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The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

A picture-story retelling, after Washington Irving (1820)

A gently spooky tale: the Headless Horseman is eerie but never gruesome.

The text of our illustrated edition, page by page. Read it with narration.

Not far from Tarry Town, where the Hudson widens into the broad Tappan Zee, there lay a little valley among high hills, one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook murmured through its meadows. Folk called it Sleepy Hollow. — 1Not far from Tarry Town, where the Hudson widens into the broad Tappan Zee, there lay a little valley among high hills, one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook murmured through its meadows. Folk called it Sleepy Hollow.

A drowsy spell seemed to hang over the valley. The old farmers swore it had been bewitched long ago, by a German doctor or an old Indian wizard, and told of voices in the air and haunted spots. "Mark me, this Hollow is under a spell." — 2A drowsy spell seemed to hang over the valley. The old farmers swore it had been bewitched long ago, by a German doctor or an old Indian wizard, and told of voices in the air and haunted spots. "Mark me, this Hollow is under a spell."

The chief spirit haunting that drowsy valley, the country folk whispered, was a Hessian trooper whose head had been carried off by a cannonball in some nameless battle of the Revolutionary War. His body lay buried in the old churchyard, but he never rested easy there. — 3The chief spirit haunting that drowsy valley, the country folk whispered, was a Hessian trooper whose head had been carried off by a cannonball in some nameless battle of the Revolutionary War. His body lay buried in the old churchyard, but he never rested easy there.

Each night the headless ghost galloped out of the churchyard like a midnight wind, riding off to the old battlefield to hunt for his lost head, and racing back before daybreak. At every fireside in the region he was known as the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. — 4Each night the headless ghost galloped out of the churchyard like a midnight wind, riding off to the old battlefield to hunt for his lost head, and racing back before daybreak. At every fireside in the region he was known as the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

Into this drowsy valley came Ichabod Crane of Connecticut to teach the children. He was tall and lank, with dangling hands, huge ears and a long snipe nose, and he looked like a scarecrow escaped from a cornfield. — 5Into this drowsy valley came Ichabod Crane of Connecticut to teach the children. He was tall and lank, with dangling hands, huge ears and a long snipe nose, and he looked like a scarecrow escaped from a cornfield.

In his log schoolhouse the pupils droned their lessons like a beehive, while the birch rod waited for any tardy loiterer. Ichabod lodged a week at a time with each farmer and ate with the appetite of an anaconda. — 6In his log schoolhouse the pupils droned their lessons like a beehive, while the birch rod waited for any tardy loiterer. Ichabod lodged a week at a time with each farmer and ate with the appetite of an anaconda.

On Sundays Ichabod led the psalm-singing and charmed the country girls. He believed every word of Cotton Mather's book of witchcraft, so on his walk home at dusk every owl's hoot set him quaking, and he sang psalms through his nose. — 7On Sundays Ichabod led the psalm-singing and charmed the country girls. He believed every word of Cotton Mather's book of witchcraft, so on his walk home at dusk every owl's hoot set him quaking, and he sang psalms through his nose.

On long winter evenings Ichabod sat with the old Dutch wives by the crackling fire. They told of haunted bridges and the Headless Horseman. He frightened them woefully by declaring that the world turned round, so they spent half their lives topsy-turvy! — 8On long winter evenings Ichabod sat with the old Dutch wives by the crackling fire. They told of haunted bridges and the Headless Horseman. He frightened them woefully by declaring that the world turned round, so they spent half their lives topsy-turvy!

But he paid dearly for that pleasure on his walk home through the snowy dark. Every shrub looked like a sheeted spectre, and when a blast howled through the trees, he was sure it was the Galloping Hessian out on his nightly ride. — 9But he paid dearly for that pleasure on his walk home through the snowy dark. Every shrub looked like a sheeted spectre, and when a blast howled through the trees, he was sure it was the Galloping Hessian out on his nightly ride.

But Ichabod's quiet life was soon upset by something more puzzling than any ghost: a woman. Katrina Van Tassel, the rosy, flirty eighteen-year-old daughter of a rich Dutch farmer, came to his singing class, and his soft heart was lost at once. — 10But Ichabod's quiet life was soon upset by something more puzzling than any ghost: a woman. Katrina Van Tassel, the rosy, flirty eighteen-year-old daughter of a rich Dutch farmer, came to his singing class, and his soft heart was lost at once.

When Ichabod visited her father's farm by the Hudson, his mouth watered. The barn was big as a church, and in his mind's eye every pig ran about with an apple in its mouth. "What a feast!" he sighed. — 11When Ichabod visited her father's farm by the Hudson, his mouth watered. The barn was big as a church, and in his mind's eye every pig ran about with an apple in its mouth. "What a feast!" he sighed.

Ichabod longed for the girl who would inherit all these fields and orchards. He dreamed of selling the land and heading west, with Katrina and a whole brood of children piled on a wagon, bound for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord knows where! — 12Ichabod longed for the girl who would inherit all these fields and orchards. He dreamed of selling the land and heading west, with Katrina and a whole brood of children piled on a wagon, bound for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord knows where!

Katrina's most fearsome admirer was Abraham Van Brunt, called Brom Bones: a big, roaring local hero who rode like a Tartar. When his fur cap with its fox's tail came galloping by, folk stood back. "Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!" — 13Katrina's most fearsome admirer was Abraham Van Brunt, called Brom Bones: a big, roaring local hero who rode like a Tartar. When his fur cap with its fox's tail came galloping by, folk stood back. "Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!"

When Brom's horse stood tied at Van Tassel's fence on a Sunday night, the other suitors gave up. But Ichabod was like a supple-jack: he bent but never broke. He courted Katrina quietly, while easygoing Baltus smoked his pipe and left the young people alone. — 14When Brom's horse stood tied at Van Tassel's fence on a Sunday night, the other suitors gave up. But Ichabod was like a supple-jack: he bent but never broke. He courted Katrina quietly, while easygoing Baltus smoked his pipe and left the young people alone.

Ichabod would not fight, so Brom and his gang played pranks on him instead, smoking out the singing school and turning the schoolroom upside down. Brom even taught a scoundrel dog to whine like a psalm-singer. "Here's your new singing-master, Katrina!" — 15Ichabod would not fight, so Brom and his gang played pranks on him instead, smoking out the singing school and turning the schoolroom upside down. Brom even taught a scoundrel dog to whine like a psalm-singer. "Here's your new singing-master, Katrina!"

One fine autumn afternoon a messenger came clattering up to the schoolhouse on a wild, half-broken colt. He brought an invitation to a quilting frolic that very evening at Mynheer Van Tassel's! Ichabod let the whole school out an hour early. — 16One fine autumn afternoon a messenger came clattering up to the schoolhouse on a wild, half-broken colt. He brought an invitation to a quilting frolic that very evening at Mynheer Van Tassel's! Ichabod let the whole school out an hour early.

Ichabod brushed his one rusty black suit, then borrowed Gunpowder from his cranky landlord, Hans Van Ripper. Gunpowder was a bony old plow horse with one blind eye and a wicked gleam in the other. Ichabod rode out with his elbows flapping like wings. — 17Ichabod brushed his one rusty black suit, then borrowed Gunpowder from his cranky landlord, Hans Van Ripper. Gunpowder was a bony old plow horse with one blind eye and a wicked gleam in the other. Ichabod rode out with his elbows flapping like wings.

Through the golden autumn country he jogged, past orchards full of apples, fields of ripe corn and fat yellow pumpkins, while the sun sank over the Tappan Zee. Every sight made him dream of cakes, pies and buttery slapjacks with honey, served by Katrina Van Tassel's own dimpled little hand. — 18Through the golden autumn country he jogged, past orchards full of apples, fields of ripe corn and fat yellow pumpkins, while the sun sank over the Tappan Zee. Every sight made him dream of cakes, pies and buttery slapjacks with honey, served by Katrina Van Tassel's own dimpled little hand.

Toward evening Ichabod reached the Van Tassel farm, where the whole countryside had gathered in their best. But the hero of the scene was Brom Bones, who had come on his steed Daredevil, a creature as full of mettle and mischief as himself. — 19Toward evening Ichabod reached the Van Tassel farm, where the whole countryside had gathered in their best. But the hero of the scene was Brom Bones, who had come on his steed Daredevil, a creature as full of mettle and mischief as himself.

Inside, Ichabod forgot the pretty lasses for a greater charm: a genuine Dutch tea-table heaped with cakes, pies and ham. Old Baltus urged everyone to "fall to, and help themselves," and Ichabod dreamed of the day he might be lord of it all. — 20Inside, Ichabod forgot the pretty lasses for a greater charm: a genuine Dutch tea-table heaped with cakes, pies and ham. Old Baltus urged everyone to "fall to, and help themselves," and Ichabod dreamed of the day he might be lord of it all.

Then the old grey-headed fiddler struck up. Ichabod danced as if every limb had a life of its own, whirling Katrina round the floor as she smiled at his every glance, while Brom Bones sat brooding in a corner, sick with love and jealousy. — 21Then the old grey-headed fiddler struck up. Ichabod danced as if every limb had a life of its own, whirling Katrina round the floor as she smiled at his every glance, while Brom Bones sat brooding in a corner, sick with love and jealousy.

Later the old farmers smoked on the piazza, and each swore he had nearly won the war single-handed. Soon the talk turned to ghosts, above all the Headless Horseman, who tied his horse among the churchyard graves and haunted the dark church bridge. — 22Later the old farmers smoked on the piazza, and each swore he had nearly won the war single-handed. Soon the talk turned to ghosts, above all the Headless Horseman, who tied his horse among the churchyard graves and haunted the dark church bridge.

