Core CComposition and American Literature

Course Handbook

PEP East Campus 2018-2019

TABLE OF CONTENTSCourse Overview 3Class Syllabus 4

Class Rules 6 Course Commitment 14

Daily Class Liturgy 151st Quarter 152nd Quarter 183rd Quarter 204th Quarter 22

Student’s Prayer 24Psalm 23 & The Lord’s Prayer 25The Ten Commandments 26The Bill of Rights 27Assignment Format Sample 29Formal Rules for Writing 30Revisere 34Core C Essay Rubric 33“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” 38“Young Goodman Brown” 61“The Boarded Window” 74“The Fall of the House of Usher” 78Mary Reynolds, Slave Narrative 93Compare and Contrast 98Research Paper 101Not So Common(place) 108Annotation Guide 109Biblical Allusions Study Guide 110

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Providence Extension Program – Jacksonville/ East CampusCore C: American Literature and Composition

2018-2019Course Overview

This schedule gives a general overview of the course and is subject to change. General topics and major assignments are indicated. Like any good map, this should give you an idea of where we’re headed – leaving plenty of surprises on the way!First Quarter

Literature American Literature for Christian Schools BJU Press (used in every

quarter)Lesha Myers, Windows to the World (used in every quarter)Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

CompositionEssay #1 – Suspense Essay (WttW)Essay #2 - Literary Analysis (SL)

Memory Passage“The Declaration of Independence” Introduction, 1776

Second QuarterLiterature

Nathaniel Hawthorne, “Young Goodman Brown”Ambrose Bierce, “The Boarded Window”Washington Irving “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin

CompositionEssay #3 - Compare and Contrast Essay (Short Story)

Memory PassagePreamble to “The Constitution of the United States”

Third QuarterLiterature

Lesha Myers, Writing Research PapersHarriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s CabinMark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

CompositionResearch PaperEssay #4 Literary Analysis (HF)

Memory PassageLincoln’s Gettysburg Address, 1863

Fourth QuarterLiterature

Harper Lee, To Kill a MockingbirdComposition

Essay #5 – Narrative Essay (TKAM)Essay #6 – Reflection (WttW)

Memory PassageMartin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” Speech, 1963

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Providence Extension ProgramComposition and American Literature – Core C

Instructor: Mrs. Aylene BarrContact: Ayleneb@yahoo.com (email)

(904) 704-3790 (cell)aylenebarr.weebly.com (website)

This is a class about words - other people’s and our own. We will learn to use words with beauty, grace, and power, and we will study the writings of others who used words this way. Such a study of words will, at unexpected times and in unexpected ways, open windows for us to see new dimensions of the Word, Jesus. With all this in mind, I am eager for the opportunity we have to study together this year. I know that this course will challenge you, but I also know that you can meet that challenge. My goal for the year is to guide and help you on your way. Ready? Let’s begin.Booklist

Windows to the World by Lesha Myers American Literature for Christian Schools – BJU Press The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee Writing Research Papers by Lesha Myers Writers, Inc. Core C Handbook by PEP Rhetoric Tutors

Course Description Students will learn and practice a variety of reading strategies that help you analyze and respond to challenging texts. We will examine style and worldviews that appear in the texts that we read. You will also have opportunities to engage in the writing process and write effectively for a myriad of purposes. The units focus on American literature in conjunction with American history. What we are learning in Composition and Literature this year will be that much more valuable because of its interdisciplinary nature. This

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class begins with an investigation of early American writers flowing through and culminating with To Kill A Mockingbird.

Course Goals To learn how to closely read a text. To learn more about the styles that other writers use in order to enjoy

their writing more and become better writers ourselves. To learn to read literary texts from a Christian worldview. To learn to integrate what we read and write into other things that we

are learning, in and out of classes. To become more proficient writers through regular practice and study

of writing techniques. Practice approaching great literature as a source of ideas,

conversation, instruction, and wonder

Supplies

Students must enter the classroom fully prepared with the text we are discussing each week, a notebook for the course, and the below supplies. Each week the specific needed supplies (books, novels, etc..) for that week are listed on the Weekly Assignment Sheet you will download from my website. Always be sure to consult this to be sure you are fully prepared for class.

3 ring binder Page protectors for the quarterly guides Highlighters Pen in blue, black or purple (the fun colors are what I use to grade) Dictionary Notebook paper on which to take notes* Post its Notebook for Commonplace Journal Daily planner—Students will be expected to plan completion of their

assignments carefully. The best idea is to begin working on each assignment the day after the assignment is given while the instructions are still fresh in their minds. Plan on 1-2 hours a day for homework.

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Student must have access to a reliable computer and printer as well as have access to the Internet for research purposes

Reading Assignments

Please be sure to have the exact books using the correct ISBN # according to the PEP book list for ease with in-class discussion. It gets tricky if we have books with differing page numbers, chapter numbers, etc.

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Class Rules1. Show honor, love, and respect to your tutor and classmates

through your speech and actions. Speech: Speak with appropriate kindness and encouragement to one another, and

not in a manner that displays mockery, belittlement, disrespect, or contempt.

Do not gossip or complain but address any grievances to the proper person. Grievances are to be addressed privately to the person with whom you have a grievance. Complaints about tutors, administrators, homework, the dress code, grades, and so forth must be done with the person who can do something about your grievance - not other students.

If you believe that you have been unfairly treated, you may send a formal appeal by email to the tutor.

Do not hold private conversations in class while the tutor is speaking or a classroom discussion is taking place.

Do not interrupt others in a class discussion. Do not use profane, explicit, sexist, or racist language, even in a joking

manner. Do not harass, intimidate, or threaten others. Credible threats of violence

will result in expulsion.Actions: Do not touch the belongings of your tutor or classmates without

permission. Do not walk on or climb over tables or chairs.

2. Come to class with a positive posture for learning. Do not prop your feet up on chairs, tables, or walls, or lean back in your

chairs. Do not lie on chairs, tables, or the floor.

3. Be prepared. Bring books, paper, and writing utensils to class. You may not use forgetting your supplies as an excuse to not fully

participate in class. Ask your classmates to borrow or share their supplies.4. Follow directions.

Listen carefully when given instructions. Follow directions quickly, quietly, and without arguing.

5. Focus on the task at hand. Do not pass notes in class. Do not do homework in class or read for another class or for pleasure (This

includes the Bible). Do not sleep in class. Do not pack up your belongings before the end of class. Do not write or draw on your own bodies or clothing, or the bodies and

clothing of your classmates, even if invited to. Do not distract your classmates. Fidget-spinners and other distracting toys are prohibited in the classroom.

6. Leave the classroom better than you found it.7

Pick up trash at and around your tables, even if you did not put it there. Do no throw anything across the class. Do not write or draw on tables.

7. Think deeply. Respect and interact charitably with the ideas of others, especially with

those whom you disagree. Seek to understand before forming judgments.

Students will accept discipline and instruction when they violate class rules.Tutors have the authority to send a student out of class for any of the above infractions. If a student is sent out, and responds discourteously, disrespectfully, belligerently, or contemptuously (including refusal to leave or engaging the tutor in a discussion of the matter), he or she shall be subject to disciplinary action, including possible expulsion. Additionally, if a student is sent out of class but does not immediately go to the administrator or study hall monitor, he or she is subject to further disciplinary action.

Course Expectations

Schedules, assignments, and other important information will be posted on my website. Parents and students are responsible for frequently checking aylenebarr.weebly.com for assignments and course information.

Absences: If a student must be absent from class, the parent is expected to notify the PEP leadership and instructors, and the student must email me to request updates on any instructions missed during class. I cannot guarantee credit for late/missing work or updates on assignments unless I am notified by parents/ students and work with them to arrange for missed work or administered quizzes.

Communication: The way that students, parents, and tutors all work together for students’ learning is a unique and beautiful part of PEP. My role is to help students by supporting parents as much as possible. I will do this both by keeping parents informed (through the website and by email) and by staying open to parents’ questions and concerns. The best way to get in touch with me is through email, which I check at least once a day on weekdays. I will do my best to respond promptly. Please check the website and email frequently, and please get in touch with me quickly to share

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thoughts and concerns regarding my work and your children.

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Course Assignments•Writing (Research Paper, Essays) — Detailed instructions will be

given when writing work is assigned. In general, please note the following:

- MLA format is mandatory; refer to the MLA guidelines on the Purdue OWL (Online Writing Lab) site, https://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/747/01/ and to the model document attached to this syllabus for specific details.

- Quality writing and editing, commensurate with each student’s ability, is also mandatory. Following a thorough lesson early in the year on basic academic writing standards (grammar, syntax, spelling, punctuation, style, etc.), students will be held accountable to these standards on all submitted assignments. If a submitted assignment shows a clear misunderstanding or neglect of these standards (for example, three or more errors on each page), the assignment may be returned to the student to be corrected and resubmitted. It will then be graded with a late penalty.

- PEP policies regarding academic cheating and plagiarism will be strictly enforced.

- Each written assignment must be turned in with three additional documents. Missing any of these documents leads to an automatic, non-negotiable 20% grade deduction of the assignment.

1. Documentation that Grammarly has been used. As an aid to correct writing, students must upload written assignments to Grammarly before submitting them, study the instruction given there, and make the suggested corrections. (Specific instructions TBA.)

2. A revision reflection summarizing the student’s efforts and growth in writing skills for that assignment. (Specific instructions in the “Revisere” article below.)

3. A copy of the general rubric for the class (included in this syllabus and posted on Weebly).

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•Textbook Exercises/Literature Readings & Journals — These weekly assignments will be explained in detail in a Weekly Assignment Sheet posted on Weebly. They will be graded for complete thinking and correct writing (when applicable) according to the scale below.

- 9/10 for exemplary work that clearly fulfills the assignment expectations with enthusiasm and also attempts to convey the student’s own fresh insights

- 8/10 for work that displays attentiveness and meets the assignment’s standard expectations

- 7/10 for work that displays honest effort and a measure of understanding, but also includes some inaccuracies or otherwise falls short of the assignment’s standard expectations

- 0/10 for work that does not meet the minimum expectations for the assignment and/or does not appear to make an honest effort to understand and complete the assignment

- 10/10 for work that, above and beyond a 9/10, displays exceptional inventiveness, elegance, and insight

Weekly Assignments: ALL assignments should be typed and follow general MLA format, as modelled below. Improperly formatted assignments and assignments without names will be thrown away without being graded. Students are responsible for completing assigned literature readings on time, as they are necessary for students’ benefit and class participation. Students should annotate as they read. If necessary, pop reading quizzes may be given for accountability.

Quizzes: Pop reading quizzes and assigned reading and composition quizzes may be given.

Participation: Our time in class will be spent practicing and discussing both compositional and literary ideas. In order to receive full participation credit, students must contribute meaningfully, regularly, and positively to class discussions. Contributions include both

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questions and responses! If students are unprepared for class (fail to complete course work or reading, forget books, paper, or writing utensils at home or in the hall) then they may be sent out of class and their parents will be called. Tardiness, truancy, disrespect, and distraction will not be tolerated and may result in probation.

Course Evaluation Grades do not exist in Heaven, nor will an “A” on your Christianity Report Card get you there. Grades exist on earth because we are fallen human beings and need standards and accountability to help us strive for any kind of goodness in this life—including academic goodness. Thus, you will receive grades in this course. But getting good grades is not the purpose of the course, nor should it ever become your motivation. Grades are given to keep you accountable in your pursuit of learning, and that pursuit is what should motivate you in this course. Do not work for a grade; work “as unto the Lord” (Colossians 3:23).

• Evaluation Methods: Essays, Commonplace journals, quizzes, in-class assignments, class participation.

• Late Work Policy: Course work assignments are to be submitted on time, complete, and well done. They are to be submitted according to instructions in hard copy on the day that they are due, unless instructed otherwise. Late or obviously incomplete work will be assessed a twenty (20) percent penalty. Apart from the rare event of truly extraordinary circumstances (hospitalization, death in the family), work will not be accepted more than two weeks after the due date. Also, by turning in work late, you waive the privilege of receiving comments on your work.

• Extension Policy: I will give extensions for serious sickness, unavoidable family situations, and traveling IF the following criteria are met.

• Requests for extensions must be sent to me by email, NOT asked in class or at PEP.

• Emails for extension requests must have “Extension Request for (Name of Assignment)” in the subject line and must give the specific reason for the request in the body of the email.

• Emails for extension requests must arrive BEFORE the due date of the assignment, as much in advance as possible. (I

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realize, though, that many of these situations will be somewhat last-minute, such as unforeseen sickness.)

• In order to be consistent and enforce this policy, I will NOT be able to give extensions if a specific request is not sent. If you miss class because you are sick and do not email me specifically asking for an extension, I will need to take the 20% late penalty.

• In order to be consistent and enforce this policy, I will also NOT be able to give extensions for busy schedules, extra work in other classes, etc.

• I do, however, understand that old-fashioned busy-ness is a pressing issue and want to support you in helpful ways. Therefore, you may have one free extension per quarter that you may take on any assignment at any time. To claim your free extension, send me an email with “Free Extension on (Name of Assignment)” in the subject line. You will then have an automatic one-week extension; as long as the assignment is turned in by the one-week mark, I will not take the 20% late penalty.

• Complaint Policy: Complaining is one of the most destructive forces in the classroom, eating away at our learning and living alike. It eats away at joy by turning our focus to our dissatisfactions; at hope by putting problems under a magnifying lens so they seem unsolvable; at motivation by making us feel justified in not trying because the expectations are too much; at compassion because it causes us to consider our own trials as more significant than our neighbors’; at faith by making us feel that God has not been good to us. You might not articulate these thoughts to yourself, but this is all buried in the act of complaining, whether it stays in your head or jumps out through your mouth. However, while “complaining” is always a detrimental thing, “complaints”—thoughtful, respectful differences of opinion and requests for change—are often at the heart of learning and growing for all of us. In light of all of this, please note the following class policies on complaining and complaints:

• I will be prayerfully seeking to model a joyful, contented spirit, and you can hold me to that if needed.

• I may deduct 1/2 point of the end-of-quarter participation grade for each instance of complaining that I observe occurring in our classroom.

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• If you have given careful thought to a perceived problem with my expectations, assignments, or another aspect in this class, and would like to respectfully express it, please communicate it to me in an email. I will consider your complaint with seriousness and seek to either explain my reasoning or change whatever is problematic. Please be gentle in your words and try to balance your complaint with a confirmation of other things that are going well; this is a great way to establish your ethos in making a complaint, which, remember, will make your audience more likely to accept it! :)

______________________________________________________________________________• Grade Calculation:

35 percent: Essays/Research Paper35 percent: Homework assignments & commonplace journals15 percent: Quizzes & in-class assignments15 percent: Class participation

• Grading Scale:A = 90-100B = 80-90C = 70-80D = 60-70F = 59-below

Grades will be maintained online for parents’ and students’ information. Please communicate with me and/or expect communication from me should any concerns arise.

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Essays (35%)We will cover many types of writing, with the emphasis on literary analysis. The goal for our writing component is to build upon student’s skill base and to expand writing skills through techniques presented in class and through our writing text. This will be accomplished in several ways. Students will submit their essay for instructor evaluation (graded essay). The revision process will include “rough” draft, and a “final” draft. I will not accept a final draft without the rough draft attached to it. All essays will need to be submitted electronically in addition to the “hard” copy handed in to me. Instructions for how to do so to come in a separate email at a later date. Important note: In order for students to do well in writing literary analysis, they MUST read thoroughly the assigned material, as well as annotate the text and take thorough notes in class.Please note: “rough draft” is just a common term for the first draft of an essay; a completed draft to be turned in should never be rough. Anything thing you turn in should have already been edited by a parent using the provided checklist and revised by the student. Each essay that is turned in should be the “best yet” version of that essay. Final draft simply means the last version (draft) of that particular essay that will be graded by the tutor. Rough drafts must ALWAYS be turned in with the final draft of an essay, or the essay will not be accepted.Essays will be evaluated upon content (thesis statement, support of thesis, accomplished intended purpose of essay) and format (presentation of essay including correct margins, font, header, punctuation, spelling, and grammar). Incorporating techniques presented in class is also considered a format requirement.

Homework Assignments (Class Work at Home) (35%)Students will complete weekly graded homework assignments which will serve as a springboard for our class discussion. The responses to the homework assignments must be answered with complete sentences fully answering the question. Each assignment should represent the student’s best work. Excellence is expected.Assigned work will be submitted within the class period on the day of class. See the Late Work section above for details about work submitted after the due date. Remember, class work done at home counts for 35% of the student’s grade and prepares them for class discussion. If parents contact me about extenuating circumstances or about illness, I will give fill credit based on an agreed deadline for completion. Without parental notification I cannot give full credit for any late papers or homework assignments.

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Assignments must be typed with student name, date, and assignment title in the upper left-hand corner. Essays with multiple pages must have a header with the student's last name and page number in the upper right-hand corner. Multiple pages need to be stapled together. If they are not stapled, or are missing the student's name, points will be deducted.Parents are a vital source of grammar and punctuation instruction. If this isn't your strong suit as a parent, there are several sources you can use to help guide your student in these areas of language arts; http://grammarly.com/ or The Grammar HELP! Student Handbook are some examples. During class, we will be focusing on essay structure and styles of writing more than punctuation and grammar. For this, we will be using Writers Inc.

Quizzes/Tests/In Class Writing (15%)Quizzes covering weekly reading assignments, and vocabulary quizzes are part of evaluating a student’s understanding of their reading and information presented in class. Any possible take home tests covering a unit of study will be sent to the parent by the instructor. This will guard our limited instruction time and serve to provide experience in test taking skills. We will also have 2 in-class writings during the school year.

Participation (15%)

Class discussion will strengthen the students’ ability to critically think about literature. Therefore, it is vital to the class that each student participates in our discussion. In order to receive full credit for participation students must contribute meaningful information during class discussions. Points for tardiness, disrespect, coming to class unprepared and not bringing texts to class will be deducted from this category.

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Course Commitment“The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.” John Milton, “Of Education”

“It is a serious thing . . . to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. . . . [O]ur merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously—no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner . . . Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.” C.S. Lewis, “The Weight of Glory”

“The most important [commandment] is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:29-31, ESV

Course Commitment for Students:I have read and understood this syllabus. I understand the goal for which the course exists, as described in Milton’s words, and the nature of the human beings pursuing the course with me, as described in Lewis’s words. I commit myself to pursue this course of study, with these people, by God’s grace and for His glory.Signed _______________________________________ August ________ , 20______

Course Commitment for Parents: I have read and understood this syllabus. I understand the class policies, as well as the expectations for my student’s work and conduct related in this syllabus, and I agree to help my student abide by them.

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Signed ___________________________________ August ______, 20____

No need to turn this page in; simply keep it as a reminder for yourself.

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Daily Class Liturgy

Daily PrayerLord God, almighty and everlasting Father, you have brought us in safety to this new day: Preserve us with

your mighty power, that we may not fall into sin, nor be overcome by adversity; and in all we do, direct us to the fulfilling of your purpose; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.The Book of Common Prayer

1st Quarter Liturgy

Where can I go from your spirit?Or where can I flee from your presence?If I ascend to heaven, you are there;if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.If I take the wings of the morningand settle at the farthest limits of the sea,even there your hand shall lead me,and your right hand shall hold me fast.If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,and the light around me become night,”even the darkness is not dark to you;the night is as bright as the day,for darkness is as light to you. Amen.Psalm 139:7-12

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Open my lips, O Lord,and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.Create in me a clean heart, O God,and renew a right spirit within me.Cast me not away from your presenceand take not your holy Spirit from me.Give me the joy of your saving help againand sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

The Book of Common Prayer, From Psalm 51

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1st Quarter Memory Passage

“When in the course of human events, it becomes neces-sary for one people to dissolve the political bands which

have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God

entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel

them to separation.We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator

with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; that, to secure

these rights, governments are instituted among men, de-riving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that whenever any form of government becomes destruc-tive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or

abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to affect

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their safety and happiness.”Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776

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2nd Quarter Liturgy

The Lord is faithful in all his words,and gracious in all his deeds.The Lord upholds all who are falling,and raises up all who are bowed down.The eyes of all look to you,and you give them their food in due season.You open your hand,satisfying the desire of every living thing.The Lord is just in all his ways,and kind in all his doings.The Lord is near to all who call on him,to all who call on him in truth.He fulfills the desire of all who fear him;he also hears their cry, and saves them. Amen.

