Another man once ran against a cow in the Gully road one dark night and was considerably worked up over the adventure for the moment. The unfortunate part of it was that he lingered long enough to discover that it was a cow, else we might have had another story of these darksome terrors. The horns and hoofs were there, and all that was needed was a little more imagination and not quite so much practicality. But not all the stories of the Gully road are of such fearful things as these. It was a way of surpassing beauty when lighted by the sun, and a lover’s lane that fairly blossomed with loving couples on pleasant Sunday afternoons, when the sighing of the wind in the trees was but an echo of the happy sighs below. Many a life contract has been signed, sealed and delivered within its confines; in fact I have heard of one youth who proposed on the way back from a boat race, the romantic influence of the place with its glamor of shady nooks being quite too much for his equanimity. GHOST OF A BRITISH SPY. Then there was the English spy who, legend says, was captured by a party of Americans and promptly hanged on the limb of a large tree that stood at the bend of the road. His ghost was for long a sad handicap to the neighborhood and, singular as it may seem, he is said to have played his wildest pranks with those who placed the greatest faith in him. But since the spread of the Mount Pleasant Cemetery down toward his abode little or nothing has been heard of his doings. One theory is that of late he has come within the orbits of so many other ghosts, but of a more respectable and orderly character, that he has become inextricably tangled, much as is reported of wireless messages when many amateurs assault the air. HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT. About fifty years ago Henry William Herbert, who wrote under the name of Frank N. Forrester, resided on the river bank within the present limits of the cemetery, his place being known as “The Cedars”. A queer, romantic figure about which much of fiction as well as truth has been woven. To Mr. Boyden and others, whose youth was spent about here, this strange figure was a familiar sight, for the recluse used almost daily to walk down town, his shoulders enveloped in a shawl, and always with a troop of dogs at his heels. Those who so remember him rather resent the fact that his brawls have been made much of and his virtues neglected by such as write of him, for they recall him as an attractive man and pleasant companion with many kindly qualities. Herbert generally made a call at the Black Horse tavern which then stood at the “Stone Bridge”, and after a short stay would continue on to the Park House. He was apt to be brusque with those he did not like, and when “beyond his depth” through too great conviviality inclined to be ugly when opposed.