"Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart towards the sex; and it
is not to be wondered at that so tempting a morsel soon found favor
in his eyes, more especially after he had visited her in her
paternal mansion. Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a
thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it is true,
sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his
own farm; but within those everything was snug, happy, and
well-conditioned. He was satisfied with his wealth, but not proud
of it; and piqued himself upon the hearty abundance rather than the
style in which he lived. His stronghold was situated on the banks
of the Hudson, in one of those green, sheltered, fertile nooks in
which the Dutch farmers are so fond of nestling. A great elm-tree
spread its broad branches over it, at the foot of which bubbled up
a spring, of the softest and sweetest water, in a little well,
formed of a barrel, and then stole sparkling away through the grass
to a neighboring brook, that bubbled along among alders and dwarf
willows. Hard by the farm-house was a vast barn, that might have
served for a church, every window and crevice of which seemed
bursting forth with the treasures of the farm. The flail was
busily resounding within it from morning till night; swallows and
martins skimmed twittering about the eaves; and rows of pigeons,
some with one eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with
their heads under their wings, or buried in their bosoms, and
others swelling and cooing and bowing about their dames, were
enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek, unwieldy porkers were
grunting in the repose and abundance of their pens, whence sallied
forth, now and then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the
air. A stately squadron of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining
pond, convoying whole fleets of ducks; regiments of turkeys were
gobbling through the farm-yard, and guinea fowls fretting about it,
like ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish, discontented cry.
Before the barn door strutted the gallant cock, that pattern of a
husband, a warrior, and a fine gentleman, clapping his burnished
wings, and crowing in the pride and gladness of his heart
--sometimes tearing up the earth with his feet, and then generously
calli