Psalm 145:13b-19

Almighty God, you have given your only Son to be for us a sacrifice for sin, and also an example of godly life: Give us grace to receive thankfully the fruits of this redeeming work, and to follow daily in the blessed steps of his most holy life; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen. The Book of Common Prayer, Proper 15

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2nd Quarter Memory Passage

“We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

Constitution of the United States: Preamble. Ratified 1788.

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3rd Quarter Liturgy

Do not fret because of the wicked;do not be envious of wrongdoers,for they will soon fade like the grass,and wither like the green herb.Trust in the Lord, and do good;so you will live in the land, and enjoy security.Take delight in the Lord,and he will give you the desires of your heart.Commit your way to the Lord;trust in him, and he will act.He will make your vindication shine like the light,and the justice of your cause like the noonday. Amen. Psalm 37:1-6

Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen. The Book of Common Prayer, Proper 14

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3rd Quarter Memory Passage

“Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead who struggled here have consecrated far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this

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nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.” Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, 1863

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4th Quarter Liturgy

I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come?My help comes from the Lord,who made heaven and earth.He will not let your foot be moved;he who keeps you will not slumber.He who keeps Israelwill neither slumber nor sleep.The Lord is your keeper;the Lord is your shade at your right hand.The sun shall not strike you by day,nor the moon by night.The Lord will keep you from all evil;he will keep your life.The Lord will keepyour going out and your coming infrom this time on and forevermore. Amen.

Psalm 121

O God, from whom all good proceeds: Grant that by your inspiration we may think those things that are right, and by your merciful guiding may do them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who

lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Book of Common Prayer, Proper 5

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4th Quarter Memory Passage

And so, I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

From Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” Speech, 196329

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The Student’s Prayerfrom Thomas Aquinas

Creator of all things, true source of light and wisdom,origin of all being,graciously let a ray of Your light penetratethe darkness of my understanding.

Take from me the double darknessin which I have been born,an obscurity of sin and ignorance.

Give me a keen understanding, a retentive memory, andthe ability to grasp things correctly and fundamentally.

Grant me the talent of being exact in my explanations and the ability to express myselfwith thoroughness and charm.

Point out the beginning,direct the progress,and help in the completion.

I ask this through Christ our Lord.Amen.

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Psalm 23 (KJV)23 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters.3 He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies: you anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.6 Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

The Lord’s PrayerOur Father, who art in Heaven,Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth,As it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.And lead us not into temptation,But deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, The power and the glory,

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For ever and ever. Amen

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“The most important [commandment] is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:29-31, ESV

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The Bill of Rights

Passed by Congress September 25, 1789Ratified December 15, 1791

Amendment I: Freedoms, Petitions, AssemblyCongress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or pro-hibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Amendment II: Right to bear armsA well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Amendment III Quartering of soldiersNo Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.

Amendment IV: Search and arrestThe right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probably cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Amendment V: Rights in criminal casesNo person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases aris-ing in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same of-fence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb, nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

Amendment VI: Right to a fair trialIn all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed; which district shall have been previously ascer-tained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.

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Amendment VII: Rights in civil cases

In Suits at common law, there the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury shall be otherwise re-examined in any Court of the United States, than ac-cording to the rules of the common law.

Amendment VIII: Bails, fines, punishmentExcessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

Amendment IX: Rights retained by the PeopleThe enumeration in the Constitution of certain rights shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

Amendment X: States’ rightsThe powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor pro-hibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.

Later Amendments

11: Lawsuits against states February 7, 1795

12: Presidential elections June 15, 1804. Superseded by Section 3 of the Twentieth Amendment

13: Abolition of slavery December 6, 1865

14: Civil rights July 9, 1868

15: Black suffrage February 3, 1870

16: Income taxes February 3, 1913

17: Senatorial elections April 8, 1913

18: Prohibition of liquor January 16, 1919. Repealed by the Twenty-First, December 5, 1933

19. Women’s suffrage August 18, 1920

20. Terms of office January 23, 1933

21. Repeal of Prohibition December 5, 1933

22. Term limits for the Presidency February 27, 1951

23. Washington, D.C., suffrage March 29, 1961

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24. Abolition of poll taxes January 23, 1964

25. Presidential succession February 10, 1967

26. 18-year-old suffrage June 30, 1971

27. Congressional pay raises May 7, 1992

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(include last name and page numbers in top right corner)

Student Name

Teacher Name (for this class, Mrs. Barr)

Course Name (for this class, Core C Comp & Lit)

Date Submitted

Assignment Format Instructions

(title is centered and bolded, but not italicized or underlined)

This handout gives instructions for the assignment format required

for any written work submitted in this class (includes reading analysis,

literature journals, essays, etc.). It is also a model of that format, so please

study it carefully and refer to it often! Assignment format is not

optional, and it will be reflected in grading.

PEP Rhetoric/Lit classes follow MLA (Modern Language Association)

format, a set of guidelines established by the Modern Language Association

and used in all college and scholarly writing in English and other humanities.

The general MLA format features are as follows:

• Essays will use Times New Roman 12 pt font

• Essays will have one-inch margins and be double-spaced

• Essay paragraphs will be indented, but no space left between

paragraphs

• Essay titles will be centered and bolded (but not italicized or underlined)

• Essays will be numbered on top right corner of each page with last

name and page number

• Essays will include a heading in the top left corner as described above38

For more specific instructions or further explanation on MLA format, please

refer to the Purdue University Online Writing Lab (Purdue OWL) website:

https://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/747/01/ . This reliable source

contains a full and up-to-date description of MLA rules.

Ground Rules for Formal Writing

1. Write complete sentences. •A complete sentence has a clearly identifiable subject and verb.

Check your writing for fragments, or “sentences” that are missing either subject or verb.

2. Write sentences in active voice unless you have a good reason to use passive voice.

•Active voice means that the doers of the action are at the beginnings of the sentences.

•Passive voice means that the actors appear either in a prepositional phrase or not at all.

•For example: Passive: It can easily be seen that Christians must have a high regard for the written word. Active: Christians must value the written word. Passive: The Word is also the way God communicates with us.Active: God communicates with Christians through the Word.

•Notice that passive voice uses being verbs, which is the reason for Rule #4. Also watch out for helping verbs, such as will, had, have, would, could, should, that may signal you’re in passive voice.

•Passive voice is good when you want to conceal who is doing the action or when you want to make the person/thing receiving the action appear victimized.

3. Be sure subjects and verbs agree.• If the subject is singular, the verb must be singular. And vice versa for

plural.

4. Use being verbs only TWICE per paragraph. •Being verbs include these: am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been.

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•The same rule applies to the words become, exist, subsist, remain, prove if used to replace being verbs.

5. Keep verb tense consistent.•If you struggle with this, highlight all the verbs and check their tense!•When writing literary analyses, be sure to use present tense.

6. Be sure pronouns and antecedents agree.• The antecedent is the noun which the pronoun replaces.• Pronouns and antecedents must have the same person, number, and

gender.

7. Place modifiers next to the words they modify.• A misplaced modifier occurs when the modifier (descriptive

word/phrase) is separated from what it describes.• For example:

Misplaced: In the fridge, my mom left a sandwich. (Was your poor mom actually inside the fridge?) Correct: In the fridge, a sandwich was left by my mom. OR My mom left a sandwich in the fridge.

8. Use third person unless otherwise specified. • Third person pronouns talk about people instead of to them:

he, she, it, they, him, her, them. •First and second person pronouns, which you may NOT use, include I,

me, my, we, us, our, you, your, yours.

9. Use a formal tone. •Avoid colloquialisms, common phrases, and sentences that sound too

much like normal speech.

10. Write out numbers that can be written in one or two words. •If a paragraph also includes longer numbers, use numerals

throughout the whole paragraph.•Do not begin a sentence with a numeral; reword if necessary.

11. Use punctuation correctly.7a. Commas.

- Use commas to separate items in a list.

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- Please use Oxford commas (the comma between the second-to-last item in the list and the “and”).

- Use a comma after introductory phrases/clauses.- This boils down to putting a comma after any words that come

before the subject of a sentence. The introductory comma is not required before very short (one to three-ish word) phrases, but it is never wrong to include it.

- Use a comma to surround interruptions.- More technically, “interruptions” are “nonessential elements”—

phrases or clauses which are not necessary to the main meaning of the sentence: you can take them out and the sentence means the same thing.

- Use a comma WITH A CONJUNCTION to separate compound SENTENCES.- Do NOT use a comma to separate compound ELEMENTS—

subjects, verbs, direct objects, etc. You must have a subject and a verb on both sides of your comma.

- If you leave the conjunction out, you have created a type of run-on sentence called a COMMA SPLICE. Change it.

7b. Colons.- Use a colon to introduce a list if you include the phrase “the

following.” - Use a colon to introduce a quotation if preceded by a full sentence

announcing the quotation.- Use a colon to connect sentences when the second sentence

proves or exemplifies the first one.

7c. Semicolons.- Use a semicolon to separate items in a list that have commas in

individual items.- Use a semicolon to separate sentences without using a

conjunction.- Use a semicolon to separate sentences along with a conjunctive

adverb such as “however.”

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- Note on “however”: If using “however” in the middle of a sentence, put it between two commas. If using it between two sentences, put it between a semicolon and comma.

7d. Dashes.- Use dashes to surround interruptions or introduce a list.

7e. Apostrophes.- Use an apostrophe in a contraction to replace the missing letters.- Use an apostrophe before the “s” when showing possession for a

singular noun.- Use an apostrophe after the “s” when showing possession for a

plural noun.

7f. Titles.- Italicize titles of:

- Books- Movies- Plays- Epic-length poems- Ships- Television or radio shows- CDs

- Put in quotation marks titles of:- Poems- Speeches- Songs- Short stories- Essays - Articles from newspapers, magazines, or the Internet- Episodes from television or radio shows

7g. Quotations.- Basic rule: follow MLA format.- Guidelines for introducing quotations:

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- If you blend the quotation into the flow of your sentence, you do not need punctuation. For example, In his Confessions, St. Augustine cries out to God that “[o]ur hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.”

- If you introduce a quotation with a signal word or phrase such as “saying,” “as in,” etc., put a comma before the quotation. For example, In his book Confessions, St. Augustine says, “Our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.”

- if you precede the quotation with a formal, complete-sentence statement, put a colon before the quotation. For example, St. Augustine declares his dependence upon God in his Confessions: “Our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.”

- Short punctuation (commas, periods) ordinarily go inside quotation marks, tall punctuation (semicolons, colons) outside.

- Anytime you are quoting another source, your quote will be followed by a citation, and the quote’s ending punctuation goes outside the parentheses.

- When quoting poetry, put a / (space-slash-space) wherever the poem starts a new line.

- If your quotation takes up more than four lines on your printed page, turn it into a block quote. Take off the quotation marks, put the whole quote below your paragraph, indent it one full inch (two tabs), and put the parenthetical citation outside the quote’s ending punctuation.

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RevisereLatin for “to look at again, to visit again”

“I don’t write easily or rapidly. My first draft usually has only a few elements worth keeping.I have to find what those are and build from them and throw out what doesn’t work,or what simply is not alive.” Susan Sontag

Interviewer: How much rewriting do you do?Hemingway: It depends. I rewrote the ending of Farewell to Arms, the last page of it, 39 times before I was satisfied.Interviewer: Was there some technical problem there? What was it that had stumped you?

Hemingway: Getting the words right.Ernest Hemingway, The Paris Review Interview,

1956

Any experienced writer will tell you that the real work of writing doesn’t truly begin until you start revising. Vladimir Nabokov, in his memoir Speak, Memory, writes, “I have rewritten — often several times — every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.” Similarly, Truman Capote comments, “I’m all for the scissors. I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil.” Writing is rewriting.

The main purpose of a first draft is to purge your brain of ideas; you want to put all those cluttering thoughts about your subject onto paper in a semi-coherent manner. The first draft helps you clarify in your own mind what you think about a topic – it helps you think through your arguments and come to logical conclusions. However, while at the end of your first draft you may have a clearer vision of what you want to say, usually what you’ve actually written is a right awful mess, and that’s okay! But in order to turn this mess into an essay or story that actually communicates your ideas, you’re going to have to revise. Let me say that again: you’re going to have to revise!

Always revise your work before you turn it in. Write your first draft as quickly as you can. Make it as messy as you need it to be to get your ideas on paper, but DO NOT turn in this draft. Instead, revise it!

You may ask, “But how can I rewrite my essay without my teacher’s feedback? Isn’t that your job?” Well, no. My job is to teach you how to make revising your job, and this process is a part of how I will do that. You have received my feedback on each essay you have already written. The main reason students don’t see improvement in their writing is they don’t apply the corrections they receive on essays to their future writing. So, before you submit a piece of writing, look back at the last draft you received comments on (this could either be a rough draft of the essay

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you’re currently working on or a draft of a previous essay). Determine how you can use the feedback you received to improve the draft you’re working on. For example, if the feedback on your last essay tells you to work on your comma placement, then make sure your commas are correct in your current draft. If the feedback on your previous essay tells you to use stronger verbs, then make sure you’ve used strong verbs in this draft. You should go through this process for every draft you turn in.

To help you in this effort, a reflection paragraph (we’ll call it the Revisere) will be required with every written assignment you submit this year (essays). Carefully follow these instructions:

1. Examine the most recent feedback you have received (either the feedback on an earlier draft of the current assignment, or else feedback from your last assignment).

2. Apply this feedback to your current draft.

3. Write a 1-1.5 page analysis of what you learned from the feedback you’ve received and how you used it to change you writing. Tell me:

(1) what you learned about your own writing based on my feedback—especially what areas needed the most improvement; (2) what you focused on in the current draft; (3) what you found most difficult in the current draft; and (4) what you learned that you plan to implement in your next piece of writing.

4. Note: “I learned nothing” is not an acceptable response. If you are receiving the same feedback over and over, then you’re probably not applying the feedback you’re receiving. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes in your writing but make it your goal to not repeat your mistakes!

5. Attach your analysis to each draft before you turn it in. A draft submitted without the Revisere paragraph will receive an automatic, non-negotiable 20% deduction.

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Core C Essay RubricThe following criteria will be used to grade American Comp & Lit essays:

Note: The grading will be done by the tutor. The parent should note the areas being graded when helping their student with feedback. Pay attention to the footnotes as well.

Written Communication (50 points)1. Organization and Formatting (20 points) _____ (0-5) There appears to be little or no attempt at organization. No attempt is made to follow MLA format. No discernible thesis statement.

_____ (5-10) Essay is difficult to follow because of inadequate transitions or rambling and/or inconsistent MLA formatting. Has a discernible thesis but is not carried out through the essay. _____ (11-15) Basic transitions and a structured format are used. MLA is generally followed. Has a discernible thesis and most topic sentences help carry the thesis through the essay. _____ (16-20) Effective organization and transitions are used. MLA format is consistent. Has a clear thesis statement and topic statements succeed in carrying the thesis through the essay. 2. Mechanics and Grammar (30 points) ____ (0-10) Notoriously poor grammar, spelling, syntax, and mechanics. 1 Vocabulary is basic and unvaried, or words are inappropriately used. Use of many “blah” or “weak” words. _____ (10-20) Grammar, spelling, syntax, and mechanics need improvement but are not notorious. Vocabulary is basic, but words are not misused. Use of some “blah” or “weak” words. ____ (21-25) Minimal spelling, syntax, grammatical and mechanical errors. Use of language is articulate and intelligent. Contains some active adjectives, colorful nouns and vivid verbs. _____ (26-30) Writing is clear and no mechanical errors are present. Use of language is articulate and intelligent. Contains mostly active adjectives, colorful nouns and vivid verbs.

Content (50 points) 3. Proof of Claims-Evidence (25 points)2

_____ (0-10) Failed to efficiently prove your claim, or barely attempted to do so.

1 This may result in a paper returned to you with a zero.

2 Academic dishonesty (plagiarism, cheating) will result in a grade of zero for the essay and automatic probation for the first offense. A second offense results in expulsion from PEP.

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_____ (11-20) Some proof is used, but not efficiently and/or explanation is flawed. Commentary is used but not in which sufficiently proves your claims.

_____ (21-25) All claims are efficiently proven, and interpretation and/or explanation is complete and concise. Commentary used correctly, and sufficiently proves your claim.

4. Completeness (25 points)

_____ (0-10) Prompt is not addressed or is addressed in a perfunctory way.

_____ (11-18) Attempted to answer the prompt but provided few details.

_____ (19-22) Answered the prompt in some detail, but with some omissions as well.

_____ (23-25) Answered all parts of the prompt completely.

Checklist for Parents: ____ I have edited this essay or composition assignment for the following:

• Spelling errors • Grammatical errors • Punctuation error

____My student has revised this work regarding the edits I made, and is turning in a semi-perfect, best-yet version of this paper.

Parent Signature

Final Grade: ______ Notes:

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THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW.

FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE DIEDRICH 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.

N 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,

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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.

I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noon-time, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around, and was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a retreat, whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none more promising than this little valley.

From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by the name of SLEEPY HOLLOW, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neighboring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched by a high German doctor, during the early days of the settlement; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before the country was discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs; are subject to trances and visions; and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions: stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole nine fold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols.

The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless battle during the revolutionary war; and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk, hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no great distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floating facts concerning this spectre, allege that the body of the trooper having been buried in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head; and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard before daybreak.

Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows; and the spectre is known, at all the country firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there for a time. However wide awake they may have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little while, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative—to dream dreams, and see apparitions.

I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud; for it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here and there embosomed in the great State of New York, that population, manners, and customs, remain fixed; while the great torrent of migration and improvement, which is making such

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incessant changes in other parts of this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved. They are like those little nooks of still water which border a rapid stream; where we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current. Though many years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I should not still find the same trees and the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom.

In this by-place of nature, there abode, in a remote period of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane; who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, “tarried,” in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of Connecticut; a State which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodsmen and country schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and

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flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock, perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a corn-field.

His school-house was a low building of one large room, rudely constructed of logs; the windows partly glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copy-books. It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set against the window-shutters; so that, though a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out; an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an eel- pot. The school-house stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a formidable birch-tree growing at one end of it. From hence the low murmur of his pupils’ voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer’s day, like the hum of a bee-hive; interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the tone of menace or command; or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man, and ever bore in mind the golden maxim, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.”—Ichabod Crane’s scholars certainly were not spoiled.

I would not have it imagined, however, that he was one of those cruel potentates of the school, who joy in the smart of their subjects; on the contrary, he administered justice with discrimination rather than severity; taking the burden off the backs of the weak, and laying it on those of the strong. Your mere puny stripling, that winced at the least flourish of the rod, was passed by with indulgence; but the claims of justice were satisfied by inflicting a double portion on some little, tough, wrong-headed, broad- skirted Dutch urchin, who sulked and swelled, and grew dogged and sullen beneath the birch. All this he called “doing his duty by their parents;” and he never inflicted a chastisement without following it by the assurance, so consolatory to the smarting urchin, that “he would remember it, and thank him for it the longest day he had to live.”

When school hours were over, he was even the companion and playmate of the larger boys; and on holiday afternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones home, who happened to have pretty sisters, or good housewives for mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed, it behooved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. The revenue arising from his school was small, and would have been scarcely sufficient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and, though lank, had the dilating powers of an anaconda; but to help out his maintenance, he was, according to country custom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers, whose children he instructed. With these he lived successively a week at a time; thus going the rounds of the neighborhood, with all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief.

That all this might not be too onerous on the purses of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the cost of schooling a grievous burden, and schoolmasters as mere drones, he had various ways of rendering himself both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in the lighter labors of their farms; helped to make hay; mended the fences; took the horses to water; drove the cows from pasture; and cut wood for the winter fire. He laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity and absolute sway with which he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and became wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He found favor in the eyes of the mothers, by petting the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lion bold, which whilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle with his foot for whole hours together.

