Such at that time was Dosoris lane; and, even at the present day, it retains much of its primitive character. The tide of travel, which has found its way to these regions, filling them with the hum of life, seems, in a great measure, to have spared this lane. In earlier times, however, quiet and dream-like as it seemed in the day-time, no spot was more astir than this after night-fall. Elves and spirits, and goblins of all denominations, made it their haunt, and tales of unearthly doings, which had taken place there were rife through the country round. At one time the ghost of a hard-drinking miller was seen galloping up and down the lane, astride of a huge demijohn, which he was spurring like a fiery charger—no doubt, a retaliation for the spur which it had so often applied to him in his life-time—always disappearing at a great oak-tree, at the foot of which he had drank himself to death, and which, in commemoration of that event, is called the drinking-tree to this day. At another time, the ghost of one Billy Cowles, who had died long before of asthma, and was buried in a small graveyard at the head of the lane, was seen patrolling the place. It was generally rumored that he was in search of breath, as he wheezed as he hurried along, and was always seen with his coat open, his shirt-collar thrown back, and an old cravat in his hand. These, and a number of other characters of the same kidney, made this vicinity their rendezvous, and many a weird prank and gambol were carried on there, until the place gained an evil name; wayfarers began to take a wide circuit to avoid its fated neighborhood; the grass began to grow in its wagon-track, and bold, indeed, was he who would venture to brave its perils after night-fall.
Just about this time, the place fell under the domination of one Parson Woolsey, a stern old clergyman and a large landholder, who looked narrowly after his own interests, and kept the whole country round in wholesome subjection. Neither ghost nor man was permitted to cross his path; loud prayer exorcised the former, and a strong arm, a long purse, and a rigid determination to enforce his own rights, kept the latter in his place.
The resolute old clergyman carried matters with a high hand until he died. He was buried under the shade of his own forests, where
