Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1895-11-14
the STORY OF Three old WEu

lK OlUkl W ltkEE uLD WEb
Shortly after the successful issue of ouI
struggle for independence, on a certain
night in the fall of the year, a storm Of
unwonted violence was rioting in the
Catskill Mountains. The wind screamed
rs though in delirium of triumph,
fiinging with tireless sury, the cold rain
over naughty peak and modest valley.
The long, plant arms Of the leatiess noun
tain willows lashed the black night in i'm
potent rage and more than one craggy
mass, loosened from its bond of ages, tore
Its awful way that night through the up
land forest to the sodded level beneath.
Even Mistress Doris, the merry, plump
little widow who supplied the customers
OF the Old Leeds Arms with tales, wines,
spirituous liquors, tobaccos and snuffs,"
even she was out of sorts, for what with
the going out of lanterns and the coming
in Of water through the diamond panes OF
the rickety lattice; what with the smoke
that seemed not to know the purpose of a
chimney, and the coughing and grum-
bling Of the shivering old man in the bar
parlor, her head and hands were busy
enough.
There was something uncanny about
this visitor. An absolute stranger, he
had entered in the height of the storm,
his appearance indicating long foot
Journey, had given his bearskin coat to
the potboy, with an Injunction "to have
IL dried and laid on the bed in the little
room over the the tap" and, without a
question, had gone direct to the parlor.
he looked as ancient as the inn itself, of
which he evidently knew every nook and
corner.
'.Bring me a mug of mulled ale, mis-
tress," he said, land, bark We, Hiram
Cook, the constable. is livin' still, amt
hep"
"Judge Hiram Cook is my father" re-
piled the widow; ''it is many years since
he was constable. He took the wagon to
court this morning; and may not trust the
roads till daylight"
"To COURT" repeated the stranger.
GAY, understand; it will be choice gal
lows fruit-choice gallows fruit" and he
rubbed his skinny hands and blinked his
unnaturally bright eyes at a lively rate.
The gibbet is depressing subject at
times, but to have it linked in an obscure
fashion with ones parent by grinning
old stranger, at the approach of midnight,
with the rain driving at the doors and
windows as though death sought admit
lance, and the tempest moaning dirge,
defines perhaps the limit of endurance.
Mrs. Doris was evidently of this opin-
ion, for, forgetting all about the mulled
ale, she dropped upon the leather couch
and stared at her shriveled guest with the
darkness Of corpse.
'Yes," he laughed, pulling his skeleton
fingers until they Cracked" ''sixty long
years have waited for what tomorrow
viii bring. These hills have been less
patient, for they warrant have changed
since last trod them, while / have known
no change-at least, here!" And he laid
his long fingers over the spot where his
heart should have been. Tomorrow,
he continued, 'this owl they call justice
will awake, and he will hear my curse as
he is dragged to the scaffold !"
"What crime is this ?" exclaimed the
hostess, springing to her feet in the belief
that she was confronting a mad man,
''that you dare to lay at my fathers
door? ?"
'Nay, mistress, it is of Reuben Elliston
] speak. asked if Hiram Cook yet
lived, for it is fitting that he who tied the
silken cord around the murderer's neck
should be the one to take it from his
corpse! Doubtless the final arrange
ments have taken him to town"
''Old Reuben Elliston!"
''Ay," continued the stranger, rising
49, Al
eyes, REUBEN Ellston Even now /
passed the stone house and saw light in
the windows; you dare not tell me he is
dead!"
''Our neighbor has been near the grave
these many years, but death and he are
strangers. Since my earliest recollection
he has lived a life of secluson, but we
grant to age what you would link with
crime"
''Woman!" cried the old man, finging
his hands above his head, "did your
father speak to you of Mercy Douglass the
Scotch girl, whose. services as house
mental were bought by Squire Elliston
from the owners Of the Glasgow packet for
the price of her passage, who ran from
his home and his proffered love, was re-
taken, tied to the scoundrel's horse and
dragged to death among the rocks on this
very road 2"
The question seemed to revive host OF
buried memories. Mrs. Doris remem-
bered that as a child she had listened to
the story of Murder Notch; had seen the
identical rock on which the ghost OF a
beautiful victim was said to sit at mid.
night, two burning tapers in her hands
and sing OF her sad fate. She recalled
how Tom Dorris-rest his soul-long be-
fore he had dreamed of becoming heu
husband--had told her of the spectral
horse which time and again was seen tc
dash up the road as the village clock struck
IL, dragging at his heels the form of 0
lovely woman.
"Ha! your memory Is quickened, mis-
tress !" said the old man, who had mar.
rowly watched her face.
"1'here was such a story when / was
very young" she repld, "but l never
heard it coupled with the name Of Reuber
Elliston. The great war has driven ou
many legend, master. Old Reuber
helped the cause with all he had; he /:
poor and nearly blind now. and folks will
evil tongues should spare their breath"
The strangers eyes glttered with anger
at this rcproof. II feared it would b.
kept from this generation !" he cried
s.Listenl Mercy was to be my bride
Because she would not break her vows h
killed her in his jealous pride. She lie
buried on this farm. He was tried for tn,
crime and sentenced to death by the rope