Sad their faces as they listen
To the story of Manassa
In his shack against the boulder
On the side of Corliss Mountain,
Drinking brandy with his comrades,
Balcomb, Cobb, Calhoun and Calburn.
Sad their faces as they listen
To the story of Manassa
Singing, while he drank and gambled,—
"Have you heard the ancient saying,
How a dead man tells no stories,
Tells no stories, tells no stories,
How a dead man tells no stories?"
Sad their faces as they listen
To the story of the murder
Of the aged Tollgate Keeper,
Barnice White of Colebrook River,
On that fearful night of horror,
In the year of eighteen fifty.
To the school at Colebrook River,
Where the happy children gather,
As the years are rolling onward,
Daily Barnice White's descendants
Come to study with the others,
Ever dreaming, looking backward
To that awful night of horror.
Up and down the Colebrook River,
In the homesteads of the people,
And across the wooded hill-sides,
Where they labor in the forests,
Still this ancient story lingers
Like a mist upon the river,
Like a shadow on the mountain.
42. DEATH OF ELIZABETH.
The cabin home was bare and cold,
And the winter winds were howling,
When Elizabeth, all sick and old,
Died at night, alone in darkness.
Few the people on the hill-side,
As the years went rolling onward,
Yet, Elizabeth still lingered
In the ancient Chaugham cabin,
Saw the village growing smaller,
For the people were departing.
Saw deserted cabins falling,
And the growing desolation
On the side of Ragged Mountain.
Few the people in the village,
In the little Indian village,
Founded by her kindly parents,
In the year of seventeen forty.