gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of water,

bordered by high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the
blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown yard,

where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that
there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one side of the

church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook
among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black

part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown
a woodenbridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself,

were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom
about it, even in the daytime; but occasioned a fearful darkness

at night. Such was one of the favorite haunts of the Headless
Horseman, and the place where he was most frequently encountered.

The tale was told of old Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in
ghosts, how he met the Horseman returning from his foray into

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 a clap of thunder.
This story was immediately matched by a thrice marvellous

adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the Galloping Hessian
as an arrant jockey. He affirmed that on returning one night from

the neighboring village of Sing Sing, he had been overtaken by
this midnighttrooper; 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 a flash of fire.
All these tales, told in that drowsy undertone with which

men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listeners only now
and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sank

deep in the mind of Ichabod. He repaid them in kind with large
extracts from his invaluable author, Cotton Mather, and added

many marvellous events that had taken place in his native State
of Connecticut, and fearful sights which he had seen in his

nightly walks about Sleepy Hollow.
The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered

together their families in their wagons, and were heard for some
time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills.

Some of the damsels mounted on pillions behind their favorite
swains, and their light-hearted laughter, mingling with the

clatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, sounding
fainter and fainter, until they gradually died away, --and the

late scene of noise and frolic was all silent and deserted.
Ichabod only lingered behind, according to the custom of country

lovers, to have a tete-a-tete with the heiress; fully convinced
that he was now on the high road to success. What passed at this

interview I will not pretend to say, for in fact I do not know.
Something, however, I fear me, must have gone wrong, for he

certainly sallied forth, after no very great interval, with an
air quite desolate and chapfallen. Oh, these women! these women!

Could that girl have been playing off any of her coquettish tricks?
Was her encouragement of the poor pedagogue all a 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 henroost, rather than a 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

roused his steed most uncourteously from the comfortable quarters
in which he was soundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn

and oats, and whole valleys of timothy and clover.
It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavy

hearted and crest-fallen, pursued his travels homewards, along
the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarry Town, and

which he had traversed so cheerily in the afternoon. 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
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 distance from this
faithful companion of 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--but it was like a

dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred near him,
but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps

the guttural twang of a bull-frog from a neighboring marsh, as if
sleeping 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 towered like a giant above all the

other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a 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 into the air. It was connected with the tragical story of

the unfortunate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard by; and
was universally known by the name of Major Andre's tree. The

common people regarded it with a mixture of respect and
superstition, 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 whistle was answered; it was but a blast

sweeping sharply 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 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.
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. On that side of the road
where the brook entered the wood, a group of oaks and chestnuts,

matted thick with wild grape-vines, threw a cavernous gloom over
it. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this

identical spot that the unfortunate Andre was captured, and under
the covert of those chestnuts and vines were the sturdy yeomen

concealed who surprised him. This has ever since been considered
a hauntedstream, and fearful are the feelings of the school-boy

who has to pass it alone after dark.
As he approached the stream, his heart began to thump 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 lateralmovement, 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 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 forward, snuffling and snorting, but came
to a stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly