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The Tale of Sleepy Hollow: Difference between revisions

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I nemmen this frithful stow with all mightly loave, for it is in such littel swethered Duch deens, fund here and there inbosomed in the great Rich of New York, that leeds, sids, and wons are steady, while the great flood of fare and bisiness, which is making unending wends in other deals of this restless land, sweeps hem by unhowed. Hy are like those littel hirns of still water, which hem a swift stream, where we may see the straw and bubbel riding stilly at anker, or slowly wharving in hir littel harbor, unshaken by the rush of the nearby farth. Thaugh many years have gone by sinse I trod the drusy shades of Sleepy Hollow, I wonder yet whether I shud not still find the ilk trees and the ilk maiths idelling in its sheltered bosom.
In this bystow of kind there abode, in a farlen eld of Americkish yore, that is to say, sum thirty years sinse, a worthy wight by the name of Ickabod Crane, who abode, or, as he said it, “tarried,” in Sleepy Hollow, forthat he was teaching the children of the nearby land. He was born in Conneticket, a Rich which yares the Oning with grundbreakers for the mind as well as for the wold, and sends forth yearly its wereds of edgeland woodsmen and upland teachers. The toname of Crane was not unfitting to his ansen. He was tall, but fullmighty lank, with narrow sholders, long arms and shanks, hands that swung a mile ute of his sleeves, feet that might have worked as shovels, and his whole frame most woakly hangen together. His head was small, and flat at the top, with ettinish ears, great green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked as if a weathercock sat atop his spindel neck to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the ridge of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes swelling and fluttering abute him, man might have misnimmen him for dearth itself alighting on the earth, or sum shewel atwinded from a cornfeeld.
His lorehuse was a short bilding of one great room, rughly bilt of timbers; the eyedoors half glased, and half thached with leaves of old writingbooks. It was most cleverly sickered at empty times, by a withe twined in the handel of the door, and stakes set ayenst the eyedoor shutters; so that thaugh a theef might infare with greatest eath, he wud find sum shame in yetting ute,—a mark most likely borrowed by the crafter, Yost Van Houten, from the rune of an eelpot. The lorehuse stood in a rather lonely but cweem stead, right at the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running nearby, and a striking birch tree growing at one end of it. From hense the soft mumbel of his conners stevens, going over hir readings, might be heard on a drusy summers day, like the hum of a beehive, broken nu and then by the rixing steven of the master, in the pich of threat or bidding, or, maybe, by the eyful lude of the birch, as he shied sum latred tarrier along the blossomed path of knowledge. Trewth to say, he was an upright man, and ever bore in mind the golden saw, “Spare the rod and mar the child.” Ickabod Cranes conners soothly were not marred.
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