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Page 32:-
performed in their presence services which should for ever
confine the ghost to the quarry in the wood behind the
Ferry, now called the Crier of Claife. Some say that the
priest conducted the people to the quarry and laid the
ghost,- then and there.- Laid though it be, nobody goes
there at night. It is still told how the foxhounds in eager
chase would come to a full stop at that place; and how,
within the existing generation, a schoolmaster from
Colthouse, who left home to pass the Crier, was never seen
more. Whatever may be said about the repute of ghosts in our
day, it is certain that this particular story is not dead.
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Meantime, the heavy, roomy ferry-boat is ready: the horse is
taken out of the car; and both are shipped. Two or three, or
half-a-dozen people take advantage of the passage: the
rowers, with their ponderous oars, are on the bench; and the
great machine is presently afloat. The Ferry House looks
more tempting than ever when seen from under its own
sycamores,- jutting out as it does between quiet bays on
either hand. The landing takes place on the opposite
promontory: the horse is put to, and the traveller is
presently at his inn. He is ready for his meal (be it tea or
supper) of lake trout or char. The best char are in Coniston
Water: but they are good every where; especially to hungry
travellers, sitting at table within sight of the waters
whence they have just been fished. The potted char of
Coniston is sent, as every epicure knows, to all parts of
the world where men know what is good. As for the trout,
there can be none finer than that of Windermere.
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