222 OUR WOODLAND TREES. 
in question, impatient of restraint, and unwilling 
to wait until the solemn strokes of the midnight 
bell, echoing amongst the tombstones, should give 
the signal for their release, had wandered pre- 
maturely forth. In any case our wayfarer would 
have seen a dozen shadowy forms, each accom- 
panied by Will-o’-the-Wisp—who is the usual 
companion of the midnight ghost, and ubiquitous 
when the occasion demands, and the shades are 
many—directing their steps away from church- 
yard and village towards the solitary glades of 
Epping Forest, as if with the intention of dancing 
for a brief space amongst the leaves which lay 
‘wither’d and strewn’ beneath the Trees. But 
whatever their intention, the destination of this 
silent party of midnight wanderers was un- 
doubtedly the forest. Slowly and mysteriously 
they left the village, which was soon lost in the 
winding road that led on to the verge of the 
bosky expanse, stretching away for miles into 
the still night. Had our wayfarer stolen quietly 
in the rear of the ghostly party he would, on 
quitting the village, have noticed that they were 
following the high road which would take 
