University of Virginia Library

A RIVAL.

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 rung 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 nick-name 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 ascendency 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 that admitted
of no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either
a fight or a frolic; had more mischief than ill-will in his
composition; and with all his overbearing roughness,
there was a strong dash of waggish good humour at bottom.
He had three or four boon companions of his own
stamp, 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-skurry had clattered by, and
then exclaim, “Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his
gang!” The neighbours looked upon him with a mixture
of awe, admiration, and good-will; and when any mad-cap
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 amourous 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, 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 erect, and carried his head as
high as ever.

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 consise 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 the
boast of Bones, that he would “double the schoolmaster
up, and put him on a shelf;” 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 schoolhouse at night, in
spite of his formidable fastenings of withes 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.