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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76814 ***
+
+                      Ghosts in the Great War
+                               and
+                           True Tales
+                           of Haunted
+                             Houses
+
+           Thrilling Experiences of “Daily News” Readers
+
+                    Edited by S. Louis Giraud
+
+
+                             LONDON
+             FLEETGATE PUBLICATIONS (“Daily News” Books Dept.),
+               Lombard Lane, Bouverie Street, E.C.4.
+
+
+   The full list of books in this series is as follows:
+
+   No. 1. TRUE GHOST STORIES.
+         Told by _Daily News_ Readers.
+
+   No. 2. WARNINGS FROM BEYOND.
+         Signs, Visions and Premonitions told
+         by readers of the _Daily News_, con-
+         taining:
+            Strange Warnings and Premonitions.
+            Inexplicable Experiences.
+            Remarkable Stories of Ghosts of the
+            Living.
+            Visions of those who have Passed Over.
+            Promised Signs from the Dead.
+            Extraordinary Experiences related by
+            Nurses.
+            Strange Visions of Animals.
+            “Tall” Stories.
+            Some Stories with a Sequel.
+
+   No. 3. UNCANNY STORIES.
+         Weird happenings to _Daily News_
+         readers.
+         Some Ghostly things explained.
+
+   No. 4. GHOSTS IN THE GREAT WAR
+         AND
+         TRUE TALES OF HAUNTED HOUSES.
+         Thrilling Experiences of _Daily News_
+         readers.
+         ——————
+
+   On sale everywhere, or can be procured direct
+   from the publishers :——FLEETGATE PUBLICATIONS
+   (_Daily News_ Books Dept.), Lombard Lane, Bouverie
+   Street, London, E.C. 4.
+
+***
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+The subject of Ghosts and Ghostly happenings has always aroused a vast
+amount of interest, much fear, some amusement and varying degrees of
+ridicule, but in recent years the names of so many prominent and
+influential people have been directly associated with it and used in
+support of the existence of spiritual intercourse that it has become
+worthy of a careful examination. This fact, and the reported
+reappearance of the “brown lady” of Raynham Hall, the home of the
+Marquis Townshend, in the latter part of last year, led the Editor
+of the Home Magazine Page of the Daily News, in co-operation with
+the Publishers of this book to invite readers to give their
+experiences in this matter. In extending this invitation the Daily
+News, in its issue of November 6th, 1926, stated:
+
+“A vast number of people do believe in ghosts—many on the most
+inadequate evidence. But up and down the country, in lonely farms,
+in quiet suburban roads, in London flats—in fact, wherever the
+living dwell and the dead have dwelt, there are people who fully
+believe that they have seen mysterious apparitions, sometimes
+uncanny, sometimes not even uncanny, strange noises unaccountable by
+any human agency known to the witness. And these agencies they
+believe to be ghosts.
+
+"Let us find out what these occurrences amount to. We ask our
+readers, in the interests of sober truth, to tell us of the stories
+which are authentically within their own knowledge—not the feverish
+traditional stories of the countryside, but the sights and sounds
+which they themselves have seen and heard, or which their friends and
+neighbours have seen and heard, and which have convinced them that
+ghosts really exist.
+
+“Many will hesitate because the story they have to tell, though
+inexplicable, seems so futile; but futility is often characteristic
+of the real living contemporary ghost story as distinguished from the
+blood-curdling romance handed down from the past, with dripping hands
+and clanking chains."
+
+As a small recognition of the service rendered by the writers of
+these experiences, a daily prize was given by the Daily News for the
+first ghost story published each day during the appearance of the
+correspondence. It was also announced that it was felt that this
+important body of evidence on a subject of continual controversy
+should not be lost, and, therefore, the Publishers of this book
+undertook to gather into book form the best of the stories, and to
+equally divide a further sum of £20 in prizes to the authors of the
+ten best stories used in this way.
+
+It was then thought that one book would be adequate for the
+presentation of these selected stories, but the response to the Daily
+News invitation was so enormous, that no less than four books of most
+extraordinary stories are now completed and published, and the awards
+have been increased to £40.
+
+The Editor of these books has read through every story received—some
+three thousand in all—and endeavoured to classify them and then group
+the various phases of the subject under appropriate titles. It has
+been a tremendous undertaking, and the work has occupied several
+months. Every selected story has been reproduced without alteration
+of fact, and in almost every case the actual wording of the stories
+has been adhered to.
+
+The task of scrutinising this vast amount of matter could be done by
+only one person where the merits of each story were to be judged for
+the purpose of awarding prizes. And that single-handed task had its
+compensations as well as its trials, because it yielded a
+comprehensive survey that could not have been accomplished by
+collaboration.
+
+The outstanding feature of this examination was the total absence of
+the really horrible stories of Ghosts that have been served out to
+the public from time to time. There was no lack of extraordinary
+incidents, as the stories which we now reproduce will show; and
+generally there was a wholesome respect for the nature of the great
+subject under consideration. Most of the stories prove honesty of
+purpose on the part of the narrators, and the fact that the writers
+of some of the most striking occurrences represent every class, from
+the poor and unlettered, to those well-placed in the world, is an
+indication that the subject of Ghosts or Spirits has an amazing
+interest for the public. Reverend Gentlemen, Magistrates,
+Professional Men, Nurses, all figure in the list of those whose
+stories we reproduce, and the nature of the great majority of the
+letters received indicates a desire for serious inquiry rather than a
+mere relation of something to excite or frighten.
+
+All those stories which showed abnormal temperament—and there were
+many of those—have been carefully excluded in the preparation of these
+books, but full advantage has been taken of the stories which were
+sent to explain away strange happenings and to relieve the ghostly
+atmosphere with healthy humour.
+
+We make no claim to attempt to answer the question “Do Ghosts
+exist? ”; we simply present in the most careful manner the best
+incidents out of the many sent to us in support of the Ayes and Nos,
+and to the many who have experienced inexplicable manifestations and
+await an explanation, we can only say that unless such can be gleaned
+from the sequels to supposed Ghostly happenings with which this
+collection of stories is interspersed, we are afraid this great
+subject has not yet been sufficiently investigated to yield them
+complete satisfaction.
+
+One thing this vast amount of correspondence has proved is, that
+while the least temperamental of us may scoff at the idea of Ghosts,
+and the humorously inclined may find it a happy sporting ground for
+the exercise of wit, there is something which surrounds the lives of
+a large number of apparently sane and decent-living people, that
+cannot be analysed as we are used to analysing things in this modern
+age. And this something is sufficiently diversified to arouse in
+those who are not immune from it feelings varying in degrees between
+the two extremes of uncontrollable dread and deep reverence. To have
+accomplished this alone would have been a complete justification for
+the preparation and publication of these books, but we hope something
+further will be accomplished, namely, to prove the futility, if not
+the danger, of putting on the market literature on this subject of
+such an extravagant nature that it not only injures in its undue
+infliction of terror those who read it, but detrimentally affects the
+merits of a subject which, to those who are interested in it, has as
+many claims to investigation as Wireless or any other subject of
+equally uncanny surprises and possibilities.
+
+Having thus dealt with the main aspects of this correspondence, there
+are two matters which must not be overlooked: one is a protest that
+was included in the correspondence—a protest against the publication
+of these Ghost stories, and the other the very emphatic “No” which is
+given by several writers to the question “Do you believe in Ghosts?”
+
+Below we give in full the protest referred to, and also the principal
+“Nos.” The former, we believe, is sufficiently answered in the
+foregoing remarks, and the latter constitute another interesting
+phase of this very interesting subject.
+
+For the information of those who may desire to secure the whole of
+the four books in this series or any particular one dealing with a
+special phase of the subject, a full description is given on the back
+of the title page of this book.
+
+The fact that the names and addresses of the writers of these stories
+have been withheld, and also names of people and places mentioned in
+the stories, must not be regarded as a reflection upon the truth of
+the story or the honesty of the writer; it is essential in the best
+interests of everybody.
+
+It should also be mentioned that in the case of those stories which
+are set out under headings of Counties or Towns it does not follow
+that the incidents related always apply to the Town or County under
+which they appear; they mostly indicate the place from which the
+story was received.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+
+The stories for which prizes have been awarded are as follows:—
+
+Book No. 1. TRUE GHOST STORIES.
+
+• Old Mother Bishop.
+• Out of the Everywhere.
+• A Strange S.O.S.
+• Jeanie Passes By.
+• Saved by the Supernatural.
+• A Child's Vision, and Experiences in Later Life.
+• A Convincing Experience.
+• A Horrible End.
+• The Wail of a Snail.
+• Late News.
+
+Book No. 2. WARNINGS FROM BEYOND.
+
+• Strange Warnings and Premonitions.
+• Saved by His Child.
+• A Persistent Warning.
+• A Startling Vision.
+• Why I Am Convinced.
+• Inexplicable Experiences.
+• An Unseen Menace.
+• The Phantom Organist.
+• Remarkable Stories of Ghosts of the Living.
+• A Strange Vision.
+• A Life-saving Vision.
+• Grandmother's Call.
+• Extraordinary Experiences Related by Nurses.
+• The White Friar.
+• A Wandering Spirit.
+
+Tall Stories.
+
+• The “Tallest” of the “Tall.”
+• That Was a Good Race.
+• The Musician's Ghost.
+
+Strange Visions of Animals.
+
+• The Dying Sealyham.
+
+Book No. 3. UNCANNY STORIES.
+
+• ‘One Tid 'E Get Out?
+• In the Quiet of the Night.
+• A Gruesome Treasurer.
+• The Butterfly Ghost.
+• Saved by His Own Ghost.
+• A Photographic Mystery.
+• The Flying Dutchman.
+• A Strange Vision and Its Sequel.
+
+Book No. 4. GHOSTS IN THE GREAT WAR AND HAUNTED HOUSES.
+
+• A Pal in Life and Death.
+• The Morning of the Ypres Big Push.
+• Is there an Explanation?
+• A Dream or a Ghost?
+• An Evil Presence.
+• A Strange Story.
+• Was It a Curse!
+
+LETTERS REFERRED TO IN INTRODUCTION.
+
+Dear Sirs,—Noting that this correspondence is transferred to you, I
+venture to think that I can subscribe interesting matter for the
+subject.
+
+Born seventy-three years ago and passing my early youth in the
+country, it will be understood that story telling was a regular
+feature of spending evenings, and the “ghostly” variety was very
+prevalent, so much that my young mind was saturated with that
+nonsense, and to such an extent that life for me after the passing of
+daylight was a burden. In the dark I fancied seeing ghostly shapes
+and hearing ghostly sounds everywhere. An elder sister who was
+similarly affected and, to some extent, my mother, were the only
+persons who knew of my sufferings, as I would have been subject to
+ridicule from others, who, however, no doubt had a touch of the
+disease themselves. I remember my mother hushing the “entertainer”
+when children were present, and trying to divert the talk into other
+channels.
+
+Then happily came the cure. Somehow a book came into my hand
+(probably borrowed by me or for me). I do not remember its title. It
+may have been “Ghosts Laid Bare,” “The Inexplicable Explained,” or
+“Common Sense Versus Superstition.” It was ghost stories again, just
+as I had heard them (with variation) and quite in line with what the
+otherwise generally intelligent Daily News has been serving us, but
+with this difference, that after each tale a natural explanation of
+it was given. It must have been done very well, fully intelligible
+for my about thirteen years’ mind. The effect was remarkable. I saw
+how I had been fooled, and to my intense relief was cured of all
+fear.
+
+You will therefore understand that unless your intended book of Ghost
+Stories or Uncanny Incidents is to be on the same line, that is an
+anti-dose after each dose of poison, I for one condemn it in advance.
+
+I note that it is not all “real” ghost stories, “The Silken Ghost,”
+for example, with its explanations on the line of what I have said of
+the cure book. “The Picture in the Fire” also, but that is so
+evidently “made up” that it has no place anywhere, least of all among
+the prize winners.
+
+As to footsteps on the stairs and “mysterious” slamming of doors, I
+have heard that often as it happens in my own house, but prefer to
+believe they come from the adjoining house and in a natural manner
+rather than in the ghost inventor's ways. And why should ghosts
+necessarily make noises—and ordinary, natural, commonplace noises to
+boot?
+
+So please stop frightening our children. Leave the ghost culture to
+the savages, where they originate, and if occasions occur give them a
+hand to get over that damned superstition. Yours truly, W. C.
+
+This was not meant for publication, but why not? I am sure it is far
+superior to anything else that will appear in your book and ought to
+have first prize.
+
+The following story is true, down to the minutest detail. One night I
+had a dream and saw an angel bending over me and folding his wings in
+a protective manner about my sleeping form. So vivid was the dream
+that I awoke—not altogether in dread because the face and posture of
+the angel held nothing but kindness, love and protection.
+
+When I awoke, however, the vision did not fade just at once, and I
+made a cry of awe and, probably, of fear. This awoke my husband and
+he gently reassured me and soothed me, and, not to disturb him
+further, I calmed myself to sleep, determined to say nothing of my
+dream till next day.
+
+After lunch on the following day, therefore, when we were having our
+customary half-hour's rest and chat, I opened the subject of the
+dream, and was about to relate it when he stopped me, saying he was
+sure he had seen my dream, and begged me to let him relate the dream
+first. I did so, and was much amazed that he had seen my dream
+exactly as I had done, and could relate the appearance and attitude
+of the angel in every particular. Did either of us think we had seen
+a ghost or apparition? Neither of us thought so.
+
+The truth of the matter was that my dream had been so vivid and real
+that even after I awoke the impression of the vision was still on my
+brain and took a little time to fade away, and my husband's sympathy
+was so alive to my distress, and his mind as much in tune with mine,
+that my mind, as it were, photographed to his mind the vision which I
+saw.
+
+Such happenings as these are merely scientific, not supernatural; but
+in this case both my husband and myself would probably think we had
+seen a ghost had it not been that our education had led us into
+scientific studies in face of which we knew we had not seen a ghost.
+The present day vogue in spiritualism and kindred subjects, which
+shows the God of Love and the Creator of the Universe as a
+small-minded creature who amuses Himself frightening us poor mortals,
+is nothing but pure ignorance, and deserves to be put down as such.
+To try to get into touch with the Almighty by such trickery, for
+instance, as table-rapping, is simply blasphemy.
+
+I do not believe in ghosts, except as the result of our own
+imaginations. In “Hamlet” (Act III., Scene IV.), when the ghost
+enters, only Hamlet sees it. His mother, the Queen, not seeing it,
+thinks him mad. That ghost is merely one conjured up by Hamlet's
+imagination. By continually thinking about, and brooding over, the
+fact that he has not yet avenged his father's murder, the accusing
+ghost appears to him. After he has explained matters to his mother,
+she rightly says: “This is the very coinage of your brain, this
+bodiless creation.” Similarly, Brutus alone is visited by the ghost
+of Caesar. Only Macbeth sees the ghost of Banquo in his place at the
+table, and says, “The table's full.” Lennox, with surprise, replies,
+“Here's a place reserved, sir.”
+
+During my lifetime I have seen only one of these ghosts of the
+imagination. During the last year of the Great War (I was only eight
+years old), there were many horrible stories in circulation among my
+schoolfellows about the Kaiser. What an effect they had on my
+imagination! I could go nowhere in the dark alone. Even when
+accompanied, I saw awful phantoms: sometimes bold and prominent,
+sometimes misty and indistinct, but always with spiked helmets—and
+always Kaisers! As soon as it grew dark my life was a perfect misery.
+I was thankful I did not sleep alone. When the war ended these ghosts
+gradually faded and, again, I could venture in the dark alone!
+
+I am sure that people imagine the ghosts they see in lonely woods and
+on lonely heaths. The weird noises they hear are natural—perhaps
+magnified by their imaginations. Even when not magnified, the sighing
+and shrieking of the wind in the trees and the mournful hootings of
+the owl are very eerie!
+
+I am only a working woman, and not highly educated, but I feel I must
+put a pen to your ghost problem. Well, I don't believe in them; there
+are none. Would any sensible person, having lost their dearest and
+best, like to feel their spirits were not at rest? Why, Flanders
+field would be white with ghosts. I believe that nervous people often
+fancy they see things, as I have proved, having lost a dear sister,
+whose mind became unbalanced through a nervous breakdown. She used to
+tell us all sorts of things she saw, but, thank God, we have never
+seen her ghost. But I believe there are times when we are downcast and
+warned by a kind of telepathy of impending illness or death among
+dear ones, but only at times. I have proved this also. No, sir, no
+Christian people believe in ghosts.
+
+Many years ago I was helping my father to build a house, on the side
+of a main road, near a large village in Lincolnshire. It was early
+autumn, and the house was nearing completion. A workman was left in
+charge during the night, but on one occasion, owing to the sudden
+illness of his wife, he was unable to fulfil his duty, and I elected
+to remain and take charge. It was a beautiful night, and the moon was
+in full. I had made a fire in a middle room, and by the light from a
+candle, I read through an interesting novel by Harrison Ainsworth. I
+looked at the time: it was close on midnight. I blew out the light
+and closed my eyes, the happenings which I had just read in the novel
+rapidly passing through my mind. The silence was intense: the
+loneliness complete. Suddenly I was startled by a crash and the sound
+of falling glass on the front-room floor. Feeling sure that someone
+passing had hurled a broken brick through one of the large bay-window
+panes, I rushed upstairs, and from one of the windows which
+overlooked the road, and from which a long distance could be seen
+both ways, I looked to see in which direction the culprit had gone.
+Not a soul was to be seen; not a sound was to be heard! Then I went
+to inspect the damage. Every pane was intact, and there was not a
+fragment of glass on the floor!
+
+Later in life, I have found, on more than one occasion, what tricks
+one’s imagination and thoughts can play; how they can conjure up
+pictures, and faces and forms, not only of those we know, but of
+those we have known, which the eyes, acting in unison, will, under
+varying circumstances, place momentarily before you. The writer
+“Norfolk,” in your issue of the 17th inst., had this experience when
+he saw the face at the window.
+
+No, I do not believe in ghosts!
+
+
+Ghosts In The Great War
+
+A Pal in Life—and Death
+
+My pal and I joined the Army on the 21st day of September, 1914.
+My mother’s last words to me were, “Be a man; do your duty. If God
+spares you to come back to me I will be proud of you, my lad!” I was
+the only son. My pal heard her words and said: “Cheer up; we will
+come back. ‘England expects every man to do his duty.’”
+
+My pal was a soldier from head to foot. When duty called he was
+always ready; fear never entered his head. Night and day we were
+never parted; side by side we fought for two long years, and I am
+sure his thoughts always were that England did expect every man to do
+his duty.
+
+He was shot dead at my feet on the 5th of October, 1916. If he could
+have spoken to me I am sure his last words would have been, “Thank
+God, I have done my duty.”
+
+Broken-hearted through the loss of my pal I did my best to carry on,
+although my nerves were shattered, and fear was always in my heart. I
+was a messenger and had to carry messages from the firing line to
+headquarters. Three weeks after the death of my pal we were on the
+Somme. Our division went over the top; we fought our way forward all
+day until darkness stopped our advance. My captain handed me a
+message and said: “Go back to headquarters with this as quick as
+possible.”
+
+It was a lovely moonlight night. As I ran forward bullets and shells
+were flying everywhere. I don’t know whether it was the sight of dead
+men that lay around or the noise of the battle, but fear got the
+better of me. I dropped into a shell hole. The longer I sat the worse
+I got. The message which meant so much to my comrades in the firing
+line was now getting delayed. Shell after shell burst around me. I
+made one more attempt to go on, and, as I crawled out of the shell
+hole, the sight I saw I shall never forget. There was my pal standing
+not two yards away, not in white as most ghosts are, but dressed in
+his soldier's clothes. I stood there: the shock was too much for me;
+I could not move. But the ghost (I am sure it was my pal) kept waving
+me on and pointing in the direction of the headquarters, which were
+about a mile away. I don't know how, but I moved on; the ghost moved
+also. If I stopped it stopped and waved me on. This went on until I
+was about ten yards off my destination. The ghost then waved its hand
+as if to say “good-bye,” and disappeared into the air. Terrified, I
+ran on. With the help of my pal, the message was delivered. He had
+helped me do my duty in life and he had still aided me—though dead.
+
+The Morning of the Ypres Big Push
+
+THE following remarkable experience befell me in France. It is true
+in every detail and, although ten years have elapsed since then,
+still the memory of it remains. It was the morn of the Ypres big
+push, August 16th, 1916. After a night of almost unendurable
+suspense, fed with the knowledge of the coming storm, how unusually
+quiet everything seemed. There had been nothing to disturb the serene
+tranquillity of that summer’s night, save an occasional ping, ping, of
+the hidden snipers’ bullets, and a stray enemy shell. It was an
+ominous calm—the prelude to the approaching storm. In the small hour
+of the morn, I left my dug out, as shortly I was due for duty on the
+fire step. As I proceeded on my way along the trench I suddenly
+became aware of the form of a woman barely a dozen yards in front of
+me. Now I wasn’t half asleep, neither had I been having an extra rum
+ration. I stood there astonished, all manner of thoughts coursing
+through my mind. Could it by any chance be a kilted Highlander?
+Impossible. They were miles away on our left. In my anxiety to
+discover who it was I exclaimed, “Hello Jock,” and it vanished
+immediately in front of my very eyes in a straight run of trench and
+in very good light. I was bewildered, and proceeded on my way,
+scarcely able to credit my senses.
+
+Arriving at the post I joined my pals there, and we struck the usual
+conversation. After a few minutes a strange feeling of uneasiness
+crept over me—a sense of impending danger; a presentiment that
+something was about to happen. I thought of the form I had seen, and
+an irresistible desire to leave the post took complete possession of
+me. In desperation I turned to my pal named Stewart, exclaiming:
+“Come on, let us go to the latrine and have a smoke.” After much
+persuasion he eventually came away, and, together, we made a bee-line
+for the latrine. Arriving there we lit our “half-a-mo’s” cigarettes.
+Scarcely had we done so when we heard a resounding crash and,
+together, we rushed along the trench in the direction of the sound,
+grave fears filling my mind. At last we reached the bend in the
+trench leading to the machine gun post, and there a grisly sight met
+our gaze—a head lying on the broken duck boards. A trench mortar had
+made a direct hit on the very spot on which I had stood scarcely five
+minutes previously. Three poor fellows were blown to atoms. A narrow
+shave truly. “Luck,” some would say; others would say “Chance.” But,
+in my honest opinion, it was direct spiritual intervention.
+
+The following sequel convinced me of that. Some time afterwards, in
+writing to a sister of mine, I related the remarkable vision I had
+seen in the trench, and, in her reply, she informed me that it was in
+the small hours of the morning of August 16th, nine years
+previously, that my mother died, about the same time as I saw the
+vision or form of a woman in the trench. She reminded me of a fact I
+had quite overlooked. In summing up the whole thing, I am convinced
+that the form I saw was no kilted Highlander, but the spirit of my
+own dear mother come to warn me of impending danger. How else can I
+account for that feeling of uneasiness, that sense of impending
+disaster, that strong presentiment of something about to happen, and,
+above all, that irresistible desire to leave the post? Thank God, I
+did; for through the instrumentality of that spiritual warning, not
+only was my own life spared but my friend Stewart's as well.
+
+Is There an Explanation?
+
+I don’t know if the thing I saw could be called a ghost. I’ve never
+really made up my mind about it. It may, for all I know, have a
+perfectly proper scientific explanation, but it struck me as
+remarkably eerie at the time. It was a ghostly place anyway—the
+Somme, in 1918, when for the last time “Jerry” was being followed
+back across the old familiar ground. It was daylight—a day of
+sunshine—and I was reporting to company headquarters from one reserve
+line to another, across the open, when the shells began to fall. In
+appropriate rabbit-fashion I dived for the nearest shell hole. There
+was a dead man in that shell hole, lying on his back, staring up at
+the unquiet sky. An unpleasant neighbour, no doubt; but when shells
+were about one stayed where one was reasonably safe. Naturally enough
+I stared at the dead man, and then I noticed a peculiar thing. I have
+said that the man was lying on his back, but that was not exactly the
+case. The shell hole was a very large one and very old. In the bottom
+there was a coil of rusty wire. The face, and upper part of the
+body—for that was all I noticed—was pillowed upon the wire and the
+spear points of the grass that had grown under and about the coil.
+The face struck me as the most ethereal and delicate I had ever seen.
+I don't know exactly how to explain it; the dead man’s face appeared
+as though woven of some ethereal flesh-coloured cob-web, spun on the
+points of the grass and wire, and the light seemed to go right
+through the delicate skin. I stared at it quite fascinated, and,
+after a while, the fascination overcame me. I simply had to touch the
+face to see if it was real. I plucked a piece of coarse grass that
+was growing in the hole and, stretching across, stroked the face—and,
+immediately, it vanished.
