Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1880-10-12
Portland Transcript
TWO IN WHITE AND ONE IN
BLACK.
BI ELLA NJ. =. MARBLE.

We were approaching Moosehead Lake
when one evening, just at twilight, we
drove up TO one Of those haunts of desc
lation known as country tavern. Il
stood in one of the corners formed by the
crossing OF two roads, while opposite stood
the smoke -bcgrimed one story store
The other corners were ornamented ( by
the blacksmith 5 shop and red schoolhouse,
and here and there, scattered about in an
irregular, tired sort Of fashion, were nu-
merous dwelling houses. |, was one OF
those villages which made il easy for US
to imagine the first settler as an easy-go-
ing, loose join,ed ne'er- do-well, who set
tied there because he was too shiftless TO
go farther.
The Tavern, was painted red once,
bu, solitary patch, here and there, alone
remains to testify to the original hue
The low piazza once had an even floor,
probably. but the action of frost and sun
have so disturbed its foundation as to
make it positively necessary to give
heed to your footsteps. -
The summer evenings were cool-al-
mos, chilly-but no sign of fire or warmth
greeted us as we entered that little dark
parlor.
When left alone, walked across the
bare floor, which gave back hollow ring,
seated myself in high, rail-back rock
ing chair. and faced the "mantletree-
shelf" with It's long, straight row OF fad
ing ambro,ypes. | felt that ! was in the
presence of the dead each moment grew
more and more oppressed, and turning for
relief to the one center-table (which, by
the way, was pushed firmly into one
corner, | found only sea. shells, patent
office reports, and memoirs. As turned
to tip toe reverently back to my seat, |
heard approaching footsteps, and the door
opened to admit tall, large-framed wo-
man, with a head singularly dispropor-
tionate, for it was small, and her features
regular and refined IN expression. Upon
her face was stamped placid, motherly
look, which made you comfortable at
once, and perfectly at home with her.
The landlady. for it was she, came for
ward briskly, and, clasping my hand, said
cordially:
Bless me, why did son John put YOU
in here: Do come right out into the
keeping room and get warm. My John
thinks he must put the high toned CON-
pany into this room if they do freeze to
death"
DO not know that | answered, or
thanked her for my rescue, for her voice
had struck me dumb II must have been
the result of touch of palsy. though |
never heard anything like it before or
since Draw the tremolo of your parlor-
organ, and play softly in the twilight. l
can think Of no better medium through
which to convey my impressions, and this
falls short.
While the vibrations of that singular
voice still thrilled me, | found myself in
the keeping room" as she SO quantity
called it, where the huge, old fashioned
fireplace. piled high with cracking logs,
was sending out volumes of heat and
glory.
Anxiously desirous of entertaining, the
dear old lady told me story after story,
falling easily into the trap which set
for her with the most innocent seeming
questions Feeling sure that this ramb-
ling old house must have story lingering
among its many shadows, | led her to
speak of its history, and Of its former pro-
prietor.
Yes" she said, musingly, ''they tel
a good many strange stories in these parts,
but none stranger than the story of the
last landlord and his three wives. Would
YOU like to hear about it!
assured her that should listen with
the greatest pleasure, and settling myself
comfortably in the big armchair, lis
tened to the following story:
"A good many years ago, Elihu Graf
ton, and his wife Liza, came down from