In addition to his other vocations, he was the singing-master of the neighborhood, and picked up many bright shillings by instructing the young folks in psalmody. It was a matter of no little vanity to him, on Sundays, to take his station in front of the church gallery, with a band of chosen singers;

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where, in his own mind, he completely carried away the palm from the parson. Certain it is, his voice resounded far above all the rest of the congregation; and there are peculiar quavers still to be heard in that church, and which may even be heard half a mile off, quite to the opposite side of the mill-pond, on a still Sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately descended from the nose of Ichabod Crane. Thus, by divers little make-shifts in that ingenious way which is commonly denominated “by hook and by crook,” the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and was thought, by all who understood nothing of the labor of headwork, to have a wonderfully easy life of it.

The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood; being considered a kind of idle gentlemanlike personage, of vastly superior taste and accomplishments to the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferior in learning only to the parson. His appearance, therefore, is apt to occasion some little stir at the tea-table of a farm-house, and the addition of a supernumerary dish of cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure, the parade of a silver teapot. Our man of letters, therefore, was peculiarly happy in the smiles of all the country damsels. How he would figure among them in the churchyard, between services on Sundays! gathering grapes for them from the wild vines that overrun the surrounding trees; reciting for their amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones; or sauntering, with a whole bevy of them, along the banks of the adjacent mill-pond; while the more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepishly back, envying his superior elegance and address.

From his half itinerant life, also, he was a kind of travelling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house to house; so that his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction. He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather’s history of New England Witchcraft, in which, by the way, he most firmly and potently believed.

He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness and simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous, and his powers of digesting it, were equally extraordinary; and both had been increased by his residence in this spellbound region. No tale was too gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. It was often his delight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover, bordering the little brook that whimpered by his school-house, and there con over old Mather’s direful tales, until the gathering dusk of the evening made the printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then, as he wended his way, by swamp and stream and awful woodland, to the farm-house where he happened to be quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination: the moan of the whip-poor-will* from the hill-side; the boding cry of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the dreary hooting of the screech-owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightened from their roost. The fire-flies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one of uncommon brightness would stream across his path; and if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle came winging his blundering flight against him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that he was struck with a witch’s token. His only resource on such occasions, either to drown thought, or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes;—and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe, at hearing his nasal melody, “in linked sweetness long drawn out,” floating from the distant hill, or along the dusky road.

Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was, to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman, or galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; * The whip-poor-will is a bird which is only heard at night. It receives its name

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from its note, which is thought to resemble those words.

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and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them wofully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!

But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and where, of course, no spectre dared to show his face, it was dearly purchased by the terrors of his subsequent walk homewards. What fearful shapes and shadows beset his path amidst the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night!—With what wistful look did he eye every trembling ray of light streaming across the waste fields from some distant window!—How often was he appalled by some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted spectre, beset his very path!— How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet; and dread to look over his shoulder, lest he should behold some uncouth being tramping close behind him!— and how often was he thrown into complete dismay by some rushing blast, howling among the trees, in the idea that it was the Galloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings!

All these, however, were mere terrors of the night, phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness; and though he had seen many spectres in his time, and been more than once beset by Satan in divers shapes, in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all these evils; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together, and that was—a woman.

Among the musical disciples who assembled, one evening in each week, to receive his instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen; plump as a partridge; ripe and melting and rosy cheeked as one of her father’s peaches, and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her vast expectations. She was withal a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow gold, which her great-great- grandmother had brought over from Saardam; the tempting stomacher of the olden time; and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the country round. 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.

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He seldom, it is true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his own farm; but within those every thing 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 to 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 farmyard, 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 calling his ever-hungry family of wives and children to enjoy the rich morsel which he had discovered.

The pedagogue’s mouth watered, as he looked upon this sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In his devouring mind’s eye, he pictured to himself every roasting-pig running about with a pudding in his belly, and an apple in his mouth; the pigeons were snugly put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverlet of crust; the geese were swimming in their own gravy; and the ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, with a decent competency of onion sauce. In the porkers he saw carved out the future sleek side of bacon, and juicy relishing ham; not a turkey but he beheld daintily trussed up, with its gizzard under its wing, and, peradventure, a necklace of

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savory sausages; and even bright chanticleer himself lay sprawling on his back, in a side- dish, with uplifted claws, as if craving that quarter which his chivalrous spirit disdained to ask while living. s the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow-lands, the rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and Indian corn, and the orchards burthened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, his heart yearned after the damsel who was to inherit these domains, and his imagination expanded with the idea, how they might be readily turned into cash, and the money invested in immense tracts of wild land, and shingle palaces in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy already realized his hopes, and presented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family of children, mounted on the top of a wagon loaded with household trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath; and he beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at her heels, setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord knows where.

When he entered the house the conquest of his heart was complete. It was one of those spacious farm-houses, with high-ridged, but lowly- sloping roofs, built in the style handed down from the first Dutch settlers; the low projecting eaves forming a piazza along the front, capable of being closed up in bad weather. Under this were hung flails, harness, various utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishing in the neighboring river. Benches were built along the sides for summer use; and a great spinning- wheel at one end, and a churn at the other, showed the various uses to which this important porch might be devoted. From this piazza the wondering Ichabod entered the hall, which formed the centre of the mansion and the place of usual residence. Here, rows of resplendent pewter, ranged on a long dresser, dazzled his eyes. In one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to be spun; in another a quantity of linsey- woolsey just from the loom; ears of Indian corn, and strings of dried apples and peaches, hung in gay festoons along the walls, mingled with the gaud of red peppers; and a door left ajar gave him a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairs, and dark mahogany tables, shone like mirrors; andirons, with their accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened from their covert of asparagus tops; mock-oranges and conch-shells decorated the mantel-piece; strings of various colored birds’ eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrich egg was hung from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard, knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old silver and well-mended china.

From the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these regions of delight, the peace of his mind was at an end, and his only study was how to gain the affections of the peerless daughter of Van Tassel. In this enterprise, however, he had more real difficulties than generally fell to the lot of a knight-errant of yore, who seldom had any thing but giants, enchanters, fiery dragons, and such like easily-conquered adversaries, to contend with; and had to make his way merely through gates of iron and brass, and walls of adamant, to the castle keep, where the lady of his heart was confined; all which he achieved as easily as a man would carve his way to the centre of a Christmas pie; and then the lady gave him her hand as a matter of course. Ichabod, on the contrary, had to win his way to the heart of a country coquette, beset with a labyrinth of whims and caprices, which were forever presenting new difficulties and impediments; and he had to encounter a host of fearful adversaries of real flesh and blood, the numerous rustic admirers, who beset every portal to her heart, keeping a watchful and angry eye upon each other, but ready to fly out in the common cause against any new competitor.

Among these the most formidable was a burly, roaring, roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or, according to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round, which rang with his feats of strength and hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he had received the nickname of BROM BONES, by which he was universally known. He was famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and cock-fights; and, with the ascendancy which bodily strength always acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an air and tone admitting of

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no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either a fight or a frolic; but had more mischief than ill-will in his composition; and, with all his overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good humor at bottom. He had three or four boon companions, who regarded him as their model, and at the head of whom he scoured the country, attending every scene of feud or merriment for miles round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox’s tail; and when the folks at a country gathering descried this well-known crest at a distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be heard dashing along past the farm-houses at midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks; and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim, “Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!” The neighbors looked upon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and good- will; and when any madcap prank, or rustic brawl, occurred in the vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the bottom of it.

This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries; and though his amorous toyings were something like the gentle caresses and endearments of a bear, yet it was whispered that she did not altogether discourage his hopes. Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival candidates to retire, who felt no inclination to cross a lion in his amours; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to Van Tassel’s paling, on a Sunday night, a sure sign that his master was courting, or, as it is termed, “sparking,” within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and carried the war into other quarters.

Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane had to contend; and, considering all things, a stouter man than he would have shrunk from the competition, and a wiser man would have despaired. He had, however, a happy mixture of pliability and perseverance in his nature; he was in form and spirit like a supple-jack—yielding, but tough; though he bent, he never broke; and though he bowed beneath the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away—jerk! he was as erect, and carried his head as high as ever.

To have taken the field openly against his rival would have been madness; for he was not a man to be thwarted in his amours, any more than that stormy lover, Achilles. Ichabod, therefore, made his advances in a quiet and gently-insinuating manner. Under cover of his character of singing-master, he made frequent visits at the farm-house; not that he had any thing to apprehend from the meddlesome interference of parents, which is so often a stumbling-block in the path of lovers. Balt Van Tassel was an easy, indulgent soul; he loved his daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man and an excellent father, let her have her way in every thing. His notable little wife, too, had enough to do to attend to her housekeeping and manage her poultry; for, as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of themselves. Thus, while the busy dame bustled about the house, or plied her spinning-wheel at one end of the piazza, honest Balt would sit smoking his evening pipe at the other, watching the achievements of a little wooden warrior, who, armed with a sword in each hand, was most valiantly fighting the wind on the pinnacle of the barn. In the mean time, Ichabod would carry on his suit with the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm, or sauntering along in the twilight, that hour so favorable to the lover’s eloquence. I profess not to know how women’s hearts are wooed and won. To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration. Some seem to have but one vulnerable point, or door of access; while others have a thousand avenues, and may be captured in a thousand different ways. It is a great triumph of skill to gain the former, but a still greater proof of generalship to maintain possession of the latter, for the man must battle for his fortress at every door and window. He who wins a thousand common hearts is therefore entitled to some renown; but he who keeps undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette, is indeed a hero. Certain it is, this was not the case with the redoubtable Brom Bones; and from the moment Ichabod Crane made his advances, the interests of the former evidently declined: his horse was no longer seen tied to the palings on Sunday nights, and

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a deadly feud gradually arose between him and the preceptor of Sleepy Hollow.

Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his nature, would fain have carried matters to open warfare, and have settled their pretensions to the lady according to the mode of those most concise and simple reasoners, the knights-errant of yore—by single combat; but Ichabod was too conscious of the superior might of his adversary to enter the lists against him: he had overheard a boast of Bones, that he would “double the schoolmaster up, and lay him on a shelf of his own school-house;” and he was too wary to give him an opportunity. There was something extremely provoking in this obstinately pacific system; it left Brom no alternative but to draw upon the funds of rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the object of whimsical persecution to Bones, and his gang of rough riders. They harried his hitherto peaceful domains; smoked out his singing-school, by stopping up the chimney; broke into the school-house at night, in spite of its formidable fastenings of withe and window-stakes, and turned every thing topsy-turvy: so that the poor schoolmaster began to think all the witches in the country held their meetings there. But what was still more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and introduced as a rival of Ichabod’s to instruct her in psalmody.

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In this way matters went on for some time, without producing any material effect on the relative situation of the contending powers. On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty stool from whence he usually watched all the concerns of his little literary realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, that sceptre of despotic power; the birch of justice reposed on three nails behind the throne, a constant terror to evil-doers; while on the desk before him might be seen sundry contraband articles and prohibited weapons, detected upon the persons of idle urchins; such as half-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions of rampant little paper game-cocks. Apparently there had been some appalling act of justice recently inflicted, for his scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering behind them with one eye kept upon the master; and a kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the school-room. It was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro, in tow-cloth jacket and trousers, a round-crowned fragment of a hat, like the cap of Mercury, and mounted on the back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he managed with a rope by way of halter. He came clattering up to the school door, with an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merry-making or “quilting frolic,” to be held that evening at Mynheer Van Tassel’s; and having delivered his message with that air of importance, and effort at fine language, which a negro is apt to display on petty embassies of the kind, he dashed over the brook, and was seen scampering away up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his mission.

All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school-room. The scholars were hurried through their lessons, without stopping at trifles; those who were nimble skipped over half with impunity, and those who were tardy had a smart application now and then in the rear, to quicken their speed, or help them over a tall word. Books were flung aside without being put away on the shelves, inkstands were overturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual time, bursting forth like a legion of young imps, yelping and racketing about the green, in joy at their early emancipation.

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The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeed only suit of rusty black, and arranging his locks by a bit of broken looking-glass, that hung up in the school-house. That he might make his appearance before his mistress in the true style of a cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutchman, of the name of Hans Van Ripper, and, thus gallantly mounted, issued forth, like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is meet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give some account of the looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-down plough-horse, that had outlived almost every thing but his viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe neck and a head like a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral; but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from the name he bore of Gunpowder. He had, in fact, been a favorite steed of his master’s, the choleric Van Ripper, who was a furious rider, and had infused, very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal; for, old and broken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in him than in any young filly in the country.

Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers’; he carried his whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a sceptre, and, as his horse jogged on, the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty strip of forehead might be called; and the skirts of his black coat fluttered out almost to the horse’s tail. Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed, as they shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper, and it was altogether such an apparition as is seldom to be met with in broad daylight.

It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began to make their appearance high in the air; the bark of the squirrel might be heard from the groves of beech and hickory nuts, and the pensive whistle of the quail at intervals from the neighboring stubble-field.

The small birds were taking their farewell banquets. In the fulness of their revelry, they fluttered, chirping and frolicking, from bush to bush, and tree to tree, capricious from the very profusion and variety around them. There was the honest cock-robin, the favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud, querulous note; and the twittering blackbirds flying in sable clouds; and the golden-winged woodpecker, with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget, and splendid plumage; and the cedar-bird, with its red-tipt wings and yellow-tipt tail, and its little montero cap of feathers; and the blue jay, that noisy coxcomb, in his gay light-blue coat and white underclothes—screaming and chattering, nodding and bobbing and bowing, and pretending to be on good terms with every songster of the grove.

As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever open to every symptom of culinary abundance, ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. On all sides he beheld vast store of apples; some hanging in oppressive opulence on the trees; some gathered into baskets and barrels for the market; others heaped up in rich piles for the cider-press. Farther on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding out the promise of cakes and hasty- pudding; and the yellow pumpkins lying beneath them, turning up their fair round bellies to the sun, and giving ample prospects of the most luxurious of pies; and anon he passed the fragrant buckwheat fields, breathing the odor of the bee-hive, and as he beheld them soft anticipations stole over his mind of dainty slapjacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey or treacle, by the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina Van Tassel.

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Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and “sugared suppositions,” he journeyed along the sides of a range of hills which look out upon some of the goodliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down into the west. The wide bosom of the Tappan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged the blue shadow of the distant mountain. A few amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually into a pure apple green, and from that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark-gray and purple of their rocky sides. A sloop was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against the mast; and as the reflection of the sky gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was suspended in the air.

It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle of the Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the pride and flower of the adjacent country;—old farmers, a spare, leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles; their brisk withered little dames, in close crimped caps, long- waisted shortgowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside; buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock, gave symptoms of city innovation; the sons, in short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous brass buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fashion of the times, especially if they could procure an eel-skin for the purpose, it being esteemed, throughout the country, as a potent

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nourisher and strengthener of the hair.

Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, having come to the gathering on his favorite steed Daredevil, a creature, like himself, full of mettle and mischief, and which no one but himself could manage. He was, in fact, noted for preferring vicious animals, given to all kinds of tricks, which kept the rider in constant risk of his neck, for he held a tractable, well-broken horse as unworthy of a lad of spirit.

Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he entered the state parlor of Van Tassel’s mansion;—not those of the bevy of buxom lasses, with their luxurious display of red and white; but the ample charms of a genuine Dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such heaped-up platters of cakes of various and almost indescribable kinds, known only to experienced Dutch housewives! There was the doughty dough-nut, the tenderer oly koek, and the crisp and crumbling kruller; sweet-cakes and short-cakes, ginger-cakes and honey-cakes, and the whole family of cakes. And then there were apple-pies, and peach-pies, and pumpkin-pies; besides slices of ham and smoked beef; and moreover delectable dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears, and quinces; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens; together with bowls of milk and cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, pretty much as I have enumerated them, with the motherly tea-pot sending up its clouds of vapor from the midst— Heaven bless the mark! I want breath and time to discuss this banquet as it deserves, and am too eager to get on with my story. Happily, Ichabod Crane was not in so great a hurry as his historian, but did ample justice to every dainty.

He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer; and whose spirits rose with eating, as some men’s do with drink. He could not help, too, rolling his large eyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with the possibility that he might one day be lord of all this scene of almost unimaginable luxury and splendor. Then, he thought, how soon he’d turn his back upon the old school-house; snap his fingers in the face of Hans Van Ripper, and every other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare to call him comrade!

Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests with a face dilated with content and good-humor, round and jolly as the harvest moon. His hospitable attentions were brief, but expressive, being confined to a shake of the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to “fall to and help themselves.”

And now the sound of the music from the common room, or hall, summoned to the dance. The musician was an old grayheaded negro, who had been the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than half a century. His instrument was as old and battered as himself. The greater part of the time he scraped on two or three strings, accompanying every movement of the bow with a motion of the head; bowing almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot whenever a fresh couple were to start.

Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as upon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about him was idle; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full motion, and clattering about the room, you would have thought Saint Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the dance, was figuring before you in person. He was the admiration of all the negroes; who having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from the farm and the neighborhood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces at every door and window, gazing with delight at the scene, rolling their white eye- balls, and showing grinning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and joyous? the lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings; while Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in one corner.

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When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a knot of the sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former times, and drawing out long stories about the war.

This neighborhood, at the time of which I am speaking, was one of those highly-favored places which abound with chronicle and great men. The British and American line had run near it during the war; it had, therefore, been the scene of marauding, and infested with refugees, cow- boys, and all kinds of border chivalry. Just sufficient time had elapsed to enable each story-teller to dress up his tale with a little becoming fiction, and, in the indistinctness of his recollection, to make himself the hero of every exploit.

There was the story of Doffue Martling, a large blue-bearded Dutchman, who had nearly taken a British frigate with an old iron nine- pounder from a mud breastwork, only that his gun burst at the sixth discharge. And there was an old gentleman who shall be nameless, being too rich a mynheer to be lightly mentioned, who, in the battle of Whiteplains, being an excellent master of defence, parried a musket-ball with a small sword, insomuch that he absolutely felt it whiz round the blade, and glance off at the hilt; in proof of which, he was ready at any time to show the sword, with the hilt a little bent. There were several more that had been equally great in the field, not one of whom but was persuaded that he had a considerable hand in bringing the war to a happy termination.

But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and apparitions that succeeded. The neighborhood is rich in legendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and superstitions thrive best in these sheltered long-settled retreats; but are trampled under foot by the shifting throng that forms the population of most of our country places. Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our villages, for they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap, and turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends have travelled away from the neighborhood; so that when they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they have no acquaintance left to call upon. This is perhaps the reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts except in our long-established Dutch communities.

The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a contagion in the very air that blew from that haunted region; it breathed forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies infecting all the land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow people were present at Van Tassel’s, and, as usual, were doling out their wild and wonderful legends. Many dismal tales were told about funeral trains, and mourning cries and wailings heard and seen about the great tree where the unfortunate Major André was taken, and which stood in the neighborhood. Some mention was made also of the woman in white, that haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to shriek on winter nights before a storm, having perished there in the snow. The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the country; and, it was said, tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.

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The sequestered situation of this church seems always to have made it a favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust-trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian purity beaming through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime; but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. This was one of the favorite haunts of the headless horseman; and the place where he was most frequently encountered. The tale was told of old Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the horseman returning from his foray into Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged to get up behind him; how they galloped over bush and brake, over hill and swamp, until they reached the bridge; when the horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the brook, and sprang away over the tree-tops with a clap of thunder.

This story was immediately matched by a thrice marvellous adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the galloping Hessian as an arrant jockey. He affirmed that, on returning one night from the neighboring village of Sing Sing, he had been overtaken by this midnight trooper; that he had offered to race with him for a bowl of punch, and should have won it too, for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all hollow, but, just as they came to the church-bridge, the Hessian bolted, and vanished in a flash of fire.

All these tales, told in that drowsy undertone with which men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listeners only now and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sank deep in the mind of Ichabod. He repaid them in kind with large extracts from his invaluable author, Cotton Mather, and added many marvellous events that had taken place in his native State of Connecticut, and fearful sights which he had seen in his nightly walks about Sleepy Hollow.