+
+Now was that a ghost, or can science explain? For instance, can the
+mere shell of a human face and body exist (below ground, it is true,
+but open to the air) and yet be so easily dispersed. For myself, I
+don't know. It is, in any case, the nearest approach to a ghost that
+I, personally, have ever seen. I did not make a search, but, after
+the body and face disappeared, I looked round but could see no trace
+of any equipment, boots, entrenching tools, and such like things.
+
+A Dream—or a Ghost?
+
+I KNOW nothing of the occult, and claim no great belief in it, yet an
+instance occurred in which I was undoubtedly assisted by what appears
+to be the occult. It was just after the signing of the Armistice that
+I was at Dobritch (in the Dobrudja) running a Y.M.C.A. centre there.
+The goods for the boys used to come by ship to Varna. They were
+placed on rail at Varna by another Y.M.C.A. officer stationed there.
+They were locked, and sealed, and a guard placed over them by the
+British R.T.O. at Varna, before being transported to Dobritch by the
+Bulgar railway authorities. These stores always arrived locked, and,
+yet, invariably, with quantities of goods missing. Both my colleague
+at Varna and the R.T.O. thought I was mistaken, and the Bulgar
+railway official said “Nothing could have been stolen.” I was puzzled.
+Then, one night as I lay in bed, there passed before me—as in a
+panorama or a moving picture, so vivid and real was it—a vision of a
+train drawing up in the night, to a small station. I distinctly saw a
+stout, middle-aged Bulgar station-master (as proved by his uniform)
+go to a coach, unlock it, creep in, and roll out some crates marked
+Y.M.C.A., lock it again, and then whistle for the train to proceed.
+Vivid as the vision was, I paid little heed to it. As the next two or
+three consignments all revealed goods missing again, I decided to act
+Sherlock Holmes myself, next time. I went down to Varna. After the
+goods were loaded, I allowed the R.T.O. to lock the doors with me
+inside, and seal them. Only we two knew I was there. The train rumbled
+along in the night, for some considerable distance, and then drew up
+at a wayside station. It was midnight, and very dark, but I heard
+heavy footsteps approach and stop at my coach. Then a heavy breathing
+and a fumbling at the lock—and the door was gently slid back. A bull's
+eye cast a gleam inside, and, by it, I saw the burly form of a Bulgar
+station-master begin to creep in. His lantern shone right on his
+face. It was the exact face I had seen in the vision—even to a scar on
+the cheek. I waited no longer for the vision to be further fulfilled
+but jumped down off my bed and planted a running kick, square on his
+jaw. He fell back, outside, with a groan, mumbling “Anglaise dobra,
+dobra” (English, it all right). I closed the door again, the train
+proceeded. Goods were never missing again.
+
+Instinct or—What?
+
+WHAT is instinct? Is it some indefinable extra sense which now and
+then comes into play, at much needed moments, and guides us into
+correct lines of conduct, when otherwise rational thinking would only
+leave us confused? Or is it the operation of some external force,
+perhaps spiritual, which recognises our incapability, takes the helm,
+guides us through rock strewn seas, with or without our approval,
+and, finally, leaves us safely in the calm?
+
+Listen!
+
+During the War I was a stretcher-bearer and, on the occasion in mind,
+I was one of a squad who were carrying from a certain aid-post.
+
+When things were quiet it was our custom to make ourselves
+comfortable in a deserted wayside cottage. The comforts we improvised
+in that billet were wonderful to us, and it was, naturally, an object
+of our “Tommy's” pride and affection. One evening, returning from
+taking a casualty down to the advanced dressing station, I don’t know
+why, but I became obsessed with an intense feeling of distrust for
+our cottage. Call it what you like; I felt fear, funk, nervousness,
+insecurity and an unmistakable impression that something was going to
+happen. Strangest thing of all, all my distressing symptoms were
+centred on that beloved billet—nothing else—not even on the shell
+swept track along which we carried our wounded.
+
+Sensible men never turn a deaf ear to such a pointed warning. I
+persuaded my pals to leave the cottage and “dig in.” For a couple of
+hours we worked hard forming a little trench to hold four, and we
+completed our earthwork by covering the top with doors on which we
+loaded earth to act as a protection against falling shrapnel.
+
+This was our billet for that night.
+
+And now for the sequel.
+
+At midnight the enemy, instead of “searching” here and there with his
+shells, as was usual, suddenly developed the dreaded creeping
+barrage, and within five minutes of the commencement of that
+bombardment our cottage sustained a clean hit and collapsed in
+flames.
+
+Furthermore, when we crept out of our trench at dawn we found the
+surrounding fields ploughed up with shells, the nearest four hits
+being within twenty yards of our little trench.
+
+“Luck,” some say. “Instinct,” I argue.
+
+But what is “Instinct?”
+
+Saved by an Apparition
+
+DURING the War I drove a Sunbeam Ambulance and at one time was
+attached to the 92nd Field Ambulance. The division was in action at
+Ypres and the first-aid post was in a dug-out on the canal bank. As
+soon as darkness fell it was our duty to drive from Flaniatyage to
+the first-aid post, pick up the wounded and convey back to Poperinghe
+clearing station.
+
+One very dark night I had just arrived at the first-aid post behind
+Essex Farm, where I was told to return immediately with a very bad
+abdominal case, and was given instructions to get to Poperinghe as
+quickly as possible.
+
+I had gone about 500 yards when the light of a star shell revealed
+what seemed to be a lady standing in the middle of the road. I had to
+pull up. Consider my surprise, as the next star shell went up, to
+find no one there.
+
+First, second, top gear, then another star shell and the lady was
+just in front again. I pulled up to find no lady.
+
+Just as I approached Salvation corner, I saw, by the light of a star
+shell, a sentry standing at the challenge—his bayonet gleamed. I gave
+the customary shout “92nd Field Ambulance.” He didn’t move again. I
+pulled up and, to my astonishment, there was no sentry, but,
+immediately in front, was a shell hole large enough to bury a London
+bus. It took a long time to get past, but I got my patient to
+Poperinghe alive. Should I have done so had those apparitions not
+appeared?
+
+A Field of the Dead
+
+PERHAPS the most unique of many ghostly experiences—both personal and
+those of friends—was one which took place on the fateful night
+between August 3rd and 4th, 1914. My brother (who though strong and
+unimaginative is somewhat psychic) and I had sat up till about
+midnight, and I was amazed to hear him suddenly declare, as he shut
+his book and rose, that “no one could sit and read with that noise
+going on.” I asked what noise, and, on being bidden to listen (our
+house is on a quiet hill off an old Roman road going to the coast)
+noticed the sound of a great crowd, a confused, soft sound. “Why,” I
+said, “I don’t understand you—it’s no worse than any Bank Holiday.
+Quieter, indeed. You can well understand their being about to-night;
+they want to know whether it will be war or not.” He maintained that
+it was impossible to do anything but get quickly to bed. More and
+more amazed—this was so unlike him—I went to the front door with him,
+and there, clear and distinct, the sound of thousands of footsteps,
+of people shuffling, treading, moving about, but without uttering one
+single word, came from the road at the foot of our hill—about four
+houses’ distance. Nothing whatever could be seen. My brother
+declined absolutely to let me run down to look, or to come with me.
+Next day we heard that war had been declared at midnight. We live
+five miles out of London and it is not a place where people would
+gather for news. Subsequent inquiries made of a friend who lived on
+the road where the silent crowd had moved and passed about (remaining
+in the one place so far as I could judge), revealed nothing in the
+way of explanation. To his knowledge there had been no crowd. It was
+as if the ghosts of those who were to fall during those coming four
+years of blood had “projected” themselves, eerily, at the hour of the
+declaration of the Great War, upon the ancient road where Roman
+soldiers, long ago, must have marched. Or were they the spirits of
+the long-dead soldiers of the centuries, welcoming the heroes of
+1914—1918?
+
+A Mother's Vision
+
+DURING the War my two eldest sons were serving with the Forces in
+Mesopotamia. One day, while occupied about my usual household duties,
+there suddenly came to me the following mental vision (I can call it
+nothing else): I saw my eldest boy in a half-reclining position,
+quite alone, in a wild desert sort of a place with one hand stroking
+his forehead in a dazed kind of a way. So vivid and clear was the
+vision that I could not shake it off. Again and again it repeated
+itself, always exactly the same.
+
+At tea-time I spoke of it, and said I was afraid something had
+happened to F., but they only laughed at me and said I was getting
+fanciful in my old age, and so I tried to forget it.
+
+About six weeks later (the usual time for news to get through then) I
+received a letter from him and, to my great surprise, it contained
+these words as near as I can remember them:
+
+“I must tell you, mother, of a little incident that happened the
+other day. I had a fancy to take my horse and go off alone for a
+long-stretch gallop. When some distance from camp I suppose he must
+have put his foot in a hole and stumbled; anyway he threw me. I don't
+know how long I lay there but, on coming to, I discovered I had still
+got the reins tight in my hand with bridle attached but, alas, there
+was no horse; he had quickly made tracks for the camp, leaving me to
+get there the best way I could.”
+
+I shall always think that this accident happened just at the time my
+vision appeared to me.
+
+Then again, about three days or so before Christmas, 1918, I had
+another presentiment that something was wrong. This time it was the
+younger son. There suddenly came to me a vision of a hospital bed and
+I found myself looking down on my boy, who appeared to be very ill. I
+had not the remotest idea at the time that there was anything wrong
+with either of them. But, as before, the vivid reality of it seemed
+fixed on my mind. But, this time, I kept it to myself until the
+arrival, in a few days, of the ominous official envelope with the
+news that he was in hospital at Bagdad, seriously ill with dysentery.
+He lived to return home. He then told me that, just at the time when
+I had seen him in that remarkable vision, his life would not have
+been worth much.
+
+Saved Husband’s Life
+
+ONE morning, during the War, I had a most vivid dream of being chased
+by two Germans with fixed bayonets, and I'd almost reached safety
+when one of them stabbed me in the right shoulder. The shock woke me,
+and, on looking at the clock, I found it was about 6:45 a.m. When I
+got downstairs I remarked that something had happened to my husband
+and related my dream, only to be laughed at. I heard nothing at all
+from, or of, my husband for fifteen days; then I had the usual
+official notification, saying that he was in hospital with severe
+gun-shot wounds to the head and left shoulder. Some few weeks later I
+went to see him in hospital and found that it was his right shoulder
+that was in bandages, and, of course, told him my dream. He looked at
+me in such a queer way that I asked him what was the matter, and this
+is what he told me: The morning he was wounded, they were ordered to
+attack at 6:30, and they hadn't got very far from their trenches when
+he was hit in the right shoulder with a piece of shell which sent him
+spinning into a shell hole, where he lay unconscious for two or three
+hours. When he recovered consciousness he saw me standing on the edge
+of the shell hole, beckoning him, and, with great difficulty (for his
+right arm was quite useless) managed to scramble out and follow me. He
+was joined by two wounded Germans. When I'd gone some distance, I
+stopped, so did he and one of the Germans; the other one went on and
+was blown to bits by a shell which exploded just in front of us. Then
+I went on and took him safely to the dressing-station, where he
+collapsed. To this day he declares I saved his life.
+
+The Shell-wrecked Church
+
+THE experience I shall never forget happened to me while serving with
+the Dublin Fusiliers in France. My battalion had just come out of the
+trenches and we were billeted in different villages near at hand—my
+company in the village of Courcelles. In this village was a
+shell-wrecked church, and my billet was a broken-down cottage just
+opposite. One evening I took a stroll through this church and, to my
+amazement, I heard the sound of deep and heavy breathing. Thinking
+someone was asleep, I had a good look round but found nothing.
+Looking across the road I saw my chum talking to an officer and I
+went over and asked them to come over and listen. When they heard the
+noise my chum turned deathly white, and they asked me what it was or
+who it was. I was just as wise as they were. We searched about the
+church, even to moving about the stones and bricks, but found
+nothing. The same night, when asleep in the ruined cottage opposite,
+my chum woke me up with a startled cry, “Cyril, look quick, the
+Virgin Mary!” Looking up, I was astonished to see a white figure
+gliding through the room and out of the broken window across to the
+church and into it. We went all about the church the next morning but
+all was quiet. What could it have been?
+
+Vision of Brother
+
+DO I believe in ghosts? I did not until the War was on and my
+favourite brother was in it. He was stationed at Salonica. One day I
+was making cakes and had just stooped down to take a tin from the
+oven when it seemed that my brother bent over me and snatched one. At
+the same time there was a whisper “I am so hungry.” I dropped the
+cakes and turned round with “Oh, Ron!” but my hands met the empty
+space. A few days after we heard of my brother being killed in
+action.
+
+Vision of Wounded Son
+
+ONE night during the year 1915, whilst waiting up for my son who
+worked on the trams, and, in consequence, was often late, I thought I
+would while away the time by reading. When he came in and had supper
+and we were preparing for bed I suddenly became aware of a pair of
+muddy boots on the hearth rug. I looked at them again and again. Then
+I looked up and saw putties, then pants and belt; then there was a
+space where the body should have been. Still looking higher, I
+distinctly saw the head and face of my son George, who was then
+serving somewhere in France. All about his head were white bandages,
+and just by his ear was a large spot of blood. I believe I fainted,
+or something like it. My young son was frightened and called his
+father who had gone to bed. I told them, “If George gets hurt it will
+be in the head.” Five weeks later, on the 1st of June, word came that
+he was in hospital with a bullet wound in the head. The wound was
+exactly in the same place as I had seen the blood. My son George is
+still living and most happily married.
+
+“His Spirit Took This Chance”
+
+THE following incident happened one afternoon during the War, when I
+went to visit my husband’s mother. We were sitting in a room talking
+to some other members of the family when, suddenly, my husband's
+favourite sister came running downstairs calling out, “Mother, Dick
+has come home!” We rushed into the hall, expecting to see my husband,
+and were naturally very surprised, as we had had no intimation of an
+intended leave. However, the hall was empty except for my
+sister-in-law, who had just reached the foot of the stairs. She
+seemed quite convinced that she had seen him standing there, in full
+field equipment, and we searched the house to satisfy her that he had
+not come home.
+
+We did not hear from my husband for many weeks after this and were
+very distressed, as we felt, after this strange event, that something
+very serious must have happened to him.
+
+At last, we had news that he was a prisoner of war.
+
+When he returned after the War we told him of this strange incident
+and gave him the exact time and day on which it happened.
+
+Just at this time, it appears, he was captured by the Germans, one of
+whom struck him with a rifle, rendering him unconscious.
+
+I sometimes think that his spirit took this chance of leaving the
+sickening horror, and, if only for so short a time, being near those
+he loved.
+
+Walked with the Dead
+
+DURING the Great War my sister was employed as nursery governess with
+a family living in M———. One of her duties was to meet the oldest
+child returning from school—and she was very frequently joined by her
+fiancé, whose regiment was stationed quite near. Eventually “Dick”
+was called to the front.
+
+Six months passed, and, one day, my sister came to see me, looking
+terribly distressed. She informed me that she knew “Dick” had been
+killed. I advised her to get a good nerve tonic, thinking she was
+overwrought through not having heard from him for two weeks. She
+proceeded to tell me that during her usual walk to the school “Dick”
+had walked with her all the way.
+
+However, little over a fortnight after this, my sister again came to
+see me. This time she handed me a letter she had just received from
+one of “Dick's” brother officers, stating that he had been killed.
+The date and hour given of “Dick's” death corresponded exactly with
+the day and hour that my sister declared he had walked with her.
+
+The Phantom Soldier
+
+WHILE my husband was serving in France during the Great War, I
+carried on our business as job master, and it often used to fall to
+my lot to drive the brave lads to and from the station. One lovely
+summer night I was driving a young lad to catch the midnight train
+which used to arrive at Waterloo about 4 a.m. He had come over from
+New Zealand when the call came (he emigrated a few years before the
+war) and he had just been home on leave to see his parents. I was
+driving an extremely quiet little pony in a governess car, and the
+young soldier and I were sitting opposite one another talking. I had
+just asked him if he intended settling down with his parents when the
+war was over or go back to New Zealand, and he replied he thought he
+would stay at home until his parents died. No sooner had he said this
+than the pony gave a most violent swerve, and, there, by the side of
+the soldier, outside the trap, was another soldier in the New Zealand
+uniform. The one I was driving shouted out: “That's a dirty trick to
+play, mate, the pony might have had us out. Do you want a lift to the
+station?” But the figure had vanished. A week later, the young fellow
+had paid the Great Sacrifice. Now, all three of us saw the figure,
+and I think the pony saw it first. When I got the pony to the
+station, he was trembling and sweating, yet I had not driven him
+hard. I often wondered if he saw more than the soldier and I saw.
+
+An Unknown Visitor
+
+I WISH to record an experience that befell me while I was on active
+service in France. It was during the Battles of the Somme in 1916. I
+was attached to a Lewis gun team in my regiment during the attacks on
+Ginchy and Guillemont. One night I was on my post, between the hours
+of ten and twelve, when I was relieved by the next sentry. I retired
+to an unoccupied dugout fifteen yards away to grasp a few hours
+sleep. I had just crawled in and dropped down to sleep when I was
+awakened by a voice calling me by my christian name. I sat up to
+ponder over it and, when I convinced myself that I was alone in the
+dugout, and no one within fifteen to twenty yards, I considered it
+was only imagination, so I dropped down again and, after a space of
+two minutes, I was called again by my name. Once more I took it to be
+sheer imagination, and again I lowered my head to sleep when, to my
+amazement, I was called the third time in a more distinct voice. This
+time I sat up and plainly saw a dim blue light going out of the
+dugout door.
+
+I immediately arose and followed it outside, but no one could I
+see—only the occasional burst of the German shells. I shrugged my
+shoulders and went up to my sentry post to ease my mind of the
+matter. I had just walked about fifteen yards away when a German 5.9
+shell landed in the dugout and blew it to pieces—a grand escape, and I
+attribute it to the warning of a friendly ghost. On another occasion
+when my life was in danger the same voice called again three times.
+
+A Lover and a Sister
+
+ONE day during the War, I was sitting reading, when suddenly I heard
+my fiancé (then in France) calling my name. I looked up and beheld
+him walking towards me, in a white shroud. I was horrified and called
+to him to go away, but his ice-cold hands touched my face and I
+fainted. He was killed that day, and his comrades said he was calling
+my name as he died. Again, in a vision, I saw my beloved sister (a
+nurse) lying dead in a ward. A few days later we met at our home.
+During tea I related my vision to her, describing the ward and even
+the flowers and ivy they had put on her. Everyone but mother laughed.
+My sister laughed till tears rolled down her cheeks and said “Oh! my
+dear, I’m too healthy to die; look at me.” And, indeed, she was a
+picture of health and happiness, and she was beloved by everyone.
+But, six weeks later, she lay dead exactly as I had seen her. Why I
+should see the two people I loved best like that I cannot say, but I
+cannot but believe in the supernatural.
+
+A Brother's Smile
+
+IN August of 1917 my brother was fighting in France for his King and
+country. One Sunday night I had gone to bed and just turned out the
+light and made a prayer for the safe-keeping of my brother who was
+fighting for us. When he appeared before me, bent over me and gave a
+lovely smile, and disappeared again.
+
+Two days afterwards I received a letter to say he was killed in
+action at the hour he appeared to me.
+
+Her Soldier Boy
+
+ONE night during the War, I had seen all the family into bed and
+returned downstairs to put things right for the morning, and to pack
+the food for the workers. It was well on into the night as I sat at
+the table cutting the food. The lobby door seemed to open and my
+soldier boy stood there and said “Mother” in such a sad voice, then
+vanished. I could see him so plainly and he looked so sad that I felt
+upset and went to bed, but not to sleep. I felt he was in trouble. I
+came to know in a short time that he was that night lying out on the
+battle-field at Passchendaele seriously wounded. He received a M.M.
+We have the Testament that saved his life; it is shot through, but
+there happened to be a steel looking glass at the back, and this
+stopped the bullet.
+
+A War Worker's Experience
+
+Your ghost stories have prompted me to write and tell you of an
+experience which I had some years back and which Armistice Day has
+brought back to me very vividly.
+
+In 1916, I, like many more young women, felt the call of my country,
+and I gave up a position I held in an office in Leicester and offered
+my services at the Glen Parva Barracks, Wigston. I was accepted as a
+clerk, but, when it was found that I was a typist too, I was sent into
+an office to release a young soldier for foreign service. He took it
+very well and showed me my new work very willingly. There were also
+two soldier clerks and two civilians, but I was the only female in
+the block of buildings. He was very friendly with all the clerks and
+often came into the depot to see us whilst he was training. He
+eventually went to France, and I thought no more about him, until one
+night I was awakened out of my sleep by hearing someone move in my
+bedroom. In the dim light I could see this soldier standing by the
+chest of drawers and feverishly turning over the contents of the top
+left hand drawer. My mother used to call it my “chaos” drawer,
+because it was always in such a chaotic state—filled with all my odds
+and ends. My blood ran cold and I could not speak. I sat and watched
+him raking about in that drawer until, after what seemed an eternity
+to me, I managed to gasp “Tyers, what do you want?” Never shall I
+forget his face as he turned from the drawer and looked at me. It was
+truly poor old Tyers, but his face was all drawn with pain, and
+ghastly. In a moment, he vanished, and it was a long time before I
+dared look at my watch to see what time it was. It was ten minutes
+past two, and I did not fall asleep again until it was almost time to
+get up. I missed my train next morning and was very late. In the
+usual rush I did not get a chance to tell the other clerks until
+quite late in the morning. They all listened anxiously and hardly had
+the words left my lips when we heard footsteps coming quickly up the
+wooden staircase outside. The next minute, the Lance-Cpl. who was on
+duty in the guard room rushed in and said: “Have you heard about poor
+old Tyers? He’s dead. His father has just telephoned to tell me that
+he died in the early hours of this morning at a hospital in England.”
+
+Why he appeared to me as he did I do not know, nor do I know what he
+was looking for in the drawer, but I have always chided myself that I
+took his place, for I feel somehow that I was partly responsible for
+his untimely end.
+
+The Sinking of the “Aboukir”
+
+ON the night of September 22nd, 1914, I was sleeping with my
+daughter, whose husband was serving on H.M.S. “Aboukir.”
+
+During the night we heard a noise such as would be caused by the
+dragging of heavy chains. I sat up with a start and my daughter
+gasped. “Oh, mother! what is it?” I got out of bed and called the
+only man in the house. He searched all over the house and the yard
+outside, from whence the sound appeared to come. But all was silent.
+We all went back to bed and, within a few minutes of our return, we
+heard again the dreadful clanking—weird and unmistakable. Again a
+vain search was made.
+
+The following morning the papers announced the sinking of the
+“Aboukir” and my son-in-law went down with it.
+
+“On Leave”
+
+I was engaged to a soldier, during the War, and received notice that
+he was coming home “on leave.” The day before he was expected I was
+“spring-cleaning” a bedroom, with a friend, when she suddenly
+exclaimed: “Look, there is ——— on his bicycle,” and pointed out of the
+window. As I was busy at work (and not too clean) knowing that I
+should see him within an hour, I drew back, that I might not draw his
+attention to me, and told her to do the same, until I had dressed
+properly. I was not surprised he was a day early. We watched him from
+the window, and saw him speak to the gardener, who was sweeping, and
+then we hurried up. Having dressed, I went to the gate, but saw no
+sign of him, so I asked the gardener which direction he took. The man
+said he enquired if I still worked at this house, but he did not
+notice which way he went. Thinking he had probably gone to my home
+(ten minutes distant), but wondering he had not called for me, I went
+home. No one, excepting my friend, myself and the gardener had seen
+him.
+
+Next day I learnt that on the day, at the actual time I saw him, and
+the gardener spoke to him, he was killed in France.
+
+The Three Figures
+
+IT was during the Great War, March, 1918, my only brother was in
+France; he had just returned after fourteen days’ leave.
+
+I was awakened one night by three figures entering the bedroom—one in
+white between two soldiers in khaki. I drew my husband’s attention to
+it, but he could not see anything, and said: “Now, it’s just fancy;
+try to get off to sleep.” I was going over when they entered a second
+time. I shall never forget it, for I knew there must be something
+coming concerning my much-loved brother. Three weeks later, I had a
+letter from his officer saying my brother had been killed in action
+on the night of my vision.
+
+To-day (Armistice Day) recalls sad memories.
