{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_76814/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_76814","id":"gutenberg_76814","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76814","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Journalism/Media/Writing","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Ghost stories"],"text":"Ghosts in the Great War\n                               and\n                           True Tales\n                           of Haunted\n                             Houses\n\n           Thrilling Experiences of \u201cDaily News\u201d Readers\n\n                    Edited by S. Louis Giraud\n\n\n                             LONDON\n             FLEETGATE PUBLICATIONS (\u201cDaily News\u201d Books Dept.),\n               Lombard Lane, Bouverie Street, E.C.4.\n\n\n   The full list of books in this series is as follows:\n\n   No. 1. TRUE GHOST STORIES.\n         Told by _Daily News_ Readers.\n\n   No. 2. WARNINGS FROM BEYOND.\n         Signs, Visions and Premonitions told\n         by readers of the _Daily News_, con-\n         taining:\n            Strange Warnings and Premonitions.\n            Inexplicable Experiences.\n            Remarkable Stories of Ghosts of the\n            Living.\n            Visions of those who have Passed Over.\n            Promised Signs from the Dead.\n            Extraordinary Experiences related by\n            Nurses.\n            Strange Visions of Animals.\n            \u201cTall\u201d Stories.\n            Some Stories with a Sequel.\n\n   No. 3. UNCANNY STORIES.\n         Weird happenings to _Daily News_\n         readers.\n         Some Ghostly things explained.\n\n   No. 4. GHOSTS IN THE GREAT WAR\n         AND\n         TRUE TALES OF HAUNTED HOUSES.\n         Thrilling Experiences of _Daily News_\n         readers.\n         \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\n\n   On sale everywhere, or can be procured direct\n   from the publishers :\u2014\u2014FLEETGATE PUBLICATIONS\n   (_Daily News_ Books Dept.), Lombard Lane, Bouverie\n   Street, London, E.C. 4.\n\n***\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThe subject of Ghosts and Ghostly happenings has always aroused a vast\namount of interest, much fear, some amusement and varying degrees of\nridicule, but in recent years the names of so many prominent and\ninfluential people have been directly associated with it and used in\nsupport of the existence of spiritual intercourse that it has become\nworthy of a careful examination. This fact, and the reported\nreappearance of the \u201cbrown lady\u201d of Raynham Hall, the home of the\nMarquis Townshend, in the latter part of last year, led the Editor\nof the Home Magazine Page of the Daily News, in co-operation with\nthe Publishers of this book to invite readers to give their\nexperiences in this matter. In extending this invitation the Daily\nNews, in its issue of November 6th, 1926, stated:\n\n\u201cA vast number of people do believe in ghosts\u2014many on the most\ninadequate evidence. But up and down the country, in lonely farms,\nin quiet suburban roads, in London flats\u2014in fact, wherever the\nliving dwell and the dead have dwelt, there are people who fully\nbelieve that they have seen mysterious apparitions, sometimes\nuncanny, sometimes not even uncanny, strange noises unaccountable by\nany human agency known to the witness. And these agencies they\nbelieve to be ghosts.\n\n\"Let us find out what these occurrences amount to. We ask our\nreaders, in the interests of sober truth, to tell us of the stories\nwhich are authentically within their own knowledge\u2014not the feverish\ntraditional stories of the countryside, but the sights and sounds\nwhich they themselves have seen and heard, or which their friends and\nneighbours have seen and heard, and which have convinced them that\nghosts really exist.\n\n\u201cMany will hesitate because the story they have to tell, though\ninexplicable, seems so futile; but futility is often characteristic\nof the real living contemporary ghost story as distinguished from the\nblood-curdling romance handed down from the past, with dripping hands\nand clanking chains.\"\n\nAs a small recognition of the service rendered by the writers of\nthese experiences, a daily prize was given by the Daily News for the\nfirst ghost story published each day during the appearance of the\ncorrespondence. It was also announced that it was felt that this\nimportant body of evidence on a subject of continual controversy\nshould not be lost, and, therefore, the Publishers of this book\nundertook to gather into book form the best of the stories, and to\nequally divide a further sum of \u00a320 in prizes to the authors of the\nten best stories used in this way.\n\nIt was then thought that one book would be adequate for the\npresentation of these selected stories, but the response to the Daily\nNews invitation was so enormous, that no less than four books of most\nextraordinary stories are now completed and published, and the awards\nhave been increased to \u00a340.\n\nThe Editor of these books has read through every story received\u2014some\nthree thousand in all\u2014and endeavoured to classify them and then group\nthe various phases of the subject under appropriate titles. It has\nbeen a tremendous undertaking, and the work has occupied several\nmonths. Every selected story has been reproduced without alteration\nof fact, and in almost every case the actual wording of the stories\nhas been adhered to.\n\nThe task of scrutinising this vast amount of matter could be done by\nonly one person where the merits of each story were to be judged for\nthe purpose of awarding prizes. And that single-handed task had its\ncompensations as well as its trials, because it yielded a\ncomprehensive survey that could not have been accomplished by\ncollaboration.\n\nThe outstanding feature of this examination was the total absence of\nthe really horrible stories of Ghosts that have been served out to\nthe public from time to time. There was no lack of extraordinary\nincidents, as the stories which we now reproduce will show; and\ngenerally there was a wholesome respect for the nature of the great\nsubject under consideration. Most of the stories prove honesty of\npurpose on the part of the narrators, and the fact that the writers\nof some of the most striking occurrences represent every class, from\nthe poor and unlettered, to those well-placed in the world, is an\nindication that the subject of Ghosts or Spirits has an amazing\ninterest for the public. Reverend Gentlemen, Magistrates,\nProfessional Men, Nurses, all figure in the list of those whose\nstories we reproduce, and the nature of the great majority of the\nletters received indicates a desire for serious inquiry rather than a\nmere relation of something to excite or frighten.\n\nAll those stories which showed abnormal temperament\u2014and there were\nmany of those\u2014have been carefully excluded in the preparation of these\nbooks, but full advantage has been taken of the stories which were\nsent to explain away strange happenings and to relieve the ghostly\natmosphere with healthy humour.\n\nWe make no claim to attempt to answer the question \u201cDo Ghosts\nexist? \u201d; we simply present in the most careful manner the best\nincidents out of the many sent to us in support of the Ayes and Nos,\nand to the many who have experienced inexplicable manifestations and\nawait an explanation, we can only say that unless such can be gleaned\nfrom the sequels to supposed Ghostly happenings with which this\ncollection of stories is interspersed, we are afraid this great\nsubject has not yet been sufficiently investigated to yield them\ncomplete satisfaction.\n\nOne thing this vast amount of correspondence has proved is, that\nwhile the least temperamental of us may scoff at the idea of Ghosts,\nand the humorously inclined may find it a happy sporting ground for\nthe exercise of wit, there is something which surrounds the lives of\na large number of apparently sane and decent-living people, that\ncannot be analysed as we are used to analysing things in this modern\nage. And this something is sufficiently diversified to arouse in\nthose who are not immune from it feelings varying in degrees between\nthe two extremes of uncontrollable dread and deep reverence. To have\naccomplished this alone would have been a complete justification for\nthe preparation and publication of these books, but we hope something\nfurther will be accomplished, namely, to prove the futility, if not\nthe danger, of putting on the market literature on this subject of\nsuch an extravagant nature that it not only injures in its undue\ninfliction of terror those who read it, but detrimentally affects the\nmerits of a subject which, to those who are interested in it, has as\nmany claims to investigation as Wireless or any other subject of\nequally uncanny surprises and possibilities.\n\nHaving thus dealt with the main aspects of this correspondence, there\nare two matters which must not be overlooked: one is a protest that\nwas included in the correspondence\u2014a protest against the publication\nof these Ghost stories, and the other the very emphatic \u201cNo\u201d which is\ngiven by several writers to the question \u201cDo you believe in Ghosts?\u201d\n\nBelow we give in full the protest referred to, and also the principal\n\u201cNos.\u201d The former, we believe, is sufficiently answered in the\nforegoing remarks, and the latter constitute another interesting\nphase of this very interesting subject.\n\nFor the information of those who may desire to secure the whole of\nthe four books in this series or any particular one dealing with a\nspecial phase of the subject, a full description is given on the back\nof the title page of this book.\n\nThe fact that the names and addresses of the writers of these stories\nhave been withheld, and also names of people and places mentioned in\nthe stories, must not be regarded as a reflection upon the truth of\nthe story or the honesty of the writer; it is essential in the best\ninterests of everybody.\n\nIt should also be mentioned that in the case of those stories which\nare set out under headings of Counties or Towns it does not follow\nthat the incidents related always apply to the Town or County under\nwhich they appear; they mostly indicate the place from which the\nstory was received.\n\nTHE EDITOR.\n\nThe stories for which prizes have been awarded are as follows:\u2014\n\nBook No. 1. TRUE GHOST STORIES.\n\n\u2022 Old Mother Bishop.\n\u2022 Out of the Everywhere.\n\u2022 A Strange S.O.S.\n\u2022 Jeanie Passes By.\n\u2022 Saved by the Supernatural.\n\u2022 A Child's Vision, and Experiences in Later Life.\n\u2022 A Convincing Experience.\n\u2022 A Horrible End.\n\u2022 The Wail of a Snail.\n\u2022 Late News.\n\nBook No. 2. WARNINGS FROM BEYOND.\n\n\u2022 Strange Warnings and Premonitions.\n\u2022 Saved by His Child.\n\u2022 A Persistent Warning.\n\u2022 A Startling Vision.\n\u2022 Why I Am Convinced.\n\u2022 Inexplicable Experiences.\n\u2022 An Unseen Menace.\n\u2022 The Phantom Organist.\n\u2022 Remarkable Stories of Ghosts of the Living.\n\u2022 A Strange Vision.\n\u2022 A Life-saving Vision.\n\u2022 Grandmother's Call.\n\u2022 Extraordinary Experiences Related by Nurses.\n\u2022 The White Friar.\n\u2022 A Wandering Spirit.\n\nTall Stories.\n\n\u2022 The \u201cTallest\u201d of the \u201cTall.\u201d\n\u2022 That Was a Good Race.\n\u2022 The Musician's Ghost.\n\nStrange Visions of Animals.\n\n\u2022 The Dying Sealyham.\n\nBook No. 3. UNCANNY STORIES.\n\n\u2022 \u2018One Tid 'E Get Out?\n\u2022 In the Quiet of the Night.\n\u2022 A Gruesome Treasurer.\n\u2022 The Butterfly Ghost.\n\u2022 Saved by His Own Ghost.\n\u2022 A Photographic Mystery.\n\u2022 The Flying Dutchman.\n\u2022 A Strange Vision and Its Sequel.\n\nBook No. 4. GHOSTS IN THE GREAT WAR AND HAUNTED HOUSES.\n\n\u2022 A Pal in Life and Death.\n\u2022 The Morning of the Ypres Big Push.\n\u2022 Is there an Explanation?\n\u2022 A Dream or a Ghost?\n\u2022 An Evil Presence.\n\u2022 A Strange Story.\n\u2022 Was It a Curse!\n\nLETTERS REFERRED TO IN INTRODUCTION.\n\nDear Sirs,\u2014Noting that this correspondence is transferred to you, I\nventure to think that I can subscribe interesting matter for the\nsubject.\n\nBorn seventy-three years ago and passing my early youth in the\ncountry, it will be understood that story telling was a regular\nfeature of spending evenings, and the \u201cghostly\u201d variety was very\nprevalent, so much that my young mind was saturated with that\nnonsense, and to such an extent that life for me after the passing of\ndaylight was a burden. In the dark I fancied seeing ghostly shapes\nand hearing ghostly sounds everywhere. An elder sister who was\nsimilarly affected and, to some extent, my mother, were the only\npersons who knew of my sufferings, as I would have been subject to\nridicule from others, who, however, no doubt had a touch of the\ndisease themselves. I remember my mother hushing the \u201centertainer\u201d\nwhen children were present, and trying to divert the talk into other\nchannels.\n\nThen happily came the cure. Somehow a book came into my hand\n(probably borrowed by me or for me). I do not remember its title. It\nmay have been \u201cGhosts Laid Bare,\u201d \u201cThe Inexplicable Explained,\u201d or\n\u201cCommon Sense Versus Superstition.\u201d It was ghost stories again, just\nas I had heard them (with variation) and quite in line with what the\notherwise generally intelligent Daily News has been serving us, but\nwith this difference, that after each tale a natural explanation of\nit was given. It must have been done very well, fully intelligible\nfor my about thirteen years\u2019 mind. The effect was remarkable. I saw\nhow I had been fooled, and to my intense relief was cured of all\nfear.\n\nYou will therefore understand that unless your intended book of Ghost\nStories or Uncanny Incidents is to be on the same line, that is an\nanti-dose after each dose of poison, I for one condemn it in advance.\n\nI note that it is not all \u201creal\u201d ghost stories, \u201cThe Silken Ghost,\u201d\nfor example, with its explanations on the line of what I have said of\nthe cure book. \u201cThe Picture in the Fire\u201d also, but that is so\nevidently \u201cmade up\u201d that it has no place anywhere, least of all among\nthe prize winners.\n\nAs to footsteps on the stairs and \u201cmysterious\u201d slamming of doors, I\nhave heard that often as it happens in my own house, but prefer to\nbelieve they come from the adjoining house and in a natural manner\nrather than in the ghost inventor's ways. And why should ghosts\nnecessarily make noises\u2014and ordinary, natural, commonplace noises to\nboot?\n\nSo please stop frightening our children. Leave the ghost culture to\nthe savages, where they originate, and if occasions occur give them a\nhand to get over that damned superstition. Yours truly, W. C.\n\nThis was not meant for publication, but why not? I am sure it is far\nsuperior to anything else that will appear in your book and ought to\nhave first prize.\n\nThe following story is true, down to the minutest detail. One night I\nhad a dream and saw an angel bending over me and folding his wings in\na protective manner about my sleeping form. So vivid was the dream\nthat I awoke\u2014not altogether in dread because the face and posture of\nthe angel held nothing but kindness, love and protection.\n\nWhen I awoke, however, the vision did not fade just at once, and I\nmade a cry of awe and, probably, of fear. This awoke my husband and\nhe gently reassured me and soothed me, and, not to disturb him\nfurther, I calmed myself to sleep, determined to say nothing of my\ndream till next day.\n\nAfter lunch on the following day, therefore, when we were having our\ncustomary half-hour's rest and chat, I opened the subject of the\ndream, and was about to relate it when he stopped me, saying he was\nsure he had seen my dream, and begged me to let him relate the dream\nfirst. I did so, and was much amazed that he had seen my dream\nexactly as I had done, and could relate the appearance and attitude\nof the angel in every particular. Did either of us think we had seen\na ghost or apparition? Neither of us thought so.\n\nThe truth of the matter was that my dream had been so vivid and real\nthat even after I awoke the impression of the vision was still on my\nbrain and took a little time to fade away, and my husband's sympathy\nwas so alive to my distress, and his mind as much in tune with mine,\nthat my mind, as it were, photographed to his mind the vision which I\nsaw.\n\nSuch happenings as these are merely scientific, not supernatural; but\nin this case both my husband and myself would probably think we had\nseen a ghost had it not been that our education had led us into\nscientific studies in face of which we knew we had not seen a ghost.\nThe present day vogue in spiritualism and kindred subjects, which\nshows the God of Love and the Creator of the Universe as a\nsmall-minded creature who amuses Himself frightening us poor mortals,\nis nothing but pure ignorance, and deserves to be put down as such.\nTo try to get into touch with the Almighty by such trickery, for\ninstance, as table-rapping, is simply blasphemy.\n\nI do not believe in ghosts, except as the result of our own\nimaginations. In \u201cHamlet\u201d (Act III., Scene IV.), when the ghost\nenters, only Hamlet sees it. His mother, the Queen, not seeing it,\nthinks him mad. That ghost is merely one conjured up by Hamlet's\nimagination. By continually thinking about, and brooding over, the\nfact that he has not yet avenged his father's murder, the accusing\nghost appears to him. After he has explained matters to his mother,\nshe rightly says: \u201cThis is the very coinage of your brain, this\nbodiless creation.\u201d Similarly, Brutus alone is visited by the ghost\nof Caesar. Only Macbeth sees the ghost of Banquo in his place at the\ntable, and says, \u201cThe table's full.\u201d Lennox, with surprise, replies,\n\u201cHere's a place reserved, sir.\u201d\n\nDuring my lifetime I have seen only one of these ghosts of the\nimagination. During the last year of the Great War (I was only eight\nyears old), there were many horrible stories in circulation among my\nschoolfellows about the Kaiser. What an effect they had on my\nimagination! I could go nowhere in the dark alone. Even when\naccompanied, I saw awful phantoms: sometimes bold and prominent,\nsometimes misty and indistinct, but always with spiked helmets\u2014and\nalways Kaisers! As soon as it grew dark my life was a perfect misery.\nI was thankful I did not sleep alone. When the war ended these ghosts\ngradually faded and, again, I could venture in the dark alone!\n\nI am sure that people imagine the ghosts they see in lonely woods and\non lonely heaths. The weird noises they hear are natural\u2014perhaps\nmagnified by their imaginations. Even when not magnified, the sighing\nand shrieking of the wind in the trees and the mournful hootings of\nthe owl are very eerie!\n\nI am only a working woman, and not highly educated, but I feel I must\nput a pen to your ghost problem. Well, I don't believe in them; there\nare none. Would any sensible person, having lost their dearest and\nbest, like to feel their spirits were not at rest? Why, Flanders\nfield would be white with ghosts. I believe that nervous people often\nfancy they see things, as I have proved, having lost a dear sister,\nwhose mind became unbalanced through a nervous breakdown. She used to\ntell us all sorts of things she saw, but, thank God, we have never\nseen her ghost. But I believe there are times when we are downcast and\nwarned by a kind of telepathy of impending illness or death among\ndear ones, but only at times. I have proved this also. No, sir, no\nChristian people believe in ghosts.\n\nMany years ago I was helping my father to build a house, on the side\nof a main road, near a large village in Lincolnshire. It was early\nautumn, and the house was nearing completion. A workman was left in\ncharge during the night, but on one occasion, owing to the sudden\nillness of his wife, he was unable to fulfil his duty, and I elected\nto remain and take charge. It was a beautiful night, and the moon was\nin full. I had made a fire in a middle room, and by the light from a\ncandle, I read through an interesting novel by Harrison Ainsworth. I\nlooked at the time: it was close on midnight. I blew out the light\nand closed my eyes, the happenings which I had just read in the novel\nrapidly passing through my mind. The silence was intense: the\nloneliness complete. Suddenly I was startled by a crash and the sound\nof falling glass on the front-room floor. Feeling sure that someone\npassing had hurled a broken brick through one of the large bay-window\npanes, I rushed upstairs, and from one of the windows which\noverlooked the road, and from which a long distance could be seen\nboth ways, I looked to see in which direction the culprit had gone.\nNot a soul was to be seen; not a sound was to be heard! Then I went\nto inspect the damage. Every pane was intact, and there was not a\nfragment of glass on the floor!\n\nLater in life, I have found, on more than one occasion, what tricks\none\u2019s imagination and thoughts can play; how they can conjure up\npictures, and faces and forms, not only of those we know, but of\nthose we have known, which the eyes, acting in unison, will, under\nvarying circumstances, place momentarily before you. The writer\n\u201cNorfolk,\u201d in your issue of the 17th inst., had this experience when\nhe saw the face at the window.\n\nNo, I do not believe in ghosts!\n\n\nGhosts In The Great War\n\nA Pal in Life\u2014and Death\n\nMy pal and I joined the Army on the 21st day of September, 1914.\nMy mother\u2019s last words to me were, \u201cBe a man; do your duty. If God\nspares you to come back to me I will be proud of you, my lad!\u201d I was\nthe only son. My pal heard her words and said: \u201cCheer up; we will\ncome back. \u2018England expects every man to do his duty.\u2019\u201d\n\nMy pal was a soldier from head to foot. When duty called he was\nalways ready; fear never entered his head. Night and day we were\nnever parted; side by side we fought for two long years, and I am\nsure his thoughts always were that England did expect every man to do\nhis duty.\n\nHe was shot dead at my feet on the 5th of October, 1916. If he could\nhave spoken to me I am sure his last words would have been, \u201cThank\nGod, I have done my duty.\u201d\n\nBroken-hearted through the loss of my pal I did my best to carry on,\nalthough my nerves were shattered, and fear was always in my heart. I\nwas a messenger and had to carry messages from the firing line to\nheadquarters. Three weeks after the death of my pal we were on the\nSomme. Our division went over the top; we fought our way forward all\nday until darkness stopped our advance. My captain handed me a\nmessage and said: \u201cGo back to headquarters with this as quick as\npossible.\u201d\n\nIt was a lovely moonlight night. As I ran forward bullets and shells\nwere flying everywhere. I don\u2019t know whether it was the sight of dead\nmen that lay around or the noise of the battle, but fear got the\nbetter of me. I dropped into a shell hole. The longer I sat the worse\nI got. The message which meant so much to my comrades in the firing\nline was now getting delayed. Shell after shell burst around me. I\nmade one more attempt to go on, and, as I crawled out of the shell\nhole, the sight I saw I shall never forget. There was my pal standing\nnot two yards away, not in white as most ghosts are, but dressed in\nhis soldier's clothes. I stood there: the shock was too much for me;\nI could not move. But the ghost (I am sure it was my pal) kept waving\nme on and pointing in the direction of the headquarters, which were\nabout a mile away. I don't know how, but I moved on; the ghost moved\nalso. If I stopped it stopped and waved me on. This went on until I\nwas about ten yards off my destination. The ghost then waved its hand\nas if to say \u201cgood-bye,\u201d and disappeared into the air. Terrified, I\nran on. With the help of my pal, the message was delivered. He had\nhelped me do my duty in life and he had still aided me\u2014though dead.\n\nThe Morning of the Ypres Big Push\n\nTHE following remarkable experience befell me in France. It is true\nin every detail and, although ten years have elapsed since then,\nstill the memory of it remains. It was the morn of the Ypres big\npush, August 16th, 1916. After a night of almost unendurable\nsuspense, fed with the knowledge of the coming storm, how unusually\nquiet everything seemed. There had been nothing to disturb the serene\ntranquillity of that summer\u2019s night, save an occasional ping, ping, of\nthe hidden snipers\u2019 bullets, and a stray enemy shell. It was an\nominous calm\u2014the prelude to the approaching storm. In the small hour\nof the morn, I left my dug out, as shortly I was due for duty on the\nfire step. As I proceeded on my way along the trench I suddenly\nbecame aware of the form of a woman barely a dozen yards in front of\nme. Now I wasn\u2019t half asleep, neither had I been having an extra rum\nration. I stood there astonished, all manner of thoughts coursing\nthrough my mind. Could it by any chance be a kilted Highlander?\nImpossible. They were miles away on our left. In my anxiety to\ndiscover who it was I exclaimed, \u201cHello Jock,\u201d and it vanished\nimmediately in front of my very eyes in a straight run of trench and\nin very good light. I was bewildered, and proceeded on my way,\nscarcely able to credit my senses.\n\nArriving at the post I joined my pals there, and we struck the usual\nconversation. After a few minutes a strange feeling of uneasiness\ncrept over me\u2014a sense of impending danger; a presentiment that\nsomething was about to happen. I thought of the form I had seen, and\nan irresistible desire to leave the post took complete possession of\nme. In desperation I turned to my pal named Stewart, exclaiming:\n\u201cCome on, let us go to the latrine and have a smoke.\u201d After much\npersuasion he eventually came away, and, together, we made a bee-line\nfor the latrine. Arriving there we lit our \u201chalf-a-mo\u2019s\u201d cigarettes.\nScarcely had we done so when we heard a resounding crash and,\ntogether, we rushed along the trench in the direction of the sound,\ngrave fears filling my mind. At last we reached the bend in the\ntrench leading to the machine gun post, and there a grisly sight met\nour gaze\u2014a head lying on the broken duck boards. A trench mortar had\nmade a direct hit on the very spot on which I had stood scarcely five\nminutes previously. Three poor fellows were blown to atoms. A narrow\nshave truly. \u201cLuck,\u201d some would say; others would say \u201cChance.