bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones with the Galloping
Hessian, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The
stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled
up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind—the other did the same.
His heart began to sink within him; he endeavored to resume his psalm
tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could
not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and dogged silence
of this pertinacious companion, that was mysterious and appalling. It
was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising ground, which
brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky,
gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on
perceiving that he was headless!—but his horror was still more increased,
on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders,
was carried before him on the pommel of the saddle: his terror rose
to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder,
hoping, by a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip—but the
specter started full jump with him. Away then they dashed, through thick
and thin; stones flying, and sparks flashing at every bound. Ichabod’s
flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body
away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his flight.
They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but
Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it,
made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This
road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter
of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story, and just
beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church.
As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider an apparent
advantage in the chase; but just as he had got half way through the
hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from
under him. He seized it by the pommel, and endeavored to hold it firm,
but in vain; and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder
round the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it
trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van
Ripper’s wrath passed across his mind—for it was his Sunday saddle; but
this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his haunches;
and (unskilful rider that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat;
sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes
jolted on the high ridge of his horse’s backbone, with a violence that he
verily feared would cleave him asunder.
An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church
bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom
of the brook told him he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church
dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place where
Brom Bone’s ghostly competitor had disappeared. “If I can but reach that
bridge,” thought Ichabod, “I am safe.” Just then he heard the black steed
panting and blowing close behind him; he even fancied that he felt his
hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang
upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding planks; he gained the
opposite side; and now Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer
should vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone.
Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act
of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible
missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a tremendous
crash—he was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black
steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind.
The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with the
bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master’s gate.
Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast—dinner-hour came, but no
Ichabod. The boys assembled at the school-house, and strolled idly about
the banks of the brook; but no schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now began to
feel some uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. An
inquiry was set on foot, and after diligent investigation they came upon
his traces. In one part of the road leading to the church was found the
saddle trampled in the dirt; the tracks of horses’ hoofs deeply dented
in the road, and evidently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge,
beyond which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water
ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and
close beside it a shattered pumpkin.
The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmaster was not to be
discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as executor of his estate, examined the
bundle which contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two
shorts and a half; two stocks for the neck; a pair or two of worsted
stockings; an old pair of corduroy smallclothes; a rusty razor; a book
of psalm tunes, full of dogs’ ears; and a broken pitchpipe. As to the
books and furniture of the school-house, they belonged to the community,
excepting Cotton Mather’s History of Witchcraft, a New England Almanac,
and a book of dreams and fortune-telling; in which last was a sheet of
foolscap much scribbled and blotted in several fruitless attempts to make
a copy of verses in honor of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books
and the poetic scrawl were forthwith consigned to the flames by Hans Van
Ripper; who from that time forward determined to send his children no
more to school; observing, that he never knew any good come of this same
reading and writing. Whatever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he
had received his quarter’s pay but a day or two before, he must have had
about his person at the time of his disappearance.
The mysterious event caused much speculation at the church on the
following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gossips were collected in the
churchyard, at the bridge, and at the spot where the hat and pumpkin
had been found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget of
others, were called to mind; and when they had diligently considered them
all, and compared them with the symptoms of the present case, they shook
their heads, and came to the conclusion that Ichabod had been carried off
by the Galloping Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in nobody’s debt,
nobody troubled his head any more about him. The school was removed to a
different quarter of the hollow, and another pedagogue reigned in his
stead.
It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York on a visit
several years after, and from whom this account of the ghostly adventure
was received, brought home the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still
alive; that he had left the neighborhood, partly through fear of the
goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at having been
suddenly dismissed by the heiress; that he had changed his quarters to a
distant part of the country; had kept school and studied law at the same
time, had been admitted to the bar, turned politician, electioneered,
written for the newspapers, and finally had been made a justice of
the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who shortly after his rival’s
disappearance conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar,
was observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of Ichabod
was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the
pumpkin; which led some to suspect that he knew more about the matter
than he chose to tell.
