{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36595/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36595","id":"gutenberg_36595","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36595","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Ghosts"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                           STRANGER THAN FICTION\n\n            BEING TALES FROM THE BYWAYS OF GHOSTS AND FOLK-LORE\n\n                             BY MARY L. LEWES\n\n\n    LONDON\n    WILLIAM RIDER & SON LTD.\n    164 ALDERSGATE STREET, E.C.\n    1911\n\n    PRINTED BY\n    BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD\n    AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS\n    TAVISTOCK STREET COVENT GARDEN\n    LONDON\n\n\n\n       TO\n    MY SISTER\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nI have to thank the Editor of the _Occult Review_ for his kindness in\nallowing me to reprint here many stories which have appeared at\ndifferent times in his magazine.\n\nAnd I am most grateful to the friends who have helped to swell the\ncontents of this little volume, by permitting me to record their\ninteresting experiences of the supernatural, or by furnishing me with\ndetails concerning local beliefs and superstitions, which would\notherwise have been difficult to obtain.\n\nM. L. LEWES\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nI. INTRODUCTORY\n\nII. WELSH GHOSTS\n\nIII. WELSH GHOSTS (_continued_)\n\nIV. OTHER GHOSTS\n\nV. CORPSE-CANDLES AND THE TOILI\n\nVI. CORPSE-CANDLES AND THE TOILI (_continued_)\n\nVII. WELSH FAIRIES\n\nVIII. WISE MEN, WITCHES, AND FAMILY CURSES\n\nIX. ODD NOTES\n\nX. CONCLUSION\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTORY\n\n    \"Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who\n    Before us passed the door of Darkness through,\n    Not one returns to tell us of the Road,\n    Which to discover we must travel too.\"\n\n\nIf we may judge by the assertion contained in the above quatrain, Omar\nKhayy\u00e1m was no believer in ghosts. In which respect the Persian poet\nmust have differed from the general opinion of his times. For until a\nvery few centuries ago, it was only a small minority of those who\nconsidered themselves wise above their fellows, who ventured to deny the\npossibility of the spirit's return to earth. Even amongst the Romans\nduring the Antonine Age (A.D. 98-180), when scepticism on religious\nmatters had become almost universal among the learned, and the worship\nof the gods had sunk to mere outward observance of ceremony, Gibbon\nsays, \"I do not pretend to assert that in this irreligious age, the\nnatural terrors of superstitions, dreams, omens, apparitions, &c., had\nlost their efficacy.\" The younger Pliny, in a letter to his friend Sura,\nwrites: \"I am extremely desirous to know whether you believe in the\nexistence of ghosts, and that they have a real form, and are a sort of\ndivinities, or only the visionary impression of a terrified\nimagination.\" He also relates a really exciting tale of a haunted house\nat Athens, but it is too long to quote here.\n\nThe ancients believed that every one possessed three distinct ghosts;\nthe _manes_, of which the ultimate destination was the lower regions,\nthe _spiritus_, which returned to Heaven, and the _umbra_, that,\nunwilling to sever finally its connection with this life, was wont to\nhaunt the last resting-place of the earthly body. These \"shades\" were\nsupposed to \"walk\" between the hours of midnight and cock-crow, causing\nburial-grounds, cemeteries or tombs to be carefully avoided at night.\nOne reason given as to why very old yew-trees are so often found in\ncountry churchyards is, that originally these trees were planted to\nsupply the peasants with wood for their bows, for in lawless times it\nwas soon discovered that the only place where the trees would be safe\nfrom nightly marauders was the churchyard, where not the most hardened\nthief dared venture between darkness and dawn. Particularly were the\nshades of those who, perishing by crimes of violence without\nabsolution--\n\n    \"Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd--\"\n\nsupposed to be uneasy; haunting sometimes the scene of their end, or, in\nother cases, the footsteps of the slayer. If a living person could\nsummon courage to address one of these haunting spirits (for no ghost\nmay speak unless spoken to) and discover the cause of its restlessness,\nit was thought possible to give it peace or \"lay it,\" by righting the\nwrong it suffered from; whether by vengeance on a murderer, atonement\nfor a crime committed, or by the offices of a priest to give absolution\nto an unshrived soul. An old writer tells us: \"The mode of addressing a\nGhost is by commanding it in the name of the three Persons of the\nTrinity to tell you what it is, and what its business.... During the\nnarration of its business a Ghost must by no means be interrupted by\nquestions of any kind; so doing is extremely dangerous....\"\n\nBesides believing in these ghosts of departed human beings, there was\never present in the minds of our forefathers, the dread of a host of\n\"evil spirits\" who were the agents and assistants of Satan, always ready\nto injure innocent souls, and where possible, to cause worldly disaster\nalso. Magicians and sorcerers[1] were supposed by their arts to have\npower in this world of demons, the forfeit being their own souls, lost\nbeyond redemption. In his delightful \"Memoirs,\" Benvenuto Cellini\n(1500-1571) describes with great vividness some experiments he conducted\nwith a necromancer at Rome, in order to discover the whereabouts of a\ngirl he loved. The magician was a Sicilian priest, \"a man of genius and\nwell versed in the Latin and Greek authors,\" who made an appointment\nwith Cellini for a certain evening, desiring him to bring two\ncompanions. \"I invited Vincenzo Romoli ... he brought with him a native\nof Pistoja, who cultivated the black art himself.\" The trio then\nrepaired to the Colosseum, where the priest \"... began to draw circles\nupon the ground with the most impressive ceremonies imaginable....\"\nAfter this sort of thing and many incantations had lasted an hour and a\nhalf, \"there appeared several legions of devils, insomuch that the\namphitheatre was quite filled with them.\" This terrible phenomenon\nsounds dreadful enough to have frightened most people, but obtaining no\nresult from his inquiries on the first occasion, Cellini was intrepid\nenough to arrange for a second experiment, his account of which\nabsolutely bristles with demons and bad spirits; the strange part being\nthat he writes as if their appearance at the sorcerer's bidding was the\nmost natural thing in the world, and quite what he had expected to see.\nAnd this attitude of absolute, matter-of-fact faith in the powers of\ndarkness, and acceptance of the magician's arts, is very interesting in\nthe man, of whose famous autobiography John Addington Symonds wrote:\n\"The Genius of the Renaissance, incarnate in a single personality, leans\nforth and speaks to us.\"\n\n[Footnote 1: Magicians were able to command spirits to do their bidding,\nwhile sorcerers, though they could _summon_ demons, were obliged to obey\nthem.]\n\nIt is only when we begin to investigate the origin of certain old\ncustoms and superstitions that we gain any real idea of how deeply\nrooted in men's minds during the Dark and Middle Ages was the fear of\nthe supernatural, and particularly of evil spirits. To this day in\nPembrokeshire, the cottagers, after the Saturday morning scrubbing, take\na piece of chalk and draw a rough geometrical pattern round the edge of\nthe threshold stone. This they do, not knowing that their ancestors\nthought it a sure way of keeping the Devil from entering the house.\nAnother custom, often noticeable in country parishes, is the reluctance\nto bury the dead on the north side of the churchyard; this is because\nevil spirits were always supposed to lurk on that side of the church\nprecincts.\n\nFor many centuries Christianity, at all events among the mass of the\npeople, seemed powerless to raise the dark veil of superstition which\nthe old pagan beliefs had spread over the world; and indeed in many\ncountries--sometimes from ignorance, sometimes from motives of\nexpediency--heathen traditions and practices were preserved, and merely\ntransferred to a Christian setting. Particularly was this the case among\nthe Celtic nations, whose Christianity must in the early ages have\nmerely been grafted on the native Druid beliefs. For the material that\nthe great Irish and Welsh missionaries had to work with was rough\nindeed; and any drastic attempt to impose a new system of religion on a\nhorde of Celtic tribesmen would doubtless have ended in speedy\ndisaster. So it is probable that St. Patrick and St. David and their\nevangelist successors, instead of bluntly denouncing the most cherished\nof the heathen legends, merely took and adapted them to their own\nteaching; giving them first a decent Christian garb. Two instances of\nevident adaptation are quoted by Mr. Elworthy, in his book \"The History\nof the Evil Eye,\" where he remarks: \"Here in Britain the goddess of love\nwas turned into St. Brychan's daughter; and as late as the fourteenth\ncentury lovers are said to have come from all parts to pray at her\nshrine in Anglesey. Another similar example is found in the confusion of\nSt. Bridget and an Irish goddess, whose gifts were poetry, fire and\nmedicine ... almost all the incidents in her legend can be referred to\nthe Pagan ritual.\"\n\nAnd though so many long centuries have passed since the days when the\nDruid priests offered propitiatory sacrifices to the spirits that dwelt\nin the great oak-trees, yet in the minds of the descendants of those old\nCelts (in spite of all that civilisation and intermixture with other\nraces have done) there still lingers a trace of mystery, a readiness of\nbelief in things outside the realm of the five senses, which perhaps\nfuture ages will never quite obliterate. For this quality, call it what\nwe will (and too often it has degenerated into mere superstition), is\nyet of the \"Unknown,\" and for all we can tell may indeed be a spark,\nthough dwindled, of the Divine fire. As every one knows, among the\nHighlanders this curious mystic vein sometimes produces seers, and their\ngift is called \"second sight.\" According to a very interesting book\ncalled \"A Description of the Western Islands of Scotland,\" published in\n1703, this power of foretelling the future was in those days a\nrecognised talent possessed by certain individuals, which apparently\nexcited but little surprise among the rest of the community. The writer\nof the \"Description\" says: \"It is an ordinary thing for them (the seers)\nto see a Man who is to come to the house shortly after, and if he is not\nof the Seer's acquaintance, yet he gives such a lively description of\nhis Stature, Complexion, Habit, &c., that upon his arrival he answers\nthe character given him in all respects. I have been seen thus myself by\nSeers of both sexes at some hundred miles' distance--some that saw me in\nthis manner had never seen me personally.\" In Wales also, if we may\nbelieve the old writers, there seems to have been a class of persons\nsomewhat resembling the Highland seers, and called \"Awenyddion\"\n(inspired people). \"When consulted upon any doubtful event, they roar\nout violently, and become as it were possessed of an evil spirit. They\ndeliver the answer in sentences that are trifling, and have little\nmeaning, but are elegantly expressed. In the meantime, he who watches\nwhat is said unriddles the answer from some turn of a word. They are\nthen roused as from a deep sleep, and by violent shaking compelled to\nreturn to their senses, when they lose all recollection of the answers\nthey gave.\"\n\nAnd though the day of the Awenyddion is long past, yet something of\ntheir inspiration, and a faint echo of the bards' songs of valour and\nenchantments seems still to linger about the mountains of Wales. It is\ntrue that down in the valleys the railways and Council schools have\nrouted the \"Tylwyth Teg\" (fairies) from those \"sweet green fields\" of\nwhich Matthew Arnold wrote; and the young generation has no time to\nspare for listening in the winter evenings to the old folks' tales of\nhaunted \"mansions,\" or of the \"canwyll corph,\" or the awe-inspiring\n\"G[^w]rach\" spectre. And there are very few people left now who will\nmistake the weird cry of a string of wild geese flying high overhead in\nthe winter dusk, for the shrieks of tormented souls pursued by the\nhounds of hell. Still, though fast disappearing, some of the old tales\nand beliefs are not entirely lost in the more remote localities; and it\nwas with the idea of preserving a few of them from oblivion that this\nbook was begun. Living, as I have for many years, in a hitherto\nlittle-known part of the Principality, where almost every old country\nhouse has its ghost (sometimes more than one), and where the highest\nhill is crowned by the grave of a mighty \"ca[^w]r\" (or giant)--though\narch\u00e6ologists will tell you that it is merely a British\nburial-mound--and where the neighbouring lake is inhabited by fairy\ncattle that disappear at the approach of man; it is impossible not to\nfeel regretful that all these old stories should be forgotten.\nEspecially will any one feel this who happens to have Celtic blood in\nhis veins; in which case, and if he inhabits a corner of \"fair Cambria,\"\nsome of the things he hears will not appear so highly improbable and\nfar-fetched as they might to the less imaginative Saxon. We all know\nOwen Glendower's celebrated assertion:\n\n    \"I can call spirits from the vasty deep,\"\n\nand his description of the wonders that local tradition told him had\npreceded his birth. And we remember Hotspur's aggravating retort to what\nhe doubtless considered the empty boasting of the great Welshman. But\nliving amongst a people absolutely steeped in occult and legendary lore,\nquite ready to attribute any extraordinary characteristics in their\nleaders to supernatural aid, there is little doubt that Glendower's\nbelief in his wizard powers was as entirely sincere as his courage and\nenergy were unquestioned. But one rather sympathises, too, with Hotspur,\nwhen he describes afterwards how Glendower had kept him up\n\n              \"last night, at least nine hours,\n    In reckoning up the several devils' names\n    That were his lackeys.\"\n\nMost people like a good \"ghost story.\" Even the loudest of scoffers does\nso really; and he is generally the person who draws his chair nearest\nto that of the story-teller, and who, after asserting that the tale is\n\"all rubbish,\" will nevertheless proceed to say what he would have done\nat that particular point in the narrative when \"the candle burnt blue,\nand a faint rattling of chains was heard,\" &c. &c. But, as a fact, there\nare few real old-fashioned scoffers left. We have passed through the\nphase of extreme incredulity regarding occult happenings which was\ninevitable, and was merely the swing of the pendulum from the rank\nsuperstition and ignorance of the Middle Ages. Few people now venture to\ndeclare that \"there are no such things as ghosts\"; for the mass of\nevidence collected and weighed by savants, such as Gurney, Myers,\nHodgson, T. H. Hudson, and Sir Oliver Lodge, is overwhelming as regards\nthe truth that things _have_ happened, and do still happen, quite\noutside the limit of human explanation. But while most intelligent\npersons admit this, the time is still far distant when we shall be able\nto say how or why these things occur; though, guided by some of the\ngreatest thinkers of our day, we may at last dare to hope that our feet\nare set in the path of knowledge, and that at some future time humanity\nmay perhaps reach the goal, and lift the dark and impenetrable curtain\nthat hides the Unseen. Whether the world will be any better off, when,\nor if, that happens, concerns us of this generation not at all; in fact,\nmost of us who have this world's work to do, will find it best to leave\nclose investigation of supernormal phenomena to those who are able to\napproach such subjects with a scientific mind, capable of recognising\nand collecting truthful evidence, and of detecting and setting aside\nwhat is false. And how very much the false outweighs the true, when it\ncomes to a question of evidence in psychic inquiry, only the really\nconscientious searcher knows. All sorts of questions rise up in the mind\nof the critical inquirer and have to be satisfied before he will admit\nthe impossibility of accounting by human explanation for the experiences\nbrought to his notice. And besides the need for this severely critical\nattitude of mind, which we do not all of us possess, and in many cases\nthe lack of leisure necessary for such abstract study, there is another\nreason why it is best for the majority of us to refrain from speculating\novermuch on the whys and hows of these glimpses of the \"Unknown\" that we\nare occasionally granted. It is because many people have actually not\nthe strength of mind necessary to withstand the possible shock\noccasioned by occult experiences, and for these, such studies end only\ntoo often in mental disaster. This assertion may sound exaggerated, but\nit is not so; and if it serves as a hint of warning to those over-fond\nof dabbling in a sea of mystery, fathomless and wide beyond all human\nimaginings, so much the better.\n\nAfter these remarks, it will be realised that this book has nothing to\ndo with the scientific aspect of \"ghost-hunting,\" but is merely an\nattempt to gather together a number of stories dealing with the\nsupernatural, and particularly those connected with the old\nsuperstitions and beliefs of Welsh people which have happened to come to\nmy knowledge. Of course some of these tales are absurd, and interesting\nonly from their quaintness; yet in many of them there is an element\nwhich, as the French say, \"gives to think,\" and should interest serious\nstudents of the occult in search of fresh material. So, much of the\nghostly gossip in the following chapters belongs to Wales; indeed my\noriginal purpose was to deal with Welsh ghosts and superstitions only.\nBut in the course of collection, I came across so many interesting\nparticulars and incidents concerning people and places beyond the\nborders of the Principality, that I decided to include them in this\nvolume, on the chance that they may be new to most of my readers. All\nthe stories to be narrated are what are known as \"true\" ones, or have at\nleast a well-established reputation in tradition; the majority having\neither been told me at first-hand, or imparted by people who believed in\ntheir truth, and who, in many cases, had personal knowledge of the\npeople whose experiences they related, and of the localities they\ndescribed.\n\nNaturally, such tales as follow, in which hear-say must figure\nconsiderably, cannot lay claim to the evidential value possessed by the\ncarefully sifted records of the Psychical Research Society. But it may\nbe pointed out that many of the stories contained in Chapters II., III.,\nand IV. concern the constant _repetition_ of certain definite phenomena,\na feature which strongly supports belief in their foundation on a basis\nof truth.\n\nFor instance, it seems to happen continually that a person going to a\nhouse which he does not know is haunted, sees a \"ghost,\" and afterwards\nfinds, on relating his experience, that the apparition he describes is\nexactly what other people have also seen. A good example of this occurs\nin Chapter IV., where \"Colonel and Mrs. West\" saw the ghost of the\nheadless woman, being previously unaware that they were occupying a\nhaunted room.\n\nThis agreement in the testimony of people who at different times, and\ngenerally quite unprepared, have seen particular apparitions is an\ninteresting fact in itself, and surely not to be altogether despised as\nevidence of the cumulative order, though the scientific details demanded\nby the professional ghost-hunter may be lacking.\n\nThe stories in my later chapters dealing with some ancient Welsh\nsuperstitions need no comment, as, whatever may be thought of them as\nsupernatural incidents, their interest from the standpoint of folk-lore\nis indisputable, and for that reason alone they are worth recording.\n\nThroughout this book I shall change the real names of people for\nfictitious ones or initials, for reasons that will be obvious to every\none. There are a few exceptions; and where they occur they will be\nnoted. In most cases I shall disguise the names of houses, and sometimes\nthose of villages and towns; but where the names of counties are\nmentioned they are the true ones.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nWELSH GHOSTS\n\n    \"A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall\n    Now somewhat fallen to decay,\n    With weather-stains upon the wall,\n    And stairways worn, and crazy doors,\n    And creaking and uneven floors,\n    And chimneys huge and tiled and tall.\"\n\n\nIn one of the most remote parts of South Wales there stands on a low\ncliff that is washed by the waters of a certain bay in St. George's\nChannel a very curious old house which we will call Pl\u00e2sgwyn. Inside one\nfinds walls many feet in thickness, dark panelled rooms with enormous\ncupboards, and a beautiful oak staircase, its shallow, uneven steps\npolished by the feet of many generations. Of course there is a ghost\nstory too, and one possessing an element of picturesqueness, its origin\ndating far back to the days when smuggling was considered by quite\nrespectable people as a useful means of increasing their income in a\ngentlemanly manner.\n\nWhen one reflects on the lonely situation of Pl\u00e2sgwyn, and\nlistens--especially in winter--to the boom of wind and wave advertising\nwith loud persistence the nearness of the sea, it is not difficult for\nthe imagination to conjure up those far-away times; to picture the\nlanding of many an interesting cargo in the little cove hard by when the\nnights were dark and stormy and the Revenue men off their guard; and to\nconjecture that perhaps many crimes were committed at that period by\nvillains using the smuggler's cloak to cover misdoing, and that possibly\nsome such dark deed may have happened in the old house, thus giving a\nreal foundation to our story.\n\nIt begins with an incident that was told me as having occurred a few\nyears ago at Pl\u00e2sgwyn. One day two maid-servants went to do some work in\nthe largest bedroom, used always as a visitors' room. When they quickly\ncame downstairs again, with white faces and trembling knees, they had a\nstrange tale to tell. They declared that in the room, floating in the\nair near the bed, they had seen what appeared to be a human hand and\nwrist, bleeding as if just severed from an arm, the fingers of the hand\ncovered with splendid rings. Horribly frightened, the two maids did not\nlook long at the apparition but fled downstairs as fast as they could.\nHowever, so convinced were they both of the reality of the thing they\nsaw that neither could ever be induced to enter the room alone as long\nas they remained in the house, and one at least was in the service of\nthe family for some years.\n\nNow the legend of Pl\u00e2sgwyn is as follows. Long ago a strange lady of\ngreat wealth once stayed there, and, for reasons now unknown, her hosts\nwent away leaving her alone one night. Feeling solitary and remembering\nwith alarm tales she had heard of the lawless doings of smugglers known\nto frequent the coast, she went early to her room and tried to sleep.\nWell-grounded indeed were her fears, for in the middle of the night she\nwas aroused by loud knocking at her door and rough voices demanding\nadmittance. Terrified, the lady tried to hold the door, but in vain. It\nsoon gave way beneath violent blows, and her arm, thrust forward in\nfeeble resistance, was seized and held. Unfortunately, she had forgotten\nto remove her rings, of which she wore many of great size and\nbrilliance, and the sight of the jewels so excited the greedy robbers\nthat they immediately tried to pull them off. They fitted the fingers so\ntightly, however, that they would not move; accordingly, the ruffians,\ndetermined to have possession of them, ruthlessly chopped off the poor\nwoman's hand and wrist, immediately afterwards decamping with their\ndreadful booty. Ever since that night, runs the tale, those who have the\n\"gift\" may sometimes see the jewel-covered hand hovering over the bed in\nthe room once occupied by the ill-fated lady.\n\nNor is the spectral hand the only uncanny thing to be seen at Pl\u00e2sgwyn,\nif local rumour be correct; which declares that the spirit of \"Old\nBrown,\" a former owner of the property, and from all accounts a person\nof much character (whether good or bad matters not), has been seen in a\nball of fire rolling down the staircase into the hall at midnight!\n\nI have never met anybody who has witnessed this somewhat alarming\nphenomenon, but the legend is merely related for what it is worth, and\nas it was told me by a very old inhabitant of the neighbourhood. And\nwhether the \"ball of fire\" is only an absurdity, originating in some\none's too lively imagination, or really one of those \"fire elementals\"\nof which advanced occultists tell us, must be left to the reader's\njudgment to determine. But there are few people of imagination who could\nvisit this quaint old house without feeling that scarcely any tale of\nthe marvellous relating to it would sound incredible in such a setting.\n\nOf quite a different type is another incident connected with the same\nplace, which, though it certainly lacks sensation, is curious as one of\nthat class of apparently pointless events so realistic as to seem\ncommonplace, and which yet leave one in a perfect \"cul-de-sac\" of\nmystification as to why they should have happened at all.\n\nMany years ago--perhaps thirty or forty--a meet of the hounds took place\nat Pl\u00e2sgwyn. Most of the houses round sent representatives, but the meet\nwas not a large one. Among those who drove over were a Mrs. A. and her\nfriend Miss B. When riders and hounds had trotted off to draw the\ncoverts near the house, the hostess, Mrs. C., suggested that she and\nher daughter, with Mrs. A. and her friend, should walk out and watch\nthe find. The two elder ladies kept on the main road, just outside the\ndrive gate, while Miss C. and Miss B., more energetic, went through some\nfields and climbed a little hill which commanded a good view of the\ncovert where the hounds were. Just beneath them was the field where all\nthe riders were grouped, and beyond that was the road, a short stretch\nof which was plainly visible from the hill, though at each end of this\nopen piece it was hidden by the trees.\n\nAfter they had been waiting some little time on the hill-side, the two\nladies heard the sound of a horse trotting quietly along the road\nbeneath the trees, and very soon a rider mounted on a white horse, and\nwearing a red coat, emerged in the open part of the road, presently\ndisappearing again beneath the further trees.\n\nMiss B. remarked: \"That must be Mr. X.\" (the only gentleman in the\ndistrict who usually hunted on a white horse), \"how late he is.\" And she\nand Miss C. concluded that Mr. X. was making his way down the road to\nwhere a gate beyond the trees would take him into the field where the\nrest of the hunters were gathered. But the minutes passed, and he never\ncame to join the other riders, though Miss B. and her friend must have\nseen him if he had done so. However, they supposed that he was perhaps\nwaiting in the road after all, hidden by the trees, and so thought no\nmore of the matter.\n\nLater on when the ladies were lunching at Pl\u00e2sgwyn, and were joined by\nsome of the returned hunters, Miss B. mentioned having seen Mr. X. go\nalong the road towards the covert. \"You must be mistaken,\" said one of\nthe party, \"he was not out to-day.\" The two ladies then described the\nrider they had seen, and were still more puzzled when told that _no one_\nhad appeared with the hounds wearing a red coat and riding a white\nhorse! Yet Miss B. and her friend knew they had both seen such a\nhorseman, and that he was as absolutely real to them as the rest of the\n\"field\" close by. The odd thing was, that a good many people were\ngathered in the road beneath the trees behind the open stretch referred\nto, among them being Mrs. A. and Mrs. C. Now none of these people had\nseen any such rider pass them, though he was coming from their direction\nwhen he became visible to Miss B. on the hill, and yet he must have been\na noticeable figure in his red coat on the white horse. He certainly did\nnot come from the opposite direction and then turn in his tracks before\nreaching the foot-people, because in that case he must have been seen\narriving by Miss B. and Miss C. who had been waiting some time on the\nhill-side overlooking the road. The mystery was never solved, for when\nMiss B. next saw Miss C. the latter said she had made inquiries amongst\nother people who were out hunting that day, and no one had seen the man\non the white horse. Neither had he been seen by the country people,\nthough as is usual in Wales on a hunting day, there were a good many\nlabourers, &c., round the coverts and in the fields, snatching an hour's\nholiday for a taste of sport. When relating the experience to me after\nthe lapse of many years, Miss B. said she had no theory to offer on the\nsubject, having always regarded it as a mystery defying ordinary\nexplanation.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThere does not seem to be any tradition connected with Pl\u00e2sgwyn which\nwould throw light on the appearance of this phantom horseman, but a\nshort time ago, I thought I had really come across his track, in\nconversation with a certain friend. This Mr. R. declared that once when\nhe and others were hunting on the hills, they suddenly saw an \"unknown\nhorseman\" riding with the hounds, who, as they approached him,\ndisappeared, no one knew whither, nobody at the time or since having\nbeen able to \"place\" him, either as a stranger or inhabitant of the\ncountry. But that the apparition _was_ an apparition, and no horse or\nman of flesh and blood, Mr. R. seemed firmly persuaded. Roughly\nspeaking, the district where this mysterious rider was seen would be\nabout a dozen miles from Pl\u00e2sgwyn.\n\nBut there are two phantom hunt legends belonging to Cardiganshire. Of\none I have only gleaned the very vaguest particulars, to the effect that\non a certain farm in the sea-board parish of Penbryn, a ghostly pack of\nhounds and hunters have occasionally been seen, all circumstantial\ndetails, or any origin for the tale being wanting.\n\nThe other tradition of a spectral chase is really picturesque, and\nlocated in the neighbourhood of the little town of Lland----l, is\nrelated by Mr. Alfred Rees, in his charming book \"Ianto the Fisherman.\"\nCondensed, the story runs that long ago there lived, a few miles from\nLland----l, an old gentleman-farmer, who was well known and liked as a\ntrue sportsman throughout the county. He kept a pack of harriers, and\nhad hunting rights over a considerable tract of country. His end was\ntragic, for one November evening, when returning late with the hounds,\nhe was shot in the woods above the house by a supposed poacher; though\nin spite of the great hue and cry raised by such a foul deed, the\nmurderer managed to evade justice. But, \"the villagers still declare,\nthat whenever November nights are moonlit and windy, the huntsman's horn\nis heard above the wood, and the pack winds down the glade in full\nmusic, till suddenly a shot echoes in the valley, after which there is\nsilence. They declare that Will the Saddler, a sober deacon, coming home\none night, when he had taken some mended harness to a farmer at the top\nof the wood, witnessed plainly a full repetition of the tragedy. The\nopening scene appeared so real, that unmindful of religious prejudices,\nhe actually joined in the chase, till with the flash of the gun he\nremembered the story, and presently saw shadowy forms, attended by\nhounds and horse, pass by him down the glade with muttered whisperings,\nbearing the burden of their dead.\"\n\nAnother phantom horseman figures in the tradition attached to an old and\nwell-known Welsh house; which says, that always before a death occurs in\nthe family, a noise of galloping hoofs is heard coming up the drive\ntowards the house at dead of night. Nearer and nearer it draws, passing\nat length under the windows, then ceases suddenly at the front door, as\nif a horse were violently reined in there. A pause succeeds, then loud\nhoof-beats again, hurry-scurry past the windows, and so down the drive,\ngrowing ever fainter, till they are lost in distance. If sleepers are\nawakened and rush to look out, nothing can be seen. But in the morning,\nfresh hoof-marks will be found upon the gravel.[2]\n\n[Footnote 2: The noise of a ghostly equipage being driven to the door is\nto be heard at \u00d4--l T--e, a house in Ireland. A friend who lived there\nfor some months told me she heard it not once but several times, and not\nonly she, but other people in the house heard it also. The sound was\ndescribed as unmistakably that of heavy carriage wheels; yet nothing was\nto be _seen_, nor could such a characteristic noise be accounted for in\nany other way.]\n\nMention of these ghostly horses and riders reminds one that\nPembrokeshire--in common with several other districts in Great Britain\nand Ireland--possesses a good phantom coach legend, localised in the\nsouthern part of the county, at a place where four roads meet, called\nSampson Cross. In old days, the belated farmer, driving home in his gig\nfrom market, was apt to cast a nervous glance over his shoulder as his\npony slowly climbed the last steep pitch leading up to the Cross. For he\nremembered the story connected with that dark bit of road, that told how\nevery night a certain Lady Z. (who lived in the seventeenth century, and\nwhose monument is in the church close by) drives over from Tenby, ten\nmiles distant, in a coach drawn by headless horses, guided by a headless\ncoachman. She also has no head; and arriving by midnight at Sampson\nCross, the whole equipage is said to disappear in a flame of fire, with\na loud noise of explosion. A clergyman living in the immediate\nneighbourhood, who told me the story, said that some people believed the\nghostly traveller had been safely \"laid\" many years ago, in the waters\nof a lake not far distant. He added, however that might be, it was an\nodd fact that his sedate and elderly cob, when driven past the Cross\nafter nightfall, would invariably start as if frightened there, a thing\nwhich never happened by daylight.\n\nIt is not every one who is acquainted with the precise meaning of the\nexpression \"laying a ghost,\" which Brand in his \"Antiquities\" advises as\nthe best remedy for cases of troublesome hauntings. \"Sometimes,\" he\nsays, \"Ghosts appear and disturb a house without deigning to give a\nreason for so doing; with these the shortest way is to lay them. For\nthis purpose there must be two or three clergymen and the ceremony must\nbe performed in Latin.... A Ghost may be laid for any time less than a\nhundred years and in any place or body, as a solid oak, the point of a\nsword, or a barrel of beer, or a pipe of wine.... But of all places the\nmost common and what a ghost least likes is the Red Sea.\" From another\nauthority we learn that seven parsons are necessary to this weird\nperformance. They must all sit in a row, each holding a lighted candle,\nand should all seven candles continue to burn steadily, it shows that\nnot one of the reverend gentlemen is capable of wrestling with the\nuneasy spirit. But if one of the lights suddenly goes out, it is a sign\nthat its holder may read the prayers of exorcism, though in so doing he\nmust be careful that the ghost (who will mockingly repeat the words)\ndoes not get a line ahead of him. If this happens his labour is lost,\nand the ghost will defy his efforts and remain a wanderer. In some parts\nof the country it was believed that only a Roman Catholic priest could\nlay a ghost successfully.\n\nBut to return to Pembrokeshire. About a mile or so from Sampson Cross,\nthere is a certain rectory said to be haunted by a mysterious \"grey\nfigure\" which sometimes showed itself in the \"best bedroom.\" Two\nvisitors, on different occasions (having previously known nothing of any\nsupposed ghost in the house), declared that they had seen a \"grey lady\"\nstanding by their bedside. A daughter of the house, who told me about\nthis apparition, added that though she herself had never _seen_\nanything, yet one night when she chanced to sleep in this room, she had\nbeen awakened by the most horrible and mysterious noises. She described\nthe sounds as resembling \"the groans and cries of a tortured animal,\"\nand they came, not from beneath the window (which looked on a strip of\ngarden), but apparently from high up in the air above it, and could not\nbe accounted for in any ordinary way. Nor does there seem to be any\nstory connected with the house in past times which might afford a clue\nto the meaning of these hauntings; or if any event of tragic or dramatic\nsignificance ever took place there, it has been forgotten by the present\ngeneration. Yet it is quite reasonable to suppose that some such event\nmay have happened at that lonely rectory. There must be few houses,\nconstantly inhabited for, let us say, fifty years, of which the walls\nhave not witnessed many varying circumstances of life--circumstances of\njoy and woe, and all the shades between. And besides actual events,\nthink of the developments of human character, the play of different\ntemperaments, and the range of passions and emotions that any such house\nhas sheltered! And if, as some psychologists aver, human passions,\nthoughts, and emotions have at their greatest height actual dynamic\nforce, capable of leaving impressions on their environment which may\nendure for ages, and even be perceptible to certain people--then does\nnot this assertion supply us with a reason for many of the unexplained\n\"ghosts\" and hauntings of which one so constantly hears?\n\nFor we can easily believe that these impressions would be most apt to\nlinger round those earthly scenes best known in life, and where perhaps\nonly the most ordinary chain of familiar events sufficed to lead up to\nthe crisis which evoked the elemental passions and emotional force of\nsome strong personality.\n\nCertainly the lady who furnished the few particulars about the rectory\nghost must possess the sixth sense necessary for the perception of these\nimpressions, for she added that she had once seen an apparition in\nanother Pembrokeshire house, where she happened to be staying. One day\nduring her visit, as she was coming out of her room in search of a book\nshe wanted from the bookcase on the landing, she suddenly saw a woman's\nfigure appear in front of her. \"A little thin person,\" she described,\n\"dressed in light blue, with sandy hair, much dragged up on top of her\nhead,\" presenting altogether such a curious old-fashioned appearance\nthat Miss L----d looked very hard at her, and wondered who she could be,\nand where she had appeared from. But the next moment the figure vanished\nfrom view through the door of another bedroom. Although her curiosity\nwas rather roused by the odd looks of the woman she had seen, Miss\nL----d thought little of the incident, imagining she must have seen one\nof the servants in rather strange attire. And it was only when she had\nbeen several days longer in the house that she discovered it possessed\nno inmate in the slightest degree resembling the queer apparition of the\nlanding, which she was forced to conclude was no human being, but most\nprobably the family ghost! Personally I know this house well, and had\nalways heard there was supposed to be a ghost there; but though I have\noften stayed there, and even slept in the \"haunted\" room, I never saw\nthe sandy-haired lady, nor anything else of an uncanny nature.