Original subtitles

The same old move.

Always the same old move.

It's never gonna change, is it?

Well, are you going to play or what?

Will you be wanting dinner, sir?

There's a great leg of mutton tonight,

and perhaps a flagon of beer to go with your meal?

Thank you, missus.

Uh, what is it you're doing, mister?

Is you gonna draw pictures like young Leonard there?

No, sir.

It is a kind of journal I keep of my travels,

and this seems to be a good night

and a good place to catch it up.

I'll have your dinner in a thrice, sir.

Thank you.

Would you like to eat in peace?

Just say the word.

Not at all.

I'm glad of the company.

A journal, is it?

You hear that, boys?

He keeps a journal.

What is a journal, sir, if you don't mind me asking?

I don't mind in the least.

It's a kind of diary of stories

I hear from people I meet.

Hear that?

It's stories he wants.

Well, you've come to the right place.

Have I?

Then this ill wind has blown me some good after all.

Well, it blows you into Tarrytown on the Tappan Zee.

Tarrytown?

Sounds like a sleepy place.

Yep.

The good Dutch farmers who settled this place

used to tarry here over a pint and a pipe

and swap tall tales on market day.

That's how the town got its name.

Uh, what -- what are you gonna do with all these stories?

More what I hope to do, sir.

It is my ambition to publish a book of them someday.

A book. A book. A book.

Thank you, my good woman.

My pleasure, sir.

And if I may, I'd be careful putting anything this lot

has to say in any book.

What do you want to make a book for?

The good ol' tall tales is best told out loud

the way we heard 'em.

A fair question, sir.

It's going on 50 years and more even since the war,

and the stories people tell of those times

will all soon be forgotten if we don't write them down.

Oh, he's got a point there.

When we're gone, who'll be left to tell any tales at all?

I can't even remember my name.

Well, I'd be glad to stand around

for the pleasure of hearing any tales you do remember.

My own father was one of the men that hung

Major Andre from the tulip tree

right here in Sleepy Hollow.

I remember it very well.

He was a British spy

pretending he was sent here by General Washington hisself.

Well, sir, my father seen that he was wearin'

British officer boots,

and they had a good look at his pockets,

and they come up with a note written by that traitor

Benedict Arnold.

Well, sir, they forward marched him

right over to the tulip tree,

and they strung him up right there.

Would you like to hear that tale?

I would indeed.

You just did.

And an excellent tale it is, thank you.

It weren't the tulip tree.

It was the old oak.

And how would you know it?

Your pap wasn't there, was he?

Oh, no, he weren't.

But I was there meself.

Not 17 yet.

It was in the fall of '76.

When I told it it was a true tale.

Now that you stuck your oar in it,

it's just nothin' but an another tall tale.

I'd gladly give you paper from my journal,

if you'd show me what you've been drawing

all this time on that scrap of butcher's paper.

And who would this be?

That would be Mr. Ichabod Crane.

- Yeah. - -Couldn't be no other.

Aye, that's him.

It's as if Leonard has seen him in the flesh itself.

It seems Leonard thinks there's a tale

to be told about this Mr. Crane.

Oh, aye, and so there is.

And I'll be the one to tell it.

As for the rest of you, you were nothin'

but a bunch of runny-nosed brats,

if you ever saw the man or not.

Ichabod Crane -- the only man to be taken outright

from this world by the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

Now, that does sound like a good tale.

Just showed up on the Sleepy Hollow Road

one day in the spring of...

'91.

A Yankee out of Connecticut, or so he said.

Lookin' for work as a school teacher,

or so he said.

Or so he said.

Aah!

Good morning.

Good morning.

There he is! Look!

He moves! The scarecrow.

You see, I'm not a liar.

Whoa!

Ah, good day to you, gentlemen.

I wonder if you'd be so kind as to direct me to the home

of a Mr. Hans Van Ripper.

- Wow! - Here you go.

Go on, now.

Let's go, fellas!

And what business have you with him, stranger?

I have it from a man I met up river

that there might be a position for a man of letters

as headmaster of the Sleepy Hollow school.

I am told that Mr. Van ripper is the superintendent.

You may mock me, my good young man,

but I assure you no better candidate is likely to be found.

I wasn't laughing at you, friend.

Just at the idea anyone would want the job.

But I'd say you're just the man for it, if anyone is.

Wouldn't you, boys?

It's straight on a quarter mile.

You'll come to a path.

There's a sign there for those who can read.

I'm told it says Van Ripper Farm.

I need some more, Will.

Ooh!

It's a hot one, I must say.

No doubt that is the famous

Dutch ale of these parts that you're enjoying there.

Best beer this side of Amsterdam.

You don't suppose you could make me

the loan of the price of a glass?

I'd be only too happy to repay you once I've had my salary.

Well, now, I'd be glad to.

Except I'd hate to send you on your way

with the devil brew on your breath.

Old Van Ripper's got no use for a man

who takes any pleasure in life, if you take my meaning.

Oh, well, I --

I thank you for your wise counsel, young man.

But surely a glass of beer on a hot day would not offend him.

Suit yourself, mister.

But I wouldn't tarry if I was you.

You don't want to be stumbling around

Sleepy Hollow after dark.

There's all manner of spooks and sprites in these woods.

Ah, yes, the local imps and goblins.

