As promised, here is part two, the conclusion of the legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington

Irving.

I profess not to know how women's hearts are rude in one.

To me they've 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 general

ship to maintain possession of the latter, for a 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.

When it is, this was not the case with the redoubtable braw bones, and from the moment

Icabaude Crane made his advances, the interest of the former evidently declined.

His horse was no longer seen tied to the paling on Sunday nights, and a deadly feud gradually

arose between him and the preceptor of Sleepy Hollow.

Brawm, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his nature, would feign 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 knight's errand of your, by single combat.

But Icabaude was too conscious of the superior might of his adversary to enter the list against

him.

He'd overheard the boast of bones that he would double the schoolmaster up and lay him

on a shelf of his own schoolhouse, and he was too weary to give him an opportunity.

...