+
+“Good-Bye”
+
+A FEW years ago I was spending a holiday with a friend who lives in a
+quiet village in the Lake District. We were returning home one
+evening from a neighbouring village, and our path led us across an
+old stone bridge spanning a swiftly-flowing stream. Here I could not
+hear the voice of my friend because of the deafening roar of the
+waterfall which was only a short distance from the bridge. By the
+side of the waterfall was a powder mill, where most of the
+inhabitants of the village earned their livelihood.
+
+After we had passed through the avenue leading from the bridge, my
+friend related to me a very strange experience she had whilst passing
+over the same bridge one evening during the Great War.
+
+Looking towards the waterfall, she saw, to her amazement and fear,
+the figure of her husband, dressed in white, and waving his hand to
+her as if in farewell. Almost at the same time her husband's father,
+who was then at work in the powder mill, saw the same figure of his
+son at his old place, but waving his hand to him in a similar manner.
+
+The following week my friend received the sad news that her husband
+had fallen in action, and, on making inquiries, discovered that he
+had been killed on the same day and at the same hour that she had
+seen him standing on the waterfall bidding her “Good-bye.”
+
+“Hello, Daddy!”
+
+THIS is a most curious incident I now relate, unexplained, and I
+think that nobody will ever be able to explain it. I can vouch for
+the truth of every word of it.
+
+During the morning of a day in the early part of July, 1915, I was
+busily engaged hanging out the clothes to dry in my back garden,
+when, suddenly, I heard footsteps coming up the passage. I thought
+that they sounded familiar, so I turned round and watched the gate.
+You can realise my astonishment when I saw the gate open, my late
+husband walk in, shut the gate after him, open the kitchen door and
+enter the house. I immediately set down my washing basket and ran
+down the back garden to the house, being so excited at seeing him
+back, as I thought, from Egypt, where he was serving in the Great
+War. I entered the house and, seeing nobody about in the kitchen, I
+looked behind the kitchen door, expecting that I should find him
+there, as he often used to hide there when he came home, and then
+jump out so as to give me a surprise. Seeing that he was not there, I
+thought that he must be in the living-room, so I went in there,
+exclaiming as I entered, “Hello, Daddy.” Imagine my surprise when I
+found the room empty, and also that no one had entered the room at all.
+
+What did I see and hear? I can swear that I heard my late husband's
+footsteps, and that I saw him in his khaki uniform, complete with
+everything that a soldier has when he comes home on leave. I also saw
+and heard the gate open and close, as also I did the kitchen door.
+
+A few days later, I received from my husband a letter stating that he
+had just arrived at Netley Hospital, Southampton, having been wounded
+and, therefore, drafted home. Therefore, at the time of my experience
+he must have been on his way to England from Egypt.
+
+The Robin's Warning
+
+WHEN each of my four brothers was killed in the War a robin came and
+hopped through the house. The last time this happened mother went to
+bed in a worried state as, having three previous visits from the
+robin, she knew what to expect and dreaded the morning post.
+
+Waking up at midnight she saw Will leaning over the bed-rail in his
+uniform, with his head in bandages. She called him by name and he
+came towards her but, when she put her hand out to touch him, he
+vanished. News soon came that Will died on that same midnight from
+head wounds. Mother has never really recovered from this vision and
+the visits of the innocent robin.
+
+A Remarkable Story
+
+IT was at a base hospital in France, January, 1916. My brother, who
+had previously been partly buried by a shell bursting near him, was
+now dying from pneumonia.
+
+I sat by his side through the night, having travelled across the
+Channel to see him, as the authorities had arranged for the same in
+serious cases.
+
+He was a bootmaker by trade, as was his father; both working the
+business. In his delirium he was back home in the shop. His bed was
+close to the boards of the Army hut. He would fix his gaze on these
+boards and then swing his fist with three distinct knocks, after
+which he would push the palm of his flat hand up the boards, thus
+producing a peculiar squeaking noise. My father, home in England, was
+working late in the shop; there came three distinct knocks on the
+window, followed by the peculiar sound of someone pushing their flat
+hand up the window. Thinking it was somebody playing a joke he
+shouted, but got no answer. After a little while, it was repeated; he
+went outside to see who it might be, but there was no one visible,
+and, although by no means a nervous man, or superstitious, he felt a
+something, and could not proceed with his work. On my arrival home,
+after ten days' absence, he related his experience to me. Then
+everything seemed linked up. No wireless could have been more direct.
+My brother’s hand on the board in France had produced its effect on
+the shop window in North Bucks.
+
+
+Other Stories In Brief
+
+“WE DO NOT COMPREHEND”
+
+I am not superstitious nor a believer in spiritualism, and yet I
+believe there is something connected with the after life which we do
+not comprehend.
+
+In far-away Co. Roscommon, is the town of Frenchpark and, close to
+the town, a very ancient residence—the family seat of the famous
+Frenches—occupied by Lord De Freyne. One night, accompanied by my
+brother, I walked along by the demesne wall, and came face to face
+with old Lord De Freyne (who had died long years previous)—a tall
+thin figure, as we knew him in life. He appeared to pass through
+the closed gates and walk up the drive towards the house. The
+following morning brought the sad news that young Lord De Freyne and
+his brother, the Hon. George French, had both been killed in action
+out in France.
+
+THE following experience occurred towards the end of 1918.
+
+During the Armistice I was released from internment at Ruhleben and
+went to stay for a few weeks with my sister at Evesham. At that time,
+my fiancée (since become my wife), whom I had not seen for the whole
+course of the war, was still in Italy with the American Red Cross. On
+getting up one morning, I happened to look out of the window and, to
+my astonishment, saw my fiancée walking along the pavement towards
+the house where I was. The figure was so real that, although to my
+certain knowledge she was still in Italy, I imagined that, by some
+means or other, she had come on a flying visit to see me, even
+though, as far as I was aware, she did not know my present address. I
+watched her coming along, and saw her open the gate and walk up the
+path, and then I distinctly heard a rap with the knocker on the
+front-door. I hurried up with my toilet and rushed downstairs,
+thinking to find her in the breakfast-room. However, there was no one
+there, but, thinking that she might have been shown into the
+drawing-room, I looked in there too, only to find it empty also.
+Perplexed as to what had become of her, I made inquiries, but was
+informed that no knock had been heard, and no one had been admitted.
+As it afterwards turned out, my fiancée was still in Italy.
+
+A LOVER'S VISION
+
+I HAD a lover, whose love had a quality that seemed to disregard
+entirely the ordinary separation imposed by distance or stone walls.
+During the years that we were lovers, I often felt his invisible
+presence, although we were miles apart.
+
+During the war, we were both in France. One morning early, I was
+preparing in my room to go on a train journey to meet him. He was a
+hundred miles away. I was hurrying, thinking of nothing but the
+necessity of catching the train, and answering the girls who were
+calling to me from other rooms to make haste, when I suddenly turned
+to the door as though impelled to do so. My lover entered with the
+quick eager impulsiveness which was his outstanding characteristic;
+straight up to me he came, put his hand on mine with a close, warm
+clasp, and was gone again—vanished in the same moment. I learned
+later that he had been taken prisoner that morning. His appearance
+had been absolutely natural, and had caused me not the slightest
+sensation of fear; my heart leapt to meet him, only I felt him to be
+disturbed and unhappy and that troubled me. He had not been injured
+and still lives.
+
+“IN THE LENGTHENING OF THE DAYS”
+
+My youngest brother joined up in 1914, and was sent to Salisbury
+Plain. Not long after his leaving home, very early one morning,
+somewhere between half-past one and two o'clock, I lay wide awake,
+and, to my astonishment, I saw him walk into our bedroom and go to
+the side of my invalid sister's bed, face her, turn, give a step
+towards the foot, turn again and salute her, and then lay down by her
+side. I screamed with fright, a most horrible scream, and as I did
+so, the vision vanished. I also awoke all the household to whom I had
+to tell what had frightened me so terribly. My people would have it
+that it was only a dream, although I knew it was not.
+
+Shortly after that, my mother received a telegram saying that he was
+ill and coming home. I am glad to say that to-day, he is alive and
+well.
+
+At the time I spoke to my mother again about the vision and she told
+me that I had seen my brother in the lengthening of the days, which
+meant he would live to a very old age.
+
+A PASSIONATE LONGING
+
+DURING the Egyptian Campaign, my mother had an experience which I
+have never been able to explain with satisfaction to myself. One
+night she was lying awake when she saw the bedroom door open and my
+brother, who was serving with the forces in Egypt, walk up to the
+bedside and gaze at her with an intense wistfulness in his
+expression. After both had remained motionless for some moments, my
+brother retraced his footsteps, and vanished through the doorway.
+
+My mother was so impressed with the apparition, that she took note of
+the date and the time, feeling sure that some fatality had occurred
+to my brother.
+
+When the war was over, and my brother returned home again, he dressed
+up in his uniform with sand-goggles, etc., and my mother at once
+recognised the dress as that worn by the apparition. On comparing
+notes, it was found that my brother was seriously ill of dysentery at
+that particular time and, fearing a fatal termination, was controlled
+by a passionate longing for the presence of his mother.
+
+AN UNBELIEVER’S DOUBTS
+
+GHOSTS, I personally do not believe in, but this is perfectly true.
+During the war, I was stationed for a short period at an empty
+convalescent camp, bordering the sea on the French coast. Our duty
+was to guard this, and, at night, we were a double guard—one held the
+main entrance, the other paraded the whole camp—a most desolate and
+wild affair amongst sand dunes and fir trees. My duty fell for this
+roving commission, and, wandering around, I felt compelled to enter
+the wood, and gaze at the camp from outside. The night was fair, with
+a moon casting long shadows, and, imagine my astonishment to behold
+a most weird apparition gliding effortless before me. I was struck
+dumb with surprise mingled with fear, but, remembering my loaded
+rifle and bayonet, I pulled myself together and investigated. It
+appeared to vanish, and, to my great surprise, straight through one
+of the hospitals. I searched, but in vain, and saw nothing more.
+Whether I was wrong, whether I saw something, I know not to this day.
+
+THE WOMAN BY THE GRAVE
+
+THIS is an account of my experience whilst in Germany as a prisoner
+of war in 1914, at Sennelager, near Paderborn. I was captured at Mons,
+on Sunday, August 23rd, 1914. I belonged to the 2nd Battalion, Royal
+Irish Regiment, and one of my comrades died from exposure early in
+October of that year. Volunteers were asked to attend his funeral,
+and of these I was one. The place where he was buried was a wild,
+desolate moor. The morning of the funeral was very cold and sleet was
+falling. We were a very miserable crowd as we stood by the graveside
+whilst the English chaplain read the Burial Service over our dead
+comrade. Suddenly, there stood with us a woman who remained until the
+service was over. There is nothing strange in that you will think,
+but the point is that none of us saw her until she stood with us and
+none saw her go. Our comrade was a married man, and what we all want
+to know is have we ever seen a ghost?
+
+P.S.—We received a letter from his widow some months after, dated
+before his death, imploring him for God's sake to write to her. She
+had a child very ill in St. Thomas's Hospital.
+
+MANSFIELD
+
+In November, 1916, my son, eighteen and a half years old, went to the
+war, being sent out to France. The scene I wish to relate happened a
+week before the Easter of 1917. It was a Friday. I spent a most
+miserable, uneasy day. When dad came home at tea-time I was nearly
+frantic. However, he assured me all was well, and, retiring about
+eleven o'clock, I put the bedclothes over my shoulders expecting to
+sleep, when three sharp jerks pulled the clothes right off my
+shoulder. This was repeated twice. The third time, I tucked them
+under my arm and held them tight and waited to find out the cause.
+Then my son walked into the bedroom and came up to me. He was in
+uniform, excepting cap. His left hand was in his pocket. With the
+other he snatched my hand, gripped it twice and shouted, “Mother,
+Mother!”
+
+The following week I heard from him. He went into battle about the
+time of my vision and was wounded. The same thing happened each time
+he was wounded—four times. It has always been a mystery to me. Each
+time the vision was so realistic and he always had the wounded part
+bandaged.
+
+PORTSMOUTH
+
+WHEN war broke out my brother was amongst those who answered the
+call. One night I saw my mother (who died just before the war)
+standing at the foot of my bed holding out her arms and looking
+straight past me. I turned my head and saw my brother come through
+the closed door and walk into my mother’s arms, and they both
+disappeared. At the time I thought, “How could a living being walk
+through a closed door.” The next morning I got the news that my
+brother had been killed in action.
+
+WALSALL
+
+A CLOSE friend of mine fought throughout the greater part of the late
+war without receiving a scratch. Some few months previous to the end
+of hostilities, he was selected for a commission, and was
+subsequently transferred to England to undergo the necessary training
+for a second-lieutenant. He was granted the position and, very
+shortly after, was drafted over to France. One night, when going into
+action, he was suddenly taken seriously ill and was carried back to
+hospital. During one evening, I, for some reason had to go to my
+bedroom, and, when about half-way on the stair-case, I distinctly
+saw, on the landing, a military officer standing to attention. I
+thought at first it was mere fancy, but, on going a few steps
+farther, I was thoroughly convinced that at no time had I seen a
+soldier so real. Then the vision vanished, as quick as thought, into
+the bedroom. I followed, but, after switching on the light, I failed
+to find anyone in the room save myself.
+
+Next day we received the sad news that this young officer had died
+from sickness, three days after Armistice was signed.
+
+PORT ERIN
+
+IN October, 1916, I returned from Liverpool (where I had been
+working), for a few weeks holiday at my own home. Early one morning
+(between two and three o'clock), I was awakened by hearing singing in
+my bedroom. I knew the voice quite well—it was that of a young man
+who had been brought up in the same street as I, and had been
+educated at the same school. He was singing a verse of a hymn, quite
+loud and heartily. I got no more sleep that night and was very upset,
+as I knew this boy was fighting in France. A few days after, I met
+his sister and she told me they had had word to say that her brother
+was missing. A couple of weeks went by and word came to say that he
+had been killed.
+
+NORWICH
+
+IN October, 1917, I was staying with my four little children in a
+village near Lowestoft. My husband, a skipper of a steam drifter, was
+at sea. On the night of October 7th, I was awakened by a loud bang.
+At the same time the bed seemed floating on water. I looked up to see
+my husband bending over me, and he seemed to put cold, wet hands on
+each side of my face, then disappeared. Two days afterwards, I was
+informed that his vessel had struck a mine and was lost with all
+hands, about the time he appeared to me. Three or four months after,
+I again saw my husband, this time looking through the window. He had
+with him another man who was a great chum of his. He also was a
+skipper. A few days later, I was told that at the same time as I saw
+them this man went down with his ship in the channel raid.
+
+BOLTON
+
+AT 6:30 on the evening of the 15th April, 1917, during a German raid
+on our trenches on the Ploegsteert Front, my chum was killed at my
+side. As mutually arranged in case of such an event, I wrote his
+people. Ten days afterwards I received a letter from my chum’s
+sister, in which was stated that her mother died the same evening
+that he was killed. She died at 10 p.m.
+
+At 8 p.m. the mother had called the family to her room. She then told
+them that Billy (the son) had appeared to her and told her that he
+had been “knocked out,” but would meet her very shortly.
+
+OLDHAM
+
+ONE evening during the late war I sat reading when I felt someone
+blow in my neck. I was just about to turn round when I heard a scream
+coming from upstairs. I went to see the reason, and, to my surprise,
+I saw my little girl sitting up in bed terrified. I took her in my
+arms and asked her what was the matter. She still looked afraid of a
+something, and said, “Look, mama,” and, pointing to a corner of the
+room, added, “There's daddy; a man up that tree has shot him; I saw
+him do it, and now my daddy is dead.” She fainted in my arms as she
+repeated “dead.” I ran to give her a drink to revive her, thinking it
+was just a nightmare she had had. Eventually, she fell asleep. The
+following week, I had news that my husband had been killed in action.
+On making inquiries, I found he had been shot by a sniper who was
+posted in a tree, and at the same hour as he had appeared to my
+little girl.
+
+BARNSTAPLE, DEVON
+
+IN August, 1916, my husband was sent to France. The following year I
+received a letter from him saying he would be home on leave, and I
+was to expect him any day. This was August 10th, 1917. I started to
+get in extra things and to prepare for his home-coming. I heard
+nothing more, but three nights after receiving his letter, I went to
+bed as usual, and about midnight, I heard my husband call my name. I
+sat up in bed, and there he was standing at the foot of the bed in
+his uniform with his arms outstretched in welcome. I couldn't sleep
+afterwards. In the morning I went home and told my parents what I had
+seen. I saw them look at each other. Then my mother said he had come
+to her the same night and asked her to look after us (I had one
+little girl). Four days later, I had a letter from the War Office
+saying my husband had been missing since midnight on the 22nd of
+August (later, presumed killed on that date). I can't understand it,
+but the vision is as clear to me now as it was nine years ago. You
+see, he came home to see us before going to a better home, and I’ve
+kept the memory of it to this day.
+
+KENT
+
+I ALWAYS doubted if people really saw ghosts or apparitions till my
+experience during the war in 1916.
+
+My son was in France and I was awakened one morning between one and
+two by a terrific noise like an explosion. I thought it was an
+air-raid, and, as I glanced towards the foot of the bed, I saw the
+image of my son looking very ill and begrimed with mud. He quickly
+vanished, and the next moment I heard his footsteps coming towards
+the house, and his voice distinctly calling me. I hurried down to let
+him in, but no one was there. I heard, a few days later, that my son
+was
+missing after an engagement when the wood was blown up and only a few
+survived; and it happened on the same date and about the same time as
+I had my awful experience.
+
+SURBITON
+
+IN December, 1917, my aunt, who lives in the country, stood looking
+out of her window, when she saw, walking up the path leading to her
+house, the figure of a man in khaki, with his kit on his back. She
+instantly decided that it must be the husband of her next-door
+neighbour, home on leave, and wondered why the lady had not mentioned
+the matter. However, as the man approached, it was with a feeling of
+great shock that she recognised her own young brother, who was an
+ambulance bearer at the front. His face was drawn and ghastly, as
+though he were suffering agonies. On seeing my aunt, he stretched out
+his arms, and she saw, as he got nearer, that he was a shadowy
+figure, and not flesh and blood. Thoroughly unnerved, she backed into
+her sitting-room, followed by the form of her brother. Right around
+her table she walked—still followed; then, gradually, he disappeared
+from sight.
+
+Shortly afterwards, a telegram arrived, announcing the death of this
+brother, which occurred on the battlefield just before he appeared to
+my aunt—his favourite sister.
+
+WARWICK
+
+ONE night during the Great War, my mother saw her son, who was at
+that time out in France, standing some distance away from her. He
+seemed to be in some terrible trouble. My father, who is rather
+superstitious, said bad news would follow. A few days later, we
+received a letter from the chaplain, to say my brother had died from
+severe wounds a few days before, and we feel sure it happened the
+night he appeared to mother.
+
+OXFORD
+
+DURING the war, my husband was serving in France with the Tank Corps,
+and it was during this time that I had my one and only experience of
+the “uncanny,” although I actually saw nothing. I awoke one morning,
+just at dawn (three o'clock) with the feeling that someone had
+entered my room, and said to me “Will is in danger.” I thought I must
+have been dreaming. I tried to go to sleep again, but found it
+impossible. Each time I shut my eyes, I seemed to feel a presence in
+the room, and to be conscious of the certain deadly peril of my
+husband. I got up, after a time, and made myself a cup of tea, and, by
+the aid of a book tried to get some more sleep. Things were no
+better, however; my mind refused to dwell on what I was trying to
+read, so I gave it up and lay just thinking until five o'clock. At
+that time, quite suddenly, the weight seemed to be lifted from my
+mind, and I was quite convinced that all was well. I just turned over
+and went to sleep quite happily.
+
+A few days afterwards, in my hubby's next letter, I read that on that
+particular morning, he had been “over the top” for just those two
+hours (in a "before breakfast stunt," he called it), and they were
+the worst two hours he had experienced since he had been out there.
+
+YORKSHIRE
+
+DURING the war, in the year 1916, I was in the fighting line round
+Armentiers in France, and on the 13th February in the same year three
+of our gunners were killed, including my devoted pal whom it was my
+painful duty to bury. Time passed on and one night, after I had been
+relieved from sentry duty, I went into the dugout, lit the candle,
+and prepared for a sleep. I was getting into my bed, which I had made
+of sandbags, and was going to light a cigarette, when the vision of
+my pal came and sat beside me and said, "I am not dead yet, Jack.” The
+candle was still burning and he was life itself. I could see his
+lighted cigarette as the vision faded away in the corner of the
+dugout. I called out to my sleeping pals and told them all about it
+and they said I looked like somebody scared. I should not like to
+have such an experience again. I was wide awake, and the light was
+lit all through the experience.
+
+KENT
+
+IN the late war I was working with a married friend who had a small
+son, three years of age. Her husband was in the Navy. We were working
+in a T.N.T. shell factory in Kent. Her husband had been on leave and
+had returned to his duty. She was very depressed because she had a
+feeling that something was going to happen. I cheered her as best I
+could. One night (we were working nights), I was put to work in a
+large shell store by myself. I heard the door open, as I thought to
+admit the night foreman, but as no one came in, I looked round, and,
+to my horror, I saw my friend's husband in full naval clothes, with
+no hat on, and his little son in front of him with arms held out. I
+rushed to the door, thinking something had happened, but I found no
+one there. Sixteen hours later my friend had news to say her husband
+had been drowned off the Irish Coast, and, two days later her little
+son caught his night clothes alight in front of the fire and died in
+hospital from the shock of the burns.
+
+DERBY
+
+ONE night in April, 1917, I was in bed asleep when I woke with a
+start and distinctly heard my fiancé call in a distressed voice:
+“Frank! oh, Frank!” (my nickname). It was so real, I jumped out of
+bed and, going to the window, I saw him, sun helmet, kit, and all
+equipment in the garden beneath my window, as clear as ever I had
+seen him in reality. I turned to go back to bed and have a good cry,
+feeling sure something tragic had happened. My sister came from
+another room and said, “I felt certain I heard Charlie call you. What
+can it mean?” There was not much sleep for either of us that night,
+and, not hearing from him for several days, I feared the worst.
+However, one day at the office, I received a wire asking me to meet
+him on the London train due in that evening. When I had an
+opportunity I asked, "What were you doing on the —rd April?” He took
+out his diary and gave it to me to read, and this was written at the
+date of my experience:—
+
+"Submarine sighted, lifebelts—what luck if we go under without a
+fight after two and a half years away from home. Frank! oh, Frank,
+God bless you!”
+
+And he admitted what a narrow squeak they had that night in the
+Mediterranean.
+
+
+TRUE TALES OF HAUNTED HOUSES
+
+An Evil Presence
+
+DURING the recent September my husband and I went for a motoring tour
+in Scotland. The weather was wonderful, and I had never felt better
+in my life. Towards the end of our week we made for a certain hotel
+in the Highlands, where my husband hoped to have some dancing.
+
+At the close of a perfect day—from every point of view—we neared our
+destination. On entering the hotel I became conscious at once of an
+extraordinary sensation which I can only describe as a soul chill!
+This remained with me as we went to our room to dress for dinner.
+After that meal my husband went to the ballroom and I, who do not
+dance, cowered over the fire in the lounge and tried to get warm.
+Telling myself that I had caught a chill, I sought out my husband and
+told him I was retiring. He decided to remain until the dancing was
+over.
+
+The instant I got into my bedroom I was seized by a sensation of
+appalling panic. I saw nothing, but I was perfectly aware that the
+small room was filled with uncanny and evil beings!
+
+I undressed and got into bed, but the obsession became too terrible
+to be endured. I endeavoured to make the Sign of the Cross, but found
+that I could not raise my hands. I then fell on my knees and tried to
+pray, but I could not; even to utter the Divine name was an
+impossibility.
+
+This seems cold written down as it is, but words fail to describe the
+awful atmosphere. I can only say that the room was crowded to
+overflowing with some evil presence.
+
+I could stand no more; I put on a dressing-gown and went in search of
+my husband. I found that he had foregathered with some men he had
+known during the War. He was angry at the interruption, but, as soon
+as he saw my distress, he at once came to my room.
+
+His presence seemed to help me somewhat, but all that night I tossed
+about, sleeping only to dream the most awful dreams. In the morning
+my husband, believing that I had caught a chill, wished to get a
+doctor, but I knew that my ailment was not physical.
+
+We went out for a long day trip, and no sooner was I out of the house
+than I became perfectly normal.