Well, this wouldn't be the first town

I've been to that prides itself on such superstitions.

Although, I've found it's usually only the local townsfolk

who ever see any of them.

Maybe so.

But you Ain't never been in Sleepy Hollow before.

True enough.

Well, I'll consider myself warned, then.

Oh, I thank you for your hospitality,

and I look forward to the day I can repay it.

Fancies himself, don't he, boys?

Excuse me, sir.

Would you be Hans Van Ripper,

superintendent of Sleepy Hollow School?

You a government man?

Ichabod Crane, sir, late of Hartford, Connecticut,

come to seek the position of master of the school.

A Yankee. Heh!

What brings you here?

Well, as I say, sir, I'm offering the benefits

of my hard-won erudition

in molding the minds of your fine young students.

Does that mean you can read and write?

Indeed, sir.

Now, here I have Mr. Noah Webster's speller,

and a primer of arithmetic,

and, uh, the Scottish Psaltery and Chorister

consisting of the songs by the inestimable

Mr. Thomas Sternhold,

and lastly, my most cherished possession...

The Reverend Cotton Mather's History of Witchcraft

in New England.

Now, I assure you, sir,

I have read all 4 of these tomes, all through.

You can do sums?

I can. And the tables of multiplication,

the disciplines of division,

the -- all the secrets of Pythagoras' geometer--

Wasn't thinking of hiring no Yankee.

Well, this is indeed a fortunate day for you, sir.

Now, if it were not for my profound love

of the countryside, I would still be lecturing

at Harvard College's School of Divinity.

Well...

No one else has shown up for the job,

so I guess it's yours.

2 shillings a month and room and board,

shared out between all the farmers

hereabout as has a youngun in the school.

Now, if I may say so, sir,

that's a pittance for a man of my erudition and reputation.

Take it or leave it.

Makes no difference to me

whether we have a schoolteacher or not.

But, uh, Mr. Van Ripper,

you're the superintendent of the school.

It's my bad luck the schoolhouse sits on my back pasture.

Otherwise, I wouldn't waste my time with you.

This is where you'll sleep tonight

until arrangements are made.

Shouldn't find that hard to do as sleep

is pretty much all anybody does around here.

Oh, save me now for my desert...

but for thy mercy's sake.

So grievous is my plaint and moan

that I wax wond'rous faint.

All the night long I wash my bed

with tears of my complaint.

Shh!

Shh, shh.

Shh.

Good morning!

What's all this?

Oh, just a precaution against the devils, imps, and goblins.

These woods are home to many such of most unusual power.

You don't say.

Oh, but you need not fret yourself.

Thanks to the Reverend Cotton Mather,

my knowledge of their ways

is more than sufficient to the task.

I'll, uh, ride about the valley,

let people know the school has opened up.

Well, I look forward to meeting my fine young charges.

Uh, heh!

I said I'd let them know, but, uh, seeing as we

ain't had a teacher in more than a year,

I suspect they noticed.

They've been doing just fine without any schooling.

And so, dear students, you will find in me a teacher

who intends to instill in you

a love of learning...

of hard work, of pious discipline,

of country, and of God.

I'm a firm believer in the golden maxim

that to spare the rod is to spoil the child.

A question -- can anyone tell me what that means?

Aah!

Well...

Well, now then...

we'll begin with spelling.

Why must we learn to spell

correctly what we speak and write?

Well, here's how the great man himself explains it.

"To diffuse a uniformity and purity

of language in America,

to destroy the provincial prejudices

that originate in the trifling differences of dialect,

and produce reciprocal ridicule."

Can anyone tell me what that means?

He means...

that by learning proper spelling and pronunciation...

that no one will laugh at you when you travel

away from Sleepy Hollow.

Is that clear?

Yes...

Ernest.

If we don't ever mean to leave Sleepy Hollow,

does that mean we don't have to go to school?

Oliver!

See what fine manners Mr. Crane

has when he's eating, children?

I hope you're learning from his example.

Yes, an excellent repast, Mrs. Van Ecke.

You are an inspired cook, if I may say so.

You're too kind, Mr. Crane.

You'll not be teaching no newfangled notions, will you?

I don't believe in no new notions.

Oh, no, sir. Nothing but the finest in old notions.

The old notions are the best.

I particularly disfavor this new notion of paying taxes.

No, no, I don't expect to be teaching the youngsters

anything to do with taxes, Mr. Van Ecke.

You need have no worry on that score.

And you won't have to be teaching Ernest here

to count any higher than 20.

That's all the hens that fits in our coop.

Oh, well, I'll -- I'll bear that in mind, Mr. Van Ecke.

Well, you don't have to swallow

your whole week's board at one sitting.

Jace!

Let Mr. Crane finish the, um,

the end of his meal in peace.

No offense intended.

Wouldn't want to see you busting at the seams

on your first night is all.

Heh!

Oliver!

Well, I've got my chores.

You'll have to excuse my husband's country manners,

Mr. Crane.

Oh, that's quite all right, Mrs. Van Ecke.

A man of the land isn't likely to understand

how the rigors of headwork leaves one ravenous.

Of course it does.

Well, perhaps I should go fetch my things

before it gets too dark.

Oh, my!

Are you sure you want to go back out there?