\n\nIn fact, the county of Pembroke is a happy hunting-ground for the\nghost-tracker. Nor is this to be wondered at, considering the\ninnumerable associations, legendary, historical and romantic connected\nwith a tract of country which is certainly one of the most interesting\nin Great Britain. So that the student of ghost-lore and superstition\nwill there discover a fine field for research, the only pity being that\nin Pembrokeshire as in other parts of Wales, although almost every other\nold country house has its ghost, yet the stories and legends connected\nwith these apparitions and hauntings are very often forgotten, and only\nvague details as to \"noises,\" or doubtful reports of spectral\nappearances are forthcoming. However, in the case of one house (which we\nwill call Hill-view), some kind of explanation is given of hauntings\nwhich seem to have continued for a long time, and have been remarked by\nvarious people who have rented the place. I first heard of the Hill-view\nghost many years ago, when it was said to have caused a frightful noise\none night in a room upstairs, which was apparently reserved for\nvisitors, and at the time that the sound was heard was unoccupied. The\nnoise was described as exactly like the thud and crash that a large\npiece of furniture, such as a wardrobe, would make in falling heavily on\nthe floor; there seemed no mistaking the sound for anything else. Yet\nwhen with fear and trembling the door was opened, those who looked in\nwere astonished to find nothing unusual in the empty room, or in the\ndressing-room which opened off it. All was in order, darkness, and\nsilence, and search as they would, nothing that could possibly account\nfor such a noise could be found, nor was the problem ever solved. That\nhappened a long while ago, but quite lately, the present occupants of\nthe house were one day sitting in the room immediately beneath the\nbedroom before referred to, when they distinctly saw the door open,\napparently of itself, and heard a sound as of some one entering the\nroom. On another occasion also, members of the family have heard\nmysterious footsteps; but none of them seem to have heeded the ghost\nvery much until a certain friend came to stay with them. This friend\nthey put to sleep in the haunted bedroom, and one night spent there\nseems to have been quite enough for her. Next morning she complained\nthat she could get no sleep, owing to the incessant noises--knockings,\nrappings, and scrapings--which went on all night.\n\nThat something of a sinister nature may still linger about that room is\nnot strange, if local report be true; which says that a very long time\nago a little boy--a son of the family who owned the property--was\ndreadfully ill-treated by a nurse or governess, and shut up in a\ncupboard in the room now haunted, where the poor child was eventually\ndiscovered, dead.\n\nNot a thousand miles from Hill-view is a house (we will temporarily\nchristen it Shipton Rise) which possesses a rather interesting little\nstory connected with a picture that hangs in the dining-room\nrepresenting a ship, called the _Shipton Rise_. The original of this\npicture was a vessel commanded once upon a time by one Captain Joseph\nTurner, of the East India Company's service. During a long voyage on\nthis ship, he was one night awakened by a voice, which said, \"Joseph\nTurner, get up and sound the well.\" He thought he was dreaming, and\npromptly went to sleep again. A second time the same call woke him, and\nagain he paid no attention, and slept. But once more came the voice,\nmore insistent than before, \"Joseph Turner, Joseph Turner, sound the\nwell!\" This time he was really roused, and felt so impressed that he\ndetermined to do as he was bid. So he went, and sounded the ship's well,\nand found a great leak sprung. The pumps were manned, and thanks to the\ntimely warning, the ship was saved.\n\nIt is extraordinary how very many stories of occult occurrences belong\nto what we may call the \"warning type\"; yet among them we find few\nresembling the foregoing instance, in which the message conveyed by\nghostly voice or visitant has been of use in averting misfortune. In\nfact these supernormal intimations seem to be generally heralds of the\ninevitable, rather than friendly envoys of any special Providence. The\ntraditional \"White Swans of Closeburn\"; the mysterious \"Drummer-boy\" of\nthe Airlies; the Lytteltons' \"White Lady\" (all figuring in tales too\nwell known for repetition), belong to this very large class of\nsupernatural incident which it seems only impending calamity can evoke.\n\nIn this connection there is a rather curious sequel added to the \"family\nghost\" story of Mayfield, a very old house in West Wales, dating back to\nthe year 1600. Among the family portraits there, one is shown the\npicture of a young lady in the dress of the eighteenth century. This was\na Mrs. Jones (Jones shall replace the real name of the family) and an\nancestress of the present owner of the house. Tradition says that a\nwicked butler murdered this poor lady in a large cupboard--almost a\nlittle room--which opens out of the dining-room. He then fled with the\nfamily plate, but finding it too heavy, he dropped part of his plunder\nin a ditch near the house, where it was subsequently found, though\nhistory is silent as regards the fate of the butler. Ever since then,\nthe ghost of the murdered lady walks out of the cupboard every Christmas\nevening (the anniversary of the tragedy), never appearing till the\nladies have left the dinner-table. At least, so runs the tale; and now\nfor the sequel.\n\nEarly in the last century, Mayfield and the property were owned by a\ncertain Jones, who had a brother living in India. Whether Mr. Jones was\na bachelor or widower at the time of the following occurrence, one does\nnot know, but at all events he lived at Mayfield by himself. He used the\ndining-room as a sitting-room of an evening, and after his dinner would\nturn his chair round to the fire, and sit there reading till it was\nbed-time. One night he had sat up later than usual, and as he shut up\nhis book and bethought him of bed, the clock struck midnight. In the\ncorner of the room, behind his chair, was the cupboard already referred\nto. Now as the last stroke of twelve died away, Mr. Jones heard the\nclick of the door opening. He turned his head and there, walking out of\nthe cupboard towards him, he saw the figure of a woman dressed in an\nold-fashioned costume. She advanced a few paces, stopped, and said in\nloud, clear tones, \"Your brother is dead.\" Then she turned and walked\nback into the cupboard, the door of which shut with a loud clang. As\nsoon as he recovered from his astonishment, Mr. Jones made a thorough\nsearch of the cupboard and room, but could find no trace of any inmate.\nConvinced at length that a message from the other world had been brought\nto him, he made a careful note of the date and hour of the incident. In\nthose days letters took a long while to travel from India to this\ncountry, and he had therefore many weeks to wait before the mail brought\nhim news that his brother had died, the time of death _coinciding\nexactly_ with the night and hour in which he was warned by the\napparition at Mayfield.\n\nAnother incident which seems to have fore-shadowed death (though the\nwarning in this case was not definitely given) recurs to my mind, and\nthough trivial in a way, it yet possesses a certain impressiveness,\nperhaps from its very simplicity and lack of any dramatic element. Or\nperhaps it is only because the locality described is so familiar to me\nthat the following little story seems more weird and realistic than it\nreally is. The reader must imagine one of the most peaceful and\nbeautiful spots in Wales, where there stands a large, square house\ncalled Wernafon, backed by hanging oak woods, beneath which flows a\nclear river. Higher up the vale the stream loiters through pleasant\nmeadows, affording the angler many a tempting pool; but as it reaches\nWernafon, it begins to sing and clatter over stone and shingle as if it\nalready heard the calling of the not far-distant sea, while in\nflood-time, heavy water rushes down, deeply covering stepping-stones,\nand swamping shallow fords. So, for the convenience of the Wernafon\nworkmen and labourers, and others who live on the hither side of the\nriver, it is spanned near the house by a narrow, wooden foot-bridge,\nwhich saves people a considerable walk round.\n\nMany years ago, there lived on the Wernafon estate, two labourers, whom\nwe will call Ben and Tom; and these men were great friends. They had\nworked together from boyhood, and when at last--both being old--Ben\ndied, Tom felt sadly lonely and forlorn. One day, soon after his\nfriend's funeral, he had occasion to cross the river by the little\nfoot-bridge, and as he trudged heavily along its narrow planks, his head\nbent down in melancholy thought, he suddenly came to a full stop, for\nthere was a man standing in the middle of the bridge. Moreover, as he\nlooked hard at the man, he somehow became aware that it was Ben who\nstood there, and who smiled at Tom as if glad to see him. Entirely\nforgetting for the moment that he had seen Ben buried but a few days\nbefore, Tom accosted him, and a short conversation ensued between the\ntwo about ordinary, every-day matters. But suddenly Ben asked his friend\n\"if he would like to see the inside of Wernafon, for,\" said he, \"I go\nthere every night, and a strange sight it is to see the people all\nasleep while I pass through.\" He then offered to take Tom through the\nhouse that very night, if he would meet him again on the bridge at\nmidnight; and without waiting for an answer, he glided along the bridge,\nand disappeared. Immediately and with a feeling of horror, it dawned on\nTom that the man he had just talked to had actually been dead for\nseveral days, and he began to think he had seen a vision or had had some\nextraordinary dream. Nevertheless, being a courageous old fellow, and at\nthe same time curious to see if any result would follow, he determined\nto keep the strange appointment. So midnight found him waiting on the\nlittle bridge. A bright moon illumined the river and banks, and by its\nsoft light, the old workman was presently aware of a dark shape\nhastening to join him. Greeting the living man, the apparition took his\nformer comrade by the hand, and led him to the front door of Wernafon,\nwhich, as might be expected, was closely locked and barred. But at a\ntouch from Tom's escort, the great door opened without a sound, and the\ncompanions passed into the hall of the house. There, the silence of\nsleep and complete darkness reigned. Yet without a stumble, Tom found\nhimself mounting the staircase with his ghostly guide. Arrived on the\nlanding, the pair stopped before a closed door, which immediately\nopened, allowing them to enter. Softly they crept into the room, Tom\nremarking that it seemed filled with a faint bluish light, unlike\nanything he had ever seen before. They gazed at the occupant of the room\nwrapped in deep slumber, and creeping out again, visited all the other\nrooms in turn, Tom becoming more and more bewildered by the strangeness\nof his experience. At last--how he hardly knew--he found himself\nstanding again in the moonlight outside the front door; and turning to\nspeak to his friend, discovered that he was alone. He rubbed his eyes in\nastonishment, for an instant before, Ben had been standing by his side.\nAnd now, except the fact of finding himself in such an unusual place at\nso late an hour, nothing remained to show that his adventure had been\nreal and not a dream. He went home, wondering greatly at what had\nhappened, and it does not appear that he saw the apparition again before\nhis death, which occurred suddenly, only a few days after his mysterious\nexperience.\n\nAt a much later period than the date of the above story, but still some\nyears ago, a curious instance of the \"warning\" kind occurred at N----e,\nwhich is a hamlet distant a few miles from Wernafon. Though in this case\nthere is nothing tragic or of an important character to record, yet it\nis worth recounting on the ground of coincidence alone, if coincidence\nit really was.\n\nAbout eight o'clock one summer evening, several neighbours happened to\nbe at the blacksmith's house, having a quiet smoke and gossip together.\nThey were sitting in a room at the back of the smithy, which faced the\nmain road. Suddenly the talkers in this room were startled by the sound\nof a tremendous crash. Exclaiming \"Some one's cart must have upset on\nthe road,\" they all rushed out through the shop, fully expecting to see\nsome bad accident. To every one's surprise, all was still, the road\nempty, and no sign of any vehicle could be seen in either direction.\nMuch perplexed, they went home, but the next evening, most of them were\nagain at the smith's, and of course began to discuss the strange\nincident of the night before. But as the clock struck eight, again came\nthe same terrific noise. Once more they ran out, and this time they\nfound a heavily laden cart upset on the road just outside the forge.\n\nNobody seems to have been killed or even hurt by the accident, and one\nwonders why, in the case of such an--apparently--unimportant event, such\nan impressive and collective warning should have been given.\n\nAmong my notes, I find mention of a little house near this same village\nof N----e, which was reputed to be haunted. The note says: \"Mr. Z. (an\nold gentleman well versed in the antiquities and folk-lore of his\ndistrict) told me about a haunted house called Tyhir.... About twenty\nyears ago, the man who lived there used to see _curious, little people_,\nof the size that could run under a chair, walking about the house. This\nman was so nervous of what he heard and saw that he would never, if he\ncould help it, stay alone in the house. Mr. Z. spoke once to another\nman, who had often gone to keep the other company on Sundays, when he\nwas afraid to sit in the house by himself. This second man told Mr. Z.\nthat though he himself had seen nothing, yet he had heard noises which\nwere quite unaccountable. The 'little people' seen were said to exactly\nresemble in feature the former dwellers in the house; a little old man\ncalled 'Tom Tyhir,' and his wife.\"\n\nCases of apparitions that have acted as protectors in danger to the\npercipient are occasionally heard of, and one of the most interesting\nstories of this type was recorded in a well-known Welsh newspaper, about\ntwo years ago, and will quite bear repetition in these pages. To quote\nthe original words: \"A story which appears strange even in these days of\ntelepathic experiment has appeared recently concerning the Rev. John\nJones,[3] of Holywell, in Flintshire, one of the most prominent\npreachers of his day. He was once travelling alone on horseback from\nBala to Machynlleth, where the country is wild and desolate. When\nemerging from a wood he met a man carrying a sickle. The man had been\nseen by the minister at an inn when passing. In answer to a question,\nthe minister gave information as to the time by his watch, and a short\ntime after, noticed the man had furtively moved into the field, and was\nrunning alongside the hedge, removing the straw from his sickle as he\nran. Then he noticed the man trying to conceal himself behind the hedge\nnear the gate through which Mr. Jones would have to pass. Firmly\nbelieving that the man intended to murder him, the minister bent his\nhead in prayer. As he did so the horse became impatient, and started off\nso suddenly that the minister had to clutch the reins, which had fallen\non the neck of the steed. Turning round to see if there was any\navailable help, the minister was astonished to find close to his side a\nhorseman in a dark dress, mounted on a white horse. No previous sound\nhad been given of the stranger's presence. Mr. Jones told him of the\ndanger he feared, but no reply was vouchsafed, the stranger simply\nlooking in the direction of the gate. Then the minister saw the reaper\nsheathing his sickle and hurrying away. The gate was reached, the\nminister hastened to open it for his mysterious companion, and waited\nfor him. But the guard on the white horse had disappeared as silently\nand unobserved as he arrived.\"\n\n[Footnote 3: This is the real name. The story is included by the kind\npermission of the Editor of the _Western Mail_.]\n\nAnd now this chapter will conclude with an account of a very frivolous\nspirit indeed, for the story of the Riverside ghost must be told. Rarely\ndoes one hear of a \"spook\" with a sense of humour, but that quality, as\nexpressed by a taste for practical joking, was evidently possessed by\nthe intelligence that used to haunt the old house to which we have given\nthe fictitious name of Riverside. Situated in one of the deep and\nbeautiful valleys of South Wales, and belonging originally to the\nancient family of Rhys, the house dates back to the time of Henry the\nSeventh. The last Rhys died about forty years ago, since when the place\nhas changed hands several times, though its present tenants have owned\nit for a long while, and have apparently been left severely alone by the\nghost.\n\nOur story goes back fifty years or more, to a time when a certain Mrs.\nX. and her infant daughter went to stay at Riverside. One evening after\ndinner, Mrs. X. went upstairs to see her child (whom she had left\nsleeping in her own room), but what was her astonishment and subsequent\nalarm to find the cradle empty. On inquiry and search being made, no\ntrace of the baby could anywhere be found, and the distracted mother\nrushed off to find her host, and acquaint him with her anxiety. Mr. Rhys\nreceived the news with the astonishing remark, \"Do not be alarmed; wait\npatiently, and the baby will come back.\" He then went on to say that all\nin the house were often annoyed by the tricks of the family ghost.\nFrequently books, garments, umbrellas, anything in fact, if left lying\nabout, would disappear in the most unaccountable way. But if no notice\nwere taken, the articles were always returned in a short time. Mr. Rhys\nadded he was convinced that the ghost had taken the infant, and that she\nwould certainly soon be returned. All this was cold comfort to the poor\nmother, who found the ghost theory a hard one to believe, and prepared\nto endure a night of suspense as best she could. Left alone at length by\nher friend with many exhortations to try and sleep, she could only lie\nmiserably awake, longing for the next day, when search could be renewed.\nBut towards morning, a sudden impulse seized her to get up and look once\nmore at the cradle, when scarcely could she believe her eyes! For there,\nsleeping peacefully, lay the missing child, who, it may be added, was\nnever afterwards any the worse for what sounds like a rather unpleasant\nadventure.\n\nOf the above story I think that \"se non \u00e8 vero, \u00e8 ben trovato\" might\nwell be said! But it is here recounted for what it is worth, as an old\ntale which probably had more or less foundation in facts of an occult\nnature.\n\nAnother tale of Riverside dealt with a lady in a green silk dress who\ncould be heard rustling about the house, and had also the usual\nunpleasant ghostly habit of appearing by one's bedside at midnight. But\nthe details--what there were of them--were too vague in character to be\nworth more than a passing allusion. A pity, as I have always thought\nthere might be interesting possibilities connected with the history of\nthis daintily robed ghost, whose presence in the old house was known by\nthat gentle, feminine sound, the soft rustling of silken attire.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nWELSH GHOSTS (_continued_)\n\n    \"Rest, rest, perturb\u00e8d spirit.\"\n\n\nMany stories of haunted houses are told where the disturbing power has\nseemed to have a distinct object in view, and this object attained, all\nfurther manifestations have ceased. Such was the case of a very old\nfarm-house in one of the South Welsh counties. It had long been known\nthat mysterious tappings were constantly heard there, proceeding always\nfrom a certain spot in the wall of one particular room. At last this\nhouse fell into such bad repair that it had to be partly rebuilt. When\nthe masons were pulling down the wall from whence the tappings came,\nthey found, carefully built into this very wall, an old register-book.\nIt was in a fair state of preservation, and the later entries in it\ndated from the time of the Commonwealth. They showed that a mason, who\ncould neither read nor write, was then appointed vicar of the parish,\nand the former incumbent turned out. However, he seems to have remained\namong his parishioners, performing the offices of the Church in secret,\nand we may suppose that, taking refuge in the farm-house (which very\nlikely was a place of more importance in those days), the clergyman had\nthe register-book hidden in the wall, to preserve it from falling into\nthe hands of the illiterate mason. The old book has been restored, and\nis much treasured by its possessor. Since its discovery, the house has\nbeen rebuilt, and is now entirely free from the mysterious tappings.\n\nA striking instance of what determination on the part of a ghost can do,\ncomes from Glamorganshire. Mr. Roberts, the owner of a very ancient\nhouse in that county, decided for various reasons to let it for a time,\nand was fortunate in finding a tenant who took it for a term of years,\nseeming to be delighted with the place. But after he had lived there for\na few months, this gentleman wrote to Mr. Roberts saying he could no\nlonger stay in the house. When pressed for reasons, he evaded reply for\na while, but at length said \"he could not stand the ghost.\" It appeared\nthat one day, soon after his arrival, he had been sitting quietly\nreading in one of the rooms, when on raising his eyes from his book, he\nhad been astonished to see \"a little old lady\" with a \"horrible frowning\nexpression\" standing close by him. As he gazed at her, she vanished as\nsuddenly and noiselessly as she had come, but this appearance was\nfollowed by many others; in fact, the old lady, always with her\nsinister, frowning look, haunted him. Whenever he least expected her, he\nwas sure to look round and find her at his elbow. And at last the\napparition had become too much for his nerves, and he felt he must leave\nthe place. He added that he was sure the old lady was an ancestress of\nMr. Roberts, who, annoyed at the family home being occupied by a\nstranger, evidently resolved to make herself unpleasant until she drove\nhim away, in which amiable resolution she succeeded.\n\nAs a rule, new bricks and mortar create an environment particularly\nuncongenial to a self-respecting ghost. Ivied walls, gabled roots, dim\nand musty passages leading to gloomy, oak-panelled rooms, supply the\nkind of setting that the spook of convention demands, and nobody passing\na certain little house close to the road, just outside the seaside\nvillage of Aber----n would ever think of its being haunted. Built some\nfifteen years ago by a retired seaman named Captain Morgan, this very\nordinary dwelling (of the five-windows-and-door-in-the-middle style of\narchitecture, absolutely unrelieved by gable, porch or balcony) is\ncertainly far from suggesting any thoughts of the uncanny. Yet I\nremember hearing, soon after it was built and occupied, that it was\nsupposed to harbour a ghost, though inquiry could elicit little beyond\nthe fact that Captain Morgan had remarked to a friend: \"I don't know\nwhat it is about my house, but we do hear the queerest noises that we\ncan't account for. We begin to think it is haunted.\" Then people who\nheard about these \"noises\" remembered rather a curious thing. Soon\nafter the house was begun, while the workmen were engaged on the\nfoundations they came across the skeleton of a man, buried in the earth,\nand examination revealed that the skull had a hole through the forehead.\nInstead of keeping these remains together, and having them interred in\nconsecrated ground, the finders carelessly left the bones lying about\nuntil they crumbled away and were hopelessly scattered. Whether this\ndiscovery had anything to do with the disturbances of which Captain\nMorgan and his family complained one can but conjecture; time has long\nsince closed the page on which is written the fate which overtook some\nunknown individual on that spot perhaps a century or more ago, and there\nis no local tradition to help one to frame a reason for any such deed of\nviolence. However, the inexplicable sounds are no longer heard; and it\nis said that their cessation dates from the day of a terrible\nthunder-storm when the house was struck by lightning (though not much\ndamaged), an electric disturbance which seems to have effectually laid,\nor at least frightened away, the ghost.\n\nCarmarthenshire abounds in tales of ghosts and ghostly happenings. I\nknow one house of great antiquity and historic interest in that county\nwhich possesses a spectre of most approved pattern in the person of a\nheadless lady, who, report says, may be met walking along a certain path\nin the garden by an old yew-tree, at the uncomfortable hour of one in\nthe morning. She is also supposed to account for mysterious footsteps\nsometimes heard in an upstairs passage. Two people of my acquaintance\nhave heard these footfalls, and declare they are produced by no human\nagency. A family tradition says that dancing must never take place in\nthe drawing-room; if it does, the ghost will surely appear among the\ncompany.\n\nBut far more interesting than the vague rumours concerning the \"headless\nlady\" (after all, a most conventional type of ghost) is the story\nconnected with a maple-tree growing by the roadside, about a mile and a\nhalf from the house just described. \"Once upon a time\" there was a poor\ntramp, who, walking along this road (which is the highway to\nCarmarthen), sat down to rest at the very place where the tree now\nstands. He carried a staff made of maple-wood, which he plunged into the\nground beside him, and soon, being very tired, he went to sleep. He\nnever woke again, for while he slept he was foully murdered. His body,\nof course, was found and removed, but nobody noticed the maple staff,\nstuck in the ground beside him; and left there, it took root, flourished\nand became the tree one sees there now. And local belief declares the\nspot is haunted. Nothing, say the country people, is ever _seen_; but\nafter nightfall, no animal, and especially horses, will willingly pass\nthe tree, which still marks the scene of an otherwise long-forgotten\ntragedy.\n\nIf we continued our way along the road for a few miles beyond the\nmaple-tree, we should come to a house said to possess a ghost story, for\nwhich, in repeating here, I feel I must apologise, owing to its very\napocryphal character. But I cannot resist the temptation to relate it;\nas the tale--even if it is untrue, and perhaps it is not--is such an\nexcellent example of the kind that sends one to bed with the \"creepy\nfeeling\" that all really enjoyable ghost \"yarns\" should produce. Well,\nmany years ago, a young widow who was related to her hosts, went to pay\na visit at this house, and was given a room containing a large,\nfour-post bedstead. The dressing-table was against the wall opposite the\nbed. One night, as the widow sat before the glass, combing her plentiful\nlocks, and murmuring sadly (we may presume in affectionate remembrance\nof the departed), \"Poor John, poor John,\" she suddenly saw, reflected in\nher mirror, a horrid sight. There was the quaint old \"four-poster,\" and,\nhanging from the top rail, was the body of an old man. History is silent\nas to the feelings of \"poor John's relict\" on beholding this terrible\nreflection, but as she lived in Early Victorian times, it is safe to\nconclude that she immediately \"swooned\" and probably had hysterics\nafterwards. But she subsequently learned that an old miser had once\ninhabited that room, and had been strangled in that very bed one night\nfor the sake of his money.\n\nIt is usually supposed that bodily ills are left behind on our exit from\nthis mortal world, but the tale of a well-known ghost that used to haunt\nanother Carmarthenshire house (now rebuilt) rather contradicts this\ntheory. Owing to the official position of its tenant, a great many\npeople used formerly to be entertained there, and one day a certain\nguest asked his host which of the servants it was who had such a bad\ncough. He said that since he arrived, he had constantly heard some one\ncoughing terribly in the passages and on the staircase, but could never\nsee the person, although sometimes the sound seemed quite near him.\n\nThe host listened gravely, and then remarked that he was sorry his\nfriend had been disturbed by the cough, which was no earthly sound, but\nwas caused by the \"ghost,\" and had been heard by other people at\ndifferent times.\n\nThe \"coughing\" ghost had another idiosyncrasy. At this same house a\ncertain bedroom and dressing-room, communicating by a door, were once\noccupied by a friend of mine and her husband during a couple of days'\nvisit. Now this door between the rooms was carefully shut and latched\nthe last thing at night. In the morning, greatly to my friend's\nsurprise, the door was thrown wide open, although she felt absolutely\ncertain, and so did her husband, that it was firmly shut the night\nbefore. It was only a slight incident, but the strangeness of it rather\ndwelt in Mrs. L----'s mind, until one day after her return home, when\nshe happened to mention it to a neighbour, who remarked: \"You must have\nhad the haunted room. It has always been known that the dressing-room\ndoor can never be kept shut; no matter how tightly closed the night\nbefore, it is always found open in the morning.\"\n\nFor many years local legend has used Brynsawdde, the home of a very\nancient Carmarthenshire family, as a setting for various weird\nhappenings. Of these, perhaps the most interesting, and certainly the\nmost inexplicable, is a story that I well remember was current at the\ntime of the late owner's death, who was a well-known character in the\ncountry.\n\nIt was said that on the day he died a small black dog appeared--from\nwhence no one knew--leapt on the bed, and lay across the dead man's\nface. Chased away, it disappeared, but was again found sitting on the\ncoffin after the lid had been screwed down. And after the funeral, a\nwhisper went round that \"the dog\" had jumped into the hearse as the\ncoffin was put in; and that later it had appeared slinking, like some\nevil thing, through the knot of mourners at the graveside and was never\nseen again.[4]\n\n[Footnote 4: See remarks in Chapter VI. referring to \"Corpse Dogs.\"]\n\nAnother story tells how, not many years ago, some people were returning\nfrom a dinner-party in the neighbourhood, and as they passed Brynsawdde,\nwhich they knew to be entirely uninhabited, they were astonished to see\nevery window of the house brilliantly illuminated, as if for some great\nfestivity. Nor, on making inquiries, was the slightest explanation of\nthe lights ever forthcoming.\n\nNear the Carmarthenshire border lies the little town of St. Govan's,\nwhich, a very few years ago, was much agitated by the pranks of a most\ninconsequent and noisy ghost. Selecting the abode of one of the quietest\nand most respected families in the place for the scene of its exploits,\nit proceeded with demonstrations that not only aroused excitement in the\nneighbourhood, but for a few days attracted considerable attention from\nthe daily press. But in spite of close investigation no real solution of\nthe mystery was ever arrived at, though the sceptical (and larger)\nsection of the community at length dismissed the matter as a case of\ntrickery in some shape or other, an explanation which, in the light of\nmany reliable witnesses' evidence, was quite inadmissible to thoughtful\nminds, compelled eventually to relegate the strange happenings to that\ndomain which M. Camille Flammarion has so happily called \"L'Inconnu.\"\nThe first brief report of the occurrences in a local paper ran (slightly\naltered) as follows: \"Great excitement has been caused at St. Govan's\nduring the past week, owing to the alleged appearance in the principal\nstreet of a ghost. It has taken up its abode (so the story goes) in the\nhouse of Mr. Moore ... from which in the early hours of Sunday morning\nloud metallic clanks were to be heard. Mr. A. B. Rose and others at once\nproceeded to investigate, and it was found that a bed in one of the\nrooms was rocking violently, and in doing so, came in contact with the\nwall, causing the sounds which had been heard. Further investigation\nfailed to reveal the cause of the rocking. The bed was in contact with\nnothing but the floor, and nothing could be found to indicate in any way\nthat the rocking was caused by anything natural. It is curious that the\nphenomenon always takes place at about seven in the morning and at the\nsame hour in the evening.... This is not the first occasion on which\nmysterious occurrences have taken place, and many are inclined to\nattribute them to the supernatural....\n\n\"Since Sunday several attempts have been made to solve the mystery, but\nup to now nothing has been deduced from the observations made.... The\nstreet opposite the house has been thronged all day, and the aid of the\npolice has had to be called to remove the crowd of sightseers.\"\n\nThe \"metallic clanking\" referred to above was so loud that it could be\nheard many yards away from the house, down the street. But though noises\nand disturbance continued each morning for several days afterwards they\nwere never again as loud and insistent as on that Sunday. Various\npersons, bent on investigation of a more or less \"scientific\" order,\nsoon discovered that by establishing a code of rappings they could\ncommunicate with the disturbing agent, and accordingly each morning,\nvisitors arriving at the unconventional hour of 6.30 proceeded to the\nroom containing the mysterious bedstead, and by means of taps held long\nconversations with the \"ghost.\" These taps always came from the same\nplace on one of the walls. Some curious statements were thus obtained,\nand in one case when a lady (whom I know personally) was the\ninterviewer, some assertions made to her were quite extraordinary in\ncorrectness, containing as they did information known to no one else in\nthe town or district. On the other hand, it does not seem as if anything\nnew or interesting was imparted to anybody; the answers to questions in\nmost cases seemed evidently framed to suit preconceived ideas in the\nlisteners' minds, and however impressive at the moment, the statements\nwhen repeated certainly sounded most vague and unconvincing, _except_ in\nthe one instance referred to. But that the knocks and rappings were in\nthemselves absolutely genuine, and produced by some supernormal means,\ncannot be doubted. Any one who has ever had any experience of\n\"table-turning\" will realise that this genuineness of manifestation is\nquite compatible with the extreme futility of the \"information\" usually\nconveyed in such ways, and will recognise that the noises and rappings\nin the house at St. Govan's evidently belonged to the same class of\nphenomena. Manifestations of such a vehement and insistent order must\nsurely have had their origin in some unknown psychic disturbance, some\nmysterious jarring sufficient to set quivering the veil between things\nseen and unseen. And in this and similar cases it has always seemed to\nme that trying, however vainly, to find a reason for these disturbances\nis very much more interesting than heeding or dwelling long on the\n\"messages\" which reward the efforts of the investigator. For if indeed\n\"spirits\" are responsible for the replies to our questions they seem\nonly too often to belong to that \"lying\" class, with whom it is\ncertainly best to avoid dealings.\n\nIn regard to the haunted house of St. Govan's its history and\nassociations may have had something to do with the manifestations, for,\nas remarked in the previous chapter, there must be few old houses which\nhave not known strange happenings within their walls.\n\nThis particular habitation, of most unobtrusive and unghostlike aspect,\nis of some antiquity as houses go in St. Govan's. For many years it was\nused as a bank, and long before that, it was an inn. And surely a\n\"ghost\" was ever a necessary appurtenance to every respectable inn of\nthe olden days! But no authentic tale or legend remains to connect those\ntimes with the present, or to furnish a romantic background for the\nstrange and inexplicable behaviour of the \"St. Govan's Ghost.\"\n\nAnd as its noisy demonstrations daily became less, and at length ceased\nentirely, so public interest gradually waned; and no definite result\nhaving been obtained by any investigator, the subject--after forming for\nseveral weeks a sort of conversational bone of contention between\nsceptics and believers--shared at last the fate of all such abnormal\ntopics, and died a natural death.\n\nHigh up in one of the wildest and loveliest valleys that pierce the\nEllineth mountains, is a house which we will call Nantyrefel. One would\nlike to linger in description of a place possessing a unique charm,\nwhich must appeal to all who appreciate the enchantment of beautiful\nscenery surrounding a house rich in literary and romantic associations.\nSuch a place without a ghost would be incomplete, and accordingly it has\nthe reputation of being most respectably haunted, and by more than one\n\"spook.\" For reasons of discretion, we cannot here relate the most\ninteresting of the occult incidents connected with Nantyrefel; but to\npass its gates without mention of any one of its \"revenants\" would be\nimpossible, and so the following short tale shall be told.\n\nRather more than two years ago, a certain lady went to stay at this\nmountain abode, taking her maid \"Brown\" with her, a person, one is\nassured, of average intelligence, and not over-burdened with\nimagination.\n\nOne evening, during the visit, about nine o'clock, Brown had occasion to\ngo up the front staircase, in order to fetch something required by her\nmistress. Half-way up the stairs she paused, for, descending towards\nher, came an elderly man, with a long grey beard. Standing respectfully\non one side, Brown allowed him to pass, wondering meanwhile who he could\nbe, as she did not remember having seen such a noticeable figure about\nthe house before. Continuing his way down, the old gentleman reached the\nfoot of the staircase, and disappeared round a corner into the hall. He\nwalked very slowly, and the maid, looking round after he passed her,\nsaw, to her great surprise, that his clothes were of the most\nextraordinary and antiquated cut. Her errand despatched, Brown found her\nway back to the housekeeper's room, where she remarked to the butler\nthat she had just seen such an odd-looking old gentleman coming\ndownstairs; adding that she supposed he must have arrived by some late\ntrain, and was going down to get some dinner. The butler promptly\nreplied that no new visitors at all had arrived at Nantyrefel that day;\nand when Brown described the long beard and quaint garments of the man\nshe had seen, she was assured that there was no one in the least\nresembling her description in the house. Yet the maid knew she had not\nbeen dreaming, and that she actually had seen the old gentleman, and\nthat moreover he had brushed past her as she waited at the angle of the\nstairs while he went slowly by.\n\nSo it would appear that what Brown really saw was an apparition, one of\nthose household ghosts with which many an old mansion is peopled, could\nwe but see them; ghosts harmless and timid, with no mission to terrify,\nor grievances to air, but just indulging a little earthly hankering for\nan occasional visit to the scenes they loved in life.\n\nDo many people, I wonder, know the strange, uncanny feeling it gives\none, to return to a sitting-room at night, after the lights have been\nout, and the house quiet for an hour or so? One descends to fetch a\nforgotten book, and pushing open the door, one wishes the candle gave a\nbetter light that would reach those far dark corners. For surely the\nroom, so short a time deserted, is nevertheless peopled--and by what? At\nleast, that is the impression I have had, and very odd it is, and one\ncannot help wondering whether, at the\n\n    \"very witching time of night,\"\n\nthe \"gentle ghosts\" that Shelley writes of, really do creep out of the\nInvisible, and return for a little space to that human atmosphere, which\nperhaps some of them may have left many a year ago with regret and\nsorrow.\n\nAnd now, from the rather tame incident just repeated, we will turn to a\nreal \"thriller\" in the way of ghostly experience, namely, the story of\nGlanwern, in South Wales. Several mysterious tales are told about this\nhouse, but the most interesting one (and undoubtedly authentic as far as\nher own experience goes) was related to me by a Miss Travers, who was\nasked to stay there a few years ago.