Speaking softly, acting kindly, Hiding all his evil customs, Seemed a decent sort of fellow. Hinted marriage was his object, But Elizabeth refused him, So he went away to Colebrook, Went to Colebrook by the River-- Lovely Colebrook where the forests And the meadows swarmed with partridge, Rabbit, quail and merry squirrel. When the early Colebrook settlers Built their cabins in the valley, In the Colebrook River valley, In the year of seventeen seventy, Through the woodlands roamed the panther, Looking downward from the branches, Seeking unsuspecting quarry. Shyly midst the gloomy shadows Catamounts were ever hiding. On the steep and rocky mountains, Bordered on the river valley, Bears were lurking midst the ledges. Nightly through the winding valley, Rang the howling of the wolf-pack, Tracking deer along the meadows. Pussy-footing through the woodlands, Seeking mice and other rodents, Were the wild cats, sleek and furry. Here and there the busy beavers Built their dams and cozy houses On the river tributaries. To this land of wild abundance In the year of eighteen forty, Came the wary son of Mossock, Built his shack against a boulder On the side of Corliss Mountain, Fearing not the forest creatures, Or the shadows in the night time, Fearing not the bears and wild cats. Sly and crafty was this Indian, Sly and crafty like his father, Double talking with his neighbors, Hardy, early Colebrook settlers, Busy in their little village, Busy building shops and houses, Building meeting house and school house, Busy making cloth of cotton, By the sparkling Colebrook River. There the busy store and tavern, Where the people spent their money. On the turnpike through the village, Daily rolled the heavy stage coach, Mail and people coming, going By the sparkling Colebrook River. Union Church, no longer needed For the Sunday prayer and sermon, Soon became the village center Where the people met for business, Where the people met for pleasure. All the school was filled with children, Ninety children in the school house, Happy Colebrook River children Playing daily by the road side. On each holy, Sabbath morning, All the church was filled with people. Friends and neighbors prayed together, Asking God to bless their children, Praying to God to bless their village By the sparkling Colebrook River. 41. MURDER OF BARNICE WHITE. So Uncle Barnice White was slain, "For a dead man tells no stories," While Henry waited in the rain, "Tells no stories--tells no stories." To Manassa's little shelter, Built against a mighty boulder, On the side of Corliss Mountain, Nightly came Manassa's comrades, Wayward youth then dwelling near him, Balcomb, Co'bb, Calhoun and Calburn, Talking, gambling, drinking cider, While Manassa, sly and crafty, Spoke of plans for raising money, "Plenty money and no working," Saying, "Lo! The Tollgate Keeper, Barnice White, has plenty money From his cider mills and brandy, From the Tollgate on the Turnpike,"