Oh, fear not on my behalf, Mrs. Van Ecke.

Thanks to my deep study

of the Reverend Cotton Mather's works,

I have no fear of the evil that thrives in darkness.

Spare me, you terrible apparition!

I did not mean to mock you.

Cast me not into the pit, I beg you!

Go on, you old fool cow!

And the next time we meet, let it be at table.

* Sing to the Lord *

* With cheerful voice *

* And serve with mirth *

* His praise forth tell *

* Come ye before Him *

* and rejoice *

* O enter then His gates with praise *

* Approach his joy *

* With love unto *

* Praise Lord and bless His name always *

* For it is He *

* We sought to do *

An excellent message, Pastor Van Der Veen.

The credit is the Lord's, Mr. Crane,

for it is His word which inspires my poor ones after all.

Yes, indeed.

Uh, you and your fine church are excellent in every regard

but one, though it's no fault of yours.

And that would be?

Why, a singing voice.

Now, I take no false pride in having such,

but I would employ it for His greater glory

with your kind permission.

What exactly do you have in mind, Mr. Crane?

Well, I would gladly undertake to give lessons

in liturgical choristry.

With your blessing, of course.

Well...

you do have a very strong voice, Mr. Crane, but --

Oh, well, then what say you, pastor?

Do I have your blessing in this enterprise?

Oh, well...well...

Folks will marvel.

- They will marvel. - Yes, but --

Well, I know what concerns you.

Yours is a poor country church, after all.

Now...

I will gladly reduce my usual fees

for such professional lessons to a mere, uh...

shilling per pupil.

Papa!

Uh, twice a week?

Papa, please.

What?

Okay. Will you excuse me?

Please!

Ah, forgive my intrusion,

but please allow me to introduce myself.

I am Ichabod Crane, headmaster of Sleepy Hollow School,

and at Pastor Van Der Veen's kind invitation,

choirmaster of the Tarrytown Church.

How do you do, Mr. Crane?

Um, I'd like to introduce my husband Baltus Van Tassel.

My pleasure, sir.

You sing loud enough to wake the dead, sir.

I'm surprised our ancestors didn't jump out of their graves

to see what all the fuss was about.

Well, what can I say?

It's a gift, Meneer Van Tassel.

But I could not help but take note

of Madam Van Tassel's lovely singing voice,

and that of your lovely daughter.

If the would but attend my psalmody classes,

they would be the glory or our choir.

Oh! Mr. Crane!

Do you really suppose that we could be good enough

to sing before the congregation?

You have the voices of untutored angels, Madam Van Tassel.

Goodness, Baltus, did you hear that?

I don't know what I'm hearing exactly.

I shall certainly attend your psalmody class, Mr. Crane,

and do my best to prove worthy of your choir.

Wonderful, Madam.

And your daughter?

Oh, she has a mind of her own, that girl.

Stubborn as a mule, you mean.

Just like her father.

Katrina, we're going!

I have to go.

Katrina, dear, this is Mr. Ichabod Crane,

our new schoolmaster.

I am enchanted to make your acquaintance, Miss Van Tassel.

Ah, Katrina Van Tassel.

She was the most beautiful girl I ever saw.

And the richest.

There wasn't a man alive in Sleepy Hollow

who wouldn't sell his soul to the devil

for fair Katrina's hand.

Till Ichabod Crane came along.

Aye.

Well, you wouldn't suspect it just looking at him.

And who'd have taken him for a thief of hearts?

Brom Bones certainly never did.

* To wicked men his ear *

* Nor led his life as sinners do *

* Nor sat in scorner's chair *

* But in the lew of God the Lord *

* Doth send his holy delight *

* And in the same, doth exercise *

* Himself *

* Both day and night *

I'm sorry Katrina couldn't come.

She's gone to Dobb's Landing for the cup races tomorrow.

They've gone to cheer on our town's champion --

Mr. Abraham Van Brunt.

Oh, I'm relieved to hear it.

I was disappointed to think our choir would have to do

without her angelic coloratura.

Her -- Her what?

That's a Russian phrase

for a singing voice of many bright colors...

If you will.

Like Joseph's coat in the land of Egypt.

The sort that is suitable for opera.

The voice, that is, not the coat.

Oh, my, my!

I don't believe we've ever had such a cultured gentleman

in Sleepy Hollow.

Why don't you come to dinner with us tomorrow night,

Meneer Crane.

Well, I'd be honored.

Wait till I tell Katrina she sings in colors!

Good night, Meneer Crane!

I was just talking to a fellow I know from Sing Sing.

Taddeaus Kinkel?

I'll be racing against him.

Oh, yes? I know Taddeaus.

What about him?

He told me he's leaving for the Ohio territories in a week.

Brom, I thought we weren't going to talk about this anymore.

Katrina, he's a year younger than me.

There are men even younger that have made their fortunes

farming out West.

There's no limit to what a man can do out there

if he's got a strong back...

and a good wife.

Brom, please.

You know how I feel about it. Why do you bring it up again?

What about how I feel?

Opportunity's passing me by.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

But I can't go with you.

I won't.

I don't understand, Katrina.

I thought you wanted more out of life than just Sleepy Hollow.

I do want more, but not less.

I want to see the civilized world,

not the primitive wilderness.

I want to see Amsterdam and attend concerts,

and see the fashions and the great museums.

