点击下载: THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW.doc

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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.
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