of the labor of headwork, to have a wonderfully easylife of it. the schoolmaster is generally a man of someimportance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood; being considereda kind of idle,
gentlemanlike personage, of vastly superiortaste and accomplishments to the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferiorin learning only to the parson. his appearance, therefore, is aptto occasion some little stir at the tea-table of a farmhouse, and the additionof a supernumerary dish of cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure,the parade of a silver teapot. our man of letters, therefore, waspeculiarly happy in the smiles of all the country damsels. how hewould figure among them in the churchyard, between services on sundays; gatheringgrapes for them from the wild vines that overran the surroundingtrees; reciting for their
amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones;or sauntering, with a whole bevy of them, along the banks of theadjacent millpond; while the more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepishlyback, envying his superior elegance and address. from his half-itinerant life, also, he wasa kind of travelling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local gossipfrom house to house, so that his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction.he was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition,for he had read several books quite through, and was a perfectmaster of cotton mather's
"history of new england witchcraft," in which,by the way, he most firmly and potently believed. he was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdnessand simple credulity. his appetite for the marvellous,and his powers of digesting it, were equally extraordinary; and both hadbeen increased by his residence in this spell-bound region. no talewas too gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. it was often hisdelight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretchhimself on the rich bed of clover bordering the little brook that whimperedby his schoolhouse, and
there con over old mather's direful tales,until the gathering dusk of evening made the printed page a mere mistbefore his eyes. then, as he wended his way by swamp and stream and awfulwoodland, to the farmhouse where he happened to be quartered, every soundof nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination,--themoan of the whip-poor-will from the hillside, the bodingcry of the tree toad, that harbinger of storm, the dreary hooting ofthe screech owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightenedfrom their roost. the fireflies, too, which sparkled most vividlyin the darkest places, now
and then startled him, as one of uncommonbrightness would stream across his path; and if, by chance, a huge blockheadof a beetle came winging his blundering flight against him, the poorvarlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that he was struckwith a witch's token. his only resource on such occasions, either todrown thought or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes andthe good people of sleepy hollow, as they sat by their doors of an evening,were often filled with awe at hearing his nasal melody, "in linkedsweetness long drawn out," floating from the distant hill, or along thedusky road.
another of his sources of fearful pleasurewas to pass long winter evenings with the old dutch wives, as theysat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and splutteringalong the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ghostsand goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges,and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman,or galloping hessian of the hollow, as they sometimes called him. he woulddelight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direfulomens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailedin the earlier times of
connecticut; and would frighten them woefullywith speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarmingfact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they werehalf the time topsy-turvy! but if there was a pleasure in all this, whilesnugly cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was allof a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and where, of course,no spectre dared to show its face, it was dearly purchased by the terrorsof his subsequent walk homewards. what fearful shapes and shadowsbeset his path, amidst the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night! withwhat wistful look did he
eye every trembling ray of light streamingacross the waste fields from some distant window! how often was he appalledby some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted spectre,beset his very path! how often did he shrink with curdling awe at the soundof his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet; and dread tolook over his shoulder, lest he should behold some uncouth being trampingclose behind him! and how often was he thrown into complete dismay bysome rushing blast, howling among the trees, in the idea that it was thegalloping hessian on one of his nightly scourings!
all these, however, were mere terrors of thenight, phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness; and though he had seenmany spectres in his time, and been more than once beset by satan indivers shapes, in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end toall these evils; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despiteof the devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed bya being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins,and the whole race of witches put together, and that was--a woman. among the musical disciples who assembled,one evening in each week,
to receive his instructions in psalmody, waskatrina van tassel, the daughter and only child of a substantialdutch farmer. she was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen; plump asa partridge; ripe and melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's peaches,and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her vast expectations.she was withal a little of a coquette, as might be perceivedeven in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions,as most suited to set off her charms. she wore the ornaments of pureyellow gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over fromsaardam; the tempting
stomacher of the olden time, and withal aprovokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle inthe country round. ichabod crane had a soft and foolish hearttowards the sex; and it is not to be wondered at that so tempting a morselsoon found favor in his eyes, more especially after he had visitedher in her paternal mansion. old baltus van tassel was a perfect pictureof a thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. he seldom, it is true,sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of hisown farm; but within those everything was snug, happy and well-conditioned.he was satisfied with
his wealth, but not proud of it; and piquedhimself upon the hearty abundance, rather than the style in whichhe lived. his stronghold was situated on the banks of the hudson, in oneof those green, sheltered, fertile nooks in which the dutch farmers areso fond of nestling. a great elm tree spread its broad branches overit, at the foot of which bubbled up a spring of the softest and sweetestwater, in a little well formed of a barrel; and then stole sparklingaway through the grass, to a neighboring brook, that babbled along amongalders and dwarf willows. hard by the farmhouse was a vast barn, thatmight have served for a
church; every window and crevice of whichseemed bursting forth with the treasures of the farm; the flail was busilyresounding within it from morning to night; swallows and martins skimmedtwittering about the eaves; and rows of pigeons, some with oneeye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with their heads under theirwings or buried in their bosoms, and others swelling, and cooing, andbowing about their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. sleekunwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abundance of theirpens, from whence sallied forth, now and then, troops of sucking pigs,as if to snuff the air.
