autumnal urchins application cavalier
pensive pommel apparition genuine
horizon plumage luxurious gradually
On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on
the lofty stool from whence he watched the doings of his little school. In
his hand he held a ferule, that scepter of despotic power; the birch of
justice reposed on three nails behind the stool, a constant terror to evil
doers; while on the desk were sundry contraband articles taken from idle
urchins, such as half-eaten apples, popguns, whirligigs, and fly cages.
His scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering
behind them with one eye kept upon the master, and a kind of buzzing
stillness reigned throughout the schoolroom.
This stillness was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro, in
tow-cloth jacket and trousers, who, mounted on the back of a ragged, wild,
half-broken colt, came clattering up to the schoolhouse door. He brought
an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merrymaking, or “quilting frolic,” to
be held that evening at the house of Herr Van Tassel; and having delivered
his message, he dashed over the brook, and was seen scampering away up the
hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his mission.
All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet schoolroom. The scholars
were hurried through their lessons. Those who were nimble skipped over
half without being noticed; and those who were slow were hurried along by
a smart application of the rod. Then books were flung aside without being
put away on the shelves; inkstands were overturned, benches thrown down,
and the whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual time, the
children yelping and racketing about the green, in joy at their early
freedom.
The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at his toilet,
brushing and furbishing his best and only suit of rusty black, and
arranging his looks by a bit of broken looking-glass that hung up in the
schoolhouse. That he might make his appearance at the party in the true
style of a cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was
boarding, and, thus gallantly mounted, rode forth, like a knight-errant in
quest of adventures.
The animal he bestrode was a broken-down plow horse. He was gaunt and
shagged, with a slender neck, and a head like a hammer. His mane and tail
were tangled and knotted with burs. One eye had lost its pupil, and was
glaring and spectral, but the other still gleamed with genuine wickedness.
He must have had plenty of fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge
from his name, which was Gunpowder.
Ichabod was a rider suited for such a steed. He rode with short stirrups,
which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle; his elbows
stuck out like a grasshopper’s; and as the horse jogged on, the motion of
his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A small wool hat
rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty strip of forehead might
be called; and the skirts of his black coat fluttered out almost to the
horse’s tail. Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed as they
shambled along the highway; and it was altogether such an apparition as is
seldom to be met with in broad daylight.
It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day. The sky was clear and serene.
The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of
the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frost into brilliant dyes of
orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began to make
their appearance high in the air. The bark of the squirrel might be heard
from the groves of beech and hickory, and the pensive whistle of the quail
at intervals from the neighboring stubble fields.
The small birds fluttered, chirping and frolicking, from bush to bush, and
tree to tree, gay and happy because of the plenty and variety around them.
There were the twittering blackbirds, flying in sable clouds; and the
golden-winged woodpecker, with his crimson crest and splendid plumage; and
the cedar bird, with its red-tipped wings and yellow-tipped tail; and the
blue jay, in his gay, light-blue coat and white underclothes, screaming
and chattering, nodding and bowing, and pretending to be on good terms
with every songster of the grove.
As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye ranged with delight over
the treasures of jolly autumn. On all sides he beheld vast store of
apples,--some still hanging on the trees, some gathered into baskets and
barrels for the market, others heaped up in rich piles for the cider
press. Farther on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden
ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding out the promise of
cakes and hasty pudding. There, too, were multitudes of yellow pumpkins
turning up their yellow sides to the sun, and giving ample prospects of
the most luxurious of pies. And anon he passed the fragrant buckwheat
fields, breathing the odor of the beehive; and as he beheld them, he
dreamed of dainty slapjacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey.
Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts, he journeyed along the
sides of a range of hills which look out upon some of the goodliest scenes
of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down
into the west. A few amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath
of air to move them. The horizon was of a fine, golden tint, changing
gradually into a pure apple-green, and from that into the deep blue of the
midheaven. A slanting ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices
that overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark
gray and purple of their rocky sides.