GOOD STORIES HAVE SERVED US WELL OVER THE CENTURIES
FICTION COLORS TOGETHER, THE BLACK AND WHITE OF SKETCHES
Muffin has just this moment, jumped in the air, to clear a path for a tumbling maple leaf, blown across our path. She is nervous of such things, and insects that may be encountered on a walk through the hazy woods. A neighbor of The Bog, has been sneezing, while out raking leaves, and she doesn't like that noise whatsoever. Part of her fear stems from her early years, of being kept in less than ideal conditions, and potentially housed in a metal shed that amplified the sound of rain and thunder amongst other intrusive urban sounds.
Just before publishing today's part three, of Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," I took our own bandy legged wee beastie, "Muffin", for a walk through the foot-trails above The Bog. It was pleasant, except for the sharp wind and the fact Muffin was spooked by almost everything that either blew across our path, or snapped in the overhead branches.
Since Muffin arrived at Birch Hollow, last January, we have had a lot to learn, about the little white dog we adopted from the Humane Society. Muffin had belonged to someone who was raising these type of dogs for sale, and for whatever reason, decided that Christmas Eve, was the best time to surrender it, to the Bracebridge shelter, of the Ontario Society For The Prevention of Cruelty To Animals. It was under-weight and had to have major dental work completed, and it took us a long time to figure-out its food sensitivities. Let's just say, Muffin had been fed, since its early days, a diet of pizza crusts and lots of peanut butter. Having a better diet wasn't as easy as just changing food options, because she wasn't used to the richer meals, and couldn't keep it on her stomach. Gradually, she has been putting on weight, and her diet is now quite normal, but she still hangs around when someone in the family is having peanut butter on toast.
The point for bringing this up, as an opening for today's blog, is that we have also had to deal with a plethora of other issues with Muffin, that have had everything to do with where she was kept on a former property; and what type of building was used to house the dogs. Muffin, even by three years of age, had been pregnant twice. I get mad thinking about this, and as a family, I know we try to make-up for those unfortunate first years, and are guilty of going overboard with luxuries for the little pooch.
Muffin is dreadfully frightened of rain and thunderstorms. It may have been the case, a shed she was housed in, with other dogs, amplified the sound of both heavy rain and thunder, making it deafening to her ears. She runs and gets up on one of our laps, and nestles her head into our chests, to muffle the sound. She dislikes the sound of the wind, and last evening and this morning, there was just enough, rattling the upper boughs of the hardwoods above the bog, that she began to shiver and try to shelter between my feet. She is particularly wary of the long blowing grasses of the outside edge of the forest, sure that some wild creature is about to pounce on her; making a walk up and down our lane next to impossible. She will just stop, stand, and listen intently to what is happening around us, and when she does decide to move, it may only be a few feet at a time, before stopping again to study the lay of the land.
I was standing with Muffin, here in this little neighborhood paradise, just a few moments ago, when she struck one of those poses, anticipating something or other was going to rise out of the quagmire to threaten us. Heaven only knows what goes on in the tiny creature's mind, when faced with these fearful sounds. We stood for a long while, on the brink of the lowland, and the little creek that snakes its way through the mounds of dried grasses and retired ferns, and splashes along with a myriad of minor cataracts, all the way down to the bay. The sun was only a few moments away from setting, and there's no question, the autumn scene in and around The Bog, has a haunting, eerie quality; and one might expect wolves and coyotes to appear on the far embankment, sensing a fine meal had just presented. We encountered three deer the night before, leaping out of the hollow, and that nearly frightened poor muffin out of her thick white fur. Tonight, the low light and lessening shadows, the old half-fallen trees, and bare branches of the hardwoods across the way, makes it all look so "Hallowe'en spooky", and the hooting of a venerable owl, is a sort of finishing touch, that pushes Muffin tighter to my leg, just in case the great bird might swoop in for the kill.
I don't know how Muffin the dog, would react to the storming, firey stride of the powerful steed, that would carry Sleepy Hollow's Headless Horseman, on his midnight ride, flaming pumpkin in hand, to throw at poor Ichabod Crane, Washington Irving's clever creation of a tragic figure, for his legendary short story. This is not the Hudson River Valley, and we are no where near Sleepy Hollow, as Irving penned it, in his 1819 "Sketch Book," but there is some enchantment in the air. Muffin can feel it. Well, so can I. What about you?
