That family of
Elliotts has always been more stubborn than natteral.
Marshall's brother Alexander had a dog he set great
store by, and when it died the man actilly wanted to
have it buried in the graveyard, `along with the other
Christians,' he said. Course, he wasn't allowed to; so
he buried it just outside the graveyard fence, and
never darkened the church door again. But Sundays he'd
drive his family to church and sit by that dog's grave
and read his Bible all the time service was going on.
They say when he was dying he asked his wife to bury
him beside the dog; she was a meek little soul but she
fired up at THAT. She said SHE wasn't going to be
buried beside no dog, and if he'd rather have his last
resting place beside the dog than beside her, jest to
say so. Alexander Elliott was a stubborn mule, but he
was fond of his wife, so he give in and said, `Well,
durn it, bury me where you please. But when Gabriel's
trump blows I expect my dog to rise with the rest of
us, for he had as much soul as any durned Elliott or
Crawford or MacAllister that ever strutted.
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