Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    From $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    7 best short stories by Washington Irving
    7 best short stories by Washington Irving
    7 best short stories by Washington Irving
    Ebook129 pages4 hours

    7 best short stories by Washington Irving

    By Washington Irving and August Nemo

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    He was the greatest American writer of his time: mentor to Poe, Dickens, and Hawthorne, his country's first professional author, and a writer of uniqely American ghost stories about growth, change, and identity. This selection specially chosen by the literary critic August Nemo, contains the following stories:

    - The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
    - Rip Van Winkle
    - The Devil and Tom Walker
    - Christmas
    - Guest from Gibbet Island
    - The Legend of the Engulphed Convent
    - The Adventure of my Uncle
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTacet Books
    Release dateMay 10, 2020
    ISBN9783968584904
    7 best short stories by Washington Irving
    Author

    Washington Irving

    Washington Irving fue un autor, ensayista, biógrafo, historiador y diplomático estadounidense. Realizó estudios de Derecho, pero su vocación se interesaba más por el periodismo y la escritura que por la abogacía. En 1802 comenzó a escribir artículos en periódicos de Nueva York. En 1815 se fue a vivir a Liverpool y allí trabó amistad con importantes hombres de letras: sir Walter Scott y Thomas Moore, entre otros. Escribió algunos ensayos y relatos bajo el seudónimo de Geoffrey Crayon. Considerado el mentor de autores como Nathaniel Hawthorne, el hispanista Henry Wadsworth Longfellow y Edgar Allan Poe, entre su obra destacan los siguientes títulos:  Cuentos de la Alhambra, Los buscadores de tesoros, La conquista de Granada, La leyenda de Sleepy Hollow o la biografía George Washington. En 1846, regresó a Sunnyside (EE. UU.), su casa de campo, y allí falleció en 1859.

    Read more from Washington Irving

    Related to 7 best short stories by Washington Irving

    Titles in the series (100)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Horror Fiction For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • UNLIMITED

      The Coleridge Way

      Nov 5, 2021

      The Coleridge Way
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Why Utopias Are Dangerous

      Jun 24, 2022

      bigthink.com Nineteenth-century Russian writers were “obsessed” with the idea of utopia, says Tim Brinkhof. They wrote stories and treatises imagining how their own increasingly dysfunctional society could be replaced by one “devoid of suffering or

      1 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The Flatwoods Monster!

      Mar 24, 2022

      The Flatwoods Monster!
      1 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Coastal Mississippi

      Jul 13, 2021

      Coastal Mississippi
      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Not All Peace And Love

      Jun 13, 2024

      Not All Peace And Love
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Three Poems

      Jul 1, 2024

      It’s a glorious spring day in February. The utility company is clawing leadpipes out of the pavement while big magnolia blossoms tumble into thehole. At the doctor, I sit gingerly, trying not to wrinkle the butcher paper.I think of my grandmother, wh

      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The New Arrival

      Oct 1, 2020

      Maya had never visited the public library before, and at this rate it looked like she never would. She knew it was around here somewhere, but the fog was so thick she could barely see her sneakers. Putting off her homework had been a mistake, but get

      6 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      The Original Wizard

      Jun 7, 2024

      The Original Wizard
      8 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      What Lies Beneath?

      May 31, 2022

      What Lies Beneath?
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Arenas Outside Italy

      Oct 31, 2024

      Arenas Outside Italy
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      “Beware The Moon, Lads!”

      Dec 27, 2019

      “Beware The Moon, Lads!”
      7 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Influential Modern Artists

      Oct 3, 2024

      Influential Modern Artists
      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Beyond The Nuts And Bolts

      Apr 18, 2024

      I have just been revising, revamping and tarting-up my 1990 book Portraits of Alien Encounters, which features my investigation of high strangeness encounters and experiences in northern England in the 1970s and early 1980s. A large part of the book

      3 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Look Whos Tolkien Now

      Aug 10, 2022

      Look Whos Tolkien Now
      7 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Alien Encounters

      Nov 4, 2021

      In recent months, the scientific search for extraterrestrial life has been hotting up. Researchers examining data from the 2005 Cassini mission to Saturn have drastically increased the probability that there could be life on one of its moons, Encelad

      4 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      To Hell And Back

      Sep 1, 2022

      The first complete English translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy appeared in 1802, and over the past two centuries, new versions have proliferated beyond count, like Beatles covers or Sherlock Holmes movies. A diverting literary parlor game is to imag

      4 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Classical Corner

      Jan 28, 2021

      Classical Corner
      5 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Fuel Of The Future

      Dec 31, 2019

      Fuel Of The Future
      2 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Tracey Emin’s My Bed

      Oct 3, 2024

      Tracey Emin’s My Bed
      1 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Oldest Maya Temple

      Dec 3, 2020

      Oldest Maya Temple
      1 min read

    • UNLIMITED

      Geralt-a Here!

      Nov 29, 2022

      Geralt-a Here!
      2 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for 7 best short stories by Washington Irving

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      7 best short stories by Washington Irving - Washington Irving

      Publisher

      The Author

      American author, essayist, biographer, historian, and diplomat, Washington Irving was born in New York City in 1783. He is best known for his short stories, The Legend of Sleepy Hollowand Rip Van Winkle, both published in his book, The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent, as seven paper-bound installments between June 23, 1819 and September 13, 1820.

      Irving made his literary debut in 1802, publishing a collection of observational letters under the pseudonym Geoffrey Crayon. He moved to England in 1815 and gained international acclaim with the success of The Sketchbook fo Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.

      Irving was among the first American writers to earn fame in Europe, along with James Fenimore Cooper. Authors Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allan Poe and Herman Melville were among the distinguished authors who benefited from Irving's encouragement.

      Irving died of a heart attack in 1859, eight months after completing his significant biographical series on George Washington. Appropriately enough, Irving was buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.

      The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

      Found among the papers of the late Diedrech 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.

      In 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 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 noontime, 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 marvelous 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 ninefold, 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 time, 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 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 woodmen 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 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 cornfield.

      His schoolhouse was a low building of one large room, rudely constructed of logs; the windows partly glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copybooks. 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 eelpot. The schoolhouse 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 beehive; 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

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1