\u201d But,\nin my honest opinion, it was direct spiritual intervention.\n\nThe following sequel convinced me of that. Some time afterwards, in\nwriting to a sister of mine, I related the remarkable vision I had\nseen in the trench, and, in her reply, she informed me that it was in\nthe small hours of the morning of August 16th, nine years\npreviously, that my mother died, about the same time as I saw the\nvision or form of a woman in the trench. She reminded me of a fact I\nhad quite overlooked. In summing up the whole thing, I am convinced\nthat the form I saw was no kilted Highlander, but the spirit of my\nown dear mother come to warn me of impending danger. How else can I\naccount for that feeling of uneasiness, that sense of impending\ndisaster, that strong presentiment of something about to happen, and,\nabove all, that irresistible desire to leave the post? Thank God, I\ndid; for through the instrumentality of that spiritual warning, not\nonly was my own life spared but my friend Stewart's as well.\n\nIs There an Explanation?\n\nI don\u2019t know if the thing I saw could be called a ghost. I\u2019ve never\nreally made up my mind about it. It may, for all I know, have a\nperfectly proper scientific explanation, but it struck me as\nremarkably eerie at the time. It was a ghostly place anyway\u2014the\nSomme, in 1918, when for the last time \u201cJerry\u201d was being followed\nback across the old familiar ground. It was daylight\u2014a day of\nsunshine\u2014and I was reporting to company headquarters from one reserve\nline to another, across the open, when the shells began to fall. In\nappropriate rabbit-fashion I dived for the nearest shell hole. There\nwas a dead man in that shell hole, lying on his back, staring up at\nthe unquiet sky. An unpleasant neighbour, no doubt; but when shells\nwere about one stayed where one was reasonably safe. Naturally enough\nI stared at the dead man, and then I noticed a peculiar thing. I have\nsaid that the man was lying on his back, but that was not exactly the\ncase. The shell hole was a very large one and very old. In the bottom\nthere was a coil of rusty wire. The face, and upper part of the\nbody\u2014for that was all I noticed\u2014was pillowed upon the wire and the\nspear points of the grass that had grown under and about the coil.\nThe face struck me as the most ethereal and delicate I had ever seen.\nI don't know exactly how to explain it; the dead man\u2019s face appeared\nas though woven of some ethereal flesh-coloured cob-web, spun on the\npoints of the grass and wire, and the light seemed to go right\nthrough the delicate skin. I stared at it quite fascinated, and,\nafter a while, the fascination overcame me. I simply had to touch the\nface to see if it was real. I plucked a piece of coarse grass that\nwas growing in the hole and, stretching across, stroked the face\u2014and,\nimmediately, it vanished.\n\nNow was that a ghost, or can science explain? For instance, can the\nmere shell of a human face and body exist (below ground, it is true,\nbut open to the air) and yet be so easily dispersed. For myself, I\ndon't know. It is, in any case, the nearest approach to a ghost that\nI, personally, have ever seen. I did not make a search, but, after\nthe body and face disappeared, I looked round but could see no trace\nof any equipment, boots, entrenching tools, and such like things.\n\nA Dream\u2014or a Ghost?\n\nI KNOW nothing of the occult, and claim no great belief in it, yet an\ninstance occurred in which I was undoubtedly assisted by what appears\nto be the occult. It was just after the signing of the Armistice that\nI was at Dobritch (in the Dobrudja) running a Y.M.C.A. centre there.\nThe goods for the boys used to come by ship to Varna. They were\nplaced on rail at Varna by another Y.M.C.A. officer stationed there.\nThey were locked, and sealed, and a guard placed over them by the\nBritish R.T.O. at Varna, before being transported to Dobritch by the\nBulgar railway authorities. These stores always arrived locked, and,\nyet, invariably, with quantities of goods missing. Both my colleague\nat Varna and the R.T.O. thought I was mistaken, and the Bulgar\nrailway official said \u201cNothing could have been stolen.\u201d I was puzzled.\nThen, one night as I lay in bed, there passed before me\u2014as in a\npanorama or a moving picture, so vivid and real was it\u2014a vision of a\ntrain drawing up in the night, to a small station. I distinctly saw a\nstout, middle-aged Bulgar station-master (as proved by his uniform)\ngo to a coach, unlock it, creep in, and roll out some crates marked\nY.M.C.A., lock it again, and then whistle for the train to proceed.\nVivid as the vision was, I paid little heed to it. As the next two or\nthree consignments all revealed goods missing again, I decided to act\nSherlock Holmes myself, next time. I went down to Varna. After the\ngoods were loaded, I allowed the R.T.O. to lock the doors with me\ninside, and seal them. Only we two knew I was there. The train rumbled\nalong in the night, for some considerable distance, and then drew up\nat a wayside station. It was midnight, and very dark, but I heard\nheavy footsteps approach and stop at my coach. Then a heavy breathing\nand a fumbling at the lock\u2014and the door was gently slid back. A bull's\neye cast a gleam inside, and, by it, I saw the burly form of a Bulgar\nstation-master begin to creep in. His lantern shone right on his\nface. It was the exact face I had seen in the vision\u2014even to a scar on\nthe cheek. I waited no longer for the vision to be further fulfilled\nbut jumped down off my bed and planted a running kick, square on his\njaw. He fell back, outside, with a groan, mumbling \u201cAnglaise dobra,\ndobra\u201d (English, it all right). I closed the door again, the train\nproceeded. Goods were never missing again.\n\nInstinct or\u2014What?\n\nWHAT is instinct? Is it some indefinable extra sense which now and\nthen comes into play, at much needed moments, and guides us into\ncorrect lines of conduct, when otherwise rational thinking would only\nleave us confused? Or is it the operation of some external force,\nperhaps spiritual, which recognises our incapability, takes the helm,\nguides us through rock strewn seas, with or without our approval,\nand, finally, leaves us safely in the calm?\n\nListen!\n\nDuring the War I was a stretcher-bearer and, on the occasion in mind,\nI was one of a squad who were carrying from a certain aid-post.\n\nWhen things were quiet it was our custom to make ourselves\ncomfortable in a deserted wayside cottage. The comforts we improvised\nin that billet were wonderful to us, and it was, naturally, an object\nof our \u201cTommy's\u201d pride and affection. One evening, returning from\ntaking a casualty down to the advanced dressing station, I don\u2019t know\nwhy, but I became obsessed with an intense feeling of distrust for\nour cottage. Call it what you like; I felt fear, funk, nervousness,\ninsecurity and an unmistakable impression that something was going to\nhappen. Strangest thing of all, all my distressing symptoms were\ncentred on that beloved billet\u2014nothing else\u2014not even on the shell\nswept track along which we carried our wounded.\n\nSensible men never turn a deaf ear to such a pointed warning. I\npersuaded my pals to leave the cottage and \u201cdig in.\u201d For a couple of\nhours we worked hard forming a little trench to hold four, and we\ncompleted our earthwork by covering the top with doors on which we\nloaded earth to act as a protection against falling shrapnel.\n\nThis was our billet for that night.\n\nAnd now for the sequel.\n\nAt midnight the enemy, instead of \u201csearching\u201d here and there with his\nshells, as was usual, suddenly developed the dreaded creeping\nbarrage, and within five minutes of the commencement of that\nbombardment our cottage sustained a clean hit and collapsed in\nflames.\n\nFurthermore, when we crept out of our trench at dawn we found the\nsurrounding fields ploughed up with shells, the nearest four hits\nbeing within twenty yards of our little trench.\n\n\u201cLuck,\u201d some say. \u201cInstinct,\u201d I argue.\n\nBut what is \u201cInstinct?\u201d\n\nSaved by an Apparition\n\nDURING the War I drove a Sunbeam Ambulance and at one time was\nattached to the 92nd Field Ambulance. The division was in action at\nYpres and the first-aid post was in a dug-out on the canal bank. As\nsoon as darkness fell it was our duty to drive from Flaniatyage to\nthe first-aid post, pick up the wounded and convey back to Poperinghe\nclearing station.\n\nOne very dark night I had just arrived at the first-aid post behind\nEssex Farm, where I was told to return immediately with a very bad\nabdominal case, and was given instructions to get to Poperinghe as\nquickly as possible.\n\nI had gone about 500 yards when the light of a star shell revealed\nwhat seemed to be a lady standing in the middle of the road. I had to\npull up. Consider my surprise, as the next star shell went up, to\nfind no one there.\n\nFirst, second, top gear, then another star shell and the lady was\njust in front again. I pulled up to find no lady.\n\nJust as I approached Salvation corner, I saw, by the light of a star\nshell, a sentry standing at the challenge\u2014his bayonet gleamed. I gave\nthe customary shout \u201c92nd Field Ambulance.\u201d He didn\u2019t move again. I\npulled up and, to my astonishment, there was no sentry, but,\nimmediately in front, was a shell hole large enough to bury a London\nbus. It took a long time to get past, but I got my patient to\nPoperinghe alive. Should I have done so had those apparitions not\nappeared?\n\nA Field of the Dead\n\nPERHAPS the most unique of many ghostly experiences\u2014both personal and\nthose of friends\u2014was one which took place on the fateful night\nbetween August 3rd and 4th, 1914. My brother (who though strong and\nunimaginative is somewhat psychic) and I had sat up till about\nmidnight, and I was amazed to hear him suddenly declare, as he shut\nhis book and rose, that \u201cno one could sit and read with that noise\ngoing on.\u201d I asked what noise, and, on being bidden to listen (our\nhouse is on a quiet hill off an old Roman road going to the coast)\nnoticed the sound of a great crowd, a confused, soft sound. \u201cWhy,\u201d I\nsaid, \u201cI don\u2019t understand you\u2014it\u2019s no worse than any Bank Holiday.\nQuieter, indeed. You can well understand their being about to-night;\nthey want to know whether it will be war or not.\u201d He maintained that\nit was impossible to do anything but get quickly to bed. More and\nmore amazed\u2014this was so unlike him\u2014I went to the front door with him,\nand there, clear and distinct, the sound of thousands of footsteps,\nof people shuffling, treading, moving about, but without uttering one\nsingle word, came from the road at the foot of our hill\u2014about four\nhouses\u2019 distance. Nothing whatever could be seen. My brother\ndeclined absolutely to let me run down to look, or to come with me.\nNext day we heard that war had been declared at midnight. We live\nfive miles out of London and it is not a place where people would\ngather for news. Subsequent inquiries made of a friend who lived on\nthe road where the silent crowd had moved and passed about (remaining\nin the one place so far as I could judge), revealed nothing in the\nway of explanation. To his knowledge there had been no crowd. It was\nas if the ghosts of those who were to fall during those coming four\nyears of blood had \u201cprojected\u201d themselves, eerily, at the hour of the\ndeclaration of the Great War, upon the ancient road where Roman\nsoldiers, long ago, must have marched. Or were they the spirits of\nthe long-dead soldiers of the centuries, welcoming the heroes of\n1914\u20141918?\n\nA Mother's Vision\n\nDURING the War my two eldest sons were serving with the Forces in\nMesopotamia. One day, while occupied about my usual household duties,\nthere suddenly came to me the following mental vision (I can call it\nnothing else): I saw my eldest boy in a half-reclining position,\nquite alone, in a wild desert sort of a place with one hand stroking\nhis forehead in a dazed kind of a way. So vivid and clear was the\nvision that I could not shake it off. Again and again it repeated\nitself, always exactly the same.\n\nAt tea-time I spoke of it, and said I was afraid something had\nhappened to F., but they only laughed at me and said I was getting\nfanciful in my old age, and so I tried to forget it.\n\nAbout six weeks later (the usual time for news to get through then) I\nreceived a letter from him and, to my great surprise, it contained\nthese words as near as I can remember them:\n\n\u201cI must tell you, mother, of a little incident that happened the\nother day. I had a fancy to take my horse and go off alone for a\nlong-stretch gallop. When some distance from camp I suppose he must\nhave put his foot in a hole and stumbled; anyway he threw me. I don't\nknow how long I lay there but, on coming to, I discovered I had still\ngot the reins tight in my hand with bridle attached but, alas, there\nwas no horse; he had quickly made tracks for the camp, leaving me to\nget there the best way I could.\u201d\n\nI shall always think that this accident happened just at the time my\nvision appeared to me.\n\nThen again, about three days or so before Christmas, 1918, I had\nanother presentiment that something was wrong. This time it was the\nyounger son. There suddenly came to me a vision of a hospital bed and\nI found myself looking down on my boy, who appeared to be very ill. I\nhad not the remotest idea at the time that there was anything wrong\nwith either of them. But, as before, the vivid reality of it seemed\nfixed on my mind. But, this time, I kept it to myself until the\narrival, in a few days, of the ominous official envelope with the\nnews that he was in hospital at Bagdad, seriously ill with dysentery.\nHe lived to return home. He then told me that, just at the time when\nI had seen him in that remarkable vision, his life would not have\nbeen worth much.\n\nSaved Husband\u2019s Life\n\nONE morning, during the War, I had a most vivid dream of being chased\nby two Germans with fixed bayonets, and I'd almost reached safety\nwhen one of them stabbed me in the right shoulder. The shock woke me,\nand, on looking at the clock, I found it was about 6:45 a.m. When I\ngot downstairs I remarked that something had happened to my husband\nand related my dream, only to be laughed at. I heard nothing at all\nfrom, or of, my husband for fifteen days; then I had the usual\nofficial notification, saying that he was in hospital with severe\ngun-shot wounds to the head and left shoulder. Some few weeks later I\nwent to see him in hospital and found that it was his right shoulder\nthat was in bandages, and, of course, told him my dream. He looked at\nme in such a queer way that I asked him what was the matter, and this\nis what he told me: The morning he was wounded, they were ordered to\nattack at 6:30, and they hadn't got very far from their trenches when\nhe was hit in the right shoulder with a piece of shell which sent him\nspinning into a shell hole, where he lay unconscious for two or three\nhours. When he recovered consciousness he saw me standing on the edge\nof the shell hole, beckoning him, and, with great difficulty (for his\nright arm was quite useless) managed to scramble out and follow me. He\nwas joined by two wounded Germans. When I'd gone some distance, I\nstopped, so did he and one of the Germans; the other one went on and\nwas blown to bits by a shell which exploded just in front of us. Then\nI went on and took him safely to the dressing-station, where he\ncollapsed. To this day he declares I saved his life.\n\nThe Shell-wrecked Church\n\nTHE experience I shall never forget happened to me while serving with\nthe Dublin Fusiliers in France. My battalion had just come out of the\ntrenches and we were billeted in different villages near at hand\u2014my\ncompany in the village of Courcelles. In this village was a\nshell-wrecked church, and my billet was a broken-down cottage just\nopposite. One evening I took a stroll through this church and, to my\namazement, I heard the sound of deep and heavy breathing. Thinking\nsomeone was asleep, I had a good look round but found nothing.\nLooking across the road I saw my chum talking to an officer and I\nwent over and asked them to come over and listen. When they heard the\nnoise my chum turned deathly white, and they asked me what it was or\nwho it was. I was just as wise as they were. We searched about the\nchurch, even to moving about the stones and bricks, but found\nnothing. The same night, when asleep in the ruined cottage opposite,\nmy chum woke me up with a startled cry, \u201cCyril, look quick, the\nVirgin Mary!\u201d Looking up, I was astonished to see a white figure\ngliding through the room and out of the broken window across to the\nchurch and into it. We went all about the church the next morning but\nall was quiet. What could it have been?\n\nVision of Brother\n\nDO I believe in ghosts? I did not until the War was on and my\nfavourite brother was in it. He was stationed at Salonica. One day I\nwas making cakes and had just stooped down to take a tin from the\noven when it seemed that my brother bent over me and snatched one. At\nthe same time there was a whisper \u201cI am so hungry.\u201d I dropped the\ncakes and turned round with \u201cOh, Ron!\u201d but my hands met the empty\nspace. A few days after we heard of my brother being killed in\naction.\n\nVision of Wounded Son\n\nONE night during the year 1915, whilst waiting up for my son who\nworked on the trams, and, in consequence, was often late, I thought I\nwould while away the time by reading. When he came in and had supper\nand we were preparing for bed I suddenly became aware of a pair of\nmuddy boots on the hearth rug. I looked at them again and again. Then\nI looked up and saw putties, then pants and belt; then there was a\nspace where the body should have been. Still looking higher, I\ndistinctly saw the head and face of my son George, who was then\nserving somewhere in France. All about his head were white bandages,\nand just by his ear was a large spot of blood. I believe I fainted,\nor something like it. My young son was frightened and called his\nfather who had gone to bed. I told them, \u201cIf George gets hurt it will\nbe in the head.\u201d Five weeks later, on the 1st of June, word came that\nhe was in hospital with a bullet wound in the head. The wound was\nexactly in the same place as I had seen the blood. My son George is\nstill living and most happily married.\n\n\u201cHis Spirit Took This Chance\u201d\n\nTHE following incident happened one afternoon during the War, when I\nwent to visit my husband\u2019s mother. We were sitting in a room talking\nto some other members of the family when, suddenly, my husband's\nfavourite sister came running downstairs calling out, \u201cMother, Dick\nhas come home!\u201d We rushed into the hall, expecting to see my husband,\nand were naturally very surprised, as we had had no intimation of an\nintended leave. However, the hall was empty except for my\nsister-in-law, who had just reached the foot of the stairs. She\nseemed quite convinced that she had seen him standing there, in full\nfield equipment, and we searched the house to satisfy her that he had\nnot come home.\n\nWe did not hear from my husband for many weeks after this and were\nvery distressed, as we felt, after this strange event, that something\nvery serious must have happened to him.\n\nAt last, we had news that he was a prisoner of war.\n\nWhen he returned after the War we told him of this strange incident\nand gave him the exact time and day on which it happened.\n\nJust at this time, it appears, he was captured by the Germans, one of\nwhom struck him with a rifle, rendering him unconscious.\n\nI sometimes think that his spirit took this chance of leaving the\nsickening horror, and, if only for so short a time, being near those\nhe loved.\n\nWalked with the Dead\n\nDURING the Great War my sister was employed as nursery governess with\na family living in M\u2014\u2014\u2014. One of her duties was to meet the oldest\nchild returning from school\u2014and she was very frequently joined by her\nfianc\u00e9, whose regiment was stationed quite near. Eventually \u201cDick\u201d\nwas called to the front.\n\nSix months passed, and, one day, my sister came to see me, looking\nterribly distressed. She informed me that she knew \u201cDick\u201d had been\nkilled. I advised her to get a good nerve tonic, thinking she was\noverwrought through not having heard from him for two weeks. She\nproceeded to tell me that during her usual walk to the school \u201cDick\u201d\nhad walked with her all the way.\n\nHowever, little over a fortnight after this, my sister again came to\nsee me. This time she handed me a letter she had just received from\none of \u201cDick's\u201d brother officers, stating that he had been killed.\nThe date and hour given of \u201cDick's\u201d death corresponded exactly with\nthe day and hour that my sister declared he had walked with her.\n\nThe Phantom Soldier\n\nWHILE my husband was serving in France during the Great War, I\ncarried on our business as job master, and it often used to fall to\nmy lot to drive the brave lads to and from the station. One lovely\nsummer night I was driving a young lad to catch the midnight train\nwhich used to arrive at Waterloo about 4 a.m. He had come over from\nNew Zealand when the call came (he emigrated a few years before the\nwar) and he had just been home on leave to see his parents. I was\ndriving an extremely quiet little pony in a governess car, and the\nyoung soldier and I were sitting opposite one another talking. I had\njust asked him if he intended settling down with his parents when the\nwar was over or go back to New Zealand, and he replied he thought he\nwould stay at home until his parents died. No sooner had he said this\nthan the pony gave a most violent swerve, and, there, by the side of\nthe soldier, outside the trap, was another soldier in the New Zealand\nuniform. The one I was driving shouted out: \u201cThat's a dirty trick to\nplay, mate, the pony might have had us out. Do you want a lift to the\nstation?\u201d But the figure had vanished. A week later, the young fellow\nhad paid the Great Sacrifice. Now, all three of us saw the figure,\nand I think the pony saw it first. When I got the pony to the\nstation, he was trembling and sweating, yet I had not driven him\nhard. I often wondered if he saw more than the soldier and I saw.\n\nAn Unknown Visitor\n\nI WISH to record an experience that befell me while I was on active\nservice in France. It was during the Battles of the Somme in 1916. I\nwas attached to a Lewis gun team in my regiment during the attacks on\nGinchy and Guillemont. One night I was on my post, between the hours\nof ten and twelve, when I was relieved by the next sentry. I retired\nto an unoccupied dugout fifteen yards away to grasp a few hours\nsleep. I had just crawled in and dropped down to sleep when I was\nawakened by a voice calling me by my christian name. I sat up to\nponder over it and, when I convinced myself that I was alone in the\ndugout, and no one within fifteen to twenty yards, I considered it\nwas only imagination, so I dropped down again and, after a space of\ntwo minutes, I was called again by my name. Once more I took it to be\nsheer imagination, and again I lowered my head to sleep when, to my\namazement, I was called the third time in a more distinct voice. This\ntime I sat up and plainly saw a dim blue light going out of the\ndugout door.\n\nI immediately arose and followed it outside, but no one could I\nsee\u2014only the occasional burst of the German shells. I shrugged my\nshoulders and went up to my sentry post to ease my mind of the\nmatter. I had just walked about fifteen yards away when a German 5.9\nshell landed in the dugout and blew it to pieces\u2014a grand escape, and I\nattribute it to the warning of a friendly ghost. On another occasion\nwhen my life was in danger the same voice called again three times.\n\nA Lover and a Sister\n\nONE day during the War, I was sitting reading, when suddenly I heard\nmy fianc\u00e9 (then in France) calling my name. I looked up and beheld\nhim walking towards me, in a white shroud. I was horrified and called\nto him to go away, but his ice-cold hands touched my face and I\nfainted. He was killed that day, and his comrades said he was calling\nmy name as he died. Again, in a vision, I saw my beloved sister (a\nnurse) lying dead in a ward. A few days later we met at our home.\nDuring tea I related my vision to her, describing the ward and even\nthe flowers and ivy they had put on her. Everyone but mother laughed.\nMy sister laughed till tears rolled down her cheeks and said \u201cOh! my\ndear, I\u2019m too healthy to die; look at me.\u201d And, indeed, she was a\npicture of health and happiness, and she was beloved by everyone.\nBut, six weeks later, she lay dead exactly as I had seen her. Why I\nshould see the two people I loved best like that I cannot say, but I\ncannot but believe in the supernatural.\n\nA Brother's Smile\n\nIN August of 1917 my brother was fighting in France for his King and\ncountry. One Sunday night I had gone to bed and just turned out the\nlight and made a prayer for the safe-keeping of my brother who was\nfighting for us. When he appeared before me, bent over me and gave a\nlovely smile, and disappeared again.\n\nTwo days afterwards I received a letter to say he was killed in\naction at the hour he appeared to me.\n\nHer Soldier Boy\n\nONE night during the War, I had seen all the family into bed and\nreturned downstairs to put things right for the morning, and to pack\nthe food for the workers. It was well on into the night as I sat at\nthe table cutting the food. The lobby door seemed to open and my\nsoldier boy stood there and said \u201cMother\u201d in such a sad voice, then\nvanished. I could see him so plainly and he looked so sad that I felt\nupset and went to bed, but not to sleep. I felt he was in trouble. I\ncame to know in a short time that he was that night lying out on the\nbattle-field at Passchendaele seriously wounded. He received a M.M.\nWe have the Testament that saved his life; it is shot through, but\nthere happened to be a steel looking glass at the back, and this\nstopped the bullet.\n\nA War Worker's Experience\n\nYour ghost stories have prompted me to write and tell you of an\nexperience which I had some years back and which Armistice Day has\nbrought back to me very vividly.