a stately squadron of snowy geese were ridingin an adjoining pond, convoying whole fleets of ducks; regimentsof turkeys were gobbling through the farmyard, and guinea fowls frettingabout it, like ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish,discontented cry. before the barn door strutted the gallant cock, thatpattern of a husband, a warrior and a fine gentleman, clapping hisburnished wings and crowing in the pride and gladness of his heart,--sometimestearing up the earth with his feet, and then generously callinghis ever-hungry family of wives and children to enjoy the rich morselwhich he had discovered.
the pedagogue's mouth watered as he lookedupon this sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. in his devouringmind's eye, he pictured to himself every roasting-pig running about witha pudding in his belly, and an apple in his mouth; the pigeons weresnugly put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverletof crust; the geese were swimming in their own gravy; and the duckspairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, with a decent competencyof onion sauce. in the porkers he saw carved out the future sleekside of bacon, and juicy relishing ham; not a turkey but he behelddaintily trussed up, with
its gizzard under its wing, and, peradventure,a necklace of savory sausages; and even bright chanticleer himselflay sprawling on his back, in a side dish, with uplifted claws, as ifcraving that quarter which his chivalrous spirit disdained to ask whileliving. as the enraptured ichabod fancied all this,and as he rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, therich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and indian corn, and the orchardsburdened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded the warm tenementof van tassel, his heart yearned after the damsel who was to inheritthese domains, and his
imagination expanded with the idea, how theymight be readily turned into cash, and the money invested in immensetracts of wild land, and shingle palaces in the wilderness. nay, hisbusy fancy already realized his hopes, and presented to him the bloomingkatrina, with a whole family of children, mounted on the top ofa wagon loaded with household trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath;and he beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at herheels, setting out for kentucky, tennessee,--or the lord knows where! when he entered the house, the conquest ofhis heart was complete. it
was one of those spacious farmhouses, withhigh-ridged but lowly sloping roofs, built in the style handed down fromthe first dutch settlers; the low projecting eaves forming a piazza alongthe front, capable of being closed up in bad weather. under this werehung flails, harness, various utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishingin the neighboring river. benches were built along the sidesfor summer use; and a great spinning-wheel at one end, and a churn atthe other, showed the various uses to which this important porch might bedevoted. from this piazza the wondering ichabod entered the hall, whichformed the centre of the
mansion, and the place of usual residence.here rows of resplendent pewter, ranged on a long dresser, dazzledhis eyes. in one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to be spun;in another, a quantity of linsey-woolsey just from the loom; ears ofindian corn, and strings of dried apples and peaches, hung in gay festoonsalong the walls, mingled with the gaud of red peppers; and a door leftajar gave him a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairsand dark mahogany tables shone like mirrors; andirons, with their accompanyingshovel and tongs, glistened from their covert of asparagustops; mock-oranges and
conch-shells decorated the mantelpiece; stringsof various-colored birds eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrichegg was hung from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard,knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old silverand well-mended china. from the moment ichabod laid his eyes uponthese regions of delight, the peace of his mind was at an end, and his onlystudy was how to gain the affections of the peerless daughter of vantassel. in this enterprise, however, he had more real difficulties thangenerally fell to the lot of a knight-errant of yore, who seldom had anythingbut giants, enchanters,
fiery dragons, and such like easily conqueredadversaries, to contend with and had to make his way merely throughgates of iron and brass, and walls of adamant to the castle keep, wherethe lady of his heart was confined; all which he achieved as easilyas a man would carve his way to the centre of a christmas pie; and thenthe lady gave him her hand as a matter of course. ichabod, on the contrary,had to win his way to the heart of a country coquette, beset witha labyrinth of whims and caprices, which were forever presentingnew difficulties and impediments; and he had to encounter a hostof fearful adversaries of
real flesh and blood, the numerous rusticadmirers, who beset every portal to her heart, keeping a watchful andangry eye upon each other, but ready to fly out in the common cause againstany new competitor. among these, the most formidable was a burly,roaring, roystering blade, of the name of abraham, or, according to thedutch abbreviation, brom van brunt, the hero of the country round,which rang with his feats of strength and hardihood. he was broad-shoulderedand double-jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff butnot unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance.from his herculean frame
and great powers of limb he had received thenickname of brom bones, by which he was universally known. he wasfamed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterouson horseback as a tartar. he was foremost at all races and cock fights;and, with the ascendancy which bodily strength always acquires in rusticlife, was the umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side,and giving his decisions with an air and tone that admitted of no gainsayor appeal. he was always ready for either a fight or a frolic; buthad more mischief than ill-will in his composition; and with allhis overbearing roughness,
there was a strong dash of waggish good humorat bottom. he had three or four boon companions, who regarded him astheir model, and at the head of whom he scoured the country, attendingevery scene of feud or merriment for miles round. in cold weatherhe was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox'stail; and when the folks at a country gathering descried this well-knowncrest at a distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they alwaysstood by for a squall. sometimes his crew would be heard dashingalong past the farmhouses at midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troopof don cossacks; and the
old dames, startled out of their sleep, wouldlisten for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and thenexclaim, "ay, there goes brom bones and his gang!" the neighbors lookedupon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and good-will; and, whenany madcap prank or rustic brawl occurred in the vicinity, always shooktheir heads, and warranted brom bones was at the bottom of it. this rantipole hero had for some time singledout the blooming katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries,and though his amorous toyings were something like the gentle caressesand endearments of a