+
+Some of my fears returned as I came back that evening, but as we were
+going south in the morning, I made up my mind to brave it out. The
+second night was not quite so bad, probably because my husband, who
+was now rather infected by the condition, remained with me. I did not
+sleep at all; the whole night through I was aware that the evil thing
+was crouching and waiting to spring upon me.
+
+We left the place immediately after an early breakfast next day.
+
+My only sensation when about half a mile from the place was as if I
+had had a serious illness—intense weakness both of mind and body.
+
+I have never seen a ghost, but I have felt things more than once. I
+am very psychic. I have told this story to several people, and the
+only explanation offered has been that something must have happened
+in the hotel or in that particular room. This explanation does not
+satisfy me. I want to know why it is that when we drove up to that
+beautiful place in the majestic scenery of the Highlands my soul
+seemed to shiver and to shudder within me.
+
+In a covering letter, the writer of this story says:—
+
+“I do not know whether this is, strictly speaking, a ghost story, but
+it was a recent and very terrifying experience, and I feel that I
+cannot do justice to it in the telling. For obvious reasons I do not
+give the name of the place in the article, but it was the ———, a
+lovely spot and an excellent house. Perhaps some of your readers may
+be able to help me to a solution of the mystery.
+
+“I may add that I am a perfectly sane and normal woman; a journalist
+by profession. My husband is a Highlander, so if the experience had
+been his there might have been less to wonder at. I am English and
+Irish and more remotely Scottish by descent, but I have no connection
+ancestral or otherwise with Perthshire. “Hoping that perhaps some
+light may be thrown on this.”
+
+A Strange Story
+
+WHEN I was a child of twelve my parents moved to a new neighbourhood.
+We had lived in our fresh house about a month when I was awakened one
+night by very heavy footfalls. I sat up in bed and was amazed to see
+a bent and dirty nun stumping beside my bed. She wore a nun’s habit,
+very roughly made of coarse material. She was wringing her hands,
+which were tied at the wrists, and on her feet were heavy wooden
+shoes. As I gazed at her she turned her face to me, and her look of
+anguish was terrible. Over her face hung wisps of hair, and on her
+face were blood marks. I looked at her quietly for a second or two
+before I realised that the whole room was changed; it was much
+smaller, the walls were rough enough for barn walls almost, and there
+was no wainscotting. To my horror I saw that a door was open by the
+side of my bed where there was no door. This really frightened me and
+I screamed loudly, but, after my first screams, the room became
+ordinary, and when my father entered I told him what I had seen. He
+got very angry with me, banged down the candle, and left me much
+comforted by its tiny glow. In the morning I told my parents what I
+had seen, but they both told me I was a foolish child, and forbade me
+to mention my “nun,” as I called her, but they allowed me to have a
+candle for a few nights until I forgot my visitor. Soon after this I
+went to school and quite forgot my experience, as a healthy child
+would do.
+
+About three years later, I was again sleeping in the same room, when
+I was awakened by heavy footsteps. I felt too frightened to cry out,
+and all the same scene was enacted. I dared not tell my parents this
+time, but confided in a dear old farmer who lived at “The Priory”
+next door. He listened to me with respect, and told me that our house
+was some hundreds of years old and had been a monastery in earlier
+days. He knew that my bedroom had been altered from two small ones to
+one large one. He also advised me to tell my parents of my fright, as
+he was sorry for me. After this I slept in the attic for some time
+but, later, I was taken ill and, to save steps, I was put into my
+“nun room” again. My fright had worn off by then. However one night,
+as I lay tossing on my bed, I again heard the heavy footfalls. I
+screamed loudly, and when my mother came in she found I had fainted
+from sheer fright.
+
+I have had many experiences of ghosts, though I am far from
+hysterical, and have been laughed at when I have spoken of them, so I
+usually keep silent about them. But my “nun” was so real that, on
+cycling by the house recently I felt shivery at looking up at the old
+bedroom window. And why a nun should appear in a monastery is a thing
+unexplained.
+
+Was it a Curse?
+
+I WELL remember when I was a schoolgirl, my father taking an old farm
+which had been uninhabited for years. It was a quaint old house with
+three stairways, and the best bedroom had queer little knobs and
+ornamentations all over the ceiling, and the date 1643 or 83 let into
+the wall—I forget exactly, it was so long ago.
+
+It was pleasantly situated, but bore a bad reputation, for it was
+said that the old lady who owned it in bygone days had come by it
+through fraudulently altering a will; then, towards the end of her
+days, it was unlawfully wrested from her for some paltry debt. This
+preyed on her mind and she died soon after, vowing that she would
+haunt the spot, so it was said, and anyone who took it would rue it.
+My mother was very averse to taking it and so was my grandmother,
+who, indeed, begged and prayed father to have nothing to do with it,
+saying there was a curse on the place, and no good would come of it.
+However, father, not being at all superstitious, but an honest,
+God-fearing man, laughed at such predictions. He had the farm put in
+repair, and we went there to live.
+
+From that day our modest prosperity vanished; we lost money steadily.
+In a few months my father was brought home seriously ill. He got up at
+last from his bed a wreck of his former self, only to linger for two
+years a semi-invalid, then a recurrence of his illness took him from
+us within a few days.
+
+My mother’s mind broke down under the shock and worry, and she had to
+be taken away, and we girls were left fatherless, as bad as
+motherless, and penniless into the bargain. Our home was sold up, we
+paid our debts and got out of that disastrous house as soon as we
+could. As for our uncanny experiences there—we were awakened more than
+once by sounds as if all the heavy furniture we possessed downstairs
+was being dragged about, also by footsteps coming up the flagged path
+that led to the front door, and by raps at the window.
+
+Also, one evening, I remember distinctly we four girls were all
+sitting quietly sewing, when, all at once, we jumped nearly out of
+our skins at a loud rat-tat-tat at the front door. “Whoever can that
+be at this time of night?” we said. My eldest sister snatched up a
+light and ran to answer, and came back saying: “There's no one
+there.” At this moment, our dog, chained in the back yard, snapped
+his chain and ran round the house howling piteously.
+
+Who it was, or what it was, I know not; we saw nothing, but I don’t
+think anyone would have played a trick on us at such a time when we
+were in deep trouble. Then, too, it was a lonely place, and the house
+stood back from the road enclosed with high garden hedges, and in
+those days country folk were not wont to travel the dark lanes at
+nine or ten at night to frighten their neighbours or, indeed, for any
+purpose unless necessity compelled them.
+
+Only once during our stay there did we see anything. One night my
+second sister was awakened by the feeling that someone or something
+was in the room, and was horrified to see the figure of an old woman,
+with thin grey wisps of hair, bending over the bed. As she lay, too
+frightened to call to the rest of us, the figure gradually retreated
+in the direction of the door, which led into the best bedroom.
+
+I don’t care to recall these things, for even after the lapse of many
+years their remembrance both saddens and terrifies. Was there some
+sinister influence surrounding this spot? Or were our misfortunes
+just the chances and changes of this mortal life which might have
+occurred anywhere? Who can rightly say? What happened to the next
+tenant (if there was one) I do not know. We removed to a distant
+county, and I have long lost touch with any I used to know who might
+give me news of it.
+
+The Lady with the Thimble
+
+MY aunt has often told me that, when she was staying with her mother
+at a friend's house in the city, at night time a curious tapping, as
+if with a thimble, on the door of her room used to awaken her, and
+then something seemed to appear at the bottom of the bed which was
+one of the old-fashioned four-post type. Then she would feel the bed
+shake beneath her, the shaking increasing in volume. The tapping was
+heard about a quarter to twelve, and everything ceased on the stroke
+of midnight.
+
+Her mother used to think she was dreaming, but, as she was so emphatic
+in her story, they agreed to change rooms, my grandmother sleeping in
+her daughter’s room. Soon after twelve o'clock my grandmother entered
+my aunt’s bedroom, looking very frightened. “You are quite right,” she
+said, “I can’t sleep there another night; I don't know how you managed
+to sleep there so long.”
+
+The next day my aunt inquired as to the occupants of the room who had
+preceded her. The host looked rather anxious. “Why,” he said, “my
+mother used to sleep there; she died rather suddenly a year or two
+ago, and I don’t think anybody has ever occupied it since.” My aunt
+told him of what had happened, and he said that his mother was always
+accustomed to wearing a thimble, and, on entering a room, used to
+knock on the door with it. He was unable to give an explanation of the
+shaking of the bed, so that must be put down as an unfathomable
+mystery.
+
+A Reverend Gentleman’s Story
+
+MY grandparents, with their two sons, lived at a lone farm about a
+mile from the village. In my early days I spent much of my time with
+them, and often heard them speak about the visitations of “the
+ghost.” They quite believed the place was haunted, and, taking into
+account my own experiences, I was led to believe the same.
+
+It was no uncommon thing, as we were sitting round the fire in the
+evening, to hear three distinct knocks at the top of the chimney,
+which would gradually descend to the back of the fireplace. So used
+were they to these rappings that they would be dismissed with just a
+passing reference.
+
+On moonlight nights my uncles would often go out to shoot rabbits. On
+one occasion, when they came back, they said they had seen a man
+sitting on the branch of a tree. They challenged him to come down,
+thinking he was a poacher in hiding, but, as they were looking at
+him, he suddenly disappeared.
+
+On another occasion, one night, when the snow was on the ground, one
+of my uncles came in from the village, and said there was a man
+sitting astride the wheat stack at the back of the house. My
+grandfather took his gun and went up to the back bedroom window, and,
+looking out, sure enough there sat the human form. My grandfather
+shouted: “If you don’t come down, I'll shoot you.” But before he had
+time to raise his gun, the figure vanished. Next morning they got a
+ladder and examined the roof of the rick to see if they could find
+any footprints, or if the snow had been disturbed, but not a trace
+could be found!
+
+Sometimes the ghost would appear in different shapes and forms. In
+the winter the cattle were kept up in the yard and cow-sheds. My
+grandfather’s brother, who lived in the village, used to come up
+early to feed them. One morning, when he had finished his work, he
+came in and said: “The thing was in the manger again.” The “thing”
+referred to was a white calf, which he had seen more than once in the
+same position, but it always disappeared when he went up to it.
+
+My mother often referred to her experiences with the ghost when a
+girl at home. It would come when she and her sisters were playing
+around the ricks. It took the shape of a round log, covered with long
+black hair, full of bright spots. After rolling about for some time,
+it always finished up by going into the pond at the end of the barn.
+On one occasion a girl with long black hair joined them at play. At
+first they thought it was a girl from the village, but when they
+gathered round her, she vanished.
+
+It was in this rick yard that my cousin and I had a hair-raising
+experience. One evening as it was getting dusk, we were romping in a
+heap of straw; then we sat down and covered ourselves up to the neck.
+Sitting there, we heard a panting noise, like a horse trying to get
+its breath after a race. Looking up we were horror-struck to see a
+huge animal like a lion, with long, shaggy hair, coming towards us.
+We sat breathless. It then passed over our legs and disappeared
+through the bushes into the pond. Terrified, we ran into the house and
+told what had happened.
+
+I had another experience later on, early one morning on the road
+leading up to the farm. Just before me I saw a white calf’s head
+projecting from the corner of a heap of stones. It was motionless, so
+I went to see what was the matter with it, but as I came up to it, it
+vanished and appeared at another corner! I then thought of the white
+calf in the manger, and started to run. On another occasion my
+brother and I were driving along this same road one dark night. As we
+got to a very narrow part of the road we saw before us two large
+lights. Thinking it was a carriage with lamps we wondered how we
+should pass. I pulled in to the left and waited. We could hear
+nothing. As the lights drew nearer they seemed to grow larger. At
+last we saw the outline of some monster beast, and these lights were
+its eyes. I could have touched it as it passed. Neither of us spoke a
+word till we got to the village. The horse did not seem to have seen
+it.
+
+In the course of time my grandfather gave up the farm and came to
+live in the village, but, strange to say, the family ghost followed
+him! Many weird and uncanny things happened about the house, some of
+which I could speak of from personal experience.
+
+My grandparents have long since passed away, since when nothing more
+has been heard of the family ghost.
+
+Whose Eyes?
+
+“I SHAN'T be a minute; I’m going to fetch a book from my bedroom.”
+
+So saying, I got up and smiled across the table at Mr. P., the
+gentleman boarder. “Let me go,” he said. “Certainly not,” I answered,
+and lightly ran out of the room and up the inky black stairs. There
+was the awful soundlessness and stillness of impenetrable darkness,
+and I had to slacken my steps to feel for each stair. When I was
+about half way up someone pushed against me from behind and tried to
+tread on the same stair as myself. I gasped and instantly thought it
+was a practical joke that Mr. P. was playing on me, and I said
+fiercely: “Go away, Mr. P.! You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
+frightening me like that.” As he didn’t answer me, I turned round to
+push him away, and found Emptiness. The horror of this was so great
+that, regardless of the danger of missing the stairs, I literally
+flew up the remainder and opened my door and rushed inside.
+
+As I was in the act of banging the door a pair of eyes gazed at me
+out of the darkness. Oh! it was awful!—Eyes without a body, gazing at
+me. I flung myself against the door to shut them out, at the same
+time covering my eyes with my hands.
+
+My bedroom was pitch dark. Outside, I knew I had to face unknown
+terror—what was I to do? Not a sound to be heard, and the only living
+people in that house were at the bottom of all those stairs.
+
+If I moved from the door those eyes might come in; if I remained
+where I was, what unseen thing might touch me? At last I remembered a
+bit of candle and matches that were in a certain drawer. Could I find
+the chest of drawers? At least it was worth trying.
+
+How I got across that room I don’t know, but I did, and I found that
+bit of candle and matches and lit up, and I gazed all round that room.
+
+I saw my face in the glass—it appalled me, for my eyes were fairly
+bulging out of my white face.
+
+With the comfort of the lighted candle I got downstairs. The
+landlady, Mr. P., and my sister all remarked upon my appearance and
+asked why I had been so long. When I told them they were very
+excited, and all went with lamps to hunt for the ghost. To them it
+was a most exciting event; to me it was a nightmare.
+
+Of course, they found nothing.
+
+Some weeks later, when the ghost was forgotten, my sister and I were
+sitting in a room on the first floor, the door of which opened
+straight off a tiny landing of the staircase. My sister was playing
+the piano, and I was sitting by the fire sewing.
+
+Looking towards her, I noticed the door opening ever so slowly and
+silently until it was wide open—and no one was there. Thinking,
+sensibly, it must be the draught, I got up to close the door and,
+there, in the doorway, on a level with my own, were the pair of eyes,
+luminous.
+
+I stood stock still and said to my sister: “Look at the door!” To do
+so, she had to look up and over the piano, and by so doing she looked
+straight at those eyes. She rushed to my side shrieking. Up the
+stairs pelted Mr. P., with the landlady following, shouting up,
+“What's the matter?”
+
+He walked right under those eyes, and, brushing back his hair with
+his hand, he said: “Great Scott! Aren't you cold up here? Did one of
+you shriek or call out?”
+
+I was standing petrified with fright, with my sister clinging to me.
+
+It was a moment or two before I could tell him, and then he was off in
+hot chase—he was going to catch the ghost with his gun. He went and
+fetched a chum, and, together, they made enough noise to frighten an
+army of ghosts; but they did not catch one.
+
+We all felt a bit eerie, and Mr. P. persuaded his chum to sleep with
+him a few nights.
+
+It was just as well that he did, for one night, about two a.m., we
+were all awakened by the most blood-curdling screams it is possible
+to imagine. My sister and I sat up at once and clung tight to each
+other. Mr. P. and his chum were soon hammering on our door asking
+were we all right. The landlady was wandering about her landing in a
+voluminous dressing gown and night cap, with a candle: a little girl
+was sobbing in bed, and a boy slept through the lot. The men were
+determined to put an end to the matter, so down the cellar they went
+with lamps and pistols, and all over the house, and right up into the
+unused attic, but nothing could be discovered.
+
+Should any reader want to think of a reasonable clue, I can only tell
+them that the house was built in such a way that no sun could get
+into it; it was very old and appeared to have been wedged in to block
+up a passage way between the backyard of a grocer’s shop and the
+road. The front and back of the house were built away back from the
+level of the other houses: the houses on both sides of it seemed to
+squeeze the very air out of the house—it was a deadly house.
+
+As soon as I walked into the front door I used to shiver and stare
+straight ahead of me, as if expecting things to happen. Even in the
+daytime it was always dark as compared to other houses.
+
+A Ghostly Carpenter
+
+ABOUT twenty years ago my brother D went to live in a fairly large
+house in North London—wife and two little children with him. There was
+no basement; dining and drawing rooms faced each other from the hall,
+and, farther along, was a large, square room entirely panelled, with
+oak ceiling, also, save for one corner not quite finished. Upstairs a
+back room had evidently been used as a carpenter's workshop; so my
+brother, a keen carpenter, decided to use it himself, similarly. They
+were only just settled in when every evening a noise of wood sawing
+began about seven o’clock—loud and distinct, with every now and then
+the “whop” as the sawn piece dropped. Many friends and relatives
+heard it. Then, in the room overhead, began sounds of carpentering;
+loud noises as if wooden boxes were dropped and pushed along; and,
+every night, tools, which had been carefully put back in the racks,
+were found in the morning scattered about the room.
+
+In the oak room a swing was hung from a beam, and my brother had this
+room as a nursery. In broad daylight, on a summer afternoon, would
+come the sound of the swing, then a sound as if someone jumped from
+it, and the swing would go to and fro violently. Many times there
+have been sounds of someone running quickly downstairs.
+
+A previous owner of the house was an old man who did the oak
+panelling himself, but died ere it was finished.
+
+My brother and family still occupy the house, and have grown so
+accustomed to “Bill, the carpenter,” as they call him, that the
+noises do not trouble them at all. Sometimes these noises stop for a
+while, and then go on again louder than ever.
+
+There is absolutely no earthly explanation, but I do know it is
+perfectly true, and many have heard the noises.
+
+Another Reverend’s Story
+
+A REVEREND gentleman tells the following story:—
+
+In an old house in a cathedral town the ghost of a tall, elderly
+woman dressed in black recently gave much trouble to the inmates. The
+ladies living in the house saw the apparition constantly, and got
+quite accustomed to it, but very few servants would stay in the
+house.
+
+The climax came when the cook was found in a fainting condition and
+said that the ghost had tried to strangle her, and showed the marks
+of fingers on her throat.
+
+Something had to be done. A clergyman from the cathedral was called
+in and exorcised the ghost, whereupon the trouble instantly ceased.
+
+Investigation showed that a woman, answering to the apparition, had
+committed suicide in the house about fifty years previously. An
+interesting point is that the ghost was seen in every part of the
+house except the room in which the tragedy had taken place.
+
+The Girl in White
+
+SOME three or four years ago I was present at a Christmas party, when
+the talk turned on ghosts. A gentleman present remarked that ghost
+stories were almost always second-hand. He had never, he declared,
+met anyone who could say that he or she had actually seen a ghost.
+
+A lady—a great friend of my own—at once replied, and, as nearly as I
+can remember it, I will give the story in her own words:—
+
+“Well, then,” she said, “you have now met one who has really seen a
+ghost. My husband here, and others, are well acquainted with the
+story. I was, at the time, staying with my aunt in an old house,
+three flats up, in ——— Edinburgh. The beautifully carved mantelpiece,
+and peculiar markings on the walls, supposed to have been caused by
+cannon ball, showed that the house had once been occupied by some of
+the old Scottish nobility.
+
+“It was in the gathering dusk of a summer evening that I tripped
+merrily down the stairs to meet George. We were not married then, but
+courting. Near the foot of the first stair I was surprised to see a
+girlish figure, clad in white, come gliding up the stairs. Her face
+was in shadow, but her dark hair floated over her shoulders. As she
+came nearer, something impelled me to lay my hand on the railing and
+go backwards step by step. She came on slowly, and, retreating so, I
+had time to see her figure quite distinctly though her face and feet
+remained in shadow. Her white dress was filled with tiny frills right
+up to the waist. She wore a girdle of narrow black velvet that fell
+in loops on the left side. There was black velvet at her wrists, and,
+I think, at her throat. Also I distinctly saw red strands of hair
+amongst the brown.
+
+“I felt no sensation of fear—only a sort of fascination—till I reached
+the top of the stair. I turned my head to see if my aunt's door was
+open, and found it was. Then, somehow, such terror seized me I could
+not look round again, but, screaming loudly, I ran inside and shut
+the door.
+
+“My aunt, who had been chatting to a neighbour, came rushing in, and
+she and others were enraged to think that someone had so frightened
+me. The stairs, back court, and everywhere about was searched, but I
+knew they might have saved their pains. The girl I saw was no
+ordinary being of flesh and blood. Nothing happened afterwards; no
+warning had been conveyed, nor could anyone identify my girlish ghost
+with any known celebrity who had lived there. I do not know why she
+came, nor why she appeared to me, but she was there and, for the
+moment, was as real as myself.”
+
+This lady knows nothing about clairvoyance, had never attended a
+Spiritualists’ meeting in her life, and her simple narrative impressed
+all present as an absolutely true statement. She died last summer, but
+her husband could, I am sure, testify to the truth of what is here
+related.
+
+“The Old Master”
+
+IN the eventide of a busy life I find a pleasant relaxation from my
+little daily duties in reading different items in the Daily News, and
+have been especially interested in those letters on “Visitants.” These
+have brought to my mind incidents which have taken place during my
+lifetime.
+
+In my young days ghosts were much believed in, and some were seen
+which afterwards were proved to be the work of foolish young fellows.
+
+But a short distance from my father’s house was a nice old farm where
+a well-known family had lived for several generations. The
+grandfather of the then resident family had been quite a unique
+character in the district, and had been known as “the old master.” A
+grandson, who had been abroad for a considerable time, returned to
+the old home, bringing a manservant with him. A spare room not being
+available for the man, a comfortable bed was made for him in the big
+farm-kitchen.
+
+The house had for some time had the reputation of being haunted, but
+of this the man knew nothing. However, in the early morning he
+suddenly woke up to see a stout old gentleman walking down a long
+passage which was opposite the bed. He came noiselessly into the
+kitchen, and the old sheep dog that lay on the mat by the fireplace
+at once jumped up, wagging its tail, and ran to him, when he vanished
+from sight.
+
+In the morning the man related his experience to the family, and, on
+being questioned, gave an exact description of “the old master.”
+
+The Little Grey Lady
+
+WITHIN three miles of my native city, on the outskirts of a little
+village, rather isolated by its grounds and its position on a slight
+eminence, stands a picturesque verandahed dwelling, which at one time
+was inhabited by elderly cousins of mine. Their father lived with
+them, and when very occasionally they left him in the house alone for
+a time, he invariably remarked that they need not mind, for he always
+had someone near him. This was his only reference to the spirit which
+haunted the place. Later, the house passed into the possession of
+townsfolk, who removed to it on account of the failing health of
+their only child. They had been there only a few days when a
+frightened scream from the child’s room made them both rush to it, to
+find her sitting up in bed, with eyes protruding and cheeks blanched.
+On seeing them, she wildly shrieked: “The little grey lady, the
+little grey lady! She has gone through the wall.” They soothed her,
+but could not persuade her that it was merely a nightmare.
+
+Within a week of this, the father chanced to be absent from home for
+a few days, and the mother shared the child’s room. Again the wild
+cry arose, suddenly wakening her, and she, with the child, beheld the
+figure of a little old woman, garbed in a grey shawl and apron, who
+moved with the aid of a stick, making a strange little stumping
+noise. She paused by a dressing chest, and appeared to search
+anxiously for something, then just faded out.
+
+For some little time these folk stayed in the house and frequently
+heard the tap of her stick, but did not see her again. The strain of
+the possibility of doing so, however, so told upon them that they
+moved. Before doing so the lady approached another relative of mine
+who had lived many years in the neighbourhood, and asked her if she
+could in any way account for the apparition. She was able to tell her
+the story which she had heard from an old nurse, who had attended the
+“little grey lady” in her last illness. It appears that she had
+sorely wronged her children, misjudging them and leaving her worldly
+goods to others. At the last she was quite unable to speak, but made
+pathetic efforts to communicate something which was evidently very
+much on her mind, at the same time pointing in the direction in which
+the lady and her child had seen her searching. Nothing was ever
+found, but one cannot help thinking that the little grey lady had
+made an effort to right the wrong by trying to tell where some
+document was hidden.
+
+This story has been known to me for many years, and I always look
+curiously at the old place as I pass, and wonder if the restless
+spirit has at last found peace.
+
+A Convincing Experience
+
+AS children we were taught that only ignorant people believed in
+ghosts, and at twenty-one years of age I would have slept, without a
+tremor, in any room reported to be haunted. At that age I went to
+stay with a recently-married brother in a modern and comfortable
+house near Manchester.
