Many of the front yards were adorned with huge wood-piles. A part of the street was a swamp, through which ran a crooked water course that, after a shower, left pools of mud, in which pigs and cattle cooled themselves, for “The Green” was also a cattle pasture. The story is told of a dignified gentleman of the old school, who, dressed in immaculate white on a summer Sunday, was hastening across “The Green” to church, making his way among the puddles, when a large hog, frightened from a pool, ran violently against him. He had an unsought ride on its back across the street, and was deposited in a puddle, in full view of the waiting congregation gathered on the church steps. In 1838 the open-paved watercourse through “The Green” was constructed and was regarded as a grand improvement. The Village Improvement Society as organized in 1871, [Illustration: JEHIEL WILLIAMS, M. D. An early and beloved physician. B. 1782, d. 1862.] and, a little later, under its auspices, “The Green” was put in its present attractive condition, a covered brick sewer being laid to replace the open-paved watercourse which previously ran through the center of the street. This was accomplished on the initiative, and largely though the instrumentality, of Mr. and Mrs. William D. Black, whose efforts and energies were always directed for the benefit of the village. A large and successful fair to raise money for this purpose was held in a tent on “The Green” in July, 1872, and the residents of Main Street accepted a voluntary assessment of a large amount to perfect the work. A familiar and welcome sight of long ago was the village doctor on horseback with his saddlebags. He was the friend of everyone, beloved and venerated next to the minister. His store of huge pills and herbs and simples carried healing and comfort to all the countryside. Dr. Jehiel Williams was the last of these old-time doctors in New Milford. He is still remembered by many with reverent tenderness. His kindness knew no bounds, and his hearty laugh carried cheer wherever he went. A cautious man he was. Even his most cherished opinions were always prefaced with “I ’most guess.” He was cautious also in his remedies, and the overworked woman of this busy age would hardly accept his cure for nerves and sleeplessness: “Take a hop, put it in a teacup and fill the cup with hot water. Drink it at night and I ’most guess you will feel better.” It was whispered that his huge pills were often made of bread, when he felt none were needed. He rode up and down the hills for a lifetime, charging twenty-five cents for a visit, fifty cents when the journey was long--afterwards sixty-two and a half cents! On one occasion he rode five miles to find that his patient had been already relieved by some housewife’s simple remedy. He declined any fee, merely saying, “What I have learned in this cure is worth far more to me than the trouble of coming.”