bear, yet it was whispered that she did notaltogether discourage his hopes. certain it is, his advances were signalsfor rival candidates to retire, who felt no inclination to cross alion in his amours; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to van tassel'spaling, on a sunday night, a sure sign that his master was courting,or, as it is termed, "sparking," within, all other suitors passedby in despair, and carried the war into other quarters. such was the formidable rival with whom ichabodcrane had to contend, and, considering all things, a stouter manthan he would have shrunk
from the competition, and a wiser man wouldhave despaired. he had, however, a happy mixture of pliability andperseverance in his nature; he was in form and spirit like a supple-jack--yielding,but tough; though he bent, he never broke; and thoughhe bowed beneath the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it wasaway--jerk!--he was as erect, and carried his head as high as ever. to have taken the field openly against hisrival would have been madness; for he was not a man to be thwartedin his amours, any more than that stormy lover, achilles. ichabod,therefore, made his advances
in a quiet and gently insinuating manner.under cover of his character of singing-master, he made frequent visitsat the farmhouse; not that he had anything to apprehend from the meddlesomeinterference of parents, which is so often a stumbling-block in thepath of lovers. balt van tassel was an easy indulgent soul; he lovedhis daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable manand an excellent father, let her have her way in everything. his notablelittle wife, too, had enough to do to attend to her housekeeping and manageher poultry; for, as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are foolishthings, and must be looked
after, but girls can take care of themselves.thus, while the busy dame bustled about the house, or plied her spinning-wheelat one end of the piazza, honest balt would sit smoking hisevening pipe at the other, watching the achievements of a little woodenwarrior, who, armed with a sword in each hand, was most valiantly fightingthe wind on the pinnacle of the barn. in the mean time, ichabod wouldcarry on his suit with the daughter by the side of the spring under thegreat elm, or sauntering along in the twilight, that hour so favorableto the lover's eloquence. i profess not to know how women's hearts arewooed and won. to me they
have always been matters of riddle and admiration.some seem to have but one vulnerable point, or door of access; whileothers have a thousand avenues, and may be captured in a thousanddifferent ways. it is a great triumph of skill to gain the former,but a still greater proof of generalship to maintain possession of thelatter, for man must battle for his fortress at every door and window.he who wins a thousand common hearts is therefore entitled to some renown;but he who keeps undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette is indeeda hero. certain it is, this was not the case with the redoubtable brombones; and from the moment
ichabod crane made his advances, the interestsof the former evidently declined: his horse was no longer seen tiedto the palings on sunday nights, and a deadly feud gradually arosebetween him and the preceptor of sleepy hollow. brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry inhis nature, would fain have carried matters to open warfare and have settledtheir pretensions to the lady, according to the mode of thosemost concise and simple reasoners, the knights-errant of yore,--bysingle combat; but ichabod was too conscious of the superior might ofhis adversary to enter the
lists against him; he had overheard a boastof bones, that he would "double the schoolmaster up, and lay him ona shelf of his own schoolhouse;" and he was too wary to givehim an opportunity. there was something extremely provoking in this obstinatelypacific system; it left brom no alternative but to draw uponthe funds of rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play off boorish practicaljokes upon his rival. ichabod became the object of whimsical persecutionto bones and his gang of rough riders. they harried his hithertopeaceful domains; smoked out his singing school by stopping up thechimney; broke into the
schoolhouse at night, in spite of its formidablefastenings of withe and window stakes, and turned everything topsy-turvy,so that the poor schoolmaster began to think all the witchesin the country held their meetings there. but what was still moreannoying, brom took all opportunities of turning him into ridiculein presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom he taught towhine in the most ludicrous manner, and introduced as a rival of ichabod's,to instruct her in psalmody. in this way matters went on for some time,without producing any
material effect on the relative situationsof the contending powers. on a fine autumnal afternoon, ichabod, in pensivemood, sat enthroned on the lofty stool from whence he usually watchedall the concerns of his little literary realm. in his hand he swayeda ferule, that sceptre of despotic power; the birch of justice reposedon three nails behind the throne, a constant terror to evil doers, whileon the desk before him might be seen sundry contraband articlesand prohibited weapons, detected upon the persons of idle urchins,such as half-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and wholelegions of rampant little
paper gamecocks. apparently there had beensome appalling act of justice recently inflicted, for his scholars wereall busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering behind them withone eye kept upon the master; and a kind of buzzing stillness reignedthroughout the schoolroom. it was suddenly interrupted bythe appearance of a negro in tow-cloth jacket and trowsers, a round-crownedfragment of a hat, like the cap of mercury, and mounted on theback of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he managed with arope by way of halter. he came clattering up to the school door with an invitationto ichabod to attend
a merry-making or "quilting frolic," to beheld that evening at mynheer van tassel's; and having deliveredhis message with that air of importance, and effort at fine language, whicha negro is apt to display on petty embassies of the kind, he dashedover the brook, and was seen scampering away up the hollow, full of theimportance and hurry of his mission. all was now bustle and hubbub in the latequiet schoolroom. the scholars were hurried through their lessons withoutstopping at trifles; those who were nimble skipped over half with impunity,and those who were
tardy had a smart application now and thenin the rear, to quicken their speed or help them over a tall word. bookswere flung aside without being put away on the shelves, inkstands wereoverturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was turned loosean hour before the usual time, bursting forth like a legion of youngimps, yelping and racketing about the green in joy at their early emancipation. the gallant ichabod now spent at least anextra half hour at his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeedonly suit of rusty black, and arranging his locks by a bit ofbroken looking-glass that
hung up in the schoolhouse. that he mightmake his appearance before his mistress in the true style of a cavalier,he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was domiciliated, a cholericold dutchman of the name of hans van ripper, and, thus gallantlymounted, issued forth like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. butit is meet i should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give someaccount of the looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. theanimal he bestrode was a broken-down plow-horse, that had outlivedalmost everything but its viciousness. he was gaunt and shagged, witha ewe neck, and a head like