+
+On the first night, at about twelve o’clock, I was still awake. A dim
+light came from the street gas, and the fire that was nearly out; but
+it was too dark to see anything distinctly. Suddenly something leant
+over me, and fear that no words can describe possessed me. My hair
+seemed to prick me, and intense cold seemed to penetrate to my heart.
+I thought if it went on I should die. No thought of burglar or any
+physical danger entered my mind. From the first instant I knew that
+this was something from outside normal human life—something “ghostly.”
+
+“Who are you? What do you want?” I gasped to the vague form leaning
+over me. There was no answer. Suddenly it was gone. I jumped out of
+bed, lit the gas, and left it full on. In the daylight I dared not
+tell my tale and ask to change my room; I knew how I should have
+regarded such a tale the day before. When I went to bed the second
+night I left the gas dimly alight. Towards midnight I felt suddenly
+cold, and my hair began to prick. I jumped up and turned the gas on
+full. The fear and cold passed away.
+
+The next night I left the gas full on. Towards midnight I was aware
+of a little sudden cold, a little sense of panic, but both passed
+quickly. After that third night nothing happened.
+
+Some weeks later, when I was no longer afraid, I told my brother that
+something had leant over me in bed. He looked amazed; and, with a sort
+of horror, I saw that something he knew would give reason for the
+terror I had felt.
+
+He said the house had been untenanted for some years because the room
+I slept in was reported to be haunted. A woman had either fallen or
+thrown herself from the window and had been killed, and she was said
+to lean over the bed. My brother utterly disbelieved the tale, and
+forgot it. Had he mentioned it to me I should have laughed at it and
+gone to bed in that room without a tremor.
+
+Those are the facts. I cannot explain them, but in Hudson's Psychic
+Phenomena” there is a very possible explanation of such apparitions.
+
+The Hooded Lady
+
+MY father was a Nonconformist minister. In the autumn of 18— he went
+to reside in the country town of W——, which has the distinction of
+possessing a large county gaol.
+
+Going down, as a schoolgirl, to spend my first Christmas holidays
+there, I was astonished to find such a palatial “manse.” It was
+situated a mile out of the town, had a square turreted tower, an old
+moat (then the channel for a running stream), an encircling
+verandah, stabling for four horses, and a long carriage drive, at the
+gates of which was an old, ivy-covered, uninhabited lodge—an
+altogether unusual dwelling for its modest tenant!
+
+The only room in the turreted tower was occupied by my father as his
+“study,” but he rarely made his sermons in it, we children observed,
+and when asked why, he would reply evasively that he always felt
+chilly and uncomfortable there.
+
+On the night of Christmas Eve, I was restless and fidgety. A younger
+sister occupied another bed in the same room, but she soon dropped
+off to sleep. It was a moonlight night, so I drew up my blind and lay
+watching the fitful shadows of a tree outside as they played over my
+walls.
+
+At last I had an uncanny feeling that another presence was added to
+the occupants of the large old bedroom. I looked towards the door and
+saw a dark figure gliding through it, apparently in a cloak, the hood
+of which encircled the small white face of a woman.
+
+I sprang up frightened. The dark figure walked slowly towards me,
+then deviated to the window, and, without opening it, went through to
+the verandah. I ran across to my sister's bed, thinking she was
+playing a trick on me, but, no, she lay there fast asleep.
+
+I had no sleep that night, you may be sure. On telling my story at
+the breakfast-table next morning, I was merely told that I had been
+reading too many Christmas ghost stories and had doubtless had a bad
+nightmare. Though hardly convinced, I dropped the subject.
+
+A few weeks later my father sent me with a note to the office of a
+solicitor in the town, an elderly man who was deeply versed in all
+the topographical, historical and social knowledge of the place. He
+was a Celt, and the custodian of half the human secrets of the
+district, which may or may not bear on the rest of my story. As I was
+leaving, he asked in a friendly fashion: “How do you like the manse?”
+
+Taken aback somewhat, I replied: “Oh, very much, but—er—” His
+spectacled, curious eyes seemed seeking some private confidence.
+
+“‘But' what? You haven’t seen the manse ghost, I suppose? You have! I
+can see it in your face. Well, did it frighten you?”
+
+Seeing that evasion was impossible, I replied: “Yes, it did—but
+father—”
+
+“Oh, never mind your father. He pooh-poohed it, no doubt. Not psychic
+enough to see it himself, of course. Tell me about it.”
+
+Half ashamed, I told my little story. When I had finished, he pulled
+up his office chair confidentially and said in a low voice: “The
+stewards of my church bought the manse some ten years ago very
+cheaply on account of its reputation for being haunted. Most of its
+tenants since, being religious men, like your father, have never been
+troubled by the story and never see anything spectral; being
+temperamentally unable to, probably. But you, young lady, are
+doubtless psychic and therefore have been privileged. I'll now tell
+you the story its reputation is founded on.
+
+“Fifteen Christmases ago a young lady visitor came to stay at what
+you now know as the manse. A wealthy, rather profligate young
+bachelor in the town fell in love with her and persecuted her with
+his attentions. She rejected his suit. On Christmas Eve he
+accompanied her home from a local party. As she did not return, her
+friends set out in the early morning to look for her and found her
+lying dead in her evening cloak and hood just outside the little
+lodge at the gates.
+
+“Suspicion fell on her rejected suitor. He was tried for murder and
+hanged in the local gaol here, the last execution, by the way, that
+has taken place. It is said that every Christmas Eve this poor girl's
+spirit comes back and haunts the place of the tragedy.”
+
+“So you think the hooded lady I saw was the spirit of that poor young
+girl?” I questioned, horrified.
+
+“Undoubtedly, and it interests me exceedingly that you have had this
+experience before either hearing the story or the traditional
+reputation of the house. Probably I ought not to have told you, but,
+as every Christmas comes round, I, as a believer in psychic
+phenomena, look expectantly for someone to corroborate this
+tradition. Do not be troubled; the ghost will not appear again this
+year. Good morning!”
+
+I spent several more Christmases at the manse, but never again saw
+the ghost.
+
+I leave it to my readers to decide how much my youth and temperament
+and my old friend the solicitor’s Celtic bias towards the romantic
+and the occult had to do with my sincere belief in the objective
+reality of that hooded lady whom I saw twenty years ago.
+
+Uncle’s Story
+
+On special occasions, a great-uncle of mine regales the family with
+the story of the ghost he saw.
+
+How he awoke, one night, with the uneasy feeling that someone or
+something was near, and how he saw a little lady clad in brown at his
+bedside; how he thought it was his wife because she, too, was small,
+but, on second thoughts, knew her to be asleep at his side; how he
+saw the “little brown lady” walk—not glide—into a large cupboard at
+the end of the room; how he roused his wife, and how she, not he, went
+to the cupboard, only to find no trace of the “little lady.”
+
+All this he recounts, and, on his word as a Christian, swears it to
+be true. He appeals to his wife, who nods, and tells us of the colour
+of his face, of the beads of perspiration on his brow, and emphasises
+how terrified he was, and that it was she who investigated.
+
+If a member of the circle ventures to suggest that it was the
+after-effects of a good supper, my uncle has his answer ready, and
+recommences: How a special organist, playing in the village, stayed
+at his house for the night; how, next day at breakfast, on being
+asked how he slept, he replied, ‘Very fair, but I have had a
+disagreeable nightmare,’ how the organist had seen a “little lady”
+enter his room, walk to his bedside, and then disappear into a
+cupboard.
+
+This is the final point in the narrative, and my uncle sits up
+straight in his chair and exclaims, “Here's his address, go to him
+and ask him; he is still alive!” And the doubting one does not move—my
+uncle’s ghost story has another believer. We of the family know that
+our uncle would never have told of the incident if he had not
+actually experienced it, and are, thus, bound to believe in ghosts.
+Yet this ghost signified nothing—no one died, neither misfortune nor
+pleasant surprise occurred, and we have no family tradition.
+
+The Ghost Horse of the Derbyshire Moors
+
+SOME years ago a friend of ours bought a house which was spoken of
+for miles around as “haunted”; one family after another had at
+various times lived at the place, but each of them, in turn, abruptly
+gave up the tenancy, declaring the house was indeed haunted. All
+round the house was a wide drive, and the story ran that every
+midnight at certain periods of the year a horse was heard to gallop
+round the drive, and, at times, reared itself so high as to touch the
+bedroom windows.
+
+Though the horse itself was not visible, it was known to be a white
+one, and sometimes sent out flashing lights.
+
+As soon as our friend was settled in the place, he invited my husband
+and I to go and stay with him. We readily accepted, just laughing at
+the ghost story, and, up to the moment of going to bed, we joked
+about the whole thing. We had been in bed only a short time when we
+heard the regular gallop, gallop, of a horse going round the drive.
+It was too real to make any mistake, and we both seemed to freeze
+with fear and, for a few minutes, were unable to speak. When my
+husband had gained a little self-control, he struck a light, and we
+saw the fingers of his watch pointed to a few minutes after midnight.
+The galloping had now ceased, but there was no sleep for us. As we
+lay awake, each resolving inwardly that, so soon as morning came, we
+would with all speed make for our own home, another terrifying thing
+happened. It was as though someone had given the shutter of our
+bedroom window a heavy blow. Being, by this time, quite unnerved, I
+gave a low moan of despair, but my husband made one big leap for the
+window, and through the light that was just breaking, he saw the
+outline of a huge bat, just flying away from the shutter. Evidently
+it had hit the shutter in its flight, and had caused the rattle which
+had so upset us. So that was one ghost accounted for! But that did not
+explain away the gallop of the horse, as by this time we neither of
+us had any doubts regarding its presence in the grounds.
+
+As the house was walled in on all sides it was obvious no stray
+animal could have entered, and we felt, as morning drew near, we
+should have no option but to join in the general belief that there
+really was something uncanny about the place.
+
+As we sat down to breakfast the following morning our host greeted us
+with—“Well, did you see or hear the ghost?” He laughed merrily as we
+replied, “We did, and have had no sleep, and there are two people
+here who are clearing out as soon as possible—without breakfast for
+preference.”
+
+He then said, “Well it may interest you to know I have laid the ghost
+horse, but thought I’d let you have one night before I explained.” He
+said, “The first night my wife and I slept here we heard the gallop,
+gallop, quite clearly, just at the time we had been told we should
+hear it. My wife became angry as well as frightened and laid the
+blame on me, saying, ‘Why did you buy such a place—you might have
+known all the people who have tried to live here could not have been
+mistaken. I shall not stay in the house another day, and if your
+money is lost, it's lost.’
+
+“She left the house the next morning. I determined I would fathom the
+matter, for, truth to tell, my own confidence had been somewhat
+shaken. So, the next night, instead of going to bed, I decided I
+would walk out into the country, returning at the time the phantom
+horse was supposed to appear. I walked about half a mile and came to
+the turnpike road where I saw and spoke to a policeman. Whilst I was
+talking to him a high dog cart passed us, carrying two brightly
+burning lamps. I made some remark to the policeman about the driver’s
+lonely drive, when he said, ‘Yes, Lord ——— is in residence at ———
+Hall, and he sends his groom to town every night with his letters, in
+time to catch the midnight mail; he always returns about this time. I
+know exactly when he is returning, even if I am by that house on the
+hill there (my house), nearly a mile away.’ ‘Why, how is that?’ I
+queried. ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘the echo of his horse galloping is so
+clear in the still of the night, and, as he passes certain gaps in
+the hedges, his lights shine more clearly than any other lights that
+pass this way.’ I then told him why I was out at that time of night
+and asked him if ever he had heard the story connected with my house,
+to which he answered, ‘No; I have been in this part of the country
+only a few months, and it is only within the past month that I have
+noticed the echo.’
+
+Well, the next night we tested his explanation together, and that was
+how we laid the ‘ghost horse of the Derbyshire Moors.’”
+
+A Ghost Story from Wales
+
+THE following is an authentic story which I obtained first hand from
+a fellow traveller whilst waiting for a train on the small station of
+Ferryside, Carmarthenshire (Wales).
+
+He had, it appears, unfortunately missed the earlier train of the day
+and, to pass away an idle hour or two, had visited the old castle in
+the district. He had some difficulty in obtaining the key, and, so, on
+reaching the castle, was not surprised to find that the door was not
+to be opened easily, as it was obvious that the castle is seldom
+visited these days. At length, when the door did open, imagine his
+surprise at finding an apparently well set up woman staring at him.
+Thinking it must be some sort of caretaker, he essayed to speak to
+her, but, to his great consternation, she disappeared. This so
+startled my companion that he returned at once to the station, where
+I met him very much shaken by his experience.
+
+We, later, got into conversation with a resident, who informed us
+that the castle had the reputation for being haunted, and this was
+the generally accepted story:—
+
+Many years ago, when knights, maids and dragons ruled the romantic
+world, there lived a maid within the castle who was betrothed to a
+young knight of a neighbouring domain. The day of the wedding was
+fixed and all would have ended happily were it not for a great
+tragedy which overcame the proceedings. One day, just after paying
+his court to the young lady, the knight was set upon by robbers,
+killed, and his body flung into the moat. His fiancée could see all
+this, but was unable to help, but she was so overcome that she threw
+herself over the parapet into the moat after him. The body of the
+knight was found some time later washed up on the sea-shore, but that
+of the maid was never discovered, and the belief is that she still
+haunts the castle awaiting the arrival of her beloved.
+
+A Daylight Ghost Story
+
+SOME years ago, some friends took a house for three months at the
+seaside. In August, I went to stay with them arriving about three on
+a sunny afternoon. Coming downstairs from the bedroom, I had to pass
+the open door of a room immediately at the foot of the stairs.
+Standing just inside, with her back towards me, was a woman dressed
+in drab, and with her hair arranged in an old-fashioned way; she was
+looking out of a window, and I paused a moment wondering who it was.
+I continued my way down and, when within three yards of her, the
+figure vanished. I went into the room, looked all round—no one there.
+Then I realised it was a ghost.
+
+Next day I saw a coloured photo of a woman with dress and hair just
+like the apparition’s. It was not until some weeks later that we were
+told the portrait was of the owner's first wife. The house had been
+left her by a relative, and she had planned to have the window, at
+which I had seen her standing, changed into a bow. Sudden illness
+seized her and she died, trying to say something about the window.
+
+Some other friends who had the house lent them before this time, saw
+the figure of a woman going before them up the stairs, but there was
+no one. Another friend was sitting on the lawn facing that window
+when the house was empty, and saw the figure of a woman pass across
+it. She went into the house—no one there—all doors locked.
+
+It was not until months later that we told each other what we had seen.
+
+Are not these apparitions what Mrs. Besant calls “thought-forms?”
+This woman knew nothing of me; her thoughts came back to the familiar
+spot and the familiar dress. When I came too near this “form”
+apparently so solid, but as evanescent as a soap bubble, it broke and
+vanished.
+
+“The Very Same Ghost”
+
+AS a young medical student on holiday I used often to stay with a
+doctor uncle, and even now, looking back after all these years, I
+feel grateful for all I learnt while accompanying him on his rounds.
+
+Uncle Will was a bachelor, too matter-of-fact and prosaic ever to
+fall in love, I thought. The more surprised, therefore, was I one day
+to hear him recount his treatment of a patient, a young lady
+suffering only from what to me seemed an acute attack of hysteria,
+nothing more. This patient was one of those highly-strung young
+ladies who easily develop hysteria, and the story she narrated to
+Uncle Will of what had brought her to the pitiful state she was in
+seemed to me a tissue of rubbish. She vividly described her meeting
+with a real ghost on her way home late from a party, alone, through
+some accidental misunderstanding. Her way lay past a lonely mansion
+infrequently occupied, rich in historical associations, but so far
+unclaimed by any ghost. Miss S———, however, succeeded in describing
+the one she saw in great detail, from his cavalier hat to his buckled
+shoes. He was leaning against a gate through which she had to pass,
+and he moved aside courteously to make way for her. She thanked him,
+and to her horror, he vanished into thin air. The clear moonlight and
+the snow combined to make any rational explanation impossible.
+
+That was her tale. “A silly fanciful girl, over-excited by the
+evening's pleasure,” was my comment.
+
+“Yet this girl came a distance of three miles through the worst
+thunderstorm we've had for years, in the dead of night, to fetch me
+to her sick mother a short while ago,” answered Uncle Will, and then
+added: “Good thing I’m her medical man and not a raw fellow like you,
+laddie; I can understand her, because (I have told no one else) I
+myself have seen at the very same place the very same ghost.”
+
+The Phantom Carriage
+
+SOME years ago, whilst staying at a little town in Somerset, I became
+acquainted with the chauffeur of a family who resided in a stately
+old mansion, standing in a large and well-kept park.
+
+One evening, as the family were away, I was invited to pay my friend
+a visit. The walk of two miles brought me to the drive gates, and
+from there to the house was about three-quarters of a mile across the
+park, which was divided in several places by iron railings, having
+white gates across the drive. These were always kept closed when the
+family were away.
+
+After a chat and smoke with my friend, I started my homeward journey
+about 9:30, it being a beautiful moonlight night. I had got about
+one-third of the way down the drive when a pair of carriage lamps
+loomed out ahead, and knowing the people were away, I was surprised
+to meet a conveyance coming to the house so late at night. The lights
+came nearer and I could distinctly hear the horses’ hoofs on the
+drive. I had just reached one of the gates and decided to stay and
+hold it open for the vehicle to pass. On came the two-horse carriage
+which was now quite visible, and I shouted to the driver that I would
+hold the gate open for him, but I got no reply. The carriage was now
+within about ten yards, when, suddenly, the whole lot disappeared.
+
+One can quite imagine my feelings as I clung to the gate, not knowing
+whether to go forward or back to the house. I learned afterwards that
+this conveyance had been seen several years before by some of the old
+servants.
+
+London
+
+CRYPTS have always held a strange fascination for me. Although a
+staunch sceptic, I am deeply interested in psychical research, and I
+have systematically sought out crypts on the supposition that if
+there are such things as ghosts they would surely prefer to manifest
+themselves in those creepy vaults. But only once has a ghost appeared
+to me, and that was in the crypt of a hoary old church in
+Lincolnshire. I was quite alone; the verger was away from home, and I
+had to borrow the keys from the rector. It was late on a September
+afternoon and the light, even with the aid of my bicycle lamp, was
+very dim. I wandered around, examining dates on tombs until, passing
+behind a pillar, I was scared to see a man dressed in black leaning
+against the recumbent effigy of some medieval worthy. “That must be
+the verger, after all,” I thought; “but how strange! He must have
+duplicate keys.” So I approached him—cautiously, I admit—and, as I
+did so, he rose slowly, raised a deprecating hand, as though to stop
+my advance, and then gradually vanished into space! The dark eeriness
+of the place rather got on my nerves, and I slipped out quickly to
+tell the rector of my experience. “Ah!” said he, “you've evidently
+seen Black Robert the Monk. There's a legend here that in the
+fifteenth century the poor fellow was locked in the crypt for some
+offence; but they forgot all about him for a time and when they went
+to release him, he was stark dead. His ghost appears occasionally,
+and the visitation, strange to say, is said to bring the church good
+luck. One would have expected him to cherish a grudge. Anyhow, last
+time, a wealthy patron gave £100 to our fund. This time—er—” “It will
+be only half a crown,” I responded.
+
+An Unwelcome Travelling Companion
+
+A MOST weird experience I once had made me less cynical about
+ghosts. I travelled regularly by the 8:30 a.m. train to the town
+where I worked, and the train was usually crowded with business
+people. I soon began to notice that one compartment was always empty,
+but for no apparent reason. One morning, arriving at the last minute,
+I climbed into the deserted carriage as the whistle sounded. I
+settled down to a book and gave no thought to my solitude. The train
+had been travelling some minutes when I was disturbed by a slight
+noise which sounded like subdued sobbing. It was not a corridor
+train, so I could only explore beneath the seats, but found nothing
+there. I eventually put it down to the noise of the engine, but, as
+the train gathered speed, the noise became distinct from any other
+sound and seemed to get louder and more plaintive. The thought of the
+coming tunnel made my heart beat quickly. The sobbing stopped before
+we reached the tunnel, however, but, as the overpowering darkness
+engulfed the carriage, I had a ghastly sensation of being choked.
+This lasted for at least two minutes. I tried to cry out, but,
+perhaps from sheer fright, no sound came from my throat. As we
+steamed out of the tunnel, the sobbing re-started, but, after a
+while, panted itself into silence, which seemed to my now hysterical
+nerves more terrible than the wailing noise itself. I practically
+tottered out of that train on reaching my destination, and was not
+surprised to learn afterwards that there had been a suicide in that
+compartment which accounted for the passengers avoiding it.
+
+The Black Dog of the Cotswolds
+
+WEST-COUNTRYMEN are very sensitive to ridicule. That is why a
+stranger might inquire from Bath to Bredon without obtaining a single
+admission concerning the Black Dog of the Cotswolds. But let him live
+amongst us; let him gain our confidence, and he may interview
+witnesses by the dozen. Few, indeed, have met the creature face to
+face, though many claim a distant glimpse, and it would be hard to
+find a shepherd past middle-age who had not come upon the foot-prints
+of the phantom, starting from nowhere and leading nowhere, in the
+early morning snow. Always in the snow he comes and always by
+moonlight. It is now some three years since old Dick Slingbraces
+passed to rest, leaving the following story to perpetuate his memory.
+
+“Dogs or foxes had been making havoc with the early lambs,” said he;
+“and one February night I took my gun to watch for the varmints in
+the lee of the sheeppens, there being mebbe an inch of snow on the
+land. The east wind was like a knife from the grindstone, with clouds
+racing past the moon well on in her second quarter. I might have
+closed my eyes for a second or two with the cold, and when I opened
+them, sir, there he stood not thirty yards away—a coal-black hound
+bigger than a prize ram, and of no breed on earth. I knew him in an
+instant—the Black Dog of the Wolds. Now you don’t shoot a dog until
+he takes a lamb if you want the law on your side, but, fearing for my
+life, I pointed my gun at him—and he vanished to nowhere. I dropped
+the muzzle and, all of a shake, I peeped over my shoulder, only to
+see him behind me, the moonlight striking into his eyes like blue
+flames. With a choking, dizzy feeling I screwed my old gums together
+and up with my gun again—and again he vanished. Ay, and again he was
+behind me. How long he played with me in this fashion I don’t
+recollect, but, in the end, the gun went off of itself, and the next
+thing my grandson George, was helping me up and asking me if I felt
+better. And being three-score and ten, the following week I put by my
+crook and took to my old age pension. They say,” added the old
+shepherd, “he mostly comes as a warning that ‘tis time to retire; but
+I will mention that morning showed the snow trampled like a
+fold-yard, but never a print beyond the boundary wall.”
+
+It Happened in Ireland
+
+MANY years ago, I used to visit a brother and sister-in-law living in
+a rambling old house in Ireland. Nightly, the household would gather
+in the dining-room for prayers, after which we retired to our
+rooms—the maids to their quarters at the far end of the house—my
+brother and sister-in-law would leave me at my door and then pass
+down the corridor to their own room.
+
+I am usually a sound sleeper. Nevertheless, midnight would find me
+awake listening to the ructions in the dining-room below—the click,
+click of glasses and decanters, excited voices, doors opening,
+banging—after a little while, silence. On the first occasion I asked
+my brother why he made so much unnecessary noise at midnight. He
+looked troubled and simply remarked that he had not gone downstairs
+again. I tackled my sister-in-law, but all to no purpose. Deciding
+that they were indulging in drinking bouts on the sly, I said no more.
+
+One night, however, feeling very tired and unable to sleep because of
+the noise, I was furious and decided to see for myself what my
+relations were up to. I slipped on my dressing-gown and slippers and
+made for my door; but not before the handle was turned violently and,
+although in total darkness, I could feel a current of air from the
+open door (I always locked it before retiring). Then a tremendous
+“Force” seemed to be pushing me backwards towards the bed, where,
+conscious of another “presence” in the room, I fell back exhausted.
+
+My brother and sister-in-law listened attentively to the recital of
+the previous night’s happenings, expressed their regret for so
+disturbed a night, and advised me to forget all about it.
+
+Not a little chagrined at their reticence, I resolved to return home
+at once.
+
+On the way to the station, I met the clergyman—a very intellectual
+man—who happened to be a frequent visitor at the house. I related the
+midnight happenings, my surmise, and, lastly, the unaccountable
+experience of the previous night. I quite expected him to pooh-pooh
+the whole thing. Instead, he looked very grave, said that in olden
+times the surrounding hills were infested by a band of particularly
+murderous brigands who made that house their occasional headquarters.
