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The Tale of Sleepy Hollow: Difference between revisions

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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.
 
I wud not have it thought, huever, that he was one of those reeth leedhates of the lorehuse who nim win from the trey of hir learners; indeed, he yave rightwiseness with shrewdness rather than strength; nimming the birden from the backs of the woak, and laying it on those of the strong. The slight tiny littel knave, that cringed at the least brandishing of the rod, was let by; but the needs of rightwiseness were fulfilled by wreaking a twifold deal on sum littel tugh wughheaded, broadbottomed Duch chit, who brooded and swole and grew dogged and glum beneath the birch. All this he named “doing his wicken by hir kennends;” and he never wreaked a witeswing withute following it by the oath, so soothing to the smarting chit, that “he wud mun it and thank him for it the longest day he had to live.”
 
When learningtide was over, he was even the frend and playmone of the older knaves; and on holiday underns wud bear sum of the smaller ones home, who overly had pretty susters, or good husewives for mothers, marked for the cweems of the cupboard. Indeed, it behooved him to keep in good standing with his conners. The earnings arising from his lorehuse were small, and wud have been hardly enugh to aford him his daily bread, for he was a great feeder, and, thaugh lank, had the widening might of a pithon; but to help ute his upkeep, he was, as was wont in those lands, boarded and hused at the huses of the bures whose children he taught. With these he lived one after the other a week at a time, thus going all umb the neighborhood, with all his worldaught tied up in a woodwool handcloth.
As the bewiched Ickabod fathomed all this, and as he went his great green eyes over the fat meadowlands, the rich feelds of wheat, of rie, of buckwheat, and Indish corn, and the groves birdened with ruddy ovets, which beclipt the warm steading of Van Tassel, his heart yearned after the maiden who was to erve these lands, and his fathoming widened with the thought, hu hy might be readily went into shat, and the yeeld put into widegale deals of wildland, and shindel kinhoves in the wilderness. No, his bisy thought already knew his hopes, and shew to him the blossoming Katrina, with a whole maith of children, sat on the top of a wain laden with homewares, with pots and chettels swinging beneath; and he beheld himself bestriding a stepping mare, with a colt at her heels, setting ute for Kentucky, Tennessee,—or the Lord knows where!
 
When he infared the huse, his heart was fully won over. It was one of those roomy irthhuses, with highridged but slightlysoftly sloping rooves, bilt in the way handed dune from the first Duch settellers; the nether beetelling eaves making a portick along the fore, which cud be closed in bad weather. Under this were hangen threshers, belts, sundry tools of irth, and nets for fishing in the neighboring ea. Benches were bilt along the sides for the summer; and a great spinningwheel at one end, and a churn at the other, shew the sundry ends to which this weighty portick might be put. From this the wundering Ickabod infared the hall, which made up the middel of the bold, and the wonly livingstead. Here rows of shining hardtin, spread ute on a long sideboard, bliked his eyes. In one whem stood a great cheed of wool, ready to be spun; in another an andeven of linsiwool fresh from the weaveloom; ears of Indish corn, and strings of dried appels and persocks, hanged in bright wreathes along the walls, mingelled with the sparks of red peppers; and a door left achar yave him a peep into the best sittingroom, where the clawfooted selds and dark mahoggany beeds shone like silver; firedogs, with hir lasting shuvels and tongs, glistened from hir shelter of earthnavel tops; foken chinappels and conkshells fratowed the hearthshelf, strings of bleefaw birds eyren were seemed abuve it; a great strite ey was hangen from the middel of the room, and a hirn cupboard, knowingly left open, shew widegale mathoms of old silver and wellbeeted chinaware.
 
From the brightom Ickabod laid his eyes on these lands of win, his minds frith was at an end, and his only conning was hu to win the heeld of the unevened daughter of Van Tassel. In this upnimming, huever, he had more sooth hardships than often fell to the lot of a wandering knight of yore, who seldom had anything but ettins, wiches, firy drakes, and such like eath beaten foes, to fight with and had to make his way only thrugh gates of iron or brass, and walls of stone to the fasten keep, where the lady of his heart was held; all which he fulfilled as eath as man wud carve his way to the middel of a Cristmas bake; and then the lady yave him her hand as was wont. Ickabod, on the other hand, had to win his way to the heart of an upland maid, beset with a mase of whims and bees, which were forever rearing new hardships and remmings; and he had to meet a hoose of fearful foemen of sooth flesh and blood, the sundry upland wooers, who beset every gateway to her heart, keeping a wachful and wroth eye on each other, but ready to fly ute in the shared end ayenst any new foe.
This rakish heleth had for sum time chosen the blossoming Katrina for the markel of his uncooth knightliness, and thaugh his luvesum teasings were sumthing like the frithful strokes of a bear, it was yet whispered that she did not altogether withhold his hopes. Wiss it is, his flirtings were beacons for other wooers to swether, who had no wish to irse a lee in his luve; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to Van Tassels stake, on a Sunday night, a wiss token that his master was wooing, or, as it is named, “sparking,” within, all other wooers went by in wanhope, and bore the wie into other lands.
 