And I want to come home again to the beautiful farm

my parents have spent their lives building.

Brom, I am their only heir.

I can't just turn my back on them.

Why do you have to go to Ohio to make a fortune?

Is my father's farm not enough for you?

I want to make my own way, Katrina.

I don't want your father's fortune.

I want to make one of my own.

A greater fortune than he or anyone in Sleepy Hollow

ever dreamed of.

If you loved me, you wouldn't say that.

You wouldn't want to drag me off to live like a savage.

But I do love you, and I'm saying it.

This is a great country.

The land of liberty.

Just waiting for men like me to go out and settle it.

Please row me to shore, Brom.

Here they come!

Looky here, Katrina --

another cup for me and Daredevil.

This is for you.

I think it would be inappropriate to accept

such a gift from a friend,

wouldn't you say, Pastor Van Der Veen?

What?

Oh! Yes, I suppose.

Silver, is it?

Yes, well, very valuable then.

It would signify, wouldn't it, dear?

Indeed, it would.

A gift of silver signifies.

Mere friends of courting age do not exchange such gifts.

It's just a prize for a horse race.

Then perhaps you should give it to your horse.

Good day!

Good day to you.

Carry on!

Katrina!

Katrina!

I'm home!

Why, Mr. Crane, you're early!

Punctuality may be a minor virtue,

but it is a virtue nonetheless,

and one can never have enough virtue.

Therefore to be early has even more virtue in it

then to be on time.

Indeed! My goodness!

I never would have thought of that.

Come in.

At least he didn't show up for breakfast.

He might've ascended straight up into heaven.

Oh, Baltus!

Do come in, Mr. Crane.

There are 13 of them spoons in there, if memory serves.

Oh! Well, I --I --

I was -- I was just admiring the quality of the workmanship.

Dutch, no doubt.

English, as a matter of fact.

Had them from the box of a Redcoat officer

in a skirmish about half a mile from this house.

The summer of '74.

He would've done better to carry a second musket

instead of a tea service.

But that was his misfortune and, uh, my providence.

An excellent repast, Mrs. Van Tassel.

You are an inspired cook, if I may say so.

It's just simple Dutch fare, Mr. Crane.

Nothing like what you're used to, I'm sure.

You underestimate yourself, my dear Mrs. Van Tassel.

I have eaten in some of the finest homes in Boston,

and the cuisine does not compare with yours.

Oh, well, you're kind to say so.

I'm sure the conversation was much more lively

and interesting.

It's pitch black out already, Amelia.

Do you want him running into the Headless Horseman?

Oh, dear!

Where has the time gone?

The Headless Horseman?

Baltus, you must see Mr. Crane home

in the carriage.

You won't catch me on that road after dark.

I'm going to bed.

Good night to you, sir.

And God speed you.

Well, you can stay with us the night, Mr. Crane.

We have plenty of room.

Um, if you wouldn't mind, Mrs. Van Tassel,

perhaps you could tell me what you're referring to.

Oh, the Headless Horseman?

He was a Hessian mercenary who has tormented our little town

ever since the day he was killed.

- Tormented? - I'm afraid so.

It was in a skirmish right here in Sleepy Hollow

on the night of the full harvest moon.

Many of our men were there that night,

and they swear to a man that it's true.

They induced a Hessian captain to turn his coat

and lead them against the British

for a pack of gold coins.

A British frigate had landed a force of infantry

upon the shore, intent on taking Sleepy Hollow.

The Hessian captain organized our defense.

He was leading the charge against the invaders

when a round of British grapeshot stuck him in his head

and carried it clean off his shoulders.

Legend has it that at that moment the full moon

turned red as blood.

But the headless body of that captain rode on

without its head, sword still upraised,

straight into the British lines!

Our boys, lead by their headless captain,

drove them Redcoats out of our Hollow,

and they never come back!

My goodness.

An excellent tale.

A wonderful example of the...

genre of the local legend.

Genre?

it's an "I-talian" word.

Meaning a story widely believed

by the inhabitants of a particular place.

And it really doesn't scare you to go home

on the Sleepy Hollow Road?

Oh, not at all.

Not a bit.

It's gratifying to meet a man

who doesn't believe all these silly superstitions

and isn't afraid to say so.

What?

Oh, yes.

Certainly not.

I don't believe them, either, but I have to pretend to.

Everyone here is so proud of their ghosts and goblins.

Well...

often these stories are the only way of passing the time

in these little villages.

But an educated man like myself does not take them seriously,

I assure you.

Well, Mother didn't tell you why people are afraid to go

on the Sleepy Hollow Road at night.

No, she didn't.

It's just more silly nonsense, and I'm sure you must be tired.

No, no, not at all.

I'd be very interested to know why people are

so afraid to be on the road at night.

Old Heinrich Brewer wasn't afraid of ghosts, either,

and like you, he wasn't afraid to say so.

One night, about the same time of year as this,

he took the Sleepy Hollow Road

for a shortcut coming back from a trip to Manhattan.

Those he was traveling with took the longer road

for fear of the Horseman, but he scoffed at them

and boasted he'd be home an hour before them.

He never made it home.

Up and down the Sleepy Hollow Road,

people heard him screaming and begging for mercy,

but no one dared go out.

