"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

In a cove on the eastern shore of the Hudson River lies the village of Tarrytown. Some two miles away is a little valley among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it with just murmur enough to lull one to sleep; and the occasional whistle of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, is perhaps the only sound which breaks the stillness.

This hidden glen is known as Sleepy Hollow. A drowsy, dreamy feeling hangs over the place. Some say an old Indian medicine man made magic there long, long ago. Certainly the place casts a spell over the minds of the people who live there.

The entire valley abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions. Here stars shoot and meteors glare more often than in any other part of the country, and sleepers are frequently troubled by nightmares.

Many ghosts are said to haunt this enchanted region and the best known of these is a headless man on horseback. He is reported to be the ghost of a Hessian soldier of the Revolutionary War, whose head was carried away by a cannonball in battle. Frightened travelers often see him hurrying along in the gloom of night, on the wings of the wind. He is known, at all country firesides, as the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

In an early period of American history, a pedagogue named Ichabod Crane came to live in Sleepy Hollow by way of Connecticut. The name Crane fit him very well. He was tall, but exceedingly skinny, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled far beyond his sleeves, and feet as big as shovels. His head was small, and flat on top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long nose. Striding along on a windy day, his clothes fluttering about him, he looked like a scarecrow escaped from a cornfield.

His schoolhouse was a low building of one large room that stood in a lonely but pleasant place, just at the foot of a woody hill. A huge tree gave it shade, and a brook ran alongside. Occasionally, the authoritative voice of the master and the appalling sound of the birch, could be heard as some tardy loiterer is encouraged along the flowery path of knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man, and ever bore in mind the golden maxim, "Spare the rod and spoil the child." Ichabod Crane's scholars certainly were not spoiled. Since teaching paid him just enough to live on and no more, he also picked up extra coins working as a singing master, instructing young folk in voice and music.

But for all his practical side, Ichabod Crane loved stories of monsters and marvels; and living in the spellbound region of Sleepy Hollow increased his interest in such stories. Often, after he dismissed his class in the afternoon, he stretched himself out on the clover bordering the little stream by his schoolhouse. Then he would read frightful tales, until the gathering dusk made reading impossible.

Afterward, as he returned through the woods to the farmhouse where he was staying, every sound excited his imagination. The moan of the whippoorwill, the boding cry of the tree toad, the dreary hooting of the screech owl -- all made him think of ghosts and evil spirits.

Ichabod also took fearful pleasure in spending long winter evenings with the old country wives as they sat spinning by the fire, while a row of apples roasted along the hearth. He listened eagerly to their tales of ghosts and goblin; of haunted fields, brooks, bridges, and houses; and particularly of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. But the very stories that brought him pleasure in snug rooms filled with the cozy glow of a crackling wood fire brought him terror on his walk home.

What fearful shapes and shadows he saw in the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night! How he was startled by a bush covered with snow that looked like a sheeted ghost! How a blast of wind, howling among the trees, made him think the Headless Horseman was galloping by!

These terrors of the night vanished at daybreak, when Ichabod gave his thoughts to other matters -- especially to Katrina Van Tassel. She was the only child of old Baltus Van Tassel, the richest farmer in the neighborhood.

Katrina was a blooming young woman of eighteen: plump as a partridge, ripe and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's peaches, and famed as much for her beauty as for the rich farmlands she would one day own. She was a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. Katrina knew that she was pretty, and she liked to catch the boys' eyes. Her short skirt showed the prettiest feet and ankles in the whole valley.

When Ichabod visited Van Tassel's farm to give Katrina her singing lesson, he would often pause and roll his eyes over the fertile meadows; the rich fields of grain and Indian corn and the orchard burdened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded the farmhouse. At such moments, he vowed to try even harder to win the affections of the beautiful Katrina.

At the time Ichabod became interested in Katrina, many young men were trying to win her. They watched each other carefully, and they were ready to fight together against any new fellow. Among these, the most formidable was a burly, roaring, boisterous blade of the name of Abraham, or according to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round. He was broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he had received the nickname of Brom Bones.

