...village is an old one—is upon the side of a steep ascent, and whole ranks of gravestones bow, submissive to the law of gravitation, and no man sets them upright. A quiet, slow little place is East Poultney . Thirty years ago, the people were a little more wide awake, and there were a few more of them. It was a fine spring morning in the year 1826, about ten o'clock, when Mr. Amos Bliss, the manage...