The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of these matters,
maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited away by supernatural
means; and it is a favorite story often told about the neighborhood round
the winter evening fire. The bridge became more than ever an object of
superstitious awe, and that may be the reason why the road has been
altered of late years, so as to approach the church by the border of the
mill-pond. The school-house being deserted, soon fell to decay, and was
reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate pedagogue; and
the plough-boy, loitering homeward of a still summer evening, has often
fancied his voice at a distance, chanting a melancholy psalm tune among
the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow.
[4] The whip-poor-will is a bird which is only heard at night.
It receives its name from its note, which is thought to
resemble those words.
THE HARE WHO THOUGHT THE WORLD HAD COME TO AN END
Translated by H. N. Francis
Once upon a time there was near the Western Ocean a grove of palm and
vilva trees. A certain Hare lived here beneath a palm sapling, at the
foot of a vilva tree. One day this Hare after feeding came and lay down
beneath a young palm tree, and the thought struck him: “If this earth
should be destroyed, what would become of me?”
At this very moment a ripe vilva fruit fell on a palm leaf. At the sound
of it the Hare suddenly thought, “This solid earth is collapsing,” and
starting up he fled without so much as looking behind him.
Another Hare saw him scampering off as if frightened to death, and asked
the cause of his sudden flight. “Pray don’t ask me,” he said. The second
Hare, followed, crying, “Pray, sir, what is it?” and kept running after
him.
Then the Hare stopped a moment and, without looking back, he said, “The
earth here is breaking up.” And at this the second Hare ran after the
first. And then first one and then another Hare caught sight of him
running and joined in the chase, till one hundred thousand Hares all
took their flight together. They were seen by a Deer, a Boar, an Elk, a
Buffalo, a Wild Ox, a Rhinoceros, a Tiger, a Lion and an Elephant. And
when they asked what it meant and were told that the earth was breaking
up, they too took to flight. By degrees this host of animals was a league
long.
A wise Brahmin who saw this headlong flight of animals, and was told that
the cause of it was that the earth was coming to an end, thought: “The
earth is nowhere coming to an end. Surely it must be some sound which
was misunderstood by them. If I don’t make a great effort they will all
perish. I will save their lives.” With the speed of a lion he got before
them to the foot of a mountain, and roared three times like a lion.
They were terribly frightened and stopped in their flight, standing all
huddled together. The Brahmin, in the guise of a Lion, went amongst them
and asked why they were running away.
“The earth is collapsing,” they answered.
“Who saw it collapsing?” he said.
“The Elephants know all about it,” they replied. He asked the Elephants,
but they didn’t know. They said the Lions knew. But the Lions said, “We
don’t know; the Tigers know.” The Tigers said, “The Wild Oxen know.” The
Wild Oxen, “The Buffaloes.” The Buffaloes, “The Elks.” The Elks, “The
Boars.” The Boars, “The Deer.” The Deer said, “We don’t know; the Hares
know.” When the Hares were questioned they pointed to one particular Hare
and said, “This one told us.”
So the Brahmin went up to him and asked, “Is it true, sir, that the earth
is breaking up?”
“Yes, sir, I saw it,” said the Hare.
“Where,” he asked, “were you living when you saw it?”
“Near the ocean, sir, in a grove of palm and vilva trees. As I was lying
beneath the shade of a palm sapling at the foot of a vilva tree, I
thought, ‘If this earth should break up, where shall I go?’ And at that
very moment I heard the sound of the earth breaking up, and I fled.”
The Lion thought to himself: “A ripe vilva fruit evidently must have
fallen on a palm leaf and made a ‘thud,’ and this Hare jumped to the
conclusion that the earth was coming to an end, and ran away. I will
find out the exact truth about it.” So he reassured the herd of animals
and said: “I will take the Hare and go and find out exactly whether the
earth is coming to an end or not, in the place pointed out by him. Until
I return do you stay here.” Then, placing the Hare on his back, he sprang
forward with the speed of a lion, and putting the Hare down in a palm
grove, he said, “Come, show us the place you meant.”
“I dare not, my lord,” said the Hare.