They found him the next morning in the churchyard...

with his head pulled down into the earth

of the Horseman's grave as far as his shoulders.

It seemed the Horseman meant to take it down

into the grave for himself.

When they pulled him free, his eyes were still staring

at the horror that loomed over him at the last.

His face was as white and bloodless as a sheet of paper,

and his neck had been stretched,

as though it had been hung on a gibbet.

You see?

Silly, isn't it?

Oh, yes.

Quite, uh...

ridiculous.

Good night, Meneer Crane.

Indeed, uh...

I should be on my way.

Good night.

* Lord, in thy wrath, reprove me not *

* Though I deserve thine ire *

* Nor yet correct me in thy rage *

* For I am weak *

* Therefore, O Lord *

* Of mercy me forbear *

Oh, my goodness!

Do you think Mr. Crane has met the headless one?

We can only hope.

How can you say that?

Poor Mr. Crane!

Poor Horseman.

Your precious schoolmaster has likely scared

the wits out of him with all that bellowing.

Ahh, here we are at last.

Good evening, Mrs. Van Tassel.

Good evening, Meneer Crane.

Miss Van Tassel.

Well, if you please, ladies, I think we're ready to begin.

Who does he think he is?

I heard it was her mama's idea to have him for dinner,

not Katrina's.

I'll tell you who he is.

He's a weasel who thinks that all he needs to do

is get his foot in the door to steal my girl.

What are you gonna do?

We have open house on Sundays after church.

Why don't you come and have a cup of tea?

That would be alright, wouldn't it, Mother?

Of course it would.

You're always welcome, Mr. Crane.

It's my pleasure.

There goes Brom Bones and his gang off

for another night of carousing.

Will that boy ever grow up?

Not in my lifetime.

If I may say, Miss Van Tassel, you demonstrate a wisdom

and a maturity far beyond your tender years.

Good night, Meneer Crane.

Well, sir, the news about Brom and Katrina

went 'round Sleepy Hollow like a brush fire in a drought.

They're saying that every marriageable man from 16 to 60

was ready to try his luck.

Damn fools, every one of them.

Miss Van Tassel.

How lovely to see you.

Meneer Crane.

I'm so glad you could come.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a stroll

with Meneer Crane.

Please stay and finish your tea.

Mrs. Van Tassel, do you not object

to your daughter strolling with that man?

In my experience, ducks and geese

are foolish creatures who need to be looked after,

but your Katrina can take care of herself.

I can hardly believe something like that.

I assure you, it is true, Miss Van Tassel,

confirmed by experiments both here and in Europe.

The world spins like a top, and half of every day,

we are topsy-turvy whether we know it or not.

But I thought the world is like a ball,

or else how could it spin so smoothly?

Like a ball, Miss Van Tassel?

Well, does not a child's top spin, yet it is not a ball?

Do you mean to say that the world is like a top?

Well...

the learned men of science are divided on this point,

for some think as I do, while others,

who perhaps have not the studied the matter as deeply,

feel it is more like a...

like a spinning wheel.

Now, both these forms have spinning as their very nature

while balls have bouncing as their nature.

Spinning, bouncing.

Very different.

You stir a yearning in me, Meneer Crane.

I do?

I thirst for knowledge.

I'm so grateful to you for sharing yours with me.

Well...

Miss Van Tassel...

won't you call me Ichabod?

We should be getting back.

Oh, yes.

Of course.

If the world is like a top and spins on its point,

then what is it standing on?

What?

Oh, nothing.

I'm sure I'm just being silly.

Should we go back to the house?

Katrina!

Katrina!

If you had your choice of anywhere in the world

to travel to, Ichabod, where would you go?

Well, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than

right here in Sleepy Hollow.

I'm quite serious.

Wouldn't you like to travel?

Well, sometimes it seems like all I've ever done

is travel from one place to another.

But don't you want to see the great museums of Amsterdam?

Or hear an orchestra play?

I dream of seeing my homeland.

Ohh, yes.

Well, I...

I long to travel.

To see the pyramids of Egypt,

the Great Wall of China.

The world is full of wonders.

Is it so unusual to have a wall in China?

Well, I suppose it must be.

Ladies.

Aah!

Run!

Run for your lives!

The devil has taken possession of the schoolhouse!

I want you at the window.

Put an end to this now.

Alright. I'll go first.

This is the devil's work.

He makes himself known by turning things topsy-turvy.

It's meant to drive me out of Sleepy Hollow,

but I will not be driven out.

We will fight him together!

Looks like the devil's using hammer and nails

to work his spells these days.

Ichabod...

if you were me, what would you do with your life?

Do?

I'd travel the world, of course.

Yes, I know, but would you have some ambitions

to accomplish something as well?

Ambition?

Oh, yes, of course.

Ambitions, yes, well...

You have ambitions.

Noble ambitions.

I do?

You...

You hope to one day marry...

As do I, although it is a daunting challenge

on a country schoolmaster's stipend.

Do you desire wealth?

Well, I've never really given it a thought...

although I've always trusted in the good Lord to provide.

So He has.

Although at times, he's tested me sorely.

Would you spurn it if you suddenly found yourself

in possession of wealth?

Well, I -- I...

Would you give it away

and keep only what you needed to live your dreams?

Give it away?

no.

