The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1873-10-04
imaginative, to dream dreams, and see

Is
that population, manners, and Gust
remain fixed: while the great torrent of
migration and improvements, which is
making such incessant changes in other
them unobserved. They are like those
little hooks of still water which border a
rapid stream; where we may see the straw
and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or
slowly revolving in their mimic harbor,
undsturbed by the rush of the passing
current. Though many years have elaps
ed since trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy
Hollow, yet question whether | should
not still find the same trees and the same
| families negotiating in its sheltered bosom.
! In this by-place of nature, there abode,
in a remote period of American history,
that is to say, some thirty years since, a
worthy wight of the name of 1chabod
Crane; who sojourned, or, as he expressed
it, tarried,' in Sleepy Hollow, for the
purpose of instructing the children of the
vicinity. He was native of Connecticut,
4 State which supplies the Union with
pioneers for the mind as we'll as for the
forest, and sends forth yearly it's legions
of frontier woodsmen and country school
masters. The cognomen of Crane was
not inapplcable to his person. He was
tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow
shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that
dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that
might have served for shovels, and his
whole frame most loosely hung together.
His head was small, and flat at top, with
huge ears, large green CLASSY eyes, and a
| long snipe nose, so that it looked like a
weathercock perched upon his spindle neck,
to tell which way the wind blew. To see
him stride along the profile of hill on a
windy day, with his clothes bagging and
| tluttering about him, one might have mis-
taken him for the genius of famine de-
scending upon the earth or some scare
crow eloped from cornfield.
| His school-house was a low building of
one large room, rudely constructed of logs;
the windows partly glazed, and partly
patched with leaves of old copy-books. 1t
was most ingeniously secured at vacant
| hours by withe twisted in the handle of
the door, and stakes set against the win
dow-shutters; SO that, though a thief
might get in with perfect ease, he would find
some embarrassment in getting out: an idea
most probably borrowed by the architect,
Yost Van Houtcn, from the mystery of an
| COL not Tho ScIoo1 bouca stood in roth
er lonely but pleasant situation, just at the
foot of woody hill, with brook running
close by, and a formidable birch tree grow
ing at one end of it. From hence the low
murmur of his pupils voices, coming over
their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy
summers day, like the hum of ee-hive;
interrupted now and then by the authora-
tive voice of the master, in the tone of
menace or command; or, preadventure, by
the appalling sound of the birch, as he
urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery
path of knowledge. Truth to say, he was
a conscientious man, and ever bore in mind
the golden maxim, "Spare the rod and
spoil the child" Ichabod Cranes scholars
certainly were not SpOlleu.
would not have it imagined, however,
that he was one of those cruel potent ates
of the school, who enjoyed in the smart of
their subjects; on the contrary, he adj
ministered justice with discrimination rath-
er than severity, taking the burden off the
backs of the weak, and laying it on those
of the strong. Your mere puny STRIPPING,
that WINGED at the least flourish of the
rod, was passed by with indulgence; but
the claims of justice were satisfied by in
| tiicting a double portion on some little,
tough, wrong headed, broad skirted Dutch
urchin, who sulked and sweled and grew
logged and sulen beneath the birch. All
this he called "doing his duty" by their
parents; and he never inflicted chastise-
men without following it by the assurance,
so consolatory to the smarting urchin, that
she would remember it, and thank him
for it the longest day he had to live"
When school hours were over he was
| even the companion and playmate of the
larger boys; and on holiday afternoons
home, who happened to have pretty sisters,
or good housewives for mothers, noted for
the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed it
behooved him to keep on good terms with
his pupils. The revenue arising from his
school was SMALL and would have been
scarcely sufficient to furnish him with daily
bread, for he was huge feeder, and,
though lank, had the dilating powers of
an anaconda; but to help out his mainte-
nance, he was, according to the country
custom in those parts, boarded and lodged
at the houses of the farmers, whose child
rem he instructed. With these he lived
successfully week at time; thus going
the rounds of the neighborhood, with all
his worldly effects tied up in Gotten
handkerchief.
That all this might not be too onerous
on the purses of his rustic patrons, who
are apt to consider the costs of schooling a
greveus burden, and schoolmasters as
mere drones, he had various ways of rend-
ering himself both useful and agreeable.
He assisted the farmers occasionally in the
lighter labors of their farms; helped to
make hay; mended the fences; took the
horses to water; drove the cows from past
ure; and cut wood for the winter fire. He
laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity
and absolute sway with which he lorded it
in his little empire, the school, and became
wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He
found favor in the eyes of the mothers, by
petting the children, particularly the
youngest; and like the hon bold, which
whilom SO magnanimously the lamb did
hold, he would sit with child on one
knee, and rock cradle with his foot for
whole hours together.
In addition to his other vocations, he
was the singing master of the neighbour
hood, and picked up many bright shillngs
by instructing the young folks in psalm
ody. 1t was a matter of no little vanity
to him, on Sundays, to take his station in
front of the church gallery, with band of