\n\nAlthough there was nothing remarkable about the appearance of the room\nthat was given her, it struck her at once with an odd feeling of\nnervousness, a feeling that increased so much when she was left alone\nfor the night, that having no night-light, she determined to keep both\nher candles burning. The hours dragged by, Miss Travers finding sleep\nout of the question. Suddenly, towards one o'clock, a sound broke the\nheavy stillness of the night, exactly as if some one had violently\npushed open her door and rushed into the room. Imagine her alarm! And\nthe greater, as nothing was to be seen, although the first was followed\nby a succession of noises resembling the shuffling of feet about the\nfloor, and struggles as of people fighting. After a time the sounds\nceased, but poor Miss Travers, too terrified to move, lay quaking, and\nhow she got through the night she never knew, for in an hour or so the\nsame thing occurred again: the door was burst open, and the shufflings\nand strugglings went on as before. This invisible performance happened\n_four times_ during the night, but on the fourth occasion the struggle\nseemed to cease very abruptly, and the next sound Miss Travers heard was\ndistinctly that of a heavy body being dragged across the floor towards\nthe door. And as this occurred, she felt a horrible and indescribable\nsensation of intense cold pass over her like a wave.\n\nResolved not to spend another night alone, and under the plea of feeling\nnervous, she asked one of the daughters of the house to sleep in her\nroom for the rest of her stay, but fearing incredulity, said nothing of\nher experience to her hosts, especially as after the first lonely night\nthere was no repetition of the sounds. But when at a neighbouring house\nshe mentioned where she was staying, her friend remarked, \"I wonder if\nthe ghost ever 'walks' there now.\" Judicious inquiry from Miss Travers\nelicited the story that \"once upon a time\" two brothers lived at\nGlanwern. One night they quarrelled and fought, one killing the other,\nand burying the body in a wood near the house. Ever since then the\nmurderer is said to haunt the room where the tragedy occurred.\n\nThe following tale, which was related as being absolutely true, I have\nslightly altered in two or three minor details, to prevent any possible\nlocalisation, as it is connected with a very well-known house and family\nin West Wales. Oaklands will be a good name for the house, and in the\nsixties and seventies of the last century a certain Colonel Vernon, a\nwidower, lived there as head of the family.\n\nAt the time of the story he had invited a young man, named Carter, the\nson of an old friend, to stay at Oaklands, and besides Carter there was\nanother guest, a Captain Seaton, who was a frequent visitor there, and\na contemporary and valued friend of Colonel Vernon.\n\nOne night Mr. Carter stayed up reading long after his host and Captain\nSeaton had gone to bed, and the lights in the house been put out.\nIndeed, it was nearly one o'clock when he lit his bedroom candle, made\nhis way across the hall, and upstairs on the way to his room. Half-way\nup the stair made a turn, and it was when he reached this turn and could\nlook back into the hall, which of course was quite dark, that Carter was\nastonished to see a light coming towards him down a passage which ended\nnear the foot of the staircase. Wondering who could be about so late,\nand thinking it might be one of the servants, he paused on the stairs,\nand was somewhat surprised to see the tall figure of a woman emerge from\nthe passage, and begin swiftly mounting the stairs. She wore a kind of\nloose, flowing garment, and as she passed Carter, who had involuntarily\ndrawn back against the wall, he saw that her face was extraordinarily\nbeautiful. He also noticed the candlestick she carried: it was of\nbrilliantly polished silver, and most curiously shaped in the form of a\nswan. As the lady (for Carter instantly divined that she was no servant)\nglided by without taking the slightest notice of him, his astonishment\nbecame curiosity, and determining to see what became of her, he followed\nher up the stairs. Never turning her head, or showing by the slightest\nsign that she was aware of Carter's presence, she reached the landing,\nwhere she stopped a moment, then turned down the corridor where the\nprincipal bedrooms were situated. Carter, watching, saw her stop at the\nthird door and enter the room, the door closing softly behind her.\nRousing himself from his surprise, Carter proceeded to his own room, but\nthe extraordinary appearance of the lady he had seen, joined to her\napparent unconsciousness of his presence, the unusual hour, and the fact\nthat he knew of no woman inmate of the house, other than the servants,\nproduced such bewilderment of mind that he found it impossible to sleep.\nEarly next morning he was astir, and happening to meet Captain Seaton in\nthe garden, he could not forbear relating his nocturnal experience to\nhis fellow-guest.\n\nWhen Captain Seaton heard the story he looked very grave and asked, \"At\nwhich door in the corridor did the lady stop?\" Carter replying that it\nwas the third door, Captain Seaton would say no more, remarking that\nthey would discuss the subject again later on, only begging him to say\nnothing of what he had seen to their host.\n\nSoon after breakfast, Captain Seaton asked Carter to come with him to\nthe pantry, where they found the butler, who had been many years in the\nVernons' service. Chatting with the old servant, Captain Seaton\npresently led the conversation round to the subject of the family plate,\nremarking how fine it was, and finally asking the butler to show Mr.\nCarter some of the most ancient and interesting pieces in the\ncollection. Much of the old silver was taken out of its wrappings and\ndisplayed, and at length Seaton said, \"But where are those queer\ncandlesticks? You know the ones I mean--made in the shape of a swan.\"\nThe butler answered rather reluctantly that the candlesticks mentioned\nhad been put away for many years, and he feared they must be very\ntarnished. However, on being pressed, he fetched down from a high shelf\nin the plate cupboard, a baize-covered parcel, and from it drew a silver\ncandlestick, very old and tarnished, but the shape of which, Carter was\nstartled to see, exactly resembled the one carried by the lady of his\nadventure. Seaton said to the butler: \"You are certain you have not had\nthese candlesticks out lately?\" \"Oh no, sir,\" answered the old man, but\nnoticing Seaton's serious expression, his tone changed to one of alarm,\nand he exclaimed, \"But what is the matter, sir? _Has anything been\nseen?_\"\n\nSeaton then asked Carter to relate again what he had seen the night\nbefore, and when he heard that the lady had entered the third room in\nthe corridor, the butler broke into a cry of, \"Oh, my poor master! Some\ngrief is coming to him.\"\n\nCaptain Seaton then explained that the figure Carter had seen was no\nhuman being, but an apparition, and that her appearance, carrying the\nswan-shaped candlestick--always brightly polished--invariably betokened\ntrouble or misfortune for the Oaklands family.\n\n\"It was Colonel Vernon's door you saw her open,\" added Seaton; \"let us\nhope on this occasion her coming has not been for evil,\" a hope that was\nunfulfilled, as before the day was over, Colonel Vernon received news\nthat his brother had died the night before.\n\nMost people will agree that there is something particularly unpleasant\nin the idea of a ghostly animal, though why it should be so is hard to\nexplain. But there is no doubt that the majority of us would prefer\nencountering a human rather than a four-footed \"revenant.\" The Welsh\nhave a superstition about \"hell-hounds,\" or _c[^w]n ann[^w]n_, as they\nare called in the Principality. These fearsome creatures are said to\nhunt the souls of the departed, and generally only their mournful cry\ncan be heard--a sound to make one shudder and tremble. But occasionally\na stray hound is seen by some unlucky individual, to whom the sight is\nsure to bring disaster or death--an old Celtic belief, and most\ncertainly superstition, but it recurs to one's mind in connection with\nthe following story.[5]\n\n[Footnote 5: In his \"Welsh Folk-lore\" the Rev. Elias Owen says: \"The\nFairy Dogs howled more at cross-roads and like public places than\nelsewhere. And woe betide any one who stood in their way, for they bit\nthem and were likely to even drag a man away with them, and their bite\nwas often fatal. They collected together in huge numbers in the\nchurchyard when a person whose death they announced was to be buried,\nand howling round the place that was to be his grave disappeared on that\nvery spot; sinking there with the earth and afterwards they were not to\nbe seen.\"]\n\nA few years ago, a certain Mrs. Hudson went to live near the small town\nof W----in South Wales. One day, not long after her arrival, she and a\nfriend went for a walk along the high road near the town. On their way\nthey had to pass a quarry, which was reached by a gate and path leading\noff the road. Just after the two ladies had passed this gate Mrs. Hudson\nheard a sound of loud panting behind her. She stopped, and looking back,\nsaw a large black dog come running out of the quarry down the path\ntowards the gate. Whereupon she said, \"I wonder whose dog that is, and\nwhy it was in the quarry.\" \"What dog?\" asked the friend, looking in the\nsame direction, \"I don't see any dog.\" \"But there is a dog,\" said Mrs.\nHudson impatiently; \"can't you see it standing there looking at us?\"\n\nHowever, the friend could see nothing, so Mrs. Hudson somewhat\nimpatiently turned and walked on, feeling convinced the dog was there,\nand marvelling that her friend neither saw it nor heard its panting\nbreaths.\n\nSoon after this, happening to meet her brother-in-law, who was an old\nresident in the neighbourhood, she asked him who was the owner of a\nparticularly large black dog, describing where she had seen it. The\nbrother-in-law, listening with a rather queer expression, answered, \"So\nyou have seen that dog! Then, according to tradition, either you or your\nfriend will die before six months are past. That was a ghost-dog you\nsaw; it has appeared to several other people before now, and always\nforebodes death.\"\n\nMrs. Hudson did not pay much attention to what she considered a very\nsuperstitious explanation of a trivial occurrence, feeling perfectly\ncertain that what she had seen was a real animal. But it was an\nexplanation she recalled with a feeling of horror, when within six\nmonths of the date of that walk, her friend most unexpectedly died. The\ncurious point in this experience is, of course, that the phantom dog was\nvisible to only one of the two friends, and that not the one for whom\nthe warning was intended.\n\nAs I have before remarked, there still lingers in some parts of Wales a\nbreath of that atmosphere of fairyland and romance which, to anybody\npossessing imagination, gives a peculiar value to ideas and beliefs that\nin less inspiring surroundings would be classed as unmixed superstition\nby people of common sense. So that the explanation given to a certain\nMr. Blair--who was partly of Highland extraction, and therefore\npossessed something of the Celtic temperament--of a singular little\nadventure that befell him in Wales, did not seem to him at all\nfar-fetched at the time, but rather the one most appropriate, and quite\ncharacteristic of the country. Business obliged Mr. Blair to live some\nyears in this particular Welsh valley, and often, after dinner in the\nsummer, he would cross the river, and walk up the opposite hill to a\nhouse called Wernddhu where some friends lived, and spend the evening\nwith them. From Wernddhu a narrow, steep road led down to the bottom of\nthe hill, where it ended; and from this point, a grass lane led up in\nthe direction of a farm.\n\nIn the twilight of a certain beautiful evening Mr. Blair left Wernddhu,\nand started to walk home. He had his dog, a spaniel, with him, and as he\ndescended the hill and reached the place from which the grass lane\ndiverged, he noticed his dog, who was running in front, suddenly lie\ndown and begin to whine. And then he saw that there was another dog, a\nbig Scotch collie, gambolling and playing round the spaniel, though\nwhere it had come from he could not imagine, as he was sure that no\nstrange dog had followed him from Wernddhu. But as he walked up to the\ntwo animals, his own still whining and shivering, the other suddenly\ndarted away and disappeared up the lane that led to the farm, much to\nthe apparent relief of the spaniel, who immediately seemed to forget his\nfright, and became quite lively again. Blair continued his homeward way,\nwondering to whom the collie belonged, as he did not remember having\nseen it anywhere about before. But the incident, slight though it was,\nsomehow made a decided impression on his mind, so much so, that he could\nnot forbear mentioning it next day to his old landlady, remarking that\nhe supposed they must have got a new dog at Nantgwyn--the farm to which\nthe grass lane referred to eventually led. Mrs. Morgan asked him what\nthe dog was like, and when told, she exclaimed, \"Why, indeed, Mr. Blair,\nyou must have seen the Nantgwyn Dog!\" She said it was no creature of\nflesh and blood, but an apparition which had appeared to other people at\ndifferent times. The story went that many years ago, a tramp had been\nfound lying dead on the very spot where Blair had seen the collie, and\nit was always thought that the dog, when living, must have belonged to\nhim, and with the devotion characteristic of its kind, had continued\nfaithful, even after death.\n\nWriting of these wraiths of dogs recalls a story told by a Welsh lady\nwhom I will name Miss Johnson, and who was staying during the winter of\n1874 with some relations at a house in the West of England. One Sunday\nevening about six o'clock, when Miss Johnson and the family were sitting\nquietly in the drawing-room, a great noise was suddenly heard exactly\nlike hounds in full cry. It seemed as if the pack swept past the\ndrawing-room windows, turned the corner of the house, and entered the\nyard behind. The kennels of the local hunt were only four miles away,\nand on hunting days the hounds often met or ran in the direction of the\nhouse. But to be disturbed by the cry of hounds on a Sunday evening was\nsuch an unheard-of thing that Miss Johnson and her friends were, for the\nmoment, petrified with amazement. Almost immediately the butler came\nrunning to the room, exclaiming, \"The hounds must have got loose! I hear\nthem all in the back yard.\"\n\n\"But how could they get in?\" asked some one; \"the gates cannot be open\nat this hour on Sunday.\" The butler went off looking rather\ndisconcerted, and not a little scared; and Miss Johnson went into the\nhall, where she found her collie-dog--usually a very quiet, gentle\nanimal--barking and rushing about in a state of frenzy. She opened the\nfront door, and the collie ran out, barking and growling savagely, made\na great jump in the air as if springing at somebody or something, then\nsuddenly sank down cowering to the ground, and crept back whimpering to\nhis mistress's side. An exhaustive search revealed not a sign of a hound\nor stray dog about the place, and Miss Johnson and her relations went to\nbed that night feeling much puzzled by the strange incident. Next day\ncame the news that a near relative of Miss Johnson had died suddenly the\nevening before at six o'clock!\n\nTwenty-five years later, Miss Johnson had a similar experience previous\nto the death of another relation, on which occasion the hour of the\ndeath, and the time at which she heard the hounds cry, again tallied\nexactly. And while meditating on the strangeness of such a coincidence\noccurring twice over, Miss Johnson remembered the tales that the country\npeople about her old home in Wales used to tell concerning the \"C[^w]n\nTeulu\" (family hounds) said to haunt the woods round the house, to see\nor hear one of which was a sure sign of death.\n\nSome people have a vague superstition about the ill-luck of a bird\ncoming into a house, and consider it a sure sign of approaching death\nshould a bird chance to dash itself against a window-pane, as sometimes\nhappens in a gale of wind, or through the attraction of a bright light\nwithin the room.\n\nA curious instance regarding this feeling, which occurred quite\nrecently, shows what tremendous power such a superstition may have on\ncertain minds, and how the mind, reacting on the body, may indeed bring\nfulfilment of what was regarded as a prophecy. The person concerned was\na Pembrokeshire farmer, well known to the friend who gave me the story,\nand whose words I now quote:\n\n\"Mr. A. B. Jones, of S----, who was one of the churchwardens of the\nparish for forty years or thereabouts, died unexpectedly and somewhat\nsuddenly, about three weeks ago. I went the day before yesterday to see\nMrs. Jones, who told me all about it, and mentioned the following\ncircumstances. On a cold Sunday evening last winter, just as Mr. R----,\nthe Rector, was going to the pulpit for the sermon, a starling perched\non Mr. Jones's head, and remained there: presently he put out his hand,\ngently grasped the bird, and putting it into his coat pocket, took it\nhome. He turned it loose in the stable, for he felt sorry for it, and\nwished to give it a chance of living. Mrs. Jones said she was, as I\nknow, not superstitious, but was it not odd?\n\n\"It seems that Mr. Jones had had for some months a presentiment that he\nwas not long for this world; his widow showed me an entry in his diary\nto this effect, and told me that he had been giving his son, a lad of\neighteen, all sorts of instructions not long before his death. Whether\nhe was influenced by the starling incident or not, I cannot say.\"\n\n(This account was written in September 1907, some months after Mr.\nJones's death occurred.)\n\nIn a very interesting old work, entitled \"Cambrian Superstitions\"\n(published in 1831), the author, William Howells, refers to the Welsh\nbelief in death-warnings brought by birds; quoting an instance which he\nmentions as being well known in his day.\n\n\"The following remarkable occurrence I cannot refrain from narrating, as\nthe family in which it occurred, who now reside at Carmarthen, were far\nfrom being superstitious; their seeing this will recall it to memory. As\nthey were seated in the parlour with an invalid lying very ill on the\nsofa, they were much surprised at the appearance of a bird, similar in\nsize and colour to a blackbird, which hopped into the room, went up to\nthe female who was unwell, and after pecking on the sofa, strutted out\nimmediately; what appears very strange, a day or two after this, the\nsick person died.\"\n\nHaving previously been told that the invalid was \"very ill,\" her demise\ndoes not appear in the cold light of print as \"strange\" as it did to Mr.\nHowells, in whose ears the story doubtless sounded more impressive than\nit does when read eighty years afterwards. After relating another story\nof the same kind, Mr. Howells goes on to say, \"I have learnt of several\nsimilar instances occurring in England, and many more are related in\nWales; but this bird has now, I believe, become a 'rara avis in\nterris.'\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nOTHER GHOSTS\n\n    \"What beckoning ghost along the moonlight shade,\n    Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?\"\n\n\nLet us now stray across the Cambrian border, and pursue some of the\n\"pale ghosts\" that one suspects are probably just as numerous in\nEngland, Scotland, and Ireland, as in \"superstitious\" Wales. And looking\nthrough my notes, the first story I come across seems quite worthy of\nrepetition, though the incident described was not rounded off by\nanything sensational in the way of sequel or discovery.\n\nA few summers ago, a certain Mrs. Hunt, who is a relation of some\nfriends of mine, took a house at Blanksea on the south coast for the\nsummer holidays. The house turned out all that was comfortable and\nconvenient, and nothing particular happened while the Hunt family were\nthere. But after they all returned home, Mrs. Hunt noticed that her two\nboys were continually talking between themselves of somebody called\n\"Bobo.\" At last one day she asked the children who they meant by \"Bobo.\"\nThey replied, \"Oh, she was the little girl who was always about the\nhouse at Blanksea, and used to play with us. She didn't seem to have any\nname, so we called her 'Bobo.'\"\n\nMrs. Hunt was extremely puzzled by this piece of information, as she had\nnever seen any strange child in the house, and at length she concluded\nthat it was only some nonsense imagined by the two boys. However, she\nstill could not help thinking a little about the mysterious \"Bobo,\" and\neventually determined to make some inquiries about the house; as to who\nhad lived there, &c. &c.; and great was her astonishment to learn\nthrough these inquiries that the house was always supposed to be haunted\n\"by the ghost of a little girl.\"\n\nThis story reminded me of a very old house near Arundel, in Sussex, said\nto be haunted by the ghost of a nun; and it is alleged that the\napparition has been seen by children living there. Inexplicable noises\nare also frequently heard, and a window visible from outside is said to\nbelong to \"the nun's room,\" though the room it really lights is walled\nup and cannot be entered.\n\nThe apparition of a child figures in another very curious tale. I was\nonce told of a certain rectory in one of the English counties, where,\nduring a summer not very long ago, a Mr. Shadwell, by profession an\nartist, went to stay as a paying guest. He was given a sitting-room of\nhis own, and did not join the family of an evening unless he felt\ninclined. One evening after dinner he was sitting reading in this room\nby himself, when the door was quietly opened, and in walked a little\ngirl. The clergyman had several children, with whom Shadwell had already\nmade friends, but this child he had not seen before, so concluded she\nmust have been away from home and had probably only just returned. So he\nremarked, \"Good evening, my dear, I don't think I have seen you before.\"\n\nHowever, the child made no reply, and did not even look at him, but\nwalking slowly along the side of the room, she paused, laid her hand on\na certain part of the wall, and then turned, and as slowly and\ndeliberately walked out again. Trifling as the action was, there was\nsomething so curiously impassive about the demeanour of the little girl,\nand her absolute indifference to his presence, that it struck Shadwell\nas extremely odd, and the more he thought of it the more uncomfortable\nhe felt, though for the life of him he could not imagine why. Next\nmorning, when he saw the Rector, he said to him: \"I did not know you had\nanother daughter, the little girl who came into my room last evening.\nWhy haven't I heard about her before?\" He spoke lightly enough, for a\nnight's sleep had convinced him that life in the country had made him\nfanciful, and that the impression made upon him by the silent child was\ndue to morbid imagination. So what was his astonishment to see the\nclergyman appear greatly agitated by his question, and apparently\nunable to reply at once. Presently he said to Shadwell: \"That was no\nliving child that entered your room, but an apparition which has been\nseen before; and I beg of you not to mention the matter to my wife, for\nshe always reproaches herself with being partly to blame for the death\nof that little girl, who was our eldest-born.\" He then told the artist\nthat a few years previously they had had workmen in the house, doing\nsome plastering and papering. One day, while the work was going on, the\nRector's wife had wished to pay somebody some money, and remembering\nthat she had just left half a crown on her dressing-table, she told her\neldest girl to run upstairs and bring down this coin. But after rather a\nlong interval, the child returned saying the money was not there.\nWhereupon the mother became annoyed, knowing she had really left the\nhalf-crown on the table, and told the child she must have either stolen\nthe coin or else be playing a trick for mischief. The little girl\nobstinately denied all knowledge of the money, so she was sent to bed in\ndisgrace, where she presently fell into such a terrible fit of sobbing\nand crying that an attack of convulsions came on, and finally she became\nunconscious and died. To the parents' grief was added remorse, caused by\nthe torturing doubt that the poor child might have been after all\nunjustly blamed for a fault committed perhaps by one of the strange\nworkmen, for the missing half-crown was never found.\n\nShadwell listened thoughtfully to this sad story, and later, after\nthinking over the incident of the evening before, in connection with the\ntragic circumstances of the child's death, an idea struck him. He at\nonce sought the Rector, and asked him whether he had ever thought of\nhaving the wall examined at the spot to which the apparition had\npointed. On hearing that this had not been done, he asked permission to\ninvestigate, and, with the clergyman's help, he opened the wall. And\nthere, embedded an inch or two in the plaster, exactly where the child's\nhand had been placed the night before, was a half-crown!\n\nNow was this merely a wonderful coincidence? Or may we believe that the\nlittle girl, having hidden the coin in the tempting surface of the wet\nplaster--whether for mischief or her own gain one cannot tell--was\nafraid to confess her fault? And Death overtaking her, could not give\nthe spirit rest, till its efforts to reveal the truth had been\nrecognised and understood.\n\nBut it is certain that since the discovery of the coin in the wall the\napparition of the child has never again been seen.\n\nAnother rectory that possessed the reputation of being haunted is that\nof Clifton, in Kent. This is a very old house, dating from the\nfourteenth century, and, according to my informant, who knew the house\nwell (a relation of his having held the living from 1869 to 1880),\nmysterious noises had often been heard there by different individuals.\nOne lady who was paying a visit reported having a \"dreadful night,\"\n\"with people walking up and down the passage, and muffled voices,\" but\nno one had left their rooms all night. And a youth of sixteen or\nseventeen, employed as an outside servant, declared that once when an\nerrand brought him into the house, he saw \"an old gentleman in a grey\ndressing-gown walk down the stairs before him, and suddenly disappear.\"\nWhatever it was he saw, the boy was so thoroughly frightened that he\nwould never enter the house again. My friend's letter continued: \"Mrs.\nLowther (whose husband, the late Dr. Lowther, succeeded my relative as\nRector) when 'moving in' elected to stay the night in the rectory by\nherself, instead of returning to ... London. The workpeople left, and a\nvillage woman, having prepared Mrs. Lowther's evening meal and made up\nfires for her in sitting-room and bedroom, went home. _Something_ is\nsaid to have occurred during the night, and Mrs. Lowther acknowledged\n(so the writer has been told) as much, but would never say what it was\nthat had alarmed her; but it is believed that she _did_ say that nothing\nwould induce her again to be alone in the house at night.\"\n\nI once went to tea with the wife of Canon C----, in the cathedral city\nof E----. In the course of conversation the subject of \"ghosts\" came\nup, apropos of which Mrs. C---- remarked: \"As you know, these houses are\nexceedingly old, being actually part of the ancient Norman monastery\nadapted to modern use. Very odd and unaccountable noises were for a long\nwhile heard in the house next door to ours, which of course is all part\nof the same old building; and these noises were vaguely ascribed to 'the\nghost,' though nothing was ever seen. But, at last, some structural\nalteration of the house became necessary, and in the course of this work\nthe discovery was made of a human skeleton, which had evidently lain\nhidden for centuries, and presumably was that of a Benedictine monk. The\nbones were carefully buried, and from that time no more noises have been\nheard.\"\n\nThis story rather resembles the tale of a much more interesting ghost\nwhich inhabited an old manor-house in Somersetshire, and which succeeded\nfor many years in keeping human beings out of the place. Time after time\nthe house would be let, people always making light of its haunted\nreputation, or else determining to brave its terrors. But they never\nstayed more than a few weeks, when they invariably went away, declaring\nthat one or more members of the household had seen an apparition on the\nmain staircase. The description--and rather horrible it was--was always\nthe same. The figure of a woman would come gliding downstairs, carrying\nher head under her arm, and on arriving at the foot of the stairs she\ninvariably vanished.\n\nAt last there came a tenant bolder than his predecessors, and gifted\nwith an inquiring turn of mind. He said he liked the place and meant to\nstay there, and if possible evict the ghost. And he at once began to\ninvestigate. Beginning at the attics he tapped and sounded every wall\nand suspicious-looking board in the house, with no result in the way of\ndiscovery till he reached the principal staircase. This, being the\nghost's favourite haunt, received special attention, and working his way\npatiently down step by step, he found at length under the old flooring\nat the foot of the stairs, a hollow place of considerable size. And in\nthis hole reposed, _headless_, a human skeleton (which subsequent\nexamination proved to be that of a woman) with _the severed skull lying\nby its side_. Then the enterprising tenant hied him to the Vicar of the\nparish and told him of the grisly find, and after due consultation it\nwas decided to collect the poor remains and bury them decently in the\nchurchyard, a ceremony which seems to have effectually \"laid\" the ghost,\nas report says it has never since been seen.\n\nBut to return for a while to the city of E----. The best ghost story I\nheard there concerns the Bishop's Palace, a beautiful Tudor house, said\nto be built on the site of the great monastery for which E---- was\nfamous in Saxon times, and the predecessor of the Norman building, of\nwhich parts still survive in the modern canons' residences.\n\nI was told that at some time during the sixties or seventies of the past\ncentury, a certain friend of the reigning Bishop was invited to stay a\nnight at the Palace. He had never been at E---- before, and therefore\nknew but little of its history or traditions. There was nothing at all\nextraordinary in the appearance of the room assigned to him, and he\nslept well enough for the first few hours after going to bed. But\ntowards morning he woke, and though he knew himself to be wide awake and\nnot dreaming, yet he had a terrible vision. He was first roused by\nsounds which appeared like people scuffling and struggling, and almost\nimmediately he seemed to be aware in some way of a dreadful scene being\nenacted in his room. Although all was dark, yet he saw, as if by some\nextra sense, that a man dressed in what looked like very ancient armour\nwas lying on the floor, while another figure in a monk's habit, knelt\non, and was apparently trying to kill him. The vision--or whatever it\nwas--lasted but a few moments, then the whole picture faded, and all\nbecame still again. The rest of the night passed undisturbed, though\nfurther sleep was impossible for the visitor, so great was the sense of\nhorror and absolute reality left in his mind by the scene he had\nwitnessed, and the sinister sounds he had heard. In the morning he\nsought the Bishop, to whom he described his experience, and who\nlistened gravely; answering that his friend's story was very remarkable\nin the light of an old tradition connected with the house, and with the\nSaxon monastery which it was believed anciently occupied the site of the\nPalace. At the time of the Norman invasion, the community numbered only\nforty monks; who, feeling themselves a small and undefended company, and\nprobably fearing local disturbances and possible pillage, when the\nConqueror's coming should be known, hastened to apply to William for\nprotection. In reply the grim Norman sent forty of his knights to be\nbilleted on the monastery, saying that each monk should have a knight to\ndefend him. Such a claim on their hospitality was probably rather more\nthan the holy men had bargained for, but the arrangement seems to have\nworked well enough, until at last a sad tragedy occurred. One of the\nmonks having quarrelled (we are not told why) with his foreign guardian,\nand quite oblivious of the danger he was thereby bringing on his\ncompanions, rose up in the night and murdered the warrior, taken\nunawares in the darkness. What followed history does not relate, but no\ndoubt William was careful to exact suitable vengeance for his slain\nfollower.\n\nThere is a curious medi\u00e6val painting still to be seen in the Palace,\nrepresenting the forty Saxon monks and their knightly protectors.\n\nStill one more story of a haunted rectory must be told, a story which\nwhen I heard it made a considerable impression on my mind, from the fact\nthat it was related by a person who, I feel sure, would stoutly deny\nthat she \"believed in ghosts.\" And so her incredulity regarding matters\npertaining to the world beyond our five senses made her recital all the\nmore convincing.\n\nSeveral years ago this lady, Miss Robinson, chanced to spend a summer\nwith the rest of her family at a certain country rectory, which her\nfather had rented for a few months. It should be stated that the\nneighbourhood was new to the Robinsons; none of them had ever been in\nthe county before, and when they first went to the rectory they did not\nknow any of the residents around.\n\nIt happened one evening when the days were very long, and there was\nstill plenty of light left, that Miss Robinson was going upstairs about\nnine o'clock followed by her little dog, which half-way up passed her\nand ran on to the stair-head. There it suddenly stopped short, looking\ndown a passage which led off the landing, and exhibiting every symptom\nof fear, shivering and whining, and its hair bristling. Miss Robinson\nthought this behaviour on the animal's part rather odd, but as she\ngained the landing and looked down the passage, wondering what had\nfrightened her dog, she distinctly saw a man cross the end of it and\napparently disappear into the wall. As there was no door at the spot\nwhere the figure vanished, Miss Robinson thought this still more\ncurious, but as she saw nothing further, and the dog also seemed\nimmediately reassured, she began to think they had both been victims of\na hallucination, and resolved to keep the matter entirely to herself.\n\nA short time afterwards she went to tea with some neighbours who had\ncalled on them; and after the usual conventional inquiries as to how\nthey liked the place, and so forth, Miss Robinson and her sister were\nasked, \"if anything had been seen by them of the rectory ghost?\"\nInstantly Miss Robinson's thoughts flew back to that evening on the\nstaircase, and her dog's terror. However, in reply, she only asked what\nform the \"ghost\" was supposed to take. The answer was that a former\ninhabitant of the house had murdered his wife, and that ever since, the\nmurderer's ghost was said to _haunt the end of the passage_ which led\noff the landing. As she listened to these words, Miss Robinson could not\nrepress a little shudder at the remembrance of the mysterious figure\nseen by herself and her dog at the very spot described. But no\nrepetition of her experience ever occurred, nor was the apparition seen\nby any one else in the house during the time the family stayed there.[6]\n\n[Footnote 6: Mr. Leadbeater would probably class this \"ghost\" as a\n\"thought-form.\" \"Apparitions at the spot where some crime was committed\nare usually thought-forms projected by the criminal, who, whether living\nor dead, but most especially when dead, is perpetually thinking over and\nover again the circumstances of his action. Since these thoughts are\nnaturally specially vivid in his mind on the anniversary of the original\ncrime, it is often only on that occasion that the artificial elementals\nwhich he creates are strong enough to materialise themselves to ordinary\nsight.\"--\"The Astral Plane.\"]\n\nThere is a curious story told of a country house of some antiquity in\nNorth Devon. This house was once let to a Mr. Barlow, who took up his\nabode there, and presently asked a friend to stay with him. This\nfriend's name was Sharpe, and he was put into a room containing an old\nand handsome four-post bed. Next morning, Barlow asked Sharpe what sort\nof a night he had had. \"Very bad,\" was the unexpected reply. \"I could\nnot sleep for the talking and whispering going on--I suppose--in the\nnext room. I hope you will ask the servants not to make so much noise\nto-night.\" Barlow accordingly spoke to the servants, who promptly denied\nhaving been anywhere near the guest's bedroom, or having sat up late at\nall. But the following day Sharpe had again the same complaint to make;\nhe could get no sleep on account of the tiresome \"whispering\" going on\nround him all night. Much mystified Barlow suggested a change of\napartment to his visitor, who refused, saying he would rather wait\nanother night and try to find out the cause of the disturbance. Barlow\nthen said he would sit up with Sharpe; and accordingly the two retired\nto the room at bed-time, and putting out the light, awaited\ndevelopments. Presently, sure enough, a whisper was heard, and very soon\nthe room seemed full of whispering people. After listening amazed for\nsome time, Barlow struck a match, when immediately the sounds ceased,\nnor, although both men carefully examined walls, chimneys, windows, and\nevery nook and corner anywhere near the room, could they find a sign of\na human being, or any possible reason for the extraordinary\nmanifestation. But both noticed with astonishment that, whereas the\ncurtains had been pulled back off the bed, ready for occupation, they\nwere now pulled _forward_, and the ends neatly folded up on the pillows\nas a bed is left in the day-time.\n\nAfter this Sharpe changed his room for the rest of his stay, but Barlow\nmade diligent inquiries until he found out all that he could about the\nprevious history of the house, and particularly of the room containing\nthe four-poster. He learnt eventually that the big bed had been for many\ngenerations in the house, and had always been used when there was a\ndeath in the family for the lying-in-state of the corpse.\n\nAnother Devonshire house, D----n Hall, the ancestral home of an old and\nwell-known family, is haunted by a lady who sometimes surprises visitors\nunaccustomed to her little ways.\n\nOn one occasion a husband and wife, who happened to be staying at\nD----n, were both dressing for dinner on the first evening of their\nvisit. Suddenly, without any warning, the door of the wife's room was\nopened, and in walked a beautifully dressed woman, with grey or powdered\nhair turned off her forehead and worn very high. Without appearing to\ntake the slightest notice of Mrs. Blank the intruder passed through the\nroom, opened the dressing-room door, went in and shut the door behind\nher. Petrified with astonishment, Mrs. Blank stood for a moment staring\nafter the apparition, then dashing into the dressing-room she exclaimed,\n\"Where did that lady go?\" (There was no other door except the one\ncommunicating with the bedroom.) The husband, who was calmly dressing,\nwas naturally somewhat surprised at the question; explanations followed;\nhe had seen nothing and thought his wife must have been dreaming. But\nover-flowing with wonder, Mrs. Blank went downstairs, and seeking her\nhostess confided to her the singular incident, adding that she supposed\nthe \"lady\" was a fellow-guest who had in some way mistaken her room; but\nwhere had she disappeared to when she entered the dressing-room? \"Hush,\"\nwas the reply. \"It was no living person you saw, but the _ghost_; only\ndon't breathe a word to any one else here. There is no harm in her; and\nshe has often been seen before by people staying in the house.\" And with\nthis casual explanation Mrs. Blank was fain to be content.\n\nA story very similar to the above is told by Mr. Henderson in\n\"Folk-lore of the Northern Counties\" about a house in Perthshire, where\nthe figure of a very beautiful woman was one evening seen on the\nstaircase by a visitor staying in the house. In this case the hostess\ninformed her friend that the apparition had frequently been seen before,\nbut always by strangers, never by any member of the family.