\n\nIn 1916, I, like many more young women, felt the call of my country,\nand I gave up a position I held in an office in Leicester and offered\nmy services at the Glen Parva Barracks, Wigston. I was accepted as a\nclerk, but, when it was found that I was a typist too, I was sent into\nan office to release a young soldier for foreign service. He took it\nvery well and showed me my new work very willingly. There were also\ntwo soldier clerks and two civilians, but I was the only female in\nthe block of buildings. He was very friendly with all the clerks and\noften came into the depot to see us whilst he was training. He\neventually went to France, and I thought no more about him, until one\nnight I was awakened out of my sleep by hearing someone move in my\nbedroom. In the dim light I could see this soldier standing by the\nchest of drawers and feverishly turning over the contents of the top\nleft hand drawer. My mother used to call it my \u201cchaos\u201d drawer,\nbecause it was always in such a chaotic state\u2014filled with all my odds\nand ends. My blood ran cold and I could not speak. I sat and watched\nhim raking about in that drawer until, after what seemed an eternity\nto me, I managed to gasp \u201cTyers, what do you want?\u201d Never shall I\nforget his face as he turned from the drawer and looked at me. It was\ntruly poor old Tyers, but his face was all drawn with pain, and\nghastly. In a moment, he vanished, and it was a long time before I\ndared look at my watch to see what time it was. It was ten minutes\npast two, and I did not fall asleep again until it was almost time to\nget up. I missed my train next morning and was very late. In the\nusual rush I did not get a chance to tell the other clerks until\nquite late in the morning. They all listened anxiously and hardly had\nthe words left my lips when we heard footsteps coming quickly up the\nwooden staircase outside. The next minute, the Lance-Cpl. who was on\nduty in the guard room rushed in and said: \u201cHave you heard about poor\nold Tyers? He\u2019s dead. His father has just telephoned to tell me that\nhe died in the early hours of this morning at a hospital in England.\u201d\n\nWhy he appeared to me as he did I do not know, nor do I know what he\nwas looking for in the drawer, but I have always chided myself that I\ntook his place, for I feel somehow that I was partly responsible for\nhis untimely end.\n\nThe Sinking of the \u201cAboukir\u201d\n\nON the night of September 22nd, 1914, I was sleeping with my\ndaughter, whose husband was serving on H.M.S. \u201cAboukir.\u201d\n\nDuring the night we heard a noise such as would be caused by the\ndragging of heavy chains. I sat up with a start and my daughter\ngasped. \u201cOh, mother! what is it?\u201d I got out of bed and called the\nonly man in the house. He searched all over the house and the yard\noutside, from whence the sound appeared to come. But all was silent.\nWe all went back to bed and, within a few minutes of our return, we\nheard again the dreadful clanking\u2014weird and unmistakable. Again a\nvain search was made.\n\nThe following morning the papers announced the sinking of the\n\u201cAboukir\u201d and my son-in-law went down with it.\n\n\u201cOn Leave\u201d\n\nI was engaged to a soldier, during the War, and received notice that\nhe was coming home \u201con leave.\u201d The day before he was expected I was\n\u201cspring-cleaning\u201d a bedroom, with a friend, when she suddenly\nexclaimed: \u201cLook, there is \u2014\u2014\u2014 on his bicycle,\u201d and pointed out of the\nwindow. As I was busy at work (and not too clean) knowing that I\nshould see him within an hour, I drew back, that I might not draw his\nattention to me, and told her to do the same, until I had dressed\nproperly. I was not surprised he was a day early. We watched him from\nthe window, and saw him speak to the gardener, who was sweeping, and\nthen we hurried up. Having dressed, I went to the gate, but saw no\nsign of him, so I asked the gardener which direction he took. The man\nsaid he enquired if I still worked at this house, but he did not\nnotice which way he went. Thinking he had probably gone to my home\n(ten minutes distant), but wondering he had not called for me, I went\nhome. No one, excepting my friend, myself and the gardener had seen\nhim.\n\nNext day I learnt that on the day, at the actual time I saw him, and\nthe gardener spoke to him, he was killed in France.\n\nThe Three Figures\n\nIT was during the Great War, March, 1918, my only brother was in\nFrance; he had just returned after fourteen days\u2019 leave.\n\nI was awakened one night by three figures entering the bedroom\u2014one in\nwhite between two soldiers in khaki. I drew my husband\u2019s attention to\nit, but he could not see anything, and said: \u201cNow, it\u2019s just fancy;\ntry to get off to sleep.\u201d I was going over when they entered a second\ntime. I shall never forget it, for I knew there must be something\ncoming concerning my much-loved brother. Three weeks later, I had a\nletter from his officer saying my brother had been killed in action\non the night of my vision.\n\nTo-day (Armistice Day) recalls sad memories.\n\n\u201cGood-Bye\u201d\n\nA FEW years ago I was spending a holiday with a friend who lives in a\nquiet village in the Lake District. We were returning home one\nevening from a neighbouring village, and our path led us across an\nold stone bridge spanning a swiftly-flowing stream. Here I could not\nhear the voice of my friend because of the deafening roar of the\nwaterfall which was only a short distance from the bridge. By the\nside of the waterfall was a powder mill, where most of the\ninhabitants of the village earned their livelihood.\n\nAfter we had passed through the avenue leading from the bridge, my\nfriend related to me a very strange experience she had whilst passing\nover the same bridge one evening during the Great War.\n\nLooking towards the waterfall, she saw, to her amazement and fear,\nthe figure of her husband, dressed in white, and waving his hand to\nher as if in farewell. Almost at the same time her husband's father,\nwho was then at work in the powder mill, saw the same figure of his\nson at his old place, but waving his hand to him in a similar manner.\n\nThe following week my friend received the sad news that her husband\nhad fallen in action, and, on making inquiries, discovered that he\nhad been killed on the same day and at the same hour that she had\nseen him standing on the waterfall bidding her \u201cGood-bye.\u201d\n\n\u201cHello, Daddy!\u201d\n\nTHIS is a most curious incident I now relate, unexplained, and I\nthink that nobody will ever be able to explain it. I can vouch for\nthe truth of every word of it.\n\nDuring the morning of a day in the early part of July, 1915, I was\nbusily engaged hanging out the clothes to dry in my back garden,\nwhen, suddenly, I heard footsteps coming up the passage. I thought\nthat they sounded familiar, so I turned round and watched the gate.\nYou can realise my astonishment when I saw the gate open, my late\nhusband walk in, shut the gate after him, open the kitchen door and\nenter the house. I immediately set down my washing basket and ran\ndown the back garden to the house, being so excited at seeing him\nback, as I thought, from Egypt, where he was serving in the Great\nWar. I entered the house and, seeing nobody about in the kitchen, I\nlooked behind the kitchen door, expecting that I should find him\nthere, as he often used to hide there when he came home, and then\njump out so as to give me a surprise. Seeing that he was not there, I\nthought that he must be in the living-room, so I went in there,\nexclaiming as I entered, \u201cHello, Daddy.\u201d Imagine my surprise when I\nfound the room empty, and also that no one had entered the room at all.\n\nWhat did I see and hear? I can swear that I heard my late husband's\nfootsteps, and that I saw him in his khaki uniform, complete with\neverything that a soldier has when he comes home on leave. I also saw\nand heard the gate open and close, as also I did the kitchen door.\n\nA few days later, I received from my husband a letter stating that he\nhad just arrived at Netley Hospital, Southampton, having been wounded\nand, therefore, drafted home. Therefore, at the time of my experience\nhe must have been on his way to England from Egypt.\n\nThe Robin's Warning\n\nWHEN each of my four brothers was killed in the War a robin came and\nhopped through the house. The last time this happened mother went to\nbed in a worried state as, having three previous visits from the\nrobin, she knew what to expect and dreaded the morning post.\n\nWaking up at midnight she saw Will leaning over the bed-rail in his\nuniform, with his head in bandages. She called him by name and he\ncame towards her but, when she put her hand out to touch him, he\nvanished. News soon came that Will died on that same midnight from\nhead wounds. Mother has never really recovered from this vision and\nthe visits of the innocent robin.\n\nA Remarkable Story\n\nIT was at a base hospital in France, January, 1916. My brother, who\nhad previously been partly buried by a shell bursting near him, was\nnow dying from pneumonia.\n\nI sat by his side through the night, having travelled across the\nChannel to see him, as the authorities had arranged for the same in\nserious cases.\n\nHe was a bootmaker by trade, as was his father; both working the\nbusiness. In his delirium he was back home in the shop. His bed was\nclose to the boards of the Army hut. He would fix his gaze on these\nboards and then swing his fist with three distinct knocks, after\nwhich he would push the palm of his flat hand up the boards, thus\nproducing a peculiar squeaking noise. My father, home in England, was\nworking late in the shop; there came three distinct knocks on the\nwindow, followed by the peculiar sound of someone pushing their flat\nhand up the window. Thinking it was somebody playing a joke he\nshouted, but got no answer. After a little while, it was repeated; he\nwent outside to see who it might be, but there was no one visible,\nand, although by no means a nervous man, or superstitious, he felt a\nsomething, and could not proceed with his work. On my arrival home,\nafter ten days' absence, he related his experience to me. Then\neverything seemed linked up. No wireless could have been more direct.\nMy brother\u2019s hand on the board in France had produced its effect on\nthe shop window in North Bucks.\n\n\nOther Stories In Brief\n\n\u201cWE DO NOT COMPREHEND\u201d\n\nI am not superstitious nor a believer in spiritualism, and yet I\nbelieve there is something connected with the after life which we do\nnot comprehend.\n\nIn far-away Co. Roscommon, is the town of Frenchpark and, close to\nthe town, a very ancient residence\u2014the family seat of the famous\nFrenches\u2014occupied by Lord De Freyne. One night, accompanied by my\nbrother, I walked along by the demesne wall, and came face to face\nwith old Lord De Freyne (who had died long years previous)\u2014a tall\nthin figure, as we knew him in life. He appeared to pass through\nthe closed gates and walk up the drive towards the house. The\nfollowing morning brought the sad news that young Lord De Freyne and\nhis brother, the Hon. George French, had both been killed in action\nout in France.\n\nTHE following experience occurred towards the end of 1918.\n\nDuring the Armistice I was released from internment at Ruhleben and\nwent to stay for a few weeks with my sister at Evesham. At that time,\nmy fianc\u00e9e (since become my wife), whom I had not seen for the whole\ncourse of the war, was still in Italy with the American Red Cross. On\ngetting up one morning, I happened to look out of the window and, to\nmy astonishment, saw my fianc\u00e9e walking along the pavement towards\nthe house where I was. The figure was so real that, although to my\ncertain knowledge she was still in Italy, I imagined that, by some\nmeans or other, she had come on a flying visit to see me, even\nthough, as far as I was aware, she did not know my present address. I\nwatched her coming along, and saw her open the gate and walk up the\npath, and then I distinctly heard a rap with the knocker on the\nfront-door. I hurried up with my toilet and rushed downstairs,\nthinking to find her in the breakfast-room. However, there was no one\nthere, but, thinking that she might have been shown into the\ndrawing-room, I looked in there too, only to find it empty also.\nPerplexed as to what had become of her, I made inquiries, but was\ninformed that no knock had been heard, and no one had been admitted.\nAs it afterwards turned out, my fianc\u00e9e was still in Italy.\n\nA LOVER'S VISION\n\nI HAD a lover, whose love had a quality that seemed to disregard\nentirely the ordinary separation imposed by distance or stone walls.\nDuring the years that we were lovers, I often felt his invisible\npresence, although we were miles apart.\n\nDuring the war, we were both in France. One morning early, I was\npreparing in my room to go on a train journey to meet him. He was a\nhundred miles away. I was hurrying, thinking of nothing but the\nnecessity of catching the train, and answering the girls who were\ncalling to me from other rooms to make haste, when I suddenly turned\nto the door as though impelled to do so. My lover entered with the\nquick eager impulsiveness which was his outstanding characteristic;\nstraight up to me he came, put his hand on mine with a close, warm\nclasp, and was gone again\u2014vanished in the same moment. I learned\nlater that he had been taken prisoner that morning. His appearance\nhad been absolutely natural, and had caused me not the slightest\nsensation of fear; my heart leapt to meet him, only I felt him to be\ndisturbed and unhappy and that troubled me. He had not been injured\nand still lives.\n\n\u201cIN THE LENGTHENING OF THE DAYS\u201d\n\nMy youngest brother joined up in 1914, and was sent to Salisbury\nPlain. Not long after his leaving home, very early one morning,\nsomewhere between half-past one and two o'clock, I lay wide awake,\nand, to my astonishment, I saw him walk into our bedroom and go to\nthe side of my invalid sister's bed, face her, turn, give a step\ntowards the foot, turn again and salute her, and then lay down by her\nside. I screamed with fright, a most horrible scream, and as I did\nso, the vision vanished. I also awoke all the household to whom I had\nto tell what had frightened me so terribly. My people would have it\nthat it was only a dream, although I knew it was not.\n\nShortly after that, my mother received a telegram saying that he was\nill and coming home. I am glad to say that to-day, he is alive and\nwell.\n\nAt the time I spoke to my mother again about the vision and she told\nme that I had seen my brother in the lengthening of the days, which\nmeant he would live to a very old age.\n\nA PASSIONATE LONGING\n\nDURING the Egyptian Campaign, my mother had an experience which I\nhave never been able to explain with satisfaction to myself. One\nnight she was lying awake when she saw the bedroom door open and my\nbrother, who was serving with the forces in Egypt, walk up to the\nbedside and gaze at her with an intense wistfulness in his\nexpression. After both had remained motionless for some moments, my\nbrother retraced his footsteps, and vanished through the doorway.\n\nMy mother was so impressed with the apparition, that she took note of\nthe date and the time, feeling sure that some fatality had occurred\nto my brother.\n\nWhen the war was over, and my brother returned home again, he dressed\nup in his uniform with sand-goggles, etc., and my mother at once\nrecognised the dress as that worn by the apparition. On comparing\nnotes, it was found that my brother was seriously ill of dysentery at\nthat particular time and, fearing a fatal termination, was controlled\nby a passionate longing for the presence of his mother.\n\nAN UNBELIEVER\u2019S DOUBTS\n\nGHOSTS, I personally do not believe in, but this is perfectly true.\nDuring the war, I was stationed for a short period at an empty\nconvalescent camp, bordering the sea on the French coast. Our duty\nwas to guard this, and, at night, we were a double guard\u2014one held the\nmain entrance, the other paraded the whole camp\u2014a most desolate and\nwild affair amongst sand dunes and fir trees. My duty fell for this\nroving commission, and, wandering around, I felt compelled to enter\nthe wood, and gaze at the camp from outside. The night was fair, with\na moon casting long shadows, and, imagine my astonishment to behold\na most weird apparition gliding effortless before me. I was struck\ndumb with surprise mingled with fear, but, remembering my loaded\nrifle and bayonet, I pulled myself together and investigated. It\nappeared to vanish, and, to my great surprise, straight through one\nof the hospitals. I searched, but in vain, and saw nothing more.\nWhether I was wrong, whether I saw something, I know not to this day.\n\nTHE WOMAN BY THE GRAVE\n\nTHIS is an account of my experience whilst in Germany as a prisoner\nof war in 1914, at Sennelager, near Paderborn. I was captured at Mons,\non Sunday, August 23rd, 1914. I belonged to the 2nd Battalion, Royal\nIrish Regiment, and one of my comrades died from exposure early in\nOctober of that year. Volunteers were asked to attend his funeral,\nand of these I was one. The place where he was buried was a wild,\ndesolate moor. The morning of the funeral was very cold and sleet was\nfalling. We were a very miserable crowd as we stood by the graveside\nwhilst the English chaplain read the Burial Service over our dead\ncomrade. Suddenly, there stood with us a woman who remained until the\nservice was over. There is nothing strange in that you will think,\nbut the point is that none of us saw her until she stood with us and\nnone saw her go. Our comrade was a married man, and what we all want\nto know is have we ever seen a ghost?\n\nP.S.\u2014We received a letter from his widow some months after, dated\nbefore his death, imploring him for God's sake to write to her. She\nhad a child very ill in St. Thomas's Hospital.\n\nMANSFIELD\n\nIn November, 1916, my son, eighteen and a half years old, went to the\nwar, being sent out to France. The scene I wish to relate happened a\nweek before the Easter of 1917. It was a Friday. I spent a most\nmiserable, uneasy day. When dad came home at tea-time I was nearly\nfrantic. However, he assured me all was well, and, retiring about\neleven o'clock, I put the bedclothes over my shoulders expecting to\nsleep, when three sharp jerks pulled the clothes right off my\nshoulder. This was repeated twice. The third time, I tucked them\nunder my arm and held them tight and waited to find out the cause.\nThen my son walked into the bedroom and came up to me. He was in\nuniform, excepting cap. His left hand was in his pocket. With the\nother he snatched my hand, gripped it twice and shouted, \u201cMother,\nMother!\u201d\n\nThe following week I heard from him. He went into battle about the\ntime of my vision and was wounded. The same thing happened each time\nhe was wounded\u2014four times. It has always been a mystery to me. Each\ntime the vision was so realistic and he always had the wounded part\nbandaged.\n\nPORTSMOUTH\n\nWHEN war broke out my brother was amongst those who answered the\ncall. One night I saw my mother (who died just before the war)\nstanding at the foot of my bed holding out her arms and looking\nstraight past me. I turned my head and saw my brother come through\nthe closed door and walk into my mother\u2019s arms, and they both\ndisappeared. At the time I thought, \u201cHow could a living being walk\nthrough a closed door.\u201d The next morning I got the news that my\nbrother had been killed in action.\n\nWALSALL\n\nA CLOSE friend of mine fought throughout the greater part of the late\nwar without receiving a scratch. Some few months previous to the end\nof hostilities, he was selected for a commission, and was\nsubsequently transferred to England to undergo the necessary training\nfor a second-lieutenant. He was granted the position and, very\nshortly after, was drafted over to France. One night, when going into\naction, he was suddenly taken seriously ill and was carried back to\nhospital. During one evening, I, for some reason had to go to my\nbedroom, and, when about half-way on the stair-case, I distinctly\nsaw, on the landing, a military officer standing to attention. I\nthought at first it was mere fancy, but, on going a few steps\nfarther, I was thoroughly convinced that at no time had I seen a\nsoldier so real. Then the vision vanished, as quick as thought, into\nthe bedroom. I followed, but, after switching on the light, I failed\nto find anyone in the room save myself.\n\nNext day we received the sad news that this young officer had died\nfrom sickness, three days after Armistice was signed.\n\nPORT ERIN\n\nIN October, 1916, I returned from Liverpool (where I had been\nworking), for a few weeks holiday at my own home. Early one morning\n(between two and three o'clock), I was awakened by hearing singing in\nmy bedroom. I knew the voice quite well\u2014it was that of a young man\nwho had been brought up in the same street as I, and had been\neducated at the same school. He was singing a verse of a hymn, quite\nloud and heartily. I got no more sleep that night and was very upset,\nas I knew this boy was fighting in France. A few days after, I met\nhis sister and she told me they had had word to say that her brother\nwas missing. A couple of weeks went by and word came to say that he\nhad been killed.\n\nNORWICH\n\nIN October, 1917, I was staying with my four little children in a\nvillage near Lowestoft. My husband, a skipper of a steam drifter, was\nat sea. On the night of October 7th, I was awakened by a loud bang.\nAt the same time the bed seemed floating on water. I looked up to see\nmy husband bending over me, and he seemed to put cold, wet hands on\neach side of my face, then disappeared. Two days afterwards, I was\ninformed that his vessel had struck a mine and was lost with all\nhands, about the time he appeared to me. Three or four months after,\nI again saw my husband, this time looking through the window. He had\nwith him another man who was a great chum of his. He also was a\nskipper. A few days later, I was told that at the same time as I saw\nthem this man went down with his ship in the channel raid.\n\nBOLTON\n\nAT 6:30 on the evening of the 15th April, 1917, during a German raid\non our trenches on the Ploegsteert Front, my chum was killed at my\nside. As mutually arranged in case of such an event, I wrote his\npeople. Ten days afterwards I received a letter from my chum\u2019s\nsister, in which was stated that her mother died the same evening\nthat he was killed. She died at 10 p.m.\n\nAt 8 p.m. the mother had called the family to her room. She then told\nthem that Billy (the son) had appeared to her and told her that he\nhad been \u201cknocked out,\u201d but would meet her very shortly.\n\nOLDHAM\n\nONE evening during the late war I sat reading when I felt someone\nblow in my neck. I was just about to turn round when I heard a scream\ncoming from upstairs. I went to see the reason, and, to my surprise,\nI saw my little girl sitting up in bed terrified. I took her in my\narms and asked her what was the matter. She still looked afraid of a\nsomething, and said, \u201cLook, mama,\u201d and, pointing to a corner of the\nroom, added, \u201cThere's daddy; a man up that tree has shot him; I saw\nhim do it, and now my daddy is dead.\u201d She fainted in my arms as she\nrepeated \u201cdead.\u201d I ran to give her a drink to revive her, thinking it\nwas just a nightmare she had had. Eventually, she fell asleep. The\nfollowing week, I had news that my husband had been killed in action.\nOn making inquiries, I found he had been shot by a sniper who was\nposted in a tree, and at the same hour as he had appeared to my\nlittle girl.\n\nBARNSTAPLE, DEVON\n\nIN August, 1916, my husband was sent to France. The following year I\nreceived a letter from him saying he would be home on leave, and I\nwas to expect him any day. This was August 10th, 1917. I started to\nget in extra things and to prepare for his home-coming. I heard\nnothing more, but three nights after receiving his letter, I went to\nbed as usual, and about midnight, I heard my husband call my name. I\nsat up in bed, and there he was standing at the foot of the bed in\nhis uniform with his arms outstretched in welcome. I couldn't sleep\nafterwards. In the morning I went home and told my parents what I had\nseen. I saw them look at each other. Then my mother said he had come\nto her the same night and asked her to look after us (I had one\nlittle girl). Four days later, I had a letter from the War Office\nsaying my husband had been missing since midnight on the 22nd of\nAugust (later, presumed killed on that date). I can't understand it,\nbut the vision is as clear to me now as it was nine years ago. You\nsee, he came home to see us before going to a better home, and I\u2019ve\nkept the memory of it to this day.\n\nKENT\n\nI ALWAYS doubted if people really saw ghosts or apparitions till my\nexperience during the war in 1916.\n\nMy son was in France and I was awakened one morning between one and\ntwo by a terrific noise like an explosion. I thought it was an\nair-raid, and, as I glanced towards the foot of the bed, I saw the\nimage of my son looking very ill and begrimed with mud. He quickly\nvanished, and the next moment I heard his footsteps coming towards\nthe house, and his voice distinctly calling me. I hurried down to let\nhim in, but no one was there. I heard, a few days later, that my son\nwas\nmissing after an engagement when the wood was blown up and only a few\nsurvived; and it happened on the same date and about the same time as\nI had my awful experience.\n\nSURBITON\n\nIN December, 1917, my aunt, who lives in the country, stood looking\nout of her window, when she saw, walking up the path leading to her\nhouse, the figure of a man in khaki, with his kit on his back. She\ninstantly decided that it must be the husband of her next-door\nneighbour, home on leave, and wondered why the lady had not mentioned\nthe matter. However, as the man approached, it was with a feeling of\ngreat shock that she recognised her own young brother, who was an\nambulance bearer at the front. His face was drawn and ghastly, as\nthough he were suffering agonies. On seeing my aunt, he stretched out\nhis arms, and she saw, as he got nearer, that he was a shadowy\nfigure, and not flesh and blood. Thoroughly unnerved, she backed into\nher sitting-room, followed by the form of her brother. Right around\nher table she walked\u2014still followed; then, gradually, he disappeared\nfrom sight.\n\nShortly afterwards, a telegram arrived, announcing the death of this\nbrother, which occurred on the battlefield just before he appeared to\nmy aunt\u2014his favourite sister.