+Men were decoyed, robbed and disposed of within its gates. “And,” he
+ended, “we can but pray and hope that the poor, unquiet spirits may
+be granted a final resting-place. Do not, my child, make it a subject
+of idle gossip.”
+
+A School Teacher's Story
+
+SOME years ago, I, along with a sister ten years older than myself,
+was teaching in a Midland town. We had the greatest difficulty in
+obtaining rooms, no one seemed to want lady teachers. At last we
+succeeded, but not to our liking, as the house was old and gloomy and
+the landlady of a very saturnine countenance. We found she and her
+daughter were the only other occupants of the house.
+
+As it was winter time, we asked if she had an attic where we could
+store our bikes. We were told that there was no attic.
+
+We were nightly disturbed by strange sounds as of someone going up
+and down stairs and raking the fire—this, after the landlady and her
+daughter had retired hours before. When questioned, the landlady only
+replied that the house was old and creaky.
+
+I was eighteen and full of ghosts, but my sister was of the cool
+unimaginative kind and not in the least nervy. She was constantly
+reassuring me that everything was all right, but I knew she thought
+different, as she never left me alone, and we always went up stairs
+together, even in the day time.
+
+Our bedroom looked out on to the river, and the Midland railway ran
+between.
+
+A chest of drawers stood in one corner, and one of the drawers was
+full of papers, which the landlady informed us were left by a
+previous boarder who had occupied our rooms, and promised to return
+for them. Several were legal-looking documents, and the rest a mass
+of old correspondence.
+
+One day, as I was leaving the bath-room, a gleam of winter sunshine
+revealed an opening in the panelling opposite. On looking I saw a
+stair and a tray at the bottom with the remains of a meal. I
+immediately brought my sister. To say we were amazed is putting it
+mildly, after our landlady’s denial of an attic. We felt this had
+been the repast of our nightly disturber, but did not mention it to
+the landlady.
+
+A few nights after, there was a singular happening. I awoke in the
+early hours to find my sister sitting up in bed. I drowsily asked her
+if she was ill, but she answered rather abruptly and told me to go to
+sleep. I was roused by her manner and sat up trying to peer into her
+face. After much questioning, she said: “There has been a man in this
+room.” Although I was terrified, I tried to laugh and say “That is
+impossible as our door is locked and bolted.”
+
+My thoughts had gone to the occupant of the attic. She said: “This
+was no human visitor; he went over to the chest and examined the
+papers, and then came and leaned over the bed in a grief-stricken
+attitude.” She was so calm whilst telling it and described the man as
+very tall and slightly bent, with a sad face and iron-grey hair.
+
+Needless to add, we prayed for daylight and got to school as early as
+possible, where our ghost caused great excitement, the other teachers
+giving credence to the story, coming from my sister and not my
+imaginative self.
+
+On returning to our rooms for lunch, the landlady came in with a
+newspaper and pointed out a paragraph giving an account of a man
+being cut to pieces on the railway just at the back of the house. She
+said, “He had your rooms Miss, and those were his papers.” My sister
+said he was a tall man and went on to give the landlady a description
+of our midnight visitor. She said: “Why, Miss, did you know him,” and
+then my sister told her the story. She said it was an exact likeness
+of the man who had always promised to return for the papers. That
+explains our ghostly visitor. We made a hasty exit that same day.
+
+Weeks after, we heard of the police raiding the house and capturing
+an escaped prisoner. It was the landlady’s husband, and she had had
+him in hiding all those weeks. That explained the tread on the stairs
+and the raking of the fire when the prisoner escaped from his attic
+hiding.
+
+
+OTHER STORIES OF HAUNTED HOUSES
+
+A MAGISTRATE’S STORY
+
+THIS comes from a Justice of the Peace in the Western Counties:
+
+Retiring to bed one Sunday night to my room situate off a rather long
+landing in an old farmhouse near here, I slept from about 10:30 p.m.
+to about 1:30 a.m. I was then awakened by hissing noises—very similar
+to those made by a flock of geese—coming from the landing. This was
+followed by footsteps proceeding to a spare room at the end of the
+landing. The footsteps died away, and immediately there commenced a
+violent rattling of empty milk pans and other odd things stored in
+that room. The footsteps would again be heard, and this was followed
+by severe shaking of my own and other bedroom doors in the house. I
+sat up in bed and tried to call to the person in the next room, but
+found I was unable to do so, apparently from shock. These noises
+continued without a break until 4 a.m. Then the footsteps seemed to
+go along the landing, down the stairs, across the hall, and through
+the front door, which seemed to close with a huge bang. When all
+seemed quiet again I gained courage enough to go downstairs, and
+found the house in order as at the time of retiring to bed, and,
+stranger still, the front door was still bolted and barred as usual
+on the inside. The rest of the household had heard exactly the same
+sounds as myself. Some who had come to stay in the house for a
+holiday hurriedly returned to their homes in Birmingham the same
+morning, thus losing their proposed fortnight's stay. I also changed
+my residence, and did not sleep in the house again.
+
+Moreover, I knew personally a tenant of the same house who heard
+strange noises there; he actually sat up at nights with a friend to
+try and find out the cause and went so far as to take up the
+flooring. The mysterious noises both in my own case and on three
+other occasions within twelve months could never be explained, and
+to-day I am unable to offer any solution.
+
+THE MISSING PAPERS
+
+I can vouch (writes a clergyman from Yorkshire) for the truth of the
+following story:—
+
+A clergyman of the Church of England was asked to preach at some
+special services in the Midlands. He spent the weekend with the local
+squire, and when he came to take his departure he said to his host,
+“Would you mind letting one of your servants take me round the
+house?” “Certainly, I'll show you round myself.” The clergyman was
+shown all over the mansion, but was still unsatisfied. “There's still
+a room in the house that I have not seen, and I want to see it.” The
+squire protested that he had been all over the house, but the
+clergyman was obdurate. At length the squire remembered an old disused
+attic. “But,” said he, “no one has been there for years.” “I want to
+see that attic.” Accordingly the door of this attic was forced open,
+and the party made their way in. “Ah, this is the room,” said the
+vicar, “and somewhere in this room there is a cupboard—there it is. I
+want it opened.”
+
+The cupboard was forced open and a bundle of papers fell at the feet
+of the vicar, who picked them up and handed them to the squire. The
+squire opened them and uttered a gasp of astonishment. “Why, these
+are the deeds of my estate. I have been searching for them for
+months. Had I not found them very soon the chances are that I should
+have been involved in serious financial loss. But how did you know
+they were here?”
+
+“I didn’t know they were here,” said the vicar slowly, “but last
+night I was conscious of the presence of someone in my room, and I
+became aware that somewhere in this house was a room I wanted to see,
+in which was a cupboard I wanted to open.”
+
+THE HAUNTED LANE AT HENDON
+
+THE district between Hendon and Kingsbury is believed to be haunted.
+
+Thirty-five years ago, Welsh Harp Fair was bigger than to-day. On
+Bank Holidays I used to visit friends at Neasden, near Wembley, and
+we boys used to walk across the fields to Hendon.
+
+The homeward road (Cool Oak-lane), after crossing the Welsh Harp,
+wound up a hill between tall dark trees and silent ponds, and past
+the blank wall of the grounds surrounding a large house.
+
+Although only five miles from the Marble Arch, it was very lonely:
+being cut off from London by the Harp, a sheet of water a mile long.
+
+The people of Neasden believed that the road was haunted. I remember
+the boys speaking of actually seeing a tall white ghost. This story
+may have been originated in the contrast between the brilliantly
+illuminated fair and the dark country road. Of course, the fair was
+not always on, so there was some other reason for the superstition.
+Anyhow, the neighbourhood is unchanged, and the children of to-day
+keep away from the place at nights.
+
+CHESHIRE
+
+SOME years ago, I, with my wife and family, lived in a house which
+was undoubtedly haunted. One day, my wife was in the hall with the
+baby in her arms when, suddenly, a figure in white appeared, and she
+had to draw to one side to allow it to pass her. She saw the same
+apparition on several occasions and, later, a nurse, who we had in
+the house during my wife's illness, also saw it at different times.
+One day she was in the bathroom when the figure appeared, walked
+through the room, opened the door, and passed out. On another
+occasion she was having breakfast in the nursery adjoining the
+bedroom when she saw a figure in white standing in the doorway. She
+thought it was my wife who had got out of bed against instructions,
+and she immediately went into the room next door to “blow up” the
+patient, and found she had never left her bed. Ultimately, I myself
+saw it one evening when in the bedroom (the door of which was open)
+brushing my hair before the mirror, I suddenly became conscious of
+something unusual and saw a figure mount the stairs, pause at the top
+and then proceed on its way upwards.
+
+Subsequently, we were very much disturbed by loud hammerings which
+always commenced immediately we went to bed at night, continued the
+whole night through, but finished always immediately the servant got
+up in the morning. These noises became so violent that we finally had
+to give up the house. On making inquiries, I found that in the
+vicinity of the spot where the house was situated, a young woman,
+whose husband was a captain and had lost his life at sea, had lived
+and had drowned herself in a pit not very far away, some years
+previously.
+
+KENT
+
+SOME years ago, I went home to stay with my parents for holiday. They
+had recently moved into an old mansion which had been converted into
+a double dwelling-house, both parties using the same staircase and
+hall. During my stay, my mother and father took the opportunity to go
+away for a week end, leaving me to get meals for a friend who lived
+with them, and whose duties as a postal servant often brought him
+home in the early hours of the morning. My mother feared, as I was
+young, I might not rise in time to get his breakfast. I gave my
+promise I would do it, but did not mention how. Accordingly, I sat up
+all night busy with fancy work until it was time for me to get ready
+a nice hot breakfast. I felt sure if I went to bed at my usual hour I
+should not waken. When all was ready—about 2 a.m.— I went into the
+hall to listen for any sound of the friend coming. The door of the
+room I was in faced the staircase which was very wide, and, right in
+front of me, about half way down the staircase, stood a tall
+gentleman clad in brown velvet jacket, cord breeches, leggings and
+huntsman's cap. Thinking it might be a friend of the people in the
+other half of the house, I went in and closed the door, wondering why
+he was roaming about the house at that hour. When the friend arrived
+for breakfast, I told him what I had seen. He laughed heartily and
+then said: “So you have seen him?” I asked where the joke came in, and
+he calmly told me he saw the same gentleman repeatedly—he haunted the
+house. Needless to say, I did not spend another night in sitting up.
+
+When mother returned and I told her my experience, she was ever so
+sorry she had left me; she did not dream I would stay up. She then
+told me that night after night she and father were kept awake with
+music and dancing somewhere close to their bedroom, and they could
+find out nothing to account for it. Some time after, the place was
+pulled down and a large jar of golden coins was found embedded in one
+of the walls of the bedroom in which my parents slept. This may sound
+to some people like a fairy tale, but it is perfectly true, and,
+whenever I think of the place, I can see that gentleman who, they
+told me, always vanished as soon as you had seen him.
+
+SEAFORD
+
+WE were living, in 1912, in a quiet Midland town, and the household
+comprised my husband, small son, maid and myself. The son was
+recovering from an attack of croup, and my husband and I took it in
+turns to sleep with him in the large bedroom. As the doctor gave a
+good report of the invalid, I was looking forward to a good night's
+rest in the smaller room. When bedtime came, I opened the window and
+door, and, after a short time, was fast asleep. I do not know how
+long it was before I became wide awake, feeling that something evil
+was hovering around me. There was nothing to be seen, but a bad
+influence or presence made itself felt, and I was simply terrified. I
+was in a cold sweat of fear, afraid to move lest something should
+happen to me. What that something was, I did not know then, neither
+do I know now.
+
+My husband slept in the room on the next night, and he said he was
+troubled by bad nightmare dreams—but would say nothing more.
+
+When the doctor called, he advised that our son should go into the
+smaller room in the daytime for a change, so we soon had him
+comfortably settled there in bed. But he wanted amusement, like most
+boys do when they are well enough, so we fetched the kitten upstairs
+and placed it on the bed, for they were very fond of each other.
+
+Alas! before we could ask ourselves what was the matter, the kitten
+seemed to turn pale, and, tucking his tail between his legs, he
+absolutely bolted off the bed and rushed headlong downstairs. Of
+course, we joked about it to our son, and called to the maid to carry
+the kitten and a saucer of milk upstairs again. Again we tried to
+tempt the kitten to remain on the bed, but it was impossible. Again
+it rushed downstairs as if terrified.
+
+What was to be done? I determined to sleep there at night, as we
+arranged and, again, I was awakened by the knowledge that some evil
+was present in the room around me. I was still terrified and unable
+to move, but was able to pray to God to save me, body, soul and
+spirit, and, after about ten minutes’ silent prayer, the influence
+or presence, or whatever it was, went, and the air in the room became
+light and fresh and buoyant as it used to be. The next day the kitten
+remained upstairs and was a joy to the invalid.
+
+Can these experiences be accounted for? I wonder! I was afterwards
+told that a crime of continual cruelty had occurred in that room a
+few years before. If so, why did the evil influence revisit the room,
+and not the perpetrators of the cruelty?
+
+This is a true account of what actually happened in a pretty little
+house near ———, in Warwickshire.
+
+CAMBRIDGE
+
+A FEW years ago, when I was studying for my degree in a university
+college, my friends and I had a strange experience. The women's
+hostel in which we lived, had formerly been a gentleman's house, and
+it was rumoured that at times this country squire, who was now dead,
+used to revisit his old home. Most of us laughed at this as a “ghost
+tale,” but the following incident made even the most sceptical wonder.
+
+One night, my friend and I, who shared a room, went to bed as usual.
+After putting out the light, we pulled up the blind. This was a
+regular habit of ours, so that we should wake up easily in the
+morning. About 2 a.m. I awoke, and found, to my astonishment, the
+electric light switched on, and the blind down. I awakened my friend,
+and asked her if she was responsible, but she had been asleep the
+whole time. Neither of us had ever walked in our sleep, so, feeling
+that something uncanny had happened, we got up to investigate.
+Listening intently, we heard weird noises on the floor below, a sort
+of rattling and scraping. This continued for some time, and then
+gradually grew fainter and died away. Feeling very nervous, we sat
+waiting for the sounds to return, but nothing more happened, and we
+were glad when morning came.
+
+At breakfast, we reported the night’s happenings. When we had
+finished, a “fresher” spoke up—one who knew nothing of the hostel
+legend. She said that during the night, a gentleman had stood by her
+bed and smiled kindly at her. We eagerly questioned her, and she was
+able to tell us exactly what he was wearing. When she had finished,
+our Warden exclaimed: “Why, that was old Mr. C., the late owner of
+this house; the last time I saw him he was dressed like that!”
+
+Was the same old gentleman responsible for turning on our light, and
+for the other strange happenings of that night?
+
+READING
+
+WHILST living at a “school house” in a lonely country district, where
+my father was a schoolmaster, I was startled one day, when sitting in
+my bedroom reading, by someone walking upstairs as though with a
+stick. I rushed out and, on finding no one, I ran downstairs to
+ascertain whether the rest of the family had heard the same noise.
+Everyone paid “No!”
+
+A few months afterwards, my mother happened to be ill, and a maid,
+who had lived in the same house when it was occupied by a former
+schoolmaster, came to live with us. One afternoon, while the rest of
+us were out, mother asked this maid to sit upstairs with her, and,
+strange though it may seem, they were both startled by the same noise
+as I had heard months before—someone walking upstairs with a stick.
+“Oh, it’s quite all right,” said the maid, “that's only Miss S., who
+died here a few years ago; she was troubled with fits and always
+walked with a stick.”
+
+Funnily enough, this girl said that Miss S. used to place the stick
+on the landing on top of the stairs before walking to her bedroom,
+which she did (if it really was her “ghost”) on those two occasions.
+
+SUTTON SCOTNEY
+
+MY father made the acquaintance of a retired colonel, who lived six
+miles from our home. Sometimes father went over to tea with him. On
+one occasion father saw a short thick man pass through the
+drawing-room without opening the door. He felt so uncomfortable, that
+the colonel asked him what was the matter. Father explained. “Oh,”
+said the colonel, “that was only our little pedlar. The legend is
+that a pedlar was seen to come to this house, but he never left it.
+His pedlary is said to be put behind that fireplace.”
+
+“Why don't you have it opened?” asked my father. “No fear, I don't
+want to, the pedlar doesn't worry me.”
+
+COLEFORD
+
+SOME years ago, I was sitting alone in the sitting-room one Sunday
+night, after the rest of the family had retired, and I was reading
+the case of little “Teddy Slingsby.” The banging of a door which
+opened out of the kitchen to the scullery aroused me to investigate,
+and to secure it for the night, as always was done, with a bolt. When
+I reached the centre of the kitchen I could see that the door was
+wide open and, it being a nice moonlight night, I could see the trees
+in the garden and the ivy hanging on the old wall. I stepped up to
+the door, putting out my hand to close it and, to my horror, I found
+that the door was then closed and bolted securely, and my view of the
+moonlit garden was at once cut out.
+
+I turned for the staircase and, upon arriving at the top, I entered
+my mother's room, too scared and speechless to tell her what I had
+seen. I placed my back against the wall for support, and slid down,
+sitting on the floor. When I had recovered, I explained to mother
+what I had seen. She advised me to get to bed at once, which I did. I
+had not buried myself in bed very long before I heard a rustling, as
+that of paper, and, looking up, I saw a figure all in white standing
+with hand to its head, and elbow against my bedroom door. I could not
+utter a word, and I watched the figure completely disappear.
+
+This I told the remainder of the family next morning, and my mother
+could then say that she had seen the same thing herself. Also I heard
+from the people who had lived in the house previously, that members
+of that family had seen the same apparition.
+
+IPSWICH
+
+EIGHT years ago my friend, a dark-haired girl, and I took a job as
+servants, at a large mansion near here. To my surprise, I was given a
+most beautiful and luxuriantly-appointed bedroom in the front of the
+house, my friend sleeping in the servants quarters.
+
+About a week later, I was wakened at two o'clock in the morning by my
+bedroom door opening, and a dark-haired woman approached the bed.
+Thinking it was my friend, who wanted something, I sat up and asked:
+“What do you want, Olive?” The figure turned towards the
+dressing-table and disappeared. I ran along to my friend's room. She
+was sleeping, and I spent the night with her. The next morning, the
+housekeeper informed me that there had been similar complaints from
+guests and the room had been closed for years, but they had wondered
+if it would be all right after the lapse. Needless to add, I refused
+to sleep in the room again.
+
+HULL
+
+SOME years ago, I worked in a drug warehouse with a labourer, Mr. T.
+(since dead), who had a supernatural experience. He and his wife and
+family moved into a house which had been empty a long time. The
+removal took place after he left his day's work, and the beds were
+hastily improvised for the night. He and his wife were awakened by a
+crash, which sounded just over the bed head. Both simultaneously
+asked: “Did you hear that noise?” Mr. T. arose next morning to go
+downstairs to make the fire, and, from the top of the stairs, saw the
+figure of a woman sitting on the bottom step nursing a child. The
+apparition faded away as he reached the bottom. He dared not mention
+it to his wife, but he found another residence, and left the house
+the same week. Subsequent inquiries revealed the fact that there had
+been a murder committed in the house.
+
+READING
+
+DURING the war I went to live for a time with some relatives in the
+suburbs of a large city in the Midlands. One Sunday night, as I lay
+awake longing for sleep which would not come, I was startled by a
+strange noise close beside my bed, like the deep, heavy breathing of
+a very large dog, but much louder than anything of the kind I had
+ever heard before. Then I felt the weight of a very heavy hand or paw
+across my right foot. The moments seemed like hours and I became
+paralysed with terror and unable to move or make a sound. I think,
+eventually, I became unconscious. In the morning I told a member of
+the family of my horrible experience and asked her not to mention it,
+as I did not wish to frighten the young people in the house.
+
+After I had been away some months, I received a letter from the
+relative to whom I had told this, saying that her sister had been
+frightened by the same noise in this bedroom, and her husband had
+declared there was someone in the room. They got up and searched the
+room but found nothing.
+
+Can anyone give a solution of these strange noises? I should be glad
+to have it explained. Do I believe in ghosts? No! Not until I see
+one, which I have no desire to do.
+
+COWES
+
+SOME years ago, some cousins of mine, who lived in an old house at
+Reading, frequently saw a little old lady who used to come and sit in
+one of the bedrooms at night. They were so used to seeing her that
+they lost their fear. Later, the house was pulled down, and a box
+containing a skeleton was discovered. They made inquiries and found
+that, years before they lived there, a murder had been committed. An
+old uncle of mine, who was a missionary, and who sometimes paid my
+cousins a visit, always saw the old lady when he slept there.
+
+MARKYATE
+
+MY husband was a man who would laugh if you talked of ghosts, saying
+he didn't believe there were such things. However, he had to go away
+to work five years ago, and he and a mate got lodgings with an old
+lady whose mother, at the age of ninety, died not long before. The
+first night his mate had plenty to drink so slept soundly. My
+husband, however, being in a strange place, couldn't sleep. During
+the night the clothes were lifted off his feet and strange knockings
+went around the bed. He lit the candle, but found nothing. In the
+morning he told his mate, and the next night his mate woke him and
+said: “Hill, light the candle; this place is haunted!” They couldn't
+sleep for the tugging at the clothes and the knocking around the bed.
+They told their experience to a man from the village who was working
+with them, and he said the old lady was supposed to have left money
+in the bed. They stayed on for the week, and each night the same
+thing occurred. On the Saturday morning they stripped the bed and made
+a thorough search, but found nothing. When my husband returned home he
+looked like a man who had had a severe illness. He told us the story;
+now he believes in ghosts.
+
+BOSCOMBE
+
+IN the wartime I spent a holiday in a Dorset village, and the first
+night, whilst sleeping in a bedroom in a lonely cottage, I was
+awakened by the door noiselessly opening, and the figure of a man
+dressed in white garments passing through the room and talking softly
+to himself. There was only a woman in the cottage and she was fast
+asleep.
+
+A year after, I read in some old memoirs of two of Nelson's
+lieutenants who, whilst ashore at Weymouth, met two women and
+accompanied them home. During supper they quarrelled, and one woman
+threw a flat-iron at Lieutenant ——— and killed him. His companion was
+horrified and, urging the women to be silent, he took the body on his
+horse to a lonely spot in Dorset, and buried it and rejoined his ship.
+
+The spot where the lieutenant was buried was the spot on which stands
+the cottage in which I had this strange experience.
+
+CROYDON
+
+SOME years ago, whilst spending a night in an old inn, I was awakened
+by the disagreeable impression that I was not alone. To my amazement,
+at the foot of my bed (an old-fashioned four-poster), stood a girl,
+with a baby in her outstretched arms. Her eyes were fixed imploringly
+on mine, as though begging for help or protection. I noticed that she
+had a mob cap on her head, and a quaint wrapper of some fashion
+unknown to me.
+
+I begged her to tell me what I could do for her, but she made no
+reply, and, a moment later, she had disappeared.
+
+I rose at once and searched the room. Door and windows were securely
+fastened, and I could find no trace of my mysterious visitor.
+Convinced at last that I had been dreaming, I returned to bed.
+Presently, the woman with her baby reappeared, this time at the side
+of the bed! She spoke no word, but, with the same expression of
+anguish, gazed imploringly at me. Then she vanished. When for the
+third time, I became aware of her presence beside my pillow, I was
+seized with terror and called loudly for help. Then I must have
+fainted for, when I came to myself, it was broad daylight. When
+questioned, my hostess could give me no explanation. She admitted,
+however, that she had heard my cries, but that neither she nor her
+servants dared enter the chamber after nightfall. The room was
+supposed to be haunted, and other visitors had seen the woman and her
+baby as described by me. The inn has since been pulled down and a
+hostel erected in its place.
+
+LEVERSHULME
+
+MY father became tenant of the Manor House in a village in the
+Midlands and moved in with mother and six children, five girls
+(including me) and one boy. I was then twelve years old. Many were the
+warnings kindly given to us by the villagers that the house was
+haunted, but, being a merry family, and father and brother keen on
+shooting, they laughingly warned off any intruders from outside. We
+younger were not so dubious. The rooms were large and opened off long
+passages and had an eerie effect, especially at night.
+
+The first I remember of anything disturbing was when my brother
+injured his foot and was laid up for a time. My eldest sister used to
+attend to him, and was surprised one morning, when she took his
+breakfast, by him asking why she came into his room during the night
+without speaking. She questioned him, and he told her someone came
+into his room and leaned over him as if to see if he was asleep, and,
+when he spoke, and got no answer, he felt to see if his watch was
+there, thinking it was someone after valuables. As he raised himself,
+the visitor disappeared. This happened several nights in succession.
