Incidentally I inquired regarding an old excavation which I had noticed
on the hill near an unfrequented road. This excavation had apparently
once served for a cellar, although most of the stones had been removed,
and the sheep easily ran down its now sloping and grassy sides. In close
proximity was a deep well, over the top of which had been placed a huge,
flat stone. Overshadowing both cellar and well were three ancient elms,
storm-beaten and lightning-cleft, but still standing as if to guard the
very solitude which was unbroken save by the tinkling bell, which told
whither the farmer's flock was straying. From Mr. Thompson I learned the
history connected with this scene.
Twenty years before he was born, his father's folks saw, one morning in
March, a smoke curling above the tops of the elms which were just
visible over the brow of the hill. Quickly going to the scene, they
found the house burned to the ground. The occupants were an old man,
named Peter Colburn, and his wife; and they, together with a traveller,
who had obtained lodging there for the night, were all burned with the
house. The stranger's horse and saddle were found in the barn, some
little distance from the house, but there was no clew to his identity.
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