THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW(睡谷的传说).pdf

THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW
THE LEGEND OF
SLEEPY HOLLOW
by Washington Irving
1
THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW
Found among the papers of the late Diedrech 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 of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by
the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always
prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when
they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which by some
is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly known by
the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are told, in former days,
by the good housewives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate
propensity of their husbands to linger about the village 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 far from this village,
perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley or rather lap of land among
high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small
brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and
the occasional whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpecker is almost the
only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.
I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel-shooting
was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had
wandered into it at noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was
startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around
and was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should
wish for a retreat whither I might steal from the world and its dist