The Republican journal., 1903-10-15
At Irving's Grave.
A Trolley Ride to Tarrytown, the Scene
of the "Iegend of Sleepy Hollow"

of the "Legend OF Sleepy Hollow"
Who has not read, with interest and
amusement, Irving's Legend of Sleepy
Hollow" and who would not jump at
the chance, as did the writer few days
ago, of visiting the ''Tarrytown" of
that fascinating tale?
A good sized lunch box, sweaters and
jackets, completed the equipments of
two maiden pilgrims, the corporal"
and private, one day last week as we
started for our short walk to the troll
ley line. Comfortably established near
the front of the car we quickly left the
town behind. In its outskirts we chang
ed cars and went whizzing along
through a country as different from
our own Maine woods and hills and
fields as if they were thousands OF
miles apart. An old italian woman
and two or three urchins gathering
dead tree limbs and twigs added met
ropolitan touch. The absence OF hills
on the horizon, and occasional glimpses
Of the marshy shores of the Sound,
combined to make the landscape un-
folding before us unfamiliar. The bril-
} liant reds and yellows of the Pine Tree
State trees were subdued into more
sombre shades, but the profuse growth
of Virginia creeper made a gorgeous
mantle covering stone walls, stumps,
and even the trunks and branches OF
living trees and Transforming them into
glowing masses of deep red. We passed
through the main streets of thriving
! towns and cities, leaving Connecticut
behind us as Greenwich faded away in
the distance. Port Chester, Rye, Har-
rison, Mamaroneck-where we changed
cars and had five minute wait-and
White Plains were all left behind, and
from the latter place to Tarrytown was
the most charming bit of the whole
Journey. Handsome country houses,
surrounded by finely kept grounds,
some of the widely advertised private
schools, seemingly with all the advan-
tages you read about in the front OF the
magazines, and here and there stretch
of wooded land to remind one that the
"drowsy shades of Irving's day are not
yet altogether things of the past.
The West Chester County Fair was
going on in White Plains, and all roads
seemed to lead in that direction. An
automobile flying along would pass
family carryall, which in turn would
leave behind an old farmers cart heap
ed high with produce. All sorts and
conditions of men. women, children
and beasts were bound for the fair,
with the exception of two lone girls,
who fortified themselves with chocolate
and held fast to their first resolve:
"Tarrytown or bust"
The alternative was not dangerously
near, for it was only about twenty min
utes past twelve when we rounded the
last of a surprising number of abrupt
curves, and the town was spread out on
gently sloping terraces before us, with
the sparkling blue Hudson beyond,
After making sundry inquiries OF
very military looking individual wear
ing conductors uniform we alighted
at a road at right angles to the main
street, and headed in the direction OF
the cemetery at a pretty good gait. We
were told that our goal was three-quar-
ters of mile distant, but our long ride
had sharpened our appetites and we
needed no further encouragement.
Crossing bridge we came to the little
stone church built by the Dutch in 1899
where service has been held every Sun
day since, tradition saith. Here, in the
church yard, was the Headless Horse
man buried who arose O. nights to
frighten the good people of Sleepy Hol-
low. Following the path by the brook
which also plays part in the tradition
handed down to posterity by Diedrich
Knickerbocker, we came to an old dam,
over half of which big chestnut trees
cast a dense shade. Here the lunch
box was opened and rapidly emptied by
two appetites sharpened by three hours
and half in the open air.
Climbing up the bank we found our
selves in we'll kept cemetery covering
a large area. Our time was limited, but
questioning a laborer, who was evident
ly from the "auld sod," led to our easily
finding Washington Irving's simple
headstone in the midst of the family
lot. The section of the cemetery near
er the church was evidently the old
part, and we wished for time to exam
inc the headstones, which we were con-
tident would reward our search with
quaint Inscriptions. On our way back
to the road we saw the grave of two
year old child, unfortunately drown
edv' Then, too, we found an epitaph
terminating in this touching sentiment:
GAS child and man I've played my part,
! And now retire in peace,
Since from this life must depart
Icheerfully give up my lease"
On the way back to town we passed
several nutting parties composed of
| or,all hovs Tn tho morninp inst ont