“Come, don’t be afraid,” said the Lion. The Hare, not daring to go near
the vilva tree, stood afar off and cried, “Yonder, sir, is the place of
dreadful sounds.”
The Lion went to the foot of the vilva tree, and saw the spot where the
Hare had been lying beneath the shade of the palm tree, and the ripe
vilva fruit that fell on the palm leaf, and having ascertained that the
earth had not broken up, he placed the Hare on his back and with the
speed of a lion soon came again to the herd of beasts.
He told them the whole story, and having thus reassured the herd of
beasts he let them go.
THE WATERING OF THE SAPLINGS
Translated by Rev. W. H. D. Rouse
Once upon a time a king named Vissasena was reigning over the city of
Benares, and proclamation was made of a holiday. The park-keeper thought
he would take a holiday, so, calling the Monkeys that lived in the park,
he said:
“This park is a great blessing to you. I want to take a week’s holiday.
Will you water the saplings on the seventh day?” “Oh, yes,” they said. He
gave them the watering skins, and went away.
The Monkeys drew water and began to water the roots, when the eldest
Monkey cried out:
“Wait, now! It’s hard to get water. We must not waste it. Let us pull
up the plants, and notice the length of their roots; if they have long
roots, they need plenty of water; but short ones need but a little.”
“True, true,” they agreed; so some of them pulled up the plants while
others put them back and watered them.
“Who bids you do that?” asked a young gentleman living in Benares.
“Our chief,” they replied.
To this the young gentleman answered:
“If he was chosen as the best,
What sort of creatures are the rest!”
Whereat the Monkeys repeated:
“Brahmin, you know not what you say
Blaming us in such a way!
If the root we do not know,
How can we tell the trees that grow?”
THE OLD HARE AND THE ELEPHANTS
Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold
Once on a time very little rain had fallen in the due season; and the
Elephants, being oppressed with thirst, thus addressed their leader:
“Master, how are we to live? The small creatures find something to wash
in, but we cannot, and we are half dead in consequence; whither shall we
go then, and what shall we do?”
Upon that the King of the Elephants led them away a little distance and
showed them a beautiful pool of water clear as crystal, where they took
their ease.
Now it chanced that a company of Hares resided on the banks of the pool
and the going and coming of the Elephants trampled many of them to
death, till one of their number grumbled out, “This troop will be coming
here to water every day, and every one of our family will be crushed.”
“Do not disquiet yourself,” said an old Buck Hare named Good-speed; “I
will manage to stop it,” and so saying, he set off bethinking himself on
his way how he should approach and accost a herd of Elephants; for
Elephants destroy by touching, snakes with point of tooth beguile;
Kings by favor kill, and traitors murder with a fatal smile.
“I will get on the top of a hill,” he thought, “and address the Elephants
from there.”
This being done, and the lord of the herd perceiving him, it was asked of
the Hare, “Who art thou? and whence comest thou?”
“I am an ambassador from His Godship the Moon,” replied Good-speed.
“State your business,” said the Elephant King.
“Sire,” began the Hare, “an ambassador speaks the truth safely by
reason of his position. Thus saith the Moon then: “These Hares were the
guardians of my pool, and thine Elephants in coming here have scared them
away. This is not well. Am I not “S’às’anka” whose banner bears a hare,
and are not these Hares my followers?” “Please your worship,” said the
Elephant King with much fear, “we knew nothing of this; we will go there
no more.”
“It were well,” said the make-believe ambassador, “that you first make
your apologies to the God, who is quaking with rage in his pool, and
then went about your business.”
“We will do so,” replied the Elephant with meekness; and being led by
night to the pool, in the ripples of which the image of the Moon was
quivering, the herd made their prostrations; the Hare explaining to the
Moon that their fault was committed in ignorance, and therefore they got
their dismissal.
THE ELEPHANT HAS A BET WITH THE TIGER
By Walter Skeat, M.R.A.S., F.A.L.
