E. C. Hartwell

The time of this story is post-Revolutionary. Ichabod Crane, a lean, awkward schoolmaster, has been courting the village belle, Katrina Van Tassel, his rival being Brom Bones, a powerful fellow, noted for his pugnacity. He has frequently threatened Ichabod for aspiring to the charming Katrina. Here, Ichabod, at a late hour, is leaving the Van Tassel home after a "quilting frolic" where he took occasion to propose to Katrina. Judge of the young lady's answer!

Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his
travel homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills
which rise above Tarrytown. The hour was as dismal as
himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky
and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the 5
tall mast of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under the
land. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear
the barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore of the
Hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an
idea of his great distance from this faithful companion of 10
man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a
cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off,
from some farmhouse away among the hills. No signs of
life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy
chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog 15
from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably
and turning suddenly in his bed.

The night grew darker and darker, the stars seemed to
sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid
them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and 20
dismal. In the center of the road stood an enormous tulip
tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees
of the neighborhood and formed a kind of landmark. It
was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate
AndrÉ, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and was 5
universally known by the name of Major AndrÉ's Tree.
The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect
and superstition.

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to
whistle. He thought his whistle was answered. It was 10
but a blast sweeping through the dry branches. As he
approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something
white hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused and
ceased whistling; but on looking more narrowly, perceived
that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by 15
lightning and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard
a groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote against
the saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon
another as they were swayed about by the breeze. He
passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him.20

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook
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 side by side, served for a bridge over this stream.
To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this 25
identical spot that the unfortunate AndrÉ was captured,
and this has ever since been considered a haunted stream,
and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to
pass it alone after dark.

As he approached the stream his heart began to thump. 30
He summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his
horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to
dash briskly across the bridge. But instead of starting
forward, the perverse old animal made 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 5
vain. His steed started, it is true, but it was only to
plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of
brambles and alder bushes.

The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel
upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed 10
forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just
by the bridge with a suddenness which had nearly sent his
rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a
plashy tramp on the bank of the stream, by the side of
the bridge, caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the 15
dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the murmuring
brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and
towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathering up in the
gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the
traveler. 20

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head
with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now
too late. Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he
demanded, in stammering tones, "Who are you?" He
received no reply. 25

He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice.
Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sides
of the inflexible Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, broke
forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then
the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a 30
scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road.Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of
the unknown might now, in some degree, be ascertained.
He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions and
mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made
no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on
one side of the road. Ichabod, who had no relish for this 5
strange midnight companion, now quickened his steed in
hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger quickened
his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up and fell
into a walk, thinking to lag behind. The other did the
same. His heart began to sink within him. He endeavored 10
to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to
the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave.

There was something in the moody and dogged silence
of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and
appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On 15
mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his
fellow traveler in relief against the sky, gigantic in height
and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving
that he was headless! But his horror was still more
increased on observing that the head which should have 20
rested on his shoulders was carried before him on the
pommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation.
He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder,
hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the
slip. But the specter started full jump with him. Away 25
then they dashed, through thick and thin, stones flying
and sparks flashing at every bound.

An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes
that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection
of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that 30
he was not mistaken. "If I can but reach that bridge,"
thought Ichabod, "I am safe." Just then he heard the
black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he
even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive
kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang
upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding
planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod 5
cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish,
according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just
then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very
act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to
dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered 10
his cranium with a tremendous crash. He was tumbled
headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed,
and the goblin rider passed by like a whirlwind.

The next morning the old horse was found without his
saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping 15
the grass at his master's gate, while near the bridge, on
the 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—a shattered pumpkin!

—A Legend of Sleepy Hollow.