\n\nWARWICK\n\nONE night during the Great War, my mother saw her son, who was at\nthat time out in France, standing some distance away from her. He\nseemed to be in some terrible trouble. My father, who is rather\nsuperstitious, said bad news would follow. A few days later, we\nreceived a letter from the chaplain, to say my brother had died from\nsevere wounds a few days before, and we feel sure it happened the\nnight he appeared to mother.\n\nOXFORD\n\nDURING the war, my husband was serving in France with the Tank Corps,\nand it was during this time that I had my one and only experience of\nthe \u201cuncanny,\u201d although I actually saw nothing. I awoke one morning,\njust at dawn (three o'clock) with the feeling that someone had\nentered my room, and said to me \u201cWill is in danger.\u201d I thought I must\nhave been dreaming. I tried to go to sleep again, but found it\nimpossible. Each time I shut my eyes, I seemed to feel a presence in\nthe room, and to be conscious of the certain deadly peril of my\nhusband. I got up, after a time, and made myself a cup of tea, and, by\nthe aid of a book tried to get some more sleep. Things were no\nbetter, however; my mind refused to dwell on what I was trying to\nread, so I gave it up and lay just thinking until five o'clock. At\nthat time, quite suddenly, the weight seemed to be lifted from my\nmind, and I was quite convinced that all was well. I just turned over\nand went to sleep quite happily.\n\nA few days afterwards, in my hubby's next letter, I read that on that\nparticular morning, he had been \u201cover the top\u201d for just those two\nhours (in a \"before breakfast stunt,\" he called it), and they were\nthe worst two hours he had experienced since he had been out there.\n\nYORKSHIRE\n\nDURING the war, in the year 1916, I was in the fighting line round\nArmentiers in France, and on the 13th February in the same year three\nof our gunners were killed, including my devoted pal whom it was my\npainful duty to bury. Time passed on and one night, after I had been\nrelieved from sentry duty, I went into the dugout, lit the candle,\nand prepared for a sleep. I was getting into my bed, which I had made\nof sandbags, and was going to light a cigarette, when the vision of\nmy pal came and sat beside me and said, \"I am not dead yet, Jack.\u201d The\ncandle was still burning and he was life itself. I could see his\nlighted cigarette as the vision faded away in the corner of the\ndugout. I called out to my sleeping pals and told them all about it\nand they said I looked like somebody scared. I should not like to\nhave such an experience again. I was wide awake, and the light was\nlit all through the experience.\n\nKENT\n\nIN the late war I was working with a married friend who had a small\nson, three years of age. Her husband was in the Navy. We were working\nin a T.N.T. shell factory in Kent. Her husband had been on leave and\nhad returned to his duty. She was very depressed because she had a\nfeeling that something was going to happen. I cheered her as best I\ncould. One night (we were working nights), I was put to work in a\nlarge shell store by myself. I heard the door open, as I thought to\nadmit the night foreman, but as no one came in, I looked round, and,\nto my horror, I saw my friend's husband in full naval clothes, with\nno hat on, and his little son in front of him with arms held out. I\nrushed to the door, thinking something had happened, but I found no\none there. Sixteen hours later my friend had news to say her husband\nhad been drowned off the Irish Coast, and, two days later her little\nson caught his night clothes alight in front of the fire and died in\nhospital from the shock of the burns.\n\nDERBY\n\nONE night in April, 1917, I was in bed asleep when I woke with a\nstart and distinctly heard my fianc\u00e9 call in a distressed voice:\n\u201cFrank! oh, Frank!\u201d (my nickname). It was so real, I jumped out of\nbed and, going to the window, I saw him, sun helmet, kit, and all\nequipment in the garden beneath my window, as clear as ever I had\nseen him in reality. I turned to go back to bed and have a good cry,\nfeeling sure something tragic had happened. My sister came from\nanother room and said, \u201cI felt certain I heard Charlie call you. What\ncan it mean?\u201d There was not much sleep for either of us that night,\nand, not hearing from him for several days, I feared the worst.\nHowever, one day at the office, I received a wire asking me to meet\nhim on the London train due in that evening. When I had an\nopportunity I asked, \"What were you doing on the \u2014rd April?\u201d He took\nout his diary and gave it to me to read, and this was written at the\ndate of my experience:\u2014\n\n\"Submarine sighted, lifebelts\u2014what luck if we go under without a\nfight after two and a half years away from home. Frank! oh, Frank,\nGod bless you!\u201d\n\nAnd he admitted what a narrow squeak they had that night in the\nMediterranean.\n\n\nTRUE TALES OF HAUNTED HOUSES\n\nAn Evil Presence\n\nDURING the recent September my husband and I went for a motoring tour\nin Scotland. The weather was wonderful, and I had never felt better\nin my life. Towards the end of our week we made for a certain hotel\nin the Highlands, where my husband hoped to have some dancing.\n\nAt the close of a perfect day\u2014from every point of view\u2014we neared our\ndestination. On entering the hotel I became conscious at once of an\nextraordinary sensation which I can only describe as a soul chill!\nThis remained with me as we went to our room to dress for dinner.\nAfter that meal my husband went to the ballroom and I, who do not\ndance, cowered over the fire in the lounge and tried to get warm.\nTelling myself that I had caught a chill, I sought out my husband and\ntold him I was retiring. He decided to remain until the dancing was\nover.\n\nThe instant I got into my bedroom I was seized by a sensation of\nappalling panic. I saw nothing, but I was perfectly aware that the\nsmall room was filled with uncanny and evil beings!\n\nI undressed and got into bed, but the obsession became too terrible\nto be endured. I endeavoured to make the Sign of the Cross, but found\nthat I could not raise my hands. I then fell on my knees and tried to\npray, but I could not; even to utter the Divine name was an\nimpossibility.\n\nThis seems cold written down as it is, but words fail to describe the\nawful atmosphere. I can only say that the room was crowded to\noverflowing with some evil presence.\n\nI could stand no more; I put on a dressing-gown and went in search of\nmy husband. I found that he had foregathered with some men he had\nknown during the War. He was angry at the interruption, but, as soon\nas he saw my distress, he at once came to my room.\n\nHis presence seemed to help me somewhat, but all that night I tossed\nabout, sleeping only to dream the most awful dreams. In the morning\nmy husband, believing that I had caught a chill, wished to get a\ndoctor, but I knew that my ailment was not physical.\n\nWe went out for a long day trip, and no sooner was I out of the house\nthan I became perfectly normal.\n\nSome of my fears returned as I came back that evening, but as we were\ngoing south in the morning, I made up my mind to brave it out. The\nsecond night was not quite so bad, probably because my husband, who\nwas now rather infected by the condition, remained with me. I did not\nsleep at all; the whole night through I was aware that the evil thing\nwas crouching and waiting to spring upon me.\n\nWe left the place immediately after an early breakfast next day.\n\nMy only sensation when about half a mile from the place was as if I\nhad had a serious illness\u2014intense weakness both of mind and body.\n\nI have never seen a ghost, but I have felt things more than once. I\nam very psychic. I have told this story to several people, and the\nonly explanation offered has been that something must have happened\nin the hotel or in that particular room. This explanation does not\nsatisfy me. I want to know why it is that when we drove up to that\nbeautiful place in the majestic scenery of the Highlands my soul\nseemed to shiver and to shudder within me.\n\nIn a covering letter, the writer of this story says:\u2014\n\n\u201cI do not know whether this is, strictly speaking, a ghost story, but\nit was a recent and very terrifying experience, and I feel that I\ncannot do justice to it in the telling. For obvious reasons I do not\ngive the name of the place in the article, but it was the \u2014\u2014\u2014, a\nlovely spot and an excellent house. Perhaps some of your readers may\nbe able to help me to a solution of the mystery.\n\n\u201cI may add that I am a perfectly sane and normal woman; a journalist\nby profession. My husband is a Highlander, so if the experience had\nbeen his there might have been less to wonder at. I am English and\nIrish and more remotely Scottish by descent, but I have no connection\nancestral or otherwise with Perthshire. \u201cHoping that perhaps some\nlight may be thrown on this.\u201d\n\nA Strange Story\n\nWHEN I was a child of twelve my parents moved to a new neighbourhood.\nWe had lived in our fresh house about a month when I was awakened one\nnight by very heavy footfalls. I sat up in bed and was amazed to see\na bent and dirty nun stumping beside my bed. She wore a nun\u2019s habit,\nvery roughly made of coarse material. She was wringing her hands,\nwhich were tied at the wrists, and on her feet were heavy wooden\nshoes. As I gazed at her she turned her face to me, and her look of\nanguish was terrible. Over her face hung wisps of hair, and on her\nface were blood marks. I looked at her quietly for a second or two\nbefore I realised that the whole room was changed; it was much\nsmaller, the walls were rough enough for barn walls almost, and there\nwas no wainscotting. To my horror I saw that a door was open by the\nside of my bed where there was no door. This really frightened me and\nI screamed loudly, but, after my first screams, the room became\nordinary, and when my father entered I told him what I had seen. He\ngot very angry with me, banged down the candle, and left me much\ncomforted by its tiny glow. In the morning I told my parents what I\nhad seen, but they both told me I was a foolish child, and forbade me\nto mention my \u201cnun,\u201d as I called her, but they allowed me to have a\ncandle for a few nights until I forgot my visitor. Soon after this I\nwent to school and quite forgot my experience, as a healthy child\nwould do.\n\nAbout three years later, I was again sleeping in the same room, when\nI was awakened by heavy footsteps. I felt too frightened to cry out,\nand all the same scene was enacted. I dared not tell my parents this\ntime, but confided in a dear old farmer who lived at \u201cThe Priory\u201d\nnext door. He listened to me with respect, and told me that our house\nwas some hundreds of years old and had been a monastery in earlier\ndays. He knew that my bedroom had been altered from two small ones to\none large one. He also advised me to tell my parents of my fright, as\nhe was sorry for me. After this I slept in the attic for some time\nbut, later, I was taken ill and, to save steps, I was put into my\n\u201cnun room\u201d again. My fright had worn off by then. However one night,\nas I lay tossing on my bed, I again heard the heavy footfalls. I\nscreamed loudly, and when my mother came in she found I had fainted\nfrom sheer fright.\n\nI have had many experiences of ghosts, though I am far from\nhysterical, and have been laughed at when I have spoken of them, so I\nusually keep silent about them. But my \u201cnun\u201d was so real that, on\ncycling by the house recently I felt shivery at looking up at the old\nbedroom window. And why a nun should appear in a monastery is a thing\nunexplained.\n\nWas it a Curse?\n\nI WELL remember when I was a schoolgirl, my father taking an old farm\nwhich had been uninhabited for years. It was a quaint old house with\nthree stairways, and the best bedroom had queer little knobs and\nornamentations all over the ceiling, and the date 1643 or 83 let into\nthe wall\u2014I forget exactly, it was so long ago.\n\nIt was pleasantly situated, but bore a bad reputation, for it was\nsaid that the old lady who owned it in bygone days had come by it\nthrough fraudulently altering a will; then, towards the end of her\ndays, it was unlawfully wrested from her for some paltry debt. This\npreyed on her mind and she died soon after, vowing that she would\nhaunt the spot, so it was said, and anyone who took it would rue it.\nMy mother was very averse to taking it and so was my grandmother,\nwho, indeed, begged and prayed father to have nothing to do with it,\nsaying there was a curse on the place, and no good would come of it.\nHowever, father, not being at all superstitious, but an honest,\nGod-fearing man, laughed at such predictions. He had the farm put in\nrepair, and we went there to live.\n\nFrom that day our modest prosperity vanished; we lost money steadily.\nIn a few months my father was brought home seriously ill. He got up at\nlast from his bed a wreck of his former self, only to linger for two\nyears a semi-invalid, then a recurrence of his illness took him from\nus within a few days.\n\nMy mother\u2019s mind broke down under the shock and worry, and she had to\nbe taken away, and we girls were left fatherless, as bad as\nmotherless, and penniless into the bargain. Our home was sold up, we\npaid our debts and got out of that disastrous house as soon as we\ncould. As for our uncanny experiences there\u2014we were awakened more than\nonce by sounds as if all the heavy furniture we possessed downstairs\nwas being dragged about, also by footsteps coming up the flagged path\nthat led to the front door, and by raps at the window.\n\nAlso, one evening, I remember distinctly we four girls were all\nsitting quietly sewing, when, all at once, we jumped nearly out of\nour skins at a loud rat-tat-tat at the front door. \u201cWhoever can that\nbe at this time of night?\u201d we said. My eldest sister snatched up a\nlight and ran to answer, and came back saying: \u201cThere's no one\nthere.\u201d At this moment, our dog, chained in the back yard, snapped\nhis chain and ran round the house howling piteously.\n\nWho it was, or what it was, I know not; we saw nothing, but I don\u2019t\nthink anyone would have played a trick on us at such a time when we\nwere in deep trouble. Then, too, it was a lonely place, and the house\nstood back from the road enclosed with high garden hedges, and in\nthose days country folk were not wont to travel the dark lanes at\nnine or ten at night to frighten their neighbours or, indeed, for any\npurpose unless necessity compelled them.\n\nOnly once during our stay there did we see anything. One night my\nsecond sister was awakened by the feeling that someone or something\nwas in the room, and was horrified to see the figure of an old woman,\nwith thin grey wisps of hair, bending over the bed. As she lay, too\nfrightened to call to the rest of us, the figure gradually retreated\nin the direction of the door, which led into the best bedroom.\n\nI don\u2019t care to recall these things, for even after the lapse of many\nyears their remembrance both saddens and terrifies. Was there some\nsinister influence surrounding this spot? Or were our misfortunes\njust the chances and changes of this mortal life which might have\noccurred anywhere? Who can rightly say? What happened to the next\ntenant (if there was one) I do not know. We removed to a distant\ncounty, and I have long lost touch with any I used to know who might\ngive me news of it.\n\nThe Lady with the Thimble\n\nMY aunt has often told me that, when she was staying with her mother\nat a friend's house in the city, at night time a curious tapping, as\nif with a thimble, on the door of her room used to awaken her, and\nthen something seemed to appear at the bottom of the bed which was\none of the old-fashioned four-post type. Then she would feel the bed\nshake beneath her, the shaking increasing in volume. The tapping was\nheard about a quarter to twelve, and everything ceased on the stroke\nof midnight.\n\nHer mother used to think she was dreaming, but, as she was so emphatic\nin her story, they agreed to change rooms, my grandmother sleeping in\nher daughter\u2019s room. Soon after twelve o'clock my grandmother entered\nmy aunt\u2019s bedroom, looking very frightened. \u201cYou are quite right,\u201d she\nsaid, \u201cI can\u2019t sleep there another night; I don't know how you managed\nto sleep there so long.\u201d\n\nThe next day my aunt inquired as to the occupants of the room who had\npreceded her. The host looked rather anxious. \u201cWhy,\u201d he said, \u201cmy\nmother used to sleep there; she died rather suddenly a year or two\nago, and I don\u2019t think anybody has ever occupied it since.\u201d My aunt\ntold him of what had happened, and he said that his mother was always\naccustomed to wearing a thimble, and, on entering a room, used to\nknock on the door with it. He was unable to give an explanation of the\nshaking of the bed, so that must be put down as an unfathomable\nmystery.\n\nA Reverend Gentleman\u2019s Story\n\nMY grandparents, with their two sons, lived at a lone farm about a\nmile from the village. In my early days I spent much of my time with\nthem, and often heard them speak about the visitations of \u201cthe\nghost.\u201d They quite believed the place was haunted, and, taking into\naccount my own experiences, I was led to believe the same.\n\nIt was no uncommon thing, as we were sitting round the fire in the\nevening, to hear three distinct knocks at the top of the chimney,\nwhich would gradually descend to the back of the fireplace. So used\nwere they to these rappings that they would be dismissed with just a\npassing reference.\n\nOn moonlight nights my uncles would often go out to shoot rabbits. On\none occasion, when they came back, they said they had seen a man\nsitting on the branch of a tree. They challenged him to come down,\nthinking he was a poacher in hiding, but, as they were looking at\nhim, he suddenly disappeared.\n\nOn another occasion, one night, when the snow was on the ground, one\nof my uncles came in from the village, and said there was a man\nsitting astride the wheat stack at the back of the house. My\ngrandfather took his gun and went up to the back bedroom window, and,\nlooking out, sure enough there sat the human form. My grandfather\nshouted: \u201cIf you don\u2019t come down, I'll shoot you.\u201d But before he had\ntime to raise his gun, the figure vanished. Next morning they got a\nladder and examined the roof of the rick to see if they could find\nany footprints, or if the snow had been disturbed, but not a trace\ncould be found!\n\nSometimes the ghost would appear in different shapes and forms. In\nthe winter the cattle were kept up in the yard and cow-sheds. My\ngrandfather\u2019s brother, who lived in the village, used to come up\nearly to feed them. One morning, when he had finished his work, he\ncame in and said: \u201cThe thing was in the manger again.\u201d The \u201cthing\u201d\nreferred to was a white calf, which he had seen more than once in the\nsame position, but it always disappeared when he went up to it.\n\nMy mother often referred to her experiences with the ghost when a\ngirl at home. It would come when she and her sisters were playing\naround the ricks. It took the shape of a round log, covered with long\nblack hair, full of bright spots. After rolling about for some time,\nit always finished up by going into the pond at the end of the barn.\nOn one occasion a girl with long black hair joined them at play. At\nfirst they thought it was a girl from the village, but when they\ngathered round her, she vanished.\n\nIt was in this rick yard that my cousin and I had a hair-raising\nexperience. One evening as it was getting dusk, we were romping in a\nheap of straw; then we sat down and covered ourselves up to the neck.\nSitting there, we heard a panting noise, like a horse trying to get\nits breath after a race. Looking up we were horror-struck to see a\nhuge animal like a lion, with long, shaggy hair, coming towards us.\nWe sat breathless. It then passed over our legs and disappeared\nthrough the bushes into the pond. Terrified, we ran into the house and\ntold what had happened.\n\nI had another experience later on, early one morning on the road\nleading up to the farm. Just before me I saw a white calf\u2019s head\nprojecting from the corner of a heap of stones. It was motionless, so\nI went to see what was the matter with it, but as I came up to it, it\nvanished and appeared at another corner! I then thought of the white\ncalf in the manger, and started to run. On another occasion my\nbrother and I were driving along this same road one dark night. As we\ngot to a very narrow part of the road we saw before us two large\nlights. Thinking it was a carriage with lamps we wondered how we\nshould pass. I pulled in to the left and waited. We could hear\nnothing. As the lights drew nearer they seemed to grow larger. At\nlast we saw the outline of some monster beast, and these lights were\nits eyes. I could have touched it as it passed. Neither of us spoke a\nword till we got to the village. The horse did not seem to have seen\nit.\n\nIn the course of time my grandfather gave up the farm and came to\nlive in the village, but, strange to say, the family ghost followed\nhim! Many weird and uncanny things happened about the house, some of\nwhich I could speak of from personal experience.\n\nMy grandparents have long since passed away, since when nothing more\nhas been heard of the family ghost.\n\nWhose Eyes?\n\n\u201cI SHAN'T be a minute; I\u2019m going to fetch a book from my bedroom.\u201d\n\nSo saying, I got up and smiled across the table at Mr. P., the\ngentleman boarder. \u201cLet me go,\u201d he said. \u201cCertainly not,\u201d I answered,\nand lightly ran out of the room and up the inky black stairs. There\nwas the awful soundlessness and stillness of impenetrable darkness,\nand I had to slacken my steps to feel for each stair. When I was\nabout half way up someone pushed against me from behind and tried to\ntread on the same stair as myself. I gasped and instantly thought it\nwas a practical joke that Mr. P. was playing on me, and I said\nfiercely: \u201cGo away, Mr. P.! You ought to be ashamed of yourself,\nfrightening me like that.\u201d As he didn\u2019t answer me, I turned round to\npush him away, and found Emptiness. The horror of this was so great\nthat, regardless of the danger of missing the stairs, I literally\nflew up the remainder and opened my door and rushed inside.\n\nAs I was in the act of banging the door a pair of eyes gazed at me\nout of the darkness. Oh! it was awful!\u2014Eyes without a body, gazing at\nme. I flung myself against the door to shut them out, at the same\ntime covering my eyes with my hands.\n\nMy bedroom was pitch dark. Outside, I knew I had to face unknown\nterror\u2014what was I to do? Not a sound to be heard, and the only living\npeople in that house were at the bottom of all those stairs.\n\nIf I moved from the door those eyes might come in; if I remained\nwhere I was, what unseen thing might touch me? At last I remembered a\nbit of candle and matches that were in a certain drawer. Could I find\nthe chest of drawers? At least it was worth trying.\n\nHow I got across that room I don\u2019t know, but I did, and I found that\nbit of candle and matches and lit up, and I gazed all round that room.\n\nI saw my face in the glass\u2014it appalled me, for my eyes were fairly\nbulging out of my white face.\n\nWith the comfort of the lighted candle I got downstairs. The\nlandlady, Mr. P., and my sister all remarked upon my appearance and\nasked why I had been so long. When I told them they were very\nexcited, and all went with lamps to hunt for the ghost. To them it\nwas a most exciting event; to me it was a nightmare.\n\nOf course, they found nothing.\n\nSome weeks later, when the ghost was forgotten, my sister and I were\nsitting in a room on the first floor, the door of which opened\nstraight off a tiny landing of the staircase. My sister was playing\nthe piano, and I was sitting by the fire sewing.\n\nLooking towards her, I noticed the door opening ever so slowly and\nsilently until it was wide open\u2014and no one was there. Thinking,\nsensibly, it must be the draught, I got up to close the door and,\nthere, in the doorway, on a level with my own, were the pair of eyes,\nluminous.\n\nI stood stock still and said to my sister: \u201cLook at the door!\u201d To do\nso, she had to look up and over the piano, and by so doing she looked\nstraight at those eyes. She rushed to my side shrieking. Up the\nstairs pelted Mr. P., with the landlady following, shouting up,\n\u201cWhat's the matter?\u201d\n\nHe walked right under those eyes, and, brushing back his hair with\nhis hand, he said: \u201cGreat Scott! Aren't you cold up here? Did one of\nyou shriek or call out?\u201d\n\nI was standing petrified with fright, with my sister clinging to me.\n\nIt was a moment or two before I could tell him, and then he was off in\nhot chase\u2014he was going to catch the ghost with his gun. He went and\nfetched a chum, and, together, they made enough noise to frighten an\narmy of ghosts; but they did not catch one.\n\nWe all felt a bit eerie, and Mr. P. persuaded his chum to sleep with\nhim a few nights.\n\nIt was just as well that he did, for one night, about two a.m., we\nwere all awakened by the most blood-curdling screams it is possible\nto imagine. My sister and I sat up at once and clung tight to each\nother. Mr. P. and his chum were soon hammering on our door asking\nwere we all right. The landlady was wandering about her landing in a\nvoluminous dressing gown and night cap, with a candle: a little girl\nwas sobbing in bed, and a boy slept through the lot. The men were\ndetermined to put an end to the matter, so down the cellar they went\nwith lamps and pistols, and all over the house, and right up into the\nunused attic, but nothing could be discovered.\n\nShould any reader want to think of a reasonable clue, I can only tell\nthem that the house was built in such a way that no sun could get\ninto it; it was very old and appeared to have been wedged in to block\nup a passage way between the backyard of a grocer\u2019s shop and the\nroad. The front and back of the house were built away back from the\nlevel of the other houses: the houses on both sides of it seemed to\nsqueeze the very air out of the house\u2014it was a deadly house.\n\nAs soon as I walked into the front door I used to shiver and stare\nstraight ahead of me, as if expecting things to happen. Even in the\ndaytime it was always dark as compared to other houses.