He was famous as a brave horseback rider and rode a steed appropriately named Daredevil. Brom was first at all races and was always ready for a fight, but he liked fun even more than a fight. Whenever any wild trick was played, everyone knew Brom was at the bottom of it. For some time, Brom had wanted to win Katrina. Whenever Brom's horse was outside Van Tassel's farmhouse, everyone else kept away.

Ichabod knew that to challenge such a rival would be mad, so he made extra visits to the farmhouse to instruct Katrina in her singing, chat with her father, and place himself in favor with them both.

Brom did not take kindly to Ichabod's instruction of Katrina. Although he would have preferred a good clean fight, Brom boasted to his gang of roughriders, "I'll fold the schoolmaster in half and tuck him on a shelf in his own schoolhouse."

Ichabod was far too careful to give him the chance, so Brom and his friends began playing awful tricks; smoking out Ichabod's singing class by stopping up the chimney, breaking into the schoolhouse at night and turning everything topsy-turvy, so that poor Ichabod thought witches had made mischief and even training Van Tassel's dog to whine when Ichabod gave Katrina singing lessons. Matters went on like this for quite some time.

One fine autumn afternoon, while Ichabod was reading to his class, a servant of old Van Tassel's knocked on the schoolhouse door.

"Yes, my good fellow?" asked Ichabod peering down his long nose at the man.

"My Master invites you to make merry with him at a quilting frolic this evening."

"Ah!" said Ichabod, delighted, sure that this was a sign of increased favor with the Van Tassel family. "And did Miss Katrina send a private message to me at the same time?"

"No, sir. Should she have?" asked the puzzled servant.

"Never mind, never mind," said Ichabod impatiently, shooing the man out the door.

Then he hurried through the day's lessons and dismissed class an hour early. He rushed back to his room to brush his best (and only) blue suit and arrange his hair by a bit of broken mirror.

He borrowed a horse named Gunpowder from a cross old Dutchman named Hans Van Ripper. The animal, though, was a broken down plough horse that had outlived almost everything but his viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a long neck and a head like a hammer. His rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burrs. One eye had lost its pupil and was glaring and spectral. The other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from the name he bore.

Ichabod rode with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like a grasshopper's; he carried his whip in his hand like a royal scepter. A small wool hat rested on top of his nose, because his forehead was so narrow, and the skirts of his blue coat fluttered out almost to Gunpowder's tail. As his horse jogged along, the motion of Ichabod's arms was like the flapping of a pair of wings. Still, in his mind, he saw himself as a valiant knight on a noble steed.

"Tonight," he announced to Gunpowder, "I am going to ask for the delicate hand of Katrina."

Gunpowder merely neighed.

It was early evening when Ichabod arrived at the Van Tassel farmhouse, which he found filled with neighbors from far and near. His arrival was overshadowed, however, by the arrival of Brom Bones. A famed horseman, Brom galloped up on his steed, Daredevil, a creature full of mischief, just like his master. Daredevil kicked up a cloud of dust that settled over Ichabod and his mount. Brushing himself off, Ichabod followed Brom to the door, where both were greeted by smiling old Baltus Van Tassel, who invited them to come in and help themselves.

Plenty of food waited for the Van Tassels' company. There were cakes of various and almost indescribable kinds. There was the doughty doughnut, the crisp and crumbling cruller; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes, and the whole family of cakes. And then there were apple pies and peach pies and pumpkin pies beside slices of ham and smoked beef. There were delectable dishes of preserved plums and peaches and pears and quinces; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens; together with bowls of milk and cream. Happily, Ichabod was not in a hurry. He took time to eat all that he could hold. His heart warmed with thanks as he filled himself with food. He smiled at the thought of owning all this someday, while observing Baltus Van Tassel moving about among the company. Ichabod's face was spread with joy and was as round as the full moon.

Then the musicians began to play. Ichabod was almost as proud of his dancing as of his singing. Katrina, the lady of his heart, danced with him and smiled in reply to all his smiles. Brom, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in one corner.

When the dance was at an end, Ichabod joined some of the guests who told stories about ghosts and the strange things people had seen and heard. Many people had heard terrible cries near the tree by the church where Major André had been captured. Some mention was made also of the woman in white who haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock and was often heard to shriek on winter nights before a storm, having perished there in the snow. The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite specter of Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman, who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the country; and, it was said, tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.