a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangledand knotted with burs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaringand spectral, but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. stillhe must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from thename he bore of gunpowder. he had, in fact, been a favorite steed ofhis master's, the choleric van ripper, who was a furious rider, and had infused,very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal; for, old andbroken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in himthan in any young filly in the country.
ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed.he rode with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly upto the pommel of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers';he carried his whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a sceptre,and as his horse jogged on, the motion of his arms was not unlike theflapping of a pair of wings. a small wool hat rested on the top of his nose,for so his scanty strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts ofhis black coat fluttered out almost to the horses tail. such was the appearanceof ichabod and his steed as they shambled out of the gate ofhans van ripper, and it was
altogether such an apparition as is seldomto be met with in broad daylight. it was, as i have said, a fine autumnal day;the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and goldenlivery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. theforests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of thetenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange,purple, and scarlet. streaming files of wild ducks began to maketheir appearance high in the air; the bark of the squirrel might be heardfrom the groves of beech
and hickory-nuts, and the pensive whistleof the quail at intervals from the neighboring stubble field. the small birds were taking their farewellbanquets. in the fullness of their revelry, they fluttered, chirpingand frolicking from bush to bush, and tree to tree, capricious from thevery profusion and variety around them. there was the honest cock robin,the favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud querulousnote; and the twittering blackbirds flying in sable clouds; and thegolden-winged woodpecker with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget,and splendid plumage; and the
cedar bird, with its red-tipt wings and yellow-tipttail and its little monteiro cap of feathers; and the blue jay,that noisy coxcomb, in his gay light blue coat and white underclothes,screaming and chattering, nodding and bobbing and bowing, and pretendingto be on good terms with every songster of the grove. as ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye,ever open to every symptom of culinary abundance, ranged with delightover the treasures of jolly autumn. on all sides he beheld vast storeof apples; some hanging in oppressive opulence on the trees; some gatheredinto baskets and barrels
for the market; others heaped up in rich pilesfor the cider-press. farther on he beheld great fields of indiancorn, with its golden ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holdingout the promise of cakes and hasty-pudding; and the yellow pumpkinslying beneath them, turning up their fair round bellies to the sun, andgiving ample prospects of the most luxurious of pies; and anon he passedthe fragrant buckwheat fields breathing the odor of the beehive,and as he beheld them, soft anticipations stole over his mind of daintyslapjacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey or treacle, by thedelicate little dimpled hand
of katrina van tassel. thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughtsand "sugared suppositions," he journeyed along the sidesof a range of hills which look out upon some of the goodliest scenesof the mighty hudson. the sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down in thewest. the wide bosom of the tappan zee lay motionless and glassy, exceptingthat here and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged theblue shadow of the distant mountain. a few amber clouds floated in thesky, without a breath of air to move them. the horizon was of a fine goldentint, changing gradually
into a pure apple green, and from that intothe deep blue of the mid-heaven. a slanting ray lingered on thewoody crests of the precipices that overhung some parts of theriver, giving greater depth to the dark gray and purple of their rockysides. a sloop was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down withthe tide, her sail hanging uselessly against the mast; and as the reflectionof the sky gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if thevessel was suspended in the air. it was toward evening that ichabod arrivedat the castle of the heer
van tassel, which he found thronged with thepride and flower of the adjacent country. old farmers, a spare leathern-facedrace, in homespun coats and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes,and magnificent pewter buckles. their brisk, withered little dames,in close-crimped caps, long-waisted short gowns, homespun petticoats,with scissors and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hangingon the outside. buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers,excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock,gave symptoms of city innovation. the sons, in short square-skirtedcoats, with rows of
stupendous brass buttons, and their hair generallyqueued in the fashion of the times, especially if they could procurean eel-skin for the purpose, it being esteemed throughout thecountry as a potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair. brom bones, however, was the hero of the scene,having come to the gathering on his favorite steed daredevil,a creature, like himself, full of mettle and mischief, and which noone but himself could manage. he was, in fact, noted for preferring viciousanimals, given to all kinds of tricks which kept the rider in constantrisk of his neck, for
he held a tractable, well-broken horse asunworthy of a lad of spirit. fain would i pause to dwell upon the worldof charms that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he enteredthe state parlor of van tassel's mansion. not those of the bevy ofbuxom lasses, with their luxurious display of red and white; but theample charms of a genuine dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuoustime of autumn. such heaped up platters of cakes of various and almost indescribablekinds, known only to experienced dutch housewives! there wasthe doughty doughnut, the tender oly koek, and the crisp and crumblingcruller; sweet cakes and
short cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes,and the whole family of cakes. and then there were apple pies, andpeach pies, and pumpkin pies; besides slices of ham and smoked beef; andmoreover delectable dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears,and quinces; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens; togetherwith bowls of milk and cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, prettymuch as i have enumerated them, with the motherly teapot sending upits clouds of vapor from the midst--heaven bless the mark! i want breathand time to discuss this banquet as it deserves, and am too eager toget on with my story.