\n\nA Ghostly Carpenter\n\nABOUT twenty years ago my brother D went to live in a fairly large\nhouse in North London\u2014wife and two little children with him. There was\nno basement; dining and drawing rooms faced each other from the hall,\nand, farther along, was a large, square room entirely panelled, with\noak ceiling, also, save for one corner not quite finished. Upstairs a\nback room had evidently been used as a carpenter's workshop; so my\nbrother, a keen carpenter, decided to use it himself, similarly. They\nwere only just settled in when every evening a noise of wood sawing\nbegan about seven o\u2019clock\u2014loud and distinct, with every now and then\nthe \u201cwhop\u201d as the sawn piece dropped. Many friends and relatives\nheard it. Then, in the room overhead, began sounds of carpentering;\nloud noises as if wooden boxes were dropped and pushed along; and,\nevery night, tools, which had been carefully put back in the racks,\nwere found in the morning scattered about the room.\n\nIn the oak room a swing was hung from a beam, and my brother had this\nroom as a nursery. In broad daylight, on a summer afternoon, would\ncome the sound of the swing, then a sound as if someone jumped from\nit, and the swing would go to and fro violently. Many times there\nhave been sounds of someone running quickly downstairs.\n\nA previous owner of the house was an old man who did the oak\npanelling himself, but died ere it was finished.\n\nMy brother and family still occupy the house, and have grown so\naccustomed to \u201cBill, the carpenter,\u201d as they call him, that the\nnoises do not trouble them at all. Sometimes these noises stop for a\nwhile, and then go on again louder than ever.\n\nThere is absolutely no earthly explanation, but I do know it is\nperfectly true, and many have heard the noises.\n\nAnother Reverend\u2019s Story\n\nA REVEREND gentleman tells the following story:\u2014\n\nIn an old house in a cathedral town the ghost of a tall, elderly\nwoman dressed in black recently gave much trouble to the inmates. The\nladies living in the house saw the apparition constantly, and got\nquite accustomed to it, but very few servants would stay in the\nhouse.\n\nThe climax came when the cook was found in a fainting condition and\nsaid that the ghost had tried to strangle her, and showed the marks\nof fingers on her throat.\n\nSomething had to be done. A clergyman from the cathedral was called\nin and exorcised the ghost, whereupon the trouble instantly ceased.\n\nInvestigation showed that a woman, answering to the apparition, had\ncommitted suicide in the house about fifty years previously. An\ninteresting point is that the ghost was seen in every part of the\nhouse except the room in which the tragedy had taken place.\n\nThe Girl in White\n\nSOME three or four years ago I was present at a Christmas party, when\nthe talk turned on ghosts. A gentleman present remarked that ghost\nstories were almost always second-hand. He had never, he declared,\nmet anyone who could say that he or she had actually seen a ghost.\n\nA lady\u2014a great friend of my own\u2014at once replied, and, as nearly as I\ncan remember it, I will give the story in her own words:\u2014\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d she said, \u201cyou have now met one who has really seen a\nghost. My husband here, and others, are well acquainted with the\nstory. I was, at the time, staying with my aunt in an old house,\nthree flats up, in \u2014\u2014\u2014 Edinburgh. The beautifully carved mantelpiece,\nand peculiar markings on the walls, supposed to have been caused by\ncannon ball, showed that the house had once been occupied by some of\nthe old Scottish nobility.\n\n\u201cIt was in the gathering dusk of a summer evening that I tripped\nmerrily down the stairs to meet George. We were not married then, but\ncourting. Near the foot of the first stair I was surprised to see a\ngirlish figure, clad in white, come gliding up the stairs. Her face\nwas in shadow, but her dark hair floated over her shoulders. As she\ncame nearer, something impelled me to lay my hand on the railing and\ngo backwards step by step. She came on slowly, and, retreating so, I\nhad time to see her figure quite distinctly though her face and feet\nremained in shadow. Her white dress was filled with tiny frills right\nup to the waist. She wore a girdle of narrow black velvet that fell\nin loops on the left side. There was black velvet at her wrists, and,\nI think, at her throat. Also I distinctly saw red strands of hair\namongst the brown.\n\n\u201cI felt no sensation of fear\u2014only a sort of fascination\u2014till I reached\nthe top of the stair. I turned my head to see if my aunt's door was\nopen, and found it was. Then, somehow, such terror seized me I could\nnot look round again, but, screaming loudly, I ran inside and shut\nthe door.\n\n\u201cMy aunt, who had been chatting to a neighbour, came rushing in, and\nshe and others were enraged to think that someone had so frightened\nme. The stairs, back court, and everywhere about was searched, but I\nknew they might have saved their pains. The girl I saw was no\nordinary being of flesh and blood. Nothing happened afterwards; no\nwarning had been conveyed, nor could anyone identify my girlish ghost\nwith any known celebrity who had lived there. I do not know why she\ncame, nor why she appeared to me, but she was there and, for the\nmoment, was as real as myself.\u201d\n\nThis lady knows nothing about clairvoyance, had never attended a\nSpiritualists\u2019 meeting in her life, and her simple narrative impressed\nall present as an absolutely true statement. She died last summer, but\nher husband could, I am sure, testify to the truth of what is here\nrelated.\n\n\u201cThe Old Master\u201d\n\nIN the eventide of a busy life I find a pleasant relaxation from my\nlittle daily duties in reading different items in the Daily News, and\nhave been especially interested in those letters on \u201cVisitants.\u201d These\nhave brought to my mind incidents which have taken place during my\nlifetime.\n\nIn my young days ghosts were much believed in, and some were seen\nwhich afterwards were proved to be the work of foolish young fellows.\n\nBut a short distance from my father\u2019s house was a nice old farm where\na well-known family had lived for several generations. The\ngrandfather of the then resident family had been quite a unique\ncharacter in the district, and had been known as \u201cthe old master.\u201d A\ngrandson, who had been abroad for a considerable time, returned to\nthe old home, bringing a manservant with him. A spare room not being\navailable for the man, a comfortable bed was made for him in the big\nfarm-kitchen.\n\nThe house had for some time had the reputation of being haunted, but\nof this the man knew nothing. However, in the early morning he\nsuddenly woke up to see a stout old gentleman walking down a long\npassage which was opposite the bed. He came noiselessly into the\nkitchen, and the old sheep dog that lay on the mat by the fireplace\nat once jumped up, wagging its tail, and ran to him, when he vanished\nfrom sight.\n\nIn the morning the man related his experience to the family, and, on\nbeing questioned, gave an exact description of \u201cthe old master.\u201d\n\nThe Little Grey Lady\n\nWITHIN three miles of my native city, on the outskirts of a little\nvillage, rather isolated by its grounds and its position on a slight\neminence, stands a picturesque verandahed dwelling, which at one time\nwas inhabited by elderly cousins of mine. Their father lived with\nthem, and when very occasionally they left him in the house alone for\na time, he invariably remarked that they need not mind, for he always\nhad someone near him. This was his only reference to the spirit which\nhaunted the place. Later, the house passed into the possession of\ntownsfolk, who removed to it on account of the failing health of\ntheir only child. They had been there only a few days when a\nfrightened scream from the child\u2019s room made them both rush to it, to\nfind her sitting up in bed, with eyes protruding and cheeks blanched.\nOn seeing them, she wildly shrieked: \u201cThe little grey lady, the\nlittle grey lady! She has gone through the wall.\u201d They soothed her,\nbut could not persuade her that it was merely a nightmare.\n\nWithin a week of this, the father chanced to be absent from home for\na few days, and the mother shared the child\u2019s room. Again the wild\ncry arose, suddenly wakening her, and she, with the child, beheld the\nfigure of a little old woman, garbed in a grey shawl and apron, who\nmoved with the aid of a stick, making a strange little stumping\nnoise. She paused by a dressing chest, and appeared to search\nanxiously for something, then just faded out.\n\nFor some little time these folk stayed in the house and frequently\nheard the tap of her stick, but did not see her again. The strain of\nthe possibility of doing so, however, so told upon them that they\nmoved. Before doing so the lady approached another relative of mine\nwho had lived many years in the neighbourhood, and asked her if she\ncould in any way account for the apparition. She was able to tell her\nthe story which she had heard from an old nurse, who had attended the\n\u201clittle grey lady\u201d in her last illness. It appears that she had\nsorely wronged her children, misjudging them and leaving her worldly\ngoods to others. At the last she was quite unable to speak, but made\npathetic efforts to communicate something which was evidently very\nmuch on her mind, at the same time pointing in the direction in which\nthe lady and her child had seen her searching. Nothing was ever\nfound, but one cannot help thinking that the little grey lady had\nmade an effort to right the wrong by trying to tell where some\ndocument was hidden.\n\nThis story has been known to me for many years, and I always look\ncuriously at the old place as I pass, and wonder if the restless\nspirit has at last found peace.\n\nA Convincing Experience\n\nAS children we were taught that only ignorant people believed in\nghosts, and at twenty-one years of age I would have slept, without a\ntremor, in any room reported to be haunted. At that age I went to\nstay with a recently-married brother in a modern and comfortable\nhouse near Manchester.\n\nOn the first night, at about twelve o\u2019clock, I was still awake. A dim\nlight came from the street gas, and the fire that was nearly out; but\nit was too dark to see anything distinctly. Suddenly something leant\nover me, and fear that no words can describe possessed me. My hair\nseemed to prick me, and intense cold seemed to penetrate to my heart.\nI thought if it went on I should die. No thought of burglar or any\nphysical danger entered my mind. From the first instant I knew that\nthis was something from outside normal human life\u2014something \u201cghostly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho are you? What do you want?\u201d I gasped to the vague form leaning\nover me. There was no answer. Suddenly it was gone. I jumped out of\nbed, lit the gas, and left it full on. In the daylight I dared not\ntell my tale and ask to change my room; I knew how I should have\nregarded such a tale the day before. When I went to bed the second\nnight I left the gas dimly alight. Towards midnight I felt suddenly\ncold, and my hair began to prick. I jumped up and turned the gas on\nfull. The fear and cold passed away.\n\nThe next night I left the gas full on. Towards midnight I was aware\nof a little sudden cold, a little sense of panic, but both passed\nquickly. After that third night nothing happened.\n\nSome weeks later, when I was no longer afraid, I told my brother that\nsomething had leant over me in bed. He looked amazed; and, with a sort\nof horror, I saw that something he knew would give reason for the\nterror I had felt.\n\nHe said the house had been untenanted for some years because the room\nI slept in was reported to be haunted. A woman had either fallen or\nthrown herself from the window and had been killed, and she was said\nto lean over the bed. My brother utterly disbelieved the tale, and\nforgot it. Had he mentioned it to me I should have laughed at it and\ngone to bed in that room without a tremor.\n\nThose are the facts. I cannot explain them, but in Hudson's Psychic\nPhenomena\u201d there is a very possible explanation of such apparitions.\n\nThe Hooded Lady\n\nMY father was a Nonconformist minister. In the autumn of 18\u2014 he went\nto reside in the country town of W\u2014\u2014, which has the distinction of\npossessing a large county gaol.\n\nGoing down, as a schoolgirl, to spend my first Christmas holidays\nthere, I was astonished to find such a palatial \u201cmanse.\u201d It was\nsituated a mile out of the town, had a square turreted tower, an old\nmoat (then the channel for a running stream), an encircling\nverandah, stabling for four horses, and a long carriage drive, at the\ngates of which was an old, ivy-covered, uninhabited lodge\u2014an\naltogether unusual dwelling for its modest tenant!\n\nThe only room in the turreted tower was occupied by my father as his\n\u201cstudy,\u201d but he rarely made his sermons in it, we children observed,\nand when asked why, he would reply evasively that he always felt\nchilly and uncomfortable there.\n\nOn the night of Christmas Eve, I was restless and fidgety. A younger\nsister occupied another bed in the same room, but she soon dropped\noff to sleep. It was a moonlight night, so I drew up my blind and lay\nwatching the fitful shadows of a tree outside as they played over my\nwalls.\n\nAt last I had an uncanny feeling that another presence was added to\nthe occupants of the large old bedroom. I looked towards the door and\nsaw a dark figure gliding through it, apparently in a cloak, the hood\nof which encircled the small white face of a woman.\n\nI sprang up frightened. The dark figure walked slowly towards me,\nthen deviated to the window, and, without opening it, went through to\nthe verandah. I ran across to my sister's bed, thinking she was\nplaying a trick on me, but, no, she lay there fast asleep.\n\nI had no sleep that night, you may be sure. On telling my story at\nthe breakfast-table next morning, I was merely told that I had been\nreading too many Christmas ghost stories and had doubtless had a bad\nnightmare. Though hardly convinced, I dropped the subject.\n\nA few weeks later my father sent me with a note to the office of a\nsolicitor in the town, an elderly man who was deeply versed in all\nthe topographical, historical and social knowledge of the place. He\nwas a Celt, and the custodian of half the human secrets of the\ndistrict, which may or may not bear on the rest of my story. As I was\nleaving, he asked in a friendly fashion: \u201cHow do you like the manse?\u201d\n\nTaken aback somewhat, I replied: \u201cOh, very much, but\u2014er\u2014\u201d His\nspectacled, curious eyes seemed seeking some private confidence.\n\n\u201c\u2018But' what? You haven\u2019t seen the manse ghost, I suppose? You have! I\ncan see it in your face. Well, did it frighten you?\u201d\n\nSeeing that evasion was impossible, I replied: \u201cYes, it did\u2014but\nfather\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, never mind your father. He pooh-poohed it, no doubt. Not psychic\nenough to see it himself, of course. Tell me about it.\u201d\n\nHalf ashamed, I told my little story. When I had finished, he pulled\nup his office chair confidentially and said in a low voice: \u201cThe\nstewards of my church bought the manse some ten years ago very\ncheaply on account of its reputation for being haunted. Most of its\ntenants since, being religious men, like your father, have never been\ntroubled by the story and never see anything spectral; being\ntemperamentally unable to, probably. But you, young lady, are\ndoubtless psychic and therefore have been privileged. I'll now tell\nyou the story its reputation is founded on.\n\n\u201cFifteen Christmases ago a young lady visitor came to stay at what\nyou now know as the manse. A wealthy, rather profligate young\nbachelor in the town fell in love with her and persecuted her with\nhis attentions. She rejected his suit. On Christmas Eve he\naccompanied her home from a local party. As she did not return, her\nfriends set out in the early morning to look for her and found her\nlying dead in her evening cloak and hood just outside the little\nlodge at the gates.\n\n\u201cSuspicion fell on her rejected suitor. He was tried for murder and\nhanged in the local gaol here, the last execution, by the way, that\nhas taken place. It is said that every Christmas Eve this poor girl's\nspirit comes back and haunts the place of the tragedy.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo you think the hooded lady I saw was the spirit of that poor young\ngirl?\u201d I questioned, horrified.\n\n\u201cUndoubtedly, and it interests me exceedingly that you have had this\nexperience before either hearing the story or the traditional\nreputation of the house. Probably I ought not to have told you, but,\nas every Christmas comes round, I, as a believer in psychic\nphenomena, look expectantly for someone to corroborate this\ntradition. Do not be troubled; the ghost will not appear again this\nyear. Good morning!\u201d\n\nI spent several more Christmases at the manse, but never again saw\nthe ghost.\n\nI leave it to my readers to decide how much my youth and temperament\nand my old friend the solicitor\u2019s Celtic bias towards the romantic\nand the occult had to do with my sincere belief in the objective\nreality of that hooded lady whom I saw twenty years ago.\n\nUncle\u2019s Story\n\nOn special occasions, a great-uncle of mine regales the family with\nthe story of the ghost he saw.\n\nHow he awoke, one night, with the uneasy feeling that someone or\nsomething was near, and how he saw a little lady clad in brown at his\nbedside; how he thought it was his wife because she, too, was small,\nbut, on second thoughts, knew her to be asleep at his side; how he\nsaw the \u201clittle brown lady\u201d walk\u2014not glide\u2014into a large cupboard at\nthe end of the room; how he roused his wife, and how she, not he, went\nto the cupboard, only to find no trace of the \u201clittle lady.\u201d\n\nAll this he recounts, and, on his word as a Christian, swears it to\nbe true. He appeals to his wife, who nods, and tells us of the colour\nof his face, of the beads of perspiration on his brow, and emphasises\nhow terrified he was, and that it was she who investigated.\n\nIf a member of the circle ventures to suggest that it was the\nafter-effects of a good supper, my uncle has his answer ready, and\nrecommences: How a special organist, playing in the village, stayed\nat his house for the night; how, next day at breakfast, on being\nasked how he slept, he replied, \u2018Very fair, but I have had a\ndisagreeable nightmare,\u2019 how the organist had seen a \u201clittle lady\u201d\nenter his room, walk to his bedside, and then disappear into a\ncupboard.\n\nThis is the final point in the narrative, and my uncle sits up\nstraight in his chair and exclaims, \u201cHere's his address, go to him\nand ask him; he is still alive!\u201d And the doubting one does not move\u2014my\nuncle\u2019s ghost story has another believer. We of the family know that\nour uncle would never have told of the incident if he had not\nactually experienced it, and are, thus, bound to believe in ghosts.\nYet this ghost signified nothing\u2014no one died, neither misfortune nor\npleasant surprise occurred, and we have no family tradition.\n\nThe Ghost Horse of the Derbyshire Moors\n\nSOME years ago a friend of ours bought a house which was spoken of\nfor miles around as \u201chaunted\u201d; one family after another had at\nvarious times lived at the place, but each of them, in turn, abruptly\ngave up the tenancy, declaring the house was indeed haunted. All\nround the house was a wide drive, and the story ran that every\nmidnight at certain periods of the year a horse was heard to gallop\nround the drive, and, at times, reared itself so high as to touch the\nbedroom windows.\n\nThough the horse itself was not visible, it was known to be a white\none, and sometimes sent out flashing lights.\n\nAs soon as our friend was settled in the place, he invited my husband\nand I to go and stay with him. We readily accepted, just laughing at\nthe ghost story, and, up to the moment of going to bed, we joked\nabout the whole thing. We had been in bed only a short time when we\nheard the regular gallop, gallop, of a horse going round the drive.\nIt was too real to make any mistake, and we both seemed to freeze\nwith fear and, for a few minutes, were unable to speak. When my\nhusband had gained a little self-control, he struck a light, and we\nsaw the fingers of his watch pointed to a few minutes after midnight.\nThe galloping had now ceased, but there was no sleep for us. As we\nlay awake, each resolving inwardly that, so soon as morning came, we\nwould with all speed make for our own home, another terrifying thing\nhappened. It was as though someone had given the shutter of our\nbedroom window a heavy blow. Being, by this time, quite unnerved, I\ngave a low moan of despair, but my husband made one big leap for the\nwindow, and through the light that was just breaking, he saw the\noutline of a huge bat, just flying away from the shutter. Evidently\nit had hit the shutter in its flight, and had caused the rattle which\nhad so upset us. So that was one ghost accounted for! But that did not\nexplain away the gallop of the horse, as by this time we neither of\nus had any doubts regarding its presence in the grounds.\n\nAs the house was walled in on all sides it was obvious no stray\nanimal could have entered, and we felt, as morning drew near, we\nshould have no option but to join in the general belief that there\nreally was something uncanny about the place.\n\nAs we sat down to breakfast the following morning our host greeted us\nwith\u2014\u201cWell, did you see or hear the ghost?\u201d He laughed merrily as we\nreplied, \u201cWe did, and have had no sleep, and there are two people\nhere who are clearing out as soon as possible\u2014without breakfast for\npreference.\u201d\n\nHe then said, \u201cWell it may interest you to know I have laid the ghost\nhorse, but thought I\u2019d let you have one night before I explained.\u201d He\nsaid, \u201cThe first night my wife and I slept here we heard the gallop,\ngallop, quite clearly, just at the time we had been told we should\nhear it. My wife became angry as well as frightened and laid the\nblame on me, saying, \u2018Why did you buy such a place\u2014you might have\nknown all the people who have tried to live here could not have been\nmistaken. I shall not stay in the house another day, and if your\nmoney is lost, it's lost.\u2019\n\n\u201cShe left the house the next morning. I determined I would fathom the\nmatter, for, truth to tell, my own confidence had been somewhat\nshaken. So, the next night, instead of going to bed, I decided I\nwould walk out into the country, returning at the time the phantom\nhorse was supposed to appear. I walked about half a mile and came to\nthe turnpike road where I saw and spoke to a policeman. Whilst I was\ntalking to him a high dog cart passed us, carrying two brightly\nburning lamps. I made some remark to the policeman about the driver\u2019s\nlonely drive, when he said, \u2018Yes, Lord \u2014\u2014\u2014 is in residence at \u2014\u2014\u2014\nHall, and he sends his groom to town every night with his letters, in\ntime to catch the midnight mail; he always returns about this time. I\nknow exactly when he is returning, even if I am by that house on the\nhill there (my house), nearly a mile away.\u2019 \u2018Why, how is that?\u2019 I\nqueried. \u2018Well,\u2019 he replied, \u2018the echo of his horse galloping is so\nclear in the still of the night, and, as he passes certain gaps in\nthe hedges, his lights shine more clearly than any other lights that\npass this way.\u2019 I then told him why I was out at that time of night\nand asked him if ever he had heard the story connected with my house,\nto which he answered, \u2018No; I have been in this part of the country\nonly a few months, and it is only within the past month that I have\nnoticed the echo.\u2019\n\nWell, the next night we tested his explanation together, and that was\nhow we laid the \u2018ghost horse of the Derbyshire Moors.\u2019\u201d\n\nA Ghost Story from Wales\n\nTHE following is an authentic story which I obtained first hand from\na fellow traveller whilst waiting for a train on the small station of\nFerryside, Carmarthenshire (Wales).\n\nHe had, it appears, unfortunately missed the earlier train of the day\nand, to pass away an idle hour or two, had visited the old castle in\nthe district. He had some difficulty in obtaining the key, and, so, on\nreaching the castle, was not surprised to find that the door was not\nto be opened easily, as it was obvious that the castle is seldom\nvisited these days. At length, when the door did open, imagine his\nsurprise at finding an apparently well set up woman staring at him.\nThinking it must be some sort of caretaker, he essayed to speak to\nher, but, to his great consternation, she disappeared. This so\nstartled my companion that he returned at once to the station, where\nI met him very much shaken by his experience.\n\nWe, later, got into conversation with a resident, who informed us\nthat the castle had the reputation for being haunted, and this was\nthe generally accepted story:\u2014\n\nMany years ago, when knights, maids and dragons ruled the romantic\nworld, there lived a maid within the castle who was betrothed to a\nyoung knight of a neighbouring domain. The day of the wedding was\nfixed and all would have ended happily were it not for a great\ntragedy which overcame the proceedings. One day, just after paying\nhis court to the young lady, the knight was set upon by robbers,\nkilled, and his body flung into the moat. His fianc\u00e9e could see all\nthis, but was unable to help, but she was so overcome that she threw\nherself over the parapet into the moat after him. The body of the\nknight was found some time later washed up on the sea-shore, but that\nof the maid was never discovered, and the belief is that she still\nhaunts the castle awaiting the arrival of her beloved.\n\nA Daylight Ghost Story\n\nSOME years ago, some friends took a house for three months at the\nseaside. In August, I went to stay with them arriving about three on\na sunny afternoon. Coming downstairs from the bedroom, I had to pass\nthe open door of a room immediately at the foot of the stairs.\nStanding just inside, with her back towards me, was a woman dressed\nin drab, and with her hair arranged in an old-fashioned way; she was\nlooking out of a window, and I paused a moment wondering who it was.\nI continued my way down and, when within three yards of her, the\nfigure vanished. I went into the room, looked all round\u2014no one there.