Everybody dies, didn't they?

Everybody come back.

Isn't that so?

You tried to get into the locked drawer today, didn't you?

How do the dead comeback, mother?

The legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving

Found among the papers of the late Didrich Nickerbocker

A pleasing land of drowsy head it was

Of dreams that weigh before the half-shut eye, and of gay castles in the

clouds that pass, forever flushing round the summer sky. Castle of indolence.

In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson,

and that broad expansion of the river dominated by the ancient Dutch navigators, the Tappanze.

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

Greensborough, 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

county, from the inveterate propensity of their

husbands to linger about in the village tavern on market days. Be that as it may. I do not vouch

for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. Not far from

this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little

valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole

world. A small brook glides through it with just murmur enough to lull one to repose, and the

...