happily, ichabod crane was not in so greata hurry as his historian, but did ample justice to every dainty. he was a kind and thankful creature, whoseheart dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer, andwhose spirits rose with eating, as some men's do with drink. he couldnot help, too, rolling his large eyes round him as he ate, and chucklingwith the possibility that he might one day be lord of all this sceneof almost unimaginable luxury and splendor. then, he thought, how soon he'dturn his back upon the old schoolhouse; snap his fingers in the faceof hans van ripper, and every
other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerantpedagogue out of doors that should dare to call him comrade! old baltus van tassel moved about among hisguests with a face dilated with content and good humor, round and jollyas the harvest moon. his hospitable attentions were brief, but expressive,being confined to a shake of the hand, a slap on the shoulder,a loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to "fall to, and help themselves." and now the sound of the music from the commonroom, or hall, summoned to the dance. the musician was an old gray-headednegro, who had
been the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhoodfor more than half a century. his instrument was as old and batteredas himself. the greater part of the time he scraped on two or threestrings, accompanying every movement of the bow with a motion of the head;bowing almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot whenevera fresh couple were to start. ichabod prided himself upon his dancing asmuch as upon his vocal powers. not a limb, not a fibre about himwas idle; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full motion, and clatteringabout the room, you
would have thought st. vitus himself, thatblessed patron of the dance, was figuring before you in person. he wasthe admiration of all the negroes; who, having gathered, of all agesand sizes, from the farm and the neighborhood, stood forming a pyramidof shining black faces at every door and window, gazing with delightat the scene, rolling their white eyeballs, and showing grinning rowsof ivory from ear to ear. how could the flogger of urchins be otherwisethan animated and joyous? the lady of his heart was his partner in the dance,and smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings; whilebrom bones, sorely smitten
with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himselfin one corner. when the dance was at an end, ichabod wasattracted to a knot of the sager folks, who, with old van tassel, satsmoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former times, and drawingout long stories about the war. this neighborhood, at the time of which iam speaking, was one of those highly favored places which abound with chronicleand great men. the british and american line had run near itduring the war; it had, therefore, been the scene of marauding andinfested with refugees,
cowboys, and all kinds of border chivalry.just sufficient time had elapsed to enable each storyteller to dressup his tale with a little becoming fiction, and, in the indistinctnessof his recollection, to make himself the hero of every exploit. there was the story of doffue martling, alarge blue-bearded dutchman, who had nearly taken a british frigate withan old iron nine-pounder from a mud breastwork, only that his gun burstat the sixth discharge. and there was an old gentleman who shall benameless, being too rich a mynheer to be lightly mentioned, who, inthe battle of white plains,
being an excellent master of defence, parrieda musket-ball with a small sword, insomuch that he absolutely felt itwhiz round the blade, and glance off at the hilt; in proof of whichhe was ready at any time to show the sword, with the hilt a little bent.there were several more that had been equally great in the field,not one of whom but was persuaded that he had a considerable handin bringing the war to a happy termination. but all these were nothing to the tales ofghosts and apparitions that succeeded. the neighborhood is rich in legendarytreasures of the
kind. local tales and superstitions thrivebest in these sheltered, long-settled retreats; but are trampled underfoot by the shifting throng that forms the population of most ofour country places. besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts in mostof our villages, for they have scarcely had time to finish their firstnap and turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friendshave travelled away from the neighborhood; so that when they turn outat night to walk their rounds, they have no acquaintance left tocall upon. this is perhaps the reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts exceptin our long-established
dutch communities. the immediate cause, however, of the prevalenceof supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to thevicinity of sleepy hollow. there was a contagion in the very air thatblew from that haunted region; it breathed forth an atmosphere ofdreams and fancies infecting all the land. several of the sleepy hollowpeople were present at van tassel's, and, as usual, were doling outtheir wild and wonderful legends. many dismal tales were told aboutfuneral trains, and mourning cries and wailings heard and seen about thegreat tree where the
unfortunate major andrã© was taken, and whichstood in the neighborhood. some mention was made also of the woman inwhite, that haunted the dark glen at raven rock, and was often heardto shriek on winter nights before a storm, having perished there in thesnow. the chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favoritespectre of sleepy hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard severaltimes of late, patrolling the country; and, it was said, tethered hishorse nightly among the graves in the churchyard. the sequestered situation of this church seemsalways to have made it a
favorite haunt of troubled spirits. it standson a knoll, surrounded by locust-trees and lofty elms, from among whichits decent, whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like christianpurity beaming through the shades of retirement. a gentle slope descendsfrom it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, betweenwhich, peeps may be caught at the blue hills of the hudson. to look uponits grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, onewould think that there at least the dead might rest in peace. on oneside of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a largebrook among broken rocks and
trunks of fallen trees. over a deep blackpart of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a woodenbridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thicklyshaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime;but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. such was one ofthe favorite haunts of the headless horseman, and the place wherehe was most frequently encountered. the tale was told of old brouwer,a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the horsemanreturning from his foray into sleepy hollow, and was obliged to getup behind him; how they