\nThen I realised it was a ghost.\n\nNext day I saw a coloured photo of a woman with dress and hair just\nlike the apparition\u2019s. It was not until some weeks later that we were\ntold the portrait was of the owner's first wife. The house had been\nleft her by a relative, and she had planned to have the window, at\nwhich I had seen her standing, changed into a bow. Sudden illness\nseized her and she died, trying to say something about the window.\n\nSome other friends who had the house lent them before this time, saw\nthe figure of a woman going before them up the stairs, but there was\nno one. Another friend was sitting on the lawn facing that window\nwhen the house was empty, and saw the figure of a woman pass across\nit. She went into the house\u2014no one there\u2014all doors locked.\n\nIt was not until months later that we told each other what we had seen.\n\nAre not these apparitions what Mrs. Besant calls \u201cthought-forms?\u201d\nThis woman knew nothing of me; her thoughts came back to the familiar\nspot and the familiar dress. When I came too near this \u201cform\u201d\napparently so solid, but as evanescent as a soap bubble, it broke and\nvanished.\n\n\u201cThe Very Same Ghost\u201d\n\nAS a young medical student on holiday I used often to stay with a\ndoctor uncle, and even now, looking back after all these years, I\nfeel grateful for all I learnt while accompanying him on his rounds.\n\nUncle Will was a bachelor, too matter-of-fact and prosaic ever to\nfall in love, I thought. The more surprised, therefore, was I one day\nto hear him recount his treatment of a patient, a young lady\nsuffering only from what to me seemed an acute attack of hysteria,\nnothing more. This patient was one of those highly-strung young\nladies who easily develop hysteria, and the story she narrated to\nUncle Will of what had brought her to the pitiful state she was in\nseemed to me a tissue of rubbish. She vividly described her meeting\nwith a real ghost on her way home late from a party, alone, through\nsome accidental misunderstanding. Her way lay past a lonely mansion\ninfrequently occupied, rich in historical associations, but so far\nunclaimed by any ghost. Miss S\u2014\u2014\u2014, however, succeeded in describing\nthe one she saw in great detail, from his cavalier hat to his buckled\nshoes. He was leaning against a gate through which she had to pass,\nand he moved aside courteously to make way for her. She thanked him,\nand to her horror, he vanished into thin air. The clear moonlight and\nthe snow combined to make any rational explanation impossible.\n\nThat was her tale. \u201cA silly fanciful girl, over-excited by the\nevening's pleasure,\u201d was my comment.\n\n\u201cYet this girl came a distance of three miles through the worst\nthunderstorm we've had for years, in the dead of night, to fetch me\nto her sick mother a short while ago,\u201d answered Uncle Will, and then\nadded: \u201cGood thing I\u2019m her medical man and not a raw fellow like you,\nladdie; I can understand her, because (I have told no one else) I\nmyself have seen at the very same place the very same ghost.\u201d\n\nThe Phantom Carriage\n\nSOME years ago, whilst staying at a little town in Somerset, I became\nacquainted with the chauffeur of a family who resided in a stately\nold mansion, standing in a large and well-kept park.\n\nOne evening, as the family were away, I was invited to pay my friend\na visit. The walk of two miles brought me to the drive gates, and\nfrom there to the house was about three-quarters of a mile across the\npark, which was divided in several places by iron railings, having\nwhite gates across the drive. These were always kept closed when the\nfamily were away.\n\nAfter a chat and smoke with my friend, I started my homeward journey\nabout 9:30, it being a beautiful moonlight night. I had got about\none-third of the way down the drive when a pair of carriage lamps\nloomed out ahead, and knowing the people were away, I was surprised\nto meet a conveyance coming to the house so late at night. The lights\ncame nearer and I could distinctly hear the horses\u2019 hoofs on the\ndrive. I had just reached one of the gates and decided to stay and\nhold it open for the vehicle to pass. On came the two-horse carriage\nwhich was now quite visible, and I shouted to the driver that I would\nhold the gate open for him, but I got no reply. The carriage was now\nwithin about ten yards, when, suddenly, the whole lot disappeared.\n\nOne can quite imagine my feelings as I clung to the gate, not knowing\nwhether to go forward or back to the house. I learned afterwards that\nthis conveyance had been seen several years before by some of the old\nservants.\n\nLondon\n\nCRYPTS have always held a strange fascination for me. Although a\nstaunch sceptic, I am deeply interested in psychical research, and I\nhave systematically sought out crypts on the supposition that if\nthere are such things as ghosts they would surely prefer to manifest\nthemselves in those creepy vaults. But only once has a ghost appeared\nto me, and that was in the crypt of a hoary old church in\nLincolnshire. I was quite alone; the verger was away from home, and I\nhad to borrow the keys from the rector. It was late on a September\nafternoon and the light, even with the aid of my bicycle lamp, was\nvery dim. I wandered around, examining dates on tombs until, passing\nbehind a pillar, I was scared to see a man dressed in black leaning\nagainst the recumbent effigy of some medieval worthy. \u201cThat must be\nthe verger, after all,\u201d I thought; \u201cbut how strange! He must have\nduplicate keys.\u201d So I approached him\u2014cautiously, I admit\u2014and, as I\ndid so, he rose slowly, raised a deprecating hand, as though to stop\nmy advance, and then gradually vanished into space! The dark eeriness\nof the place rather got on my nerves, and I slipped out quickly to\ntell the rector of my experience. \u201cAh!\u201d said he, \u201cyou've evidently\nseen Black Robert the Monk. There's a legend here that in the\nfifteenth century the poor fellow was locked in the crypt for some\noffence; but they forgot all about him for a time and when they went\nto release him, he was stark dead. His ghost appears occasionally,\nand the visitation, strange to say, is said to bring the church good\nluck. One would have expected him to cherish a grudge. Anyhow, last\ntime, a wealthy patron gave \u00a3100 to our fund. This time\u2014er\u2014\u201d \u201cIt will\nbe only half a crown,\u201d I responded.\n\nAn Unwelcome Travelling Companion\n\nA MOST weird experience I once had made me less cynical about\nghosts. I travelled regularly by the 8:30 a.m. train to the town\nwhere I worked, and the train was usually crowded with business\npeople. I soon began to notice that one compartment was always empty,\nbut for no apparent reason. One morning, arriving at the last minute,\nI climbed into the deserted carriage as the whistle sounded. I\nsettled down to a book and gave no thought to my solitude. The train\nhad been travelling some minutes when I was disturbed by a slight\nnoise which sounded like subdued sobbing. It was not a corridor\ntrain, so I could only explore beneath the seats, but found nothing\nthere. I eventually put it down to the noise of the engine, but, as\nthe train gathered speed, the noise became distinct from any other\nsound and seemed to get louder and more plaintive. The thought of the\ncoming tunnel made my heart beat quickly. The sobbing stopped before\nwe reached the tunnel, however, but, as the overpowering darkness\nengulfed the carriage, I had a ghastly sensation of being choked.\nThis lasted for at least two minutes. I tried to cry out, but,\nperhaps from sheer fright, no sound came from my throat. As we\nsteamed out of the tunnel, the sobbing re-started, but, after a\nwhile, panted itself into silence, which seemed to my now hysterical\nnerves more terrible than the wailing noise itself. I practically\ntottered out of that train on reaching my destination, and was not\nsurprised to learn afterwards that there had been a suicide in that\ncompartment which accounted for the passengers avoiding it.\n\nThe Black Dog of the Cotswolds\n\nWEST-COUNTRYMEN are very sensitive to ridicule. That is why a\nstranger might inquire from Bath to Bredon without obtaining a single\nadmission concerning the Black Dog of the Cotswolds. But let him live\namongst us; let him gain our confidence, and he may interview\nwitnesses by the dozen. Few, indeed, have met the creature face to\nface, though many claim a distant glimpse, and it would be hard to\nfind a shepherd past middle-age who had not come upon the foot-prints\nof the phantom, starting from nowhere and leading nowhere, in the\nearly morning snow. Always in the snow he comes and always by\nmoonlight. It is now some three years since old Dick Slingbraces\npassed to rest, leaving the following story to perpetuate his memory.\n\n\u201cDogs or foxes had been making havoc with the early lambs,\u201d said he;\n\u201cand one February night I took my gun to watch for the varmints in\nthe lee of the sheeppens, there being mebbe an inch of snow on the\nland. The east wind was like a knife from the grindstone, with clouds\nracing past the moon well on in her second quarter. I might have\nclosed my eyes for a second or two with the cold, and when I opened\nthem, sir, there he stood not thirty yards away\u2014a coal-black hound\nbigger than a prize ram, and of no breed on earth. I knew him in an\ninstant\u2014the Black Dog of the Wolds. Now you don\u2019t shoot a dog until\nhe takes a lamb if you want the law on your side, but, fearing for my\nlife, I pointed my gun at him\u2014and he vanished to nowhere. I dropped\nthe muzzle and, all of a shake, I peeped over my shoulder, only to\nsee him behind me, the moonlight striking into his eyes like blue\nflames. With a choking, dizzy feeling I screwed my old gums together\nand up with my gun again\u2014and again he vanished. Ay, and again he was\nbehind me. How long he played with me in this fashion I don\u2019t\nrecollect, but, in the end, the gun went off of itself, and the next\nthing my grandson George, was helping me up and asking me if I felt\nbetter. And being three-score and ten, the following week I put by my\ncrook and took to my old age pension. They say,\u201d added the old\nshepherd, \u201che mostly comes as a warning that \u2018tis time to retire; but\nI will mention that morning showed the snow trampled like a\nfold-yard, but never a print beyond the boundary wall.\u201d\n\nIt Happened in Ireland\n\nMANY years ago, I used to visit a brother and sister-in-law living in\na rambling old house in Ireland. Nightly, the household would gather\nin the dining-room for prayers, after which we retired to our\nrooms\u2014the maids to their quarters at the far end of the house\u2014my\nbrother and sister-in-law would leave me at my door and then pass\ndown the corridor to their own room.\n\nI am usually a sound sleeper. Nevertheless, midnight would find me\nawake listening to the ructions in the dining-room below\u2014the click,\nclick of glasses and decanters, excited voices, doors opening,\nbanging\u2014after a little while, silence. On the first occasion I asked\nmy brother why he made so much unnecessary noise at midnight. He\nlooked troubled and simply remarked that he had not gone downstairs\nagain. I tackled my sister-in-law, but all to no purpose. Deciding\nthat they were indulging in drinking bouts on the sly, I said no more.\n\nOne night, however, feeling very tired and unable to sleep because of\nthe noise, I was furious and decided to see for myself what my\nrelations were up to. I slipped on my dressing-gown and slippers and\nmade for my door; but not before the handle was turned violently and,\nalthough in total darkness, I could feel a current of air from the\nopen door (I always locked it before retiring). Then a tremendous\n\u201cForce\u201d seemed to be pushing me backwards towards the bed, where,\nconscious of another \u201cpresence\u201d in the room, I fell back exhausted.\n\nMy brother and sister-in-law listened attentively to the recital of\nthe previous night\u2019s happenings, expressed their regret for so\ndisturbed a night, and advised me to forget all about it.\n\nNot a little chagrined at their reticence, I resolved to return home\nat once.\n\nOn the way to the station, I met the clergyman\u2014a very intellectual\nman\u2014who happened to be a frequent visitor at the house. I related the\nmidnight happenings, my surmise, and, lastly, the unaccountable\nexperience of the previous night. I quite expected him to pooh-pooh\nthe whole thing. Instead, he looked very grave, said that in olden\ntimes the surrounding hills were infested by a band of particularly\nmurderous brigands who made that house their occasional headquarters.\nMen were decoyed, robbed and disposed of within its gates. \u201cAnd,\u201d he\nended, \u201cwe can but pray and hope that the poor, unquiet spirits may\nbe granted a final resting-place. Do not, my child, make it a subject\nof idle gossip.\u201d\n\nA School Teacher's Story\n\nSOME years ago, I, along with a sister ten years older than myself,\nwas teaching in a Midland town. We had the greatest difficulty in\nobtaining rooms, no one seemed to want lady teachers. At last we\nsucceeded, but not to our liking, as the house was old and gloomy and\nthe landlady of a very saturnine countenance. We found she and her\ndaughter were the only other occupants of the house.\n\nAs it was winter time, we asked if she had an attic where we could\nstore our bikes. We were told that there was no attic.\n\nWe were nightly disturbed by strange sounds as of someone going up\nand down stairs and raking the fire\u2014this, after the landlady and her\ndaughter had retired hours before. When questioned, the landlady only\nreplied that the house was old and creaky.\n\nI was eighteen and full of ghosts, but my sister was of the cool\nunimaginative kind and not in the least nervy. She was constantly\nreassuring me that everything was all right, but I knew she thought\ndifferent, as she never left me alone, and we always went up stairs\ntogether, even in the day time.\n\nOur bedroom looked out on to the river, and the Midland railway ran\nbetween.\n\nA chest of drawers stood in one corner, and one of the drawers was\nfull of papers, which the landlady informed us were left by a\nprevious boarder who had occupied our rooms, and promised to return\nfor them. Several were legal-looking documents, and the rest a mass\nof old correspondence.\n\nOne day, as I was leaving the bath-room, a gleam of winter sunshine\nrevealed an opening in the panelling opposite. On looking I saw a\nstair and a tray at the bottom with the remains of a meal. I\nimmediately brought my sister. To say we were amazed is putting it\nmildly, after our landlady\u2019s denial of an attic. We felt this had\nbeen the repast of our nightly disturber, but did not mention it to\nthe landlady.\n\nA few nights after, there was a singular happening. I awoke in the\nearly hours to find my sister sitting up in bed. I drowsily asked her\nif she was ill, but she answered rather abruptly and told me to go to\nsleep. I was roused by her manner and sat up trying to peer into her\nface. After much questioning, she said: \u201cThere has been a man in this\nroom.\u201d Although I was terrified, I tried to laugh and say \u201cThat is\nimpossible as our door is locked and bolted.\u201d\n\nMy thoughts had gone to the occupant of the attic. She said: \u201cThis\nwas no human visitor; he went over to the chest and examined the\npapers, and then came and leaned over the bed in a grief-stricken\nattitude.\u201d She was so calm whilst telling it and described the man as\nvery tall and slightly bent, with a sad face and iron-grey hair.\n\nNeedless to add, we prayed for daylight and got to school as early as\npossible, where our ghost caused great excitement, the other teachers\ngiving credence to the story, coming from my sister and not my\nimaginative self.\n\nOn returning to our rooms for lunch, the landlady came in with a\nnewspaper and pointed out a paragraph giving an account of a man\nbeing cut to pieces on the railway just at the back of the house. She\nsaid, \u201cHe had your rooms Miss, and those were his papers.\u201d My sister\nsaid he was a tall man and went on to give the landlady a description\nof our midnight visitor. She said: \u201cWhy, Miss, did you know him,\u201d and\nthen my sister told her the story. She said it was an exact likeness\nof the man who had always promised to return for the papers. That\nexplains our ghostly visitor. We made a hasty exit that same day.\n\nWeeks after, we heard of the police raiding the house and capturing\nan escaped prisoner. It was the landlady\u2019s husband, and she had had\nhim in hiding all those weeks. That explained the tread on the stairs\nand the raking of the fire when the prisoner escaped from his attic\nhiding.\n\n\nOTHER STORIES OF HAUNTED HOUSES\n\nA MAGISTRATE\u2019S STORY\n\nTHIS comes from a Justice of the Peace in the Western Counties:\n\nRetiring to bed one Sunday night to my room situate off a rather long\nlanding in an old farmhouse near here, I slept from about 10:30 p.m.\nto about 1:30 a.m. I was then awakened by hissing noises\u2014very similar\nto those made by a flock of geese\u2014coming from the landing. This was\nfollowed by footsteps proceeding to a spare room at the end of the\nlanding. The footsteps died away, and immediately there commenced a\nviolent rattling of empty milk pans and other odd things stored in\nthat room. The footsteps would again be heard, and this was followed\nby severe shaking of my own and other bedroom doors in the house. I\nsat up in bed and tried to call to the person in the next room, but\nfound I was unable to do so, apparently from shock. These noises\ncontinued without a break until 4 a.m. Then the footsteps seemed to\ngo along the landing, down the stairs, across the hall, and through\nthe front door, which seemed to close with a huge bang. When all\nseemed quiet again I gained courage enough to go downstairs, and\nfound the house in order as at the time of retiring to bed, and,\nstranger still, the front door was still bolted and barred as usual\non the inside. The rest of the household had heard exactly the same\nsounds as myself. Some who had come to stay in the house for a\nholiday hurriedly returned to their homes in Birmingham the same\nmorning, thus losing their proposed fortnight's stay. I also changed\nmy residence, and did not sleep in the house again.\n\nMoreover, I knew personally a tenant of the same house who heard\nstrange noises there; he actually sat up at nights with a friend to\ntry and find out the cause and went so far as to take up the\nflooring. The mysterious noises both in my own case and on three\nother occasions within twelve months could never be explained, and\nto-day I am unable to offer any solution.\n\nTHE MISSING PAPERS\n\nI can vouch (writes a clergyman from Yorkshire) for the truth of the\nfollowing story:\u2014\n\nA clergyman of the Church of England was asked to preach at some\nspecial services in the Midlands. He spent the weekend with the local\nsquire, and when he came to take his departure he said to his host,\n\u201cWould you mind letting one of your servants take me round the\nhouse?\u201d \u201cCertainly, I'll show you round myself.\u201d The clergyman was\nshown all over the mansion, but was still unsatisfied. \u201cThere's still\na room in the house that I have not seen, and I want to see it.\u201d The\nsquire protested that he had been all over the house, but the\nclergyman was obdurate. At length the squire remembered an old disused\nattic. \u201cBut,\u201d said he, \u201cno one has been there for years.\u201d \u201cI want to\nsee that attic.\u201d Accordingly the door of this attic was forced open,\nand the party made their way in. \u201cAh, this is the room,\u201d said the\nvicar, \u201cand somewhere in this room there is a cupboard\u2014there it is. I\nwant it opened.\u201d\n\nThe cupboard was forced open and a bundle of papers fell at the feet\nof the vicar, who picked them up and handed them to the squire. The\nsquire opened them and uttered a gasp of astonishment. \u201cWhy, these\nare the deeds of my estate. I have been searching for them for\nmonths. Had I not found them very soon the chances are that I should\nhave been involved in serious financial loss. But how did you know\nthey were here?\u201d\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know they were here,\u201d said the vicar slowly, \u201cbut last\nnight I was conscious of the presence of someone in my room, and I\nbecame aware that somewhere in this house was a room I wanted to see,\nin which was a cupboard I wanted to open.\u201d\n\nTHE HAUNTED LANE AT HENDON\n\nTHE district between Hendon and Kingsbury is believed to be haunted.\n\nThirty-five years ago, Welsh Harp Fair was bigger than to-day. On\nBank Holidays I used to visit friends at Neasden, near Wembley, and\nwe boys used to walk across the fields to Hendon.\n\nThe homeward road (Cool Oak-lane), after crossing the Welsh Harp,\nwound up a hill between tall dark trees and silent ponds, and past\nthe blank wall of the grounds surrounding a large house.\n\nAlthough only five miles from the Marble Arch, it was very lonely:\nbeing cut off from London by the Harp, a sheet of water a mile long.\n\nThe people of Neasden believed that the road was haunted. I remember\nthe boys speaking of actually seeing a tall white ghost. This story\nmay have been originated in the contrast between the brilliantly\nilluminated fair and the dark country road. Of course, the fair was\nnot always on, so there was some other reason for the superstition.\nAnyhow, the neighbourhood is unchanged, and the children of to-day\nkeep away from the place at nights.\n\nCHESHIRE\n\nSOME years ago, I, with my wife and family, lived in a house which\nwas undoubtedly haunted. One day, my wife was in the hall with the\nbaby in her arms when, suddenly, a figure in white appeared, and she\nhad to draw to one side to allow it to pass her. She saw the same\napparition on several occasions and, later, a nurse, who we had in\nthe house during my wife's illness, also saw it at different times.\nOne day she was in the bathroom when the figure appeared, walked\nthrough the room, opened the door, and passed out. On another\noccasion she was having breakfast in the nursery adjoining the\nbedroom when she saw a figure in white standing in the doorway. She\nthought it was my wife who had got out of bed against instructions,\nand she immediately went into the room next door to \u201cblow up\u201d the\npatient, and found she had never left her bed. Ultimately, I myself\nsaw it one evening when in the bedroom (the door of which was open)\nbrushing my hair before the mirror, I suddenly became conscious of\nsomething unusual and saw a figure mount the stairs, pause at the top\nand then proceed on its way upwards.\n\nSubsequently, we were very much disturbed by loud hammerings which\nalways commenced immediately we went to bed at night, continued the\nwhole night through, but finished always immediately the servant got\nup in the morning. These noises became so violent that we finally had\nto give up the house. On making inquiries, I found that in the\nvicinity of the spot where the house was situated, a young woman,\nwhose husband was a captain and had lost his life at sea, had lived\nand had drowned herself in a pit not very far away, some years\npreviously.\n\nKENT\n\nSOME years ago, I went home to stay with my parents for holiday. They\nhad recently moved into an old mansion which had been converted into\na double dwelling-house, both parties using the same staircase and\nhall. During my stay, my mother and father took the opportunity to go\naway for a week end, leaving me to get meals for a friend who lived\nwith them, and whose duties as a postal servant often brought him\nhome in the early hours of the morning. My mother feared, as I was\nyoung, I might not rise in time to get his breakfast. I gave my\npromise I would do it, but did not mention how. Accordingly, I sat up\nall night busy with fancy work until it was time for me to get ready\na nice hot breakfast. I felt sure if I went to bed at my usual hour I\nshould not waken. When all was ready\u2014about 2 a.m.\u2014 I went into the\nhall to listen for any sound of the friend coming. The door of the\nroom I was in faced the staircase which was very wide, and, right in\nfront of me, about half way down the staircase, stood a tall\ngentleman clad in brown velvet jacket, cord breeches, leggings and\nhuntsman's cap. Thinking it might be a friend of the people in the\nother half of the house, I went in and closed the door, wondering why\nhe was roaming about the house at that hour. When the friend arrived\nfor breakfast, I told him what I had seen. He laughed heartily and\nthen said: \u201cSo you have seen him?\u201d I asked where the joke came in, and\nhe calmly told me he saw the same gentleman repeatedly\u2014he haunted the\nhouse. Needless to say, I did not spend another night in sitting up.\n\nWhen mother returned and I told her my experience, she was ever so\nsorry she had left me; she did not dream I would stay up. She then\ntold me that night after night she and father were kept awake with\nmusic and dancing somewhere close to their bedroom, and they could\nfind out nothing to account for it. Some time after, the place was\npulled down and a large jar of golden coins was found embedded in one\nof the walls of the bedroom in which my parents slept. This may sound\nto some people like a fairy tale, but it is perfectly true, and,\nwhenever I think of the place, I can see that gentleman who, they\ntold me, always vanished as soon as you had seen him.\n\nSEAFORD\n\nWE were living, in 1912, in a quiet Midland town, and the household\ncomprised my husband, small son, maid and myself. The son was\nrecovering from an attack of croup, and my husband and I took it in\nturns to sleep with him in the large bedroom. As the doctor gave a\ngood report of the invalid, I was looking forward to a good night's\nrest in the smaller room. When bedtime came, I opened the window and\ndoor, and, after a short time, was fast asleep. I do not know how\nlong it was before I became wide awake, feeling that something evil\nwas hovering around me. There was nothing to be seen, but a bad\ninfluence or presence made itself felt, and I was simply terrified. I\nwas in a cold sweat of fear, afraid to move lest something should\nhappen to me. What that something was, I did not know then, neither\ndo I know now.\n\nMy husband slept in the room on the next night, and he said he was\ntroubled by bad nightmare dreams\u2014but would say nothing more.