\n\nThe following incident is said to have happened quite lately in another\nScotch country house. Two sisters, one quite a young girl, went to stay\nat this place, and were given rooms close to one another. One night the\nyounger sister suddenly woke up. The room was dimly lighted by a bright\nmoon, and there, close by the bed, the girl saw, apparently rising out\nof the floor, a human hand. Thinking she had nightmare she closed her\neyes and vainly tried to sleep, but feeling impelled, in spite of fear,\nto look again, there was the hand--nothing else--close by her bedside\nstill. This time she felt horribly frightened, and hurling herself out\nof bed, she rushed to her sister's room, which she insisted on sharing\nfor the rest of the night. In the morning she told the elder girl what\nshe had seen, declaring she could not pass another night in that room.\nHer sister scolded her a little for what she considered foolish\nimagination, and begged her to say nothing of the \"bad dream\" to their\nfriends, as people did not like it to be thought that there was anything\nghostly about their houses.\n\nLater in the day the son of the family was taking the elder sister over\nthe house, which was old and interesting. Presently he remarked, \"We\nhave a ghost here, too, you know.\" The visitor pricked up her ears, and\nasked what form the ghost was supposed to take. \"It is a hand,\" was the\nreply, \"nothing else.\" \"Then my sister saw it last night,\" exclaimed the\ngirl, whereupon she was much surprised to see her companion turn pale\nand seem agitated. But in reply to her questions he would say nothing\nfurther, leaving his listener wondering uncomfortably if the appearance\nof the spectral hand was a bad omen; and if so, whether it boded ill to\nthe owners of the house or to the individual who had had the\ndisagreeable experience of seeing it.\n\nBefore leaving Scotland we must mention an Aberdeenshire house,\ndescribed to us by a friend as inhabited by the ghost of an old lady,\nwho regularly appears in a certain room once a year. Evidently her\nunrest is caused by an uneasy conscience, if tradition be correct; which\nsays that she was a wicked old person who flourished in the early\nseventeenth century. Having a deadly feud with a neighbouring family,\nshe decoyed them with false promises and an invitation to a feast into\nthe tower of the house. Then she had the doors locked, and setting fire\nto the tower, she got rid of her enemies in one horrible holocaust.\n\nFrom Scotland to Northumberland is not a far cry, and on our way South\nyou must listen to an odd little story connected with a house called\nWickstead Priory in that county. The friend who told me was staying at\nWickstead when the incident happened. I will call her X.; and her room\nhappened to be on the opposite side of the corridor to a large bedroom\noccupied by a married sister of the hostess. One evening, while X. was\ndressing for dinner she heard some noise and commotion going on in this\nother room, and later in the evening, she asked its occupant what had\nbeen the matter. \"Oh,\" was the reply, \"I had such a fright! I am sure\nyou won't believe me, but as I sat doing my hair before the\nlooking-glass, a _horrid-looking little monk_ came and peered over my\nshoulder. I saw him plainly in the glass, but when I turned round, no\none was there!\"\n\nI have before remarked on the disagreeable habit so common amongst\nghosts of appearing by one's bedside at dead of night. In fact, a large\npercentage of the ghost stories one hears contain the words, \"He (or\nshe) looked round, and there was a figure standing by the bed,\" &c. &c.\nAnd a tale which I heard on excellent authority of a Staffordshire house\nconcerns a \"bedside\" spook of the most conventional pattern, which\nsucceeded in thoroughly astonishing, if not alarming, a Colonel and Mrs.\nWest, who were paying a visit to Morton Hall. The owner of the house was\na cousin of Colonel West's, whom he had not seen for a long time, and\nof whom he knew little, having been soldiering abroad for many years. On\nthe first night of their visit, towards the small hours, Mrs. West woke\nup quite suddenly, and although the room was dark, yet she could somehow\nperceive distinctly a figure advancing towards the end of the bed,\nseeming to emerge from the opposite wall. Very startled, Mrs. West woke\nher husband, who also saw the figure--by this time stationary at the\nfoot of the bed--and called out to it, \"Who are you, and what do you\nwant?\" But at the sound of the voice the figure retreated, and seemed to\nfade away. The rest of the night passed undisturbed.\n\nNext morning Colonel West said to one of the children of the house, \"A\nnice trick you played us last night.\" For after much discussion, he and\nhis wife had come to the conclusion that the only reasonable explanation\nof what they had seen was that they had been the victims of a clever\npractical joke. The child addressed looked puzzled, and when questioned\nsaid that nobody had played any tricks at all. Later on, their hostess\ncame to Mrs. West, and said she was extremely sorry to hear from her\nlittle girl that they had been disturbed the night before, adding that\nowing to the house being full the Wests had been given the _haunted\nroom_. For knowing they were complete strangers to Morton, and probably\nknew little of its traditions, it was thought very unlikely they would\nbe troubled by anything uncanny. They were then asked what they had\nseen, and Mrs. West described the mysterious \"figure,\" saying that it\nresembled a woman wrapped in flowing garments, and carrying a bundle\nunder her arm. \"That was the ghost,\" replied the cousin's wife. \"Years\nago a woman was murdered in that room, and ever since then she has\noccasionally appeared to people, dressed as you describe and carrying\nher head under her arm.\"\n\nWherein lies the decided element of creepiness contained in my next\nstory? Perhaps it may be that it deals with a haunting of a most unusual\nand remote character, having its origin in some unknown disturbance of\nthe very elements themselves. It relates to a very well-known English\nhouse called Ainsley Abbey, where not so very long ago there was a large\nparty staying for the local hunt ball; among the guests a certain Mrs.\nDevereux. Knowing that she would be very late returning from the ball,\nthis lady told her maid not to wait up for her, but to go to bed at her\nusual time. So what was Mrs. Devereux's surprise when she came back in\nthe early hours of next morning, to find that the maid had disobeyed her\ninjunctions, and was waiting in her room. When asked why she had not\ngone to bed, she told her mistress that she had done so but had been so\ndisturbed by the \"terrible storm\"--thunder and great gale--that she\ncould not rest and grew too frightened to stay in her room. She sought\nthe house-servants, but to her surprise they had noticed no storm, and\nlaughed at her when she said there was a high wind raging round the\nhouse. Finally she resolved to wait in her mistress's room, adding that\nshe was thankful the party had got back safely, as she had felt\nconcerned at Mrs. Devereux being out in such awful weather. As the night\nhad been perfectly calm and fine, Mrs. Devereux was much astonished at\nthis tale, but at last concluded (though she did not say so) that her\nmaid must really have been asleep and dreamed of the storm. But\nhappening to mention the matter as a joke to her host next day, she was\nsurprised to find it treated with the greatest interest, and to be told\nit was no case of a dream. That occasionally people who came to stay at\nAinsley _could_ hear sounds that they always described as a\nthunder-storm and hurricane of wind blowing round the house. In fact, it\nwas a species of haunting which had never been accounted for. Like an\necho of Dante's\n\n    \"Infernal hurricane that never rests,\n    Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine;\n    Whirling them round.\"\n\nNot long ago, I came across a lady who told me of some very interesting\nhappenings of a ghostly nature connected with a house in a suburb of one\nof the great University towns. This house was taken by a Mrs. Drew, in\norder that she might be near her son, who was an undergraduate of one of\nthe colleges. But he lived with his mother, who also took in three\nother undergraduates as paying guests. After a time Mrs. Drew discovered\nthat there was something rather unusual about this house. She heard\nnoises she could not account for, and frequently had the consciousness\nof an invisible presence in the room with her. But at last one day, she\nnot only _felt_ but _saw_ quite near her, an appearance, as of the head\nand shoulders of a very pretty, amiable-looking girl, the head draped in\na kind of veil. After this, she would sometimes become aware that the\nsame apparition was sitting beside her; on other occasions she would see\nit dimly flitting about the rooms; but in time she got so accustomed to\nits appearance that she took little notice of it at all.\n\nOnce, when her son went up to the North to play in a cricket match, Mrs.\nDrew felt rather worried about him, as he had not been well, and she was\nafraid he was not really fit to play. Especially during the night after\nthe match, she could not help lying awake and thinking about him.\nSuddenly she became conscious that the now familiar figure of the\napparition was standing at the foot of the bed, looking at her. And\nthen, for the first time, it spoke to Mrs. Drew, telling her to feel no\nalarm for her son's welfare, \"for,\" it said, \"I have been with him all\nday. He is quite well, and played very well in the match.\" Then it\ndisappeared.\n\nOn another occasion, young Drew and one of his friends were reading at\nnight in the study, when they were startled by the sound of a terrific\ncrash in the next room. They rushed in, expecting they knew not what,\nbut the room was empty, quiet and dark.\n\nOne summer Mrs. Drew tried to let the house for a while. A lady came to\nsee and appeared on the point of taking it; but while discussing the\nsubject with Mrs. Drew in the drawing-room, and making final\narrangements, she quite suddenly got up and went away, saying she would\nwrite. When her letter came, it merely said the house did not suit her;\nbut later, when pressed for an explanation of such a sudden change of\nmind, she admitted that while talking to Mrs. Drew in the drawing-room\nshe had observed a beautiful young girl come and seat herself on the\nsofa close by them. No one else seemed to see the girl or to be in the\nleast conscious of her presence; yet somehow her appearance produced\nsuch an uncanny feeling in the visitor's mind that she felt she could\nnot stay another moment in the room or in the house. And so she broke\noff the negotiation.\n\nAt last, her son's time at the University being finished, Mrs. Drew gave\nup the house, and was succeeded in it by some people who opened a shop.\nAnd while making the alterations necessary for the purpose, the\nworkpeople discovered hidden under a floor the skeleton of a young\nwoman! But who she was, and why her bones were there, no one had been\nable to find out at the time when I heard the story--about two years\nago--though imagination promptly offers us a choice of sinister theories\nto account for the buried skeleton and its restless _umbra_. \"Requiescat\nin pace\" for the future!\n\nWhy the foregoing tale should remind me of a ghost that was seen in a\nNorthamptonshire house, I do not know; but, in spite of the irrelevance,\nhere is the story. Some years ago, a large party was assembled there for\nshooting, and one of the guests was given a rather out-of-the-way room,\nwhich was usually allotted to a stray bachelor, when, as happened on\nthis occasion, the house was very full. However, it was a very\ncomfortable room, and the visitor slept there soundly enough on the\nfirst night, until at what seemed to be a very early hour, a knock on\nhis door woke him up. Mechanically saying \"Come in,\" he opened his eyes,\nand saw a little elderly man, dressed in rather tight-fitting,\npepper-and-salt clothes, such as grooms wear, who walked into the room\nwith an assured step, pulled up the blind, and went out again. Mr. Blank\nimagined that the man had come to call him, though wondering why he came\nso early and had brought no hot water; especially as a footman called\nhim later at the usual hour. When asked next morning if he had slept\nwell, he mentioned the fact of his being awakened so early, saying he\nsupposed that the man must have made some mistake. \"What was he like?\"\nasked the host, and when his friend described the man as elderly, and\nlooking like a groom, his friend replied, \"What you say is rather odd,\nbecause only a fortnight ago, a groom, who was an old family servant\nhere, died. Of late years he had done little work, but almost until the\nend, one of his duties, which he would never relinquish, was _to call\nany one who chanced to occupy that room_.\"\n\nMy next tale has always seemed to me one of the most interesting psychic\nexperiences that I have ever heard related.\n\nSome few years ago, a young officer, whom we will call Lestrange, went\nto stay at a country house in the Midlands. It may be said that he was a\ngood type of the average British subaltern, whose tastes, far from\ninclining towards abstract study or metaphysical speculation, lay\nchiefly in the direction of polo, hunting, and sport generally. In fact,\nthe last person in the world one would have said likely to \"see a\nghost.\" One afternoon during his visit, Lestrange borrowed a dog-cart\nfrom his friend, and set out to drive to the neighbouring town. About\nhalf-way there he saw walking along the road in front of him a very poor\nand ragged-looking man, who, as he passed him, looked so ill and\nmiserable that Lestrange, being a kind-hearted person, took pity on him\nand, pulling up, called out, \"Look here, if you are going to C----, get\nup behind me and I will give you a lift.\" The man said nothing but\nproceeded to climb up on the cart, and as he did so, Lestrange noticed\nthat he wore a rather peculiar handkerchief round his neck, of bright\nred, spotted with green. He took his seat and Lestrange drove on and\nreaching C---- stopped at the door of the principal hotel. When the\nostler came forward to take the horse, Lestrange, without looking round,\nsaid to him: \"Just give that man on the back seat a good hot meal and\nI'll pay. He looks as if he wanted it, poor chap.\" The ostler looked\npuzzled and said: \"Yes, sir; but what man do you mean?\"\n\nLestrange turned his head and saw that the back seat was empty, which\nrather astonished him and he exclaimed: \"Well! I hope he didn't fall\noff. But I never heard him get down. At all events, if he turns up here,\nfeed him. He is a ragged, miserable-looking fellow, and you will know\nhim by the handkerchief he had round his neck, bright red and green.\" As\nthese last words were uttered a waiter who had been standing in the\ndoorway and heard the conversation came forward and said to Lestrange,\n\"Would you mind stepping inside for a moment, sir?\"\n\nLestrange followed him, noticing that he looked very grave, and the\nwaiter stopped at a closed door, behind the bar, saying: \"I heard you\ndescribe that tramp you met, sir, and I want you to see what is in\nhere.\" He then led the way into a small bedroom, and there, lying on the\nbed, was the corpse of a man, ragged and poor, _wearing round his neck a\nred handkerchief spotted with green_. Lestrange made a startled\nexclamation. \"Why, that is the very man I took up on the road just now.\nHow did he get here?\"\n\nHe was then told that the body he saw had been found by the roadside at\nfour o'clock the preceding afternoon, and that it had been taken to the\nhotel to await the inquest. Comparisons showed that Lestrange had picked\nup his tramp at the spot where the body had been discovered on the\nprevious day; and the hour, four o'clock, was also found to tally\nexactly.\n\nNow was this, as the ancients would have told us, the _umbra_ of the\npoor tramp, loth to quit entirely a world of which it knew at least the\nworst ills, to \"fly to others that it knew not of\"? Or was it rather\nwhat Mr. C. W. Leadbeater has described in his book, \"The Other Side of\nDeath,\" as a _thought-form_, caused by the thoughts of the dead man\nreturning with honor to the scene of his lonely and miserable end, and\nthereby producing psychic vibrations strong enough to construct an\nactual representation of his physical body, visible to any \"sensitive\"\nwho happened that way? We must leave our readers to decide for\nthemselves what theory will best fit as an explanation of this strange\nand true story.\n\nAnd now for the curious experiences of a professor of a well-known\ntheological institution, which he related most unwillingly and under\ngreat pressure to a small gathering of friends, amongst whom a friend\nof mine was present, who afterwards, knowing my interest in ghostly\nlore, told me the stories.\n\nThis professor, whom we will call Mr. Bliss, was a graduate of one of\nthe newer Universities. Some years after he had taken his degree, he had\noccasion to return to his University, and resolved to put up at his\nformer lodgings, as he would have to make some little stay. So leaving\nhis luggage at the station, he walked to the house, but before going in,\nhe took a turn or two up and down the pavement to finish a cigarette he\nwas smoking. While he was doing this, he saw a man, whom he recognised\nat once as the son of the landlady, run up the steps and enter the\nhouse, shutting the door behind him. His cigarette finished, Bliss\nfollowed the man, and knocking at the door was warmly welcomed by his\nold landlady, who told him she would certainly take him in, adding, \"You\ncan have my son's room.\" \"But your son is at home,\" said Bliss. \"Oh no,\nhe is abroad,\" was the reply, and as Mrs. X. spoke, Bliss saw a shadow\ncome over her expression. \"But that is impossible. I have just seen your\nson go into this house,\" and he told the mother how he had been smoking,\nand had seen the man whom he recognised as her son enter the house a few\nmoments before himself. Nor could Mrs. X.'s continued assertions, that\nher son, far from being in the house was not even in England, shake the\nconviction of Bliss that he had seen the man in question only a few\nminutes before. However, seeing that the subject was distressing to Mrs.\nX. he said no more. When night came, the landlady told him that she had\ndecided to give him her own room, taking herself the one formerly used\nby her son. Bliss went to bed, and at first slept well, but very early\nnext morning he was roused by a sound as of some one creeping softly\ninto the room. He struck a light, and to his intense surprise saw Mrs.\nX.'s son walking stealthily across the room to a corner where there\nstood an old closed bureau. The man apparently took not the smallest\nnotice of Bliss, who, watching him, saw him take a key from his pocket,\nand unlocking the bureau, fumble in its recesses until he drew out what\nappeared to be a bag of money. This was too much for Bliss, who,\nconvinced that he was witnessing an act of robbery, whether by young X.\nor somebody cleverly impersonating him he had no time to consider,\njumped out of bed and rushed at the intruder, on whose shoulder he\nbrought his arm down with some violence. But imagine the horror of\nBliss, when instead of being checked by a human body, the blow\nencountered--nothing! And even as he stood there, the apparition--for\nsuch it surely was--vanished utterly.\n\nNext day Bliss felt impelled to tell Mrs. X. of his astonishing\nexperience, and (passing over the painful excitement and emotion aroused\nby his recital) he heard the following story, which seemed to afford a\npossible if somewhat far-fetched explanation of an extraordinary\nhappening. It appeared that young X. was far from being an exemplary\ncharacter, and that he ended his various escapades by robbing his\nmother. He had entered her room in the night and by means of a false key\nopened her bureau, where he knew she kept money, and removed all that\nwas there. After which he had left the country, and was living abroad,\nnever, of course, having been home since.\n\nSo much for one experience; the other is more dramatic, and happened on\nthe same occasion of Bliss's visit to his old University. One afternoon,\nhe went for a long walk into the country, and it was quite dark when he\nreturned homewards. As he proceeded along a deep lane, so overhung with\ntrees that the gloom on either hand seemed almost impenetrable, he\nbecame aware of a dim light approaching him, and presently he saw that\nit came from the head of a figure who was walking towards him and who,\nas it drew nearer, seemed to be dressed like a Sister of Mercy, in a\nblue dress and large white cap, while always the strange, pale light\nseemed to radiate from her head. She walked straight and swiftly towards\nhim, and Bliss saw that unless he moved they would collide; so, thinking\nthat the person did not see him in spite of the light she carried about\nher, he quickly stepped aside to let her pass. As he did so, he stumbled\nover what seemed to be a large bundle on the road, and, stooping down to\nsee what it was, he discovered that the bundle was really a man, lying\nhuddled up and inanimate, but whether drunk or otherwise unconscious it\nwas impossible for the moment to tell, for utter darkness had again\nfallen, the woman with the light having absolutely disappeared. But\nBliss could now hear the sound of wheels and a horse being driven very\nfast; indeed, had he not loudly shouted, he and the unconscious man must\nhave been run over. And what about this man, if he had not happened to\nfind him lying there? And again, how _would_ he have found him if the\nfigure with the light had not come by, and caused Bliss to step aside.\nSuch thoughts came to his mind, as he helped the driver to lift the man\ninto the trap, and gave directions for him to be taken to the nearest\nhospital; while further reflection during his walk home convinced him\nthat any ordinary explanation of such an incident was quite inadequate,\nand that perhaps it was just one of those \"things\" that, as Hamlet\nreminded his friend, are undreamed of \"in our philosophy.\"\n\nThis chapter shall conclude with a tale told me lately by a friend who\nhad herself heard it on excellent authority. It concerns a Mrs. Borrow\nwho, two years ago, happened to be staying at Fontainebleau. One evening\nshe thought she would go for a walk, and accordingly setting out, soon\nfound herself free of the town, and in a deep country lane. Suddenly, at\nsome distance ahead of her, but still quite near enough to see plainly,\nshe saw the oddest figure of a man jump down from the hedge into the\nroad. He wore a curious kind of cap, red, with a tassel hanging down,\nand his costume altogether appeared more like a fancy dress than the\ngarb of the present day. He stood in the middle of the road, and then\nMrs. Borrow noticed that a deer, which had wandered from the forest into\nthe lane, evidently saw the man too, for it stood quite still, gazing\nfixedly at him. Mrs. Borrow hurried on, wishing to get a closer look at\nsuch a strange person, but to her great bewilderment, as she drew near\nhe seemed to vanish away, causing her to wonder if she and the deer had\nboth been the victims of an optical delusion. At all events, she saw no\nmore of the mysterious figure that evening, though, as may be imagined,\nher mind was full of the occurrence, and as soon as she returned to\nFontainebleau she sought out some friends who were residents there, and\ndescribed what she had seen. They instantly exclaimed: \"Oh, you have\nseen 'le Grand Veneur.' How unlucky for you. He always presages\nmisfortune to those who meet him in the forest.\" They then explained\nthat \"le Grand Veneur\" was really a ghost, and told Mrs. Borrow the\nlegend relating to him.\n\nIt must be added that so far, happily, the omen has not worked in Mrs.\nBorrow's case, as no particular misfortune had befallen her when my\nfriend heard the story, only a few months ago. So perhaps the powers of\n\"le Grand Veneur\" for \"ill-wishing\" those who see him have lapsed with\ntime.\n\nMr. Henderson mentions this apparition in \"Folk-lore of the Northern\nCounties\": \"Near Fontainebleau, Hugh Capet is believed to ride....\" And\nagain: \"I have said that the Wild Huntsman rides in the woods of\nFontainebleau. He is known to have blown his horn loudly and rushed over\nthe palace with all his hounds, before the assassination of Henry the\nFourth.\" Henderson, it will be noted, describes the huntsman as mounted,\nwhile Mrs. Borrow's apparition was on foot; as, however, her description\nseems to have been immediately recognised as \"le Grand Veneur,\" a\nwell-known ghost, it is probable that Henderson refers to the same\ntradition.\n\nIn a note to his version of the German ballad of \"The Chase,\" Sir Walter\nScott relates the legend of the \"Wild J\u00e4ger,\" or Wild Huntsman of\nGermany, adding: \"The French had a similar tradition concerning an\naerial hunter who infested the forest of Fontainebleau.\" Also in\n\"Quentin Durward\" he mentions \"le Grand Veneur,\" to meet whom in the\nforest was a bad omen; and again in \"Woodstock\" he writes of a similar\napparition, said to haunt the woods of Woodstock: \"Anon it is a solitary\nhuntsman, who asks you if you can tell him which way the chase has gone.\nHe is always dressed in green, but the fashion of his clothes is some\nfive hundred years old.\"\n\nIn a former chapter I have mentioned the alleged appearances in quite\nmodern times of two phantom hunters in Wales. The fact seems to be that\nthe \"Wild Huntsman\" legend is one of great antiquity and wide\ndistribution, its details in different places being merely altered to\nsuit local circumstances.\n\nBut that is a fact that does not in the least detract from the interest\nof Mrs. Borrow's strange little adventure in the lane near\nFontainebleau.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nCORPSE-CANDLES AND THE TOILI\n\n    \"A vague presentiment of his pending doom\n    Like ghostly footsteps in a vacant room\n    Haunted him day and night.\"\n\n\nWhen St. David of blessed memory lay dying his soul was greatly troubled\nby the thought of his people, who would soon be bereft of his pious care\nand exhortations. He remembered the Celtic character, apt to be lifted\nto heights of enthusiastic piety by any passing influence of oratory,\nand, alas! prone to sink to depths of indifference, or even scepticism,\nwhen that influence was removed. So the Saint prayed very earnestly for\nhis flock that some special sign of divine assistance might be granted\nthem. Tradition says that his prayer was heard, and a promise given that\nhenceforth no one in the good Archbishop's diocese should die without\nreceiving previous intimation of his end, and so might be prepared. The\nwarning was to be a light proceeding from the person's dwelling to the\nplace where he should be buried, following exactly the road which the\nfuneral would afterwards take. This light, visible a few days before\ndeath, is the _canwyll corph_ (corpse-candle).\n\nSuch is the legend generally supposed to be the foundation of a very\nancient belief, though a less common version is given by Howells in his\n\"Cambrian Superstitions\" (1831), where he says: \"The reason of their\n(the candles) appearing is generally attributed to a Bishop of St.\nDavid's, a martyr, who in olden days, while burning, prayed that they\nmight be seen in Wales (some say in his diocese only) before a person's\ndeath, that they might testify that he had died a martyr....\" The Bishop\nalluded to here was Ferrars, who was burnt at Carmarthen under the\npersecutions in Queen Mary's reign.\n\nBut whatever the origin of the _canwyll_ belief, it was once almost\nuniversal in some parts of Wales, and even in these sceptical days one\nsometimes comes across it in out-of-the-way corners of the Principality.\n\nIn Brand's \"Antiquities\" we read: \"Corpse Candles, says Grose, are very\ncommon appearances in the counties of Cardigan, Carmarthen, and\nPembroke, and also in some other parts of Wales; they are called candles\nfrom their resemblance, not to the body of a candle, but the fire,\nbecause that fire, says the honest Welshman, Mr. Davies, in a letter to\nMr. Baxter, doth as much resemble material candle-light as eggs do eggs;\nsaving that in their journey these candles are sometimes visible and\nsometimes disappear, especially if any one comes near them or in the\nway to meet them. On these occasions they vanish, but presently reappear\nbehind the observer and _hold their Corpse_ (_sic_). If a little candle\nis seen, of a pale bluish colour, then follows the Corpse of some\nInfant, if a larger one, then the Corpse of some one come to age.... If\ntwo Candles come from different places and meet, two Corpses will do the\nsame, and if any of these Candles be seen to turn aside through some\nbypath leading to the church the following Corpses will be found to take\nexactly the same way. Sometimes these Candles point out the place where\npeople will sicken and die....\"\n\nThe \"honest Welshman\" above quoted by Grose was the Rev. J. Davies of\nGeneurglyn, and the whole of his letter, which Richard Baxter published\nin his \"World of Spirits\" (1656), is most interesting to read. He\ncontinues: \"Now let us fall to evidence. Being about the age of fifteen,\ndwelling at Llanylar, late at night, some neighbours saw one of these\ncandles hovering up and down along the river-bank, until they were weary\nof beholding it; at last they left it so, and went to bed. A few weeks\nafter came a proper damsel from Montgomeryshire to see her friends, who\ndwelt on the other side of the river Istwith, and thought to ford the\nriver at that very place where the light was seen, being dissuaded by\nsome lookers-on (some, it is most likely, of those who saw the light) to\nadventure on the water, which was high by reason of a flood; she walked\nup and down the river-bank, even where, and ever as the aforesaid candle\ndid, waiting for the falling of the water, which at last she took, but\ntoo soon for her, for she was drowned therein.... Some thirty or forty\nyears since, my wife's sister being nurse to Baronet Rudd's three eldest\nchildren, and (the Lady mistress being dead) the Lady-comptroller of the\nhouse going late into the chamber where the maid-servants lay, saw no\nless than five of these lights together. It happened a while after this,\nthat the chamber being newly plastered and a grate of coal-fire therein\nkindled to hasten the drying of the plaster, that five of the\nmaid-servants went to bed as they were wont, but as it fell out, too\nsoon, for in the morning they were all dead, being suffocated in their\nsleep by the steam of the newly tempered lime and coal. This was at\nLlangathen in Carmarthenshire.\"\n\nI have always been much interested in this story, as the house where the\naccident happened two hundred and fifty years ago is very well known to\nme in these days. And indeed the tradition of the five smothered maids\nis still extant; for the tale, substantially as related by Mr. Davies,\nwas told me only a few years ago by an old woman living in Llangathen\nvillage, who had been many years in service in the house referred to by\nBaxter's reverend correspondent, though the Rudd family has long\ndisappeared, and the place changed owners many times since. As to\n\"Llanylar\" on the river \"Istwith\" it is a village not so far from my own\nhome in Cardiganshire; and quite lately a clergyman, born and brought up\nin that district, informed me that when he was a boy--and he is not\nold--stories of \"corpse-candles\" abounded there, and belief in them was\nvery common.\n\nTo return to \"Cambrian Superstitions\" again, its author relates what he\nseems to think a well-authenticated instance of a _canwyll's_\nappearance, as follows. \"Some years ago (he was writing in 1831), when\nthe coach which runs from Llandilo to Carmarthen was passing by Golden\nGrove (the property of the noble Earl Cawdor), three corpse-candles were\nobserved on the surface of the water, gliding down the stream which runs\nnear the road; all the passengers beheld them, and it is related that a\nfew days after, some men were crossing the river near there in a\ncoracle, but one of them expressed his fear at venturing, as the river\nwas flooded, and remained behind; the other three possessing less\ndiscernment, ventured, and when about the middle of the river,\nlamentable to relate, their frail conveyance sank through the weight\nthat was in it, and they were drowned.\"\n\nWriting in 1888 of Pembrokeshire, Mr. Edward Laws, in \"Little England\nbeyond Wales,\" says: \"It would be by no means difficult to find a score\nof persons who are fully persuaded that they themselves have been\nfavoured with a vision of the mysterious lights,\" adding, \"St. Daniel's\ncemetery, Pembroke, is a likely place for 'fetch-candles.'\"\n\nAlthough the weird privilege was supposed to belong entirely to St.\nDavid's diocese, yet some writers mention the belief as well known in\nNorth Wales. George Borrow, in \"Wild Wales,\" describes in Chapter XI. a\nconversation he had on the subject with a woman who lived near\nLlangollen, and had herself seen a _canwyll corph_. And in our days, Sir\nJohn Rees writes in \"Celtic Folk-lore\": \"It is hard to guess why it was\nassumed that the _canwyll corph_ was unknown in other parts of Wales....\nI have myself heard of them being seen in Anglesey.\" But earlier authors\nnearly always assign South Wales as the real home of the tradition.\nMeyrick, in his \"History of Cardiganshire\" (1810), speaks of St. David\nobtaining the privilege for his diocese, adding: \"The _canwyll corph_ is\nbright or pale according to the age of the person, and if the candle is\nseen to turn out of the path that leads to the church, the corpse will\ndo so likewise.\"\n\nScientifically approached, the corpse-candle is merely the well-known\n_ignis fatuus_ (will-o'-the-wisp or marsh light) occasionally seen to\nquiver and flicker at night over the surface of bog and swamp. Shelley\nwrites:\n\n    \"As a fen-fire's beam\n    On a sluggish stream\n      Gleams dimly.\"\n\nOften appearing in the distance like a carried lantern, these lights\nhave been known to lure unwary travellers from a safe path to insecurity\nand danger. Scott's name for the will-o'-the-wisp is Friar Rush's\nlantern:\n\n    \"Better we had through mire and bush\n    Been lantern-led by Friar Rush.\"\n\nIn the same connection, Milton in \"L'Allegro\" also mentions the \"friar's\nlantern.\"\n\nBut though one may have an open mind on the subject of the _canwyll\ncorph_, yet it does not seem as if the _ignis fatuus_ explanation covers\nquite all the ground suggested in the various instances of the\n_canwyll's_ appearance described in the following notes.\n\nAll authorities agree that the most characteristic feature of the\ncorpse-candle's appearance is, that it invariably follows the exact line\nthat will be taken by the funeral procession. This is well illustrated\nby an instance that occurred some years ago at a house in Cardiganshire.\nInstead of going straight along the drive, the light was seen to flicker\ndown some steps and round the garden pond; and when the death occurred\nthe drive was partly broken up under repair, and the coffin had to be\ntaken the way indicated by the corpse-candle. At another place in the\nsame county, tradition says that before a death takes place there, a\ncorpse-light is always seen to emerge from the neighbouring churchyard,\nand pass quivering up the drive towards the house. Another story from\nCarmarthenshire relates how shortly before a death in the family owning\na certain house, the woman living at the lodge saw a pale light come\ndown the drive one evening. It pursued its way as far as the lodge,\nwhere it hovered a few moments, then through the gates, and out on the\nroad, where it stopped again for several minutes under some trees. On\nthe day of the funeral the hearse, for an unexpected reason, was pulled\nup for some time at the exact spot where the _canwyll_ had halted.\n\nThe following story, which was related by a lady of cultured mind and\nmuch common sense, has always seemed to me one of the most interesting\nof its kind that I have ever heard. Whether it was a case of _canwyll\ncorph_ or not must be left to my readers to determine, but it is\ncertainly hard to account for the incident in any ordinary way:\n\nMy friend, Miss Morris, lived when she was a young girl in Wales, and\nher father's house stood on a steep hill-side, with the village church\njust below, a short walk from the lodge gates. One Sunday evening, in\nwinter, Miss Morris, her sister, and two maids walked down to the church\nto attend the six o'clock service. As they came out from the drive on to\nthe road, they saw flickering down the hill in front of them, a pale\nbluish light, which, in the darkness, Miss Morris and her sister took to\nbe a lantern carried by some church-goer like themselves, although they\ncould see no figure of man or woman. The light stopped at the\nchurchyard gate, and turned in, but Miss Morris observed that the person\ncarrying it did not enter the church, but went on towards a grave with a\ntombstone. Now this grave happened to be the only one in the\nburying-ground, for the church had only lately been built, and the\nchurchyard but newly consecrated. Arrived at the solitary tombstone, the\nlight suddenly disappeared. The two girls went round to the same place,\nas their curiosity was roused by the light's disappearance, but there\nwas nobody by the grave. Rather puzzled, they went into the church,\nwhere they had to wait some time for the service to begin, as the Vicar\nwas very late. Afterwards he told Miss Morris that he had been detained\nat a cottage by a dying woman, who had begged him to stay with her till\nthe end. When they returned home, the sisters told their mother of the\nlight they had seen, and were promptly advised by her to speak to no one\nelse on the subject, and to dismiss it from their minds as soon as\npossible. However, next day, as Miss Morris was passing the churchyard\ngate, she saw a brother of the deceased woman standing there with the\nVicar, to whom he said: \"My sister wished to be buried by the side of\nher friend, Sarah Jones.\" And the man then walked through the\nchurchyard, _straight to the exact place by the tombstone_ where Miss\nMorris and her sister had seen the light disappear on the evening\nbefore.\n\nNot long ago I was talking about the _canwyll corph_ and kindred\nsubjects with the postmistress of a Cardiganshire village, who remarked\nthat she had only known one person who had ever seen a \"corpse-light.\"\nThis was a woman--now dead--called Mary Jones, and to use the words of\nthe postmistress \"a very religious and respectable person.\" At one time\nin her life she lived in a village called Pennant (its real name), a\nplace well known to me, where the church is rather a landmark, being set\non top of a hill. Mary Jones invariably and solemnly declared that\nwhenever a death occurred among her neighbours, she would always\npreviously see a corpse-candle wend its way up the hill from the village\nto the churchyard. And at the same place she once saw the Toili (a\nphantom funeral). This last experience was in broad daylight, and was\nshared with several other people who were haymaking at the time, and who\nall saw clearly the spectral procession appear along a road and\nmysteriously vanish when it reached a certain point. But we will speak\nof the Toili presently.\n\nAnother belief relating to the _canwyll_ was that it not only boded\nfuture troubles, but that it was positively dangerous for anybody who\nsaw one to get in its way. I had never heard locally of this\ndisagreeable attribute of the corpse-light until I talked to the\npostmistress already quoted. This woman said that long ago she and other\nchildren were always frightened from straying far from home by tales of\n\"Jacky Lantern,\" a mysterious light, which, encountered on the road,\nwould infallibly burn them up! George Borrow (\"Wild Wales,\" Chapter\nLXXXVIII.) mentions meeting with the same belief when talking to a\nshepherd who acted as his guide from the Devil's Bridge over Plinlimmon.\nBorrow said: \"They (corpse-candles) foreshadow deaths, don't they?\" To\nwhich the shepherd replied: \"They do, sir; but that's not all the harm\nthey do. They are very dangerous for anybody to meet with. If they come\nbump up against you when you are walking carelessly, its generally all\nover with you in this world.\" Then followed the story of how a man, well\nknown to the shepherd, had actually met his death in that weird manner.\nHowells also mentions the same idea in \"Cambrian Superstitions,\" where,\nwriting of corpse-lights, he says: \"When any one observes their\napproach, if they do not move aside they will be struck down by their\nforce, as I was informed by a person living, whose father coming in\ncontact with one was thrown off his horse.