Old Brouwer, who did not believe in ghosts, said he had met the Horseman on his ride into Sleepy Hollow. This story was immediately matched by a marvelous adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the galloping Hessian as an arrant jockey.

"One night," he began, "while riding through the Hollow, I found I was being followed by the midnight soldier, who tried to ride me down."

"What happened then, dear Brom?" asked Katrina, hand at her throat.

"Why, Daredevil beat the goblin horse ahead in the race by the time we reached the old church bridge. The ghostly horse would not set hoof on it."

"What about the Horseman himself?" asked Ichabod, his own hand at his long throat. He had quite forgotten his rivalry with Brom in his eagerness to hear every detail of the man's story.

"Horse and rider vanished in a flash of fire, just as I reached the far side of the bridge," Brom replied.

"The ghost won't cross the old church bridge," said Ichabod thoughtfully. "I will remember that."

The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together their families in their wagons, and were heard for some time rattling along the hollow roads and over the distant hills. Some of the damsels sat behind their favorite swains, and their light-hearted laughter, mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, sounding fainter and fainter until they gradually died away. Only Ichabod lingered behind, according to the custom of country lovers, to have a tete-a-tete with Katrina, fully convinced that he was now on the high road to success. Something, however, must have gone wrong, for Ichabod sallied forth after no very great interval with an air quite desolate and chapfallen.

It was the witching time of night, and all the stories of ghosts and goblins Ichabod had heard earlier, especially Brom's account of the Headless Horseman, now came crowding into his memory.

The night seemed to grow darker and darker. The moon and stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky and driving clouds occasionally hid them from sight. Ichabod had never felt so lonely and dismal.

As he entered the haunted woods, where so many of the ghostly stories had been set, his heart began to thump. He tried to sing to comfort himself, but found his throat too dry to make a sound.

Ichabod used his riding crop to urge his horse to a brisker trot, but the contrary old animal, instead of going forward, made a sudden sideways move into the brush. Ichabod, whose fears increased with this delay, jerked on the reins and kicked the horse's flank. "Giddup, Gunpowder!" he rasped.

All in vain. Gunpowder lunged suddenly to the opposite side of the road and into a bramble thicket.

At that moment, the sound of a massive hoof striking a stone caught Ichabod's sensitive ear. In the dark shadows just behind him, Ichabod saw something huge, black, and misshapen.

The frightened teacher's hair stood on end. But he managed to summon up enough courage to stammer, "Who -- who are you?"

The figure did not answer.

Ichabod repeated, "Who are y-you?"

With a bound, the object of his fright moved suddenly closer into a patch of moonlight. Ichabod saw he was a horseman of impressive size, mounted on a powerful black horse.

He remembered the adventure of Brom Bones and urged Gunpowder forward with his crop once again. This time the horse began galloping ahead. The midnight stranger, however, followed at an equal pace. Ichabod prodded Gunpowder on, but the silent figure quickened his own horse's gait to keep up.

"Fly, Gunpowder!" yelled the schoolmaster, no longer able to control his fear. His shout so startled the horse that Gunpowder surged ahead with a clatter of hoof beats.

Behind, their pursuers matched them, hoof beats falling like a military march on the stony road. When they galloped over a hilltop, Ichabod dared to look back. As he did, the figure behind was framed against the sky. Horror-struck, Ichabod saw that the gigantic figure, muffled in a cloak, was headless! His terror reached beyond all bounds when he saw that the head was carried before the rider on the pommel of his saddle. In the moonlight, to Ichabod's mind, the ghastly pale head looked as swollen and orange and leering as a jack-o-lantern.

Ichabod rained a desperate shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, and away they dashed. Stones flew and sparks flashed at every bound. Ichabod's thin coat fluttered in the air as he stretched his long, thin body away over his horse's head in his eagerness to escape the ghost.

They soon reached the road that turned out of Sleepy Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed by a demon himself, suddenly made a wrong turn and plunged headlong downhill in the opposite direction. After a screech of terror, Ichabod realized there was still hope. They were now headed toward the old church bridge, and safety.