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The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together their families in their wagons, and were heard for some time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills. Some of the damsels mounted on pillions behind their favorite swains, and their light-hearted laughter, mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, sounding fainter and fainter until they gradually died away—and the late scene of noise and frolic was all silent and deserted. Ichabod only lingered behind, according to the custom of country lovers, to have a tête-à-tête with the heiress, fully convinced that he was now on the high road to success. What passed at this interview I will not pretend to say, for in fact I do not know. Something, however, I fear me, must have gone wrong, for he certainly sallied forth, after no very great interval, with an air quite desolate and chop-fallen.—Oh, these women! these women! Could that girl have been playing off any of her coquettish tricks?—Was her encouragement of the poor pedagogue all a mere sham to secure her conquest of his rival?—Heaven only knows, not I!—Let it suffice to say, Ichabod stole forth with the air of one who had been sacking a hen-roost, rather 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 crest-fallen, pursued his travels homewards, 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 Tappan 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 farm-house 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 bull-frog, 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 centre 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 André, who had been taken prisoner hard by; and was universally known by the name of Major André’s tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales of strange sights and doleful lamentations told concerning it.

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As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to whistle; he thought his whistle was answered—it was but a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something white, hanging in the midst of the tree—he paused and ceased whistling; but on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by lightning, and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan—his teeth chattered and his knees smote against the saddle; it was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another, as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him.

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly-wooded glen, known by the name of Wiley’s swamp. A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. On that side of the road where the brook entered the wood, a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild grape-vines, threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured, and under the covert of those chestnuts and vines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised him. This has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark.

As he approached the stream his heart began to thump; he summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge; but instead of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary foot: it was all in vain; his steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes. The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller.

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late; and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering accents—“Who are you?” He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides of the inflexible Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm-tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and, with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and waywardness.

Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind—the other did the same. His heart began to sink within him; he endeavored to resume his psalm- tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion, that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless!—but

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his horror was still more increased, on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle: his terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping, by a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip—but the spectre started full jump with him. Away then they dashed, through thick and thin; stones flying, and sparks flashing at every bound. Ichabod’s flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his flight.

They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story, and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church.

As yet, the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider an apparent advantage in the chase; but just as he had got half way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by the pommel, and endeavored to hold it firm, but in vain; and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper’s wrath passed across his mind—for it was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his haunches; and (unskilful rider that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse’s backbone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleave him asunder.

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An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. 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 recollected the place where Brom Bones’s 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 sprang 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 endeavored 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.

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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 schoolmaster. 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 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 unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered pumpkin.

The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmaster was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as executor of his estate, examined the bundle which contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two shirts and a half; two stocks for the neck; a pair or two of worsted stockings; an old pair of corduroy small-clothes; a rusty razor; a book of psalm-tunes, full of dogs’ ears; and a broken pitchpipe. 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 Almanac, and a book of dreams and fortune-telling; in which last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted, in several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in honor of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and the poetic scrawl were forthwith 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 schoolmaster 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, of Bones, and a whole budget of others, were called to mind; and when they had diligently considered them all, and compared them with the symptoms 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 adventure was received, brought home the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood, 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 the 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.

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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 ploughboy, 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.

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THE preceding Tale is given almost in the precise words in which I heard it related, at a Corporation meeting of the ancient city of Manhattoes, at which were present many of its sagest and most illustrious burghers. The narrator was a pleasant, shabby, gentlemanly old fellow, in pepper-and-salt clothes, with a sadly humorous face; and one whom I strongly suspected of being poor,—he made such efforts to be entertaining. When his story was concluded, there was much laughter and approbation, particularly from two or three deputy aldermen, who had been asleep the greater part of the time. There was, however, one tall, dry-looking old gentleman, with beetling eyebrows, who maintained a grave and rather severe face throughout: now and then folding his arms, inclining his head, and looking down upon the floor, as if turning a doubt over in his mind. He was one of your wary men, who never laugh but upon good grounds—when they have reason and the law on their side. When the mirth of the rest of the company had subsided, and silence was restored, he leaned one arm on the elbow of his chair, and, sticking the other akimbo, demanded, with a slight but exceedingly sage motion of the head, and contraction of the brow, what was the moral of the story, and what it went to prove?

The story-teller, who was just putting a glass of wine to his lips, as a refreshment after his toils, paused for a moment, looked at his inquirer with an air of infinite deference, and, lowering the glass slowly to the table, observed, that the story was intended most logically to prove:—

“That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and pleasures—provided we will but take a joke as we find it:

“That, therefore, he that runs races with goblin troopers is likely to have rough riding of it.

“Ergo, for a country schoolmaster to be refused the hand of a Dutch heiress, is a certain step to high preferment in the state.”

The cautious old gentleman knit his brows tenfold closer after this explanation, being sorely puzzled by the ratiocination of the syllogism; while, methought, the one in pepper-and-salt eyed him with something of a triumphant leer. At length he observed that all this was very well, but still he thought the story a little on the extravagant—there were one or two points on which he had his doubts.

“Faith, sir,” replied the story-teller, “as to that matter, I don’t believe one-half of it myself.”

D. K.

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Young Goodman BrownBy Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), 1835

YOUNG GOODMAN BROWN came forth at sunset, into the street of Salem village, but put his

head back, after crossing the threshold, to exchange a parting kiss with his young wife. And

Faith, as the wife was aptly named, thrust her own pretty head into the street, letting the wind

play with the pink ribbons of her cap, while she called to Goodman Brown.

"Dearest heart," whispered she, softly and rather sadly, when her lips were close to his ear,

"pr'y thee, put off your journey until sunrise, and sleep in your own bed to-night. A lone woman

is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts, that she's afeard of herself, sometimes. Pray,

tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year!"

"My love and my Faith," replied young Goodman Brown, "of all nights in the year, this one

night must I tarry away from thee. My journey, as thou callest it, forth and back again, must

needs be done 'twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already,

and we but three months married!"

"Then God bless you!" said Faith, with the pink ribbons, "and may you find all well, when you

come back."

"Amen!" cried Goodman Brown. "Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no

harm will come to thee."

So they parted; and the young man pursued his way, until, being about to turn the corner by

the meeting-house, he looked back and saw the head of Faith still peeping after him, with a

melancholy air, in spite of her pink ribbons.

"Poor little Faith!" thought he, for his heart smote him. "What a wretch am I, to leave her on

such an errand! She talks of dreams, too. Methought, as she spoke, there was trouble in her face,

as if a dream had warned her what work is to be done to-night. But, no, no! 'twould kill her to

think it. Well; she's a blessed angel on earth; and after this one night, I'll cling to her skirts and

follow her to Heaven."

With this excellent resolve for the future, Goodman Brown felt himself justified in making

more haste on his present evil purpose. He had taken a dreary road, darkened by all the gloomiest

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trees of the forest, which barely stood aside to let the narrow path creep through, and closed

immediately behind. It was all as lonely as could be; and there is this peculiarity in such a

solitude, that the traveller knows not who may be concealed by the innumerable trunks and the

thick boughs overhead; so that, with lonely footsteps, he may yet be passing through an unseen

multitude.

"There may be a devilish Indian behind every tree," said Goodman Brown to himself; and he

glanced fearfully behind him, as he added, "What if the devil himself should be at my very

elbow!"

His head being turned back, he passed a crook of the road, and looking forward again, beheld

the figure of a man, in grave and decent attire, seated at the foot of an old tree. He arose, at

Goodman Brown's approach, and walked onward, side by side with him.

"You are late, Goodman Brown," said he. "The clock of the Old South was striking, as I came

through Boston; and that is full fifteen minutes agone."

"Faith kept me back awhile," replied the young man, with a tremor in his voice, caused by the

sudden appearance of his companion, though not wholly unexpected.

It was now deep dusk in the forest, and deepest in that part of it where these two were

journeying. As nearly as could be discerned, the second traveller was about fifty years old,

apparently in the same rank of life as Goodman Brown, and bearing a considerable resemblance

to him, though perhaps more in expression than features. Still, they might have been taken for

father and son. And yet, though the elder person was as simply clad as the younger, and as

simple in manner too, he had an indescribable air of one who knew the world, and would not

have felt abashed at the governor's dinner-table, or in King William's court, were it possible that

his affairs should call him thither. But the only thing about him, that could be fixed upon as

remarkable, was his staff, which bore the likeness of a great black snake, so curiously wrought,

that it might almost be seen to twist and wriggle itself like a living serpent. This, of course, must

have been an ocular deception, assisted by the uncertain light.

"Come, Goodman Brown!" cried his fellow-traveller, "this is a dull pace for the beginning of a

journey. Take my staff, if you are so soon weary."

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"Friend," said the other, exchanging his slow pace for a full stop, "having kept covenant by

meeting thee here, it is my purpose now to return whence I came. I have scruples, touching the

matter thou wot'st of."

"Sayest thou so?" replied he of the serpent, smiling apart. "Let us walk on, nevertheless,

reasoning as we go, and if I convince thee not, thou shalt turn back. We are but a little way in the

forest, yet."

"Too far, too far!" exclaimed the goodman, unconsciously resuming his walk. "My father

never went into the woods on such an errand, nor his father before him. We have been a race of

honest men and good Christians, since the days of the martyrs. And shall I be the first of the

name of Brown, that ever took this path and kept--"

"Such company, thou wouldst say," observed the elder person, interrupting his pause. "Well

said, Goodman Brown! I have been as well acquainted with your family as with ever a one

among the Puritans; and that's no trifle to say. I helped your grandfather, the constable, when he

lashed the Quaker woman so smartly through the streets of Salem. And it was I that brought your

father a pitch-pine knot, kindled at my own hearth, to set fire to an Indian village, in King

Philip's War. They were my good friends, both; and many a pleasant walk have we had along

this path, and returned merrily after midnight. I would fain be friends with you, for their sake."

"If it be as thou sayest," replied Goodman Brown, "I marvel they never spoke of these matters.

Or, verily, I marvel not, seeing that the least rumor of the sort would have driven them from New

England. We are a people of prayer, and good works to boot, and abide no such wickedness."

"Wickedness or not," said the traveller with the twisted staff, "I have a very general

acquaintance here in New England. The deacons of many a church have drunk the communion

wine with me; the selectmen, of divers towns, make me their chairman; and a majority of the

Great and General Court are firm supporters of my interest. The governor and I, too--but these

are state-secrets."

"Can this be so!" cried Goodman Brown, with a stare of amazement at his undisturbed

companion. "Howbeit, I have nothing to do with the governor and council; they have their own

ways, and are no rule for a simple husbandman like me. But, were I to go on with thee, how

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should I meet the eye of that good old man, our minister, at Salem village? Oh, his voice would

make me tremble, both Sabbath-day and lecture-day!"

Thus far, the elder traveller had listened with due gravity, but now burst into a fit of

irrepressible mirth, shaking himself so violently that his snake-like staff actually seemed to

wriggle in sympathy.

"Ha! ha! ha!" shouted he, again and again; then composing himself, "Well, go on, Goodman

Brown, go on; but, pr'y thee, don't kill me with laughing!"

"Well, then, to end the matter at once," said Goodman Brown, considerably nettled, "there is

my wife, Faith. It would break her dear little heart; and I'd rather break my own!"

"Nay, if that be the case," answered the other, "e'en go thy ways, Goodman Brown. I would

not, for twenty old women like the one hobbling before us, that Faith should come to any harm."

As he spoke, he pointed his staff at a female figure on the path, in whom Goodman Brown

recognized a very pious and exemplary dame, who had taught him his catechism in youth, and

was still his moral and spiritual adviser, jointly with the minister and Deacon Gookin.

"A marvel, truly, that Goody Cloyse should be so far in the wilderness, at night-fall!" said he.

"But, with your leave, friend, I shall take a cut through the woods, until we have left this

Christian woman behind. Being a stranger to you, she might ask whom I was consorting with,

and whither I was going."

"Be it so," said his fellow-traveller. "Betake you to the woods, and let me keep the path."

Accordingly, the young man turned aside, but took care to watch his companion, who

advanced softly along the road, until he had come within a staff's length of the old dame. She,

meanwhile, was making the best of her way, with singular speed for so aged a woman, and

mumbling some indistinct words, a prayer, doubtless, as she went. The traveller put forth his

staff, and touched her withered neck with what seemed the serpent's tail.

"The devil!" screamed the pious old lady.

"Then Goody Cloyse knows her old friend?" observed the traveller, confronting her, and

leaning on his writhing stick.

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"Ah, forsooth, and is it your worship, indeed?" cried the good dame. "Yea, truly is it, and in

the very image of my old gossip, Goodman Brown, the grandfather of the silly fellow that now

is. But--would your worship believe it?--my broomstick hath strangely disappeared, stolen, as I

suspect, by that unhanged witch, Goody Cory, and that, too, when I was all anointed with the

juice of smallage and cinque-foil and wolf's-bane--"

"Mingled with fine wheat and the fat of a new-born babe," said the shape of old Goodman

Brown.

"Ah, your worship knows the recipe," cried the old lady, cackling aloud. "So, as I was saying,

being all ready for the meeting, and no horse to ride on, I made up my mind to foot it; for they

tell me, there is a nice young man to be taken into communion to-night. But now your good

worship will lend me your arm, and we shall be there in a twinkling."

"That can hardly be," answered her friend. "I may not spare you my arm, Goody Cloyse, but

here is my staff, if you will."

So saying, he threw it down at her feet, where, perhaps, it assumed life, being one of the rods

which its owner had formerly lent to Egyptian Magi. Of this fact, however, Goodman Brown

could not take cognizance. He had cast up his eyes in astonishment, and looking down again,

beheld neither Goody Cloyse nor the serpentine staff, but his fellow-traveller alone, who waited

for him as calmly as if nothing had happened.

"That old woman taught me my catechism!" said the young man; and there was a world of

meaning in this simple comment.

They continued to walk onward, while the elder traveller exhorted his companion to make

good speed and persevere in the path, discoursing so aptly, that his arguments seemed rather to

spring up in the bosom of his auditor, than to be suggested by himself. As they went, he plucked

a branch of maple, to serve for a walking-stick, and began to strip it of the twigs and little

boughs, which were wet with evening dew. The moment his fingers touched them, they became

strangely withered and dried up, as with a week's sunshine. Thus the pair proceeded, at a good

free pace, until suddenly, in a gloomy hollow of the road, Goodman Brown sat himself down on

the stump of a tree, and refused to go any farther.

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"Friend," said he, stubbornly, "my mind is made up. Not another step will I budge on this

errand. What if a wretched old woman do choose to go to the devil, when I thought she was

going to Heaven! Is that any reason why I should quit my dear Faith, and go after her?"

"You will think better of this by-and-by," said his acquaintance, composedly. "Sit here and

rest yourself awhile; and when you feel like moving again, there is my staff to help you along."

Without more words, he threw his companion the maple stick, and was as speedily out of

sight, as if he had vanished into the deepening gloom. The young man sat a few moments by the

road-side, applauding himself greatly, and thinking with how clear a conscience he should meet

the minister, in his morning-walk, nor shrink from the eye of good old Deacon Gookin. And

what calm sleep would be his, that very night, which was to have been spent so wickedly, but

purely and sweetly now, in the arms of Faith! Amidst these pleasant and praiseworthy

meditations, Goodman Brown heard the tramp of horses along the road, and deemed it advisable

to conceal himself within the verge of the forest, conscious of the guilty purpose that had brought

him thither, though now so happily turned from it.

On came the hoof-tramps and the voices of the riders, two grave old voices, conversing

soberly as they drew near. These mingled sounds appeared to pass along the road, within a few

yards of the young man's hiding-place; but owing, doubtless, to the depth of the gloom, at that

particular spot, neither the travellers nor their steeds were visible. Though their figures brushed

the small boughs by the way-side, it could not be seen that they intercepted, even for a moment,

the faint gleam from the strip of bright sky, athwart which they must have passed. Goodman

Brown alternately crouched and stood on tip-toe, pulling aside the branches, and thrusting forth

his head as far as he durst, without discerning so much as a shadow. It vexed him the more,

because he could have sworn, were such a thing possible, that he recognized the voices of the

minister and Deacon Gookin, jogging along quietly, as they were wont to do, when bound to

some ordination or ecclesiastical council. While yet within hearing, one of the riders stopped to

pluck a switch.

"Of the two, reverend Sir," said the voice like the deacon's, I had rather miss an ordination-

dinner than tonight's meeting. They tell me that some of our community are to be here from

Falmouth and beyond, and others from Connecticut and Rhode-Island; besides several of the

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Indian powows, who, after their fashion, know almost as much deviltry as the best of us.

Moreover, there is a goodly young woman to be taken into communion."

"Mighty well, Deacon Gookin!" replied the solemn old tones of the minister. "Spur up, or we

shall be late. Nothing can be done, you know, until I get on the ground."

The hoofs clattered again, and the voices, talking so strangely in the empty air, passed on

through the forest, where no church had ever been gathered, nor solitary Christian prayed.

Whither, then, could these holy men be journeying, so deep into the heathen wilderness? Young

Goodman Brown caught hold of a tree, for support, being ready to sink down on the ground,

faint and overburthened with the heavy sickness of his heart. He looked up to the sky, doubting

whether there really was a Heaven above him. Yet, there was the blue arch, and the stars

brightening in it.

"With Heaven above, and Faith below, I will yet stand firm against the devil!" cried Goodman

Brown.

While he still gazed upward, into the deep arch of the firmament, and had lifted his hands to

pray, a cloud, though no wind was stirring, hurried across the zenith, and hid the brightening

stars. The blue sky was still visible, except directly overhead, where this black mass of cloud was

sweeping swiftly northward. Aloft in the air, as if from the depths of the cloud, came a confused

and doubtful sound of voices. Once, the listener fancied that he could distinguish the accent of

town's-people of his own, men and women, both pious and ungodly, many of whom he had met

at the communion-table, and had seen others rioting at the tavern. The next moment, so indistinct

were the sounds, he doubted whether he had heard aught but the murmur of the old forest,

whispering without a wind. Then came a stronger swell of those familiar tones, heard daily in the

sunshine, at Salem village, but never, until now, from a cloud of night. There was one voice, of a

young woman, uttering lamentations, yet with an uncertain sorrow, and entreating for some

favor, which, perhaps, it would grieve her to obtain. And all the unseen multitude, both saints

and sinners, seemed to encourage her onward.

"Faith!" shouted Goodman Brown, in a voice of agony and desperation; and the echoes of the

forest mocked him, crying --"Faith! Faith!" as if bewildered wretches were seeking her, all

through the wilderness.

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The cry of grief, rage, and terror, was yet piercing the night, when the unhappy husband held

his breath for a response. There was a scream, drowned immediately in a louder murmur of

voices, fading into far-off laughter, as the dark cloud swept away, leaving the clear and silent sky

above Goodman Brown. But something fluttered lightly down through the air, and caught on the

branch of a tree. The young man seized it, and beheld a pink ribbon.

"My Faith is gone!" cried he, after one stupefied moment. "There is no good on earth; and sin

is but a name. Come, devil! for to thee is this world given."

And maddened with despair, so that he laughed loud and long, did Goodman Brown grasp his

staff and set forth again, at such a rate, that he seemed to fly along the forest-path, rather than to

walk or run. The road grew wilder and drearier, and more faintly traced, and vanished at length,

leaving him in the heart of the dark wilderness, still rushing onward, with the instinct that guides

mortal man to evil. The whole forest was peopled with frightful sounds; the creaking of the trees,

the howling of wild beasts, and the yell of Indians; while, sometimes the wind tolled like a

distant church-bell, and sometimes gave a broad roar around the traveller, as if all Nature were

laughing him to scorn. But he was himself the chief horror of the scene, and shrank not from its

other horrors.

"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Goodman Brown, when the wind laughed at him. "Let us hear which will

laugh loudest! Think not to frighten me with your deviltry! Come witch, come wizard, come

Indian powow, come devil himself! and here comes Goodman Brown. You may as well fear him

as he fear you!"

In truth, all through the haunted forest, there could be nothing more frightful than the figure of

Goodman Brown. On he flew, among the black pines, brandishing his staff with frenzied

gestures, now giving vent to an inspiration of horrid blasphemy, and now shouting forth such

laughter, as set all the echoes of the forest laughing like demons around him. The fiend in his

own shape is less hideous, than when he rages in the breast of man. Thus sped the demoniac on

his course, until, quivering among the trees, he saw a red light before him, as when the felled

trunks and branches of a clearing have been set on fire, and throw up their lurid blaze against the

sky, at the hour of midnight. He paused, in a lull of the tempest that had driven him onward, and

heard the swell of what seemed a hymn, rolling solemnly from a distance, with the weight of

many voices. He knew the tune; it was a familiar one in the choir of the village meeting-house.

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The verse died heavily away, and was lengthened by a chorus, not of human voices, but of all the

sounds of the benighted wilderness, pealing in awful harmony together. Goodman Brown cried

out; and his cry was lost to his own ear, by its unison with the cry of the desert.

In the interval of silence, he stole forward, until the light glared full upon his eyes. At one

extremity of an open space, hemmed in by the dark wall of the forest, arose a rock, bearing some

rude, natural resemblance either to an altar or a pulpit, and surrounded by four blazing pines,

their tops aflame, their stems untouched, like candles at an evening meeting. The mass of foliage,

that had overgrown the summit of the rock, was all on fire, blazing high into the night, and

fitfully illuminating the whole field. Each pendent twig and leafy festoon was in a blaze. As the

red light arose and fell, a numerous congregation alternately shone forth, then disappeared in

shadow, and again grew, as it were, out of the darkness, peopling the heart of the solitary woods

at once.

"A grave and dark-clad company!" quoth Goodman Brown.

In truth, they were such. Among them, quivering to-and-fro, between gloom and splendor,

appeared faces that would be seen, next day, at the council-board of the province, and others

which, Sabbath after Sabbath, looked devoutly heavenward, and benignantly over the crowded

pews, from the holiest pulpits in the land. Some affirm, that the lady of the governor was there.

At least, there were high dames well known to her, and wives of honored husbands, and widows,

a great multitude, and ancient maidens, all of excellent repute, and fair young girls, who

trembled lest their mothers should espy them. Either the sudden gleams of light, flashing over the

obscure field, bedazzled Goodman Brown, or he recognized a score of the church-members of

Salem village, famous for their especial sanctity. Good old Deacon Gookin had arrived, and

waited at the skirts of that venerable saint, his reverend pastor. But, irreverently consorting with

these grave, reputable, and pious people, these elders of the church, these chaste dames and dewy

virgins, there were men of dissolute lives and women of spotted fame, wretches given over to all

mean and filthy vice, and suspected even of horrid crimes. It was strange to see, that the good

shrank not from the wicked, nor were the sinners abashed by the saints. Scattered, also, among

their palefaced enemies, were the Indian priests, or powows, who had often scared their native

forest with more hideous incantations than any known to English witchcraft.

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"But, where is Faith?" thought Goodman Brown; and, as hope came into his heart, he

trembled.

Another verse of the hymn arose, a slow and mournful strain, such as the pious love, but

joined to words which expressed all that our nature can conceive of sin, and darkly hinted at far

more. Unfathomable to mere mortals is the lore of fiends. Verse after verse was sung, and still

the chorus of the desert swelled between, like the deepest tone of a mighty organ. And, with the

final peal of that dreadful anthem, there came a sound, as if the roaring wind, the rushing

streams, the howling beasts, and every other voice of the unconverted wilderness, were mingling

and according with the voice of guilty man, in homage to the prince of all. The four blazing pines

threw up a loftier flame, and obscurely discovered shapes and visages of horror on the smoke-

wreaths, above the impious assembly. At the same moment, the fire on the rock shot redly forth,

and formed a glowing arch above its base, where now appeared a figure. With reverence be it

spoken, the figure bore no slight similitude, both in garb and manner, to some grave divine of the

New-England churches.

"Bring forth the converts!" cried a voice, that echoed through the field and rolled into the

forest.

At the word, Goodman Brown stepped forth from the shadow of the trees, and approached the

congregation, with whom he felt a loathful brotherhood, by the sympathy of all that was wicked

in his heart. He could have well nigh sworn, that the shape of his own dead father beckoned him

to advance, looking downward from a smoke-wreath, while a woman, with dim features of

despair, threw out her hand to warn him back. Was it his mother? But he had no power to retreat

one step, nor to resist, even in thought, when the minister and good old Deacon Gookin seized

his arms, and led him to the blazing rock. Thither came also the slender form of a veiled female,

led between Goody Cloyse, that pious teacher of the catechism, and Martha Carrier, who had

received the devil's promise to be queen of hell. A rampant hag was she! And there stood the

proselytes, beneath the canopy of fire.

"Welcome, my children," said the dark figure, "to the communion of your race! Ye have

found, thus young, your nature and your destiny. My children, look behind you!"

They turned; and flashing forth, as it were, in a sheet of flame, the fiend-worshippers were

seen; the smile of welcome gleamed darkly on every visage.

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"There," resumed the sable form, "are all whom ye have reverenced from youth. Ye deemed

them holier than yourselves, and shrank from your own sin, contrasting it with their lives of

righteousness, and prayerful aspirations heavenward. Yet, here are they all, in my worshipping

assembly! This night it shall be granted you to know their secret deeds; how hoary-bearded

elders of the church have whispered wanton words to the young maids of their households; how

many a woman, eager for widow's weeds, has given her husband a drink at bed-time, and let him

sleep his last sleep in her bosom; how beardless youth have made haste to inherit their father's

wealth; and how fair damsels--blush not, sweet ones--have dug little graves in the garden, and

bidden me, the sole guest, to an infant's funeral. By the sympathy of your human hearts for sin,

ye shall scent out all the places--whether in church, bed-chamber, street, field, or forest--where

crime has been committed, and shall exult to behold the whole earth one stain of guilt, one

mighty blood-spot. Far more than this! It shall be yours to penetrate, in every bosom, the deep

mystery of sin, the fountain of all wicked arts, and which inexhaustibly supplies more evil

impulses than human power--than my power at its utmost!--can make manifest in deeds. And

now, my children, look upon each other."

They did so; and, by the blaze of the hell-kindled torches, the wretched man beheld his Faith,

and the wife her husband, trembling before that unhallowed altar.

"Lo! there ye stand, my children," said the figure, in a deep and solemn tone, almost sad, with

its despairing awfulness, as if his once angelic nature could yet mourn for our miserable race.

"Depending upon one another's hearts, ye had still hoped that virtue were not all a dream! Now

are ye undeceived! Evil is the nature of mankind. Evil must be your only happiness. Welcome,

again, my children, to the communion of your race!"

"Welcome!" repeated the fiend-worshippers, in one cry of despair and triumph.

And there they stood, the only pair, as it seemed, who were yet hesitating on the verge of

wickedness, in this dark world. A basin was hollowed, naturally, in the rock. Did it contain

water, reddened by the lurid light? or was it blood? or, perchance, a liquid flame? Herein did the

Shape of Evil dip his hand, and prepare to lay the mark of baptism upon their foreheads, that they

might be partakers of the mystery of sin, more conscious of the secret guilt of others, both in

deed and thought, than they could now be of their own. The husband cast one look at his pale

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wife, and Faith at him. What polluted wretches would the next glance show them to each other,

shuddering alike at what they disclosed and what they saw!

"Faith! Faith!" cried the husband. "Look up to Heaven, and resist the Wicked One!"

Whether Faith obeyed, he knew not. Hardly had he spoken, when he found himself amid calm

night and solitude, listening to a roar of the wind, which died heavily away through the forest. He

staggered against the rock, and felt it chill and damp, while a hanging twig, that had been all on

fire, besprinkled his cheek with the coldest dew.

The next morning, young Goodman Brown came slowly into the street of Salem village,

staring around him like a bewildered man. The good old minister was taking a walk along the

graveyard, to get an appetite for breakfast and meditate his sermon, and bestowed a blessing, as

he passed, on Goodman Brown. He shrank from the venerable saint, as if to avoid an anathema.

Old Deacon Gookin was at domestic worship, and the holy words of his prayer were heard

through the open window. "What God doth the wizard pray to?" quoth Goodman Brown. Goody

Cloyse, that excellent old Christian, stood in the early sunshine, at her own lattice, catechising a

little girl, who had brought her a pint of morning's milk. Goodman Brown snatched away the

child, as from the grasp of the fiend himself. Turning the corner by the meeting-house, he spied

the head of Faith, with the pink ribbons, gazing anxiously forth, and bursting into such joy at

sight of him, that she skipt along the street, and almost kissed her husband before the whole

village. But Goodman Brown looked sternly and sadly into her face, and passed on without a

greeting.

Had Goodman Brown fallen asleep in the forest, and only dreamed a wild dream of a witch-

meeting?

Be it so, if you will. But, alas! it was a dream of evil omen for young Goodman Brown. A

stern, a sad, a darkly meditative, a distrustful, if not a desperate man, did he become, from the

night of that fearful dream. On the Sabbath-day, when the congregation were singing a holy

psalm, he could not listen, because an anthem of sin rushed loudly upon his ear, and drowned all

the blessed strain. When the minister spoke from the pulpit, with power and fervid eloquence,

and with his hand on the open Bible, of the sacred truths of our religion, and of saint-like lives

and triumphant deaths, and of future bliss or misery unutterable, then did Goodman Brown turn

pale, dreading lest the roof should thunder down upon the gray blasphemer and his hearers.

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Often, awaking suddenly at midnight, he shrank from the bosom of Faith, and at morning or

eventide, when the family knelt down at prayer, he scowled, and muttered to himself, and gazed

sternly at his wife, and turned away. And when he had lived long, and was borne to his grave, a

hoary corpse, followed by Faith, an aged woman, and children and grand-children, a goodly

procession, besides neighbors, not a few, they carved no hopeful verse upon his tombstone; for

his dying hour was gloom.

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The Boarded WindowBy: Ambrose Bierce

In 1830, only a few miles away from what is now the great city of Cincinnati, lay an

immense and almost unbroken forest. The whole region was sparsely settled by people of the

frontier - restless souls who no sooner had hewn fairly habitable homes out of the wilderness and

attained to that degree of prosperity which today we should call indigence, than, impelled by

some mysterious impulse of their nature, they abandoned all and pushed farther westward, to

encounter new perils and privations in the effort to regain the meagre comforts which they had

voluntarily renounced. Many of them had already forsaken that region for the remoter

settlements, but among those remaining was one who had been of those first arriving. He lived

alone in a house of logs surrounded on all sides by the great forest, of whose gloom and silence

he seemed a part, for no one had ever known him to smile nor speak a needless word. His simple

wants were supplied by the sale or barter of skins of wild animals in the river town, for not a

thing did he grow upon the land which, if needful, he might have claimed by right of undisturbed

possession. There were evidences of "improvement" - a few acres of ground immediately about

the house had once been cleared of its trees, the decayed

stumps of which were half concealed by the new growth that had been suffered to repair the

ravage wrought by the axe. Apparently the man's zeal for agriculture had burned with a failing

flame, expiring in penitential ashes.

The little log house, with its chimney of sticks, its roof of warping clapboards

weighted with traversing poles and its "chinking" of clay, had a single door and, directly

opposite, a window. The latter, however, was boarded up - nobody could remember a time when

it was not. And none knew why it was so closed; certainly not because of the occupant's dislike

of light and air, for on those rare occasions when a hunter had passed that lonely spot the recluse

had commonly been seen sunning himself on his doorstep if heaven had provided sunshine for

his need. I fancy there are few persons living today who ever knew the secret of that window, but

I am one, as you shall see.

The man's name was said to be Murlock. He was apparently seventy years old, actually

about fifty. Something besides years had had a hand in his ageing. His hair and long, full beard

were white, his grey, lustreless eyes sunken, his face singularly seamed with wrinkles which

appeared to belong to two intersecting systems. In figure he was tall and spare, with a stoop of

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the shoulders - a burden bearer. I never saw him; these particulars I learned from my grandfather,

from whom also I got the man's story when I was a lad. He had known him when living near by

in that early day.

One day Murlock was found in his cabin, dead. It was not a time and place for

coroners and newspapers, and I suppose it was agreed that he had died from natural causes or I

should have been told, and should remember. I know only that with what was probably a sense

of the fitness of things the body was buried near the cabin, alongside the grave of his wife, who

had preceded him by so many years that local tradition had retained hardly a hint of her

existence. That closes the final chapter of this true story - excepting, indeed, the circumstance

that many years afterward, in company with an equally intrepid spirit, I penetrated to the place

and ventured near enough to the ruined cabin to throw a stone against it, and ran away to avoid

the ghost which every well-informed boy thereabout knew haunted the spot. But there is an

earlier chapter - that supplied by my grandfather.

When Murlock built his cabin and began laying sturdily about with his axe to hew out a

farm - the rifle, meanwhile, his means of support - he was young, strong and full of hope. In that

eastern country whence he came he had married, as was the fashion, a young woman in all ways

worthy of his honest devotion, who shared the dangers and privations of his lot with a willing

spirit and light heart. There is no known record of her name; of her charms of mind and person

tradition is silent and the doubter is at liberty to entertain his doubt; but God forbid that I should

share it! Of their affection and happiness there is abundant assurance in every added day of the

man's widowed life; for what but the magnetism of a blessed memory could have chained that

venturesome spirit to a lot like that?

One day Murlock returned from gunning in a distant part of the forest to find his wife

prostrate with fever, and delirious. There was no physician within miles, no neighbour; nor was

she in a condition to be left, to summon help. So he set about the task of nursing her back to

health, but at the end of the third day she fell into unconsciousness arid so passed away,

apparently, with never a gleam of returning reason.

From what we know of a nature like his we may venture to sketch in some of the details

of the outline picture drawn by my grandfather. When convinced that she was dead, Murlock had

sense enough to remember that the dead must be prepared for burial. In performance of this

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sacred duty he blundered now and again, did certain things incorrectly, and others which he did

correctly were done over and over. His occasional failures to accomplish some simple and

ordinary act filled him with astonishment, like that of a drunken man who wonders at the

suspension of familiar natural laws. He was surprised, too, that he did not weep - surprised and a

little ashamed; surely it is unkind not to weep for the dead. "Tomorrow," he said aloud, "I shall

have to make the coffin arid dig the grave; and then I shall miss her, when she is no longer in

sight; but now - she is dead, of course, but it is all right - it must be all right, somehow. Things

cannot be so bad as they seem."

He stood over the body in the fading light, adjusting the hair and putting the finishing

touches to the simple toilet, doing all mechanically, with soulless care. And still through his

consciousness ran an undersense of conviction that all was right - that he should have her again

as before, and everything explained. He had had no experience in grief; his capacity had not been

enlarged by use. His heart could not contain it all, nor his imagination rightly conceive it. He did

not know he was so hard struck; that knowledge would come later, and never go. Grief is an

artist of powers as various as the instruments upon which he plays his dirges for the dead,

evoking from some the sharpest, shrillest notes, from others the low, grave chords that throb

recurrent like the slow beating of a distant drum. Some natures it startles; some it stupefies. To

one it comes like the stroke of an arrow, stinging all the sensibilities to a keener life; to another

as the blow of a bludgeon, which in crushing benumbs. We may conceive Murlock to have been

that way affected, for (and here we are upon surer ground than that of conjecture) no sooner had

he finished his pious work than, sinking into a chair by the side of the table upon which the body

lay, and noting how white the profile showed in the deepening gloom, he laid his arms upon the

table's edge, and dropped his face into them, tearless yet and unutterably weary. At that moment

came in through the open

window a long, wailing sound like the cry of a lost child in the far deeps of the darkening woods!

But the man did not move. Again, and nearer than before, sounded that unearthly cry upon his

failing sense. Perhaps it was a wild beast; perhaps it was a dream. For Murlock was asleep.

Some hours later, as it afterward appeared, this unfaithful watcher awoke and lifting his

head from his arms intently listened - he knew not why. There in the black darkness by the side

of the dead, recalling all without a shock, he strained his eyes to see – he knew not what. His

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senses were all alert, his breath was suspended, his blood had stilled its tides as if to assist the

silence. Who - what had waked him, and where was it?

Suddenly the table shook beneath his arms, and at the same moment he heard, or fancied

that he heard, a light, soft step - another - sounds as of bare feet upon the floor!

He was terrified beyond the power to cry out or move. Perforce he waited – waited there

in the darkness through seeming centuries of such dread as one may know, yet live to tell. He

tried vainly to speak the dead woman's name, vainly to stretch forth his hand across the table to

learn if she were there. His throat was powerless, his arms and hands were like lead. Then

occurred something most frightful. Some heavy body seemed hurled against the table with an

impetus that pushed it against his breast so sharply as nearly to overthrow him, and at the same

instant he heard and felt the fall of something upon the floor with so violent a thump that the

whole house was shaken by the impact. A scuffling ensued, and a confusion of sounds

impossible to describe. Murlock had risen to his feet. Fear had by excess forfeited control of his

faculties. He flung his hands upon the table. Nothing was there!

There is a point at which terror may turn to madness; and madness incites to action. With

no definite intent, from no motive but the wayward impulse of a madman, Murlock sprang to the

wall, with a little groping seized his loaded rifle, and without aim discharged it. By the flash

which lit up the room with a vivid illumination, he saw an enormous panther dragging the dead

woman toward the window, its teeth fixed in her throat! Then there were darkness blacker than

before, and silence; and when he returned to consciousness the sun was high and the wood vocal

with songs of birds.

The body lay near the window, where the beast had left it when frightened away by the

flash and report of the rifle. The clothing was deranged, the long hair in disorder, the limbs lay

anyhow. From the throat, dreadfully lacerated, had issued a pool of blood not yet entirely

coagulated. The ribbon with which he had bound the wrists was broken; the hands were tightly

clenched. Between the teeth was a fragment of the animal's ear.

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The Fall of the House of UsherDURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when

the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback,

through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the

evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was - but,

with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say

insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic,

sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate

or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me - upon the mere house, and the simple landscape

features of the domain - upon the bleak walls - upon the vacant eye-like windows - upon a few

rank sedges - and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees - with an utter depression of soul

which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller

upon opium - the bitter lapse into everyday life - the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was

an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart - an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no

goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it - I paused to

think - what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a

mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I

pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt,

there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us,

still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I

reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the

picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful

impression ; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and

lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down - but with a shudder even

more thrilling than before - upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the

ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.

Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself a sojourn of some

weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions in boyhood; but

many years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached me in a

distant part of the country - a letter from him - which, in its wildly importunate nature, had

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admitted of no other than a personal reply. The MS. gave evidence of nervous agitation. The

writer spoke of acute bodily illness - of a mental disorder which oppressed him - and of an

earnest desire to see me, as his best, and indeed his only personal friend, with a view of

attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some alleviation of his malady. It was the manner

in which all this, and much more, was said - it was the apparent heart that went with his request -

which allowed me no room for hesitation; and I accordingly obeyed forthwith what I still

considered a very singular summons.

Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet I really knew little of my

friend. His reserve had been always excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, that his very

ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility of temperament,

displaying itself, through long ages, in many works of exalted art, and manifested, of late, in

repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity, as well as in a passionate devotion to the

intricacies, perhaps even more than to the orthodox and easily recognisable beauties, of musical

science. I had learned, too, the very remarkable fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-

honored as it was, had put forth, at no period, any enduring branch; in other words, that the entire

family lay in the direct line of descent, and had always, with very trifling and very temporary

variation, so lain. It was this deficiency, I considered, while running over in thought the perfect

keeping of the character of the premises with the accredited character of the people, and while

speculating upon the possible influence which the one, in the long lapse of centuries, might have

exercised upon the other - it was this deficiency, perhaps, of collateral issue, and the consequent

undeviating transmission, from sire to son, of the patrimony with the name, which had, at length,

so identified the two as to merge the original title of the estate in the quaint and equivocal

appellation of the "House of Usher" - an appellation which seemed to include, in the minds of the

peasantry who used it, both the family and the family mansion.

I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment - that of looking

down within the tarn - had been to deepen the first singular impression. There can be no doubt

that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition - for why should I not so term it ?

- served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, I have long known, is the paradoxical law

of all sentiments having terror as a basis. And it might have been for this reason only, that, when

I again uplifted my eyes to the house itself, from its image in the pool, there grew in my mind a

strange fancy - a fancy so ridiculous, indeed, that I but mention it to show the vivid force of the

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sensations which oppressed me. I had so worked upon my imagination as really to believe that

about the whole mansion and domain there hung an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their

immediate vicinity - an atmosphere which had no affinity with the air of heaven, but which had

reeked up from the decayed trees, and the gray wall, and the silent tarn - a pestilent and mystic

vapor, dull, sluggish, faintly discernible, and leaden-hued.

Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowly the

real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. The

discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a

fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation.

No portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between its

still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there

was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long

years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond

this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the

eye of a scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which,

extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag

direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.

Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. A servant in waiting

took my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence

conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studio

of his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I know not how, to heighten the

vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the objects around me - while the

carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and

the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as I strode, were but matters to which, or to

such as which, I had been accustomed from my infancy - while I hesitated not to acknowledge

how familiar was all this - I still wondered to find how unfamiliar were the fancies which

ordinary images were stirring up. On one of the staircases, I met the physician of the family. His

countenance, I thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted

me with trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the

presence of his master.

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The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty. The windows were long,

narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor as to be altogether

inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through the

trellissed panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the more prominent objects around; the

eye, however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the chamber, or the recesses of the

vaulted and fretted ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the walls. The general furniture was

profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many books and musical instruments lay scattered

about, but failed to give any vitality to the scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.

An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung over and pervaded all.

Upon my entrance, Usher arose from a sofa on which he had been lying at full length,

and greeted me with a vivacious warmth which had much in it, I at first thought, of an overdone

cordiality - of the constrained effort of the ennuié ; man of the world. A glance, however, at his

countenance, convinced me of his perfect sincerity. We sat down ; and for some moments, while

he spoke not, I gazed upon him with a feeling half of pity, half of awe. Surely, man had never

before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had Roderick Usher ! It was with difficulty that

I could bring myself to admit the identity of the wan being before me with the companion of my

early boyhood. Yet the character of his face had been at all times remarkable. A cadaverousness

of complexion ; an eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison ; lips somewhat thin and

very pallid, but of a surpassingly beautiful curve ; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a

breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations ; a finely moulded chin, speaking, in its want of

prominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity ; these

features, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple, made up altogether a

countenance not easily to be forgotten. And now in the mere exaggeration of the prevailing

character of these features, and of the expression they were wont to convey, lay so much of

change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly pallor of the skin, and the now

miraculous lustre of the eye, above all things startled and even awed me. The silken hair, too,

had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floated rather than

fell about the face, I could not, even with effort, connect its Arabesque expression with any idea

of simple humanity.

In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an incoherence - an inconsistency;

and I soon found this to arise from a series of feeble and futile struggles to overcome an habitual

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trepidancy - an excessive nervous agitation. For something of this nature I had indeed been

prepared, no less by his letter, than by reminiscences of certain boyish traits, and by conclusions

deduced from his peculiar physical conformation and temperament. His action was alternately

vivacious and sullen. His voice varied rapidly from a tremulous indecision (when the animal

spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to that species of energetic concision - that abrupt, weighty,

unhurried, and hollow-sounding enunciation - that leaden, self-balanced and perfectly modulated

guttural utterance, which may be observed in the lost drunkard, or the irreclaimable eater of

opium, during the periods of his most intense excitement.

It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnest desire to see me, and of

the solace he expected me to afford him. He entered, at some length, into what he conceived to

be the nature of his malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and a family evil, and one for which

he despaired to find a remedy - a mere nervous affection, he immediately added, which would

undoubtedly soon pass off. It displayed itself in a host of unnatural sensations. Some of these, as

he detailed them, interested and bewildered me ; although, perhaps, the terms, and the general

manner of the narration had their weight. He suffered much from a morbid acuteness of the

senses ; the most insipid food was alone endurable; he could wear only garments of certain

texture ; the odors of all flowers were oppressive ; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light ;

and there were but peculiar sounds, and these from stringed instruments, which did not inspire

him with horror.

To an anomalous species of terror I found him a bounden slave. "I shall perish," said he,

"I must perish in this deplorable folly. Thus, thus, and not otherwise, shall I be lost. I dread the

events of the future, not in themselves, but in their results. I shudder at the thought of any, even

the most trivial, incident, which may operate upon this intolerable agitation of soul. I have,

indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror. In this unnerved - in this

pitiable condition - I feel that the period will sooner or later arrive when I must abandon life and

reason together, in some struggle with the grim phantasm, FEAR."

I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through broken and equivocal hints, another

singular feature of his mental condition. He was enchained by certain superstitious impressions

in regard to the dwelling which he tenanted, and whence, for many years, he had never ventured

forth - in regard to an influence whose supposititious force was conveyed in terms too shadowy

here to be re-stated - an influence which some peculiarities in the mere form and substance of his

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family mansion, had, by dint of long sufferance, he said, obtained over his spirit - an effect

which the physique of the gray walls and turrets, and of the dim tarn into which they all looked

down, had, at length, brought about upon the morale of his existence.

He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloom which

thus afflicted him could be traced to a more natural and far more palpable origin - to the severe

and long-continued illness - indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution - of a tenderly

beloved sister - his sole companion for long years - his last and only relative on earth. "Her

decease," he said, with a bitterness which I can never forget, "would leave him (him the hopeless

and the frail) the last of the ancient race of the Ushers." While he spoke, the lady Madeline (for

so was she called) passed slowly through a remote portion of the apartment, and, without having

noticed my presence, disappeared. I regarded her with an utter astonishment not unmingled with

dread - and yet I found it impossible to account for such feelings. A sensation of stupor

oppressed me, as my eyes followed her retreating steps. When a door, at length, closed upon her,

my glance sought instinctively and eagerly the countenance of the brother - but he had buried his

face in his hands, and I could only perceive that a far more than ordinary wanness had

overspread the emaciated fingers through which trickled many passionate tears.

The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of her physicians. A settled

apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person, and frequent although transient affections of a

partially cataleptical character, were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto she had steadily borne up

against the pressure of her malady, and had not betaken herself finally to bed ; but, on the closing

in of the evening of my arrival at the house, she succumbed (as her brother told me at night with

inexpressible agitation) to the prostrating power of the destroyer; and I learned that the glimpse I

had obtained of her person would thus probably be the last I should obtain - that the lady, at least

while living, would be seen by me no more.

For several days ensuing, her name was unmentioned by either Usher or myself: and

during this period I was busied in earnest endeavors to alleviate the melancholy of my friend. We

painted and read together; or I listened, as if in a dream, to the wild improvisations of his

speaking guitar. And thus, as a closer and still closer intimacy admitted me more unreservedly

into the recesses of his spirit, the more bitterly did I perceive the futility of all attempt at cheering

a mind from which darkness, as if an inherent positive quality, poured forth upon all objects of

the moral and physical universe, in one unceasing radiation of gloom.

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I shall ever bear about me a memory of the many solemn hours I thus spent alone with

the master of the House of Usher. Yet I should fail in any attempt to convey an idea of the exact

character of the studies, or of the occupations, in which he involved me, or led me the way. An

excited and highly distempered ideality threw a sulphureous lustre over all. His long improvised

dirges will ring forever in my ears. Among other things, I hold painfully in mind a certain

singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von Weber. From the

paintings over which his elaborate fancy brooded, and which grew, touch by touch, into

vaguenesses at which I shuddered the more thrillingly, because I shuddered knowing not why; -

from these paintings (vivid as their images now are before me) I would in vain endeavor to educe

more than a small portion which should lie within the compass of merely written words. By the

utter simplicity, by the nakedness of his designs, he arrested and overawed attention. If ever

mortal painted an idea, that mortal was Roderick Usher. For me at least - in the circumstances

then surrounding me - there arose out of the pure abstractions which the hypochondriac contrived

to throw upon his canvass, an intensity of intolerable awe, no shadow of which felt I ever yet in

the contemplation of the certainly glowing yet too concrete reveries of Fuseli.

One of the phantasmagoric conceptions of my friend, partaking not so rigidly of the spirit

of abstraction, may be shadowed forth, although feebly, in words. A small picture presented the

interior of an immensely long and rectangular vault or tunnel, with low walls, smooth, white, and

without interruption or device. Certain accessory points of the design served well to convey the

idea that this excavation lay at an exceeding depth below the surface of the earth. No outlet was

observed in any portion of its vast extent, and no torch, or other artificial source of light was

discernible; yet a flood of intense rays rolled throughout, and bathed the whole in a ghastly and

inappropriate splendor.

I have just spoken of that morbid condition of the auditory nerve which rendered all music

intolerable to the sufferer, with the exception of certain effects of stringed instruments. It was,

perhaps, the narrow limits to which he thus confined himself upon the guitar, which gave birth,

in great measure, to the fantastic character of his performances. But the fervid facility of his

impromptus could not be so accounted for. They must have been, and were, in the notes, as well

as in the words of his wild fantasias (for he not unfrequently accompanied himself with rhymed

verbal improvisations), the result of that intense mental collectedness and concentration to which

I have previously alluded as observable only in particular moments of the highest artificial

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excitement. The words of one of these rhapsodies I have easily remembered. I was, perhaps, the

more forcibly impressed with it, as he gave it, because, in the under or mystic current of its

meaning, I fancied that I perceived, and for the first time, a full consciousness on the part of

Usher, of the tottering of his lofty reason upon her throne. The verses, which were entitled "The

Haunted Palace," ran very nearly, if not accurately, thus:

I. In the greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace - Radiant palace - reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion - It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair. II. Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow; (This - all this - was in the olden Time long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away. III. Wanderers in that happy valley Through two luminous windows saw Spirits moving musically To a lute's well-tunéd law, Round about a throne, where sitting (Porphyrogene!) In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen.

IV. And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, And sparkling evermore, A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king. V. But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him, desolate!) And, round about his home, the glory That blushed and bloomed Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed. VI. And travellers now within that valley, Through the red-litten windows, see Vast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody; While, like a rapid ghastly river, Through the pale door, A hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh - but smile no more.

I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad, led us into a train of thought

wherein there became manifest an opinion of Usher's which I mention not so much on account of

its novelty, (for other men have thought thus,) as on account of the pertinacity with which he

maintained it. This opinion, in its general form, was that of the sentience of all vegetable things.

But, in his disordered fancy, the idea had assumed a more daring character, and trespassed, under

certain conditions, upon the kingdom of inorganization. I lack words to express the full extent, or

the earnest abandon of his persuasion. The belief, however, was connected (as I have previously

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hinted) with the gray stones of the home of his forefathers. The conditions of the sentience had

been here, he imagined, fulfilled in the method of collocation of these stones - in the order of

their arrangement, as well as in that of the many fungi which overspread them, and of the

decayed trees which stood around - above all, in the long undisturbed endurance of this

arrangement, and in its reduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its evidence - the evidence of

the sentience - was to be seen, he said, (and I here started as he spoke,) in the gradual yet certain

condensation of an atmosphere of their own about the waters and the walls. The result was

discoverable, he added, in that silent, yet importunate and terrible influence which for centuries

had moulded the destinies of his family, and which made him what I now saw him - what he

was. Such opinions need no comment, and I will make none.

Our books - the books which, for years, had formed no small portion of the mental existence

of the invalid - were, as might be supposed, in strict keeping with this character of phantasm. We

pored together over such works as the Ververt et Chartreuse of Gresset; the Belphegor of

Machiavelli; the Heaven and Hell of Swedenborg; the Subterranean Voyage of Nicholas Klimm

by Holberg; the Chiromancy of Robert Flud, of Jean D'Indaginé, and of De la Chambre; the

Journey into the Blue Distance of Tieck; and the City of the Sun of Campanella. One favorite

volume was a small octavo edition of the Directorium Inquisitorium, by the Dominican Eymeric

de Gironne; and there were passages in Pomponius Mela, about the old African Satyrs and

Oegipans, over which Usher would sit dreaming for hours. His chief delight, however, was found

in the perusal of an exceedingly rare and curious book in quarto Gothic - the manual of a

forgotten church - the Vigiliae Mortuorum secundum Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae.

I could not help thinking of the wild ritual of this work, and of its probable influence upon

the hypochondriac, when, one evening, having informed me abruptly that the lady Madeline was

no more, he stated his intention of preserving her corpse for a fortnight, (previously to its final

interment,) in one of the numerous vaults within the main walls of the building. The worldly

reason, however, assigned for this singular proceeding, was one which I did not feel at liberty to

dispute. The brother had been led to his resolution (so he told me) by consideration of the

unusual character of the malady of the deceased, of certain obtrusive and eager inquiries on the

part of her medical men, and of the remote and exposed situation of the burial-ground of the

family. I will not deny that when I called to mind the sinister countenance of the person whom I

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met upon the staircase, on the day of my arrival at the house, I had no desire to oppose what I

regarded as at best but a harmless, and by no means an unnatural, precaution.

At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in the arrangements for the temporary

entombment. The body having been encoffined, we two alone bore it to its rest. The vault in

which we placed it (and which had been so long unopened that our torches, half smothered in its

oppressive atmosphere, gave us little opportunity for investigation) was small, damp, and

entirely without means of admission for light; lying, at great depth, immediately beneath that

portion of the building in which was my own sleeping apartment. It had been used, apparently, in

remote feudal times, for the worst purposes of a donjon-keep, and, in later days, as a place of

deposit for powder, or some other highly combustible substance, as a portion of its floor, and the

whole interior of a long archway through which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with

copper. The door, of massive iron, had been, also, similarly protected. Its immense weight

caused an unusually sharp grating sound, as it moved upon its hinges.

Having deposited our mournful burden upon tressels within this region of horror, we

partially turned aside the yet unscrewed lid of the coffin and looked upon the face of the tenant.

A striking similitude between the brother and sister now first arrested my attention; and Usher,

divining, perhaps, my thoughts, murmured out some few words from which I learned that the

deceased and himself had been twins, and that sympathies of a scarcely intelligible nature had

always existed between them. Our glances, however, rested not long upon the dead - for we

could not regard her unawed. The disease which had thus entombed the lady in the maturity of

youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a strictly cataleptical character, the mockery of a faint

blush upon the bosom and the face, and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so

terrible in death. We replaced and screwed down the lid, and, having secured the door of iron,

made our way, with toil, into the scarcely less gloomy apartments of the upper portion of the

house.

And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed, an observable change came over the

features of the mental disorder of my friend. His ordinary manner had vanished. His ordinary

occupations were neglected or forgotten. He roamed from chamber to chamber with hurried,

unequal, and objectless step. The pallor of his countenance had assumed, if possible, a more

ghastly hue - but the luminousness of his eye had utterly gone out. The once occasional

huskiness of his tone was heard no more; and a tremulous quaver, as if of extreme terror,

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habitually characterized his utterance. There were times, indeed, when I thought his unceasingly

agitated mind was laboring with some oppressive secret, to divulge which he struggled for the

necessary courage. At times, again, I was obliged to resolve all into the mere inexplicable

vagaries of madness, for I beheld him gazing upon vacancy for long hours, in an attitude of the

profoundest attention, as if listening to some imaginary sound. It was no wonder that his

condition terrified - that it infected me. I felt creeping upon me, by slow yet certain degrees, the

wild influences of his own fantastic yet impressive superstitions.

It was, especially, upon retiring to bed late in the night of the seventh or eighth day after

the placing of the lady Madeline within the donjon, that I experienced the full power of such

feelings. Sleep came not near my couch - while the hours waned and waned away. I struggled to

reason off the nervousness which had dominion over me. I endeavored to believe that much, if

not all of what I felt, was due to the bewildering influence of the gloomy furniture of the room -

of the dark and tattered draperies, which, tortured into motion by the breath of a rising tempest,

swayed fitfully to and fro upon the walls, and rustled uneasily about the decorations of the bed.

But my efforts were fruitless. An irrepressible tremor gradually pervaded my frame; and, at

length, there sat upon my very heart an incubus of utterly causeless alarm. Shaking this off with

a gasp and a struggle, I uplifted myself upon the pillows, and, peering earnestly within the

intense darkness of the chamber, harkened - I know not why, except that an instinctive spirit

prompted me - to certain low and indefinite sounds which came, through the pauses of the storm,

at long intervals, I knew not whence. Overpowered by an intense sentiment of horror,

unaccountable yet unendurable, I threw on my clothes with haste (for I felt that I should sleep no

more during the night), and endeavored to arouse myself from the pitiable condition into which I

had fallen, by pacing rapidly to and fro through the apartment.

I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step on an adjoining staircase

arrested my attention. I presently recognised it as that of Usher. In an instant afterward he

rapped, with a gentle touch, at my door, and entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance was, as

usual, cadaverously wan - but, moreover, there was a species of mad hilarity in his eyes - an

evidently restrained hysteria in his whole demeanor. His air appalled me - but anything was

preferable to the solitude which I had so long endured, and I even welcomed his presence as a

relief.

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"And you have not seen it?" he said abruptly, after having stared about him for some

moments in silence - "you have not then seen it? - but, stay! you shall." Thus speaking, and

having carefully shaded his lamp, he hurried to one of the casements, and threw it freely open to

the storm.

The impetuous fury of the entering gust nearly lifted us from our feet. It was, indeed, a

tempestuous yet sternly beautiful night, and one wildly singular in its terror and its beauty. A

whirlwind had apparently collected its force in our vicinity; for there were frequent and violent

alterations in the direction of the wind; and the exceeding density of the clouds (which hung so

low as to press upon the turrets of the house) did not prevent our perceiving the life-like velocity

with which they flew careering from all points against each other, without passing away into the

distance. I say that even their exceeding density did not prevent our perceiving this - yet we had

no glimpse of the moon or stars - nor was there any flashing forth of the lightning. But the under

surfaces of the huge masses of agitated vapor, as well as all terrestrial objects immediately

around us, were glowing in the unnatural light of a faintly luminous and distinctly visible

gaseous exhalation which hung about and enshrouded the mansion.

"You must not - you shall not behold this!" said I, shudderingly, to Usher, as I led him,

with a gentle violence, from the window to a seat. "These appearances, which bewilder you, are

merely electrical phenomena not uncommon - or it may be that they have their ghastly origin in

the rank miasma of the tarn. Let us close this casement; - the air is chilling and dangerous to your

frame. Here is one of your favorite romances. I will read, and you shall listen; - and so we will

pass away this terrible night together."

The antique volume which I had taken up was the "Mad Trist" of Sir Launcelot Canning;

but I had called it a favorite of Usher's more in sad jest than in earnest; for, in truth, there is little

in its uncouth and unimaginative prolixity which could have had interest for the lofty and

spiritual ideality of my friend. It was, however, the only book immediately at hand; and I

indulged a vague hope that the excitement which now agitated the hypochondriac, might find

relief (for the history of mental disorder is full of similar anomalies) even in the extremeness of

the folly which I should read. Could I have judged, indeed, by the wild overstrained air of

vivacity with which he harkened, or apparently harkened, to the words of the tale, I might well

have congratulated myself upon the success of my design.

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I had arrived at that well-known portion of the story where Ethelred, the hero of the Trist,

having sought in vain for peaceable admission into the dwelling of the hermit, proceeds to make

good an entrance by force. Here, it will be remembered, the words of the narrative run thus:

"And Ethelred, who was by nature of a doughty heart, and who was now mighty withal,

on account of the powerfulness of the wine which he had drunken, waited no longer to hold

parley with the hermit, who, in sooth, was of an obstinate and maliceful turn, but, feeling the rain

upon his shoulders, and fearing the rising of the tempest, uplifted his mace outright, and, with

blows, made quickly room in the plankings of the door for his gauntleted hand ; and now pulling

therewith sturdily, he so cracked, and ripped, and tore all asunder, that the noise of the dry and

hollow-sounding wood alarummed and reverberated throughout the forest."

At the termination of this sentence I started, and for a moment, paused ; for it appeared to

me (although I at once concluded that my excited fancy had deceived me) - it appeared to me

that, from some very remote portion of the mansion, there came, indistinctly, to my ears, what

might have been, in its exact similarity of character, the echo (but a stifled and dull one certainly)

of the very cracking and ripping sound which Sir Launcelot had so particularly described. It was,

beyond doubt, the coincidence alone which had arrested my attention; for, amid the rattling of

the sashes of the casements, and the ordinary commingled noises of the still increasing storm, the

sound, in itself, had nothing, surely, which should have interested or disturbed me. I continued

the story:

"But the good champion Ethelred, now entering within the door, was sore enraged and

amazed to perceive no signal of the maliceful hermit; but, in the stead thereof, a dragon of a

scaly and prodigious demeanor, and of a fiery tongue, which sate in guard before a palace of

gold, with a floor of silver; and upon the wall there hung a shield of shining brass with this

legend enwritten -

Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin; Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win;

And Ethelred uplifted his mace, and struck upon the head of the dragon, which fell before

him, and gave up his pesty breath, with a shriek so horrid and harsh, and withal so piercing, that

Ethelred had fain to close his ears with his hands against the dreadful noise of it, the like whereof

was never before heard."

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Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wild amazement - for there could

be no doubt whatever that, in this instance, I did actually hear (although from what direction it

proceeded I found it impossible to say) a low and apparently distant, but harsh, protracted, and

most unusual screaming or grating sound - the exact counterpart of what my fancy had already

conjured up for the dragon's unnatural shriek as described by the romancer.

Oppressed, as I certainly was, upon the occurrence of this second and most extraordinary

coincidence, by a thousand conflicting sensations, in which wonder and extreme terror were

predominant, I still retained sufficient presence of mind to avoid exciting, by any observation,

the sensitive nervousness of my companion. I was by no means certain that he had noticed the

sounds in question ; although, assuredly, a strange alteration had, during the last few minutes,

taken place in his demeanor. From a position fronting my own, he had gradually brought round

his chair, so as to sit with his face to the door of the chamber ; and thus I could but partially

perceive his features, although I saw that his lips trembled as if he were murmuring inaudibly.

His head had dropped upon his breast - yet I knew that he was not asleep, from the wide and

rigid opening of the eye as I caught a glance of it in profile. The motion of his body, too, was at

variance with this idea - for he rocked from side to side with a gentle yet constant and uniform

sway. Having rapidly taken notice of all this, I resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which

thus proceeded:

"And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of the dragon, bethinking

himself of the brazen shield, and of the breaking up of the enchantment which was upon it,

removed the carcass from out of the way before him, and approached valorously over the silver

pavement of the castle to where the shield was upon the wall ; which in sooth tarried not for his

full coming, but fell down at his feet upon the silver floor, with a mighty great and terrible

ringing sound."

No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than - as if a shield of brass had indeed, at

the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor of silver - I became aware of a distinct, hollow, metallic,

and clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation. Completely unnerved, I leaped to my feet ;

but the measured rocking movement of Usher was undisturbed. I rushed to the chair in which he

sat. His eyes were bent fixedly before him, and throughout his whole countenance there reigned

a stony rigidity. But, as I placed my hand upon his shoulder, there came a strong shudder over

his whole person ; a sickly smile quivered about his lips ; and I saw that he spoke in a low,

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hurried, and gibbering murmur, as if unconscious of my presence. Bending closely over him, I at

length drank in the hideous import of his words.

"Not hear it? - yes, I hear it, and have heard it. Long - long - long - many minutes, many

hours, many days, have I heard it - yet I dared not - oh, pity me, miserable wretch that I am! - I

dared not - I dared not speak! We have put her living in the tomb! Said I not that my senses were

acute? I now tell you that I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow coffin. I heard them -

many, many days ago - yet I dared not - I dared not speak! And now - to-night - Ethelred - ha! ha

! - the breaking of the hermit's door, and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangor of the

shield ! - say, rather, the rending of her coffin, and the grating of the iron hinges of her prison,

and her struggles within the coppered archway of the vault ! Oh whither shall I fly ? Will she not

be here anon? Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste ? Have I not heard her footstep on

the stair? Do I not distinguish that heavy and horrible beating of her heart? Madman!" - here he

sprang furiously to his feet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the effort he were giving up

his soul - " Madman ! I tell you that she now stands without the door! "

As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had been found the potency of a

spell - the huge antique panels to which the speaker pointed, threw slowly back, upon the instant,

their ponderous and ebony jaws. It was the work of the rushing gust - but then without those

doors there did stand the lofty and enshrouded figure of the lady Madeline of Usher. There was

blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her

emaciated frame. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to and fro upon the threshold

- then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her

violent and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he

had anticipated.

From that chamber, and from that mansion, I fled aghast. The storm was still abroad in all

its wrath as I found myself crossing the old causeway. Suddenly there shot along the path a wild

light, and I turned to see whence a gleam so unusual could have issued; for the vast house and its

shadows were alone behind me. The radiance was that of the full, setting, and blood-red moon,

which now shone vividly through that once barely-discernible fissure, of which I have before

spoken as extending from the roof of the building, in a zigzag direction, to the base. While I

gazed, this fissure rapidly widened - there came a fierce breath of the whirlwind - the entire orb

of the satellite burst at once upon my sight - my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing

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asunder - there was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters - and

the deep and dank tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the "House

of Usher."

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Mary Reynolds, Slave Narrative Dallas, Texas circa 1838

Mary Reynolds claims to be more than a hundred years old. She was born in slavery to the Kilpatrick family, in Black River, Louisiana. Mary now lives at the Dallas County Convalescent Home. She has been blind for five years and is very feeble.

"My paw's name was Tom Vaughn and he was from the north, born free man and lived and died free to the end of his days. He wasn't no eddicated man, but he was what he calls himself a piano man. He told me once he lived in New York and Chicago and he built the insides of pianos and knew how to make them play in tune. He said some white folks from the south told he if he'd come with them to the south he'd find a lot of work to do with pianos in them parts, and he come off with them.

"He saw my maw on the Kilpatrick place and her man was dead. He told Dr. Kilpatrick, my massa, he'd buy my maw and her three chillun with all the money he had, iffen he'd sell her. But Dr. Kilpatrick was never one to sell any but the old niggers who was part

workin' in the fields and past their breedin' times. So my paw marries my maw and works the fields, same as any other nigger. They had six gals: Martha and Pamela and Josephine and Ellen and Katherine and me.

"I was born same time as Miss Sara Kilpatrick. Dr. Kilpatrick's first wife and my maw come to their time right together. Miss Sara's maw died and they brung Miss Sara to suck with me. It's a thing we ain't never forgot. My maw's name was Sallie and Miss Sara allus looked with kindness on my maw.

[end p. 236]

We sucked till we was a fair size and played together, which wasn't no common thing. None the other li'l niggers played with the white chillun. But Miss Sara loved me so good.

"I was jus' bout big nough to start playin' with a broom to go bout sweepin' up and not even half doin' it when Dr. Kilpatrick sold me. They was a old white man in Trinity and his wife died and he didn't have chick or child or slave or nothin'. Massa sold me cheap, cause he didn't want Miss Sara to play with no nigger young'un. That old man bought me a big doll and went off and left me all day, with the door open. I jus' sot on the floor and played with that doll. I used to cry. He'd come home and give me somethin' to eat and then go to bed, and I slep' on the foot of the bed with him. I was scart all the time in the dark. He never did close the door.

"Miss Sara pined and sickened. Massa done what he could, but they wasn't no peartness in her. She got sicker and sicker, and massa brung nother doctor. He say, You li'l gal is grievin' the life out her body and she sho' gwine die iffen you don't do somethin' bout it.' Miss Sara says over and

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over, I wants Mary.' Massa say to the doctor, That a li'l nigger young'un I done sold.' The doctor tells him he better git me back iffen he wants to save the life of his child. Dr. Kilpatrick has to give a big plenty more to git me back than what he sold me for, but Miss Sara plumps up right off and grows into fine health.

"Then massa marries a rich lady from Mississippi and they has chillun for company to Miss Sara and seem like for a time she forgits me.

[end p. 237]

"Massa Kilpatrick wasn't no piddlin' man. He was a man of plenty. He had a big house with no more style to it than a crib, but it could room plenty people. He was a medicine doctor and they was rooms in the second story for sick folks what come to lay in. It would take two days to go all over the land he owned. He had cattle and stock and sheep and more'n a hundred slaves and more besides. He bought the bes' of niggers near every time the spec'lators come that way. He'd make a swap of the old ones and give money for young ones what could work.

"He raised corn and cotton and cane and taters and goobers, sides the peas and other feedin' for the niggers. I member I helt a hoe handle mighty onsteady when they put a old women to larn me and some other chillun to scrape the fields. That old woman would be in a frantic. She'd show me and then turn bout to show some other li'l nigger, and I'd have the young corn cut clean as the grass. She say, For the love of Gawd, you better larn it right, or Solomon will beat the breath out you body.' Old man Solomon was the nigger driver.

"Slavery was the worst days was ever seed in the world. They was things past tellin', but I got the scars on my old body to show to this day. I seed worse than what happened to me. I seed them put the men and women in the stock with they hands screwed down through holes in the board and they feets tied together and they naked behinds to the world. Solomon the the [sic] overseer beat them with a big whip and massa look on. The niggers better not stop in the fields when they hear them yellin'. They cut the flesh most to the bones and some they was when they taken them out of stock and put them on the beds, they never got up again.

[end p. 238]

"When a nigger died they let his folks come out the fields to see him afore he died. They buried him the same day, take a big plank and bust it with a ax in the middle nough to bend it back, and put the dead nigger in betwixt it. They'd cart them down to the graveyard on the place and not bury them deep nough that buzzards wouldn't come circlin' round. Niggers mourns now, but in them days they wasn't no time for mournin'.

"The conch shell blowed afore daylight and all hands better git out for roll call or Solomon bust the door down and get them out. It was work hard, git beatin's and half fed. They brung the victuals and water to the fields on a slide pulled by a old mule. Plenty times they was only a half barrel water and it stale and hot, for all us niggers on the hottes' days. Mostly we ate pickled pork and corn bread and peas and beans and taters. They never was as much as we needed.

"The times I hated most was pickin' cotton when the frost was on the bolls. My hands git sore and crack open and bleed. We'd have a li'l fire in the fields and iffen the ones with tender hands couldn't stand it no longer, we'd run and warm our hands a li'l bit. When I could steal a tater, I used to slip it in the ashes and when I'd run to the fire I'd take it out and eat it on the sly.

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"In the cabins it was nice and warm. They was built of pine boardin' and they was one long rom of them up the hill back of the big house. Near one side of the cabins was a fireplace. They'd bring in two, three big logs and put on the fire and they'd last near a week. The beds was made out of puncheons fitted on holes bored in the wall, and planks laid cross them poles. We had tickin' mattresses filled with corn shucks. Sometimes the men build chairs at night. We didn't know much bout havin' nothin', though.

[end p. 239]

"Sometimes massa let niggers have a li'l patch. They'd raise taters or goobers. They liked to have them to help fill out on the victuals. Taters roasted in the ashes was the best tastin' eatin' I ever had. I could die better satisfied to have jus' one more tater roasted in hot ashes. The niggers had to work the patches at night and dig the taters and goobers at night. Then if they wanted to sell any in town they'd have to git a pass to go. They had to go at night, cause they couldn't ever spare a hand from the fields.

"Once in a while they's give us a li'l piece of Sat'day evenin' to wash out clothes in the branch. We hanged them on the ground in the woods to dry. They was a place to wash clothes from the well, but they was so many niggers all couldn't get round to it on Sundays. When they'd git through with the clothes on Sat'day evenin's the niggers which sold they goobers and taters brung fiddles and guitars and come out and play. The others clap they hands and stomp they feet and we young'uns cut a step round. I was plenty biggity and like to cut a step.

"We was scart of Solomon and his whip, though, and he didn't like frolickin'. He didn't like for us niggers to pray, either. We never heared of no church, but us have prayin' in the cabins. We'd set on the floor and pray with our heads down low and sing low, but if Solomon heared he'd come and beat on the wall with the stock of his whip. He'd say, I'll come in there and tear the hide off you backs.' But some the old niggers tell us we got to pray to Gawd that he don't think different of the blacks and the whites. I know that Solomon is burnin' in hell today, and it pleasures me to know it.

"Once my maw and paw taken me and Katherine after night to slip to nother place to a prayin' and singin'. A nigger man with white beard told us a day am comin' when niggers only be slaves of Gawd.

[end p. 240]

We prays for the end of Trib'lation and the end of beatin's and for shoes that fit our feet. We prayed that us niggers could have all we wanted to eat and special for fresh meat. Some the old ones say we have to bear all, cause that all we can do. Some say they was glad to the time they's dead, cause they'd rather rot in the ground than have the beatin's. What I hated most was when they'd beat me and I didn't know what they beat me for, and I hated they strippin' me naked as the day I was born.

"When we's comin' back from that prayin', I thunk I heared the nigger dogs and somebody on horseback. I say, Maw, its them nigger hounds and they'll eat us up.' You could hear them old hounds (censored) abayin'. Maw listens and say, Sho nough, them dogs am running' and Gawd help us!' Then she and paw talk and they take us to a fence corner and stands us up gainst the rails and say don't move and if anyone comes near, don't breathe loud. They went to the woods, so the hounds chase them and not git us. Me and Katherine stand there, holdin' hands, shakin' so

108

we can hardly stand. We hears the hounds come nearer, but we don't move. They goes after paw and maw, but they circles round to the cabins and gits in. Maw say its the power of Gawd.

"In them days I weared shirts, like all the young'uns. They had collars and come below the knees and was split up the sides. That's all we weared in hot weather. The men weared jeans and women gingham. Shoes was the worstes' trouble. We weared rough russets when it got cold, and it seem powerful strange they'd never git them to fit. Once when I was a young gal, they got me a new pair and all brass studs in the toes. They was too li'l for me, but I had to wear them. The trimmin's cut into my ankles and them places got mis'ble

[end p. 241]

bad. I rubs tallow in them sore places and wrops rags around them and my sores got worser and worser. The scars are there to this day.

"I wasn't sick much, though. Some the niggers had chills and fever a lot, but they hadn't discovered so many diseases then as now. Dr. Kilpatrick give sick niggers ipecac and asafoetide and oil and turpentine and black fever pills.

"They was a cabin called the spinnin' house and two looms and two spinnin' wheels goin' all the time, and two nigger women sewing all the time. It took plenty sewin' to make all the things for a place so big. Once massa goes to Baton Rouge and brung back a yaller girl dressed in fine style. She was a seamster nigger. He builds her a house way from the quarters and she done fine sewin' for the whites. Us niggers knowed the doctor took a black woman quick as he did a white and took any on his place he wanted, and he took them often. But mostly the chillun born on the place looked like niggers. Aunt Cheyney allus say four of hers were massas, but he didn't give them no mind. But this yaller gal breeds so fast and gits a mess of white young'uns. She larnt them fine manners and combs out they hair.

"Onct two of them goes down the hill to the doll house where the Kilpatrick chillun am playin'. They wants to go in the dollhouse and one the Kilpatrick boys say, That's for white chillun.' They say, "We ain't no niggers, cause we got the same daddy you has, and he comes to see us near every day and fotches us clothes and things from town.' They is fussin' and Missy Kilpatrick is listenin' out her chamber window. She heard them white niggers say, He is our daddy and we call him daddy when he comes to our house to see our mama.'

[end p. 242]

"When massa come home that evenin' his wife hardly say nothin' to him, and he ask her what the matter and she tells him, Since you asks me, I'm studyin' in my mind bout them white young'uns of that yaller nigger wench from Baton Rouge. He say, Now, honey, I fotches that gal jus' for you, cause she a fine seamster.' She say, It look kind of funny they got the same kind of hair and eyes as my chillun and they got a nose looks like yours.' He say, Honey, you jus' payin' tention to talk of li'l chillun that ain't got no mind to what they say.' She say, Over in Mississippi I got a home and plenty with my daddy and I got that in my mind.'

"Well, she didn't never leave and massa bought her a fine new span of surrey hosses. But she don't never have no more chillun and she ain't so cordial with the massa. Margaret, that yallow gal, has more white young'uns, but they don't never go down the hill no more to the big house.

"Aunt Cheyney was jus' out of bed with a sucklin' baby one time, and she run away. Some say

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that was nother baby of massa's breedin'. She dont' come to the house to nurse her baby, so they misses her and old Solomon gits the nigger hounds and takes her trail. They gits near her and she grabs a limb and tries to hist herself in a tree, but them dogs grab her and pull her down. The men hollers them onto her, and the dogs tore her naked and et the breasts plumb off her body. She got well and lived to be a old woman, but nother woman has to suck her baby and she ain't got no sign of breasts no more.

"They give all the niggers fresh meat on Christmas and a plug tobacco all round. The highes' cotton picker gits a suit of clothes and all the women what had twins that year gits a outfittin' of clothes for the twins and a double, warm blanket.

[end p. 16]

"Seems like after I got bigger, I member' more'n more niggers run away. They's most allus cotched. Massa used to hire out his niggers for wage hands. One time he hired me and a nigger boy, Turner, to work for some ornery white trash name of Kidd. One day Turner goes off and don't come back. Old man Kidd say I knowed bout it, and he tied my wrists together and stripped me. He hanged me by the wrists from a limb on a tree. (censored) Then he beat me. He beat me worser than I ever been beat before and I faints dead away. When I come to I'm in bed. I didn't care so much iffen I died.

"I didn't know bout the passin of time, but Miss Sara come to me. Some white folks done git word to her. Mr. Kidd tries to talk hisself out of it, but Miss Sara fotches me home when I'm well enough to move. She took me in a cart and my maw takes care of me. Massa looks me over good and says I'll git well, but I'm ruint for breedin' chillun.

"After while I taken a notion to marry and massa and missy marries us same as all the niggers. They stands inside the house with a broom held crosswise of the door and we stands outside. Missy puts a li'l wreath on my head they kept there and we steps over the broom into the house. Now, that's all they was to the marryin'. After freedom I gits married and has it put in the book by a preacher.

"One day we was workin' in the fields and hears the conch shell blow, so we all goes to the back gate of the big house. Massa am there. He say, Call the roll for every nigger big nough to walk, and I wants them to go to the river and wait there. They's gwine be a show and I wants you to see it.' They was a big boat down there, done built up on the sides with boards and holes in the boards and

[end p. 16]

a bit gun barrel stickin' through every hole. We ain't never seed nothin' like that. Massa goes up the plank onto the boat and comes out on the boat porch. He say, This am a Yankee boat." He goes inside and the water wheels starts movin' and that boat goes movin' up the river and they says it goes to Natches.

"The boat wasn't more'n out of sight when a big drove of sojers comes into town. They say they's Fed'rals. More'n half the niggers goes off with them sojers, but I goes on back home cause of my old mammy.

"Next day them Yankees is swarmin' the place. Some the niggers wants to show them somethin'. I follows to the woods. The niggers shows them sojers a big pit in the ground, bigger'n a big

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house. It is got wooden doors that lifts up, but the top am sodded and grass growin' on it, so you couldn't tell it. In that pit is stock, hosses and cows and mules and money and chinaware and silver and a mess of stuff them sojers takes.

"We jus' sot on the place doin' nothin' till the white folks comes home. Miss Sara come out to the cabin and say she wants to read a letter to my mammy. It come from Louis Carter, which is brother to my mammy, and he done follow the Fed'rals to Galveston. A white man done write the letter for him. It am tored in half and massa done that. The letter say Louis am workin' in Galveston and wants mammy to come with us, and he'll pay our way. Miss Sara say massa swear, Damn Louis Carter. I ain't gwine tell Sallie nothin',' and he starts to tear the letter up. but she won't let him, and she reads it to mammy.

"After a time massa takes all his niggers what wants to Texas with him and mammy gits to Galveston and dies there. I goes with massa to the Tennessee Colony and then to Navasota. Miss Sara marries Mr. T. Coleman and goes to El Paso. She wrote and told me to come to her and I allus meant to go.

[end p. 16]

"My husband and me farmed round for times, and then I done housework and cookin' for many years. I come to Dallas and cooked seven year for one white family. My husband died years ago. I guess Miss Sara been dead these long years. I allus kep' my years by Miss Sara's years, count we is born so close.

"I been blind and mos' helpless for five year. I'm gittin' might enfeeblin' and I ain't walked outside the door for a long time back. I sets and members the times in the world. I members now clear as yesterday things I forgot for a long time. I members bout the days of slavery and I don't lieve they ever gwine have slaves no more on this earth. I think Gawd done took that burden offen his black chillun and I'm aimin' to praise him for it to his face in the days of Glory what ain't so far off.

Source: The American Slave, vol. 5: 236-246.

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CLRC Writing Center 2/09 Writing a Compare/Contrast Essay

As always, the instructor and the assignment sheet provide the definitive expectations and requirements for any essay. Here is some general information about the organization for this type of essay:

• A comparison essay notes either similarities, or similarities and differences.

• A contrast essay notes only differences.

• The comparison or contrast should make a point or serve a purpose. Often such essays do one of the following:

Clarify something unknown or not well understood. Lead to a fresh insight or new way of viewing something. Bring one or both of the subjects into sharper focus. Show that one subject is better than the other.