\"\n\nThis certainly adds to the fear inspired by the sight of the _canwyll_,\nbut the more general belief seems to have been that these lights were\nquite harmless in themselves, and when seen were regarded with awe only\nas sure harbingers of future woe.\n\nIf we may believe the Rev. Mr. Davies, whose letter, published in\nBaxter's \"World of Spirits,\" has been already quoted, there is yet\nanother kind of fire apparition peculiar to Wales, called the Tanwe, or\nTanwed. \"This appeareth to our seeming, in the lower region of the air,\nstraight and long ... but far more slowly than falling stars. It\nlighteneth all the air and ground where it passeth, lasteth three or\nfour miles or more for ought is known, and when it falls to the ground\nit sparkleth and lighteth all about. These commonly announce the\ndeath ... of freeholders, by falling on their lands, and you shall\nscarcely bury any such with us, be he but a lord of a house and garden,\nbut you shall find some one at his burial that hath seen this fire fall\non some part of his lands.\" Sometimes these appearances have been seen\nby the persons whose deaths they foretold, two instances of which Mr.\nDavies records as having happened in his own family.\n\nWhen reading the above description of the \"Tanwe\"--of which I had\npreviously never heard--there came to my mind a story told me by an old\nWelsh lady of an extraordinary phenomenon, which she solemnly declared\nhad preceded the death of her brother-in-law--a gentleman well known and\nrespected in Cardiganshire. Shortly before his last and fatal illness\nhis wife, returning home one evening, was amazed to see the most curious\nlights, apparently falling from the sky immediately over their house.\nFrom the account given by my friend, her sister seems to have at once\nrecognised the supernatural character and sinister import of the\nmysterious lights; their appearance being recalled with melancholy\ninterest by her and her sisters after the sad event which so soon\nfollowed. Can this incident be explained as a survival of the old\n\"Tanwe\" idea, of which our authority, the then Vicar of Geneurglyn,\nwrote in the seventeenth century? It seems as if it might be so, and\nthat belief in the Tanwe was probably an old _local_ superstition,\npeculiar to that district; considering the fact that the parish of which\nMr. Davies was Vicar is in the same county and not more than a dozen\nmiles from the house where the fiery death-signals are supposed to have\nbeen seen twelve or fifteen years ago. For so far I have neither heard\nnor read of the Tanwe being known in any other part of Wales.\n\nBelief in the Toili used to be very widely spread in Cardiganshire,\nespecially, it is said, in the northern part of the county. Meyrick, the\nhistorian of Cardiganshire, tells us: \"The Toili ... is a phantasmagoric\nrepresentation of a funeral, and the peasants affirm that when they meet\nwith this, unless they move out of the road, they must inevitably be\nknocked down by the pressure of the crowd. They add that they know the\npersons whose spirits they behold, and hear them distinctly singing\nhymns.\" But the Toili was not always visible; sometimes the presence of\nthe ghostly _cort\u00e8ge_ would be known merely by the sudden feeling of\nencountering a crowd of people and hearing a dim wailing like the sound\nof a distant funeral dirge.\n\nThose of us who have lived in the country, and know how characteristic\nof a Welsh burial is this singing of funeral hymns--one or two of which\nare of a poignant sadness impossible to describe--can imagine how\nsignificant and suggestive such a ghostly sound would be to peasant\nears. An old woman, whom I knew well years ago, used always to declare\nthat she heard this hymn singing before the death of any friend or\nneighbour. She would invariably say, if one commented on any death that\noccurred: \"Yes, indeed, but I knew some one was going; I heard the Toili\nlast week.\"\n\nI have heard of two cases of people being involved in invisible funeral\nprocessions, which must truly be a most disagreeable experience. One\nstory relates to a Mrs. D----, who lived in the parish of Llandewi\nBrefi, in Cardiganshire. Her husband was ill, and one day as she was\ngoing upstairs to his room, she had a feeling as of being in a vision,\nthough she could _see_ nothing. But the staircase seemed suddenly\ncrowded with people, and by their shuffling, irregular footsteps, low\nexclamations, and heavy breathings she knew they were carrying a heavy\nburden downstairs. So realistic was the impression, that when she had\nstruggled to the top of the stairs she felt actually faint and weak\nfrom the pressure of the crowd. A few days later her husband died, and\non the day of the funeral, when the house was full of people, and the\ncoffin carried with difficulty down the narrow stairs, she realised that\nher curious experience had been a warning of sorrow to come.\n\nThe other instance was told me by the Rev. G. Eyre Evans of Aberystwith\n(who kindly allows his real name to be given), a minister and writer on\narch\u00e6ological subjects of considerable local fame. In his own words: \"As\nto the Toili, well, if ever a man met one and got mixed in it, I\ncertainly did when crossing Trychrug[7] one night. I seemed to feel the\nbrush of people, to buffet against them, and to be in the way; perhaps\nthe feeling lasted a couple of minutes. It was an eerie, weird feeling,\nquite inexplicable to me, but there was the experience, say what you\nwill.\"\n\n[Footnote 7: A high hill in Cardiganshire.]\n\nQuite lately a friend writes from South Cardiganshire telling me of \"a\nghostly hearse and followers, seen recently by a neighbour, the man\nrecognising the driver of the hearse and the chief mourner ... and\nlittle thinking it was a ghostly procession he was looking at, he\nwhipped up his horse to get closer.... The animal reared and trembled,\nrefusing to go nearer or move even in the direction taken by the hearse.\nTerror then also seized the man, and he turned and fled the longest way\nhome to avoid the ghostly burial-ground.\"\n\nAnother story of the Toili comes from St. David's, and this we will also\ngive in the words of the correspondent who, knowing my weakness for\n\"ghosteses,\" was kind enough to send it.\n\n\"An old lady, one Miss Black, who is still living, resided some time ago\nin the house formerly belonging to the Archdeacon of St. David's, with\none servant-maid, whom on a certain evening she sent on an errand,\ntelling her to return at once. This she did not do, and in consequence\nwas found fault with. The girl stated, in explanation, that she had been\ngreatly frightened by coming across a phantom funeral descending the\nsteps below the entrance gateway towers (of the Cathedral) and that it\nturned to the right in the direction of the Lady Chapel. The old lady\nwas incredulous, and said, moreover, that funerals never entered the\nCathedral yard (this was, of course, before the yard was closed for\nburials) that way, which was the fact; they used to pass down the road\nrunning parallel with the yard, and enter by the big gate below the\nDeanery.\n\n\"But actually not long after a real funeral did come by the way the girl\nsaid, and went in the direction she described; the road referred to\nbeing for the time impassable, having been dug across for the laying of\nsome pipes.\"\n\nThe next very good example of this strange second sight also comes from\nSt. David's, and it is through the courtesy of the Editor of the\n_Western Mail_ that I am able to relate it here: \"The following anecdote\nwas related by the late Mr. Pavin Phillips, the Haverfordwest antiquary,\nof a friend of his, a clergyman resident at St. David's. One of his\nparishioners was notorious as a seer of phantom funerals. When the\nclergyman used to go out to his Sunday duties, the old woman would\nfrequently accost him with, 'Ay, ay, Mr. ---- _fach_,[8] you'll be here\nof a weekday soon, for I saw a funeral last night.'\n\n[Footnote 8: _Fach_, a mild term of endearment in Welsh.]\n\n\"On one occasion he asked her, 'Well, Molly, have you seen a funeral\nlately?' 'Ay, ay, Mr. ---- _fach_,' was the reply; 'I saw one a night or\ntwo ago, and I saw you as plainly as I see you now, but you did what I\nnever saw you do before.' 'What was that?' 'Why,' replied the old woman,\n'as you came out of the church to meet the funeral, you stooped down and\nappeared to pick something off the ground.' 'Well,' thought the\nclergyman to himself, 'I'll try, Molly, if I can't make a liar of you\nfor once.' Some time afterwards the good man was summoned to a funeral\non horseback. Dismounting he donned his surplice, and moved forward to\nmeet the procession. The surplice became entangled in his spur, and as\nhe stooped to disengage it he suddenly thought of the old woman and her\nvision. Molly was right, after all.\"\n\nOur next story, recounting a most curious incident which happened a\ncomparatively short time ago in my own neighbourhood, certainly sounds\nincredible. Yet I have reason to believe in the truthfulness of the\nclergyman whose experience is narrated, and should judge him incapable\nof even wishing to invent any such extraordinary adventure as befell him\none night only a few years ago.\n\nMr. Harris is the Vicar of Llangaredig (which I substitute for the real\nname), a pretty country church with a comfortable vicarage just across\nthe road from the churchyard. At the time of our story the Vicar's pony\nwas sick, and feeling very anxious about the animal, he determined to\nsit up one night, in order to see how it got on. About midnight he\nthought he would go out and have a look at the pony, which was in a\nstable exactly opposite the churchyard, with the road between. As the\nVicar emerged from the stable into the road he was surprised to hear the\nsound as of many footsteps, while he immediately had a queer feeling of\npeople pressing round him. In a minute or two he heard wheels as of\ntraps and carriages driving up to the churchyard gate and stopping\nthere, and especially the sound of a heavy vehicle like a hearse. Then,\nafter a pause, came the unmistakable, hollow sound of the hearse door,\nas it was slammed to on an empty interior.\n\nThen followed the heavy tread of men, bearing a burden into the church.\nBut all this time Mr. Harris _saw_ nothing. Rooted to the spot with\namazement, he waited a while at the stable-door till the night's\nstillness was again broken by the sound of many people coming out of\nchurch. Past him they brushed invisibly, then came the roll and rattle\nof wheels, as traps and gigs drove away. Then as the crowd seemed slowly\nto move off, the Vicar _distinctly heard talking_, and though he could\nnot distinguish the words spoken, yet he plainly recognised the voices\nof two or three of his parishioners. When all at last was still, Mr.\nHarris returned to the house, much mystified by his inexplicable\nexperience, which he was presently forced to regard as a prophecy. For\nnext day came a telegram, informing him that a relation _of the people\nwhose voices he had recognised_ had died, and requesting him to arrange\nfor the burial of the deceased in Llangaredig churchyard.\n\nMuch resembling these accounts of the Toili in Wales is the experience\nof certain persons possessing second sight, of whom Martin writes, in\nhis \"Description of the Western Islands of Scotland\": \"Some find\nthemselves as it were in a crowd of people, having a Corpse which they\ncarry along with them, and after such Visions the Seers come in sweating\nand describe the People that appeared; if there be any of their\nAcquaintances among them, they give an account of their Names, also of\nthe Bearers, but they know nothing concerning the Corpse.\"\n\nSo that in ancient times belief in the Toili may have been common to\nseveral of the Celtic tribes, and its origin is possibly of great\nantiquity. Corpse-candles, too, seem to have been known in Scotland,\njudging by Scott's allusion, in his ballad of \"Glenfinlas\"--\n\n    \"I see the death-damps chill thy brow,\n    I hear thy warning spirit cry;\n    The corpse-lights dance--they're gone, and now ...\n    No more is given to gifted eye.\"\n\n--though the \"lights\" here mentioned more probably refer to the vivid\nblue flames which seers declared to be visible hovering over a dying\nperson. Such a \"superstition\" is possibly supposed to be extinct; yet\nthis phenomenon has been witnessed by a friend of mine (need I say of\nCeltic race?) who described the tiny flames as \"dancing,\" using exactly\nthe same word as Sir Walter Scott does.[9] It seemed impossible to\ndisbelieve my friend's statement, which was made with the utmost\nsolemnity and carried conviction at the moment; yet what can we think as\nto the absolute truth of it and the many alleged appearances of the\nCanwyll Corph and the Toili? It is difficult indeed to say. No doubt\nlarge \"grains of salt\" must be taken with some of the stories, while on\nthe other hand one cannot entirely discredit the testimony of sane and\nsober individuals, such as Mr. Harris, or Mary Jones, the \"very\nrespectable and religious\" friend of the postmistress. Personally I have\nno wish to be too sceptical; partly on the principle that all these\nancient beliefs and legends help to add interest and lend a glamour to a\nworld ever becoming more matter-of-fact and material. And also to quote\nthe words of the great French scientist M. Camille Flammarion, because\n\"Ce que nous pouvons penser ... c'est que tout en faisant la part des\nsuperstitions, des erreurs, des illusions, des farces, des malices, des\nmensonges, des fourberies, il reste des faits psychiques v\u00e9ritables,\ndigne de l'attention des chercheurs.\"\n\n[Footnote 9: In \"Folk-lore of the Northern Counties\" Mr. Henderson says:\n\"They believe in the county of Sussex that the death of a sick person is\nshown by the prognostic of 'shell-fire.' This is a sort of lambent\nflame, which seems to rise from the bodies of those who are ill and\nenvelop the bed.\"]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nCORPSE-CANDLES AND THE TOILI[10] (_continued_)\n\n    \"O that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,\n    An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt.\"\n\n[Footnote 10: I am indebted to Mr. Owen M. Edwards, the Editor of\n_Cymru_, for his kind permission to publish the translations included in\nthis and Chapter VII.]\n\n\nThe stories and experiences contained in this chapter consist of\nmaterial relating to the \"Canwyll Corph,\" the \"Toili,\" and other\nbeliefs, which were collected by the late Lledrod Davies, an inhabitant\nof the village of Swyddffynon, near Ystrad Meurig, in Cardiganshire.\n\nHe was a young man of delicate constitution, but gifted with that\nintelligence and zest for knowledge which distinguish so many of our\nWelsh people, and which, when joined to ambition and steadiness of\ncharacter, are apt to carry them far in worldly progress. And this love\nof knowledge, and a native shrewdness untrammelled by any smattering of\nmodern education, combined to form many a delightful character amongst\nour old-fashioned peasants, a few of whom still survive, though the type\nis fast dying out. If we may believe the descriptions in \"Wild Wales,\"\nGeorge Borrow met many such people in his travels through the\nPrincipality, but that was nearly sixty years ago, before the flower of\nour rural population had begun to migrate to \"the Works\"--as they call\nthe mines and iron foundries of Glamorganshire.\n\nHowever, we are digressing from Lledrod Davies, who it seems had\nintended to enter the Church, but died before he could be ordained.\nApparently he was always much interested in the legendary lore and\nsuperstitions of his native county, and for a long time had made a point\nof collecting all the curious tales and experiences he could glean on\nthese subjects; and as the district to which he belonged happens to be\nremarkable for all kinds of uncanny occurrences in the way of\n\"corpse-candles,\" fairy legends and the like, he had no doubt a wide\nfield for research. His object in collecting all this information seems\nto have been exactly the same as my own in a similar pursuit; namely,\nthat he thought it too quaint and interesting to be allowed to die with\nthe old generation, to whom a firm belief in these occult happenings was\na matter of course. Also, in the spirit of the true folklorist, he had\nintended if he had lived to endeavour to trace a connection between\nthese old Welsh beliefs and the folk-legends of other countries. But he\ndied before he could accomplish this object, and after his death (which\ntook place in 1890, at the age of thirty-three) his MSS. relating to\nthese subjects were collected by friends, and published locally in a\nlittle pamphlet entitled \"Ystraeon y Gwyll\"--in English, \"Stories of the\nDark.\" This pamphlet, now out of print, was lent to me a short time ago,\nand partly because its contents concerned my own county and several\ndistricts that I know, it interested me so much that I asked and\nobtained permission to translate and republish the tales contained\ntherein. As folk-lore these are really valuable, for they were noted\ndown exactly as Mr. Davies heard them from the lips of the country\npeople, free from all self-consciousness, and with no idea that they\nwere relating anything but what were fairly common experiences amongst\nthemselves and their friends.\n\nIn my translation I have occasionally made use of abbreviation, and I\nhave sometimes slightly paraphrased the original text, here and there\nrather weighted by repetition, a trait which, however quaint and\ncharacteristic in the vernacular, is apt to sound tedious in our more\nprecise and reserved English language. But with these small limitations,\nI have kept as nearly as possible to Mr. Davies' narrative, which, he\ntells us, he wrote down as well as he could in the words used by his\ninformants. I will pass over his general description of\n\"corpse-candles,\" because most of it would only be a recapitulation of\nwhat I have already told in the last chapter. But he mentions an\ninteresting item connected with the superstition of which I had never\nheard before; to the effect that people who saw the candles were able\nto judge how soon the death which they prognosticated would occur. If\nthe light were seen in the evening, death would follow quickly; if in\nthe depths of night, the fatal event would be delayed a while. And it is\nsaid that there was scarcely ever a mistake made in this calculation of\ntime.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI will now proceed in Mr. Davies' words, heading each incident with the\ntitle given it in the collection, and the first is called\n\n\nTHE OLD WOMAN WHO SAW HER OWN CORPSE-LIGHT\n\nIn the quiet village of S---- there dwelt an old woman, poor, of\nmiserable appearance and very ragged in clothing.\n\nThe only light that entered her cottage came through the door; in a\nword, the whole business of the house took place at the door. Even the\nsmoke generally escaped by it, although it is true there was a chimney.\nIn such a place had the old woman chosen to pass the rest of her life.\nShe spent many of the long summer days on her door-step, knitting in\nhand, exchanging the gossip of the season with her friends; while in\nwinter she would be found sitting by the hearth, near a wretched heap of\nashes or a bit of turf fire.\n\nOne very cold winter evening, as she sat in her accustomed place,\nknitting her stocking, and humming an old hymn-tune or ballad, she saw\nsomething like a spark fall from her bosom into the ashes of the fire\nbefore her, where it glittered very brightly. Thinking to find out what\nthe spark was, she seized the tongs, and searched about with them in the\nashes. She drew the tongs backwards and forwards through the ashes, and\nwhile so doing, she perceived the spark jump up again from the hearth,\nand go out through the door, and she herself got up and went to the door\nto see what direction it took. She looked out, and there before her was\nthe little spark become a great light; so bright that it lit the whole\nplace. She took courage to look well at it, she said, in order to make\nsure what it was. She saw it go out of the house rather slowly, onward\nalong the road towards the burial-ground, to which it was probable that\nin the course of nature she would ere long be carried. Then, overcome by\nfear, she went back into the house, and afterwards fell very ill,\nbecause she felt quite sure that it was her own corpse-light she had\nseen, and no other. She related what had happened to her friends, and in\ntruth it was not long before her body followed its light to the\nburial-ground, there to be reunited. This old woman was noted for seeing\nand hearing spirits, corpse-candles, and the Toili. Whenever she said to\nher friends, \"There will soon be a burial at such and such a house,\"\nthey were quite certain the prediction would come to pass.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next story tells of possible danger connected with seeing a\ncorpse-light.\n\n\nTHE OLD WOMAN WHO WAS BLINDED FOR A MONTH BY A CORPSE-LIGHT\n\nThis time it was one of the most wonderful things I have heard in\nconnection with a corpse-light. An old woman, considered one of the best\nnurses in the country, was made blind by the light. She was always\nremarkably fortunate in her cases, and chiefly for the reason that she\nwas a seventh daughter. Because it is considered very lucky to have as\nyour doctor or nurse a seventh son or daughter. So because she was\nlucky, she was universally in request by all the good-wives far and\nnear.\n\nOn a certain night the farmer's wife at G---- was taken ill, and Elli\nthe nurse must be sent for, and they despatched the servant-man at once\nto fetch her. She lived not far from G----, but the road was very rough.\nThe servant mounted a horse and away he rode with much diligence. And\nvery quickly he reached the nurse's dwelling. He told his errand, and it\nwas not long before both set out on the way back. It was a beautiful\nstarlight night, but there was no moon at that season. The old woman\nwent on horseback, and the servant behind her. They were going along as\nfast as they could, when the woman asked the man, \"Dost thou see a\nlight, Tom?\"\n\n\"I don't see one; where do you see it?\"\n\n\"I tell thee it is coming along the road, down from Bont Bren Garreg.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see it now,\" said Tom.\n\nThe old woman knew it at once for a corpse-light. They went on talking\nabout the light, and Tom said in his opinion it was perhaps the light\nfrom that house or the other. Now there was a cross-road[11] on the road\nalong which the light was coming. On they went until they came to the\nmain road, in which place there was a turn, and as they approached the\nturn, Tom the servant said, \"Well, if there was no light before,\ngood-wife, here is one now.\" And there it was in their midst, on the\nroad and bushes, every corner of the compass was illuminated. They had\nnow stopped at the house. The old woman went in and fell fainting, and\nwhen she came to herself, she was quite blind, and could see nothing.\nThey put her to bed and when the morrow brought daylight, she went home.\nAnd a month passed before she saw again as usual. After the old nurse\nwent home the servant had to go out again to fetch the mistress's\nmother. Now he was obliged to go along the road where the light had\nbeen, and past the churchyard. Away he went and very quickly came in\nsight of the burial-ground, where, to his fright and agitation, he saw\nthe light again! For as he came opposite the graveyard, he plainly saw\nthe light inside, and carefully noticed the exact spot at which it\nlingered.\n\n[Footnote 11: In Welsh folk-lore cross-roads always figure as likely\nspots for uncanny happenings.]\n\nThe old woman declared that some one would most surely soon be brought\nalong that road to be buried, which came to pass very quickly after the\nlight's appearance, this showing that it was indeed a corpse-candle. She\nalso told Tom where the grave of this person would be in the churchyard,\nwhich he remembered, and found to be at the exact spot she described.\nAlthough this old woman in her day had seen scores of corpse-candles\nafter nightfall, yet this was the most wonderful she ever saw, because\nof its direct connection with what followed. For its effect could be\nseen, and Tom the servant, who was an eye-witness of it all, bore\ntestimony of the circumstances from the beginning to the end.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe two following incidents show how the identity of the doomed\nindividual was known.\n\n\nHOW TO KNOW WHOSE LIGHT IT WAS\n\nIn old times I have heard numbers of elderly people assert that they\ncould tell one whose was the \"light\" passing by, and could relate how\nthis was possible; and with my own ears I have heard one man say how his\nfear of the thing decreased as he came to know its mystery. One way was\nto mind and be near running water, or any pond that happened to be\nconveniently near the road along which the light was coming.\n\nAs soon as the light was to be seen approaching, one should stop near\nthe water or the running brook that the candle had to cross, and therein\nwould be seen a reflection of the person whose light it was. Apparently\nthe illumination of the light showed it in the water. There was always a\nmysterious light on the breast of the doomed individual. One man told me\nhow he had seen the corpse-light after hearing a sound like a great\nreport, whereupon running to some water he found out the person who was\nto be buried. Though he had seen other corpse-lights from time to time,\nyet he had never happened to be near water until a certain night. He had\nbeen very late, he said, at the smithy, having a ploughshare sharpened,\nand had a middling long way to return home from the forge. As he was\ngoing along the road, he saw a light in the far distance, coming towards\nhim. He did not suspect any harm at the moment, and hastened along,\nkeeping his eye on the light, until he got to the bottom of a slope, up\nwhich he had to go. He had a big old cape over him, and for convenience,\nhe folded the skirts of it round his middle. As he straightened himself\nafter doing this, he perceived the light just at his side, and\nrealising that it was a corpse-candle, he determined to see whether the\nsaying was false or true that one could see whose light it was. Now\nthere happened to be a little brook crossing the road at that place. As\nthe light went by he looked carefully into the water, and saw therein a\nwoman he knew very well. He went home much frightened. A little time\nafter, that woman was stricken with illness, and when she subsequently\ndied it happened that her body was carried along that very road for\nburial. Afterwards he saw a man's light, and that time again it was near\nwater. He resolved to try and know whose it was. He saw the light\nreflected in the water, and knew the person at once as the gamekeeper in\nthat neighbourhood. Though the keeper was in good health at the time,\nyet very soon afterwards he fell ill and died, and his funeral too\nfollowed the course the \"candle\" had taken.\n\n\nTHE SMITH OF LLANFIHANGEL AND THE CORPSE-LIGHT\n\nThere was yet another way of knowing whose corpse-candle was seen. This\nway of finding out required more nerve than the other, for the reason\nthat one must go to the churchyard, through the graves, and inside the\nchurch door, and there wait until the corpse-candle came in. And there,\nas if he were going in his body to church, would be seen the doomed\nperson. This required great determination and bravery as may easily be\nseen, and for this reason there were but few found to do such a thing.\nAs a rule it was better for the children of men to have but a\nhalf-knowledge about the corpse-candle than to dare this thing, as few\nknew whether they could bear such a sight. But according to universal\nrule, \"Every country nourishes brave men,\" and so it was in quiet\nLlanfihangel. A blacksmith of unusual stature and strength lived there,\nand his bravery and prowess had become a proverb throughout the country,\nand of his daring many things were spoken by the fireside. This smith\ntook it into his head to go to the church porch every time a\ncorpse-light was seen going towards the burial-ground. Through the\nadvantage given him by his daring and courage, he was thus able to say\nbeforehand who would be buried next, which appeared amazing to the\npeople, because he invariably foretold the truth. At last was discovered\nwhat had been a mystery to the neighbours, and they knew that he was in\nthe habit of going to the porch every time the corpse-light was seen,\nand that he there found out whose light it was.\n\nOn a certain night, as there were, according to custom, many men and\nboys in the smithy, their conversation turned to corpse-candles, and\nfrom talking to disputing hotly whether it was possible to know\nbeforehand whose light it was. At last they asked the smith for his\nopinion on the point, asking him if it was true that he himself had\nacquired the knowledge, to which he replied that it was perfectly true.\nJust then a neighbour entered breathless and perspiring, having had a\ngreat fright. When he recovered himself a little, he said he had seen a\ncorpse-candle making towards the churchyard, and if they went out they\ncould all see it. Out they all went, and there they saw the light\napproaching in the direction of the burial-ground. \"Now then,\" said they\nto the smith, \"go you to the porch this evening.\" He answered that he\nwas quite at leisure and ready to go, and proud to be of use. As the\nblacksmith's house and shop were at the side of the churchyard, he had\nbut a few steps to take before finding himself amongst the quiet\ninhabitants of the churchyard; so leaving his work as it was, away he\nwent without any hesitation to the church porch, so that he might be\nthere ready before the light came. He was seen to enter the church, and\nvery soon the corpse-candle was seen coming along the path, and then it,\ntoo, went into the porch.\n\nAfter a little while the smith returned, looking most unusually upset\nand frightened. When he was more collected, he related to the gathering\nwhat had happened. He said he had gone to the church porch, and after a\nshort wait, he saw the corpse-candle coming through the churchyard and\nthen to the church. There, standing as usual in the porch, was to be\nseen the person who would be buried. As the light shone upon him, the\nsmith recognised him as the Nanteos keeper. But as the corpse passed him\nby to enter the church, it turned towards him and exposed its grinning\nteeth in the most horrible and ghastly manner. He felt so alarmed that\nhe was near to falling down dead, and indeed would so have fallen if he\nhad not been a giant for strength. He said it was the last time he\nshould go and see the corpse-light, to know who was going to die.\n\nSome little time after this, the keeper was stricken by death in some\nform or other, and his body was brought to Llanfihangel to be buried, as\nthe old smith had truly said. So the neighbours were assured that it was\npossible to identify the person whose light was seen, but that it was a\ngreat risk to life to seek to find out.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next story gives a particularly unpleasant experience.\n\n\nFOLLOWING HIS OWN CANDLE\n\nIt happened once that a young man of the neighbourhood of Ll----i went\nto visit a friend of his in the neighbouring district. After passing an\namusing day, he had a mind to return, and of course his friend must go\nwith him, to \"send\" his crony home.[12] As they walked along talking of\neach other's affairs, they saw far off in front of them, a light. And\none said to the other about it: \"I tell you, that is a corpse-light,\nlet's follow it and see whose light it is. Because they say you can see\nthat, if you mind to get to the churchyard gate before the light goes\nthrough.\"\n\n[Footnote 12: To \"send\" any one means to go with him part of the way\nback--a Welsh idiom.]\n\nSo away they went, and it was not long before they got to within\nmeasurable distance of the light. But as they followed, a great fear\nfell on the visitor, and he told his friend he could not go a step\nfarther in pursuit. The other laughed in his face; and so they\nseparated. The friend went home, and left the man he had been visiting\nto follow the spirit of the light. He went on till he came to the\nchurchyard entrance. There he plainly saw whose light it was. He went\nhome dreadfully frightened, and took to his bed, from which he never\nrose again. He confessed to his family that he had seen _his own light_\nat the churchyard gate. But he never said a word as to its appearance,\nthough it was supposed that the Thing had given him a ghastly look and\nnothing more. And very soon his funeral took place in the very\nchurchyard where he had seen the light.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMr. Davies now goes on to relate some\n\n\nSTORIES OF THE TOILI\n\nBefore passing on to stories of the Toili, a word of explanation\nregarding them may not be out of place, in case it happens that these\nlines travel to a region where there is no Toili, or fall into the hands\nof those not privileged to see it. The Toili was a spirit burial or\nfuneral. It was also an apparition or \"double\"; and very often in days\ngone by one heard that So-and-so had seen his own apparition. In some\nparts the Cyheuraeth[13] was seen. The people of Glamorganshire always\nsaw the Cyheuraeth; and the folks of Teify-side used to see, and still\ndo see, the Toili. All the movement and action of a real funeral were to\nbe perceived in the Toili. In this way the whole business of the real\nfuneral could be known beforehand by the person who happened to witness\nthe spectral one, and a few of his friends to whom he would speak about\nit. There was the crowd collected round a certain house, then came the\ncorpse carried out to the bier or hearse, the reading, the prayers, the\nsinging, and if any particularly penetrating voice were heard at the\nfuneral in the crying of the deceased's relatives, that was sure to have\nbeen noticed beforehand in the Toili. In this way it came to be known\nvery often which of a family was to go. In the movement of the\nprocession the sound of the coach-wheels was loudly heard. And on it\nwent, just like the real funeral, to the churchyard; there again it\ncould be observed where the real body should be buried. The voice of the\nminister was clearly to be heard going through the burial service. As\nwas the Toili, so was the funeral. But we have never heard of the church\nbell tolling for the Toili; that is the one difference between the\nvision and the reality.\n\n[Footnote 13: A horrible spectre, supposed to foretell death.]\n\nThey were able to predict the date of the burial from the time of night\nwhen the Toili appeared. If it were seen at the beginning of the night,\nthe funeral would be soon; if very late at night, it would not happen\nquickly. Every one had his Toili, but it could not always be seen, and\nnot by everybody. Those people born on Sunday could not see it, nor any\nother kind of spirit either.\n\nAs a rule we readily observed that whenever the Toili was heard or seen,\na funeral did inevitably follow. And we only knew it fail once, thus\nshowing there is no rule without exception.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt is interesting to read of this exception to an ordinarily fatal rule\nin the story called\n\n\nTHE TOILI WITHOUT A FUNERAL\n\nJust as the Toili itself upsets the usual order of things, so we will\nreverse the general rule of writers by relating, first, the story of the\nToili without a funeral. This case happened at a farm not very far from\nTregaron, inhabited by a quiet and respectable old couple. The\ndwelling-house was very old, and like other old things had become very\nfragile, but because the old man had been born and brought up in it, he\nhad determined to end his days there also, on the old hearth so dear to\nhim. But very suddenly he was taken ill with a high fever, which took\nhold of his system so powerfully that his improvement became very\nuncertain, and unless his constitution proved the stronger, there was\nlittle hope that he could pull through. One night, when the fever was at\nits highest point, those who watched him were alarmed by a sudden and\nterrifying noise. They were two in number, sitting by the fireside; and\na little before midnight, after everybody else had gone to sleep, and\nwhen even the sick man seemed to be slumbering quietly, they heard this\nnoise in the inner room where the patient was; something like a great\nstove or furnace being raked out, they said.\n\nAt first they thought the invalid was awake, and had got out of bed in a\nstate of unconsciousness and was knocking things about; and they ran in,\nbut everything was as usual, not a sign of anything having taken place\nthere, so they came back. Whereupon they felt as if the door was open,\nand a multitude of people pushing in, and before they had time to speak,\nthey found themselves in the midst of a crowd of men, without being able\nto move a step. _Yet nothing was to be seen._ Neither said a word to\nthe other, perhaps overcome with fright, but both made the best of their\nway to the hearth and there sat down as close in the corner as they\ncould. They could not hear a single word clearly, but only a sort of\nwhispering all through the place, and felt perfectly sure they heard\nbreathings. Presently it seemed that the place got clearer, and they\nheard men going out through the door, which in reality was shut and\nlocked. At last they thought they heard a coffin closed in the next\nroom. Therefore they knew that it was the Toili; and presently the\ncoffin was taken up with great bustle and shaking--for the old man who\nwas ill was very heavy--and then it was carried from the inner room,\nthrough the kitchen, knocking against the dresser as it went, for they\ndistinctly heard the sound. Then it was taken outside, and there again\nthey thought they heard the house door creak as the weight was forced\nagainst it. Then the coffin was put on the bier, and they heard the feet\nof those in the Toili moving away from the house.\n\nNow there was no disputing that it really was the Toili, and so every\none supposed there was no hope of recovery for the old man. But the\nwonderful thing is, that he got better! Then the point was, who was\ngoing to die? Weeks went by without a sign that Death had singled out\nany one of the family. Weeks ran into months, and years passed by\nwithout a single funeral from the place. Here was a mystery; the Toili\nfollowed by a burial was entirely natural, but a Toili without a\nfuneral!! The best guess failed to solve the problem. However, the old\nhouse becoming at last in danger from the roof, it was necessary to\nbuild a new one, and the other fell to ruin, so that no burial ever\ncould take place from there, and therefore quite naturally this unusual\ncase of the Toili was explained.\n\nI confess the explanation is hard to follow. It seems to suggest that\napparently even destiny may be cheated on occasion, or perhaps the Toili\nin this case was an auto-suggestion.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe three stories that follow are very typical instances of the strange\nold belief.\n\n\nTHE UNBELIEVER AND THE TOILI\n\nWe were never very fond of that class of person who denies everything he\ncannot see through himself, and thinks it is impossible for anything to\ntake place outside his own experience.... Such think themselves too wise\nto put trust in those foolish stories relating to spirits,\ncorpse-candles, and such-like. They consider themselves too clever to\nlisten to those kind of tales; but some even of that class are\noccasionally obliged to confess that there is a mystery about such\ncoincidences which is beyond their understanding to comprehend. Of this\nclass was the young man who heard this Toili. He had publicly denied\nthe authenticity of spirits, and when he heard any one relating a story\nof having seen one, he would laugh in his face for superstition, and\ncontradict him in the most contemptuous manner. Whether it was conceit,\nor whether he did really consider himself wiser than the common people,\nwe do not know. But one cold winter's night his head was brought low and\nbelief forced on him, in spite of his displeasure....