+On another occasion, my mother was ill and, during the night, called
+to my sisters to take down the dog, which she said had jumped on her
+bed. They, too, could not explain what had happened, as the dog was
+peacefully sleeping downstairs and never was allowed upstairs. Father
+also had his share, for, while sitting reading one night, after
+everyone else had retired, and all doors locked and bolted, he was
+suddenly aroused from his book by hearing footsteps. Then the door at
+the end of a long passage was unlocked, and there came a gust of wind
+as if it was opened. The door closed, and was bolted again, and
+footsteps came towards the room. He asked who was there and,
+receiving no reply, went to investigate, but nothing was to be seen,
+and the door was still locked and bolted.
+
+Father told the landlord of the experience and the latter stated he
+had the same thing happen when living there and could offer no
+explanation. I can well remember my feelings of relief when we
+removed to another house in a neighbouring village. That, too, had
+the reputation of being haunted, but, although we lived there some
+years, nothing happened to verify the statement.
+
+WIDNES
+
+JUST before the war I thought I would remove to a house I noticed had
+been vacant for a long period. On interviewing the landlord of the
+house, I was informed I could have the tenancy of the house two
+shillings per week cheaper than other tenants paid for houses in the
+same row. He would offer no explanation for this generous act. I,
+accordingly, moved into the house the same day. Retiring to bed the
+first night, I awoke about 12:30 a.m. to find standing in the
+moonlight that was streaming through the window, a man who I knew,
+but had not heard of for years. He was bleeding from a deep wound in
+the neck that had obviously been inflicted by a blood-stained carving
+knife he held in his right hand. Too horrified to utter a sound, I
+watched him draw the knife slowly across his throat, inflicting
+another wound, while he stared me straight in the eyes. After a low
+moan, he disappeared.
+
+The next night, about the same time, I was awakened by hearing
+someone moaning in the room. This moaning was heard by the remainder
+of my family.
+
+Determined to find out the cause of these happenings, I asked the
+next-door neighbour if he could explain them. “Don't you know?” he
+asked. “Jack” (mentioning the man I had seen) “committed suicide in
+your house. The landlord lets it cheaper than the others, but nobody
+will stay in it!”
+
+Needless to say, I did not stay. I moved back to my old home, the
+same day. At the present time, although there is a shortage of
+houses, you can often see in the window of this house, the sign “To
+Let.”
+
+TEMPLECOMBE
+
+WHILST engaged in domestic service at a large county house on the
+Dorset border, a young scullery-maid, who was ill, told us the lady
+had been to see her, but she was, somehow, afraid of her, and she did
+not speak. We other three who were there thought this odd, and I
+asked what was she dressed in. The girl replied black, and she had
+shiny things in her hair and round her neck. I had happened to meet
+the lady in the corridor and she was wearing a blue tea gown, so we
+persuaded her she had been dreaming. In course of time, I met an old
+lady of eighty-five, who had lived in the house in the days of her
+youth. She asked me had I seen the ghost. I said no, and asked what
+it was like. She replied: “A lady in black with lots of diamonds on;
+she used to walk right the length of the first floor. The butler used
+to try to catch her, but never could.”
+
+It was part of my duty every evening during the two years I lived
+there to shut shutters and fix bells on all the windows on this
+particular floor, yet I never saw anything, whereas the poor girl I
+have mentioned was in the house only three weeks and was so
+frightened.
+
+SOUTH WALES
+
+SOME years ago I was living in a small mining village in South Wales.
+Being a widow with a family, I was glad to let a married daughter and
+her husband rent part of the house. When I first went to live in that
+particular house the neighbours told me that a previous tenant, an
+old man who lived alone, was one morning found dead, sitting in a
+chair. I was, however, not at all superstitious, so thought no more
+about it.
+
+We had got quite settled in our house, when, one night, on retiring
+to bed, we heard footsteps coming upstairs and stop at my bedroom
+door.
+
+My daughter, aged thirteen years, was sleeping with me at the time,
+and, although we had been in bed some time, we were neither of us
+asleep, and lay waiting to see our door open, thinking it was either
+my married daughter or her husband, who were sleeping in the room
+below us. After several minutes had passed, we heard the same
+footsteps going downstairs, and, when they reached the bottom, we
+heard the catch of the bedroom door below, as if someone had passed
+in and closed the door. Judge of my surprise to find next morning
+that no one had been upstairs. But my daughter told me that, twice
+her bedroom door opened and her husband got out of bed and latched it
+again. Then they heard footsteps coming downstairs and, for the third
+time the door opened. This time my son-in-law got a light and went on
+a voyage of discovery, but could see no one. We agreed not to say
+anything about this in front of the younger children for fear of
+frightening them.
+
+A day or so after, I was talking to a neighbour about some needlework
+she wished me to do for her. My little girl, aged eight years, was
+sitting in the kitchen with me, when, all at once, she gave one
+scream and rushed over to me, looking simply awful. When I could get
+the child calm enough to question her, she said a great white thing
+had sprung over the stairs banisters, and had nearly touched her. We
+hunted all over the house, but could not find anything to account for
+the apparition, which, she said, went into the coal place under the
+stairs. I tried to console her by saying it was a white cat that had
+got in, but she would not have this, as she said it was “heaps too big
+for a cat.”
+
+The strange part about it was neither my neighbour nor myself had
+seen anything. We did not stay long in that house.
+
+The two girls are women now, but they often talk about this, and
+wonder what it meant.
+
+CLAPHAM
+
+THERE is a certain house in ——— which is really haunted, although few
+people know it. This house belonged to a lady I used to know. I was
+very young then, and was able to run about in the pitch darkness with
+no childish fears whatever; yet, every time I entered this house, I
+always grew afraid. Of what I do not know; my mother also experienced
+this awful fear.
+
+This lady had a brother who used to sleep in the attic. One night he
+awoke, and, to his horror, he beheld an old and ugly woman standing
+by his bed. I say “standing,” but he could see her only from the waist
+upwards. She was staring at him with an evil expression on her face.
+As he looked at her she gradually faded away. He said that the room
+was dark, but a light seemed to come from her. Her eyes were black
+and glittering; these were the last to fade. This man confessed that
+he was terrified and he spent the rest of the night under the bed
+clothes. He said that noises were heard in the unoccupied rooms, like
+people fighting.
+
+This house, to the best of my knowledge is unoccupied now.
+
+BARROW-IN-FURNESS
+
+IN the village where I was born, at a point where four crossroads
+met, stood a house where lived an aged couple. One night the old man
+was found lying dead on the ground, having fallen from the bedroom
+window; a short time after, the old lady died.
+
+The house was then rented by an elderly man with his family. These
+people could not sleep at night because of strange noises which
+resembled furniture being pushed about. The father declared a ghost
+entered his bedroom, took money from his pockets, counted it, and
+laid it on the dressing-table. The family became so frightened they
+quitted the house, and it was then let to a maiden lady.
+
+One night the friends of this lady, who lived at a farm a mile away,
+were awakened by her knocking at their door. She was barefooted and
+in her nightdress. She was in an exhausted condition, and said
+somebody was in her house moving the furniture about.
+
+She never returned to the house and died shortly after from shock, it
+was said.
+
+No one could ever account for the ghostly visitor or the noises, and,
+as long as I remained in the village, the house stood empty and was
+always said to be “haunted.”
+
+BARNES
+
+ABOUT twenty years ago, I was living with my husband and children in
+Barnes. My daughter was studying for an examination and frequently
+sat up till one or two o'clock working. Sometimes we heard her
+calling out, and she complained of being visited by a middle-aged
+lady dressed in grey.
+
+One night we had all gone to bed, when I heard her calling in great
+distress. I made up my mind to go and sleep with her, thinking she was
+over-wrought by her studies. I had hardly laid down beside her when
+the door opened and a lady in grey came slowly in. I felt myself
+shaking, and my daughter called out: “What is the matter, mother? You
+are trembling.” I was anxious to hide the fact that I saw anything,
+and remained silent. “Mother, there she goes,” she called out, and I
+saw the apparition disappear through the wall.
+
+Afterwards, I heard from a woman who had been servant in the house
+before we bought it, that a lady answering to my description of our
+visitor had died in that room.
+
+HANDSWORTH
+
+SOME twenty years ago, my mother, sister, brother and self, went to
+stay with friends at an Essex manor house. In the afternoon our host
+took the horse and trap to stay the night at an outlying town in
+order to be ready for the horse fair next day. My brother and I were
+left in bed with a light. After a time the door opened and a big man
+stood there and nodded to us. In the dim light, we, thinking by his
+size he was our host, called out “Goodnight, Mr. B.” He then closed
+the door. My mother and sister went to bed, bolting their door.
+During the night my mother heard shuffling in the corridor, extra
+loud where a tall man would have to stoop. Then her door was tried
+and, whoever it was, continued into the next bedroom, which was our
+hostess’s. In the morning my mother's door was open. On recounting
+our experiences over breakfast, one of our host’s sons blurted out
+“Why, it's only old R.'s ghost walking again; they are doing his grave
+up.” Our host had not been home at all that night.
+
+My mother and sister returned home that day, but we stayed on. We
+were only about nine or ten years old. When we saw the grave it had a
+tarpaulin cover over it and was being done up. R. had committed
+suicide. Owing to the noises in the house and the stories told about
+it, our friends had been able to get the place at a reduced rent. All
+the above facts can be verified and vouched for.
+
+BURTON LATIMER
+
+AS a young married woman, I went from a large town to live in a small
+village in Buckinghamshire where my husband had got work. We thought
+we were very lucky to get a nice old-fashioned house that stood by
+itself in a lane. It seems that the house had been empty some time. I
+made many friends, but none ever told me the house had a bad name, or
+anything about it. Did I believe in ghosts? Certainly not! But, after
+six months in that uncanny house, I would believe anything. The first
+signs in this peculiar house began when we had been there about a
+month. Chairs were scraped across the floor in the small kitchen
+(always in the evening), sounds of crockery smashing, bumps overhead,
+and doors banging. My two small children were mysteriously moved from
+one bed to another nightly for about a fortnight. At first we were not
+alarmed and tried hard to find out who was playing a game with us.
+None of the villagers would come near the house because they said it
+was haunted. I never saw anything, but my husband did, and it so got
+on his nerves that he would not stay in the house by himself.
+
+The house was supposed to be haunted by a tall lady in rustling silk.
+I certainly heard the rustle and the moaning, but I never saw the
+lady. Anyhow, she certainly made us as restless as she was herself.
+Later on, my husband got work away, only coming home for week-ends,
+for we were very anxious to get away from the house and to be
+peaceful again. I understand that no one would take the old house
+after we left it, and it was pulled down and rebuilt. I wonder if
+that laid the ghost? I could never understand what caused the trouble
+there, but after that experience, do I believe in ghosts? Yes, I
+think so!
+
+A MILITARY MAN
+
+SOME years ago I was nursing an old lady and went with her to stay at
+her brother's—an old country manor house. One night the maids forgot
+to bring the milk my patient always had, so, about 2:00 a.m., I set
+out for the larder to fetch it. Our room opened into a long corridor
+which had several large windows. It was a moonlight night. I knew
+everyone had long since gone to bed so was very surprised to see
+someone coming to meet me. But my surprise turned to horror when I
+saw that it was no member of the household, but the figure of a very
+tall dark man in the military uniform of over a century ago. He seemed
+to glide, not walk. I waited until the figure was within a few feet of
+me and then I fled back to my patient. She begged me to say nothing of
+what I had seen, as the family already found it difficult to keep
+maids, owing to the frequent occurrence of strange noises as if the
+house was being ransacked and all the china smashed. A few years
+after my experience the property was sold as the owners could stand no
+more of the ghostly racket, and it has constantly changed tenants
+since.
+
+“YOU ARE IN MY BED”
+
+THIS may interest your readers. It happened to me in London in the
+year 1887. On going to live in London, not far from Kilburn, with
+people who were quite strangers to me, I had the following strange
+experience during my first night. I retired just after ten and was
+soon sound asleep, when a voice beside the bed said, "You are in my
+bed," and repeated it several times. I looked both sides of the bed,
+but could see nothing, but, over by the dressing table, I saw a young
+man of about twenty-six. He was wearing a white shirt, braces and grey
+striped trousers and his black hair showed plainly against a very
+white face.
+
+Next morning I told of what I had seen and was informed that a young
+man such as I described was the previous occupier of the room and had
+died there only a few weeks earlier.
+
+THE WOMAN IN BROWN
+
+ABOUT twenty-five years ago Mr. and Mrs. D. took up their residence
+in a house in a small Oxfordshire village. Previous to their arrival
+Mrs. D. had not seen the house nor had she heard anything to suggest
+that the house was haunted.
+
+On the evening of their arrival Mr. D. went to the village whilst
+Mrs. D. arranged small articles of furniture. It was twilight but she
+could see distinctly and, entering the house by the back door, was
+astonished to notice a woman standing in the kitchen. She, naturally,
+uttered an exclamation of surprise, and the figure faded away. An
+examination of all rooms, which she immediately undertook, showed
+that no person was concealed in them. Mrs. D. had no feelings of
+fear, but the personal appearance and costume of the figure impressed
+her vividly and became fixed in her memory. The figure was that of a
+tall woman, dressed entirely in brown. She had grey hair and a rather
+thin face on which melancholy was expressed.
+
+Later, the D's learned it was rumoured that their new residence was
+haunted, one villager assuring them he would not care to live there.
+Mrs. D. gained some significant information regarding a married
+couple who had occupied the house previous to the tenants whom the
+D's succeeded. The wife had died there, having been badly treated,
+according to all accounts, by the husband. Mrs. D. asked for a
+description of the dead woman. This tallied with the apparition which
+she had seen! The apparition did not appear again, but Mrs. D. said
+she often felt the presence of another woman in the house when alone.
+
+One day, years later, liking such exercise, Mrs. D. sawed up an elm
+bough, lopped from an overhanging tree. Succeeding sections showed a
+pattern; in the annular rings there was discernible the figure of the
+woman in brown. This was corroborated by others.
+
+The question arises, ‘Did the thoughts of the woman in brown
+continue, after bodily death, to inhabit the spot where she had been
+so unhappy, impressing themselves, not only on another's mind but on
+the internal structure of the tree near by?’
+
+“IS THAT YOU, TOM?”
+
+Many years ago, I, accompanied by my infant son, went to spend a few
+days at my brother's home—a lonely farm on the Derbyshire moors.
+
+My brother was away when I arrived, and was not expected back until
+next day. During the night, I was awakened by the feeling that someone
+was leaning over me as I lay in bed. Looking up, I saw a dark shadowy
+form and, thinking that my brother had returned sooner than expected,
+and had come in to see me, I put out my hand saying, “Is that you,
+Tom?” There was no answer, and the shadow faded. I sat up in bed,
+wondering if it was my imagination, then, taking a look at my
+sleeping son, I composed myself for sleep again.
+
+Next morning, I asked my sister-in-law if my brother had returned.
+Receiving a negative reply, I related the incident of the night. My
+sister-in-law said, “Oh, Anne! have you seen it also?” Then she told
+me that whenever my brother was away for the night she always prayed
+that she might sleep soundly and not be disturbed by the shadow that
+she had so often seen leaning over her bed—sometimes at the foot and
+sometimes at the side of the bed. Shortly after my visit, my brother
+was visited by relatives of his wife from Southport—people whom I did
+not know—and, one morning, they burst into the kitchen asking if the
+house was haunted and declaring that a big dark shadow had been in
+their room during the night. They made quite a joke of it.
+
+Now, as I am a very sceptical person, in spite of my own experience,
+I asked my cousin, from whom my brother rented the house, and who had
+lived there, if he had seen anything. He did not want to say he had,
+but, when pressed, admitted that both he and his mother and father
+knew about the manifestations. He told me that one night, sitting up
+to attend to a sick cow, he had locked the kitchen door and was
+sitting by the fire, when, suddenly, the door was flung open and a
+tall man walked into the kitchen, passed through the sitting-room,
+and clanked upstairs. (The farmhouse has only one doorway which opens
+directly into the kitchen.) My uncle, who was in bed, called out, “Is
+that you, Walter?” But it wasn't Walter; he was still sitting by the
+fire spellbound and gazing at the still locked door. There was no one
+upstairs but the family in bed. I afterwards asked my aunt what she
+made of it. She was a deeply religious woman, and, without
+hesitation, she simply said, “Aye, Anne, I’ve seen it many a time, but
+I don't mind, it's harmless enough.”
+
+I often wonder, can we all have imagined it? I knew nothing about it
+till I went there—nor did the Southport visitors; and my relatives
+were very averse to talking about the visitations.
+
+“OUR GHOST”
+
+GHOSTS! Of course there are ghosts, and we should feel lost if our
+ghost did not walk about at times. We have lived in this house for
+eighteen years and it was a bit uncanny at first to hear footsteps
+come down the stairs, then see the handle of the door turn. We would
+look up expecting to see someone, and so we christened the occurrence
+as “Our Ghost.” Still, I must say there is something in the house. Our
+dog will be asleep on the rug, and, all at once, will get up and stare
+at the door for some time and then whine. There are times when the cat
+fights shy of the passage. It is only a few months ago that we heard
+someone (or something) at midnight move about downstairs and then we
+heard the front door bang. We went down to investigate and then
+remembered “Our Ghost.” This is after a life of eighteen years in the
+same house. Of course, there are ghosts.
+
+A MAN WITH AN AXE
+
+I LIVE in an ordinary little suburban house—one of a row of “boxes
+with lids on”—the approach to the upper storey being by a flight of
+twelve stairs and another flight of four stairs set at right angles
+to the first, a small bedroom being in the angle formed by the
+junction of the two. One night some six months ago, when passing this
+bedroom in the dark, I caught a momentary glimpse of the form of a
+man holding an axe in his right hand, his face bearing a highly
+malevolent expression. Not being at that time of a nervous
+disposition I dismissed the whole thing as imagination, but, on three
+separate occasions since, I have seen the same form, and always when
+passing that door in the dark I have the impression of having
+received a glancing blow on head and shoulder. Now the sequel to this
+is strange. I have ascertained that some years ago the then tenant of
+the house attacked his wife with an axe as she was descending the
+stairs, and she died from her injuries; he was confined in an asylum,
+where he died six months ago. The name of the road was then ——— Road;
+in consequence of the tragedy it was changed (as was then the common
+practice) to the more pretentious ——— Avenue, and only the older
+residents of the district recollect anything of the case. Can any of
+your readers tell me how to exorcise this “ghost,” for if it troubles
+me much more I shall be a fitting candidate for the institution where
+my ghostly friend ended his days.
+
+SEEN IN THE MIRROR
+
+A FEW years ago, I was sitting waiting for my husband to come home. It
+was nearly midnight and everything was quiet. I looked up to the
+mirror and saw an old grey-headed lady walking slowly across the room,
+from the middle door to the back door. When I turned to look at her
+she had gone. I sat a few minutes, dumbfounded, looking at the
+mirror, and she came again. This she repeated three times and then
+went for good. We could never keep a door locked at night. The doors
+have been locked and bolted and, then, in the morning have been found
+undone. People declared the house was haunted. After we left it no one
+would live in it, so it was pulled down.
+
+A TRAGEDY RE-ENACTED
+
+I AM not superstitious neither do I believe in ghosts, but the
+following tale may interest some of your readers.
+
+Some time ago I used to stay at an old rectory in a Kentish village.
+The rectory stood in a beautiful garden joining the churchyard, and
+was approached by a carriage drive bordered by thick hedges and
+trees. The house was low, gloomy-looking and rambling, containing many
+rooms and winding passages and had three staircases, but it had been
+somewhat modernised. One room was supposed to be haunted.
+
+I once slept in this room, but the ghost did not visit me; neither did
+I see or hear anything unusual. The room was a large one with two
+windows overlooking the carriage drive. A niece of the rector came on
+a visit and was given as a bedroom the haunted chamber. It was early
+autumn, a warm, beautiful moonlight night, not a leaf moving. The
+rector's niece had gone to her room, but wishing to finish a book, sat
+reading between the two open windows. Just as the church clock struck
+twelve, the door (which was fastened) opened. There was a sound of a
+scuffle, a rush past, a swish of skirts, a loud groan which seemed to
+end at the window, and a deep thud as if a heavy body had fallen. The
+window curtains, which were thick and heavy, blew straight out into
+the room.
+
+At breakfast next day, the lady related her experience and was told
+she had seen, or rather heard the ghost. Other members of the family
+had had a similar experience. The story goes:
+
+Many years ago a certain rector murdered his wife at midnight in this
+room, and threw the body out of the window.
+
+At certain periods the lady's ghost is supposed to visit the scene of
+the murder.
+
+A HARMLESS APPARITION
+
+MANY years ago one of my workmates went to live in a house not more
+than five minutes walk from my address. One night, whilst he and his
+wife were sitting in the house, they noticed a hand draw aside the
+curtain, which hung at the middle door—the door near the pantry—and
+then there stood revealed to them an old lady who looked at them for a
+minute or so and vanished. One day they invited some of their
+relations to tea. After they had had the meal, a young man of the
+party got up from his chair and stood with his back to the fire-place,
+while the other members of the party were still sitting around the
+table talking. All at once, they noticed the hair on the young man’s
+head stand straight up, and there was a horror-stricken look on his
+face. He couldn't speak. He was looking past the table to the kitchen
+door. Every member of the party turned to look in that direction, and
+there stood the old lady revealed to all. My friend inquired of the
+neighbours as to who had lived in the house previous to him taking
+possession. They told him a young woman who was living in the next
+street. He went to see her and told her about the old lady whom he
+described. The young woman told him that it was her mother who had
+died in that house. He told the landlord about it, saying that the old
+lady seemed to come out of the pantry.
+
+The landlord sent workmen who took up the flags in the pantry, and
+then replaced them. Since that was done the old lady has never
+reappeared. I asked my friends if they were not afraid of living in
+the house, but they both answered, “No, the old lady seemed harmless
+enough.” They are still living in the same house.
+
+EVEN THE LANDLORD LEFT
+
+I AM not interested in ghosts as a rule, but I was rather struck by
+the story of the brown lady of Raynham Hall. While reading of it, this
+incident came to my mind and it is just as true as uncanny.
+
+When I was eleven years old we lived in Yorkshire and I was one of a
+large family. We had occasion to remove to a more convenient house.
+And as houses were very bad to get at that time, we thought we were
+very fortunate in securing a nice convenient place, without much
+trouble.
+
+Strange to say, we had not lived in the house many weeks when, on
+returning home from school one day, I was amazed to find my mother
+quite prostrate on the couch. After I had attended to mother, she
+requested me to go upstairs and have a look round the rooms as she
+thought something had fallen out of place. Thinking nothing of it, I
+immediately went and examined all the rooms, but everything was in
+order. I was at a loss to understand mother's nervous breakdown.
+
+When father and the rest of the family came in from business, mother
+told us that, after dinner, she had just got on the couch for a rest
+when she heard a terrific crash just as though the roof had fallen
+in. When she had recovered from the shock, she went out into the
+garden to look and make sure the roof had not collapsed. All was in
+order. A neighbour, seeing mother was ill, came to her assistance. We
+came to the conclusion that mother's nerves were weak and we tried to
+soothe her. But, strange to say, we were all sitting round the fire
+after supper, before going to bed, when we were all startled by an
+awful crashing noise. We were all speechless for a few minutes, the
+shock was so great. Then my father and brothers went and searched the
+place. After that the knockings and noises were so frequent that
+mother’s health broke down and we had to move.
+
+Some weeks after, my father came in touch with the lady who had
+previously lived in the house, and this is the story she told:
+
+The lady's husband worked night duty. One night her little girl,
+two-and-a-half years old, woke her up and said: “Look, mum! there is
+a man coming in our bedroom.” There, on the landing, the mother saw an
+old man coming towards the bedroom door. She was unable to move for
+some time, but, after a while, got up and lit the gas. Then, there was
+nothing to be seen. But the apparition appeared again later, and the
+noises were so unnerving that they had to leave the house. The story
+of the haunting was noised about so much that the house was rebuilt,
+and the landlord went to live there. Strange to say, he soon left the
+place. After all, one is bound to admit there must be something
+behind all this. Even to this day I shudder when I think of this
+incident.
+
+TWO CURIOUS INCIDENTS
+
+IT has always seemed to me that authentic psychic happenings are
+singularly inconsequent and bear no relation to their witnesses—except
+in the case of appearances of dead relatives. Two such irrelevant
+occurrences stand out in my memory.