\n\nWhen the doctor called, he advised that our son should go into the\nsmaller room in the daytime for a change, so we soon had him\ncomfortably settled there in bed. But he wanted amusement, like most\nboys do when they are well enough, so we fetched the kitten upstairs\nand placed it on the bed, for they were very fond of each other.\n\nAlas! before we could ask ourselves what was the matter, the kitten\nseemed to turn pale, and, tucking his tail between his legs, he\nabsolutely bolted off the bed and rushed headlong downstairs. Of\ncourse, we joked about it to our son, and called to the maid to carry\nthe kitten and a saucer of milk upstairs again. Again we tried to\ntempt the kitten to remain on the bed, but it was impossible. Again\nit rushed downstairs as if terrified.\n\nWhat was to be done? I determined to sleep there at night, as we\narranged and, again, I was awakened by the knowledge that some evil\nwas present in the room around me. I was still terrified and unable\nto move, but was able to pray to God to save me, body, soul and\nspirit, and, after about ten minutes\u2019 silent prayer, the influence\nor presence, or whatever it was, went, and the air in the room became\nlight and fresh and buoyant as it used to be. The next day the kitten\nremained upstairs and was a joy to the invalid.\n\nCan these experiences be accounted for? I wonder! I was afterwards\ntold that a crime of continual cruelty had occurred in that room a\nfew years before. If so, why did the evil influence revisit the room,\nand not the perpetrators of the cruelty?\n\nThis is a true account of what actually happened in a pretty little\nhouse near \u2014\u2014\u2014, in Warwickshire.\n\nCAMBRIDGE\n\nA FEW years ago, when I was studying for my degree in a university\ncollege, my friends and I had a strange experience. The women's\nhostel in which we lived, had formerly been a gentleman's house, and\nit was rumoured that at times this country squire, who was now dead,\nused to revisit his old home. Most of us laughed at this as a \u201cghost\ntale,\u201d but the following incident made even the most sceptical wonder.\n\nOne night, my friend and I, who shared a room, went to bed as usual.\nAfter putting out the light, we pulled up the blind. This was a\nregular habit of ours, so that we should wake up easily in the\nmorning. About 2 a.m. I awoke, and found, to my astonishment, the\nelectric light switched on, and the blind down. I awakened my friend,\nand asked her if she was responsible, but she had been asleep the\nwhole time. Neither of us had ever walked in our sleep, so, feeling\nthat something uncanny had happened, we got up to investigate.\nListening intently, we heard weird noises on the floor below, a sort\nof rattling and scraping. This continued for some time, and then\ngradually grew fainter and died away. Feeling very nervous, we sat\nwaiting for the sounds to return, but nothing more happened, and we\nwere glad when morning came.\n\nAt breakfast, we reported the night\u2019s happenings. When we had\nfinished, a \u201cfresher\u201d spoke up\u2014one who knew nothing of the hostel\nlegend. She said that during the night, a gentleman had stood by her\nbed and smiled kindly at her. We eagerly questioned her, and she was\nable to tell us exactly what he was wearing. When she had finished,\nour Warden exclaimed: \u201cWhy, that was old Mr. C., the late owner of\nthis house; the last time I saw him he was dressed like that!\u201d\n\nWas the same old gentleman responsible for turning on our light, and\nfor the other strange happenings of that night?\n\nREADING\n\nWHILST living at a \u201cschool house\u201d in a lonely country district, where\nmy father was a schoolmaster, I was startled one day, when sitting in\nmy bedroom reading, by someone walking upstairs as though with a\nstick. I rushed out and, on finding no one, I ran downstairs to\nascertain whether the rest of the family had heard the same noise.\nEveryone paid \u201cNo!\u201d\n\nA few months afterwards, my mother happened to be ill, and a maid,\nwho had lived in the same house when it was occupied by a former\nschoolmaster, came to live with us. One afternoon, while the rest of\nus were out, mother asked this maid to sit upstairs with her, and,\nstrange though it may seem, they were both startled by the same noise\nas I had heard months before\u2014someone walking upstairs with a stick.\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s quite all right,\u201d said the maid, \u201cthat's only Miss S., who\ndied here a few years ago; she was troubled with fits and always\nwalked with a stick.\u201d\n\nFunnily enough, this girl said that Miss S. used to place the stick\non the landing on top of the stairs before walking to her bedroom,\nwhich she did (if it really was her \u201cghost\u201d) on those two occasions.\n\nSUTTON SCOTNEY\n\nMY father made the acquaintance of a retired colonel, who lived six\nmiles from our home. Sometimes father went over to tea with him. On\none occasion father saw a short thick man pass through the\ndrawing-room without opening the door. He felt so uncomfortable, that\nthe colonel asked him what was the matter. Father explained. \u201cOh,\u201d\nsaid the colonel, \u201cthat was only our little pedlar. The legend is\nthat a pedlar was seen to come to this house, but he never left it.\nHis pedlary is said to be put behind that fireplace.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy don't you have it opened?\u201d asked my father. \u201cNo fear, I don't\nwant to, the pedlar doesn't worry me.\u201d\n\nCOLEFORD\n\nSOME years ago, I was sitting alone in the sitting-room one Sunday\nnight, after the rest of the family had retired, and I was reading\nthe case of little \u201cTeddy Slingsby.\u201d The banging of a door which\nopened out of the kitchen to the scullery aroused me to investigate,\nand to secure it for the night, as always was done, with a bolt. When\nI reached the centre of the kitchen I could see that the door was\nwide open and, it being a nice moonlight night, I could see the trees\nin the garden and the ivy hanging on the old wall. I stepped up to\nthe door, putting out my hand to close it and, to my horror, I found\nthat the door was then closed and bolted securely, and my view of the\nmoonlit garden was at once cut out.\n\nI turned for the staircase and, upon arriving at the top, I entered\nmy mother's room, too scared and speechless to tell her what I had\nseen. I placed my back against the wall for support, and slid down,\nsitting on the floor. When I had recovered, I explained to mother\nwhat I had seen. She advised me to get to bed at once, which I did. I\nhad not buried myself in bed very long before I heard a rustling, as\nthat of paper, and, looking up, I saw a figure all in white standing\nwith hand to its head, and elbow against my bedroom door. I could not\nutter a word, and I watched the figure completely disappear.\n\nThis I told the remainder of the family next morning, and my mother\ncould then say that she had seen the same thing herself. Also I heard\nfrom the people who had lived in the house previously, that members\nof that family had seen the same apparition.\n\nIPSWICH\n\nEIGHT years ago my friend, a dark-haired girl, and I took a job as\nservants, at a large mansion near here. To my surprise, I was given a\nmost beautiful and luxuriantly-appointed bedroom in the front of the\nhouse, my friend sleeping in the servants quarters.\n\nAbout a week later, I was wakened at two o'clock in the morning by my\nbedroom door opening, and a dark-haired woman approached the bed.\nThinking it was my friend, who wanted something, I sat up and asked:\n\u201cWhat do you want, Olive?\u201d The figure turned towards the\ndressing-table and disappeared. I ran along to my friend's room. She\nwas sleeping, and I spent the night with her. The next morning, the\nhousekeeper informed me that there had been similar complaints from\nguests and the room had been closed for years, but they had wondered\nif it would be all right after the lapse. Needless to add, I refused\nto sleep in the room again.\n\nHULL\n\nSOME years ago, I worked in a drug warehouse with a labourer, Mr. T.\n(since dead), who had a supernatural experience. He and his wife and\nfamily moved into a house which had been empty a long time. The\nremoval took place after he left his day's work, and the beds were\nhastily improvised for the night. He and his wife were awakened by a\ncrash, which sounded just over the bed head. Both simultaneously\nasked: \u201cDid you hear that noise?\u201d Mr. T. arose next morning to go\ndownstairs to make the fire, and, from the top of the stairs, saw the\nfigure of a woman sitting on the bottom step nursing a child. The\napparition faded away as he reached the bottom. He dared not mention\nit to his wife, but he found another residence, and left the house\nthe same week. Subsequent inquiries revealed the fact that there had\nbeen a murder committed in the house.\n\nREADING\n\nDURING the war I went to live for a time with some relatives in the\nsuburbs of a large city in the Midlands. One Sunday night, as I lay\nawake longing for sleep which would not come, I was startled by a\nstrange noise close beside my bed, like the deep, heavy breathing of\na very large dog, but much louder than anything of the kind I had\never heard before. Then I felt the weight of a very heavy hand or paw\nacross my right foot. The moments seemed like hours and I became\nparalysed with terror and unable to move or make a sound. I think,\neventually, I became unconscious. In the morning I told a member of\nthe family of my horrible experience and asked her not to mention it,\nas I did not wish to frighten the young people in the house.\n\nAfter I had been away some months, I received a letter from the\nrelative to whom I had told this, saying that her sister had been\nfrightened by the same noise in this bedroom, and her husband had\ndeclared there was someone in the room. They got up and searched the\nroom but found nothing.\n\nCan anyone give a solution of these strange noises? I should be glad\nto have it explained. Do I believe in ghosts? No! Not until I see\none, which I have no desire to do.\n\nCOWES\n\nSOME years ago, some cousins of mine, who lived in an old house at\nReading, frequently saw a little old lady who used to come and sit in\none of the bedrooms at night. They were so used to seeing her that\nthey lost their fear. Later, the house was pulled down, and a box\ncontaining a skeleton was discovered. They made inquiries and found\nthat, years before they lived there, a murder had been committed. An\nold uncle of mine, who was a missionary, and who sometimes paid my\ncousins a visit, always saw the old lady when he slept there.\n\nMARKYATE\n\nMY husband was a man who would laugh if you talked of ghosts, saying\nhe didn't believe there were such things. However, he had to go away\nto work five years ago, and he and a mate got lodgings with an old\nlady whose mother, at the age of ninety, died not long before. The\nfirst night his mate had plenty to drink so slept soundly. My\nhusband, however, being in a strange place, couldn't sleep. During\nthe night the clothes were lifted off his feet and strange knockings\nwent around the bed. He lit the candle, but found nothing. In the\nmorning he told his mate, and the next night his mate woke him and\nsaid: \u201cHill, light the candle; this place is haunted!\u201d They couldn't\nsleep for the tugging at the clothes and the knocking around the bed.\nThey told their experience to a man from the village who was working\nwith them, and he said the old lady was supposed to have left money\nin the bed. They stayed on for the week, and each night the same\nthing occurred. On the Saturday morning they stripped the bed and made\na thorough search, but found nothing. When my husband returned home he\nlooked like a man who had had a severe illness. He told us the story;\nnow he believes in ghosts.\n\nBOSCOMBE\n\nIN the wartime I spent a holiday in a Dorset village, and the first\nnight, whilst sleeping in a bedroom in a lonely cottage, I was\nawakened by the door noiselessly opening, and the figure of a man\ndressed in white garments passing through the room and talking softly\nto himself. There was only a woman in the cottage and she was fast\nasleep.\n\nA year after, I read in some old memoirs of two of Nelson's\nlieutenants who, whilst ashore at Weymouth, met two women and\naccompanied them home. During supper they quarrelled, and one woman\nthrew a flat-iron at Lieutenant \u2014\u2014\u2014 and killed him. His companion was\nhorrified and, urging the women to be silent, he took the body on his\nhorse to a lonely spot in Dorset, and buried it and rejoined his ship.\n\nThe spot where the lieutenant was buried was the spot on which stands\nthe cottage in which I had this strange experience.\n\nCROYDON\n\nSOME years ago, whilst spending a night in an old inn, I was awakened\nby the disagreeable impression that I was not alone. To my amazement,\nat the foot of my bed (an old-fashioned four-poster), stood a girl,\nwith a baby in her outstretched arms. Her eyes were fixed imploringly\non mine, as though begging for help or protection. I noticed that she\nhad a mob cap on her head, and a quaint wrapper of some fashion\nunknown to me.\n\nI begged her to tell me what I could do for her, but she made no\nreply, and, a moment later, she had disappeared.\n\nI rose at once and searched the room. Door and windows were securely\nfastened, and I could find no trace of my mysterious visitor.\nConvinced at last that I had been dreaming, I returned to bed.\nPresently, the woman with her baby reappeared, this time at the side\nof the bed! She spoke no word, but, with the same expression of\nanguish, gazed imploringly at me. Then she vanished. When for the\nthird time, I became aware of her presence beside my pillow, I was\nseized with terror and called loudly for help. Then I must have\nfainted for, when I came to myself, it was broad daylight. When\nquestioned, my hostess could give me no explanation. She admitted,\nhowever, that she had heard my cries, but that neither she nor her\nservants dared enter the chamber after nightfall. The room was\nsupposed to be haunted, and other visitors had seen the woman and her\nbaby as described by me. The inn has since been pulled down and a\nhostel erected in its place.\n\nLEVERSHULME\n\nMY father became tenant of the Manor House in a village in the\nMidlands and moved in with mother and six children, five girls\n(including me) and one boy. I was then twelve years old. Many were the\nwarnings kindly given to us by the villagers that the house was\nhaunted, but, being a merry family, and father and brother keen on\nshooting, they laughingly warned off any intruders from outside. We\nyounger were not so dubious. The rooms were large and opened off long\npassages and had an eerie effect, especially at night.\n\nThe first I remember of anything disturbing was when my brother\ninjured his foot and was laid up for a time. My eldest sister used to\nattend to him, and was surprised one morning, when she took his\nbreakfast, by him asking why she came into his room during the night\nwithout speaking. She questioned him, and he told her someone came\ninto his room and leaned over him as if to see if he was asleep, and,\nwhen he spoke, and got no answer, he felt to see if his watch was\nthere, thinking it was someone after valuables. As he raised himself,\nthe visitor disappeared. This happened several nights in succession.\nOn another occasion, my mother was ill and, during the night, called\nto my sisters to take down the dog, which she said had jumped on her\nbed. They, too, could not explain what had happened, as the dog was\npeacefully sleeping downstairs and never was allowed upstairs. Father\nalso had his share, for, while sitting reading one night, after\neveryone else had retired, and all doors locked and bolted, he was\nsuddenly aroused from his book by hearing footsteps. Then the door at\nthe end of a long passage was unlocked, and there came a gust of wind\nas if it was opened. The door closed, and was bolted again, and\nfootsteps came towards the room. He asked who was there and,\nreceiving no reply, went to investigate, but nothing was to be seen,\nand the door was still locked and bolted.\n\nFather told the landlord of the experience and the latter stated he\nhad the same thing happen when living there and could offer no\nexplanation. I can well remember my feelings of relief when we\nremoved to another house in a neighbouring village. That, too, had\nthe reputation of being haunted, but, although we lived there some\nyears, nothing happened to verify the statement.\n\nWIDNES\n\nJUST before the war I thought I would remove to a house I noticed had\nbeen vacant for a long period. On interviewing the landlord of the\nhouse, I was informed I could have the tenancy of the house two\nshillings per week cheaper than other tenants paid for houses in the\nsame row. He would offer no explanation for this generous act. I,\naccordingly, moved into the house the same day. Retiring to bed the\nfirst night, I awoke about 12:30 a.m. to find standing in the\nmoonlight that was streaming through the window, a man who I knew,\nbut had not heard of for years. He was bleeding from a deep wound in\nthe neck that had obviously been inflicted by a blood-stained carving\nknife he held in his right hand. Too horrified to utter a sound, I\nwatched him draw the knife slowly across his throat, inflicting\nanother wound, while he stared me straight in the eyes. After a low\nmoan, he disappeared.\n\nThe next night, about the same time, I was awakened by hearing\nsomeone moaning in the room. This moaning was heard by the remainder\nof my family.\n\nDetermined to find out the cause of these happenings, I asked the\nnext-door neighbour if he could explain them. \u201cDon't you know?\u201d he\nasked. \u201cJack\u201d (mentioning the man I had seen) \u201ccommitted suicide in\nyour house. The landlord lets it cheaper than the others, but nobody\nwill stay in it!\u201d\n\nNeedless to say, I did not stay. I moved back to my old home, the\nsame day. At the present time, although there is a shortage of\nhouses, you can often see in the window of this house, the sign \u201cTo\nLet.\u201d\n\nTEMPLECOMBE\n\nWHILST engaged in domestic service at a large county house on the\nDorset border, a young scullery-maid, who was ill, told us the lady\nhad been to see her, but she was, somehow, afraid of her, and she did\nnot speak. We other three who were there thought this odd, and I\nasked what was she dressed in. The girl replied black, and she had\nshiny things in her hair and round her neck. I had happened to meet\nthe lady in the corridor and she was wearing a blue tea gown, so we\npersuaded her she had been dreaming. In course of time, I met an old\nlady of eighty-five, who had lived in the house in the days of her\nyouth. She asked me had I seen the ghost. I said no, and asked what\nit was like. She replied: \u201cA lady in black with lots of diamonds on;\nshe used to walk right the length of the first floor. The butler used\nto try to catch her, but never could.\u201d\n\nIt was part of my duty every evening during the two years I lived\nthere to shut shutters and fix bells on all the windows on this\nparticular floor, yet I never saw anything, whereas the poor girl I\nhave mentioned was in the house only three weeks and was so\nfrightened.\n\nSOUTH WALES\n\nSOME years ago I was living in a small mining village in South Wales.\nBeing a widow with a family, I was glad to let a married daughter and\nher husband rent part of the house. When I first went to live in that\nparticular house the neighbours told me that a previous tenant, an\nold man who lived alone, was one morning found dead, sitting in a\nchair. I was, however, not at all superstitious, so thought no more\nabout it.\n\nWe had got quite settled in our house, when, one night, on retiring\nto bed, we heard footsteps coming upstairs and stop at my bedroom\ndoor.\n\nMy daughter, aged thirteen years, was sleeping with me at the time,\nand, although we had been in bed some time, we were neither of us\nasleep, and lay waiting to see our door open, thinking it was either\nmy married daughter or her husband, who were sleeping in the room\nbelow us. After several minutes had passed, we heard the same\nfootsteps going downstairs, and, when they reached the bottom, we\nheard the catch of the bedroom door below, as if someone had passed\nin and closed the door. Judge of my surprise to find next morning\nthat no one had been upstairs. But my daughter told me that, twice\nher bedroom door opened and her husband got out of bed and latched it\nagain. Then they heard footsteps coming downstairs and, for the third\ntime the door opened. This time my son-in-law got a light and went on\na voyage of discovery, but could see no one. We agreed not to say\nanything about this in front of the younger children for fear of\nfrightening them.\n\nA day or so after, I was talking to a neighbour about some needlework\nshe wished me to do for her. My little girl, aged eight years, was\nsitting in the kitchen with me, when, all at once, she gave one\nscream and rushed over to me, looking simply awful. When I could get\nthe child calm enough to question her, she said a great white thing\nhad sprung over the stairs banisters, and had nearly touched her. We\nhunted all over the house, but could not find anything to account for\nthe apparition, which, she said, went into the coal place under the\nstairs. I tried to console her by saying it was a white cat that had\ngot in, but she would not have this, as she said it was \u201cheaps too big\nfor a cat.\u201d\n\nThe strange part about it was neither my neighbour nor myself had\nseen anything. We did not stay long in that house.\n\nThe two girls are women now, but they often talk about this, and\nwonder what it meant.\n\nCLAPHAM\n\nTHERE is a certain house in \u2014\u2014\u2014 which is really haunted, although few\npeople know it. This house belonged to a lady I used to know. I was\nvery young then, and was able to run about in the pitch darkness with\nno childish fears whatever; yet, every time I entered this house, I\nalways grew afraid. Of what I do not know; my mother also experienced\nthis awful fear.\n\nThis lady had a brother who used to sleep in the attic. One night he\nawoke, and, to his horror, he beheld an old and ugly woman standing\nby his bed. I say \u201cstanding,\u201d but he could see her only from the waist\nupwards. She was staring at him with an evil expression on her face.\nAs he looked at her she gradually faded away. He said that the room\nwas dark, but a light seemed to come from her. Her eyes were black\nand glittering; these were the last to fade. This man confessed that\nhe was terrified and he spent the rest of the night under the bed\nclothes. He said that noises were heard in the unoccupied rooms, like\npeople fighting.\n\nThis house, to the best of my knowledge is unoccupied now.\n\nBARROW-IN-FURNESS\n\nIN the village where I was born, at a point where four crossroads\nmet, stood a house where lived an aged couple. One night the old man\nwas found lying dead on the ground, having fallen from the bedroom\nwindow; a short time after, the old lady died.\n\nThe house was then rented by an elderly man with his family. These\npeople could not sleep at night because of strange noises which\nresembled furniture being pushed about. The father declared a ghost\nentered his bedroom, took money from his pockets, counted it, and\nlaid it on the dressing-table. The family became so frightened they\nquitted the house, and it was then let to a maiden lady.\n\nOne night the friends of this lady, who lived at a farm a mile away,\nwere awakened by her knocking at their door. She was barefooted and\nin her nightdress. She was in an exhausted condition, and said\nsomebody was in her house moving the furniture about.\n\nShe never returned to the house and died shortly after from shock, it\nwas said.\n\nNo one could ever account for the ghostly visitor or the noises, and,\nas long as I remained in the village, the house stood empty and was\nalways said to be \u201chaunted.\u201d\n\nBARNES\n\nABOUT twenty years ago, I was living with my husband and children in\nBarnes. My daughter was studying for an examination and frequently\nsat up till one or two o'clock working. Sometimes we heard her\ncalling out, and she complained of being visited by a middle-aged\nlady dressed in grey.\n\nOne night we had all gone to bed, when I heard her calling in great\ndistress. I made up my mind to go and sleep with her, thinking she was\nover-wrought by her studies. I had hardly laid down beside her when\nthe door opened and a lady in grey came slowly in. I felt myself\nshaking, and my daughter called out: \u201cWhat is the matter, mother? You\nare trembling.\u201d I was anxious to hide the fact that I saw anything,\nand remained silent. \u201cMother, there she goes,\u201d she called out, and I\nsaw the apparition disappear through the wall.\n\nAfterwards, I heard from a woman who had been servant in the house\nbefore we bought it, that a lady answering to my description of our\nvisitor had died in that room.\n\nHANDSWORTH\n\nSOME twenty years ago, my mother, sister, brother and self, went to\nstay with friends at an Essex manor house. In the afternoon our host\ntook the horse and trap to stay the night at an outlying town in\norder to be ready for the horse fair next day. My brother and I were\nleft in bed with a light. After a time the door opened and a big man\nstood there and nodded to us. In the dim light, we, thinking by his\nsize he was our host, called out \u201cGoodnight, Mr. B.\u201d He then closed\nthe door. My mother and sister went to bed, bolting their door.\nDuring the night my mother heard shuffling in the corridor, extra\nloud where a tall man would have to stoop. Then her door was tried\nand, whoever it was, continued into the next bedroom, which was our\nhostess\u2019s. In the morning my mother's door was open. On recounting\nour experiences over breakfast, one of our host\u2019s sons blurted out\n\u201cWhy, it's only old R.'s ghost walking again; they are doing his grave\nup.\u201d Our host had not been home at all that night.\n\nMy mother and sister returned home that day, but we stayed on. We\nwere only about nine or ten years old. When we saw the grave it had a\ntarpaulin cover over it and was being done up. R. had committed\nsuicide. Owing to the noises in the house and the stories told about\nit, our friends had been able to get the place at a reduced rent. All\nthe above facts can be verified and vouched for.