The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
by Washington Irving
FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS
OF THE LATE DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER.
A pleasing land of drowsy head it was,
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
Forever flushing round a summer sky.
CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.
In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore ofthe Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancientDutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sailand implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies asmall market town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but whichis more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name wasgiven, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacentcountry, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about thevillage tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact,but merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. Not farfrom this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley or ratherlap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the wholeworld. A small brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one torepose; and the occasional whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpecker isalmost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.
I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel-shooting wasin a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I hadwandered into it at noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and wasstartled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness aroundand was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wishfor a retreat whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, anddream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none morepromising than this little valley.
From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of itsinhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, thissequestered glen has long been known by the name of SLEEPY HOLLOW, and itsrustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neighboringcountry. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervadethe very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched by a High Germandoctor, during the early days of the settlement; others, that an old Indianchief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before thecountry was discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the placestill continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell overthe minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. Theyare given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs, are subject to trances andvisions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in theair. The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, andtwilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valleythan in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her wholeninefold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols.
The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems tobe commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of afigure on horseback, without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of aHessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in somenameless battle during the Revolutionary War, and who is ever and anon seen bythe country folk hurr