galloped over bush and brake, over hill andswamp, until they reached the bridge; when the horseman suddenly turnedinto a skeleton, threw old brouwer into the brook, and sprang away overthe tree-tops with a clap of thunder. this story was immediately matched by a thricemarvellous adventure of brom bones, who made light of the gallopinghessian as an arrant jockey. he affirmed that on returning one night fromthe neighboring village of sing sing, he had been overtaken by this midnighttrooper; that he had offered to race with him for a bowl of punch,and should have won it
too, for daredevil beat the goblin horse allhollow, but just as they came to the church bridge, the hessian bolted,and vanished in a flash of fire. all these tales, told in that drowsy undertonewith which men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listenersonly now and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sankdeep in the mind of ichabod. he repaid them in kind with largeextracts from his invaluable author, cotton mather, and added many marvellousevents that had taken place in his native state of connecticut,and fearful sights which he
had seen in his nightly walks about sleepyhollow. the revel now gradually broke up. the oldfarmers gathered together their families in their wagons, and were heardfor some time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the distanthills. some of the damsels mounted on pillions behind their favoriteswains, and their light-hearted laughter, mingling with theclatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, sounding fainter andfainter, until they gradually died away,--and the late scene of noise andfrolic was all silent and deserted. ichabod only lingered behind, accordingto the custom of
country lovers, to have a tãªte-ã -tãªte withthe heiress; fully convinced that he was now on the high road to success.what passed at this interview i will not pretend to say, for infact i do not know. something, however, i fear me, must have gonewrong, for he certainly sallied forth, after no very great interval,with an air quite desolate and chapfallen. oh, these women! these women!could that girl have been playing off any of her coquettish tricks?was her encouragement of the poor pedagogue all a mere sham to secure herconquest of his rival? heaven only knows, not i! let it suffice tosay, ichabod stole forth
with the air of one who had been sacking ahenroost, rather than a fair lady's heart. without looking to the rightor left to notice the scene of rural wealth, on which he had so oftengloated, he went straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffsand kicks roused his steed most uncourteously from the comfortable quartersin which he was soundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn andoats, and whole valleys of timothy and clover. it was the very witching time of night thatichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his travels homewards,along the sides of the
lofty hills which rise above tarry town, andwhich he had traversed so cheerily in the afternoon. the hour was asdismal as himself. far below him the tappan zee spread its dusky and indistinctwaste of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, ridingquietly at anchor under the land. in the dead hush of midnight, hecould even hear the barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore ofthe hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an ideaof his distance from this faithful companion of man. now and then, too,the long-drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would soundfar, far off, from some
farmhouse away among the hills--but it waslike a dreaming sound in his ear. no signs of life occurred near him, butoccasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the gutturaltwang of a bullfrog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortablyand turning suddenly in his bed. all the stories of ghosts and goblins thathe had heard in the afternoon now came crowding upon his recollection. thenight grew darker and darker; the stars seemed to sink deeper inthe sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. he hadnever felt so lonely and
dismal. he was, moreover, approaching thevery place where many of the scenes of the ghost stories had been laid.in the centre of the road stood an enormous tulip-tree, which toweredlike a giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood, and formeda kind of landmark. its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enoughto form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to theearth, and rising again into the air. it was connected with the tragicalstory of the unfortunate andrã©, who had been taken prisoner hard by;and was universally known by the name of major andrã©'s tree. the commonpeople regarded it with a
mixture of respect and superstition, partlyout of sympathy for the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partlyfrom the tales of strange sights, and doleful lamentations, told concerningit. as ichabod approached this fearful tree, hebegan to whistle; he thought his whistle was answered; it was but a blastsweeping sharply through the dry branches. as he approached a littlenearer, he thought he saw something white, hanging in the midst of thetree: he paused and ceased whistling but, on looking more narrowly, perceivedthat it was a place where the tree had been scathed by lightning,and the white wood laid
bare. suddenly he heard a groan--his teethchattered, and his knees smote against the saddle: it was but the rubbingof one huge bough upon another, as they were swayed about by thebreeze. he passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. about two hundred yards from the tree, a smallbrook crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly-wooded glen,known by the name of wiley's swamp. a few rough logs, laid sideby side, served for a bridge over this stream. on that side of the roadwhere the brook entered the wood, a group of oaks and chestnuts, mattedthick with wild grape-vines,
threw a cavernous gloom over it. to pass thisbridge was the severest trial. it was at this identical spot thatthe unfortunate andrã© was captured, and under the covert of those chestnutsand vines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised him.this has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful arethe feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark. as he approached the stream, his heart beganto thump; he summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horsehalf a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly acrossthe bridge; but instead of
starting forward, the perverse old animalmade a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. ichabod,whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side,and kicked lustily with the contrary foot: it was all in vain; his steedstarted, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite sideof the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes. the schoolmasternow bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old gunpowder,who dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a standjust by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly sent his ridersprawling over his head.
just at this moment a plashy tramp by theside of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of ichabod. in the dark shadowof the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapenand towering. it stirred not, but seemed gathered up in thegloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller. the hair of the affrighted pedagogue roseupon his head with terror. what was to be done? to turn and fly was nowtoo late; and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost orgoblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind? summoningup, therefore, a
show of courage, he demanded in stammeringaccents, "who are you?" he received no reply. he repeated his demandin a still more agitated voice. still there was no answer. once morehe cudgelled the sides of the inflexible gunpowder, and, shuttinghis eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. justthen the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a scrambleand a bound stood at once in the middle of the road. though thenight was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now in somedegree be ascertained. he appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions,and mounted on a black
horse of powerful frame. he made no offerof molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, joggingalong on the blind side of old gunpowder, who had now got over hisfright and waywardness. ichabod, who had no relish for this strangemidnight companion, and bethought himself of the adventure of brombones with the galloping hessian, now quickened his steed in hopesof leaving him behind. the stranger, however, quickened his horse toan equal pace. ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lagbehind,--the other did the same. his heart began to sink within him;he endeavored to resume his
psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove tothe roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave. there was somethingin the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companionthat was mysterious and appalling. it was soon fearfully accountedfor. on mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-travellerin relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffledin a cloak, ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless!--buthis horror was still more increased on observing that thehead, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried beforehim on the pommel of his
saddle! his terror rose to desperation; herained a shower of kicks and blows upon gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movementto give his companion the slip; but the spectre started full jumpwith him. away, then, they dashed through thick and thin; stones flyingand sparks flashing at every bound. ichabod's flimsy garments flutteredin the air, as he stretched his long lank body away overhis horse's head, in the eagerness of his flight. they had now reached the road which turnsoff to sleepy hollow; but gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon,instead of keeping up it,
made an opposite turn, and plunged headlongdownhill to the left. this road leads through a sandy hollow shaded bytrees for about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famousin goblin story; and just beyond swells the green knoll on which standsthe whitewashed church. as yet the panic of the steed had given hisunskilful rider an apparent advantage in the chase, but just as he hadgot half way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way,and he felt it slipping from under him. he seized it by the pommel, andendeavored to hold it firm, but in vain; and had just time to save himselfby clasping old gunpowder
round the neck, when the saddle fell to theearth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. for amoment the terror of hans van ripper's wrath passed across his mind,--forit was his sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; thegoblin was hard on his haunches; and (unskilful rider that he was!)he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side,sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of hishorse's backbone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleavehim asunder. an opening in the trees now cheered him withthe hopes that the church
bridge was at hand. the wavering reflectionof a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was notmistaken. he saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the treesbeyond. he recollected the place where brom bones's ghostly competitorhad disappeared. "if i can but reach that bridge," thought ichabod, "iam safe." just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing closebehind him; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. another convulsivekick in the ribs, and old gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thunderedover the resounding planks; he gained the opposite side; and nowichabod cast a look behind
to see if his pursuer should vanish, accordingto rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. just then he saw the goblinrising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head athim. ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late.it encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash,--he was tumbled headlonginto the dust, and gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblinrider, passed by like a whirlwind. the next morning the old horse was found withouthis saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly croppingthe grass at his master's
gate. ichabod did not make his appearanceat breakfast; dinner-hour came, but no ichabod. the boys assembled atthe schoolhouse, and strolled idly about the banks of the brook;but no schoolmaster. hans van ripper now began to feel some uneasinessabout the fate of poor ichabod, and his saddle. an inquiry was seton foot, and after diligent investigation they came upon his traces. inone part of the road leading to the church was found the saddle trampledin the dirt; the tracks of horses' hoofs deeply dented in the road, andevidently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, onthe bank of a broad part of
