The Cecil Whig., 1873-10-18

Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged to get up
behind him; how they galloped over bush
and brake, over hill and swamp, until they
reached the bridge; when the horseman
suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old
Brouwer into the brook, and sprang away
over the tree-tops with clap of thunder.
This story was Immediately matched by
a thrice marvellous adventure of Brom
Bones, who made light of the galloping
Hessians as an arrant jockey. He affirmed
that, on returning one night from the
neighboring village of Sing Sing, he had
been overtaken by this midnight trooper;
that he had offered to race with him for a
bowl of punch, and should have won it
too, for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all
hollow, but, just as they came to the
church, bridge, the Hessian bolted, and
vanished in flash of fire.
All these tales, told in that drowsy un-
dertene with which men talk in the dark,
the countenances of the listeners only now
and then receiving casual gleam from
the glare of a pipe, sank deep in the mind
of 1chabcd. He repaid them in kind with
large extracts from his invaluable author,
Cotton Mather, and added many marvel
GUS events that had taken place in his
native State of Connecticut, and fearful
sights which he had seen in his nightly
walks about the Sleepy Hollow.
The revel now gradually broken up
The old farmers gathered together their
for some time rattling along the hollow
roads, and over the distant hills. Some of
the damsels mounted on pilions behind
their favorite swains, and their light
hearted laughter, mingling with the clat-
ter of hoofs, echoed along the silent wood
lands, sounding fainter and fainter until
they gradually died away-and the late
scene of noise and frolc was all silent and
deserted. Ichabod only fingered behind,
according to the custom of country lovers,
to have tete-a- tete with the heiress, fully
convinced that he was now on the high
road to success. What passed at this in
terview will not pretend to say, for in
fact do not know. Something, however,
l fear me, must have gone wrong, for he
certainly sailed forth, after no very great
interval, with an air quite desolate and
hop-fallen.-Oh, these women! these
women Could that girl have been play
ing off any of her coquettish tricks ?-Was
her encouragement of the poor pedagogue
all mere sham to secure her conquest of
his rival ?-Heaven only knows, not I =
Let it suffice to say, Ichabod stole forth
with the air of one who had been sacking
a hen-roost, rather than fair lady's heart.
Without looking to the right or left to
notice the scene of rural wealth on which
he had SO often gloated, he went straight
to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs
and kicks, reused his steed most uncourte
ously from the comfortable quarters in
which he was soundly sleeping, dreaming
of mountains of corn and oats, and whole
valleys of timothy and clover.
1t was the very witching time of night
that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfal-
len, pursued his travel homewards, along
the sides of the lofty hills which rise above
larry Town, and which lie had traversed
so cheerily in the afternoon. The hour
was as dismal as himself. Far below him,
the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indis-
tinct waste of waters, with here and there
the tall mast of sloop riding quietly at
anchor under the land. In the dead hush
of midnight he could ever hear the bark
ing of the watch dog from the opposite
shore of the Hudson; but it was so vague
and faint as only to give an idea of his dis
tance from this faithful companion of man.
Now and then, too, the long drawn crow
ing Of cock, accidentally awakened,
would sound far, far off, from some farm
house away among the hills-but it was
like dreaming sound in his ear. No
signs of life occurred near him, but occa-
sionally the melancholy chirp of cricket,
or perhaps the cultural twang of a bull
frog, from neighboring marsh, as if sleep
ing uncomfortably, and turning suddenly
in his bed.
All the stories of ghosts and goblins that
he had heard in the afternoon, now came
crowding upon his recollection. 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
dismal. He was, moreover, approaching
the very place where many Of the scenes of
the ghost stories had been laid. In the
centre of the road stood an enormous tulip
tree, which lowered like giant above all
the other trees of the neighborhood, and
formed kind of landmark Its limbs
were gnarled, and fantastic, large enough
to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting
down almost to the earth, and rising again
tragical story of the unfortunate Andre,
who had been taken prisoner hard by; and
was universally known by the name of
Major Andres tree. The common people
regarded it with a mixture of respect and
partly out of sympathy for
the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and
partly from the tales of strange sights and
doleful lamentations told concerning it.
AS Ichabod approached this fearful tree,
he began to whistle: he thought his whis-
tie was answered,-it was but blast
sweeping sharply through the dry branch
es. AS he approached little nearer, he
thought he saw something white, hanging
in the midst Of the tree,-he paused and
ceased whistling; but on looking more
perceived that it was place
where the tree had been scathed by light
ming, and the white wood laid bare. Sud-
denly he heard groan,-his teeth chat
tered and his knees smote against the sad
die: 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.
About two hundred yards from the tree
a small brook crossed the road, and ran
into marshy and thickly wooded glen,
known by the name of Wiley's swamp.
few rough logs, laid side by side, served