than
a fair lady's heart. Without looking to the right or left to notice
the scene of rural wealth on which he had so often gloated, he went
straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs and kicks roused
his steed most uncourteously from the comfortable quarters in which he
was soundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn and oats, and whole
valleys of timothy and clover.

It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and
crestfallen, pursued his travel homeward, along the sides of the lofty
hills which rise above Tarry Town, and which he had traversed so
cheerily in the afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far
below him the Tappaan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of
waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, riding quietly at
anchor under the land. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear
the barking of the watch-dog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but
it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from
this faithful companion of man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn
crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off,
from some farmhouse away among the hills--but it was like a dreaming
sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally
the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a
bullfrog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, and
turning suddenly in his bed.

All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in the
afternoon now came crowding upon his recollection. The night grew
darker and darker, the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and
driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt
so lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, approaching the very place
where many of the scenes of the ghost stories had been laid. In the
center of the road stood an enormous tulip tree, which towered like a
giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a kind
of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enough to
form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and
rising again into the air. It was connected with the tragical story of
the unfortunate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard by; and was
universally known by the name of Major Andre's tree. The common people
regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of
sympathy for the fate of its i