\n\nIn that part of the country--Teify-side--they used to be very fond of\n\"courting\" of an evening, and on \"courting\" nights the boys would gather\nand go off together to the different houses where their friends amongst\nthe maidens lived. On such a journey was the young man when he heard the\nToili. He had a friend who was going to visit his sweetheart some little\nway off, and our hero must needs go with him for company. It was a\nfrosty night, and a thin covering of snow had fallen. They had to cross\nGors Goch on their way, and as the bog was frozen, they got across with\ncomparative ease. When they reached the farm, the young man left his\nfriend to go in and visit his beloved, while he himself turned his steps\nback across the Gors towards home. But on the way there lived another\nfriend, and to save the trouble of calling up his own family to let him\nin, he determined to stay with this friend instead. Now this man lived\nin a cottage, in a place where there were two or three other workmen's\nhouses. One of these was under the same roof as the friend's house, and\nin order to call on him, our young man had to pass the door of the upper\nhouse.... He hastened along as fast as his feet would carry him, for\nnight was now rather far advanced, and very soon he came to the\ncottages. The next thing we know about him is, that he called up his\nfriend, who let him in, and made a splendid fire to warm him. Then we\nfind the friend observing that he trembled either from fear or cold, and\nlooked terrified, which caused the question: \"What has come to thee! Art\nthou frightened?\"\n\nAt first he denied, and it was long before he let the cat out of the\nbag. But at last, hard pressed, he confessed that he _had_ heard\nsomething he could not explain. \"What didst thou hear? Was it a spirit\nor the Toili?\" was immediately demanded. Now our friend did not know\nwhat to do, because he had always publicly scoffed at all such things,\nbut here was his belief in himself collapsed without resistance. On the\nother hand, to keep silence might cause pain and trouble to his friend's\nfamily, who might fear he had heard something concerning them. At last\nhe made an unequivocal confession of all that he had heard.... He said\nthat all had gone well until he drew near the door of the cottage\nadjoining his friend's, and when opposite that house he thought he heard\nthe sound of a man's voice speaking. Approaching nearer, he recognised\nthe voice at once as that of the minister, the Rev. T. R., of D----. He\nheard him take a certain text--afterwards he remembered exactly what the\ntext was--and after the reading of the text, waited to hear the\nbeginning of the address. At first he thought he was strong enough to\nstop and listen to the sermon, but fear suddenly overcame him, and he\nleft the door and took refuge in the next house with his friend.\nBesides, he felt almost too weak to stand on his feet, or even shout to\nhis friend, so greatly had terror seized him. That was all he had heard,\nbut he had received proof enough of the possibility of seeing and\nhearing the Toili, and would deny it no longer.\n\nIn the house we have mentioned there lived an old man and woman and\ntheir daughter, all at that time in good health, considering the age of\nthe old people. But soon afterwards the wife was taken ill with\njaundice, and though every remedy was tried, she grew weaker, and at\nlast died of the complaint. The day of the funeral came, but no preacher\ncould be found to read and pray by the door when the corpse was carried\nout. All the ministers in the neighbourhood had gone off to the end of\nthe county to attend some monthly meeting that was being held that week.\nOur young man, his friend and family, waited with great interest to see\nif the real funeral would take place like the Toili, though it is true\nthey were much puzzled as to how it could happen, seeing that Mr. T.\nR., the minister, was at the meeting. But on the morning of the day, as\nthe young man was himself on the way to the funeral, he met the reverend\npastor returning from his journey, and although it took much persuasion,\nhe finally induced him to come to the funeral and do the service. After\nreading, praying, and hymn-singing, the minister chose his text from the\nvery same chapter and verse as the young man had heard in the Toili, and\nimmediately began his address in the same words as the ghostly sermon,\nwell remembered by the terrified listener, and which now corroborated\nhis account!\n\nWe have no hesitation in setting down this old story as true, for we\nhave not the least doubt of the truthfulness of those who told it to\nus--namely, the friend and family of the young man himself. We do not\nknow how it will appear to the wise and learned, but we do know that it\nis not an easy task to gainsay the facts of the case.\n\n\nTHE TOILI AT LLANBADARN ODWYN CHURCHYARD\n\nWhat we are about to chronicle happened some years ago, during the time\nof September harvest, and there are a number of people living who were\neye-witnesses of the circumstance. Consequently it cannot have been\nimagination, or anything of that kind, of which solitary individuals are\nsometimes accused when they see these inexplicable visions. There could\nhave been no deception, as it happened in broad daylight, and on high\nand open ground, the season, as we have already observed, being\nharvest-time.\n\nThe cemetery and church of Llanbadarn Odwyn are situated on a high and\nhealthy hill overlooking the beautiful little Vale of Aeron. Over\nagainst the church, on an equally salubrious spot, stands the farm\ncalled Birch Hill, more to the south than the church, but in sight of,\nand quite near it. One day in harvest there happened to be a strong\nreaping party at Birch Hill, and they were reaping a field which\noverlooked the churchyard. Just before noon, one of the men chanced to\nlook that way, and perceived a funeral procession. He remarked this to\nhis fellow-labourers, and looking in the direction of the church, they\none and all saw the funeral too. It appeared to be rather different to\nthe common run of burials, more \"stylish,\" like that of a well-to-do\nperson. They particularly noticed a pall over the coffin, which was a\nvery unusual thing with them. The whole ceremony seemed to be taking\nplace in perfect order. Now the great question was, whose burial could\nit be? They asked one another, but no one knew of any death within the\ndistrict. And at dinner-time they told the farmer's wife what they had\nseen, asking her if she knew what funeral it could be. But neither\ncould she tell. However, those were not the sort of people to be\nhindered from finding out exactly what they wanted to know. So they\ndecided that the head-servant should go to the sexton, and ask him whose\nburial they had seen, and let them know on the morrow. And at the proper\ntime away went the servant to the grave-digger to get the information.\nBut when he got there and asked, not a sound or syllable of a funeral\ncould he hear of. The sexton was quite certain that nobody had been\nburied that day, and said they must have seen something else than a\nfuneral. The servant could not believe the sexton, who, on the other\nhand, disbelieved the servant when he asserted that he had seen a\nfuneral that day. And each one was so sure of his own facts as to leave\nthe matter a mystery impossible to explain. The servant went home, and\nwhen he said there had been no burial that day at Llanbadarn it was\nconcluded that they must have seen the Toili, with which conclusion the\nreapers also agreed on the morrow. Then came the excitement of watching\nto see whose funeral would follow. Some days later, as the minister's\nfamily was returning home from London for a stay in the country, it\nhappened that his wife was taken ill, and it was not long before her\nsoul left the body to join the world of spirits. The family burial-place\nwas at Llanbadarn Odwyn, and no time was lost in making arrangements for\nburying her there. Every one was informed of the sad event, so that on\nthe day of the funeral quite a crowd of relations and family connections\nwere gathered together to go and meet the corpse. And towards the time\nat which the Toili was seen, there was the real funeral in the cemetery,\nexactly in the same way as the phantom one was seen. Everything was the\nsame, even to the white pall thrown over the coffin. So the reapers of\nBirch Hill were quite satisfied that it was the Toili of this funeral\nthey saw, and no other. Here was an example of the Toili seen by a crowd\nof people in the broad light of noonday, each individual seeing it\nexactly in the same form in which the real funeral presently took place.\nTheir eyes did not deceive them, because so many eyes perceived the same\noccurrence at the same moment, and moreover, the testimony of the sexton\nwas certain proof that there was no burial in the churchyard that day.\nLet the wise explain that vision as they will.\n\n\nTHE TOILI OF RHOSMEHERIN\n\nAs already stated, night was the time when the Toili was commonly seen\nand heard. It was then one might expect to meet it, and men and women\nare to be found who have been carried along with it even to the\nchurchyard gate. But the vision has been seen at midday and at the hour\nof dusk, and it was at this latter time that appeared the Toili of\nRhosmeherin.\n\nOn a beautiful spring evening it happened that a farmer, after a hard\nday's work, lingered outside his house for a while, enjoying the soft\nbreeze that blew through wood and orchard, and listening to the anthem\nof the winged choir. Presently he chanced to look in the direction of\nBryn Meherin, where lived Vicar Hughes, a well-known and industrious man\nin his day; and the farmer was amazed to perceive every appearance of a\nfuneral there. He knew very well that it could not be a funeral either,\nfor nobody was dead, and besides the time of day was contrary to the\nusual hour for burials, so he concluded that what he saw must be the\nToili. He called his family from the house to look lest he should be\nmistaken. But there, seen by all of them, was a complete funeral, and\nfrom its appointments a very respectable one. In front, preceding the\ncrowd, was a man on horseback; then, according to the custom of those\nparts, there followed the men on foot, then the body. Over the coffin\nwas a black cloth. Then came the women on foot, and last of all the\ncoaches. As the procession moved slowly along a man on a white horse\nfrom the crowd behind moved from his place right up to the man on\nhorseback at its head.\n\nNot a doubt remained with the spectators that they had seen the Toili,\nand it was not long before the vision was fulfilled. The clergyman died\nsoon afterwards, and on the day of the funeral the farmer and family\nobserved carefully to see if it resembled the Toili.\n\nThe clergyman had always been greatly respected; he was liked by all\nranks and classes, and beloved by the poor; so that at the funeral there\nwas a larger number of people than had ever been seen before. And there\nin their midst was a man on a white horse, who turned out to be one of\nthe clergy, and who, anxious to be ready to take his part in the burial\nservice, was seen to push forward from the back of the procession and\nmove up to the front--exactly what had happened in the Toili.\n\nWe have heard that several other people also saw this Toili, and\nobserved that the incidents of the real funeral were similar to those of\nthe spectral one.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nReally grisly was the belief in corpse-dogs, of which our author relates\nthe following stories:\n\n\nCORPSE-DOGS\n\nOur \"wrestlings with the spirits\" have led us from corpse-candles to the\nToili, and in natural order we now come to the subject of \"corpse-dogs,\"\nnot the least important of death omens. It is true that I have failed to\nget the knowledge of their appearance that I wanted, and can therefore\nnot give a very good description of them. There are those I know that\nhave seen corpse-candles, a spirit, and the Toili. But of the many tales\nconcerning hell-hounds I have heard of but one person who actually saw\none, and his free description must therefore suffice us. \"Hell-hounds\"\nis another name for these apparitions.\n\nThis particular corpse-dog was seen at a place called Llwyn Beudy Isaf\nby a member of the family who happened to be living there then, and that\nwas about a hundred and fifty-two years ago. An inmate of the house was\ntaken very ill one day, and at night the farm dog began to howl in a\nvery unusual and disturbing manner. On the following night, as one of\nthe sons of the family went out to look after the animals before going\nto bed, he heard a sound which he thought was made by a sheep or a pig\ncoming towards him, with a curious noise of chains; he could hear a\nchain clanking quite plainly. As it came nearer him he saw the thing\nclearly, namely, a little dog in appearance, of a sort of reddish grey\ncolour, dragging a chain. It ran past him with the speed of lightning,\nand he saw no sign of it again. He supposed some one had been leading\nit, but could see no one about. Directly afterwards their own dog began\nto howl in the most dismal and extraordinary way, and when this sound\nwas heard all hope of recovery for the sick person was given up, and\nindeed it was not long before he drew his last breath.\n\nThe tradition about corpse-dogs is, that they are sent from hell to the\ncountry of the Earth to fetch corpses, and as a rule Death follows\nwherever they appear. And when they approach a dwelling where Death is\ncoming they are seen by the dog of the house, and cause the animal such\nterror that it foams at the mouth, and utters dismal howlings as long as\nthe hell-hounds continue near.\n\nThat is the reason why a dog howls before a death; when you hear that\nmournful sound you may be quite sure that a corpse-dog is in the\nneighbourhood, and if you observe which way the dog's head is turned, in\nthat same direction is the demon animal. Some dogs are daring enough to\ngo to the door of the sick person's house, where the corpse-dog\nwatches--yes, and howl beneath the window of the room where Death awaits\nhis prey. Although corpse-dogs are as a rule invisible, yet of their\nexistence nobody has a doubt. That one has been actually seen by an\nindividual is as good a proof as if a hundred or more had seen them.\nDogs are reliable witnesses of their presence in any place where they\ncome. They strike terror in any religious family, especially if any\nmember of it be ill, and no small anxiety is felt until the foul\ncreatures leave the neighbourhood, and the house-dogs cease to howl and\nfoam....\n\nThe hour of their visitation to a locality is generally towards the edge\nof night, just before cock-crow. Usually at that hour the dogs will\nbegin howling in heart-rending fashion, as if pitying him who will soon\nbe seized by the teeth of the hounds of hell, and find themselves\ngripped in the claws of the King of Terrors. As every reader must have\nheard many a dog howl, it would be idle to describe the sound which has\noften caused the remark, \"We shall be sure to hear of a death very\nsoon,\" and it is but rarely that it happens otherwise.\n\nIt is well known that dogs and horses are creatures gifted with very\nkeen senses of scent and sight, especially after the shades of night\nhave fallen on the face of Nature, and particularly as regards sight or\nsmell of anything beyond the usual limits of this world, such as\nspirits, corpse-candles, Toili, hell-hounds and the like. But there is a\ngreat difference in the powers of individual dogs and horses in this\nrespect. It is just the same with mankind; some have been endued with\npowers to behold the Unseen, while others again are found blind to every\nvision of the kind. That is the reason why it is useless to heed every\ndog that howls, but only certain ones in cases where it has been found\nthat a death always follows their howling.... Such a one was old \"Brins\"\nof Tymawr, of respected memory. Shaggy and red-eyed, he was not a\nparticularly good sheep-dog, but he was very faithful to his owners and\nfull of doggish common sense. The voice of Brins always struck terror\ninto the community, for well was it known that some one was sure to die\nif Brins opened his mouth to howl at night. People would go out and\nlook to see in what direction his head was pointed, so as to know\nwhereabouts the death would be.\n\nThere was an old butcher who had exceeded the allotted span of human\ndays by ten years. At last his time came; he was taken ill, and from the\nhour when he began to keep to his bed, the old dog Brins began to howl.\nAs night after night went by, John Hughes growing weaker and weaker, so\ndid the dog continue his howlings. At first he gave tongue near his own\nhome, but as the old man's end drew near, Brins went over to his house,\nthe two places not being far apart. At last, such was his boldness that\nhe crept right under the window of the room where the dying man lay, and\nhowled steadily until the end came. After this his voice was not heard\nagain at night, until just before another death occurred.\n\nIt was indeed bold of the old dog to go and howl beneath the sick man's\nwindow; because the wise who know say that as Death approaches, the\nC[^w]n Ann[^w]n (hell-hounds) draw round the house, and on the last\nnight they enter the room and stay by the bedside, so as to be near when\nthe breath leaves the body.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nWELSH FAIRIES\n\n    \"Heaven defend me from that Welsh fairy.\"\n\n\nReaders must not turn up their noses when they read the title of this\nshort chapter. Of course nobody believes in fairies nowadays, but in the\nolden time most Welsh people did, and in other things more remarkable\neven than \"y Tylwyth Teg,\"[14] such as giants and dragons. I could\nrelate a most interesting story of a giant who once lived (rather long\nago!) only about three miles from my own home; and there is a\nrespectable tradition of a terrible dragon having been seen--history\nomits the date--flying over the town of Newcastle Emlyn. And I feel this\nvolume would be incomplete without a passing reference to one of the\nmost picturesque and romantic of the ancient Welsh beliefs. Sir John\nRhys, the great Celtic scholar, has said almost the last word on the\nsubject of Welsh fairy-lore, and there are indeed few crumbs of\ninformation that he neglected to gather about the Fair Folk. But I do\nnot think he gleaned the two or three genuine fairy-tales which I found\nin Mr. Lledrod Davies' little pamphlet, and which I have translated, and\nwill repeat here. For as folk-lore it is material far too valuable to be\nlost in a publication already out of print, and in any case inaccessible\nto people not conversant with the Welsh language. Personally I have only\ncome across two people who had anything to say about the Tylwyth Teg,\nand they were not of the peasantry, but persons of antiquarian tastes,\nwho had noted the instances they referred to as curiosities of local\nbelief. So, though I have heard numbers of tales relating to\nsuperstitions such as corpse-candles, the Toili, &c., yet I have never\nmyself heard a single _first-hand_ story about fairies, and I fancy\ntheir disappearance from their old haunts dates very nearly from the\ntime that Board Schools were established in Wales. Education then\nbecame--and very properly so--a practical and rather material business;\nchildren were told that fairies were \"silly,\" in fact, non-existent, and\nso they learnt to despise the wonderful tales their parents and\ngrandparents knew, and would listen no more to them. So the old stories,\nhanded down by word of mouth through centuries, and always greedily\nheard, and willingly remembered, were gradually forgotten; and as the\nelder folk died out, were nearly all lost. A pity, for trivial and even\nchildish as they would sound to us who live in a world of scientific\nwonders that those old people could never dream of, and no longer\nrequire to feed our imagination with the marvellous and supernatural,\nstill all those ancient beliefs, legends and superstitions always seem\nto me like the romance of life crystallised, and, as such, a very\nprecious thing. For Romance and Glamour grow rare as the world grows\nolder, though most of us have had a glimpse--even though a momentary\none--of what those two names mean. And the power to express them grows\nless; I think most people will agree about that. But these old fairy\nbeliefs and curious traditions seem to transmit the true, romantic\natmosphere throughout the ages, bringing to our knowledge what our\nforefathers thought and felt in that set of ideas not immediately\naffected by their material necessities and circumstances. So that is why\nI think almost any of these old tales are interesting and worth\npreserving.\n\n[Footnote 14: Literally, \"Fair Family.\"]\n\nW. Howells, who wrote that entertaining old book, \"Cambrian\nSuperstitions,\" to which I have often referred, has a great deal to say\nabout Fair Folk, or Ellyllyn, or Bendith eu Mammau, for by these\ndifferent names were the fairies known in different districts. This is\nwhat he tells us of their origin: \"The following is the account related\nin Wales of the origin of the fairies, and was told me by an individual\nfrom Anglesey. In our Saviour's time there lived a woman whose fortune\nit was to be possessed of near a score of children ... and as she saw\nour blessed Lord approach her dwelling, being ashamed of being so\nprolific, and that He might not see them all, she concealed about half\nof them closely, and after His departure, when she went in search of\nthem, to her surprise found they were all gone. They never afterwards\ncould be discovered, for it was supposed that as a punishment from\nheaven, for hiding what God had given her, she was deprived of them;\nand, it is said, these her offspring have generated the race of beings\ncalled fairies.\"\n\nHowells also mentions the interesting belief formerly prevailing in\nPembrokeshire and Carmarthenshire concerning mysterious islands,\ninhabited by fairies, who \"attended regularly the markets at Milford\nHaven and Laugharne, bought in silence their meat and other necessaries,\nand leaving the money (generally silver pennies) departed, as if knowing\nwhat they would have been charged. They were sometimes visible and at\nother times invisible. The islands, which appeared to be beautifully and\ntastefully arranged, were seen at a distance from land, and supposed to\nbe numerously peopled by an unknown race of beings. It was also imagined\nthat they had a subterraneous passage from these islands to the towns.\"\n\nOur author tells us that both Cardiganshire and Carmarthenshire were\nspecially favoured by the Tylwyth Teg; he heard of them on the banks of\nthe Gwili (a tributary of the Towy), where \"they made excursions to the\nneighbouring farms to inspect the dairies, hearths, barn-floors, and\nthe 'ystafell,'[15] to reward the meritorious housemaid, and to punish\nthe slut and sluggard. It is said they were not partial at all to the\nGospel, and that they left Monmouthshire on account of there being so\nmuch preaching, praying to, and praising God, which were averse to their\ndispositions.\"\n\n[Footnote 15: Rooms.]\n\nIt seems that there was a well-known tradition in Carmarthenshire about\none Iago ap Dewi, a man, Howells tells us, of considerable talent, who\ntranslated the \"Pilgrim's Progress\" into Welsh. He lived in the parish\nof Llanllawddog, and \"was considered a wonderful man and of great\nlearning, as he spent the whole of his time in study and meditation;\nthat he was absent from the neighbourhood for a long period, and the\nuniversal belief among the peasantry was, that Iago got out of bed one\nnight to gaze on the starry sky, as he was accustomed (astrology being\none of his favourite studies), and whilst thus occupied the fairies, who\nwere accustomed to resort to the neighbouring wood, passing by, carried\nhim away, and he dwelt with them seven years. Upon his return he was\nquestioned by many as to where he had been, but he always avoided giving\nthem a reply.\" Howells afterwards goes on to say that others with whom\nhe conversed related that \"their parents credited the above story, and\nthat they had no question of the existence of fairies and their\nwonderful exploits; but one Mary Shon Crydd said that when a child she\nknew the daughter of Iago ap Dewi, and that she thought it very probable\nthat he had been from home with some learned characters, but the\nsuperstition of the people led them to attribute his learning, &c., to\nthe interference of the fairies.\" Although it disposes of the fairy\nidea, \"Mary Shon Crydd's\" explanation of Iago's absence, though prosaic,\nwas, I should think, the true one! But it is interesting to read of such\na tradition being extant in days so comparatively near our own.\n\nAll dwellers in the country are familiar with the appearance of \"fairy\nrings,\" those curious and inexplicable circles that occur in the grass\nof meadows and lawns. No amount of mowing obliterates them, and probably\nnothing short of digging up or ploughing would get rid of them. In Wales\nthese odd patches seem to have ever been regarded with a mixture of fear\nand interest, as the undoubted haunts of the Tylwyth Teg, and were\ncarefully shunned in consequence, especially after nightfall. Howells\nsays, regarding these rings, that \"no beasts will eat of them, although\nsome persons suppose that sheep will greedily devour the grass.\" He adds\nthat he had a friend who told him that when he was a child he was always\nwarned by his mother never to approach, much less enter, the rings, for\nthey were enchanted ground, and anybody going near them was liable to be\ncarried off by the Fair Folk. In connection with the fairies' practice\nof kidnapping human beings, there are many stories in \"Cambrian\nSuperstitions,\" most of which have one feature in common, namely, that\nwhen the people thus carried off returned to this upper world--in the\ncases where they did return, but that did not always happen--they always\nsupposed they had been but a few moments absent, though the period had\noften run into years, as in Iago ap Dewi's case.\n\nGiraldus Cambrensis, in his \"Itinerary through Wales,\" in the twelfth\ncentury, heard many marvels, and not the least of these was the tale of\none Elidorus, a priest, who in his youth had been carried off by the\nfairies, and by them held in captivity for many years. According to\nGiraldus, he made some use of his time amongst them by learning their\nlanguage, which he is said to have told the Bishop of St. David's much\nresembled the Greek idiom!\n\nI will now proceed with Mr. Lledrod Davies' account of the Tylwyth Teg,\nas he heard of them in Cardiganshire, not so very many years ago.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"In collecting and noting down these few tales from an older generation,\nit is useless to try and trace their source in the history of the old\ntimes before ours. It is enough for readers to know now that there were\nalways 'little people' of that kind in Wales, and that our ancestors\nwere very sociable and friendly with them. I take the following tales\nfrom some I heard by word of mouth in the country of Teify-side.\n\n\"Small of stature were the Tylwyth Teg, towards two feet in height, and\ntheir horses of the size of hares. Fair of aspect were they, and very\nfine their clothing; their clothes were generally white, but on certain\noccasions they are said to have been seen dressed in green; their gait\nwas lively, and ardent and loving was their glance. Very mischievous if\nthwarted, kind and good-natured otherwise. And--speaking from the human\npoint of view--they were thieves by inclination, and therefore it was\nconsidered rather dangerous to have them coming round houses, as they\nregarded all property as shared in common....\n\n\"They were peaceful and kindly amongst themselves, diverting in their\ntricks, and charming in their walk and dancing. They were good-natured\nto good-natured people, and hateful to those who hated them. They were\nsubterranean people, therefore in the earth was their home. There were\ntheir country, their cities, and their castles, and there lived their\nKing. And from thence they made their incursions into the Earth-country,\nin some way that nobody can guess or know, nor is there any hope of any\none ever knowing.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOur author goes on to information about the fairy rings, and has two\nstories to relate of people who disappeared in them.\n\n\nTHE FAIRY RINGS\n\nA number of these rings are shown by the old people all through the\ncountry; I myself remember many of them. They were of various\nappearance; sometimes the circle was but small, again others were seen\nas large as a mill-wheel.... These rings were the places where the\nTylwyth Teg came to dance on fine, bright nights. The circles were only\nto be seen on marshy meadow-ground, and sometimes on hay land. On a\nmoonlight night was the time to see these rings, because then the fairy\nfolk came out of their hiding-places to whirl and dance about; and so\nthey may be seen until the Son of the Dawn[16] opens his eyes and causes\nthem to disappear. On the following morning the keen-eyed may see the\nmark of their feet on the meadow. The grass that surrounds the rings is\nthicker than the rest, because no animal will feed on the spot where the\nfairies have been. So these circles remained by day as the Tylwyth Teg\nhad shaped them; and they were considered places it was best to keep\naway from, except in broad daylight while the owner of cattle was always\nalarmed if he saw his animals go near them. There was great danger in\napproaching the rings when the Fair Folk were dancing; for there was\nsuch magic in their melody, such allurement in their appearance, and\nsuch an attraction in their whirling, that it was impossible for any\none who came near to resist their charm. If within their enchanted\ncircle they could entice a handsome youth, or a pure maiden, nevermore\nwould they be seen in this world. In some cases people have been\nkidnapped accidentally and against their will.\n\n[Footnote 16: _I.e._, the sun.]\n\nSuch a one, and who lived with them for a year, was the servant of Allt\nDdu. This farm stood half-way along the road between Pontrhydyfendigaid\nand Tregaron. It is said that this servant and another one left the\nhouse at dusk to look for some cattle--yearlings and two-year-olds--that\nhad strayed that morning.... So, as was natural to do in such a case,\none servant took one road and his companion the other, so as to be sure\nof coming across them. But after hours spent in searching, one of the\nmen returned; how he found the cattle is not related, but at least they\ncame back in safety. And as it was very late--indeed nearly morning--he\nfelt anxious about the safety of his fellow-servant, as he was afraid\nsome accident had befallen him in one of the bog-holes of Gors Goch.\nMorning came but no servant, and not a sound of his footsteps returning.\nThen inquiries were made, but no sign or syllable could be heard of him.\nDays and weeks passed by, and now, doubt arose about his fate amongst\nhis relations, for they began to suspect that his fellow-servant was the\ncause of his disappearance, and had murdered him and concealed his\nbody. So the other labourers, night after night, accused the poor man of\nthe crime; and though the young fellow protested his innocence in the\nmost emphatic manner, yet appearances were against him; he could not\nsatisfy their doubts, and a black mark stood against his name. At last,\nwhatever happened, he determined to go to a \"wise man\" (a person of\nuncommon importance in those days) and ask him point-blank if he could\ntell what had happened. So he went, and laid the case before the \"wise\nman,\" who told him that his companion was alive, but that a year and a\nday must elapse before they would see him again, and that then they must\nseek him at the very hour when he was lost.\n\nSo, after weary waiting, a year and a day passed by, and the\nlong-expected hour arrived. And then the missing man's family, with the\nservant at their head, betook themselves to the appointed glade; and\nthere, to their amazement, whom should they see in the midst of a fairy\nring, dancing as gaily and happily as any one, but the lost youth. Then,\naccording as the wise man had directed, his fellow-servant seized him by\nhis coat collar and dragged him away, saying to him, \"Where hast thou\nbeen, lad?\"\n\nThe other replied, \"Hast thou got the cattle?\" He thought he had been at\nthat spot only two or three minutes. When it was explained to him that\nhe had been in the fairy ring, and how he had been stolen by them, he\nsaid they had been such good company that he never supposed he had been\nmore than a few minutes with them. And great was the joy at recovering\nthe lost one.\n\n\nTHE MAIDEN WHO WAS LOST IN A FAIRY RING\n\nI will only tax the reader's patience with two of the tales about these\nfairy rings, because we come across such tales in various forms all\nthrough the country. But the extraordinary case of the disappearance of\nthe maiden in this story is excuse enough, I think, for introducing it\ninto this book of memories.\n\nIn an old farm on Teify-side there lived a very respectable family; and\nin order to carry on the work of the farm briskly they kept both men and\nmaid servants. On a certain evening a servant man and maid went out to\nfetch the cattle home for milking, and all of a sudden the man lost\nsight of the maid, and, although he searched and called, no sign of her\nor sound of her voice reached him. He went back with the cows, and told\nthe family of the mysterious disappearance of the girl. From the evil\nreputation that the Tylwyth Teg had in those parts, it was decided to\nconsult a \"wise man\" at once. Away they went to him, and after answering\nthe usual inquiries he said the girl had been snatched into the fairies'\nring and that she was with them now. If they were careful they might get\nher back after a year and a day, if they would go to the appointed place\nat the proper time.\n\nAll was done as the wise man directed, and great was their astonishment\nto perceive the maiden dancing away in the midst of the Fair Folk, and,\nas they were instructed, they seized and drew her out of the magic\ncircle, happy and in good health.\n\nHer master was told by the wise man to be careful never to touch her\nwith iron after she was rescued. At first he was very particular about\nthis, but as time went on they all got careless, and at last one day,\njust as she had dressed to go on an errand, he accidentally touched her\nwith a horse's bridle; when, as suddenly as pulling a cat out of the\nfire, he entirely lost sight of the maid. He rushed off at once to the\nwise man for help, but was told that the girl was gone never to return.\nWe may observe further, in this connection, that it was formerly\nsupposed that the Tylwyth Teg always hovered round about dwelling-houses\nwatching people, especially at night. And in all likelihood, according\nto this story, they had kept an eye on the maiden ever since she was\ntaken away from them.\n\n\nTHE TIME OF THEIR DANCING\n\nThe fairies' dancing took place when spring began, and continued\nthroughout the summer. But spring, as a rule, was the season of their\nmerriment, and at that time children would be lost, yes, and people of\nfull age too. Readers will surely have heard these tales of children\nbeing stolen and returning again after some years; of the frequent\nvisitation by the Tylwyth Teg of families in a neighbourhood, of their\nboldness as winter began, and their anger if every family were not\ncareful to put money, food, and such things in convenient places near\nthe hearth, so that when the fairies came they could take what they\nwanted without difficulty. They required great cleanliness of every\nwoman and girl they met with. If care was not taken in these respects,\ntheir curse was sure to fall on the family, in years to come. Night was\nthe time when they visited the earth, and from midnight till morning\nthey enjoyed themselves frolicking about hay-fields and marsh-lands.\n\nThey were very sociable beings. So much so that it was with difficulty\nthey were got rid of once they got their heads into the houses of any\nneighbourhood. The only way to get rid of them was to throw rusty iron\nat them. To do this was like spitting in the face of God, the greatest\ninsult you could hurl at them. Away they went at once, never to return\nexcept for deeds of vengeance....\n\nIt may be observed, amongst their other characteristics, that they only\ninhabited certain parts of the country. The neighbourhood of Swydd\nFfynon was especially distinguished by them. All around there would be\nseen the \"rings\" on every fine morning in spring and summer, while other\nparts of Wales were entirely ignorant of these fairy circles, and never\na sign or sight of them was to be had.\n\n\nTHE FAIRY OINTMENT\n\nIn the quiet village of Swydd Ffynon there lived an old woman who died\nabout twenty years ago, when drawing near her hundredth year. She was\nvery fond of old stories; in a word, she simply lived on them. She was\nin her element when relating ancient tales of the adventures of the\nWelsh folk, and according to her they were full of adventures in those\ndays. And amongst others, she told the following story about her\ngrandmother: This grandmother when young, seems to have been a pious and\nthoughtful person, very fond of the society of invisible beings, and the\ninhabitants of the spirit-world. Also, by some means or other, she got\ninto communication with the Fair Folk, and became great friends with\nthem; her hearth became a kind of rendezvous for them; and so faithful\nwas she to them that she thoroughly gained their favour and confidence,\nsuch a thing as seldom happens to human beings. So fond of her were they\nthat they invited her to go with them to one of their palaces under the\nearth, to which she heartily consented. When she got there she found\nherself in the most beautiful and stately house her eyes had ever seen;\nin truth, never had she imagined such a place was possible. How she went\nthere she did not know; all she knew was that she had left the Earth\ncountry, and was now an inhabitant of a region she had not dreamed could\nexist; but she went there and returned in some way entirely unknown to\nherself.\n\nAt last one day she found herself summoned to the fairy country on an\nerrand as nurse to the wife of one of their princes, who lived in a\npalace magnificent to a degree that exceeds earthly language to express.\nThere were splendid ornaments, costly pearls, a golden pavement,\npartitions hung with silks of varying hue, and the garments of the\npeople all changing white and blue. Indeed the old woman was puzzled to\ndescribe the splendours of the house, clothes and so on. There was\ninstalled the nurse, and her charge, the fairy infant, slept on a bed of\ndown, with coverings of the finest lawn. Everything she wanted was\ncomplete and at hand. The nurse was amazed at such perfection, and\nastonished that a person like herself should have been summoned by such\nprincely people. While tending the baby night and morning, she had to\nanoint him with a certain ointment. When this ointment was given her,\nshe was told to be careful not to let it touch the eyes, as it was\ninjurious and even destructive to the sight. At first her fear of the\nointment caused her to be very careful in using it, but as time went by\nshe grew forgetful. So in a little while, as she was anointing the\ninfant one day, something accidentally tickled her eye, and at once her\nhand, faithful to its owner, went up to the eye and rubbed it gently.\nImmediately it was as if a veil fell from her eyes, and she began to see\nthings a thousand times more wonderful than before. In the course of the\nday she saw many a marvellous and splendid vision. She saw the Fair Folk\nquite plainly, little men and women, going and coming through the\npalace, and carrying presents of every kind to her lady. No lack of\ndainties was brought her, the purest kindness and affection were\ndisplayed. Later on, when undressing the child, she remarked to the\nprincess on the number of visitors she had had that day.\n\n\"How do you know that?\" asked the princess, \"have you anointed your eyes\nwith the ointment?\" And in the flash of an eyelid she leapt from her\ncouch, and striking one hand with the other, she blew on the nurse's\neyes, which immediately lost sight of the enchanted surroundings, and\nthough she tried hard in future days, nevermore did she see the\nprincess, or any of the fair family or their doings.