THE RIDE ON THE GRAVESTONE

A Ghost Story and Folk Tale from Russia

  Late one evening a certain artisan happened to be returning
  home from a jovial feast in a distant village. There met him
  on the way an old friend, one who had been dead some ten
  years.

  "Good health to you!" said the dead man.

  "I wish you good health!" replied the reveller, and straight
  way forgot that his acquaintance had ever so long ago bidden
  the world farewell.

  "Let's go to my house. We'll quaff a cup or two once
  more."

  "Come along. On such a happy occasion as this meeting
  of ours, we may as well have a drink."

  They arrived at a dwelling and there they drank and revelled.

  "Now then, good-bye! It's time for me to go home," said
  the artisan.

  "Stay a bit. Where do you want to go now? Spend the night
  here with me."

  "No, brother! don't ask me; it cannot be. I've business
  to do to-morrow, so I must get home as early as possible."

  "Well, good-bye! but why should you walk? Better get on
  my horse; it will carry you home quickly."

  "Thanks! let's have it."

  He got on its back, and was carried off--just as a whirlwind
  flies! All of a sudden a cock crew. It was awful! All around
  were graves, and the rider found he had a gravestone under
  him!