Here now is part three of Washington Irving's, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Hope you enjoy it!
BRACEBRIDGE, MUSKOKA, AND THE LEGENDARY RIDE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN
ICHABOD....POOR FELLOW
"IRVING DIED ON THE NIGHT OF NOVEMBER 28TH, 1859, AND ALL THAT WAS MORTAL OF HIM WAS BURIED ON THE 1ST OF DECEMBER, AT TARRYTOWN. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL WINTER DAY, CLEAR AND SUNNY, RADIANT WITH THE STILL LINGERING INDIAN SUMMER, WHICH SHED A SOFT AND MELANCHOLY LIGHT OVER THE SOLEMN SCENE. 'IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN DAYS,' SAID THE MOURNERS, AS THEY RODE FROM 'SUNNYSIDE,' TO CHRIST CHURCH, WHERE THE FUNERAL SERVICES WERE HELD, AND THENCE TO THE CEMETERY, ABOUT A MILE DISTANT, ON THE SIDE OF A HILL, WITH A VIEW OF THE HUDSON ON ONE SIDE, AND ON THE OTHER, OF THE VALLEY OF SLEEPY HOLLOW - CLASSIC GROUND WHICH THE GENIUS OF IRVING HAS MADE IMMORTAL," WROTE RICHARD HENRY STODDARD, IN HIS BRIEF BIOGRAPHY, ACCOMPANYING THE 1893 REPUBLICATION OF "THE SKETCH BOOK."
MY 1893 EDITION OF WASHINGTON IRVING'S, "THE SKETCH BOOK," IS NEARING THE POINT, WHERE LIKE ICHABOD CRANE, IT WILL SOON RETURN TO THE EARTH FROM WHICH IT CAME. ONE OF THREE IN THE REPRINT SERIES FROM THE 1890'S, I PURCHASED AT THE EWING ESTATE AUCTION, IN THE MID 1980'S, AT THE ZISKA ROAD FARMSTEAD, IN BRACEBRIDGE, IS IN FAILING HEALTH, DUE TO THE POORER QUALITY PAPER ON WHICH IT WAS PRINTED. THE ACID CONTENT IN THE PAPER IS ACTUALLY WORKING FROM THE INSIDE OUT, TO TURN THE PAPER INTO A FINE DUST. I'VE HAD SEVERAL BOOKS DETERIORATE IN THIS FASHION, BUT THEY WERE NEVER VALUABLE TEXTS TO START WITH. WHILE I WOULD LIKE TO OWN FIRST EDITIONS OF BOTH "THE SKETCH BOOK," FROM 1819 AND "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," CIRCA 1822, I DON'T HAVE THE THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IT WOULD TAKE TO MAKE THE ACQUISITIONS. THE CHEAPER VERSIONS OF THE SAME BOOKS, OF THE 1890'S, WERE PUBLISHED FOR THE MASSES, AND WERE OFTEN KNOWN BROADLY AS THE "POPULAR EDITION," AND THE "CHEAP EDITION." THE PAPER WAS OF LESSER QUALITY, AND YET, IT HAS STILL LASTED FOR WELL MORE THAN A CENTURY, UP TO AND INCLUDING HALLOWEEN 2013....AND ITS OBLIGING KINDNESS TO THIS WRITER, OFFERING THE OPEN PAGES OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW." I WILL LOOK AFTER THIS BOOK, AS BEST I CAN, IN AN ARCHIVE'S SENSE, BUT I KNOW IT WON'T BE OF MUCH USE IN ANOTHER TEN YEARS, AS EVEN NOW, ALL IT WOULD TAKE IS A MODEST AMOUNT OF ROUGH HANDLING TO DISINTEGRATE TOTALLY. IT IS KIND OF A SPIRITED LITTLE COLLECTION, AND IT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME, IN THE FACT THAT IT CAME FROM A BRACEBRDIGE AREA FARMSTEAD, WHEN THE TOWN ITSELF CARRIES THE PROVENANCE OF WASHINGTON IRVING. IF YOU ARE JUST JOINING THE BLOG TODAY, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO MONDAY, WHEN THE WASHINGTON IRVING SERIES BEGAN. YOU WILL LEARN ABOUT THE PROVENANCE BETWEEN WASHINGTON IRVING'S BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AND HOW THE NAME WAS SELECTED BY POSTAL AUTHORITY, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, IN 1864, FOR THE TITLE OF THE NEW POST OFFICE FOR THE PIONEER HAMLET. THE UNFORTUNATE REALITY IS, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE HAS NEVER IN ITS HISTORY, DECIDED PUBLICLY, AT LEAST, TO FURTHER DEVELOP THE INHERENTLY POSITIVE RELATIONSHIP, WITH ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN WRITERS IN THE WORLD. PITY.