+
+Many years ago, when I was a young girl, I stayed in a large country
+house. This house was rented by my friends, and they knew no legends
+connected with it. It was symmetrical in design, but one of the
+windows on one side was blocked up, nor could any door be found by
+which one could enter the room corresponding to the blocked window.
+
+My bedroom was underneath this mysterious chamber. For some nights
+nothing happened, but one evening just after the clock had struck
+twelve, a most extraordinary noise took place above my head. I can
+only compare it to the noise of sacks of coals being emptied. I sat
+up in bed terrified, too frightened to roam the large house by myself
+so late, and too terrified even to scream. The noise continued. Every
+minute I expected the ceiling to open and some spectre to alight on
+me. After what appeared to me an interminable time, the noise ceased
+and the clock struck one, so it had really lasted only an hour. Though
+I stayed on for some time longer, I never heard the sound again.
+
+My other experience has a tinge of romance.
+
+In the village where I lived there was a picturesque old farmhouse
+that legend said was a gift to Nell Gwynne by her royal lover. Whether
+there was any truth in this I cannot say, but it was said that on wet
+nights Nell haunted the lane passing her old dwelling place, and one
+could hear her high heels tapping behind one as one passed that way.
+
+One evening I was dining with friends, and the son of the house walked
+home with me. He was a prosaic youth and believed in nothing he could
+not see. The night was wet and foggy. As we passed the haunted spot we
+both plainly heard the tap tap of the high heels belonging to the fair
+and frail lady.
+
+He stopped and lit matches but nothing was to be seen and the
+footsteps stopped. As we went on the pursuing steps began again and
+continued till the road turned into another lane.
+
+AN AWFUL EXPERIENCE
+
+SOME years ago some new houses were being built near Durham, and, on
+completion, one of them was taken by a bachelor gentleman, who, apart
+from his sister going in daily to do his cooking, etc., lived quite
+alone. The night in question, I was sleeping in the next house when
+suddenly I was aroused by a loud hammering as though a bedstead was
+being taken down. It continued for some minutes, alternately stopping
+a second, and then going on again. I strained my ears to listen, until
+it ceased, then I heard the gentleman go downstairs and out into the
+street, closing the door behind him.
+
+Next morning, I was surprised to see him removing his goods presumably
+to his sister's house. Seeing me standing at the door, he said, “Did
+you hear any noise from my bedroom last night?” I said, “Yes. Whatever
+were you doing?” He replied, “It was the most awful experience I've
+ever had, and I wouldn't stay there another night, so I’m moving out
+to-day.” “Whatever was the hammering?” I asked, and he told me that he
+had fallen asleep when he suddenly became conscious of some apparition
+in the room, although it was dark. Then blow after blow was made upon
+the bottom of the iron bed rail (just as I had heard it) and the bed
+shook each time it was battered. Thoroughly scared, he lay speechless,
+unable to move until the spectre vanished; then he got a light,
+slipped into his things and ran downstairs and out of the house to his
+sister's. On examination, no marks were found on the bedstead, and his
+story was confirmed, because I had heard the sounds next door, but no
+discovery was ever made regarding this unwelcome visitor.
+
+ON THE YORKSHIRE MOORS
+
+THE following is an accurate account of what occurred in a lonely
+house at a place called ... in Yorkshire on the moors and it goes to
+prove that ghosts do exist. My husband, when a boy, lived with his
+parents in this house which was on a hill surrounded by woods. They
+were warned before going there that the house was haunted, but being
+Christian people, laughed at the idea. However, they had not long to
+wait before strange things began to happen. Often when lying in bed
+they were awakened by hearing fearful noises downstairs, just as if
+someone was smashing all the china and furniture. On investigation,
+everything was found all right, but, while they were downstairs, the
+same noises took place upstairs. One evening when they were all
+sitting round the fire there came such a bang at the stair door as if
+someone was beating it down. They quite expected to see the door
+splintered, but it burst open intact and some vision flitted through
+the room. The dogs, usually afraid of nothing, crouched down in fear,
+and the girls fainted with fright. There were other similar instances
+which I could quote. Things got so bad the family were compelled to
+leave the house and I understand no one has lived there since.
+
+FOOTSTEPS ON THE STAIRS
+
+MY late husband and I took a small semi-detached house in
+Hertfordshire in 1911. One night in early autumn, we retired about
+10:15, as usual, and slept soundly until 1:30, when we were both
+awakened by the sound of footsteps coming upstairs. My husband
+immediately switched on the light and we both sat up in bed,
+breathlessly watching the bedroom door which was fastened. The
+footsteps came nearer, a loose board on the landing creaked, and the
+door slowly opened. To our great surprise, no one entered. The door
+remained open, and the footsteps slowly retreated. My husband got up
+and searched all over the house and garden, but could find no trace
+of our visitor. So certain were we of someone coming in, that, in a
+sense, we should have been more satisfied had someone appeared,
+preferring to deal with the real, rather than the unreal. Both of us
+had splendid nerves, but were obliged to confess the occurrence left
+us very shaky. Shortly after, we were obliged to give up the house—a
+move which led to a series of misfortunes which resulted in the death
+of my husband three years ago.
+
+IN DOUBT
+
+IF anyone had asked me seven years ago the question “Do you believe in
+ghosts and haunted houses?” my answer would have been a very decided
+“No.” But now I don't know. For several years I have been living in a
+very old-fashioned cottage in a country village. Soon after settling
+here, both I and my husband were awakened night after night by strange
+noises, bumps as of something falling, sounds as of water dripping,
+and, most strange of all, every night at about the same time the latch
+of our stair-door would drop with a loud click as if someone had
+opened it hurriedly. Although we used to come down and search,
+everything was as usual, and nothing we could think of accounted for
+the sounds. Each night, on retiring, I would firmly shut the
+stair-door, but still the latch would be heard to drop, and several
+nights, while having a light burning (through having to tend a small
+baby) I have seen a shadow pass through the room and down the stairs.
+Then would come the dropping of the latch, but, however quickly I
+turned, or however long I watched, nothing appeared again the same
+night. We would gladly have moved, but, owing to the shortage of
+houses, it was impossible, and, in time, the sounds no longer
+startled us; we had to get used to them. Now, if we are awakened
+suddenly, my husband says, “It's only the ghost,” and we go to sleep
+again. But twice just lately I have lain awake and heard the latch
+drop as before and at the same time.
+
+The other day my husband was talking to a very old inhabitant of our
+village—a man aged seventy-eight—who, upon hearing where we lived
+said, “Lor', my boy, that's the house my father used to live in, where
+the queer rows was, d'ye ever hear any now?”
+
+What is the answer to the riddle of this old cottage, I wonder, ghosts
+or some other explanation? Anyhow I do know that during the next few
+months we shall gladly say “good-bye” to it and take possession of a
+new home, where I hope there will be nothing uncanny.
+
+A MIDNIGHT INTERRUPTION
+
+WHEN my aunt and I first came to reside in this town we rented for a
+short time a self-contained, furnished flat in one of the old houses
+here—one that had no doubt seen better days.
+
+Our flat was the top one, having only unfurnished, and dilapidated
+attics above it, and was completely cut off from the lower tenants.
+
+We used the attics as lumber rooms and, strangely enough, both of us
+felt an inexplicable feeling of horror when in them even in broad
+daylight.
+
+My aunt and I occupied separate bedrooms, but always slept with our
+doors slightly ajar.
+
+One night (it was somewhere about midnight) I was awakened by my aunt
+calling me. I ran into her room, which was next to mine, and found her
+sitting up in bed in terror, declaring that she had seen a dark figure
+standing by the bedside looking down at her. She had spoken, thinking
+that I had come to her for some reason, and had been horrified to find
+the figure fade away, and that she had to call me several times to
+awaken me from sleep in the other room. We could find no way to
+account for this, and next day were inclined to laugh at ourselves for
+our nervous terror. But, a few weeks after, I had a similar
+experience.
+
+I was doing a piece of embroidery work as a gift for my aunt and, not
+wishing her to see it, and being rather pushed for time, after
+retiring to bed one night I re-lit my candle and sat up to continue my
+sewing. It was just about midnight and, after stitching away for a few
+minutes, I heard as I thought, my aunt moving in her room, come out
+of the door and along the passage. My bed was facing away from the
+door, but I turned my head and saw the door being pushed open. I then
+blew out the candle, not wishing her to see what I was doing. I heard
+her come in and stand behind me, and I said: “What's the matter? Is
+anything wrong?” On getting no reply, I again lit my candle and found
+no one in the room and everything silent. I went into my aunt’s room
+to find her fast asleep in bed.
+
+Not being easily frightened, I started to work again the following
+night, but exactly the same thing occurred, and when, on the third
+night, this was again repeated, I made no further attempts at midnight
+sewing.
+
+We could find no explanation whatever, and as it was during very calm
+weather, we could not attribute anything to the wind.
+
+The tenants of the lower flats had no such experiences, but I feel
+sure that there was some strange and uncanny influence that proceeded
+from those attics and on occasion found their way into our flat.
+Fortunately we had taken the rooms for only a short time, and were
+glad to move to a different part of the town. We have never since
+experienced such a thing.
+
+A HOUSE “TO LET”
+
+WHEN I was a small child, my mother took a house near ———. As she
+could never sleep in a strange house for some days, she sat up in bed
+reading a novel. Suddenly she looked up from the book and saw, coming
+from the direction of the door, a female figure clad in a blue
+dressing gown, with loosened golden hair about her shoulders. The
+figure walked to the mantelpiece, took up a comb that was lying there,
+drew it through her hair, turned from the mantelpiece, walked towards
+the door and vanished. A few months after this my father died. Now,
+this house had been taken on a three years’ agreement, and my mother,
+after her bereavement, wished to leave, but the owner was not inclined
+to release her. Mother spoke to her about the apparition, and told her
+she could not stay. After breaking down, the unhappy woman said she
+knew this did occur at different times in the room mentioned, and she
+explained that the figure was that of her niece who was murdered by
+her own sister through jealousy, as she was combing her hair. The
+spirit had been “read down,” but did not rest. The murderess died in
+an asylum. My mother was released from her agreement on a promise not
+to tell a possible tenant.
+
+Since then I have passed the house many times, and at intervals have
+seen the “To Let” board in the garden.
+
+WORRIED ABOUT THE DEEDS OF THE HOUSE
+
+A FEW years ago my friend had to remove to another town owing to her
+husband's work.
+
+She was fortunate enough to get a very pretty, compact house just
+outside, and felt very proud of the fact, as houses just then were
+very scarce.
+
+This friend, by the way, was very strong minded, and did not know the
+meaning of nerves.
+
+After she had been in the house a couple of weeks she was sleepless,
+after having teeth extracted, and hadn't even dozed when she saw what
+she described as a venerable old gentleman, with long, white beard
+and bent shoulders, standing close by the side of the bed with a
+document of some kind in his hand.
+
+She awoke her husband and described what had taken place, but he only
+laughed and said it was nightmare after too heavy a supper.
+
+So on the second occasion that the same thing happened she refrained
+from telling him, as she didn't like being ridiculed.
+
+But the strain of doing so must have told on her, as, after the third
+time she saw the vision, her husband found her in a state of collapse.
+
+He called in the doctor and explained what had caused the trouble. The
+doctor at once said: “Oh, it was old So-and-so; he died in this room
+and had been rather worried about the deeds of this house.”
+
+Needless to say, her husband didn't ridicule her any more, but set
+about looking for another house.
+
+A SINISTER ATMOSPHERE
+
+IT is pleasant to sit round the fire on a winter's evening and tell
+ghost stories. A sort of thrill goes down one's spine which is not
+altogether unpleasant.
+
+It is not, however, by any means pleasant to be in a house where one
+frequently gets such thrills.
+
+Some years ago my mother and sister went to live in a large,
+old-fashioned farmhouse. All old houses seem to have an atmosphere of
+their own. Some speak of peace as one enters their doors; others of
+serenity. Then, again, in other houses one realises an atmosphere of
+depression. In this old house the atmosphere seemed almost sinister.
+There were such strange unaccountable noises, tappings, knocking and
+banging everywhere, that one could not sit in comfort in any of the
+rooms.
+
+One time, when I went over to help nurse my mother, who was ill, a
+friend and I who were sitting up at night heard distinct footsteps
+crossing a large, unoccupied, adjoining bedroom.
+
+The nurse who came later also heard these footsteps repeatedly and,
+strangely, each morning a framed photograph on the mantelpiece was
+lying on the floor. We also heard music, which sounded like the faint,
+sweet music of an old harpsichord.
+
+One of the most frequent noises sounded as though a chair was being
+dragged along the kitchen floor, and there seemed to pass a dim
+presence with a breath of cold air across the kitchen.
+
+These strange, unaccountable happenings were so disturbing that my
+sister became afraid to sleep alone in a room.
+
+My mother and sister have now left the house and neighbourhood, but
+recently I was interested to hear that the people who now live there
+hear the same uncanny noises.
+
+I think there must be an explanation of these strange sounds, and no
+doubt one will yet be found.
+
+WAS IT A MONK?
+
+WE live in a rambling, old-fashioned house which is supposed to
+connect by underground passage with the church and an old priory. In
+the older wing of the house are two bedrooms, the smaller one leading
+into the larger by a little passage. For a while I slept alone in this
+wing, and, night after night, I was roused in the early hours by the
+sound of slow, measured footsteps. They came from the smaller room,
+through the passage, and paused at the foot of the bed, then retreated
+with the same slow, measured strides. They sounded like the steps of a
+man wearing soft sandals. I lit the candle, but the room was empty and
+the connecting door was shut. Each time I struck a light the sound
+ceased and the room was empty, only the air seemed colder and there
+was a faint earthy smell. I said nothing about it, as I feared
+ridicule.
+
+Later my brother returned home from abroad, and those rooms were given
+to his use. One morning he asked if I had heard any strange sounds
+while sleeping there, and told me he had heard someone walking. We
+compared notes and found our experiences precisely the same.
+
+Is it the ghost of an old monk engaged in meditation?
+
+A SHADOWY FIGURE
+
+ONE warm afternoon in the summer of 1901 my grandmother asked me to
+come into her bedroom because, in the big bow window of the house
+overlooking our garden, there was, so she said, a ghost.
+
+She pointed to the window. “Don't you see it, my dear? It's like the
+figure of a woman. The people have left the house because it is
+haunted.”
+
+“Rubbish!” I answered. “I can’t see anyone.”
+
+“Well,” she repeated, “it looks to me like a woman.”
+
+I saw nothing, and said so. The next afternoon I was sitting by myself
+in the garden, looking up at the bow window, when to my amazement a
+shadowy figure as of a woman appeared on the pane. I was terrified and
+went indoors, but I would not say a word to anyone for fear of being
+laughed at.
+
+For the next six weeks I saw that figure constantly and always in the
+broad daylight, at 8:30 a.m., when I started for college, at one or
+four, or any time in the full light of day. The house was empty; I
+found that out.
+
+I hated the shadowy thing, but there it was.
+
+After about six weeks had passed it disappeared, and I have not seen
+it from that day to this. So far as I know, there is no mystery
+connected with the house, which is quite a modern one in a very
+unromantic situation.
+
+I can only say that to the best of my knowledge this is the truth, and
+I should be only too glad to understand what the apparition was.
+
+WHAT WAS IT?
+
+MY house is in a quiet corner of a quiet square. We are sheltered
+from wind and noise, even when it is stormy. About three years ago I
+was living here quite alone and, while undressing, about eleven
+o'clock one night, when there was not a breath of wind or a sound to
+be heard, I suddenly heard a noise in the hall below, like air moving
+swiftly round and round with a swishing noise, as when something is
+swung from the end of a string. Then it began to move and come up the
+stairs. I was very frightened and said to myself—although I knew it
+wasn't—“This is wind; it will pass out at the landing window.” But it
+didn’t; it turned the corners—two corners, in fact—and came straight
+along the corridor and shook the handle of my bedroom door strongly.
+Then all was quiet as before. I should very much like to know just
+what it was.
+
+SOMEBODY WAS BITING HER EARS
+
+IN 1913 my husband and self and two children went to reside in North
+Devon, and took a house that had been empty some years. It was old and
+next to a churchyard. The landlord was anxious for us to take the
+house, and had it decorated. We took it on a weekly tenancy. Within
+the first week of our occupation my little daughter, aged two years,
+used to wake up at midnight screaming and say somebody was biting her
+ears. At the same time I used to break out into a cold sweat and
+tremble from head to feet. Then I saw a tall shadow go round the room
+with a lighted candle and disappear before it reached me. I was quite
+unable to get out of bed to take my baby into my bed. My husband saw
+none of this. My son, aged eight years, would ask us why we always
+rapped on his wall at night, and once he said he saw a hand over his
+bed. The last week of our occupation my husband heard padded feet come
+up the stairs and to the bedroom door, but no one entered. Curiously
+enough, fresh flowers put into a room at night would be quite dead the
+next morning. We stayed in that house only six weeks, and found no
+solution to the mystery.
+
+GETTING USED TO IT
+
+WE live in an old house with long passages, so when we intend to pass
+an afternoon or evening in a back room, somebody usually locks and
+bolts the front door against sneak-thieves.
+
+More times than we can count we have heard someone open and close the
+front door, rattle his stick into the hall-stand, and walk up the
+passage into the drawing-room.
+
+Yet, on going to see, we have found no one in the house and the door
+locked and bolted just as we had left it. This has occurred both in
+the afternoon and evening.
+
+Many times, also, anyone awake in the night has heard someone open the
+bathroom door, walk along the upstairs passage and go downstairs.
+Again, “no one.”
+
+Both these phenomena have been experienced by visitors, some of whom
+have proved decidedly nervous as a consequence; but, as nothing ever
+follows the sounds, we do not worry, and we have lived through them
+for ten years.
+
+AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY
+
+WITHIN half an hour's journey of the City of London, in one of its
+pleasant suburbs, stands a pretty little house in a quiet and pretty
+road. There is nothing in the least remarkable in its appearance; a
+one-storeyed, bay-windowed house, with a high thick-set hedge and a
+holly tree in the front garden. Yet some years ago we experienced some
+very unpleasant thrills within its prosaic looking doors. It looked
+then, as it does now, particularly bright and cheerful and even new—on
+the outside. We went there in 1912, and for many months nothing
+happened, though we experienced many minor “queernesses.”
+
+For instance, one winter evening, when there was a bright fire burning
+in the front room, the door closed, the table cloth blew right up as
+though a strong wind stirred it, and covered my brother's dinner which
+was then laid.
+
+One night, mother and I were sitting together playing cards, laughing
+and chatting gaily, a bright fire burning, the room well lighted,
+everything about us very matter of fact, and we ourselves feeling in
+the highest spirits. Suddenly three sharp, clear shots rang out,
+seeming to come from the back room which we called the garden room
+because it gave straight on to the garden. We both jumped up,
+scattering the cards on the floor, and mother ran to the door. As she
+opened it, I saw her stand, rigid: the dark, heavy curtains in the
+hall leading to the stairs were waving to and fro as though blown by
+a strong breeze. She afterwards told me that she felt her scalp freeze
+and her hair rise. I was trembling, but advanced boldly to the stairs
+and commenced to ascend. When I reached the third from the top I
+stood, rooted; my feet refused to carry me any further. I lifted them
+to do so; but it was of no use, so I was obliged to come down again. All
+the time I had that horrible and indefinable feeling that there was
+another presence near me, all about the house, besides my mother's. My
+sister came in and we told her.
+
+On two more successive nights we were tormented with most weird and
+hateful noises, which disturbed our peace and made us unable to do
+anything while they continued.
+
+My sister was with us the next night, and this time, not shots but
+other noises, seeming to come from the cellar, occurred. Sometimes we
+knocked at the walls and cellar door, but this only seemed to
+aggravate the unknown disturbers; for the sounds were redoubled.
+
+Knowing that rats sometimes make strange noises, my mother put some
+pieces of fat meat in the cellar in likely places. But no trace of
+mice or rats did we ever discover and the meat remained untouched.
+
+On the last night of these visitations, my brother was with us, and I
+think it was as well, for our nerves would not have borne much more
+alone. Still the noises in the cellar continued, and this time like
+loud, heavy footsteps walking up and down. We were kept up until the
+small hours with these horrid sounds almost continuous until, at last,
+they ceased altogether, and we were permitted to sleep.
+
+Next day a complete search of the cellar was made, but no trace of
+anything or anyone was found.
+
+Soon after, we moved away, but from that day to this our strange
+experience has been an unsolved mystery.
+
+THAT NAUGHTY MAN
+
+“GHOSTS or no ghosts,” said my friend Terrington, “what I am going to
+tell you is absolutely true. It is strange and inexplicable, and I
+make no effort to explain the happening. Listen.”
+
+Twenty-five years ago I obtained work at a factory in a northern town,
+and, eventually, got a house near my work—a little old-fashioned
+dwelling which had once been used as a shop. My little girl, Marion,
+was then about four years old and had always been a good child to take
+to bed.
+
+But a few weeks after our going to that place, she simply would not be
+left in bed alone. She and her sister slept together, and once, in the
+middle of the night, she awakened us by screaming loudly. I hastened
+to the room, but unable to pacify her, I brought her into my own bed.
+Of this occurrence I thought little, thinking that the child had just
+had a bad dream.
+
+A few nights afterwards, I took her upstairs to bed and gently chided
+her for being such a frightened girl, and asked her why she did not
+like to go to bed alone, as she had always been in the habit of doing.
+“Oh, dada,” she said, “I don’t like that naughty man!” “Which naughty
+man?” I asked. “Oh that bad man! That naughty man, all dirty here.”
+And she drew her hand across her little neck.
+
+I assured her that there was no bad man, but the fear never left her.
+
+A few days afterwards, one of my work-mates asked me how I liked my
+house, which I told him was all right and very handy for my work. But
+my liking was turned to antipathy when he related how the place had
+once been occupied by an old chemist who committed suicide by cutting
+his throat. He was found in the very room in which my little daughter
+slept.
+
+I can assure you that not one of my family knew of the tragedy which
+once occurred in that little house, but I soon found a reasonable
+excuse to leave it.
+
+THE ROW DOWNSTAIRS
+
+ABOUT twenty years ago I secured the tenancy of a large cottage,
+formerly an inn, in the suburbs of Bristol, not knowing at the time
+it had the reputation of being haunted, and caring nothing when I was
+informed. For some time nothing unusual happened, then my wife
+complained of hearing noises in the night, generally when I was away
+from home. But occasionally we both heard them. One night, about a
+year after we had taken the house, I was awakened and kept awake by
+what seemed to be the movement of all the articles of furniture
+downstairs—chairs, tables, etc., being, apparently, lifted off the
+ground and noisily replaced; after listening to this for some
+minutes, my wife, who I thought was asleep, said, “Now, hark at the
+row downstairs.” “Yes,” said I, “there's something going on down
+there to-night,” and I lighted a candle and went down, but, rather to
+my disappointment, the noises ceased as I was descending the stairs,
+and, though I examined each room carefully, nothing was out of place.
+There was no dog or cat in the house to put the blame on. My wife
+always fastened the door before retiring, but on several occasions we
+found the front door wide open in the morning, although it had been
+fastened by a spring lock—a big old-fashioned lock and a bolt. We
+lived in the house for over two years, and, towards the end of our
+tenancy, my wife would on no account stay in the house at night in my
+absence, without having an adult friend with her in addition to the
+children.
+
+A HEADLESS FORM
+
+MY parents rented a very large old-fashioned house in Norfolk,
+standing on its own grounds.
+
+Living with them was a very pious old lady, also an uncle of mine. One
+dark, still night, my mother was sitting alone sewing when, suddenly,
+the room seemed to be filled with a rushing wind, and she experienced
+the feeling of a cold hand pressed upon her cheek, followed by a low
+wail and moan. She said nothing to the other inmates of the occurrence
+at the time.
+
+Two nights later, my father went to the pantry which was approached
+by a short passage. There by the door he saw standing the headless
+form of a man wearing a brown coat with large pearl buttons attached.
+After a few days had passed, the old lady asked my mother whether she
+thought there was in the house anyone who walked in his sleep as for
+several nights past, she had had her bedroom door opened and closed,
+and she distinctly heard footsteps along the landing and staircase.
+
+For two nights in succession my uncle got out of bed and closed his
+bedroom door three times each night. He examined the door and found
+it impossible to open without some aid. Each one of these inmates
+related to one another their experiences. They decided to keep watch
+for a few nights, but nothing happened. Needless to say, they soon
+quitted the house. Rumour followed that the place was once known as a
+house of ill-fame.
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76814 ***