For, as if things were going too far, Beethoven took hold of the goblins and made them do what he wanted.
He blew with his mouth for the second time, and again the goblins were scattered.
Haven't you heard ever since you were a child, that he WAS carried away by the goblins, and don't you know he was?'
'He WAS carried away by goblins, Pickwick; and there's an end of the matter.'
This road leads through a sandy hollow shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church.
For a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath passed across his mind, --for it was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his haunches; and (unskilful rider that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse's backbone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleave him asunder.
Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him.
It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York on a visit several years after, and from whom this account of the ghostly adventure was received, brought home the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood partly through fear of the goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress; that he had changed his quarters to a distant part of the country; had kept school and studied law at the same time; had been admitted to the bar; turned politician; electioneered; written for the newspapers; and finally had been made a justice of the ten pound court.
As it died away, the Great Bell, or the Goblin of the Great Bell, spoke.
'Never done us foul, and false, and wicked wrong, in words?' pursued the Goblin of the Bell.
'Who puts into the mouth of Time, or of its servants,' said the Goblin of the Bell, 'a cry of lamentation for days which have had their trial and their failure, and have left deep traces of it which the blind may see--a cry that only serves the present time, by showing men how much it needs their help when any ears can listen to regrets for such a past--who does this, does a wrong.
'Who hears us echo the dull vermin of the earth: the Putters Down of crushed and broken natures, formed to be raised up higher than such maggots of the time can crawl or can conceive,' pursued the Goblin of the Bell; 'who does so, does us wrong.