WE NOW REVIST THE LAST FEW MOMENTS OF THE WILD WOODLAND RIDE, OF IRVING'S TRAGIC CHARACTER, ICHABOD CRANE, THE TEACHER AT THE SLEEPY HOLLOW SCHOOL. IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, ICHABOD WAS BEING CHASED, ON HIS WAY HOME, BY THE HESSIAN TROOPER, BETTER KNOWN AS "THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN." IT'S IS EXPECTED BY IRVING, THAT READERS WILL UNDERSTAND THE HORSEMAN, BY SPECULATION,TO BE THE CHARACTER BRAM BONES, THE OTHER MAN IN COMPETITION FOR ONE OF THE SLEEPY HOLLOW DAMSELS. JEALOUSY CAN LED TO MANY SUCH MISADVENTURES. OR, WAS IT A TRUE TO LIFE CASE OF THE SUPERNATURAL MANIFESTATION, OF A FORMER SOLDIER, SEARCHING FOR HIS LOST HEAD.....THE RESULT OF BEING IN THE WAY OF CANNON FIRE, DURING AN UNNAMED BATTLE OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. PLEASE READ ON:
"AN OPENING IN THE TREES CHEERED HIM WITH THE HOPE, THAT THE CHURCH BRIDGE WAS AT HAND," WROTE WASHINGTON IRVING, OF ICHABOD CRANE'S ILL FATED RIDE, AGAINST THE DARK APPARITION ON THE THUNDEROUSLY LARGE, GALLOPING STEED, IN THE FINAL PARAGRAPHS OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."
"THE WAVERING REFLECTION OF A SILVER STAR IN THE BOSOM OF THE BROOK, TOLD HIM THAT HE WAS NOT MISTAKEN. HE SAW THE WALLS OF THE CHURCH DIMLY GLARING UNDER THE TREES BEYOND. HE (ICHABOD) RECOLLECTED WHERE BROM BONES' GHOSTLY COMPETITOR HAD DISAPPEARED. 'IF I CAN BUT REACH THAT BRIDGE,' THOUGHT ICHABOD. 'I AM SAFE'. JUST THEN HE HEARD THE BLACK STEED PANTING AND BLOWING CLOSE BEHIND HIM; HE EVEN FANCIED THAT HE FELT HIS HOT BREATH. ANOTHER CONVULSIVE KICK IN THE RIBS, AND OLD GUNPOWDER SPRUNG UPON THE BRIDGE; HE THUNDERED OVER THE RESOUNDING PLANKS; HE GAINED THE OPPOSITE SIDE, AND NOW ICHABOD CAST A LOOK BEHIND, TO SEE IF HIS PURSUER SHOULD VANISH, ACCORDING TO RULE IN A FLASH OF FIRE AND BRIMSTONE. JUST THEN HE SAW THE GOBLIN RISING IN HIS STIRRUPS, AND IN THE VERY ACT OF HURLING HIS HEAD AT HIM. ICHABOD ENDEAVOURED TO DODGE THE HORRIBLE MISSILE, BUT TOO LATE. IT ENCOUNTERED HIS CRANIUM WITH A TREMENDOUS CRASH - HE WAS TUMBLED HEADLONG INTO THE DUST, AND GUNPOWDER, THE BLACK STEED, AND THE GOBLIN RIDER, PASSED BY LIKE A WHIRLWIND," WROTE IRVING, OF THE TEACHER, HAVING BEEN KNOCKED VIOLENTLY OFF HIS MOUNT. BY OF ALL THINGS, A THROWN HEAD....WHICH TURNED OUT SOMEWHAT DIFFERENTLY UPON FINAL INSPECTION.