In the beginning Gajah the Elephant and Rimau the Tiger were sworn
friends. But one day they came to a clearing and presently encountered
Lobong, the long-tailed Spectacle-Monkey. And when he saw the Monkey the
Elephant said, “Mr. Lobong yonder is far too noisy; let us try and shake
him off; if he falls to me I am to eat you; and if he falls to you, you
are to eat me—we will make a wager of it.” The Tiger said, “Agreed?” and
the Elephant replied, “Agreed.” “Very well!” said the Tiger; “you shall
try and menace him first.” So the Elephant tried to menace the Monkey.
“_Au! Au! Au!_” he trumpeted, and each time he trumpeted the Monkey was
scared. But the Monkey went jumping head foremost through the branches
and never fell to the ground at all.
Presently, therefore, the Tiger asked the Elephant, “Well, Friend
Elephant, would you like to try your luck again?” But the Elephant said,
“No, thank you. It shall be your turn now; and if he falls to you, you
shall eat me—if you really can make him fall!”
Then the Tiger went and roared his longest and loudest and shortened his
body as for a spring and growled and menaced the Monkey thrice. And the
Monkey leaped and fell at the Tiger’s feet, for his feet and hands were
paralyzed and would not grip the branches any more. Then the Tiger said,
“Well, Friend Elephant, I suppose I may eat you now!” But the Elephant
said, “You have, I admit, won the wager; but I beg you to grant me just
seven days’ respite, to enable me to visit my wife and children and to
make my will.” The Tiger granted the request, and the Elephant went home,
bellowing and sobbing every foot of the way.
Now the Elephant’s wife heard the sound of her husband’s voice, and said
to her children, “What can be the matter with your father that he keeps
sobbing so?” And the children listened to make sure and said, “Yes, it
really is father’s voice, the sobbing, and not that of anybody else.”
Presently Father Elephant arrived, and Mother Elephant asked, “What were
you sobbing for, father? What have you done to yourself?” Father Elephant
replied, “I made a wager with Friend Tiger about shaking down a Monkey,
and Friend Tiger beat me; I menaced the Monkey, but he did not fall; if
he had fallen to me, I was to have eaten Friend Tiger, but if he fell to
Friend Tiger, Friend Tiger was to eat me. I was beaten, and now Friend
Tiger says he is going to eat me. So I begged leave to come home and see
you, and he has given me just seven days’ respite.”
Now for the seven days Father Elephant kept sobbing aloud, and neither
ate nor slept. And the thing came to the hearing of Friend Mouse-deer.
“What can be the matter with Friend Elephant that he keeps bellowing and
bellowing, neither does he sleep, so that night is turned into day, and
day into night? What on earth is the matter with him? Suppose I go and
see” (said the Mouse-deer). Then the Mouse-deer went to see what was
wrong, and asked, “What is the matter with you, Friend Elephant, that we
hear you bellowing and bellowing every single day and every single night,
just now, too, when the Rams are upon us? You are far too noisy.”
But the Elephant said, “It is no mere empty noise, Friend Mouse-deer,
I have got into a dreadful scrape.” “What sort of a scrape?” inquired
the Mouse-deer. “I made a wager with Friend Tiger about shaking down a
Monkey, and he beat me.” “What was the stake?” asked the Mouse-deer. “The
stake was that Friend Tiger might eat me if Friend Tiger frightened it
down; and if I frightened it down, I might eat Friend Tiger. It fell to
Friend Tiger, and now Friend Tiger wants to eat me. And my reason for
not eating or sleeping any more is that I have got only just seven days’
respite to go home and visit my wife and children and to make my will.”
Then the Mouse-deer said, “If it came to Friend Tiger’s eating you, I
should feel exceedingly sorrowful, exceedingly distressed; but things
being only as you say, I feel neither.” “If you will assist me, I will
become your slave, and my descendant shall be your slaves forever.” “Very
well, if that is the case, I will assist you,” said the Mouse-deer. “Go
and look for a jar full of molasses.” Friend Elephant promised to do so,
and went to look for it at the house of a maker of Palm-wine. The owner
of the house fled for his life, and the jar fell into Friend Elephant’s
possession, who bore it back to the Mouse-deer.
