The first townsman I saw directed me to the place.
"Follow the turnpike," said he.

"'Sa mild or more--straight ahead.
You'll know it when y' git there.

'S' queer place an' stan's off by itself." The man was going my way, evidently to begin his day's work, for it was then early in the morning, and I walked along with him.
"Folks say," he continued, "them grounds is full of hejious reptyles, an' I've heerd fellers tell queer things they've seen when passin' there at night--red lights a-flyin' about an' spooks at the winders.

An' one night, when Uncle Bill Jemson was comin' down the turnpike, they was a storm come up, an' jest as he got opposite the big iron gate they was a flash a lightnin'-- an' Bill says he see the ole man, his long white hair a-flyin' in th' wind, an' a lion standin' there in front a th' house.
Th' flash was out'n a minit, an' Bill whipped up his hosses an' sent em clear to Mills' tavern on the dead run," said he, laughing as if it were a good joke.
"They don't nobody like th' place ner th' man, though I don' know why, fer no one's ever passed a word with him in these parts.

There 'tis, over yender with the pines around it an' th' high wall," said he, pointing with his finger.