Bear in mind, Katrina,

if the man of virtue gives his wealth away,

well, those who have it from him would likely be of lesser virtue

and thus, evil, and not good would come of it.

O-O-Of course, they might not be of lesser virtue

just because they're...

poor.

The question is a difficult one.

Aah!

Ichabod, are you alright?

Hello, Katrina.

What are you doing here?

I've brought you a new singing master,

even louder than the old one,

and what's more, he won't cost you your inheritance.

He'll sing for free or at least the odd table scraps.

I've trained him myself.

Go away, Brom.

You're only making a fool of yourself.

I don't see what difference that makes now.

Do you, Katrina?

Abraham Van Brunt!

What do you think you're doing?!

Good evening, Mrs. Van Tassel, Mr. Van Tassel.

I hope I haven't disturbed you,

but I know how much Katrina admires loud singing.

Are you alright, Ichabod?

Oh, no, I'm fine. Fine.

Uh, I'll just sit down a moment.

Do you see what you've done, Mr. Van Brunt?

No, I'm sure he didn't mean his childish prank

to cause me any injury.

No, you're right there.

That was just a lucky turn.

Come along, Brom.

Let's see if there isn't a little reward

for your reverent mutt, huh?

I think a drink is in order after that performance.

I think Mr. Van Brunt has had quite enough to drink already!

Oh, I meant for the dog, my dear.

I see I've gone and made you upset, Mrs. Van Tassel.

I'm very sorry.

Ha! Come on.

Katrina, go and fetch one of your father's robes.

You can come and change in the guest room, Mr. Crane.

I will get the stain out of your suit and steam it and press it.

Oh, no, no.

That's hardly necessary, Mrs. Van Tassel.

Oh, that's nonsense! Of course it is!

You can't go home in soiled, wet clothes!

You haven't done your cause much good with this.

The cause is lost, Meneer.

Oh, she's just 18 years old.

She doesn't know her mind,

she just thinks she does, and she's angry with you.

Have a little patience until she sorts it out.

I mean no disrespect,

but am I wrong to want to make my own way in the world?

Not just step in here and have the benefits

of all you've accomplished?

Katrina feels she doesn't want to turn her back on me

and her mother and run off with you to Ohio.

I love her more than life itself.

I don't believe he loves her...

not like I do.

Go home, Brom.

You start drowning your sorrows.

You need a clear head and sharp eyes

to seize your chance when it comes, hmm?

Will you do that?

I will.

It occurs to me that if a stranger were to come in now,

he would judge you to be the master here and me the guest.

Oh, I doubt that, sir.

I think anyone would see immediately who is master here.

What do you think, Crane?

Would you like to be master here some day?

Oh, Mr. Van Tassel,

I would never even think such a presumptuous thought.

No, no, no, no, wait.

I am a man who appreciates plain talk, Crane.

It will fall to my daughter's husband

to prosper this farm for her and for my grandchildren.

Do you think that you could learn to manage van Tassel farm?

Well...

Well...

I will speak plainly, Mr. Van Tassel.

I've no experience farming...

but I would devote myself to the study of agriculture

and animal husbandry.

And you would be content to give up all this bookishness

and be a farmer?

Without hesitation.

And these fancies of Katrina's, culture and travel

and book learning and so forth?

We're both men of the world, sir.

These are the immature, romantic fantasies

of a young and sheltered girl.

I'm certain that once she's presented you

with a grandchild...

she will put all these foolish dreams

behind her, hmm?

Good morning, Mr. Crane.

Uh, Meneer van Tassel extends an invitation

to harvest merrymaking this evening.

He hopes you can attend.

Miss Katrina has invited me to a merrymaking?

I suppose she concurs, sir.

Tonight?

I believe I mentioned that as well, sir.

Well...

I'll be there.

You tell Miss Katrina, uh...

I'll be there.

Uh, Meneer will be glad to know it.

Good day.

School --

School is dismissed.

And tomorrow shall be a holiday, too!

You've done it!

Meneer Crane, you devil, you.

There is only one reason for this merrymaking, hmm?

She doesn't want to wait any longer

and neither do her parents.

You will be the master of the Van Tassel Farm.

No, in the fullness of time, the Crane Farm.

No, no.

The Crane Estate.

Mrs. Van Ripper!

Mrs. Van Ripper!

Mrs. Van Ripper?!

Mr. Crane!

What on earth has happened?

Mrs. Van Ripper,

I am beset by Satan's imps.

They have ruined my only suit of clothes

and -- and set a plague of locusts upon me.

You must help me.

Calm yourself.

Sit down here on the porch and wait a minute.

This is my husband's wedding suit.

He was quite a bit thinner then, but not much taller,

I'm afraid, but it's the best I can do.

God bless you, Mrs. Van Ripper.

God bless you, Mrs. Van Ripper.

Uh, Mr. Van Ripper...

I hope you don't mind my making a loan

of your wedding suit for the evening.

You can keep it for all it matters to me.

I'm not plannin' on marryin' again anytime soon.

You know...

this may be a good omen after all.

If my hopes are fulfilled tonight,

I may ask for the loan of this suit

once more for the purpose it was made for.

Oh, could I ask one further favor of you,

my dear superintendent?

I don't lend money.

Oh, no, not money, sir.

No. Only the use of a horse for the evening?