• The thesis can present the subjects and indicate whether they will be compared, contrasted, or both.

• The same points should be discussed for both subjects; it is not necessary, however to give both subjects the same degree of development.

• Some common organizational structures include: (see note below)

Block method (subject by subject) Point by point Comparisons followed by contrasts (or the reverse)

• Use detailed topic sentences and the following connecting words to make the relationship between your subjects clear to your reader:

Connectors That Show Comparison (Similarities)

In additon Correspondingly Compared to

Similarly Just as As well as

Likewise Same as At the same time

Connectors That Show Contrast (Differences)

However On the contrary On the other hand

Even though In contrast Although

Unlike Conversely Meanwhile

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Writing a Compare/Contrast Essay The following example contains an element of the author’s opinion, but not all compare/contrast assignments allow for that. Always check your assignment sheet and ask your instructor for clarification about including your opinion.

Point-by-Point Method Block Method Intro • Introduction of general topic

• Specific topic • Thesis = areas to be covered in this essay: Both cats and dogs make excellent pets, but an appropriate choice depends on the pet owner’s lifestyle, finances, and household accommodations.

• Introduction of general topic • Specific topic • Thesis = areas to be covered in this essay: Both cats and dogs make excellent pets, but an appropriate choice depends on the pet owner’s lifestyle, finances, and household accommodations.

Body Paragraph 1

Topic Sentence - Aspect 1 Cats make less of an impact on an owner’s lifestyle. Topic 1 - Aspect 1: Cats • Detail: Don’t have to be watched during the day • Detail: Easier to get care if owner travels Topic 2 - Aspect 1: Dogs • Detail: Pack animals shouldn’t be left alone • Detail: Harder to get care when away Transition Sentence

Topic Sentence – Topic 1 Cats are easier and less expensive to care for. Aspect 1: Lifestyle • Detail: Don’t have to be watched during the day • Detail: Easier to get care if owner travels Aspect 2: Cost • Detail: Food and health care are usually less expensive • Detail: Less likely to cause property damage Aspect 3: House accommodations • Detail: Don’t take up much space • Detail: Less intrusive Transition Sentence

Body Paragraph 2

Topic Sentence - Aspect 2 Cats are less expensive to own and care for. Topic 1 - Aspect 2: Cats • Detail: Food and health care are usually less expensive • Detail: Less likely to cause property damage Topic 2 - Aspect 2: Dogs • Detail: Food is more expensive • Detail: Over-breeding causes some health problems Transition Sentence

Topic Sentence – Topic 2 Dogs are active and loyally engaging pets. Aspect 1 – Lifestyle • Detail: Pack animals shoudn’t be left alone • Detail: Harder to get care when away Need more living space Aspect 2 – Cost • Detail: Food is more expensive • Detail: Over-breeding causes some health problems Aspect 3 – House accommodations • Detail: Often need yard and fence • Detail: Require more safety and protective measures Transition Sentence

Body Paragraph 3

Topic Sentence - Aspect 3 Cats need few special house accommodations. Topic 1 - Aspect 3: Cats • Detail: Don’t take up much space • Detail: Less intrusive

Topic 2 - Aspect 3: Dogs • Detail: Often need yard and fence • Detail: Require more safety and protective measures

Transition Sentence

Optional: develop a paragraph to evaluate the comparison made in the essay: Last summer, I was considering adopting a pet, so I visited the SPCA to gather more information about cats and dogs. I am a full-time student and work part time in the evenings, so my lifestyle and schedule didn’t seem conducive to owning a dog like I had originally planned. Now that I’ve had my cat Cookie for a few months, I see that she’s the perfect fit and a great companion for me.

Conclusion • Summary of main points • Evaluation and/or possible future developments • Significance of topic to author: When considering adopting a pet, a prospective owner must consider the lifestyle, finances, and household accommodations that the pet would require. Owners who neglect to compare these aspects will

• Summary of main points • Evaluation and/or possible future developments • Significance of topic to author: When considering adopting a pet, a prospective owner must consider the lifestyle, finances, and household accommodations that the pet would require. Owners who neglect to compare these aspects will often not care for their pet in a safe manner.

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often not care for their pet in a safe manner.

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Core C Comp/Lit Research Paper 2018-2019

Americans have always been explorers, pilgrims, trailblazers. They brought together a bunch of rag-tag immigrants, and instead of seeing a rabble, they saw citizens capable of forming a free government. They came to a huge continent, and instead of letting it intimidate them, they considered it an adventure.

In a way, you’ve been following this American Way in your coursework at PEP this year. So many books to read, papers to write, ideas to consider—it could easily be a daunting task. But I hope that you have found it to be an adventure and a lot of fun, even when it’s hard work.

As you’ve been exploring the world of ideas this year, has any particular event, character, or issue from your Core classes captured your imagination or puzzled your mind? This year’s research paper will give you a chance to set out like Lewis and Clark and explore that idea more thoroughly.

Following are some sample general topics:- Constitution/law formation- Biblical attitude toward slavery- Marriage in American literature- Innovations of American authors- Relation of church and state- Importance of education in democracy - Contrasting approaches to apologetics- Famous American heroes—were they admirable or not?- Problems with freedom of speech- Obedience to & rebellion from government- Beliefs of non-Christian world views- How does the balance of powers in government work?- Ways that authors’ beliefs influenced their literature

Topic:For this year’s research paper, your topic will be an idea from your Comp & Lit, Starting Points, or History class that intrigued you and that you would like to understand better.Flip through your books, class notes, and handouts to look for ideas. When it is time to submit your topic, you will turn in the Research Paper Topic Proposal. (attached)As you choose your specific topic, REMEMBER that a topic/thesis must be arguable. This means you are making a claim about it which someone else might disagree with, and you have to persuade them. You can do this with just about any topic, but be thinking about how you can do it with your topic.

For example:- NOT: Slavery should be outlawed. You’ll find very few people to disagree with you on this!

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- INSTEAD: While the government has a role in stopping slavery, the main way to fightin any form is by seeing people as made in the image of God. There is room fordisagreement here, and there is plenty of evidence in our text and is relevant today as well.

- NOT: The government can make mistakes. This is uninteresting and leaves no room for disagreement. If the reader feels like they know everything they need to know in your thesis, what is the motivation to continue reading?

- INSTEAD: When a government law conflicts with an individual’s preferences, thatindividual might have reason to disobey the government. This can be argued either way,and we can find sufficient evidence to support this issue in the literature we've read as well as today.

Resources: Four books minimum, plus internet and other resources as

necessary. (You do not have to read the entire book). NOTE:You must use BOOKS as well as other sources. Failure to do so will result in point deductions. This is a research paper, which means that research is required! Books, authors, articles, etc., must be listed on works cited page. If websites are used, follow MLA requirements for documenting websites.

Note Cards: 40 Minimum, in two deadlines.

Outline: Must contain outline and properly formatted bibliography.

Rough Draft: This will be edited by the teacher. However, it is to be complete and as perfect as possible. Edit and proofread your paper before you turn it in. Lackadaisical efforts will be duly rewarded. In some cases, a second semi-perfect, nearly final draft will be required. Due dates may be adjusted accordingly depending on the circumstances of the student.

Length Requirements: 6-8 pages of text. This does not include the title page, and works cited page.

Content Requirements: Your paper must include a minimum of eight text notes. This includes a minimum of four direct quotes. Quotations and ideas that did not originate with you and are not common knowledge must be properly cited with text notes. See the MLA Handbook or the Bedford Handbook for help. The number of quotations CANNOT exceed thirty percent of your paper.A good rule of

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thumb in a research paper is generally to have one text note per paragraph.

Final Draft: Your final draft must be submitted in a pocket folder. On the left side, you will include all of the materials you have turned into me and gotten back. Included in this are: approved topic and thesis sentence, note cards, graded outline, and graded nearly perfect, rough draft of the paper. On the right side will be the final draft of your paper, and a copy of the grading rubric.

Late Penalties: For each deadline that is missed, a twenty percent point deduction will be taken.

Paper Deadlines : January 9: Working topic due.January 14: 4 book sources due.January 21: First set of 20-25 notecards due, bibliography cards due.January 28: Next set of 20-25 notecards and Works Cited page due.February 4: Outline and working thesis.February 11: First 3-4 pages of research paper *WITHOUT INTRODUCTION* due.February 18: Last 3-4 pages of research paper *WITHOUT CONCLUSION* due.February 25: Introduction and conclusion due.February 27: Rough draft due.TBA: Final draft due.

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Core C Research PaperParent’s Checklist

Note to Parent: Thank you for helping your student revise the research paper. This is a multi-step process that involves many language skills, so the final product should represent not only that the students learned content, but also that they know how to structure and document a written argument. What you are reading is not the final draft. Please read and discuss this draft with your student, and then fill out the checklist below. Grades will NOT be assigned based on the number of “yes” responses, so please give honest feedback that will help your student improve later drafts. Students should be able to define any terms with which you are not familiar.

Student: _______________________________ Parent:

_______________________________

Introduction......begins with an attention getter (“hook”) that draws the reader in to the essay. □ yes □ no...is written in the third-person (no “I” or “you” statements). □ yes □ no...contains a clearly stated thesis. □ yes □ no

Thesis:

______________________________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________________________

Body Paragraphs......contain clear claims that serve as topic sentences...

_ yes □ no...that support the thesis made in the introductory paragraph.

□ yes □ no...contain textual evidence (examples/quotes/summaries) to support claim.

□ yes □ no118

...contain appropriate transitions between examples/quotes/summaries. □ yes □ no

...contain commentary that explain/analyze quotes used. □ yes □ no

...contain a conclusion or transition statement to the next reason. □ yes □ no

...are written in the third-person (no “I” or “you” statements). □ yes □ no

...contain properly formatted parenthetical documentation... □ yes □ no

...that refers to sources listed on the Works Cited page. □ yes □ no

In-text Citations......is evident in the body of the essay... □ yes □ no...eight or more parenthetical notations. □ yes □ no...four or more direct quotes. □ yes □ no...includes proper elements (first word of Works Cited entry)...

□ yes □ no...for books: author’s last name and page number (Twain 34).

□ yes □ no...for websites: author’s last name only (Skidmore). □ yes □ no...for sources with no author: title of article in quotes (“Zeus”).

□ yes □ no...is properly spaced: one space after end of sentence, like this (Smith).

□ yes □ no...is properly punctuated: period at the end, like this (Thompson).

□ yes □ noConclusion Paragraph...

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...restates the thesis in different words. □ yes □ no...summarizes claims made in the body paragraphs.

□ yes □ no...ends with a memorable clincher statement. □ yes □ noWorks Cited Page......is on a separate page. □ yes □ no...is properly formatted: spacing, punctuation, indenting (after first line).

□ yes □ no...is properly alphabetized (by first word of entry).

□ yes □ no...contains proper spelling and punctuation.

□ yes □ no...contains at least four books.

□ yes □ no...looks neat and professional. □ yes □ noStylistic DetailsThe paper is between 6-8 pages long (not counting title page or Works Cited page). □ yes □ noThe writing is neatly typed, spell-checked, and free of errors.

□ yes □ noThe writing contains an appropriate title that relates to the topic.

□ yes □ noThe title is properly centered and formatted (same font size as essay).

□ yes □ noThe student’s last name and page number appears in the top right corner.

□ yes □ noThe writing appears to be the student’s best effort.

□ yes □ no120

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Works Cited ChecklistA checkmark indicates a problem.

The Page One-inch margins—top, bottom, both sides

Times New Roman #12 font

Works Cited title—centered, no underline, no Work Cited

All entries hanging indent

Double-space

No extra lines between entries—double-space throughout

Citations in alphabetical order

Only works cited or referenced in the essay appear on the Works Cited page

Works Cited Citations No extra spaces. Example “The Title ” .

Nothing should be in all capital letters, like THIS.

Capitalize all words in the book or “article” title except articles and prepositions.

Format for dates: dd Mmm. yyyy. Example: 10 Apr. 2012.

All information present, including “Web.” and “n.d.” if no date (without quotation marks)

Include the Web site page title (in italics) and the Web publisher. Note: These may be the same: New York Times. New York Times,

Period follows all components except for publisher. Comma follows publisher: Time.com. Time Inc.,

No hotlinks—URL format: <www.thesitename.com>.

All URLs are broken at a slash (/) if line breaks are needed.

Entries are not numbered.

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Grading Sheets & Checklists Writing Research Papers —Grading Sheets & Checklists

Research Essay Rubric Name: ____________________

Project Management and Semi-Perfect, Nearly Final DraftAreas Date Points PossibleWorking Topic 20

Works Cited Page 25

First Set Note Cards 20

Second Set Note Cards 20

Thesis and Outline 45

Semi-Perfect Draft 100

Final DraftArea Date Points PossibleTitle Page 10

Introduction with Strong Hook

10

Thesis Statement 20

Convincing Ideas with Support in Body Para.

100

Counterarguments and Refutations

20

Conclusion with 3 R’s 10

In-Text Citations in Proper Format, 8 min., 4 Direct Quotes

15

Works Cited Page in Proper Form

15

Grammar, Mechanics, Style and Formatting

100

Total Points 300

Deductions: Late Turn In

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Not So Common(place)Bringing Back a Lost Art

This year, you’ll have the chance to rediscover an art that was born in the Renaissance and lost somewhere late in the twentieth century. It’s called “commonplacing.”The word “commonplace” comes from the Latin phrase locus communis, which came from the Greek koinos topos, from which we also get the Topics studied in rhetoric. This phrase was used to describe commonly used quotations or sayings (like our A penny saved is a penny earned): “place” referred to a passage in a book, and it was “common” because so many people knew and quoted it.In the Renaissance, as books and paper became more common, people began to keep journals in which they would record significant or beautiful passages that they discovered in their reading. Not only did this allow them to keep a copy of these passages in days when books were scarce and often shared, but it also enabled them to create a treasury of the words that were important to them. Often, they would write in their most beautiful handwritten scripts and fill the margins with sketches to decorate the words. Sometimes they would also include their own thoughts and responses in the margins. They would go back to this treasury often for inspiration and models to shape their writing and living. And they used the old phrase, “commonplace,” to describe these books. “Commonplacing,” or keeping a commonplace journal, was a skill and an art that was commonly practiced from the Renaissance to the early twentieth century. It was even taught at universities because it was seen as an important discipline of learning, allowing students to store up and treasure the thoughts and words they read rather than moving hastily on. Commonplacing fits well into a medieval metaphor for learning: the making of honey. In order to make honey, bees first have to collect nectar from flowers. Next, they must digest that nectar. Finally, the digested nectar becomes honey. Similarly, said the medievals, learning happens when we collect knowledge (which, since this often happens in reading, they called lectio), contemplate that knowledge (which they called meditatio, from which we get the world “meditate”), and finally create something with that contemplated knowledge—whether an essay or a work of art or a way of life. This last part they called compositio.Commonplacing is an art that assists in both the lectio and meditatio stages of learning. And, come to think of it, these are probably the stages that are hardest for modern students. We are so focused on the final product—the assignment, the test, the essay—that we often skip over the collecting and contemplating stages. But these are where the learning actually happens; without them, the final product will be poor. You have been given a commonplace journal to help you in your learning this year. We will be using it in our Rhetoric I class (which is why you must bring it to class each day). But it is also for you to use yourself. Keep it by you during reading assignments for any class and copy out notes or passages. Carry it around in your purse or pocket, and jot down your thoughts or bits of conversation from throughout the day. Some Renaissance commonplaces put recipes, tax records, and prayers right alongside the quotations. By the time August comes, you may have a treasury of the words that have shaped this year of your life.

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Annotation GuideHow to Scribble in Your Books

Someone has said that the difference between reading and studying is holding a pencil. I think whoever said this was trying to get at the difference between active and passive reading. You know you are reading passively when you get to the end of a page and cannot tell your little brother what it said. You’re also reading passively if, even though you can summarize your reading, you have absolutely no response to it (except, of course, “Boring,” since that word means “no response.” Which, nota bene, means it is an adjective that can only describe a person who can respond, not a thing which cannot. There are bored people, but there are no boring things). Active reading, on the other hand, means that you both understand and are responding to what is being said. You have questions, exclamations, indignations, and affirmations to express. You want to jump in on the conversation.And that’s where the pencil comes in. Annotating (a fancy word for scribbling in your books) allows you to add your thoughts to the conversation that is happening in the books you read. It’s like a key that opens the door at which you’re sitting and eavesdropping (shame on you) so that you can join in the talking.I do not consider myself a model annotator, but I have worked hard to develop a habit of scribbling in my books, and it has been immensely helpful. Here are a few things that have helped me and may help you:• Develop your own annotating “code.” A complicated code will only distract you, but

something simple can make your note-taking more memorable, interesting, and efficient. For example, I use straight underlining under the text or in the margin to mark important passages; an asterisk to mark the key points of an argument; a bracket in the margin to mark a passage I love; and squiggly lines to mark something I disagree with or question.

• Ask and answer questions. It’s okay if most of your scribbling is asking questions that you don’t even answer; in fact, that is one of the best ways to keep your mind actively reading. To get you started, here are questions that should be asked of any persuasive writing or story.

For Persuasive Writing• What is the main claim?• How is the main claim

defended?• What are the separate points

in the defense, and how do they connect to each other?

For Stories• What is happening to the character(s}?• What decisions need to be made?• How do they decide?• What are the results of the decision?• Should they have done what they did? • What episodes can the story be separated into?• How does one episode lead to the next?• Why does the story take these turns and not other ones?• To what extent is the conclusion acceptable? On what

grounds to I accept it, or not?

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Common Sources of Biblical Allusions Name: ___________________________

During the year you will gradually work your way through the bible reading, taking notes and summarizing some of the key events that have become staples of Biblical Allusion. Your understanding of these allusions will not only aid in your spiritual growth, after all you are reading the Bible, but also help you to be more firmly enmeshed in the traditions of Western Literature. Allusions to these biblical stories (and others) are hidden throughout poetry, plays and literature over the past two thousand years and are hidden throughout our public discourse. Your sincere efforts here will help you tremendously as you continue your studies and throughout your life. I will periodically ask to check your progress on your allusions and will give a completion grade at the end of 4th quarter.Throughout the year your novels, poems and short stories will make various allusions to these bible passage. Whenever they are found you should include a brief quote from the story and make the connection. You should complete 2-3 passages per week to keep from getting behind.

Passage Summary Examples Meaning1 The Creation

Genesis 1-2

2 Cain and AbelGenesis 4

3 The FloodGenesis 6:9-19

4 Tower of BabelGenesis 11:1-9

5 Sodom and GomorrahGenesis 18-19

6 Pillar of SaltGenesis 19:26

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7 Jacob’s LadderGen 28:11-19

8 Coat of Many ColorsGenesis 37

9 Burning BushExodus 3:1-5

10

Ten PlaguesExodus 7-11

11

Parting of Red SeaExodus 14:13-31

12

Manna from HeavenExodus 16

13

Ten Commandments; SinaiExodus 19-20

14

Wandering in the WildernessDeut. 2

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15

Gideon’s fleeceJudges 6

16

ShibbolethJudges 12:6

17

Samson and DelilahJudges 15-16

18

David and GoliathI Samuel 17

19

David and BathshebaI Samuel 11-12

20

AbsalomI Samuel 13-18

21

Solomon’s WisdomI Kings 3

22

Queen of ShebaI Kings 10

2 Fire from Heaven

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3 I Kings 18

24

Jezebel and Sabot’s VineyardI Kings 19, 21

25

Nebuchadnezzar/ fiery furnaceDaniel 2-3

26

Writing on the wallDaniel 5

27

Lion’s denDaniel 6

28

Jonah and the WhaleJonah 1-4

29

Valley of the shadow of deathPsalm 23

30

Good SamaritanLuke 10:25-37

31

Pearls before SwineMatthew 7:6

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32

“Golden Rule”Matthew 7:12

33

Hand-washing/ BarabbasMatthew 27

34

Crown of ThornsMatthew 27

35

Judas & Thirty pieces of silverMatthew 27

36

Water into wineJohn 2

37

Born againJohn 3

38

LazarusJohn 11

39

SimonyActs 8

40

Damascus RoadActs 9

41

Four Horsemen of ApocalypseRevelation 6

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42

ArmageddonRevelation 16

43

Tree of LifeRevelation 22

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