The Legend of Sleepy Hollow | Page 7

ready for either a fight or a frolic;
but had more mischief than ill-will in his composition; and with all his
overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good humor
at bottom. He had three or four boon companions, who regarded him as
their model, and at the head of whom he scoured the country, attending
every scene of feud or merriment for miles round. In cold weather he
was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox's tail;
and when the folks at a country gathering descried this well-known
crest at a distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they
always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be heard

dashing along past the farmhouses at midnight, with whoop and halloo,
like a troop of Don Cossacks; and the old dames, startled out of their
sleep, would listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by,
and then exclaim, "Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!" The
neighbors looked upon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and
good-will; and, when any madcap prank or rustic brawl occurred in the
vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at
the bottom of it.
This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the blooming Katrina
for the object of his uncouth gallantries, and though his amorous
toyings were something like the gentle caresses and endearments of a
bear, yet it was whispered that she did not altogether discourage his
hopes. Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival candidates to
retire, who felt no inclination to cross a lion in his amours; insomuch,
that when his horse was seen tied to Van Tassel's paling, on a Sunday
night, a sure sign that his master was courting, or, as it is termed,
"sparking," within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and carried
the war into other quarters.
Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane had to
contend, and, considering all things, a stouter man than he would have
shrunk from the competition, and a wiser man would have despaired.
He had, however, a happy mixture of pliability and perseverance in his
nature; he was in form and spirit like a supple-jack--yielding, but tough;
though he bent, he never broke; and though he bowed beneath the
slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away--jerk!--he was as erect,
and carried his head as high as ever.
To have taken the field openly against his rival would have been
madness; for he was not a man to be thwarted in his amours, any more
than that stormy lover, Achilles. Ichabod, therefore, made his advances
in a quiet and gently insinuating manner. Under cover of his character
of singing-master, he made frequent visits at the farmhouse; not that he
had anything to apprehend from the meddlesome interference of
parents, which is so often a stumbling-block in the path of lovers. Balt
Van Tassel was an easy indulgent soul; he loved his daughter better

even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man and an excellent father,
let her have her way in everything. His notable little wife, too, had
enough to do to attend to her housekeeping and manage her poultry; for,
as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be
looked after, but girls can take care of themselves. Thus, while the busy
dame bustled about the house, or plied her spinning-wheel at one end
of the piazza, honest Balt would sit smoking his evening pipe at the
other, watching the achievements of a little wooden warrior, who,
armed with a sword in each hand, was most valiantly fighting the wind
on the pinnacle of the barn. In the mean time, Ichabod would carry on
his suit with the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm,
or sauntering along in the twilight, that hour so favorable to the lover's
eloquence.
I profess not to know how women's hearts are wooed and won. To me
they have always been matters of riddle and admiration. Some seem to
have but one vulnerable point, or door of access; while others have a
thousand avenues, and may be captured in a thousand different ways. It
is a great triumph of skill to gain the former, but a still greater proof of
generalship to maintain possession of the latter, for man must battle for
his fortress at every door and window. He who wins a thousand
common hearts is therefore entitled to some renown; but he who keeps
undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette is indeed a hero. Certain it
is, this was not the case with the redoubtable Brom Bones; and from the
moment Ichabod Crane made his advances, the interests of the