"THE NEXT MORNING THE OLD HORSE WAS FOUND WITHOUT HIS SADDLE AND WITH THE BRIDLE UNDER HIS FEET, SOBERLY CROPPING THE GRASS AT HIS MASTER'S GATE. ICHABOD DID NOT MAKE HIS APPEARANCE AT BREAKFAST - DINNER HOUR CAME, BUT NO ICHABOD. THE BOYS ASSEMBLED AT THE SCHOOL-HOUSE, AND STROLLED IDLY ABOUT THE BANKS OF THE BROOK; BUT NO SCHOOL MASTER. HANS VAN RIPPER NOW BEGAN TO FEEL SOME UNEASINESS ABOUT THE FATE OF POOR ICHABOD, AND HIS SADDLE. AN INQUIRY WAS SET ON FOOT, AND AFTER DILIGENT INVESTIGATION, THEY CAME UPON HIS TRACES. IN ONE PART OF THE ROAD LEADING TO THE CHURCH, WAS FOUND THE SADDLE TRAMPLED IN THE DIRT; THE TRACKS OF HORSES' HOOFS DEEPLY DENTED IN THE ROAD, AND EVIDENTLY AT A FURIOUS SPEED, WERE TRACED TO THE BRIDGE BEYOND WHICH, ON THE BANK OF A BROAD PART OF THE BROOK, WHERE THE WATER RAN DEEP AND BLACK, WAS FOUND THE HAT OF THE UNFORTUNAE ICHABOD, AND CLOSE BESIDE IT, A PUMPKIN."
THE AUTHOR REPORTS, "THE BROOK WAS SEARCHED, BUT THE BODY OF THE SCHOOL MASTER WAS NOT TO BE DISCOVERED. HANS VAN RIPPER, AS EXECUTOR OF HIS ESTATE, EXAMINED THE SADDLE, WHICH CONTAINED ALL HIS WORDLY EFFECTS. THEY CONSISTED OF TWO SHIRTS AND A HALF; TWO SOCKS FOR THE NECK; A PAIR OF TWO WORSTED STOCKINGS; AN OLD PAIR OF CORDUROY SMALL-CLOTHES; A RUSTY RAZOR; A BOOK OF PSALM TUNES FULL OF DOG'S EARS (FOLDED CORNERS); AND A BROKEN PITCH PIPE. AS TO THE BOOKS AND FURNITURE OF THE SCHOOL HOUSE, THEY BELONGED TO THE COMMUNITY, EXCEPTING COTTON MATHER'S HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT, A NEW ENGLAND GLAND ALMANAC, AND A BOOK OF DREAMS AND FORTUNE-TELLING; IN WHICH LAST WAS A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP, MUCH SCRIBBLED AND BLOTTED BY SEVERAL FRUITLESS ATTEMPTS TO MAKE A COPY OF VERSES, IN HONOUR OF THE HEIRESS OF VAN TASSEL. THESE MAGIC BOOKS AND THE POETIC SCRAWL WERE FORTHRIGHT CONSIGNED TO THE FLAMES BY HANS VAN RIPPER; WHO FROM THAT TIME FORWARD, DETERMINED TO SEND HIS CHILDREN NO MORE TO SCHOOL; OBSERVING THAT HE NEVER KNEW ANY GOOD COME OF THIS SAME READING AND WRITING. WHATEVER MONEY THE SCHOOL MASTER POSSESSED, AND HE HAD RECEIVED HIS QUARTER'S PAY BUT A DAY OR TWO BEFORE, HE MUST HAVE HAD ABOUT HIS PERSON AT THE TIME OF HIS DISAPPEARANCE.
