The Back road, in the Elliott street neighborhood, seventy-five or more years ago, entered a deep gully surrounded on all sides by dense woods. It is possible that this gave the early name of “Drift” road to the highway, as it was a place into which snow could easily drift and cause trouble to travelers. This was a noted spot for highway robberies, many such having occurred here, and the place was long dreaded by those who were compelled to pass this way. The only actual hold-up of which I have heard is said to have occurred in 1856, when four men who came out of the woods from the direction of the Magazine house attempted to rob a passing farmer. What success they had I do not know, but it appears that they were recognized and later arrested. One of these, at least, was a Woodside man, but the names of the others have been forgotten. Tom Coeyman built about sixty years ago at the upper edge of this gully. His house stood near the junction of Summer and Grafton avenues, and this seems to have relieved the gloom of the place, for so far as known there were no robberies after the one mentioned above. NOT A CHRISTMAS CARROLL. Probably before our time the Back road was the dwelling place of “Owney” Carroll and his good wife Peggy. Both were convivial souls, and each a character in his or her way, but our most vivid memories cling about the old lady. One old resident recalls that in his youth the couple lived where now stands the Elliott street school, and that one time when he was passing with a load of wood Peggy was discovered in a somewhat awkward predicament. It seems that one or the other—or possibly both—had been looking on the wine when it was red, as was their custom, and that the husband had concluded that his better half would be improved by a bit of fresh air and, having thrust her forth, locked the door. Now Peggy does not appear to have taken this in good part and, finding an open window, she proceeded to crawl within; but, when about half-sill over, the sash came down on her back and pinned her fast—just as our informant was coming down the road with a load of wood. In the course of years Mrs. Carroll became a sort of attache of our back door, and I have a general recollection that the old lady’s methods did not always meet with the entire approval of my mother. She certainly thoroughly disagreed with one of Peggy’s capers. My mother was a great lover of plants, and among her treasures was a lemon tree which actually bore lemons; these Mrs. Carroll discovered one day while cruising about the back yard and, carefully gathering the treasured crop, she brought the fruit to the back door and tried to sell it to my maternal ancestor. Mrs. Carroll did not call at the house again for some time. THE WOODS OF THE OLD BACK ROAD.