His steed's panic had kept Ichabod a hair's length ahead of his pursuer, but as they galloped into the shadow of the trees again, he felt the girths of his saddle give way. Then it began slipping from under him. He tried to hold it in place, but finally he had all he could do to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder around the neck while the saddle fell to the ground. A moment later, he heard it trampled under hoof by the dark horseman.

Ichabod, sometimes slipping to one side, sometimes to the other, and sometimes jolted painfully on the sharp ridge of his horse's backbone, could only hang on for dear life.

An opening in the trees showed the church bridge and the little whitewashed chapel beyond. "That's where Brom Bones escaped the ghost!" cried Ichabod. "If I can only cross that bridge, I'll be safe!"

He heard the black steed panting and snorting close behind him; he even thought he felt its hot breath blowing on him.

Ichabod gave a final kick, and old Gunpowder sprang onto the bridge, thundered over the planks, and gained the far side.

Only then did Ichabod look behind, expecting to see his pursuers vanish in a flash of fire. Instead... he saw the Headless Horseman seated firmly in his saddle, hurling his head at Ichabod. As bright as the moon, as orange as a pumpkin, as swift as a shooting star, the awful thing sailed across the brook straight toward the terrified schoolmaster.

Ichabod tried to duck the horrible missile -- but too late! It smacked into his own head with a tremendous CRASH! He was tumbled backward into the dust, while Gunpowder bolted in one direction and the black steed and its goblin rider vanished in the opposite direction like a whirlwind.

The next morning, old Gunpowder was found without his saddle, peacefully chewing grass at his master's gate. Later, the children assembled for class at the schoolhouse, but the schoolmaster never showed up.

On the road leading to the old church bridge, the missing saddle was found trampled in the dirt. The tracks of horses' hooves -- deeply gouged into the road, suggesting furious speed -- were traced to the bridge. Just beyond, on the bank of the brook below the chapel, searchers found Ichabod's hat and, close beside it, a shattered pumpkin.

The stream was searched, but no trace of the schoolmaster was ever discovered. This mysterious event was discussed at church on the following Sunday. People gathered in the churchyard at the bridge and shook their heads. It was decided that the Headless Horseman had taken Ichabod away.

However, an old farmer who visited New York several years later reported that Ichabod Crane was STILL alive, and had left the valley partly through fear of the ghost and partly because of Katrina's rejection.

Brom Bones, who shortly after his rival's disappearance conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin. This led some to suspect that he knew more about the matter than he chose to tell.

The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of these matters, maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited away by supernatural means. The schoolhouse being deserted soon fell to decay, and was reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate pedagogue. Others claim to have fancied his voice at a distance, chanting a melancholy tune among the tranquil solitude of Sleepy Hollow.

 

THE END

Vocabulary

 Reading Comprehension

1. Why did the settlers think Sleepy Hollow was haunted?

2. Ichabod Crane believed in the saying, "Spare the rod, and spoil the child." What does this saying mean? How do you think Ichabod disciplined his students?

 

3. How do the neighbors in Sleepy Hollow feel about Brom Bones? What clues support your answer?

 

4. Cite at least two examples of similes in the story.

 

5. Compare and contrast Ichabod Crane and Brom Bones.

 

6. Describe Ichabod's horse, Gunpowder.

 

7. Why did Ichabod fall in love with Katrina?

 

8. Do you think Baltus Van Tassel is a good host? Why or why not?

 

9. Why was Brom Bones standing in the corner pouting during the party?

 

10. What indications show Katrina rejected Ichabod's advances?

 

11. Why did Ichabod become fearful of traveling through the woods after the party?

 

12. Describe Ichabod's encounter with the Headless Horseman.

 

13. The people of Sleepy Hollow looked for clues to explain Ichabod's disappearance. One clue was the shattered pumpkin found next to his hat. What does this clue tell you about Ichabod's encounter with the Headless Horseman?

 

14. Why did many of the townspeople believe that the Headless Horseman had carried Ichabod away?

 

15. An old farmer claimed to have seen Ichabod in New York several years after his disappearance. The Dutch wives believed he was taken away by a supernatural being. What do you think happened to Ichabod? Explain your answer.