The Tale of Sleepy Hollow: Difference between revisions
no edit summary
mNo edit summary
No edit summary
The small birds were having hir farewell simbels. In the fullness of hir merrimake, hy fluttered, chirping and playing from shrub to shrub, and tree to tree, whimsy only from the fulth and sundry abute hem. There was the good cock ruddock, the darling game of the yong hunter, with its lude cwavering pich; and the twittering blackbirds flying in cludes of bleck; and the golden fithered woodpecker with his bloodred cop, his broad black halse, and thromly feathers; and the chedderbird, with its redtipt fithers and yellowtipt tail and its littel hunting cap of feathers; and the hewnbird, that lude coxcomb, in his winful light hewn hackel and white underclothes, shreeing and chattering, nodding and bobbing and buing, and lichetting to be in good standing with every songster of the grove.
As Ickabod went slowly on his way, his eye, ever open to every token of foodfulth, flew with win over the sink of merry harvest. On all sides he beheld a great stock of appels; sum hanging in sweer wealth on the trees; sum gathered into leeps and biddens for cheapstow; others drawn up in rich heaps for the wring. Farther on he beheld great feelds of Indish corn, with its golden ears peeping from hir leafy shelter, and holding ute the dream of kiches and oatmeal; and the yellow
Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and “sweetened weenings,” he fared along the sides of a row of hills which look ute on sum of the goodliest sights of the mighty Hudson. The sun stepwise wheeled his broad shive dune in the west. The wide bosom of the Tappan Zee lay still and glassy, but that here and there a soft shrithing waved and lengthened the farlen barrows hewn shadow. A few elksand cludes floated in the heavens, withute a breath of lift to blow hem. The liftline was a good golden hew, wending stepwise into a lutter appel green, and from that into the deep hewn of the midheaven. A sloping beam tarried on the woody ridges of the cliffs that overhanged sum deals of the ea, yeaving greater depth to the dark grey and welkred of hir stony sides. A sloop was tarrying far off, dropping slowly dune with the tide, her sail hanging bootlessly ayenst the mast; and as the glass of the heavens gleamed along the still water, it looked as if the ship was seemed in the lift.
Brom Bones, huever, was the heleth of the setting, having cum to the gathering on his darling steed Daredevil, a wight, like himself, full of dught and play, and which no man but himself cud stightel. He was, in sooth, marked for choosing reeth deer, yeaven to all kinds of prats which kept the rider in unending plee of his neck, for he held a yeelding, wellbroken horse as unworthy of a man of fire.
Fain wud I stall to dwell on the world of spells that burst on the bewiched stare of my heleth, as he infared the hend foreroom of Van Tassels bold. Not those of the set of buxom maids, with hir wunderful showing of red and white; but the mighty spells of a trew Duch upland teabeed, in the smacksum time of harvest. Such heaped up dishes of kiches of sundry and almost untellenly kinds, known only to fulfledged Duch husewives! There was the dughty doughnut, the nesh ''oly koek'', and the brittel and crumbelling ''cruller''; sweet kiches and short kiches, inver kiches and honey kiches, the whole maith of kiches. And then there were appel bakes, and persock bakes, and
He was a kind and thankful wight, whose heart widened in deal as his body was filled with good mirth, and whose goast rose with eating, as sum weres rise with drink. He cud not help too, wharving his great eyes umb him as he ate, and chuckeling with the mightlihood that he one day be lord of all this setting of almost unfathomenly throm and torghtness. Then, he thought, hu soon he wud wend his back on the old lorehuse; snap his fingers in the anlet of Hans Van Ripper, and every other gneed huser, and kick any wandering teacher ute of doors that shud dare to name him frend!
An opening in the trees nu chirked him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering glass of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was not misnimmen. He saw the walls of the church dimly gleaming under the trees beyond. He mimmered the stead where Brom Boneses goastly foe had swinded. “If I can but reach that bridge,” thought Ickabod, “I am sund.” Right then he heard the black steed orthing and blowing nigh behind him; he even fathomed that he felt his hot breath. Another fitful kick in the ribs, and old Gundust sprang onto the bridge; he thundered over the clattering thills; he raught the wither side; and nu Ickabod threw a look behind to see if his hunter shud swind, as was wont, in a leem of fire and brimstone. Right then he saw the puck rising in his stirrups, and in the deed itself of reeling his head at him. Ickabod fanded to ward off the eyful flone, but too late. It met his head with a great thud,—he was tumbelled headlong into the dust, and Gundust, the black steed, and the puck rider, went by like a thode.
The next morning the old horse was fund withute his saddel, and with the bridel under his feet, coolly cropping the grass at his masters gate. Ickabod did not atew at breakfast; eveningtide came, but no Ickabod. The knaves gathered at the lorehuse, and walked idelly abute the banks of the brook; but no teacher. Hans Van Ripper nu began to feel sum uneath abute the orlay of arm Ickabod, and his saddel. A seeching was set abute on foot, and after an earnest stund hy came to his spores. In one deal of the road leading to the church was fund the saddel trodden into the earth; the loasts of horses hooves deeply thruched in the road, and suttelly at reeth speed, were followed to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of a broad deal of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was fund the hat of the wreched Ickabod, and nigh beside it a broken
The brook was seeched, but the body of the teacher was not to be fund. Hans Van Ripper as fulfiller of his things, smeyed the bundel which held all his worldaught. It was made up of two shirts and a half; two stocks for the neck; a set or two of worsted stockings; and old set of rugh smallclothes; a rusty shearsax; a book of salms full of dogears; and a broken pichpipe. As to the books and idish of the lorehuse, hy belonged to the tune, but for Cotton Mathers “Stear of Wichcraft,” a “New England Yearbook,” and a book of swevens and halsing; in which last was a leaf much written and smeared in many fands for naught to make a clove of ferses for the daughter of Van Tassel. These books of drycraft and the leeths were forthwith sent to the fire by Hans Van Ripper; who, from that time forward, chose to send his children no more to learn, saying that he never knew any good to cum of this ilk reading and writing. Whatever yeeld the teacher had, and he had fanged his forths yeeld but a day or two before, he must have had abute his body at the time of his swinding.
The runy befalling brought much weening at the church on the following Sunday. Knots of wachers and bisybodies were gathered in the churchyard, at the bridge, and at the stead where the hat and
It is trew, an old bure, who had been dune to New York many years after, and from whom this rake of the goastly rose was fanged, brought home the knowledge that Ickabod Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood in deal thrugh fear of the puck and Hans Van Ripper, and in deal in shame at having been swiftly spurned by the maiden; that he had shifted his steadings to a farlen deal of the rich; had bo taught and conned ea at onse; had becum a ewwit; then a weelder; ran for wicken; written for the tidings; and at last had been made a deemer of the Ten Pund Doomern. Brom Bones, too, who, shortly after his foes swinding led the blossoming Katrina siefast to the alter, was seen to look mighty knowing whenever Ickabods tale was told, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the nemmening of the
The old upland wives, huever, who are the best deemers of these things, hold to this day that Ickabod was born off in an eldrich way; and it is a darling tale often told thrughute the neighborhood abute the winter evening fire. The bridge became more than ever a thing of fearful ey; and that may be the grunds on which the road has been shifted of late years, so as to nigh the church by the edge of the millpond. The lorehuse being forsaken soon fell to rot, and was said to be inearded by the goast of the wreched teacher and the plughknave, tarrying homeward on a still summer evening, has often fathomed his steven far off, singing a sorrowful salm among the hoder stillness of Sleepy Hollow.