Such was the frightening foe with whom Ickabod Crane had to sake, and, all things in hand, a stronger man wud have shrunk from the fight, and a wiser man wud have yeaven up hope. He had, huever, a winful mong of bendsumness and singaleness in his eard; he was in body and goast as woodbine—yeelding, but tugh; thaugh he bent, he never broke; and thaugh he bued beneath the slightestsmallest thresting, yet, the eyeblink it was away—spring!—he was as upright, and held his head as high as ever.
 
To have nimmen the feeld openly ayenst his foe wud have been madness; for he was not a were to be hindered in his wooings, any more than that stormy luver, Ackilles, Ickabod, therefore, made his inroads in a slightlithe and softly inkelling way. Under sheeld of his wicken of songmaster, he often neesed the irthhuse; not that he had anything to worry from the nosy hindering of kennends, which is so often a hurdel in the path of luvers. Balt Van Tassel was an eath yeavel sowl; he luved his daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a fair were and a great father, let her have her way in everything. His markworthy littel wife too, had enugh to do with her husekeeping and her fule; for, as she wisely saw, ducks and geese are witless things, and must be looked after, but maids can care for hemselves. Thus, while the bisy lady bustelled abute the huse, or worked her spinningwheel at one end of the portick, good old Balt wud sit smoking his evening pipe at the other, waching the deeds of a littel wooden dring, who, yared with a sword in each hand, was most dughtily fighting the wind on the steepel of the barn. In the meantime, Ickabod wud flirt on with the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm, or walking along in the twilight, that tide so fair to the luvers words.
 
I bode not to know hu hearts of wives are wooed and won. To me hy have always been things of riddel and fondness. Sum look to have but one woakness, or door of infare; while others have a thusand roads, and may be fanged in a thusand sundry ways. It is a great sie of craft to win the former, but a still greater seething of plot to keep hold of the latter, for man must fight for his keep at every door and eyedoor. He who wins a thusand everyday hearts is therefore berighted to sum lise; but he who keeps unkneated hold over the heart of a flirt is indeed a heleth. Wiss it is, this was not hu it was with the fearful Brom Bones; and from the brightom Ickabod Crane made his inroads, the cares of the former suttelly fell; his horse was no longer seen tied to the stakes on Sunday nights, and a deadly feith arose stepwise between him and the teacher of Sleepy Hollow.
The right inting, huever, for the rifeness of eldrich tales in these lands, was tweeless owing to the neighwist of Sleepy Hollow. There was a sickness in the lift itself that blew from that goastly shire; it breathed forth a whith of swevens and fathomings smitting all the land. Many of the Sleepy Hollow folk were there at Van Tassels, and, as was wont, were doling ute hir wild and wunderful tales. Many sorrowful were told abute beryels, and morning roops and reats heard and seen abute the great tree where the wreched Underheadman André was nimmen, and which stood in the neighborhood. Sum nemmening was made also of the wife in white, that abode in the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to shree on winter nights before a storm, having swelted there in the snow. The main deal of the tales, huever, went to the darling goast of Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman, who had been heard many times of late, wandering the shire; and, it was said, hiched his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.
 
The withdrawn stow of this church felt always to have made it a darling abode of moodsick goasts. It stands on a knoll, beclipt by codtrees and tall elms, from among which its good, whitewashed walls shine meethfully forth, like Cristen lutterness beaming thrugh the shades of swethering. A slightsmall slope alights from it to a silver sheet of water, hemmed by high trees, between which, peeps may be fanged at the hewn hills of the Hudson. To look on its grassgrown yard, where the sunbeams look to sleep so stilly, man wud think that there at least the dead might rest in frith. On one side of the church streches a wide woody dell, along which winds a great brook among broken stones and stocks of fallen trees. Over a deep black deal of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which threw a gloom abute it, even in the daytime; but brought abute a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the darling abodes of the Headless Horseman, and the stead where he was most often seen. The tale was told of old Brouwer, a most dwildy unbeleever in goasts, hu he met the Horseman eftcumming from his inroad into Sleepy Hollow, and was riding to yet up behind him; hu hy rode over shrub and brake, over hill and slugh, hent hy raught the bridge; when the Horseman went swiftly into naught but bones, threw old Brouwer into the brook, and sprang away over the treetops with a clap of thunder.
 