A horse?!

Well, I must make a proper impression.

I'm the guest of honor.

My, my.

Guest of honor.

Movin' up in the world, aren't you, Mr. Crane?

Well, what do you say, Mr. Van Ripper?

Will you let me have the horse?

Well, you can have my plow horse, Gunpowder.

He may be too old to pull a plow anymore,

but he can still be mean as the devil.

Ohh, thank you, sir.

Mr. Van Ripper,

I will never forget your kindness

and in years to come, you will see

that Ichabod Crane...

knows how to treat his friends.

Gunpowder!

Come back here!

Right now!

Gunpowder was the most famous plow horse in Sleepy Hollow.

Pardon my ignorance, but what makes a plow horse famous?

Had no sense of direction!

And when Gunpowder plowed a field,

it looked like the pattern on a patchwork quilt!

That old workhorse wasn't just dumb, he was downright ornery!

Just like his owner!

Gunpowder and Ichabod!

There's a sight that you'd never forget!

Good evening!

Excuse me, ladies.

Ichabod.

You didn't have to dress up.

It's only a harvest merrymaking.

I'm sorry I'm late, Katrina.

I had a bit of difficulty with my horse.

He's a spirited...

animal.

Evening, Brom!

I, uh...

It took me a while to break him to my will.

I, uh...

I hope I didn't worry you.

Excuse me a moment.

Have we missed anything?

There.

That should hold you for a bit.

Oh, you are too kind, Meneer Van Tassel.

And have a glass of beer.

Wouldn't want you choking on this night of all nights.

Enjoy yourself.

Come on, Katrina, let's dance.

No, thank you.

Just one dance.

Come, Ichabod, storytelling has just begun.

I'm sure you don't want to miss that.

Oh, what -- oh, yes, but, um, uh...

Don't worry about Katrina.

The night is still young.

Katrina...

Brom.

What's going on, Katrina?

Did that Yankee schoolmarm cast some kind of spell over you?

You're acting like...

like...

you're sweet on that fool.

What do you care if I am?

Katrina...

I love you.

I know you.

You can never be happy with that grasshopper.

I'm asking you for another chance.

Ichabod doesn't just dismiss my dreams as you do.

Katrina, my exquisite one!

Th-Th-Th-Though it is no fault of his own,

y-y-you're Mr. Van Brunt is nothing

but an ignorant blacksmith.

If you, fair Katrina, would only grant me your hand in marriage,

I-I-I-I would gladly teach that poor fool

by -- by my example.

What say you, fair Katrina?

I'm going inside.

Are you coming?

You go on ahead.

I'll be along.

He dropped to his knees,

frantically digging at the grave site with his bare hands.

His fingers ripping at the tree roots that strangled her coffin.

His eyes burning and blinded by the dust of her grave,

when suddenly, the woman's hands pulled him

into the black pit screaming!

"Till death do us part!"

Well, good wife, let's have the story

of the Headless Horseman for our honored guest.

No one tells it like you do.

I'm afraid Mr. Crane is very hard to impress.

I told him the tale at this very house

and he still walked the Sleepy Hollow Road

after the witching hour, although I offered lodging.

Didn't you, Mr. Crane?

I did.

I think you'd be more impressed if you ran into him.

Oh, but I did run into him, Meneer,

but I'm not altogether sure that it was your...

Headless Horseman and not some other soldier of Satan,

for I did not see his head or lack of one thereof,

but I can assure you he came with companion ghosts.

What happened, Mr. Crane?

Tell the tale!

Tell the tale!

Tell the tale!

Well, uh, I was proceeding homeward

to the Van Rippers', where I was boarded that week,

when the haunts charged me all together.

Well, had I shown fear,

they would have succeeded in their purpose,

but I stood my ground,

and just as they were about to trample me,

they vanished like the mist...

into nothingness.

Just vanished, did they?

Like that.

I can hardly believe it.

I doubt it was the Horseman he saw,

for no man can stand in his way and live.

Well, Mr. Van Brunt, I believe your Headless Horseman

fears those who do not fear him,

which explains why he charged me in the company

of a host of other mounted ghosts

as if he knew that by himself

he would be at the disadvantage.

Brave words sitting here in a room

full of God-fearing people,

with light and good food and whiskey to warm your soul.

But I'll wager your blood would run as cold as mine

did were you to meet the real Headless Horseman

on the dark road all alone.

You've seen this Headless Horseman?

Seen him...

and more.

Tell the tale!

Tell the tale!

Tell the tale!

I was returning home from a name day celebration

from my uncle in Sing Sing.

Though it was well past the witching hour,

we came along the Sleepy Hollow Road

to save us an hour more of riding.

Some say it was foolish taking the chance,

knowing what the Horseman done to Brewer,

but I'd never spoken disrespectful of him and me

and Daredevil could outrun and out-ride any man or ghost!

Or so I thought.

And so it was.

As we come to Major Andre's tree,

Daredevil pulled up in his gallop

and reared up so high, he nearly thrown me down...

And there before me with the bright red moon behind him...

Sat the Headless Horseman in the middle of the road.

He didn't move...

so I started Daredevil at a gentle trot toward him,

thinking I could dash through the stream around him

and make a run for my life.