Then Friend Mouse-deer said, “When does your promise expire?” and Friend
Elephant replied, “To-morrow.” So when next morning arrived they started,
and the Mouse-deer said, “Now pour the molasses over your back and let it
spread and spread and run down your legs.” Friend Elephant did as he was
ordered. Friend Mouse-deer then instructed the Elephant as follows: “As
soon as I begin to lick up the molasses on your back, bellow as loud as
you can and make believe to be hurt, and writhe and wriggle this way and
that.”
And presently Friend Mouse-deer commenced to lick hard, and Friend
Elephant writhed and wriggled and made believe to be hurt, and made a
prodigious noise of trumpeting. In this way they proceeded and Friend
Mouse-deer got up and sat astride upon Friend Elephant’s back. And the
Elephant trumpeted and trumpeted all the way till they met with Friend
Tiger. At this Friend Mouse-deer exclaimed, “A single Elephant is very
short commons; if I could only catch that big and fat old Tiger there, it
would be just enough to satisfy my hunger.”
Now when Friend Tiger heard these words of the Mouse-deer, he said to
himself, “So I suppose if you catch me, you’ll eat me into the bargain,
will you?” And Friend Tiger stayed not a moment longer, but fled for his
life, fetching very lofty bounds. And soon he met with the Black Ape,
and Friend Ape asked, “Why running so hard, Friend Tiger? Why so much
noise, and why, just when the Rams are upon us, too, do you go fetching
such lofty bounds?” Friend Tiger replied, “What do you mean by ‘So much
noise’? What was the Thing that was got upon Friend Elephant’s back, that
had caught Friend Elephant and was devouring him so that he went writhing
and wriggling for the pain of it, and the blood went streaming down in
floods? Moreover the Thing that was on Friend Elephant’s back said, to my
hearing, that a single Elephant was very short commons; but if It could
catch a fat old Tiger like myself that would be just enough to satisfy
Its hunger.” Friend Ape said, “What was that Thing, Friend Tiger?” “I
don’t know,” said the Tiger. “Ah,” mused the Ape, “I wonder if It _could_
be Friend Mouse-deer!” “Certainly not,” said the Tiger; “why, how in the
world could Friend Mouse-deer swallow _Me_? To say nothing of his not
being used to meat food” (said he). “Come and let us go back again.”
Then they went back again to find the Elephant, and first the Ape went
the faster, and then the Tiger went the faster, and then the Ape got in
front again. But Friend Mouse-deer sitting on Friend Elephant’s back saw
them coming and shouted, “Hallo, Father Ape” (said he), “this is a dog’s
trick indeed; you promise to bring me two Tigers and you only bring me
one. I refuse to accept it, Father Ape.”
Now when the Tiger heard this, he ran off at first as fast as he could,
but presently he slackened his pace and said, “It is too bad of you,
Friend Ape, for trying to cozen me in order to pay your own debts. For
shame! Father Ape! It was only through good luck that he refused to
accept me; if he had accepted, I should have been dead and done with. So
now, if you come down to the ground, you shall die the death yourself,
just for your trying to cheat me.”
Thus the Tiger and the Ape were set at enmity, and to this day the Tiger
is very wroth with the Ape for trying to cheat him. And here the story
ends.
HOW THE TORTOISE OUTRAN THE DEER
By C. F. Hartt
A Tortoise met a Deer out walking, one day, and asked him what he was
looking for. The Deer answered, “I am out for a walk, to see if I cannot
find something to eat; and pray where are you going, Tortoise?”
“Oh, out walking, looking for water to drink.”
“How soon do you expect to reach the water?” asked the Deer.
“Why do you ask that question?” returned the Tortoise.
“Because your legs are so short.”
“Well!” answered the Tortoise, “I can run faster than you can. If you are
long-legged you cannot run so fast as I.”
“Then let us run a race!” said the Deer.
“Well,” answered the Tortoise, “when shall we run?”
“To-morrow.”
“At what time?”
“Very early in the morning.”
“All right,” assented the Tortoise, who then went into the forest and
called together his relations, the other Tortoises, saying, “Come on,
let’s catch him!”
“But how are you going to catch him?” they inquired.