This tale was at onse met by a thrise wunderful rose of Brom Bones, who made light of the Riding Hessman as a wandering reaser. He seethed that on eftcumming one night from the neighboring thorp of Sing Sing, he had been overrun by this midnight harman; that he had offered to rease with him for a bowl of monged drink, and shud have won it too, for Daredevil beat the puckish horse all hollow, but right as hy came to the church bridge; the Hessman bolted, and swinded in a leem of fire.
The merrimake nu slowly broke up. The old bures gathered together hir maiths in hir wains, and were heard for sum time rattelling along the hollow roads, and over the farlen hills. Sum of the maidens rode on settels behind hir chosen wooers, and hir lighthearted laughter, mingelling with the clatter of hooves, ashilled along the still woodlands, sweying softer and softer, hent hy stepwise swinded,—and the late setting of din and merrimake was all still and forsaken. Only Ickabod tarried behind, by the won of upland luvers, to have a head to head with the maiden of the huse; fully won over that he was nu on the high road to speed. What went on in this meeting I will not lichet to say, for in sooth I know not. Sumthing, huever, I fear me, must have gone wugh, for he wisly came forth, after no great betwixtfack, with an ansen rather lorn and unmoody. O, these wives! these wives! Cud that maid have been playing off any of her flirtful prats? Was her boldening of the arm teacher all a sham to sicker her winning his foe? Heaven only knows, not I! Let it be enugh to say, Ickabod stole forth with the whith of man who had been winning over a henroost, rather than a fair ladies heart. Withute looking to the right or left to mark the setting of upland wealth, on which he had so often crowed, he went streight to the horsern, and with many hearty blows and kicks woke his steed unhendly from the cweem stead in which he was sundly sleeping, swevening of barrows of corn and oats, and whole deens of clover and catstailgrass.
 
It was the wiching time of night itself that Ickabod, heavihearted and lorn, followed his path homewards, along the sides of the high hills which rise abuve Tarry Tune, and which he had fared so merrily in the undern. The tide was as grim as his mood. Far beneath him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and unsuttel weasten of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, riding softly at anker under the land. In the dead hush of midnight, he cud even hear the barking of the wachdog from the Hudsons wither shore; but it was so unsuttel and slightsoft as only to yeave a ween of his farl from this trothful sither of man. Nu and then, too, the longdrawn crowing of a cock, unwittingly awoken, wud shill far, far off, from sum irthhuse away among the hills—but it was like a sweven to his ear. No tokens of life befell near him, but from time to time the yoomer chirp of a hillhoamer, or maybe the deep twang of a farfrosh from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncweemly and starting swiftly in the bed.
 
All the tales of goasts and pucks that he had heard in the undern nu came cruding in on his mind. The night grew darker and darker; the stars looked to sink deeper in the heavens, and driving cludes from time to time hid hem from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and lorn. He was, moreover, nearing the stead itself that had been the setting of many of those goasttales. In the middel of the road stood a great saddeltree, which rose like an ettin abuve all the other trees of the neighborhood, and made a kind of landmark. Its bughs were gnarled and ferly, great enugh to be as stocks for everyday trees, twining dune almost to the earth, and rising ayen into the lift. It was lenched with the sorrowful tale of the wreched André, who had been hafted hard by; and was known by all by the name of Underheadman Andrés tree. The churlfolk held it with a mong of worth and offgalth, in deal ute of rewth for its unseely namesake, and in deal from the tales of ferly sights, and dreary woops, told abute it.
 
 
The foregoing tale is yeaven almost in the words hemselves in which I heard it told at a Bisiness meeting in the fern borough of Manhattoes, at which were there many of its wisest and mearest boroughers. The teller was a winsum, shabby, herly old fellow, in salt and pepper clothes, with a sadly playful anlet, and whom I strongly inkelled of being arm—he made such fands to be gripping. When his tale was ended, there was much laughter and love, hure from two or three yomen aldermen, who had been asleep the greater deal of the time. There was, huever, one tall, dry looking old her, with beetelling eyebrues, who kept a sweer and rather stern anlet thrughute, nu and then folding his arms, nodding his head, and looking dune on the floor, as if wharving a twee over in his mind. He was one of the wary weres, who never laugh but on good grunds—when hy have rode and ea on hir side. When the mirth of the lave of the folk had gone by, and stillness was edstaddelled, he leant one arm on the elbow of his seld, and sticking the other akimbow, askt, with a slightshort, but overly wise nod of the head, and shortening of the brue, what was the reading of the tale, and what it went to asoothe?
 
The taleteller, who was right then putting a glass of wine to his lips, as a liss after his swink, stalled for a brightom, looked at his frainer with a whith of unbund yeelding, and, setting the glass slowly dune to the beed, said that the tale was meant most rodefully to asoothe—
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