I knew me and Daredevil could do it...

but as we came abreast, he drew his sword from his scabbard

and raised it high and then he swung it around to take my head!

If I hadn't ducked down,

he would have sliced it clean off with his fiery sword!

Well, sir, me and Daredevil, we run like we never run before,

but that devil horse was breathing fire

on Daredevil's rump,

and that sword was flashing and slashing through the dark,

an inch from the back of my neck.

We both knew what it was we were up against.

We were running, I tell you,

but never did we gain a stride on our pursuer.

I kicked that horse of mine like I never kicked him

'fore or since, and he knew what it was I wanted.

All we had to do was get across the log bridge,

through the churchyard, and past the Hessian's grave.

But as we come to the edge of the stream,

I felt a blackness cover me and Daredevil.

It was so thick, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face,

and then, all of a sudden, there he was...

in front of me, across the stream.

He passed right through me!

I knew then it was all over.

He could do with me what he wanted.

I closed my eyes and waited for the blow...

And?

And?

Never come.

I opened one eye to see what was taking him so long.

He'd sheathed his sword, and if he had a head,

I had a feeling it'd be smiling.

He turned his horse around and trotted back

into the churchyard and down,

as though into a ravine...

until nothing of him remained.

But I am just an ignorant blacksmith

without any of the education Mr. Crane boasts of.

I doubt if I've given him any reason

to fear the Sleepy Hollow Road at night.

Have I, Mr. Crane?

Indeed, though the tale you tell is terrifying,

to be sure, Mr. Van Brunt...

I'm confident and prepared for any such encounter.

You still here, Ichabod?

I'll be on my way momentarily, Baltus.

I'm just hoping to have a moment in private with Miss Katrina.

Ah, well, then, good night, Ichabod, and, uh...

good-bye.

Here you are, Katrina.

Ichabod.

I thought you would have been on your way by now.

There's, um...

There's something I've been meaning to ask you

all evening long and, well...

and I think the moment...

has come.

My dear Katrina,

I believe you know what I wish to say.

I believe you know what is in my heart.

I believe I do, yes.

My darling...

I am prepared to give up my lifelong study

of the mysteries of the invisible world all for you.

All I ask...

I ask for nothing...

but your dear hand in marriage,

that I may be your husband

and protector,

your helpmate and mentor,

your guide and teacher --

You care nothing for me.

I doubt if you care for anyone but yourself.

What did you say, my dear Katrina?

All you care about is my father's property and wealth.

What?

Who put such thoughts into your head?

Is it Brom that poisoned your mind against me?

Brom may have no education, but he does loves me.

It's me he wanted.

Only me.

But, Katrina, you...

you accuse me unjustly.

I...

I swear by all that's holy --

Careful, Mr. Crane.

To swear falsely by all that's holy is to invite damnation.

Katrina...

how could you think me capable of such a thing?

"We are both men of the world, sir.

These are the immature romantic fantasies

of a young and sheltered girl.

I'm sure once she has presented you with a grandchild,

she will put all such foolish dreams behind her."

You are a hypocrite, Mr. Crane.

Now I suggest you be on your way.

Good night, and please don't call on me again.

Go. Go on.

Whoa! Whoa!

Whoa! Whoa, boy!

Whoa, boy!

Gunpowder!

Gunpowder?!

Whoa! Oh, whoa!

Whoa!

Easy, boy! Easy!

That's it.

It's just a trick of the moonlight.

Whoa!

Gunpowder.

Aah!

Aah!

Ahhhhh!

Is this your head?

Well, it must be.

It's full of mush.

You think I didn't know it was you?

Do you suppose I'm such a fool as to think --

Aah...

Well, if it's what it seems like,

he was took by the Headless Horseman

right out of this world.

I can't understand why such a terrible thing

could have befallen poor Mr. Crane.

I reckon it was because he was a Yankee.

I guess that just leaves us to settle his accounts

right and proper.

He was a bachelor as far as we knows.

Is anyone owed any money by the departed schoolmaster?

Well, then, I say we burn all this truck of his.

We don't want him coming back from the pit

looking for his pipe, I reckon.

And no one ever heard any news

of the unfortunate Mr. Crane ever again?

Well, how could they when he was snatched out of this world

by the Headless Horseman,

not even leaving a hair behind?

And Brom and Katrina, what of them?

They was married shortly after.

It was the finest wedding anyone ever seen in Sleepy Hollow.

I was there and danced with the bride myself.

And for the honeymoon,

Brom Bones booked passage to Amsterdam

and they stayed there the whole of the winter.

It's Van Brunt Farm now, bigger than ever,

and it's parceled out to all the grandchildren.

So how say you, Meneer Knickerbocker,

was this a tale worth writing down?

Oh, yes, though there are one or two points

on which I have my doubts.

Well, as to that, I don't even believe one half of it, myself,

and I ain't sayin' which half.

Well, then, let's raise our tankards

to the memory of poor unfortunate Mr. Crane.

Ichabod Crane!

Why, that's the departed Widow Jakobs,

with a living child in her arms!

Now, that's a tale.

Not too long of one, I hope.

Well, it's said that she died of childbirth

way back in the time of old Heinrich Hudson himself.

She was the first buried in what became our churchyard

together with her unborn child.

There was such a crush.

Old Heinrich Hudson had tried to get

to the grave site and failed miserably...