\n\nAnd so, without knowing how, she found herself by her own fireside at\nhome, just as usual, and that was the last of her stories about the\nTylwyth Teg. And I also leave them here, for though I could add other\nstories to these I have noted, I have written enough about them now. I\nknew the old woman who told this story, and she always insisted she was\nthe grandchild of the fairies' nurse, and, moreover, was very proud of\nthe fact, and not without cause either.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI should have mentioned earlier that in translating Mr. Lledrod Davies'\ntales, I have left the names of places exactly as he had them. Where\nthey are filled in they are the real ones, several of them places I\nknow. It will be noticed that he often makes use of the expression\n\"Teify-side.\" Now that name we generally apply to the district of the\nlower Teify, lying more or less between the towns of Llandyssil and\nCardigan. But from what Mr. Davies says, he evidently includes in this\nterm all the upper valley of the Teify too, which rises in the hills not\nmany miles away from his native village, and most of his stories are\nlocated more or less in that neighbourhood. It is, or was until late\nyears, a remote and lonely district, backed by the wild moors of the\nEllineth Mountains, that to this day look as if they might be the last\nrefuge of all the fairies, ghosts, and goblins of Wales. With these\nmountain wastes behind, and the gloomy stretch of the great Tregaron\nbog before them, is it any wonder that the imaginative Celtic\ninhabitants of Pontrhydyfendigaid and the surrounding hamlets saw, and\nwished to see, evidences of the supernatural in almost every unimportant\ncoincidence? To them it came natural to believe in those\n\n                            \"Faery elves,\n      Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side,\n      Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,\n      Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon\n    Sits arbitress.\"\n\nGeorge Borrow tells us that when he was walking through Cardiganshire,\nhe came one evening to a large sheet of water not far from Tregaron. He\nmust needs find out the name of this little lake, and therefore knocked\nat the door of a cottage that happened to be close by, in order to ask\nthe information. A woman opened the door, of whom Borrow seems to have\nasked a great many tiresome questions, after his usual habit; but this\ntime he elicited the curious information from his victim that a fairy\ncow was supposed to live in the lake, a \"water-cow, that used to come\nout at night, and eat people's clover in the fields.\" That odd tradition\nwas living only sixty years ago, which is interesting to think of.\n\nNow I have told the little I have been able to gather about the Tylwyth\nTeg and their ways, and so we will bid them farewell, and turn to more\nserious subjects.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nWISE MEN, WITCHES, AND FAMILY CURSES\n\n    \"Wizards that peep and that mutter.\"\n\n\nWhen reading a provincial daily paper a few days ago, I came across the\nfollowing paragraph:\n\n\"Although the school-master has been abroad in Wales for quite a long\ntime, the belief in witchcraft still lingers here and there, and cropped\nup yesterday in an assault case at Aberavon, where one woman accused\nanother of 'marking her house with a criss-cross to bewitch her.'\"\n\nIt seems curious to read these words in the twentieth century, and it is\nhard to realise that a very few generations ago the woman who had put\nthe \"criss-cross\" on her neighbour's house would have stood a very good\nchance of losing her life by being ducked by the mob for a witch, if\nindeed legal proceedings had not been taken against her.\n\nAs late as the year 1664 the great judge, Sir Matthew Hale, presided at\nthe trial which resulted in the condemnation and hanging of two poor\nwomen as witches, and the last execution of the kind took place in 1682\nwhen three other wretched women were executed at Exeter for the same\noffence, on their own confession. And the statute against witchcraft\npassed under James the First was not repealed until the reign of George\nthe Second, though by that time it was indeed practically a dead letter.\nMental progress and education have since done their part in abolishing\nthat panic fear of witchcraft which, supported by a bad law, caused the\npersecution and death of so many innocent persons for more than a\ncentury; but that belief--genuine if surreptitious--in the powers of\n\"wise\" men and women still lingers in the minds of the people in the\nWest Country, one need only live in Wales for a few years to find out.\n\nNor must one feel too scornful of such \"superstition\" when one\nrecollects how palmists, clairvoyants, and crystal-gazers flourish in\nLondon and every other city on the payments of hundreds of well-educated\nand enlightened people. \"Oh, a pack of silly women with more money than\nsense,\" you may exclaim. To which I reply, \"Not at all,\" if the\ntestimony of a most respectable fortune-teller who was once well known\nto me can be believed. According to her, quite a number of her clients\nbelonged to the sterner (and we presume) more sensible sex, and my own\nobservation has also led me to conclude that men on the whole are quite\nas much tempted to peer into futurity as women are, only naturally they\nthink it their duty to pretend indifference on such matters! Still,\nhowever that may be, the Bond Street fortune-teller, with whom one makes\na solemn appointment, and who never \"looks at a hand\" under a guinea, is\nnevertheless but a witch, belonging to the same ancient guild as the\nunkempt old woman who lives in a hovel on the sea-shore near a certain\nlittle town in Cardiganshire. This particular old woman has quite a\nlocal reputation as a witch--even attaining to the fame of having her\nportrait on a postcard--and is much resorted to by summer visitors who\nwish to have their fortunes told.\n\nBut Cardiganshire, especially the Northern part, has always been a\nstronghold of belief in witches and wise men, and their supposed powers\nof putting a \"curse\" on the persons or property of those who annoyed\nthem. There is a story told of an old woman who had the reputation of\nbeing a witch in a lonely district of the wild hills of North\nCardiganshire. She was on the road one day, when the doctor came riding\nalong in great haste, whom she tried to detain. But he, either not\nunderstanding what she wanted, or unwilling to stop, urged his horse\nforward, somewhat roughly bidding the old crone begone. Shrieking after\nhim, she told him to beware, \"as she would lay a curse upon his horse,\"\nwhich threat he soon forgot, and after visiting his patient returned\nhome in safety. That night, however, Dr. G. was roused from his sleep by\nthe groom, who asked him to come out at once to the horse, as it seemed\nto be very ill. To make the story short, the poor animal died in a few\nhours' time, nor could its owner ever determine the nature of its\nextraordinary attack, as it was apparently perfectly well when stabled\nfor the night. But the coincidence between the horse's death and the\nwitch's words was certainly striking.\n\nI am reminded of another and quite modern instance of a Welsh witch's\ncurse, though to avoid localisation I will not say exactly where she\nlived in the Principality. Her father was cowman at a house called\nFairview, inhabited by a family called Trower. Mr. Trower possessed a\nrather savage bull, which one day broke loose, charged all who tried to\ncatch him, and finally, sad to relate, gored and killed the poor cowman.\nHe had lived in a cottage on the estate, and nothing could exceed the\nkindness and sympathy shown by the Trower family to his daughter in her\nbereavement. We will call her Patty Jones. After a decent interval had\nelapsed, Mr. Trower gave the woman notice to quit, as the cottage was\nwanted for somebody else. Although every indulgence regarding the notice\nwas given, and continual consideration shown, Patty, being a woman of\nviolent and ungrateful temper, took the matter very badly. She refused\nto go, and was eventually evicted, and her goods sold. It is said that\nmeeting Mr. Trower on the road one day, she took the occasion to call\ndown the wrath of Heaven upon him and his family, and made no secret\nafterwards of having \"put a curse\" upon her benefactors, for such\nindeed the Trowers had shown themselves. Whether it is ever really given\nto any human being so to blast the lives of fellow-creatures or not, one\ncannot tell. But it is certain that this particular family thereafter\nappeared for some years to be singled out by fate for more than their\nfair share of ill-luck, though, to avoid recognition, further details\nmust not be given here.\n\nAt the sale of her goods a man named Morgan happened to buy Patty\nJones's cow. Whereupon she told him she would \"put a curse\" on the\nanimal, so that \"he would never get any good from her.\" Sure enough,\nsoon afterwards the cow sickened with a mysterious complaint, which\ndefied the skill of the local \"cow-doctor.\" So Morgan, advised by his\nneighbours, went to seek counsel of a \"white witch,\" who gave him a\ncharm which she said would cure the cow. \"And now,\" she added, \"wouldn't\nyou like me to put a curse on that woman? Because I can if you wish it.\"\nBut Morgan magnanimously replied, \"Oh, no. _I do not wish_ her any harm\nwhatever,\" and departed with his charm and cured his cow. It would be\ninteresting to know the nature of this \"charm,\" whether it was a written\nform of incantation, or something of the nature of a medicine. Mr.\nHenderson, whose interesting book on folk-lore I have already quoted,\ntells us of a piece of silver at Lockerby in Dumfries-shire, called the\nLockerby Penny, which was used against madness in cattle. It was put\ninto a cleft stick, and the water of a well stirred round with it, after\nwhich the water was bottled off and given to any animal so afflicted. In\nother districts certain pebbles and stones are supposed to have the same\nmagic property.\n\nSome Welsh witches are said to treat their patients with sulphur, a\nremedy which I think savours more of \"black magic\" than \"white.\"\n\nIt seems that a favourite trick of North Cardiganshire witches was to\n\"put a spell\" on the pigs of any neighbour who annoyed them, making the\npoor animals _pranking_ mad (as my informant expressed it). And nothing\nwould cure this madness till the witch had been fetched, and (doubtless\nfor a consideration) consented to remove the spell.\n\nHowever, belief in the powers of \"wise\" men and women is now chiefly\nconfined to their abilities as healers, and in this capacity they are\nstill resorted to in the more remote districts of Cardiganshire. The\ncure--whatever the malady--appears to be always the same, and is called\n\"measuring the wool.\" The witch takes two pieces of yarn--scarlet for\nchoice--of exactly the same length. One of these is bound round the\nwrist or leg of the patient; the other is worn in the same way by the\nhealer. The patient goes home, and after a few days the witch measures\nher own piece of yarn. If it has shrunk from the original length, well\nand good; the yarn continues to grow shorter (so it is said) and the\npatient recovers. But if on the contrary the yarn grows perceptibly\nslacker, the patient gets worse and will surely die. The person who told\nme about the bewitched pigs had also much to say regarding this practice\nof \"measuring the yarn.\" She declared that quite lately a friend of\nhers, a young man, who was very ill with \"decline\" and for whom ordinary\ndoctors could do nothing, went at last to consult a \"wise woman\" in the\nparish of Eglwysfach[17] in North Cardiganshire. She measured the yarn\nfor him, and he immediately began to recover and is now well and working\nat the business which ill-health had forced him to leave. In this case\nfaith must have been a strong factor towards recovery. But\n\n    \"I cannot tell how the truth may be;\n    I say the tale as 'twas said to me.\"\n\n[Footnote 17: \"Eglwysfach\" is the real name, and in \"Welsh Folk-lore\"\nMr. Owen relates a case of \"measuring the yarn\" in the same village,\nwhere the custom seems to have been long prevalent and firmly believed\nin. His account of the charming for a case of \"Clefyd y Galon\" (or\nheart-sickness) is worth quoting. The patient was bidden to roll his\nsleeves up above the elbow, then \"Mr. Jenkins (a respectable farmer and\ndeacon amongst the Wesleyans) took a yarn thread and placing one end on\nthe elbow measured to the tip of Felix's (the patient) middle finger,\nthen he tells his patient to take hold of the yarn at one end, the other\nend resting the while on the elbow, and he was to take fast hold of it,\nand stretch it. This he did and the yarn lengthened, and this was a sign\nhe was actually sick of heart-disease. Then the charmer tied the yarn\naround the patient's left arm above the elbow, and there it was left,\nand in the next visit measured again, and he was pronounced cured.\"]\n\nOnly a year ago, in my own district, I heard of a young girl being taken\nto the local \"wise man\" to have \"her wool measured,\" but in her case the\ncharm does not seem to have worked well, as though she did not die, she\nis still ailing. Another wizard, who died only last year, was an old man\nwho lived at Trawscoed in Cardiganshire. He also worked cures with\nscarlet worsted, and enjoyed a great local reputation.\n\nThe use of scarlet wool as a charm is of great antiquity, and is\nsupposed to be originally derived from the practices of the magicians of\nBabylon. And according to Theocritus, the Greek maidens used it as a\ncharm to bring back faithless lovers. Mr. Elworthy, in his book on the\n\"Evil Eye,\" refers to the ancient use made of coloured yarn in\nincantations, quoting from Petronius: \"She then took from her bosom a\nweb of twisted threads of various colours, and bound it on my neck.\"\n\nIn South Wales, as in many other districts, witches were supposed to\nhave the power of transforming themselves into hares. Especially, as I\nhave said before, was this superstition rife in North Cardiganshire, and\nthere to this day, any hare that has white about it is called \"a witch\nhare,\" and it is held very unlucky to kill it, while until quite lately\nincidents such as the following were freely repeated and firmly believed\namong the shepherds, small farmers, and miners who composed the scanty\npopulation of those lonely hills.\n\nOne day, the story goes, a funeral party was proceeding from the\ndeceased's house towards the churchyard, when suddenly a hare was seen\nrunning just ahead of the procession. Nobody took much notice of it at\nfirst, thinking it had merely been disturbed from its form, and would\nprobably soon disappear on one side of the road or the other. There was\nneither hedge nor fence to prevent its doing so, for the road was only a\nmountain track, which the hare might have left at any moment to seek\ncover among the heather and fern of the hill-side. But this it did not\ndo; to the astonishment of all, the animal, apparently not a whit\nfrightened by the people behind, held steadily on its way. Sometimes, of\ncourse, owing to its swiftness, it would be lost to view for a few\nmoments, but always a turn of the way would bring it in sight again, and\nso it led the procession to the burial-ground. Then on a sudden it\nvanished as mysteriously as it had appeared. For no man could say what\ndirection it took; only that at one moment it was there in plain view of\nall, and at the next it was gone. And after that, nobody present doubted\nthat the creature was no hare, but a witch in that shape, who, scenting\nthe approach of Death, had added her noisome presence to the crowd of\nmourners, until their arrival on consecrated ground had forced her to\nfly.\n\nThere is a tale belonging to the same district--roughly speaking--of\nwhich I have unfortunately only heard the vague outlines, but the\nincident is worth relating even without details, as it seems\nextraordinary in whatever way it is explained.\n\nOn a certain day, not very many years ago, a hare was hunted somewhere\nin the hill-country bordering the shires of Montgomery and Cardigan.\nFrom all accounts, never was better sport seen; the animal was game to\nthe last, and by many a twist and turn managed to cheat its pursuers. At\nlast, however, it appeared exhausted; the hounds closed in, and the\nhunters, immediately behind, saw them hurl themselves upon their quarry.\nThe huntsman hastened forward, and every one pressed round to see the\ngallant animal which had given such a splendid run. But where was the\nhare? Whimpers and yelps of disappointment from the hounds proclaimed\nthat their prey had escaped, but the question was, how? No hare that\never lived could have eluded the hounds as they fairly threw themselves\nupon her, but still the fact remained, \"Puss\" had disappeared, vanishing\nsomehow in the very onslaught of tearing, eager hounds, and before the\neyes of several spectators. Of course the story in the country has ever\nbeen that a \"witch hare\" was hunted that day, and \"every one knows\" that\nnothing but a silver bullet can destroy a witch.\n\nThe belief that only a silver bullet can harm a witch is illustrated in\nmy next story. It was related to me by the Rector of a certain parish in\nPembrokeshire, who said that though the people it concerned had been\ndead some years, the incident was still repeated with conviction by the\ncountry-folk of the district.\n\nThere was an old woman living in the village of Llaw----n who was\nsupposed to be a witch and to have the power of changing herself into a\nhare. It was asserted that she had often been seen in this guise, and\nseveral persons tried on various occasions to shoot the uncanny beast.\nBut no shot would touch it. However, \"John the Smith\" was a cunning man,\nand one day he loaded his gun with a silver sixpence in lieu of shot,\nand went out to look for the \"witch hare.\" Presently he came across it\nin a field, and then--Bang! went his gun. Instantly the poor animal made\noff, but the sixpence had evidently found its mark, for as the hare ran\nit trailed a hind leg behind it. Still, lame as it was, it managed to\nelude the smith, and, turning in the direction of the village,\ndisappeared. But that evening John went to the house of 'Liza the Witch,\nand, knocking at the door, cried, \"How be'st thou, 'Liza?\"\n\n\"John, John, thou very well knowest how I be,\" was the reply. Nor would\nshe allow him to enter. Then John the Smith went home well satisfied\nthat he had done what no one else had been able to do, and had wounded\nthe \"witch hare.\"\n\nApropos of this belief in a witch's powers of self-transformation, a\nrather curious incident came under my notice in my own neighbourhood\nsome few months ago. Two gentlemen were partridge-shooting, and in the\ncourse of their walk the path they followed should have led them through\nthe garden of a somewhat lonely cottage inhabited by an old woman. This\nwoman was known to be very unpopular with her neighbours, in\nconsequence, it was supposed, of a quarrelsome disposition. When the\nshooters reached this cottage, they found, to their surprise, that the\ngate by which they usually passed through the premises was fastened with\na padlock. A shout produced the old woman from the house, who hastened\nto let them through, apologising profusely for the padlock, but saying\nshe had been obliged to lock her gate, because \"the boys were so bad to\nher. Look,\" she added, pointing to the end wall of her cottage, \"that is\nwhat they did to me last night.\" And there, nailed to the wall, was a\nblack rabbit. One of the gentlemen, to cheer her, said jokingly, \"Oh,\nthat's nothing. A black rabbit! Isn't that lucky?\" \"No,\" was the answer,\n\"not lucky; very bad luck, and they knew that very well.\"\n\nTo any one conversant with Cardiganshire superstitions, there is no\ndoubt that the nailing up of the black rabbit was intended to signify\nthat the inhabitant of the house was a witch. True, the animal should\nhave been a hare, but the Ground Game Act having caused hares to become\nalmost extinct in this district, the perpetrators of the insult took the\nbest substitute they could find in the shape of the black rabbit, well\nknowing that its sinister significance would not be lost on the poor old\nwoman.\n\nTo return for a moment to the Pembrokeshire village we have already\nmentioned, Llaw----n, where there is a beautiful ruin of a castle, most\npicturesquely situated on the edge of a wooded cliff overhanging the\nriver Cleddau. In olden times this castle was a place of great\nimportance as a Palace of the Bishops of St. David's, some of whom, it\nis said, preferred its strong, well-fortified walls to their splendid\npalace in the episcopal city. And in Llaw----n Castle there was once\nimprisoned a celebrated witch, Tanglost ferch Glyn, against whom the\nreigning prelate, Bishop John Morgan, had taken proceedings for some\nrather serious offence, and whom he pronounced \"accursed,\" or, in other\nwords, excommunicated. After escaping once from custody, and being\nrearrested, Tanglost made submission, and (we presume) did penance, and\nwas at length released, though banished from the diocese of St. David's.\nThereupon she betook herself to Bristol, where, engaging the services of\nanother witch, one Margaret Hackett, she endeavoured to \"distrew\" her\nenemy the Bishop by witchcraft. After a time, Tanglost ventured to\nreturn to Pembrokeshire, and at a certain house[18] (still well known\nand inhabited), \"in a chambre called Paradise Chambre,\" made, with\nHackett's help, two waxen images for injuring the Bishop. Two images not\nbeing powerful enough to do the work, Tanglost and her coadjutor called\nin the aid of a third party, \"which they thought hadde more counynge and\nexperience than they had, and made the IIIrd ymage to distrew the\nBishop.\" However, not only did the prelate continue to live and\nflourish, but, as was inevitable, knowledge of these sinister designs\nreached his ears, and Tanglost, with her two assistants, was summoned to\nappear for judgment before the Prior of Monckton, who held jurisdiction\nin her neighbourhood. Escaping for the moment, she again fled to\nBristol, but was there reached by the long arm of the Church, and\narrested on a charge of heresy. Four Doctors of Divinity considered her\ncase, and handed her over to the Bishop for punishment, which would\nprobably have meant being burnt as a witch in the market-place, if Fate\nhad not again interfered through the efforts of her friends, who caused\nTanglost to be arrested on an accusation of debt, bailed her\nsuccessfully out of prison, and rescued her from the Bishop's\nemissaries. Then a bill in Chancery was filed against her, praying that\nthe Mayor and Sheriffs of the city of Bristol should be ordered to\narrest her, and bring her before the King in Chancery. But to make a\nlong story short, Tanglost, who seems to have been a woman of infinite\nresource, managed once more to evade this fresh danger, and it is to be\nsupposed eventually died in her bed, in spite of her unlawful traffic\nwith witchcraft. Her persecutor, Bishop John Morgan, held the See of St.\nDavid's from 1496 to 1505, and reference to the Chancery proceedings\nagainst Tanglost are to be found at the Record Office under \"Early\nChancery Proceedings.\"\n\n[Footnote 18: Perhaps this house had an ancient reputation for\npossessing an atmosphere suitable for such \"works of darkness.\" For\nGiraldus Cambrensis, writing three hundred years before the time of\nTanglost, mentions it as being haunted by an unclean spirit which\n\"conversed with men, and in reply to their taunts upbraided them openly\nwith everything they had done from their birth, and which they were not\nwilling should be known by others ... the priests themselves, though\nprotected by the crucifix or the holy water, on devoutly entering the\nhouse were equally subject to the same insults....\"]\n\nThe practice of making waxen images of the person to be injured is of\nimmemorial antiquity. We read in Professor Maspero's \"Dawn of\nCivilisation\" about the Egyptian magicians that \"to compose an\nirresistible charm they merely required a little blood from a person, a\nfew nail-parings, some hair, or a scrap of linen which he had worn, and\nwhich from contact with his skin had become impregnated with his\npersonality. Portions of these were incorporated with the wax of a doll\nwhich they modelled and clothed to resemble their victim. Thenceforward\nall the inflictions to which the image was subjected were experienced\nby the original; he was consumed with fever when his effigy was exposed\nto the fire, he was wounded when the figure was pierced with a knife.\nThe Pharaohs themselves had no immunity from these spells.\" Nor need we\ngo back as far as the Pharaohs to find witches and wizards making use of\neffigies for the undoing of their enemies. According to Mr. Elworthy,\nfrom whose interesting book on the \"Evil Eye\" I have already quoted,\nsuch images and figures were used in quite modern times by \"witches\"\namong the Somersetshire peasants, and dried pigs' and sheeps' hearts\nstudded with pins have been found in old cottages in that county\ndedicated to the same malevolent purpose. Onions were also sometimes\nused in the same way. A lady, who lived many years in a rural parish of\nSomerset, also told me only a few months ago that she had there known\nseveral people who were supposed to be witches, and had seen hanging in\ntheir chimneys, dried animals' hearts, stuck full of pins, intended to\ninjure their own or other people's enemies.\n\nA well-known \"white witch\" lives and flourishes to-day in the village of\nT----n, in South Pembrokeshire. Some most interesting particulars\nconcerning her were sent me a few weeks ago, by a correspondent in that\ncounty. My friend wrote: \"An old man, David Evans, (no relation to the\nwitch) ... who has worked ... for thirty years, 'failed,' as they say in\nPembrokeshire, some time ago, and has done no work for seventeen weeks.\nHe has had medical advice and medicine, but with no satisfactory\nresults.... He took it into his head that he would consult the\n'charmer.' I was on my way to visit him and his wife, when I met Mr.\nBlank's bailiff, Pike, who told me he had sent him to T----n that very\nday, and that I should only find the wife at home.... When I got to the\nhouse I found the old man had returned.... He told me whom he had been\nto see, and I naturally wanted to know all about it. The following is\nwhat he told me:\n\n\"'When I got to Gwen Davies'[19] house, I told her about myself, and how\nlong I had been ill, and that I had seen the doctor and had bottles of\nphysic and was no better. She made me sit down in a chair and she laid\neleven little pieces of straw on the table; then she took a long straw\nand waved it several times round my head; having done this she went to\nthe table and removed one of the little bits of straw to another part of\nthe table. When this was done she came back to me and repeated the\nwaving of the long straw, and so on till all the eleven little bits of\nstraw had been removed from where they had been put at the beginning.'\n\n[Footnote 19: The witch's name and that of her patient are of course\nchanged.]\n\n\"I asked whether the 'charmer' had said anything during this\nperformance. 'She mumbled something each time she was at the table, but\nI could not make out the words.'\n\n\"I inquired then, 'What did she say to you when this was over?'\n\n\"David Evans replied that she said that he would recover, but that it\nwould be a long time....\n\n\"'What advice did she give you as to what you should eat, drink, and\navoid?'\n\n\"'Eat all you can get,' she told him, 'but no doctor's stuff, and no\ndrink.' My last inquiry was, 'Did you give her anything?'\n\n\"'No,' said the old man, 'she would take nothing.' I think I may safely\nsay this is a properly authenticated narrative.\"\n\nTo this account my friend a few days later added the following\npostscript.\n\n\"To add something to my last letter. I met our Archdeacon ... on Friday,\nand was telling him about the 'White Witch of T----n'; he had heard of\nher when he was Vicar of L----n; his account of her proceedings is\nslightly different from what I wrote to you;--the little bits of straw\nare more than eleven, and she moves them, not on a table, but on two\nchairs, transferring them from one to the other; and what the old man\ndescribed as 'mumbling' is that she repeats passages from the Bible.\nThis latter fact connects, in my mind, her 'hanky-panky' with the old\nceremony of 'touching' for the King's Evil.\"\n\nThe slight discrepancy in the details of the witch's proceedings in\nnowise detracts from the central, most interesting fact, that such\nprofessional \"charmers\" should be still resorted to in the rural\ndistricts of Wales by invalids having apparently every faith in their\nability to work cures.\n\nIt was the Rector of Llaw----n who kindly gave me many particulars of a\nvery famous \"wise man\" known as Harries of Caio. These are real names;\nCaio is a parish in Carmarthenshire, and my clerical friend had formerly\nbeen Vicar there, though subsequent to Harries' death, which occurred\nsome years ago. But he is well remembered and talked of in the country,\nand if all tales told of him are true he must have possessed\nconsiderable psychic powers, which in these days would by no means be\nthought supernatural by enlightened people, but which thirty or forty\nyears ago would most certainly have impressed and awed an ignorant\npeasantry. Harries is described as a fine-looking man with a long beard\nand remarkably bushy eyebrows. He would occasionally tramp the country,\ncarrying an enormous volume of astrological lore under his arm,\nleather-bound, with a strong lock attached. This, he said, was to\nprevent ignorant people reading the charms contained in the book, and\nthereby raising evil spirits.\n\nAlthough often consulted as a healer it was on his powers as a seer or\nprophet that Harries' fame chiefly rested. If any one had a relation ill\nor in trouble, he would go to the wizard and ask what his friend's fate\nwould be. Harries then put himself into a trance, and when he came out\nof it would say, \"I am sorry for you, but your friend will die,\" or \"he\nwill recover,\" as the case might be.\n\nBut the most interesting story connected with Harries of Caio, and one\nwhich the Rector of Llaw----n had heard on excellent authority, is as\nfollows: A certain man in Carmarthenshire started one day to walk over\nthe hills to Breconshire on some farming business. He did not return\nwhen expected; time went by, and his friends became alarmed and made\ninquiries, but to no purpose; nothing could be heard about him. At last\nthe police were called in, but they were equally unsuccessful, and after\nmany weeks had passed without news of the missing man, his relations\ndetermined as a last resource to apply to the wizard of Caio. So a\ndeputation of them went to his house, and having stated the purpose of\ntheir visit were told by Harries that he could give them the information\nthey sought. \"But,\" he added solemnly and with great feeling, \"I am\nsorry to tell you that your friend is no longer alive. If you cross the\nmountain between Llandovery and Brecon your path will lead you past a\nruined house, and near that house there is a large and solitary tree.\nDig at the foot of that tree and you will find him whom you seek.\" These\nwords of gloomy import only crystallised the feelings of vague\nforeboding already in the minds of the inquirers, who, after a short\nconsultation, determined to test the truth of the wizard's information.\nA small party was formed, who proceeded, according to the seer's\ndirections, along the lonely track that led over the mountain to Brecon,\nthe way by which it was known their friend had intended to travel. After\na while they came to a ruined cottage, with a large tree close\nby--landmarks probably known to most of them. Dead leaves covered the\nground beneath the tree, but on raking these aside it was at once seen\nthat the earth had been lately disturbed, and on digging deep below\nHarries' words were sadly verified by the searchers, who did indeed\ndiscover the body of their friend. That a crime had been committed was\nabundantly clear, but by whom has remained a mystery to this day, nor\nwas any ordinary explanation ever sufficient to account for Harries'\nextraordinary information on the subject, all inquiry--and also his high\ncharacter--precluding the most remote suspicion of his being in any way\nconnected with such a misdeed.\n\nAfter Harries' death his \"magic books\" were sold, and are now in the\npossession of the Registrar of the Welsh University College at\nAberystwith.\n\nMention of Llandovery reminds me of a celebrated \"Curse story\" connected\nwith Cardiganshire, but which has been so often the theme of abler pens\nthan mine that I shall do little more than refer to it here. Briefly it\nis this. In the seventeenth century, Maesyfelin Hall, a large house some\nfew miles from Lampeter, was the centre of hospitality and culture in\nCardiganshire. Judge Marmaduke Lloyd, owner of the house and great\nestates, was universally known and respected in South Wales, counting\namong his intimate friends the well-known Vicar Pritchard of Llandovery,\nwhose book, \"Canwyll y Cymru\" (The Welshman's Candle), is still much\nprized for its quaintly pious teaching by all religious Welsh people.\nThis clergyman had a son, Samuel, who seems to have been a frequent and\nwelcome visitor at Maesyfelin, until a day came when a terrible tragedy\noccurred. The young man's body, bearing evidence that he had been foully\ndone to death, was found floating in the river Teify, and dark must have\nbeen the suspicions of his grief-stricken parent when he could pen words\nsuch as the following, fraught with deadly enmity towards his former\nfriends:\n\n    \"The curse of God on Maesyfelin fall,\n    On root of every tree, on stone of wall,\n    Because the flower of fair Llandovery town,\n    Was headlong cast in Teivi's flood to drown.\"\n\nOr in the original Welsh:\n\n    \"Melldith Duw ar Maesyfelin\n    Ar bob carreg, dan bob gwreiddyn,\n    Am daflu blodeu tref Llandyfri\n    Ar ei ben i Deifi i foddi.\"\n\nTradition asserts that Samuel Pritchard met his death in some brawl\narising from the discovery of his persistence in some prohibited love\naffair; but the whole story rests on the most slender evidence, and\nbeyond the fact that he lost his life by violence, somewhere between\nLampeter and Llandovery, there is nothing to prove that the family of\nMaesyfelin had any share at all in the dark deed. However, not many\ngenerations passed before it seemed as if the Vicar's words had indeed\ntaken effect, for after Sir Marmaduke's death, the estate of Maesyfelin\nwas gradually weakened by the extravagance of his descendants, and\nfinally what was left of the land passed through marriage into the\npossession of the Lloyds of Peterwell in the year 1750. Maesyfelin Hall\nwas left empty, and time and neglect have most literally fulfilled to\nthe letter the curse pronounced by Vicar Pritchard nearly three hundred\nyears ago. Not an unusual history, and one that might probably be true\nof many an old and extinct family in Great Britain. But in Cardiganshire\nthe reverses and final extinction of the Lloyds of Maesyfelin were\nalways ascribed to the effect of the pious Vicar's malison. Oddly\nenough, that curse seemed to follow the name of Lloyd, for the family of\nPeterwell had no better luck with the Maesyfelin estates than the\noriginal owners. At the death of John Lloyd of Peterwell, his great\nproperty, including Maesyfelin, went to his brother Herbert, who was\nmade a baronet in 1763, and sat in Parliament for seven years. He was a\nman of extravagant tastes and imperious temper, and seems to have ruled\nlike a dictator in his own neighbourhood. Many and interesting are the\ntales still told of him and his ways, and the manner of his death and\nburial were as sensational as his career through life might lead one to\nexpect. But all that is \"another story,\" and here it is sufficient to\nsay that, Sir Herbert Lloyd dying deeply in debt and without\ndescendants, his heavily mortgaged lands passed to strangers and were\ndivided, while his great house of Peterwell, with its \"four gilded\ndomes,\" became, like Maesyfelin, a ruin, of which only the broken walls\nremain to tell of former splendours. And the famous curse, having\nfulfilled its end, is now forgotten, or remembered in the district only\nas an interesting tradition.\n\nA Scotch friend once told me of a curse that had been laid upon her own\nfamily by three Highlanders. These men were implicated in the '45\nRebellion, and were handed over to the Duke of Cumberland by an ancestor\nof my friend, a man whose sympathies were Hanoverian, and the owner of\nconsiderable property. The Highlanders were duly condemned and executed,\nbut before they died they solemnly cursed their enemy, prophesying that\nhis descendants in the third generation should not possess an acre of\nland. This prophecy was fulfilled to the letter; and my friend tells me\nthat a relation of hers has talked with a very old woman who came from\nthe same part of the country, and who spoke of the curse and its origin\nas well-known facts.\n\nConnected with this subject of family curses is a story I heard not\nlong ago, of a certain country house in one of the Eastern Counties. On\nthe landing of the principal staircase of this house there might be\nseen, a few years since, a glass case covered by a curtain, which, if\ndrawn, revealed the waxen effigy of a child, terribly wasted and\nemaciated, lying on her side as if asleep. It was described to me as so\nrealistic as to be quite horrible, and it is apparent that some very\nstrong reason must have existed for keeping so unpleasant an object in\nsuch a thoroughfare of the house. Its history is this. Some generations\nago, the wife of the owner of the place died, leaving motherless a\nlittle girl. The father soon married again, giving his child a cruel\nstepmother, who, in her husband's absence from home, so ill-treated and\nstarved the poor little girl that very soon after her father's return\nshe died. It is said that the facts of his wife's cruelty reached the\nfather's ears, and in order that he might punish her with perpetual\nremorse, he had a wax model made of his child exactly as she appeared in\ndeath, and placed it conspicuously on the staircase landing, where his\nwife must see it whenever she went up or down stairs. He further\ndirected in his will that the model should never be removed from its\nplace, adding that if it were, _a curse_ should fall on house and\nfamily. So, covered in later years by a curtain, the effigy remained\nuntil a day arrived in quite recent times, when the family then in\npossession were giving a dance, and for some reason had the case\ncontaining the wax-work carried downstairs and put in an outhouse. But\nmark what happened. That very night occurred a shock of earthquake\nviolent enough to cause part of the house to fall down! Very likely mere\ncoincidence; but as it _might_ have been the working of the curse\nconsequent on the removal of the case, it was thought advisable to\nrestore the grisly relic to its former position, where, as far as my\ninformant knew, it may be seen to this day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nODD NOTES\n\n    \"Plain and more plain, the unsubstantial Sprite\n    To his astonish'd gaze each moment grew;\n    Ghastly and gaunt, it reared its shadowy height,\n    Of more than mortal seeming to the view,\n    And round its long, thin, bony fingers drew\n    A tatter'd winding-sheet, of course _all white_.\"\n\n\nIn that very interesting book, \"John Silence,\" Mr. Algernon Blackwood\nremarks that cats seem to possess a peculiar affinity for the Unknown,\nand that while dogs are invariably terrified by anything in the nature\nof occult phenomena, cats, on the contrary, are soothed and pleased.\n\nPerhaps that is why cats have so often figured in history and fiction as\ncompanions of sorcerers and witches; and perhaps it was a knowledge of\ntheir occult sympathies that helped to render these animals sacred to\nthe ancient Egyptians. These are only speculations, but there is no\ndoubt that cats are, in fact, queer and sphinx-like creatures; capable\nmoreover of inspiring an extraordinary dread and dislike (quite out of\nproportion to their size and character) in some people. It is said that\nLord Roberts, bravest of Generals, cannot stand the sight of a cat. I\nhave known personally at least two people who have the same loathing and\nfear; and one of these individuals can tell if a cat is anywhere near\nwithout either seeing or hearing it; and I have seen this exemplified\nwhen my friend has been assured--in good faith--that there was not a cat\nin the house, much less in the room. But on search being made a cat was\nfound--though no one knew how it got there. And this curious instance of\nperception by some \"sixth sense\" reminds me of an odd thing I was told\nabout a man who, until quite lately, was employed as a verger in Ely\nCathedral. This man, in some unknown way, could always tell if there\nwere any person in the Cathedral, although he could neither see, feel,\nnor hear them. It is said that this extraordinary faculty was tested\nover and over again, but the verger was never mistaken.