"THE MYSTERIOUS EVENT CAUSED MUCH SPECULATION AT THE CHURCH ON THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY. KNOTS OF GAZERS AND GOSSIPS WERE COLLECTED IN THE CHURCHYARD, AT THE BRIDGE, AND AT THE SPOT WHERE THE HAT AND PUMPKIN HAD BEEN FOUND. THE STORIES OF BROUWER, BROM BONES AND A WHOLE BUDGET OF OTHERS, WERE CALLED TO MIND, AND WHEN THEY HAD DILLIGENTLY CONSIDERED THEM ALL, AND COMPARED THEM WITH THE SYMPTONS OF THE PRESENT CASE, THEY SHOOK THEIR HEADS, AND CAME TO THE CONCLUSION, THAT ICHABOD HAD BEEN CARRIED OFF BY THE GALLOPING HESSIAN. AS HE WAS A BACHELOR, AND IN NOBODY'S DEBT, NOBODY TROUBLED HIS HEAD ANY MORE ABOUT HIM; THE SCHOOL WAS REMOVED TO A DIFFERENT QUARTER OF THE HOLLOW, AND ANOTHER PEDAGOGUE REIGNED IN HIS STEAD.
"IT IS TRUE, AN OLD FARMER, WHO HAD BEEN DOWN TO NEW YORK ON A VISIT SEVERAL YEARS AFTER, AND FROM WHOM THIS ACCOUNT OF THE GHOSTLY ADVENTURES WAS RECEIVED, BROUGHT HOME THE INTELLIGENE THAT ICHABOD CRANE WAS STILL ALIVE; THAT HE HAD LEFT THE NEIGHBOURHOOD, PARTLY THROUGH FEAR OF THE GOBLIN AND HANS VAN RIPPER, AND PARTLY IN MORTIFICATION AT HAVING BEEN SUDDENLY DISMISSED BY THE HEIRESS; THAT HE HAD CHANGED HIS QUARTERS TO A DISTANT PART OF THE COUNTRY; HAD KEPT SCHOOL AND STUDIED LAW AT THE SAME TIME; HAD BEEN ADMITTED TO THE BAR; TURNED POLITICIAN; ELECTIONEERED; WRITTEN FOR NEWSPAPERS; AND FINALLY HAD BEEN MADE A JUSTICE OF THE TEN POUND COURT. BROM BONES, TOO, WHO, SHORTLY AFTER HIS RIVAL'S DISAPPEARANCE, CONDUCTED THE BLOOMING KATRINA IN TRIUMPH TO THE ALTAR, WAS OBSERVED TO LOOK EXCEEDINGLY KNOWING WHENEVER THE STORY OF ICHABOD WAS RELATED, AND ALWAYS BURST INTO A HEARTY LAUGH AT THE MENTION OF THE PUMPKIN; WHICH LED SOME TO SUSPECT THAT HE KNEW MORE ABOUT THE MATTER THAN HE CHOSE TO TELL.
"THE OLD COUNTRY WIVES, HOWEVER, WHO ARE THE BEST JUDGES OF THESE MATTERS, MAINTAIN TO THIS DAY, THAT ICHABOD WAS SPIRITED AWAY BY SUPERNATURAL MEANS; AND IT IS A FAVORITE STORY OFTEN TOLD ABOUT THE NEIGHBORHOOD ROUND THE WINTER EVENING FIRE. THE BRIDGE BECAME MORE THAN EVER AN OBJECT OF SUPERSTITIOUS AWE; AND THAT MAY BE THE REASON WHY THE ROAD HAS BEEN ALTERED OF LATE YEARS, SO AS TO APPROACH THE CHURCH BY THE BORDER OF THE MILL POND. THE SCHOOL HOUSE BEING DESERTED, SOON FELL TO DECAY, AND WAS REPORTED TO BE HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF THE UNFORTUNATE PEDAGOGUE; AND THE PLOUGH-BOY, LOITERING HOMEWARD OF A STILL SUMMER EVENING, HAS OFTEN FANCIED HIS VOICE AT A DISTANCE, CHANTING A MELANCHOLY PSALM TUNE, AMONG THE TRANQUIL SOLITUDES OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."
I HOPE ONE DAY, IN THE NOT TOO DISTANT FUTURE, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, WILL FIND REASON, AND INITIATIVE, TO ENGAGE THEMSELVES IN THE PROVENANCE OF WHICH THEY ARE ENTITLED. THANKS FOR JOINING TODAY'S BLOG. AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN, IN KEEPING WITH THE SITUATION.
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