Old Mrs. Holt walking down the Gully road one night saw, standing in the darkest shadow, an old fashioned undertaker’s wagon, and hearing voices of men, stepped back among the bushes out of harm’s way. Soon she saw three men against the night sky standing on the high ground of the cemetery. One carried a lantern while the other two had a long bundle shrouded in white. He with the lantern stopped on the ridge, while the others kept down the slope. Now they lifted their bundle to the top of the fence where one man steadied it while the other climbed over. When both were over the body was taken down and placed in the wagon. The man on the hill, whose voice Mrs. Holt recognized, called good-night to the men in the road and they responded as the wagon rapidly drove toward Newark.
THE DEVIL IN THE GULLY ROAD.
How John Thompson saw the Devil in the Gully road was once told by himself in a moment of great confidence, for ordinarily he would never speak of the adventure.
About ’68 or ’69 John worked for Mr. Melius on the River road, and it was noticed that when called on to drive down town after dusk for his employer he invariably went the long way round—Grafton and Washington avenues—and when coming back with Mr. M. he would shut his mouth the moment they entered within the dark precincts of the Gully and say never a word until they were well beyond the black shadow of its overhanging trees.
It seems that John was originally a river man and that he sailored under Captain Nichols, whose profanity was one of his notable points; he had a varied assortment of swear-words and a proficiency in their use that made the efforts of ordinary mortals pale into insignificance.
For some reason not explained the schooner was held up in Newark one day, and as the Captain lived in Belleville there was nothing for it but to walk home. John Thompson went along for, of course, neither one of the seamen thought much of the storm that was raging, even if the rain did come down in torrents which soaked them through.
It certainly did look dark and creepy to John as he peered into the black hole of the Gully road, and though he was himself a gentleman of color and matched up with a dark night first rate, he ever fancied daylight for such places, but the Captain went plunging on into the shadows and John could but follow.
The Captain had used up his stock of cuss-words, and while in the very darkest part of the tunnel commenced all over again and was going fine when a sudden, blinding flash of lightning discovered to John, who was in the rear, a third man walking between them and chuckling every time the Captain swore. Before the light went out John saw that the man was dressed like a parson and that his clothes appeared to be dry in spite of the heavy downpour. A second flash showed a most alarming state of things: the stranger was on fire, smoke or steam was escaping from every crevice, but still he chuckled as the Captain ripped out all manner of strange oaths, and did not seem to pay any attention to his own internal combustion; even in the dark his glee could be heard bubbling forth, nor could the pounding of the storm drown it. By this time the Captain’s attention was also attracted, and when a third flash enabled them to see that their unknown companion had hoofs their worst suspicions were realized and both men broke and ran for Belleville as fast as two pairs of scared legs could carry them, while the Devil laughed long and loud at their dismay.
A LOVER’S LANE.
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.