\n\nBut to return to our friend Puss; another of her funny characteristics\nis, that she always seems to seek out the people who dislike her, and\nappears to desire their friendship, contrary to her usual habit with\nstrangers, with whom she is generally coy and repellent. Altogether it\nis not difficult to credit cats with some degree of psychic power, and\nprobably few of us would object to their comfortable Tabbies or languid\nPersians seeing ghosts and spirits if they are able to. But when it\ncomes to a cat being itself a ghost, the idea is somehow horribly\nuncanny. Yet I know a lady who for a long while occupied a house in\nDublin where there was a ghost cat. I had heard a vague rumour of this,\nand much interested, I wrote to Miss M----n for information. She replied\n(dated October 17, 1907): \"With regard to my 'ghost cat' I have no story\nto tell, or cause for its appearance. For some time my sister and I were\nthe only people who saw it, but of late my niece, and also different\nfriends I have had staying with me, have also seen it. It is always just\nwalking under a table or chair when seen, which may account for neither\nits head nor front portion of its body ever having been seen. It is\ncoal-black. For many years when it used to appear, I had no black cat,\nbut have had one now for some time, so don't notice the ghost one so\nmuch, as we don't bother to notice whether it is the real or the\nsupernatural, but know for a fact it has been seen several times this\nyear. I am sorry I can't give you any further details, but not being a\nbeliever in ghosts, I am afraid I pay very little attention to my\nfriendly cat.\"\n\nOne would like to know the _raison d'\u00eatre_ of that little feline\nspectre, and there is doubtless some story connected with it that would\naccount for its presence could we but look back far enough into the\nhistories of former tenants of the house. But in a city or town, strange\nhappenings connected with any particular family are more quickly\nforgotten than in the country, where such traditions are apt to linger\nfar longer in the memories of the local inhabitants. In a town, one is\ntold \"such and such a house is haunted\"; but if you ask why and how\nhaunted, you will generally meet with \"I don't know\" in reply. Whereas\nin the country, if a house acquires a \"haunted\" reputation, there is\nmostly chapter and verse for its particular kind of ghost, and often a\nstory told to account for the haunting.\n\nBut ghostly dogs are, to my mind, quite as unpleasant as ghostly cats,\nand there is something very disagreeable, I think, about the following\nexperience of a person whom we will temporarily christen Mr. Archer. He\nwas a youngish man of strongly psychic temperament, and in the intervals\nof business was accustomed to dabble pretty freely in occult matters of\nall kinds. It happened once that he went to stay in a large northern\ncity, where he had some spiritualist friends, and one evening he and\nthese people arranged to hold a s\u00e9ance. Forgetting all about such a\nmundane affair as dinner, they \"sat\" for hours, but with no result; they\ncould get no manifestations, and at last gave up the attempt, Archer\nreturning weary and disappointed to his hotel. It was then very late, so\ngoing to his room, he locked the door, and proceeded to get ready for\nbed. Suddenly he heard a very queer noise--a sort of rustling and\nscrambling; and as he turned quickly to see where it came from, a large,\nblack dog darted from under the bed. Archer felt much annoyed at what he\nconsidered the carelessness of the hotel servants in shutting the\nanimal into his room, and he promptly rushed at it with the intention of\nturning it out into the passage. But before he could reach it, the dog\nwalked to the locked door and simply vanished or melted through the\npanels, leaving Archer in a state of bewilderment hard to describe. The\nincident as I heard it goes no further. But as Archer was presumably\naccustomed to investigating supernatural phenomena, we may suppose that\nhe made full inquiries in the hotel as to a possible real dog, or an\nalready known ghostly one, though apparently without satisfaction. He\ntold the friend from whom I had the story that he had no shadow of doubt\nas to his having really seen the thing, and that it disappeared in the\nunusual manner related, and that, whatever the dog may have been, it was\nno hallucination. Could it have been possible, I wonder, that the\nfruitless s\u00e9ance was answerable for the creature's appearance? That not\nbeing able to raise the powers they wished, the sitters had unwittingly\nattracted some being from a lower plane, which Archer was able to\nvisualise, owing to the mental effects produced by a long fast and\nbodily fatigue, joined to his peculiar temperament. For there is no\ndoubt that they who deliberately set to work to \"raise spirits\" must\ntake their chance of the character of such \"demons\" (to use the ancient\nname) as respond to the call.\n\nTraditions concerning mysterious \"bogies,\" elementals, or spirits--call\nthem what we will--supposed to haunt certain localities, are to be\nheard of in many parts of Great Britain. In Wales such legends have\nalways abounded, and innumerable are the tales of bogies said to\nfrequent lonely roads, and especially the neighbourhood of bridges. Many\nof these stories were no doubt invented for the purpose of frightening\nignorant people and children, while others had their origin in the\nbrains of intoxicated individuals returning late at night from fair or\nfuneral. Yet it is curious how these old tales cling. There is a bridge\nspanning a ravine or dingle, about a mile from my own home, which had\nsuch an evil reputation for being haunted that until quite recent years\nno local postboy or fly-driver would take his horses over it after dark,\nfor fear of the bogey that was said to sit on the parapet at night, or\nthat,\n\n    \"Half seen by fits, by fits half heard,\"\n\nwould glide tall and menacing across the road just where the hill was\nsteepest, and the gloom of overhanging trees most impenetrable.\n\nOnly the other day, a Merionethshire woman told me of an extraordinary\napparition seen by two men whom she knew well, on the bridge in her\nnative village. One of these men was a chapel deacon, respected and\nrespectable, and, according to my friend, quite incapable of\nmisrepresenting facts. Their houses were separated by the bridge, and on\na certain evening, when one man had been visiting the other, he said\njokingly to his friend, \"Now, John, you must come out and see me home,\nfor I'm afraid to cross the bridge alone.\" So the two started together.\nIt was a bright moonlight night, and arrived on the bridge, what should\nthey see but the figure of an enormous man, clad in white, standing in\nthe middle of the road! Remembrance of their jesting words, spoken only\na few minutes before, flashed across the deacon's memory, and with their\nhearts in their mouths they stood rooted to the spot. But the figure,\nwhatever it was, made no movement, and at last with shaking limbs and\nclammy brows, they stole past it in safety. Then came the dilemma. How\nwas he who had acted escort to reach his own home across the bridge\nalone?\n\nMy informant said it was afterwards rumoured that the two friends spent\nthe whole night escorting each other home. For neither dared ever return\nalone. But in fact all they themselves really said when questioned was,\nthat they had waited what seemed to them an interminable time before the\nShape which they watched vanished quite suddenly and never reappeared.\n\nOf course this tale is capable of more than one humorous interpretation,\nsuch as that of an evening spent in overmuch good-fellowship, or as an\nexample of a successful practical joke. But still I give it as it was\ntold me, as an excellent instance of the Welsh \"bogey story,\" of a kind\nthat might, I expect, have been collected by the dozen in our remote\ndistricts twenty or thirty years ago, but are now rapidly being\nforgotten. I have heard of another \"b[^w]cgi\" (as bogey becomes in\nWelsh) of the same type as the above, which used to frequent a\ncross-road some four miles from Newcastle Emlyn, and took pleasure in\nfrightening respectable people after dark. And still another of these\ncreatures of the night was supposed to haunt the grounds of a house not\nfar from Cardigan, and was known as \"B[^w]cgi chain,\" its appearance\nbeing always accompanied by the noise of clanking chains. This bogey\nseems to have been quite an institution in the neighbourhood, and I\nfancy familiarity with the tradition had bred, if not contempt, at least\ndisregard of poor old \"B[^w]cgi chain.\"\n\nA friend who lives in South Cardiganshire wrote to me of a man in her\nown neighbourhood--still living--who declared he had once seen \"the evil\nspirit\" of a neighbour, \"at dawn, near a limekiln, a creature 'twixt dog\nand calf, and with lolloping gait, not fierce, but evil to look at, for\nthe Welsh believe that evil people can take the form of creatures and\nroam about, for no good of course. And though they never name it, and\nwould deny it to you or me, yet secretly, behind closed doors, they\nwhisper of the different forms taken by the evil spirits of neighbours\nwho are workers of darkness.\"\n\nPersonally I have never come across this belief in Wales, but it is most\nlikely the remains of a very ancient superstition peculiar to that\ndistrict, just as the belief in the \"Tanwe\" (to which I alluded in a\nformer chapter) seems to have been localised in North Cardiganshire.\n\nOf course this idea of the spirit of a living person roaming about to\nwork wickedness can be nothing more nor less than a variation of the\nWere-wolf or Loup-garou legend, which from time immemorial has been\nbelieved throughout almost all Europe, and, it is said, still lingers in\nremote parts of France, and particularly Brittany. Now, closely related\nin race as the Welsh are to the Bretons, it is not hard to imagine that\nthe superstitions and beliefs of both nations have had their origin in a\ncommon stock, taking us back to those far-away times when the great\nCeltic tribes were young. Local circumstances, religious influences, and\ndifferences of education have combined in the course of centuries to\ndetermine the survival or decay of these old traditions in both\ncountries, and probably the \"loup-garou\" ceased to be generally heard of\nin Wales many hundreds of years ago. But everybody who has studied even\nslightly the subject of folk-lore and superstition, knows how long\nfragments of some ancient belief (often so tattered as to be almost\nunrecognisable) will be found obstinately preserved in perhaps quite a\nsmall district, among a few people in whom such a belief appears as an\ninstinct which yields but slowly before the spread of modern education.\nAnd endeavouring to follow these dwindling rivulets of strange old-world\nideas to their source is one of the most fascinating subjects of\nspeculation in the world.\n\nHowever, all this is digression, and we must come back to our Welsh\nbogies, for to omit mention of the G[^w]rach or Cyhoeraeth, which is the\nmost terrible of them all, would be unpardonable. Fortunately, to see or\nhear one of these spectres seems to be very rare. Howells, in his\n\"Cambrian Superstitions,\" says that the Cyhoeraeth is a being with\ndishevelled hair, long black teeth, lank withered arms, a frightful\nvoice, and cadaverous appearance. \"Its shriek is described as having\nsuch an effect as literally to freeze the blood in the veins of those\nwho heard it, and was never uttered except when the ghost came to a\ncross-road or went by some water, which she splashed with her hands ...\nexclaiming 'Oh, oh fyn g[^w]r, fyn g[^w]r' (my husband, my husband), or\nsometimes the cry would be 'my wife, my wife,' or 'my child.' Of course\nthis doleful plaint boded ill for the relations of those who were\nunlucky enough to hear it, and if the cry were merely an inarticulate\nscream it was supposed to mean the hearer's own death.\"\n\nThe wailing cry of the Welsh Cyhoeraeth reminds one of the Irish banshee\nlegends; and though I have never so far come across any one who has\nseen or heard the Cyhoeraeth, yet two people in Wales have told me of\ndeath warnings conveyed by what they called \"banshees.\"\n\nOne story concerns a Welsh lady, Miss W----, who happened to be staying\nat an hotel at Bangor, in North Wales, and was awakened one night by a\nhideous, wailing cry. Much alarmed, she got up, and as she reached the\nwindow (from whence the sound came) saw slowly and distinctly cross it\nthe shadow of some great flying creature, while the dreadful cry died\ngradually away. Miss W---- felt half frozen with fear, but managed to\nopen the window and look into the street. Nothing was to be seen; but\nafterwards, as she lay awake, trying to account for what she had seen\nand heard, a possible, though perhaps far-fetched solution, occurred to\nher.\n\nNext morning, when breakfasting, she asked the waiter whether he knew if\nany Irish person in the house or street had died. The man looked rather\nsurprised at the question, and said \"No.\" Presently, however, he came\nhurrying back to Miss W---- and said \"Colonel F.,\" mentioning a\nwell-known name, \"a gentleman from Ireland, who has been staying here\nvery ill for some time, died last night.\"\n\nMiss W---- was always firmly convinced that what she heard and saw that\nnight at Bangor were the shadow and the warning cry of the Colonel's\nfamily banshee.\n\nThe other instance was told me by a friend, who declared that being\nawakened one night when staying in the town of Cardigan by an\nextraordinary and startling noise at his window, he jumped up, threw\nopen the window and looked out. And there, _flying_ down the street he\nsaw what he called \"a banshee\"-like spectre \"of horror indescribable,\nwhich beat its way slowly past the silent houses till it disappeared in\nthe gloom beyond.\" It returned no more, and the rest of the night passed\nundisturbed; but on receiving unexpected news next day of the death of a\ngreat friend, my informant could not help thinking of the extraordinary\nincident, and wondering if the \"banshee\" had brought a warning.\n\nIt is a common belief in Wales that the screeching of barn-owls close to\na house is a very bad sign, betokening the approach of death, and\ncertainly it requires no great effort of the imagination to produce a\nshudder of foreboding as the gloom of an autumn evening is suddenly rent\nby the weird cry. And though I am no believer in what is of course a\nmere superstition, yet the recollection of it came to my mind on an\noccasion when I happened to be staying at a country house where a death\noccurred somewhat unexpectedly. I well remember the incessant and\nextraordinary noise made by the owls during a few evenings immediately\nbefore and after the event, shriek following shriek, often appearing to\nbe just outside the windows; and though every one knew it was only the\nowls, yet it would be difficult to describe the uncanny, disturbing\neffect produced on one's mind by such an unearthly-sounding clamour.\nThis was only coincidence; but whether regarded as prophetic or not, the\n\"gloom-bird's hated screech,\" as Keats calls it, is not a cheerful\nsound, and seems a fitting accompaniment to that hour\n\n    \"In the dead vast and middle of the night\n    When churchyards yawn.\"\n\nMysterious knockings and taps, or the sound of an invisible horse's\nhoofs stopping at the door, are also thought in Wales to be death omens.\nIt is said that in the old days of lead-mining in Cardiganshire, the\nminers always used to declare that to hear \"the knockers\" at work was \"a\nsure sign\" of an accident coming.\n\nI once heard a story about a woman belonging to a parish not far from my\nown home, who went with her husband to live in Glamorganshire, where he\nheard of work at Pontypridd, to which town he betook himself, leaving\nhis wife at Dowlais. But a terrible accident happened in the mine where\nthe man worked, and he was killed. His body was brought back to his\nwife's house at Dowlais, and as the coffin was carried into one of the\nupstairs rooms, it was carelessly allowed to knock noisily against the\ndoor. The widow afterwards told her friends that two nights before the\naccident happened she had been awakened in that very room, by a loud\nsound exactly like that caused by the bumping of the coffin, and could\nnot imagine what had made such an odd noise. She was thenceforward\nconvinced that a premonitory sound of the coffin being carried into the\nroom had been sent her as a \"warning.\"\n\nThere is a house I know very well in South Wales where a curious sound,\nalways supposed to be of \"ghostly\" origin, used to be heard occasionally\nby a lady who lived there for a few years. She described it as the noise\n\"of a person digging a grave,\" or using a pick-axe for that purpose, and\nsaid it was most horrible and gruesome to hear. It appeared to come from\njust outside the drawing-room windows, yet nothing was to be seen if one\nlooked out. Other tenants have come and gone since that lady's time, and\nI have never heard again of the ghostly grave-digger. But mysterious\nfootsteps have been heard in that house quite lately, and by three\npeople who say they do not \"believe in ghosts\"; one of them, however,\nadmitted to me that in spite of close investigation he was utterly\nunable to account for the soft footfalls he most certainly heard. But it\nmay well be that invisible presences still linger about a place which in\nolden times was the site of a little settlement of monks, though nothing\nnow remains but the name to remind us of the fact.[20]\n\n[Footnote 20: There is a tradition connected with this house concerning\na former owner who was a miser and died about a century ago, to the\neffect that his spirit is imprisoned within a certain rock on the coast\nabout two miles away, where he is doomed to stay until he has picked his\nway out with a pin!]\n\nWhile on the subject of warnings and death omens, I may mention a\ncurious tradition connected with an old church I know in Pembrokeshire.\nIn a corner of the building is kept the bier used at funerals; and it is\nreported that always just before any death occurs in the parish, this\nbier is heard to creak loudly, as though a heavy burden had been laid\nupon it. The churchyard adjoining has also a haunted reputation, and I\nhave been told that not even a tramp would willingly pass its gates\nafter dark.\n\nAnother death warning is the tolling--by unseen hands--of the bell of\nBlaenporth Church (in Cardiganshire). This eerie sound was said to be\nalways heard at midday and midnight just before the death of any\nparishioner of importance. But as far as I can gather, the Blaenporth\nbell has ceased to toll its warnings; for an inhabitant of the parish,\nwho knows the country people and their ideas very well, told me she had\nnever heard of the mysterious tolling, and thought it must be a dead\ntradition. But it is a picturesque one, and so characteristic of Celtic\nideas, ever interpreting as signs and portents the slightest incident\nthat happens to break the ordinary routine of life, that I thought it\nworth recording here.\n\nAnother superstition (certainly not picturesque), which I have never\nheard of but in Cardiganshire, was that it was very unlucky to bury the\nbodies of any cattle that happened to be found dead in the fields! What\nidea can have been connected with such an unsanitary prejudice I cannot\nimagine.\n\nWhen reading a paper at a local antiquarian meeting some few weeks ago,\nthe Vicar of Lledrod,[21] Mr. H. M. Williams, referred to the origin of\nthe Welsh word \"Croesaw,\" which means \"welcome\"; and in explanation he\nrelated how he came to realise that the word was derived from the noun\n_croes_ (a cross). He said: \"A farmer's wife, whenever I visited her\nhouse, as soon as she saw me at the door, would take some instrument of\niron, such as a poker or knitting-needle, and ceremoniously describe a\ncross on the hearth, and would afterwards address me with the words\n'Croesaw i' chwi, syr.' ('Welcome to you, sir.') This custom existed at\nLlanddeusant, Carmarthenshire, where I lived twenty years ago.\"\n\n[Footnote 21: A Cardiganshire parish.]\n\nThis strikes me as one of the most curious survivals of an ancient\nsuperstition that I have heard of in Wales. Of course there can be no\ndoubt as to the word \"croesaw\" being derived from the \"croes\" made as\ndescribed above; but the question is, why was that cross made at all?\nThe Vicar, who is a scholar and learned antiquary, and whose views\nshould therefore be regarded with respect, seemed to think that the\ncross was a sort of sign and seal of welcome, as a man in old days would\nset his mark--a cross--to anything as a signification of approval and\naffirmation. Perhaps that is so; but my own idea (advanced with all\ndiffidence) is that the cross had a far different meaning, and that it\nhad its origin in the medi\u00e6val dread of the \"evil eye.\" A stranger\ncoming to the house must ever be welcomed according to the laws of Welsh\nhospitality, and he might very likely be quite guiltless of the uncanny\npower to \"ill-wish\" or \"overlook.\" But to avoid risks, it was better to\nuse some simple charm, before bidding the visitor enter, and what could\nbe more powerful against malign influences than the holy symbol of the\ncross quickly made in the ashes, where it could be as easily obliterated\nthe next moment, and so wound nobody's feelings. Again, the use of the\npoker or knitting-needle for the rite seems to be a remnant of the old\nuniversal belief that witches, evil spirits, and ghosts hated iron, and\ncannot harm a person protected by that metal. Such at least is my\nexplanation of a most interesting local custom, which has become\nmechanical nowadays--just as many of us cross ourselves when we see a\nmagpie, without knowing why--and perhaps by this time has disappeared\naltogether.\n\nMr. Williams tells me he has never met with this custom in\nCardiganshire, but says that a curious little ceremony used to be\nperformed, about fifty years ago, by the children of the parish of\nVerwig, near Cardigan. \"As the children were going home from school, at\na cross-road before parting, one of the elder ones would describe a\ncross on the road and solemnly utter the following holy wish:\n\n                \"Gris Groes,\n    Myn Un, ie, Myn Un, aed mys moes.\"\n\nRendered in English this is:\n\n                      \"Christ's Cross\n    By the Holy One, yea by the Holy One, may gentle manners prevail.\"\n\nWhat the quaint little ceremony meant it is hard to say, and no doubt\nthe children themselves could have given no reason for its performance,\nexcept that \"they always did it.\" But it was a pretty idea, whatever its\nesoteric meaning, which would probably lead us back to the days when\nWales was Roman Catholic, and nearly all instruction, both as regards\nbook-learning and manners, in the hands of priests and monks. Then it is\nnot difficult to imagine some such simple charm or invocation taught his\nwild scholars by the gentle schoolmaster-monk of the local monastery, to\nhelp carry the peace of the cloister home with them, and as a safeguard\nagainst the emissaries of Satan, in whose active power to work ill our\nforefathers so firmly believed. And it may be that the slight element of\nmystery--always attractive to childish minds--connected with the making\nof the cross may have helped to preserve the little custom, when one\ndependent on words alone would more readily have been forgotten.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nCONCLUSION\n\n    \"The wind-borne mirroring Soul:\n    A thousand glimpses wins,\n    And never sees a whole.\"\n\n\nIt is easier to write the title of this chapter than its contents. For\nwhat general conclusion can be satisfactory, regarding all these\ninstances of the supernatural? Every one has his own ideas about them,\nranging from the sceptic's point of view to that of the most credulous\nbeliever, both attitudes of mind to be equally deprecated when dealing\nwith occult phenomena. However, such extremes of opinion are becoming\nrare, while the number of people who preserve an open mind on such\nsubjects is ever increasing, and this, I venture to think, is the right\nway of regarding \"the Unknown.\" For blind negation has never enlightened\nany one, while uncritical acceptance of unsubstantiated statements is\nequally prejudicial to real knowledge. Of course, this attitude of\ntoleration, and, as it were, awaiting further revelation, is essentially\na modern one. Our forefathers of three or four hundred years ago would\nhave thought us poor creatures for holding our judgment in suspense.\nMost people then believed in \"ghosts\" and held it no shame to do so;\nwhile the minority of the superior who disbelieved took no pains to\ndissemble their scorn and contempt for those who did. There was never\nany attempt at impartial investigation of supernatural occurrences; one\nsection would have had neither the courage nor intelligence necessary,\nwhile the other would have scorned the undertaking. So Superstition's\nsway remained unchecked for many a long century, and though its power\nbegan to dwindle directly education became a systematic affair amongst\ncivilised nations, yet it is only in recent years that one has begun to\nforesee a time when its terrors will have disappeared for good and all.\nBecause it is only within the last few decades that men of great and\ntrained intellect have discovered that the methods of science and law\napply as perfectly in the investigation of psychic as in material\nphenomena; and that discovery once made, I cannot help thinking that it\nis merely a matter of time before mankind penetrates the mystery of the\nUnseen, though, as I have said before, this will not happen in our\ngeneration. At present we are only at the beginnings of things; learning\nthe alphabet of a whole new series of experiences, one of which is\ntelepathy, or thought communicating thought, without aid of the ordinary\nsenses. We know this wonderful power does exist, reliable experiment has\nproved it, but so far we know little more, and can only guess that some\nminds in some way--probably unknown to themselves--possess the\nmysterious faculty of setting in motion vibrations that travel along a\nmedium finer and rarer far than the famous Hertzian waves. But presently\nthe laws that govern such vibrations will be discovered, and mind will\nthen speak to mind at will, even across half the world. And telepathy,\nwhich we are still apt to think of as something almost supernatural,\nwill then be as much a matter of course as wireless telegraphy is in our\nday.\n\nHowever, at present we are only on the threshold of these marvels, and\nwe who are not engaged in the task of occult discovery can still be\ninterested and entertained by \"ghost stories\" _as_ ghost stories, and\ncan discuss various points and form our own ideas about them. And there\nis one feature common to a great many of these supernatural tales and\nincidents which I think must strike everybody, whether believers or\nsceptics, and that is their apparent lack of purpose. There are, as we\nhave seen, ghostly happenings which come as \"warnings,\" though, as I\nhave remarked in a former chapter, these warnings seldom appear to avert\ndisaster. But in nine cases out of ten odd things are seen or heard, and\nnothing particular happens afterwards. The question--and a puzzling\none--is, why should these things occur at all? Why should such a\ntremendous reversal of the laws which ordinarily govern our human\nenvironment take place, as is implied by, let us say, the extraordinary\nexperience of Miss Travers at Glanwern, related in Chapter III? Of\ncourse in this volume I have tried to collect ghost stories that _did_\nmean something, as naturally they are the more interesting type of\nincident. But I have heard innumerable instances of people hearing and\nseeing strange things, followed by no particular consequences. Probably\nevery one knows the kind of tale, interesting to the person concerned,\nbut rather dull when related.\n\nPerhaps the following illustration will help us to understand these\ninconsequent manifestations a little better. Let us imagine ourselves as\nthe audience in a huge, well-lighted theatre. At least the auditorium is\nlit up, but the vast stage is in complete darkness, with a great shadowy\ncurtain hiding anything that may be taking place behind it from our\neyes. In fact, nobody troubles much about the stage at all, every one is\ntalking and thinking of other things and few people so much as glance\ntowards the curtain, though those who do dimly feel that there really is\na play going on behind it, and some of us wish, in a vague sort of way,\nthat we could know what it is. But sometimes the curtain goes up for a\nmoment, and then, if any one is looking, he sees a glimpse of the play;\nand, not knowing what has come before or what is to follow, it seems\nrather meaningless, or even alarming. Sometimes, too, an actor will\nappear on the stage, or come amongst the audience with a message for one\nor a group of them, but only the few can see him, and his message is not\nalways intelligible to them. Some bold people, tired of looking at the\nimpenetrable curtain, have ventured to explore behind it, and if they\nescaped the dangers so braved, have tried to impart their experiences to\ntheir friends when they returned. But their accounts are often received\nwith incredulity or lukewarm interest, some even asserting that there is\nreally nothing at all behind the curtain, and that the explorers have\nmerely been the victims of their own imaginations. And this they say,\nknowing quite well that when \"carriages are called\" they and every one\nelse will have to leave the house by way of the dark stage, and be\nobliged to go behind the scenes and learn the mystery that the curtain\nhides.\n\nIn this simple illustration I have tried to convey the idea of a\nlife--or perhaps I should rather say a Consciousness--coincident and\nconnected with this life that we know, but separated from it by a\ndifference of consciousness which the majority of us are not able at\npresent to bridge. A few have done so, either by a system of mystic\ntraining, or by the natural gift of the \"sixth sense,\" clairvoyance,\nsecond sight, whatever we like to call it, which in olden days often\ncaused its possessors to be classed as magicians and witches. And if we\ngrasp this idea of a consciousness, interwoven and yet by matter\nseparated from this life, of which only a few of us can get glimpses\nfrom time to time, but which is as absolutely real, perhaps more so than\nthe life we live here, it will help us enormously to understand the\nmeaning of psychic phenomena, or what we call \"ghost stories.\" Because\nwe shall realise that there is _continuity_ behind the veil which hides\nthe Unseen, just as there is continuity in this life, and that the law\nof cause and effect goes with us \"behind the scenes,\" just as it governs\nour present existence. So that we must cease to think of any\nsupernatural incident as irrelevant or inconsequent, even if it means\nnothing to ourselves. It is just a glimpse--seen \"through a glass\ndarkly\"--of a life organised on lines at present unfamiliar to our own,\nand infused with a meaning which we cannot trace, and which we yet feel\nhas the most intimate connection with our life here.\n\nHowever, these are paths of metaphysics, in which it is not well to\nlinger, unless one can give time and all one's thoughts to their\nexploration. A little knowledge about occult matters is worse than\nuseless; it is absolutely dangerous, and every furlong of the road that\nleads to such knowledge should be marked with a red signal, for it is\nstrewn with the wrecked intellects of those who, unequipped, have\nlightly followed its windings.\n\nRegarding the chapters in this book which concern Welsh superstitions,\nthe first idea which occurred to me when reading them over was the\nexceedingly gloomy character of these ancient beliefs. They all seem to\ndwell morbidly on death and its surroundings, ignoring the lighter and\nhappier side of life altogether. And any one who did not know Wales\nmight imagine from reading these tales that the Welsh were a sullen and\nsilent people, given to solitude and brooding. Nothing could be further\nfrom the truth; they are a lively and gregarious race and never seem to\ncease talking amongst themselves. Nobody is fonder of junketing than a\nWelshman or Welshwoman, nothing in the way of an outing comes amiss;\nfairs, eisteddfodau, \"auctions,\" church and chapel festivals, political\nmeetings, anything for a jaunt! But the most important functions of all\nare--funerals. Every one goes to a funeral, and makes it a point of\nhonour to do so, for the more burials you attend in your lifetime, the\ngreater are the number of people who will come to your own obsequies. I\noften think of the characteristic remark addressed by a Welshwoman I\nknew to an English neighbour, who had no taste for gadding, and found\nCardiganshire rather _triste_. \"Well indeed, Mrs. Brown _fach_, I am\nsorry for you; but indeed you should go about to fairs and funerals, and\nenjoy yourself.\"\n\nSo as funerals and the excitement connected with them really occupy a\nlarge place in the minds of the Welsh country-folk, it is perhaps not\nstrange that superstition and folk-lore have collected round the\nsubject and that omens and death warnings should be specially heeded and\nrepeated. Also, in spite of lively manners and gregarious instincts,\nthere is a curious strain of melancholy underlying the Welsh character,\nin common with the other Celtic races; a trait which I do not think any\none can understand unless he has some Celtic blood in his veins. It is\nnot a melancholy which colours the disposition, for most Welsh people\nare cheerful and pleasant companions. Of course there are variations\nfrom the type, and differences of temperament just as in other\nnationalities, but if asked suddenly to name a Welsh characteristic, I\nshould at once mention cheerfulness. And yet they are melancholy; and if\nthis sounds paradoxical, it cannot be helped, because it is true. It is\nthe primitive sadness of an old, old race, the remembrance of\n\n    \"Old unhappy, far-off things,\n    And battles long ago,\"\n\ninherited from tribal ancestors, and the days when life was a struggle\neven to the strong, and elementary passions held undisputed sway. So it\nis that the Welsh character unconsciously responds to all that touches\nthis minor string in its nature, and, as it were, almost enjoys gloom\nand woe. This is the secret of the great religious revivals that from\ntime to time agitate the Principality; the Welsh really relish their\nspiritual wretchedness, and enjoy being miserable sinners (especially in\ncompany!). And well does a revivalist like Evan Roberts understand his\nwork, and the character of his congregations, and know how to twang that\nminor string. Not that I would jest at revivals; in many cases their\ninfluence has been for permanent good, and the kind of people they reach\nand benefit are no doubt those who require a spiritual \"dressing-down\"\noccasionally.\n\nNowadays, as I have said before, belief in corpse-candles, Toili, &c.\nhas very much gone out of fashion amongst the country-folk; the present\ngeneration, having many of them been away to London or the large towns,\nare much too superior to believe such things, and it is difficult to get\nthe old people to talk about them. But it is not so very long ago that\nsuch beliefs were really part of a Welsh person's life, and supernatural\nexperiences only infrequent enough to be interesting. If John Jones\nentered the village inn trembling and perspiring declaring that he had\nseen the Toili--well, he _had_ seen it, and no one thought of\nquestioning his statement, but all fell to wondering \"whose Toili\" it\ncould be. And it was not only among the lower classes that these beliefs\nobtained, their \"betters\" often shared them. The story is still told\nabout here how a neighbouring squire, head of a well-known county\nfamily, saw the Toili in the twilight of a summer's evening, wending its\nway along the road which passed his house to the church.\n\nThe old gentleman who saw the vision has himself been dead for over\nsixty years, but the locality is probably quite unchanged from what it\nmust have been in his day, and I have often thought when passing the\nspot how well the natural surroundings of romantic beauty lent\nthemselves as a setting to any such weird happening, and have tried to\nconjure up the scene in my own mind. To this day it is said that when a\ndeath occurs in that particular family a corpse-light is always seen a\nfew days previously, flickering and quivering up the drive from the\ndirection of the churchyard.\n\nBut very soon all these ancient beliefs will be obliterated in the land\nof Cambria; and though it seems a pity from the picturesque point of\nview, and to lovers of antiquity and folk-lore, yet on the whole it is a\ngood thing. For we who are apt to bewail the passing of the old ideas\noften forget that they frequently went hand in hand with dreadful\nignorance both mental and moral. For instance, belief in witchcraft is\nvery interesting and picturesque to read about in our times, but we\nshould not overlook the terrible consequences of it which took the form\nof torturing and persecuting hundreds of innocent persons only three\nhundred years ago. Read Sir Walter Scott's \"Demonology and Witchcraft\"\nif you want to know what the result of a \"picturesque superstition\" may\nbe among ignorant people. There is no question as to the ultimate\nbenefit of enlightenment and education, even if at first they appear to\nbanish originality and produce monotony of character. But that is better\nthan the type of mind which could drown an old woman because she kept a\nblack cat, and sold nasty herbal \"love-philtres\" to silly girls. I do\nnot think witches were much persecuted in Wales as a matter of fact,\nand, as I have shown, they and \"wise men\" are still to be found in the\ncountry. As we have seen, superstition took other forms there, and a\ngreater hold, because it was, I am convinced, rooted in a foundation of\npsychic facts, just as the \"second sight\" was, and I suppose is still, a\nfact amongst the Highlanders of Scotland. But I have no doubt that for\none Welshman who did really have the vision of his own or a neighbour's\nfuneral, there were at least ten who would make the same assertion out\nof their own imaginations. And probably now the real faculty is very\nrare indeed, for it is a gift belonging to primitive races, and ever\nstifled by education and self-consciousness. We cannot deplore its loss,\nbecause with it has gone a mass of darkest ignorance, but that need not\nprevent us from being interested in its effect on the traditions and\nbeliefs of the country. Personally I am quite indifferent as to the\namount of occult truth contained in the miscellaneous material of this\nvolume; that some truth there is, I do not doubt, but its existence is\nof secondary importance in comparison with the delightful, old-world\natmosphere that clings to these antiquities, and seems in some way to\nmake us realise \"the times of our forefathers\" better than the history\nof more serious events. So let us, in our hurrying, bustling days,\ncherish this faint fragrance of a bygone age as long as we can; it will\nfade quickly enough, dying with that\n\n                        \"... race of yore,\n    Who danced their infancy upon their knee,\n    And told our marvelling boyhood legends store,\n    Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea.\n    How are they blotted from the things that be!\n    How few all weak and withered of their force,\n    Wait on the verge of dark eternity,\n    Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse,\n    To sweep them from our sight....\"\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"Stranger Than Fiction: Being Tales from the Byways of Ghosts and Folk-lore","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":57156}