Brom Bones laughed that he had once raced the Horseman home for a bowl of punch. "Daredevil beat that goblin horse all hollow," he swore, "till the Hessian vanished in a flash of fire at the bridge!" Every tale sank deep into Ichabod's mind. — 23Brom Bones laughed that he had once raced the Horseman home for a bowl of punch. "Daredevil beat that goblin horse all hollow," he swore, "till the Hessian vanished in a flash of fire at the bridge!" Every tale sank deep into Ichabod's mind.

When the party ended, Ichabod stayed behind to speak alone with Katrina, sure that he was winning her heart. What passed between them nobody knows, but something went badly wrong. He soon slunk out, crushed and crestfallen, and stamped off to the stable to shake old Gunpowder awake. — 24When the party ended, Ichabod stayed behind to speak alone with Katrina, sure that he was winning her heart. What passed between them nobody knows, but something went badly wrong. He soon slunk out, crushed and crestfallen, and stamped off to the stable to shake old Gunpowder awake.

At the witching hour Ichabod rode home alone, every ghost story from the evening crowding into his head. At Major André's great tulip-tree, a white shape hung among the branches and something groaned. It was only a lightning scar and two boughs rubbing together. — 25At the witching hour Ichabod rode home alone, every ghost story from the evening crowding into his head. At Major André's great tulip-tree, a white shape hung among the branches and something groaned. It was only a lightning scar and two boughs rubbing together.

At the log bridge over Wiley's Swamp, Gunpowder balked and stopped dead. Then out of the black shadows came a giant cloaked rider on a powerful black horse. "Who are you?" Ichabod stammered. No answer came. The stranger just rode beside him in silence. — 26At the log bridge over Wiley's Swamp, Gunpowder balked and stopped dead. Then out of the black shadows came a giant cloaked rider on a powerful black horse. "Who are you?" Ichabod stammered. No answer came. The stranger just rode beside him in silence.

Ichabod spurred Gunpowder, and the silent stranger kept pace. He slowed, and the stranger slowed too. Then they topped a rise, and the rider stood out black against the sky. Ichabod's blood ran cold. The horseman had no head, and he carried it on the front of his saddle! — 27Ichabod spurred Gunpowder, and the silent stranger kept pace. He slowed, and the stranger slowed too. Then they topped a rise, and the rider stood out black against the sky. Ichabod's blood ran cold. The horseman had no head, and he carried it on the front of his saddle!

Away they tore, stones flying and sparks flashing! Gunpowder plunged down into the sandy hollow, and halfway through, the saddle girths snapped. Ichabod flung his arms round the horse's neck as Hans Van Ripper's Sunday saddle fell and was trampled under the goblin's hooves. — 28Away they tore, stones flying and sparks flashing! Gunpowder plunged down into the sandy hollow, and halfway through, the saddle girths snapped. Ichabod flung his arms round the horse's neck as Hans Van Ripper's Sunday saddle fell and was trampled under the goblin's hooves.

"If I can but reach that bridge, I am safe!" thought Ichabod. Gunpowder thundered over the planks. Ichabod glanced back, and saw the goblin rise in his stirrups and hurl his head. It struck with a crash, and Ichabod tumbled headlong into the dust. — 29"If I can but reach that bridge, I am safe!" thought Ichabod. Gunpowder thundered over the planks. Ichabod glanced back, and saw the goblin rise in his stirrups and hurl his head. It struck with a crash, and Ichabod tumbled headlong into the dust.

The next morning old Gunpowder was found at his master's gate, cropping the grass, with his saddle gone. Ichabod never came to breakfast, and the boys waited at the schoolhouse in vain. Hans Van Ripper worried about poor Ichabod, and about his Sunday saddle. — 30The next morning old Gunpowder was found at his master's gate, cropping the grass, with his saddle gone. Ichabod never came to breakfast, and the boys waited at the schoolhouse in vain. Hans Van Ripper worried about poor Ichabod, and about his Sunday saddle.

The searchers followed furious hoofprints to the church bridge. On the bank beyond, they found Ichabod's hat and a shattered pumpkin, but no Ichabod. The gossips decided that the Galloping Hessian had carried him off, and folk soon said his empty schoolhouse was haunted. — 31The searchers followed furious hoofprints to the church bridge. On the bank beyond, they found Ichabod's hat and a shattered pumpkin, but no Ichabod. The gossips decided that the Galloping Hessian had carried him off, and folk soon said his empty schoolhouse was haunted.

Years later news came that Ichabod was alive in New York, a lawyer and a judge. Brom Bones, who had married Katrina, always burst out laughing whenever someone mentioned the pumpkin. And the storyteller winked: "Faith, sir, I don't believe one-half of it myself." — 32Years later news came that Ichabod was alive in New York, a lawyer and a judge. Brom Bones, who had married Katrina, always burst out laughing whenever someone mentioned the pumpkin. And the storyteller winked: "Faith, sir, I don't believe one-half of it myself."

Adapted from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving, public domain. Pictures are AI illustrations drawn for this edition.