the brook, where the water ran deep and black,was found the hat of the unfortunate ichabod, and close beside it ashattered pumpkin. the brook was searched, but the body of theschoolmaster was not to be discovered. hans van ripper as executorof his estate, examined the bundle which contained all his worldly effects.they consisted of two shirts and a half; two stocks for the neck;a pair or two of worsted stockings; an old pair of corduroy small-clothes;a rusty razor; a book of psalm tunes full of dog's-ears; and a brokenpitch-pipe. as to the books and furniture of the schoolhouse, theybelonged to the community,
excepting cotton mather's "history of witchcraft,"a "new england almanac," and a book of dreams and fortune-telling;in which last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blottedin several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in honorof the heiress of van tassel. these magic books and the poetic scrawl wereforthwith consigned to the flames by hans van ripper; who, from thattime forward, determined to send his children no more to school, observingthat he never knew any good come of this same reading and writing.whatever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he had receivedhis quarter's pay but a
day or two before, he must have had abouthis person at the time of his disappearance. the mysterious event caused much speculationat the church on the following sunday. knots of gazers and gossipswere collected in the churchyard, at the bridge, and at the spotwhere the hat and pumpkin had been found. the stories of brouwer, ofbones, and a whole budget of others were called to mind; and when theyhad diligently considered them all, and compared them with the symptoms ofthe present case, they shook their heads, and came to the conclusion thatichabod had been carried
off by the galloping hessian. as he was abachelor, and in nobody's debt, nobody troubled his head any more abouthim; the school was removed to a different quarter of the hollow,and another pedagogue reigned in his stead. it is true, an old farmer, who had been downto new york on a visit several years after, and from whom this accountof the ghostly adventure was received, brought home the intelligencethat ichabod crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood partlythrough fear of the goblin and hans van ripper, and partly inmortification at having been
suddenly dismissed by the heiress; that hehad changed his quarters to a distant part of the country; had kept schooland studied law at the same time; had been admitted to the bar; turnedpolitician; electioneered; written for the newspapers; and finally hadbeen made a justice of the ten pound court. brom bones, too, who,shortly after his rival's disappearance conducted the blooming katrinain triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly knowing wheneverthe story of ichabod was related, and always burst into a heartylaugh at the mention of the pumpkin; which led some to suspect that heknew more about the matter
than he chose to tell. the old country wives, however, who are thebest judges of these matters, maintain to this day that ichabodwas spirited away by supernatural means; and it is a favorite storyoften told about the neighborhood round the winter evening fire.the bridge became more than ever an object of superstitious awe; and thatmay be the reason why the road has been altered of late years, so asto approach the church by the border of the millpond. the schoolhousebeing deserted soon fell to decay, and was reported to be haunted by theghost of the unfortunate
pedagogue and the plowboy, loitering homewardof a still summer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance,chanting a melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil solitudes of sleepyhollow. postscript. found in the handwriting of mr. knickerbocker. the preceding tale is given almost in theprecise words in which i heard it related at a corporation meetingat the ancient city of manhattoes, at which were present many ofits sagest and most illustrious burghers. the narrator was a pleasant,shabby, gentlemanly
old fellow, in pepper-and-salt clothes, witha sadly humourous face, and one whom i strongly suspected of beingpoor--he made such efforts to be entertaining. when his story was concluded,there was much laughter and approbation, particularly fromtwo or three deputy aldermen, who had been asleep the greaterpart of the time. there was, however, one tall, dry-looking old gentleman,with beetling eyebrows, who maintained a grave and rather severe facethroughout, now and then folding his arms, inclining his head, andlooking down upon the floor, as if turning a doubt over in his mind. hewas one of your wary men,
who never laugh but upon good grounds--whenthey have reason and law on their side. when the mirth of the rest ofthe company had subsided, and silence was restored, he leaned one arm onthe elbow of his chair, and sticking the other akimbo, demanded, witha slight, but exceedingly sage motion of the head, and contraction ofthe brow, what was the moral of the story, and what it went to prove? the story-teller, who was just putting a glassof wine to his lips, as a refreshment after his toils, paused fora moment, looked at his inquirer with an air of infinite deference,and, lowering the glass
slowly to the table, observed that the storywas intended most logically to prove-- "that there is no situation in life but hasits advantages and pleasures--provided we will but take a jokeas we find it: "that, therefore, he that runs races withgoblin troopers is likely to have rough riding of it. "ergo, for a country schoolmaster to be refusedthe hand of a dutch heiress is a certain step to high prefermentin the state." the cautious old gentleman knit his browstenfold closer after this
explanation, being sorely puzzled by the ratiocinationof the syllogism, while, methought, the one in pepper-and-salteyed him with something of a triumphant leer. at lengthhe observed that all this was very well, but still he thought the storya little on the extravagant--there were one or two pointson which he had his doubts. "faith, sir," replied the story-teller, "asto that matter, i don't believe one-half of it myself." d. k. the end.