\n\nBURTON LATIMER\n\nAS a young married woman, I went from a large town to live in a small\nvillage in Buckinghamshire where my husband had got work. We thought\nwe were very lucky to get a nice old-fashioned house that stood by\nitself in a lane. It seems that the house had been empty some time. I\nmade many friends, but none ever told me the house had a bad name, or\nanything about it. Did I believe in ghosts? Certainly not! But, after\nsix months in that uncanny house, I would believe anything. The first\nsigns in this peculiar house began when we had been there about a\nmonth. Chairs were scraped across the floor in the small kitchen\n(always in the evening), sounds of crockery smashing, bumps overhead,\nand doors banging. My two small children were mysteriously moved from\none bed to another nightly for about a fortnight. At first we were not\nalarmed and tried hard to find out who was playing a game with us.\nNone of the villagers would come near the house because they said it\nwas haunted. I never saw anything, but my husband did, and it so got\non his nerves that he would not stay in the house by himself.\n\nThe house was supposed to be haunted by a tall lady in rustling silk.\nI certainly heard the rustle and the moaning, but I never saw the\nlady. Anyhow, she certainly made us as restless as she was herself.\nLater on, my husband got work away, only coming home for week-ends,\nfor we were very anxious to get away from the house and to be\npeaceful again. I understand that no one would take the old house\nafter we left it, and it was pulled down and rebuilt. I wonder if\nthat laid the ghost? I could never understand what caused the trouble\nthere, but after that experience, do I believe in ghosts? Yes, I\nthink so!\n\nA MILITARY MAN\n\nSOME years ago I was nursing an old lady and went with her to stay at\nher brother's\u2014an old country manor house. One night the maids forgot\nto bring the milk my patient always had, so, about 2:00 a.m., I set\nout for the larder to fetch it. Our room opened into a long corridor\nwhich had several large windows. It was a moonlight night. I knew\neveryone had long since gone to bed so was very surprised to see\nsomeone coming to meet me. But my surprise turned to horror when I\nsaw that it was no member of the household, but the figure of a very\ntall dark man in the military uniform of over a century ago. He seemed\nto glide, not walk. I waited until the figure was within a few feet of\nme and then I fled back to my patient. She begged me to say nothing of\nwhat I had seen, as the family already found it difficult to keep\nmaids, owing to the frequent occurrence of strange noises as if the\nhouse was being ransacked and all the china smashed. A few years\nafter my experience the property was sold as the owners could stand no\nmore of the ghostly racket, and it has constantly changed tenants\nsince.\n\n\u201cYOU ARE IN MY BED\u201d\n\nTHIS may interest your readers. It happened to me in London in the\nyear 1887. On going to live in London, not far from Kilburn, with\npeople who were quite strangers to me, I had the following strange\nexperience during my first night. I retired just after ten and was\nsoon sound asleep, when a voice beside the bed said, \"You are in my\nbed,\" and repeated it several times. I looked both sides of the bed,\nbut could see nothing, but, over by the dressing table, I saw a young\nman of about twenty-six. He was wearing a white shirt, braces and grey\nstriped trousers and his black hair showed plainly against a very\nwhite face.\n\nNext morning I told of what I had seen and was informed that a young\nman such as I described was the previous occupier of the room and had\ndied there only a few weeks earlier.\n\nTHE WOMAN IN BROWN\n\nABOUT twenty-five years ago Mr. and Mrs. D. took up their residence\nin a house in a small Oxfordshire village. Previous to their arrival\nMrs. D. had not seen the house nor had she heard anything to suggest\nthat the house was haunted.\n\nOn the evening of their arrival Mr. D. went to the village whilst\nMrs. D. arranged small articles of furniture. It was twilight but she\ncould see distinctly and, entering the house by the back door, was\nastonished to notice a woman standing in the kitchen. She, naturally,\nuttered an exclamation of surprise, and the figure faded away. An\nexamination of all rooms, which she immediately undertook, showed\nthat no person was concealed in them. Mrs. D. had no feelings of\nfear, but the personal appearance and costume of the figure impressed\nher vividly and became fixed in her memory. The figure was that of a\ntall woman, dressed entirely in brown. She had grey hair and a rather\nthin face on which melancholy was expressed.\n\nLater, the D's learned it was rumoured that their new residence was\nhaunted, one villager assuring them he would not care to live there.\nMrs. D. gained some significant information regarding a married\ncouple who had occupied the house previous to the tenants whom the\nD's succeeded. The wife had died there, having been badly treated,\naccording to all accounts, by the husband. Mrs. D. asked for a\ndescription of the dead woman. This tallied with the apparition which\nshe had seen! The apparition did not appear again, but Mrs. D. said\nshe often felt the presence of another woman in the house when alone.\n\nOne day, years later, liking such exercise, Mrs. D. sawed up an elm\nbough, lopped from an overhanging tree. Succeeding sections showed a\npattern; in the annular rings there was discernible the figure of the\nwoman in brown. This was corroborated by others.\n\nThe question arises, \u2018Did the thoughts of the woman in brown\ncontinue, after bodily death, to inhabit the spot where she had been\nso unhappy, impressing themselves, not only on another's mind but on\nthe internal structure of the tree near by?\u2019\n\n\u201cIS THAT YOU, TOM?\u201d\n\nMany years ago, I, accompanied by my infant son, went to spend a few\ndays at my brother's home\u2014a lonely farm on the Derbyshire moors.\n\nMy brother was away when I arrived, and was not expected back until\nnext day. During the night, I was awakened by the feeling that someone\nwas leaning over me as I lay in bed. Looking up, I saw a dark shadowy\nform and, thinking that my brother had returned sooner than expected,\nand had come in to see me, I put out my hand saying, \u201cIs that you,\nTom?\u201d There was no answer, and the shadow faded. I sat up in bed,\nwondering if it was my imagination, then, taking a look at my\nsleeping son, I composed myself for sleep again.\n\nNext morning, I asked my sister-in-law if my brother had returned.\nReceiving a negative reply, I related the incident of the night. My\nsister-in-law said, \u201cOh, Anne! have you seen it also?\u201d Then she told\nme that whenever my brother was away for the night she always prayed\nthat she might sleep soundly and not be disturbed by the shadow that\nshe had so often seen leaning over her bed\u2014sometimes at the foot and\nsometimes at the side of the bed. Shortly after my visit, my brother\nwas visited by relatives of his wife from Southport\u2014people whom I did\nnot know\u2014and, one morning, they burst into the kitchen asking if the\nhouse was haunted and declaring that a big dark shadow had been in\ntheir room during the night. They made quite a joke of it.\n\nNow, as I am a very sceptical person, in spite of my own experience,\nI asked my cousin, from whom my brother rented the house, and who had\nlived there, if he had seen anything. He did not want to say he had,\nbut, when pressed, admitted that both he and his mother and father\nknew about the manifestations. He told me that one night, sitting up\nto attend to a sick cow, he had locked the kitchen door and was\nsitting by the fire, when, suddenly, the door was flung open and a\ntall man walked into the kitchen, passed through the sitting-room,\nand clanked upstairs. (The farmhouse has only one doorway which opens\ndirectly into the kitchen.) My uncle, who was in bed, called out, \u201cIs\nthat you, Walter?\u201d But it wasn't Walter; he was still sitting by the\nfire spellbound and gazing at the still locked door. There was no one\nupstairs but the family in bed. I afterwards asked my aunt what she\nmade of it. She was a deeply religious woman, and, without\nhesitation, she simply said, \u201cAye, Anne, I\u2019ve seen it many a time, but\nI don't mind, it's harmless enough.\u201d\n\nI often wonder, can we all have imagined it? I knew nothing about it\ntill I went there\u2014nor did the Southport visitors; and my relatives\nwere very averse to talking about the visitations.\n\n\u201cOUR GHOST\u201d\n\nGHOSTS! Of course there are ghosts, and we should feel lost if our\nghost did not walk about at times. We have lived in this house for\neighteen years and it was a bit uncanny at first to hear footsteps\ncome down the stairs, then see the handle of the door turn. We would\nlook up expecting to see someone, and so we christened the occurrence\nas \u201cOur Ghost.\u201d Still, I must say there is something in the house. Our\ndog will be asleep on the rug, and, all at once, will get up and stare\nat the door for some time and then whine. There are times when the cat\nfights shy of the passage. It is only a few months ago that we heard\nsomeone (or something) at midnight move about downstairs and then we\nheard the front door bang. We went down to investigate and then\nremembered \u201cOur Ghost.\u201d This is after a life of eighteen years in the\nsame house. Of course, there are ghosts.\n\nA MAN WITH AN AXE\n\nI LIVE in an ordinary little suburban house\u2014one of a row of \u201cboxes\nwith lids on\u201d\u2014the approach to the upper storey being by a flight of\ntwelve stairs and another flight of four stairs set at right angles\nto the first, a small bedroom being in the angle formed by the\njunction of the two. One night some six months ago, when passing this\nbedroom in the dark, I caught a momentary glimpse of the form of a\nman holding an axe in his right hand, his face bearing a highly\nmalevolent expression. Not being at that time of a nervous\ndisposition I dismissed the whole thing as imagination, but, on three\nseparate occasions since, I have seen the same form, and always when\npassing that door in the dark I have the impression of having\nreceived a glancing blow on head and shoulder. Now the sequel to this\nis strange. I have ascertained that some years ago the then tenant of\nthe house attacked his wife with an axe as she was descending the\nstairs, and she died from her injuries; he was confined in an asylum,\nwhere he died six months ago. The name of the road was then \u2014\u2014\u2014 Road;\nin consequence of the tragedy it was changed (as was then the common\npractice) to the more pretentious \u2014\u2014\u2014 Avenue, and only the older\nresidents of the district recollect anything of the case. Can any of\nyour readers tell me how to exorcise this \u201cghost,\u201d for if it troubles\nme much more I shall be a fitting candidate for the institution where\nmy ghostly friend ended his days.\n\nSEEN IN THE MIRROR\n\nA FEW years ago, I was sitting waiting for my husband to come home. It\nwas nearly midnight and everything was quiet. I looked up to the\nmirror and saw an old grey-headed lady walking slowly across the room,\nfrom the middle door to the back door. When I turned to look at her\nshe had gone. I sat a few minutes, dumbfounded, looking at the\nmirror, and she came again. This she repeated three times and then\nwent for good. We could never keep a door locked at night. The doors\nhave been locked and bolted and, then, in the morning have been found\nundone. People declared the house was haunted. After we left it no one\nwould live in it, so it was pulled down.\n\nA TRAGEDY RE-ENACTED\n\nI AM not superstitious neither do I believe in ghosts, but the\nfollowing tale may interest some of your readers.\n\nSome time ago I used to stay at an old rectory in a Kentish village.\nThe rectory stood in a beautiful garden joining the churchyard, and\nwas approached by a carriage drive bordered by thick hedges and\ntrees. The house was low, gloomy-looking and rambling, containing many\nrooms and winding passages and had three staircases, but it had been\nsomewhat modernised. One room was supposed to be haunted.\n\nI once slept in this room, but the ghost did not visit me; neither did\nI see or hear anything unusual. The room was a large one with two\nwindows overlooking the carriage drive. A niece of the rector came on\na visit and was given as a bedroom the haunted chamber. It was early\nautumn, a warm, beautiful moonlight night, not a leaf moving. The\nrector's niece had gone to her room, but wishing to finish a book, sat\nreading between the two open windows. Just as the church clock struck\ntwelve, the door (which was fastened) opened. There was a sound of a\nscuffle, a rush past, a swish of skirts, a loud groan which seemed to\nend at the window, and a deep thud as if a heavy body had fallen. The\nwindow curtains, which were thick and heavy, blew straight out into\nthe room.\n\nAt breakfast next day, the lady related her experience and was told\nshe had seen, or rather heard the ghost. Other members of the family\nhad had a similar experience. The story goes:\n\nMany years ago a certain rector murdered his wife at midnight in this\nroom, and threw the body out of the window.\n\nAt certain periods the lady's ghost is supposed to visit the scene of\nthe murder.\n\nA HARMLESS APPARITION\n\nMANY years ago one of my workmates went to live in a house not more\nthan five minutes walk from my address. One night, whilst he and his\nwife were sitting in the house, they noticed a hand draw aside the\ncurtain, which hung at the middle door\u2014the door near the pantry\u2014and\nthen there stood revealed to them an old lady who looked at them for a\nminute or so and vanished. One day they invited some of their\nrelations to tea. After they had had the meal, a young man of the\nparty got up from his chair and stood with his back to the fire-place,\nwhile the other members of the party were still sitting around the\ntable talking. All at once, they noticed the hair on the young man\u2019s\nhead stand straight up, and there was a horror-stricken look on his\nface. He couldn't speak. He was looking past the table to the kitchen\ndoor. Every member of the party turned to look in that direction, and\nthere stood the old lady revealed to all. My friend inquired of the\nneighbours as to who had lived in the house previous to him taking\npossession. They told him a young woman who was living in the next\nstreet. He went to see her and told her about the old lady whom he\ndescribed. The young woman told him that it was her mother who had\ndied in that house. He told the landlord about it, saying that the old\nlady seemed to come out of the pantry.\n\nThe landlord sent workmen who took up the flags in the pantry, and\nthen replaced them. Since that was done the old lady has never\nreappeared. I asked my friends if they were not afraid of living in\nthe house, but they both answered, \u201cNo, the old lady seemed harmless\nenough.\u201d They are still living in the same house.\n\nEVEN THE LANDLORD LEFT\n\nI AM not interested in ghosts as a rule, but I was rather struck by\nthe story of the brown lady of Raynham Hall. While reading of it, this\nincident came to my mind and it is just as true as uncanny.\n\nWhen I was eleven years old we lived in Yorkshire and I was one of a\nlarge family. We had occasion to remove to a more convenient house.\nAnd as houses were very bad to get at that time, we thought we were\nvery fortunate in securing a nice convenient place, without much\ntrouble.\n\nStrange to say, we had not lived in the house many weeks when, on\nreturning home from school one day, I was amazed to find my mother\nquite prostrate on the couch. After I had attended to mother, she\nrequested me to go upstairs and have a look round the rooms as she\nthought something had fallen out of place. Thinking nothing of it, I\nimmediately went and examined all the rooms, but everything was in\norder. I was at a loss to understand mother's nervous breakdown.\n\nWhen father and the rest of the family came in from business, mother\ntold us that, after dinner, she had just got on the couch for a rest\nwhen she heard a terrific crash just as though the roof had fallen\nin. When she had recovered from the shock, she went out into the\ngarden to look and make sure the roof had not collapsed. All was in\norder. A neighbour, seeing mother was ill, came to her assistance. We\ncame to the conclusion that mother's nerves were weak and we tried to\nsoothe her. But, strange to say, we were all sitting round the fire\nafter supper, before going to bed, when we were all startled by an\nawful crashing noise. We were all speechless for a few minutes, the\nshock was so great. Then my father and brothers went and searched the\nplace. After that the knockings and noises were so frequent that\nmother\u2019s health broke down and we had to move.\n\nSome weeks after, my father came in touch with the lady who had\npreviously lived in the house, and this is the story she told:\n\nThe lady's husband worked night duty. One night her little girl,\ntwo-and-a-half years old, woke her up and said: \u201cLook, mum! there is\na man coming in our bedroom.\u201d There, on the landing, the mother saw an\nold man coming towards the bedroom door. She was unable to move for\nsome time, but, after a while, got up and lit the gas. Then, there was\nnothing to be seen. But the apparition appeared again later, and the\nnoises were so unnerving that they had to leave the house. The story\nof the haunting was noised about so much that the house was rebuilt,\nand the landlord went to live there. Strange to say, he soon left the\nplace. After all, one is bound to admit there must be something\nbehind all this. Even to this day I shudder when I think of this\nincident.\n\nTWO CURIOUS INCIDENTS\n\nIT has always seemed to me that authentic psychic happenings are\nsingularly inconsequent and bear no relation to their witnesses\u2014except\nin the case of appearances of dead relatives. Two such irrelevant\noccurrences stand out in my memory.\n\nMany years ago, when I was a young girl, I stayed in a large country\nhouse. This house was rented by my friends, and they knew no legends\nconnected with it. It was symmetrical in design, but one of the\nwindows on one side was blocked up, nor could any door be found by\nwhich one could enter the room corresponding to the blocked window.\n\nMy bedroom was underneath this mysterious chamber. For some nights\nnothing happened, but one evening just after the clock had struck\ntwelve, a most extraordinary noise took place above my head. I can\nonly compare it to the noise of sacks of coals being emptied. I sat\nup in bed terrified, too frightened to roam the large house by myself\nso late, and too terrified even to scream. The noise continued. Every\nminute I expected the ceiling to open and some spectre to alight on\nme. After what appeared to me an interminable time, the noise ceased\nand the clock struck one, so it had really lasted only an hour. Though\nI stayed on for some time longer, I never heard the sound again.\n\nMy other experience has a tinge of romance.\n\nIn the village where I lived there was a picturesque old farmhouse\nthat legend said was a gift to Nell Gwynne by her royal lover. Whether\nthere was any truth in this I cannot say, but it was said that on wet\nnights Nell haunted the lane passing her old dwelling place, and one\ncould hear her high heels tapping behind one as one passed that way.\n\nOne evening I was dining with friends, and the son of the house walked\nhome with me. He was a prosaic youth and believed in nothing he could\nnot see. The night was wet and foggy. As we passed the haunted spot we\nboth plainly heard the tap tap of the high heels belonging to the fair\nand frail lady.\n\nHe stopped and lit matches but nothing was to be seen and the\nfootsteps stopped. As we went on the pursuing steps began again and\ncontinued till the road turned into another lane.\n\nAN AWFUL EXPERIENCE\n\nSOME years ago some new houses were being built near Durham, and, on\ncompletion, one of them was taken by a bachelor gentleman, who, apart\nfrom his sister going in daily to do his cooking, etc., lived quite\nalone. The night in question, I was sleeping in the next house when\nsuddenly I was aroused by a loud hammering as though a bedstead was\nbeing taken down. It continued for some minutes, alternately stopping\na second, and then going on again. I strained my ears to listen, until\nit ceased, then I heard the gentleman go downstairs and out into the\nstreet, closing the door behind him.\n\nNext morning, I was surprised to see him removing his goods presumably\nto his sister's house. Seeing me standing at the door, he said, \u201cDid\nyou hear any noise from my bedroom last night?\u201d I said, \u201cYes. Whatever\nwere you doing?\u201d He replied, \u201cIt was the most awful experience I've\never had, and I wouldn't stay there another night, so I\u2019m moving out\nto-day.\u201d \u201cWhatever was the hammering?\u201d I asked, and he told me that he\nhad fallen asleep when he suddenly became conscious of some apparition\nin the room, although it was dark. Then blow after blow was made upon\nthe bottom of the iron bed rail (just as I had heard it) and the bed\nshook each time it was battered. Thoroughly scared, he lay speechless,\nunable to move until the spectre vanished; then he got a light,\nslipped into his things and ran downstairs and out of the house to his\nsister's. On examination, no marks were found on the bedstead, and his\nstory was confirmed, because I had heard the sounds next door, but no\ndiscovery was ever made regarding this unwelcome visitor.\n\nON THE YORKSHIRE MOORS\n\nTHE following is an accurate account of what occurred in a lonely\nhouse at a place called ... in Yorkshire on the moors and it goes to\nprove that ghosts do exist. My husband, when a boy, lived with his\nparents in this house which was on a hill surrounded by woods. They\nwere warned before going there that the house was haunted, but being\nChristian people, laughed at the idea. However, they had not long to\nwait before strange things began to happen. Often when lying in bed\nthey were awakened by hearing fearful noises downstairs, just as if\nsomeone was smashing all the china and furniture. On investigation,\neverything was found all right, but, while they were downstairs, the\nsame noises took place upstairs. One evening when they were all\nsitting round the fire there came such a bang at the stair door as if\nsomeone was beating it down. They quite expected to see the door\nsplintered, but it burst open intact and some vision flitted through\nthe room. The dogs, usually afraid of nothing, crouched down in fear,\nand the girls fainted with fright. There were other similar instances\nwhich I could quote. Things got so bad the family were compelled to\nleave the house and I understand no one has lived there since.\n\nFOOTSTEPS ON THE STAIRS\n\nMY late husband and I took a small semi-detached house in\nHertfordshire in 1911. One night in early autumn, we retired about\n10:15, as usual, and slept soundly until 1:30, when we were both\nawakened by the sound of footsteps coming upstairs. My husband\nimmediately switched on the light and we both sat up in bed,\nbreathlessly watching the bedroom door which was fastened. The\nfootsteps came nearer, a loose board on the landing creaked, and the\ndoor slowly opened. To our great surprise, no one entered. The door\nremained open, and the footsteps slowly retreated. My husband got up\nand searched all over the house and garden, but could find no trace\nof our visitor. So certain were we of someone coming in, that, in a\nsense, we should have been more satisfied had someone appeared,\npreferring to deal with the real, rather than the unreal. Both of us\nhad splendid nerves, but were obliged to confess the occurrence left\nus very shaky. Shortly after, we were obliged to give up the house\u2014a\nmove which led to a series of misfortunes which resulted in the death\nof my husband three years ago.\n\nIN DOUBT\n\nIF anyone had asked me seven years ago the question \u201cDo you believe in\nghosts and haunted houses?\u201d my answer would have been a very decided\n\u201cNo.\u201d But now I don't know. For several years I have been living in a\nvery old-fashioned cottage in a country village. Soon after settling\nhere, both I and my husband were awakened night after night by strange\nnoises, bumps as of something falling, sounds as of water dripping,\nand, most strange of all, every night at about the same time the latch\nof our stair-door would drop with a loud click as if someone had\nopened it hurriedly. Although we used to come down and search,\neverything was as usual, and nothing we could think of accounted for\nthe sounds. Each night, on retiring, I would firmly shut the\nstair-door, but still the latch would be heard to drop, and several\nnights, while having a light burning (through having to tend a small\nbaby) I have seen a shadow pass through the room and down the stairs.\nThen would come the dropping of the latch, but, however quickly I\nturned, or however long I watched, nothing appeared again the same\nnight. We would gladly have moved, but, owing to the shortage of\nhouses, it was impossible, and, in time, the sounds no longer\nstartled us; we had to get used to them. Now, if we are awakened\nsuddenly, my husband says, \u201cIt's only the ghost,\u201d and we go to sleep\nagain. But twice just lately I have lain awake and heard the latch\ndrop as before and at the same time.\n\nThe other day my husband was talking to a very old inhabitant of our\nvillage\u2014a man aged seventy-eight\u2014who, upon hearing where we lived\nsaid, \u201cLor', my boy, that's the house my father used to live in, where\nthe queer rows was, d'ye ever hear any now?\u201d\n\nWhat is the answer to the riddle of this old cottage, I wonder, ghosts\nor some other explanation? Anyhow I do know that during the next few\nmonths we shall gladly say \u201cgood-bye\u201d to it and take possession of a\nnew home, where I hope there will be nothing uncanny.\n\nA MIDNIGHT INTERRUPTION\n\nWHEN my aunt and I first came to reside in this town we rented for a\nshort time a self-contained, furnished flat in one of the old houses\nhere\u2014one that had no doubt seen better days.\n\nOur flat was the top one, having only unfurnished, and dilapidated\nattics above it, and was completely cut off from the lower tenants.\n\nWe used the attics as lumber rooms and, strangely enough, both of us\nfelt an inexplicable feeling of horror when in them even in broad\ndaylight.\n\nMy aunt and I occupied separate bedrooms, but always slept with our\ndoors slightly ajar.\n\nOne night (it was somewhere about midnight) I was awakened by my aunt\ncalling me. I ran into her room, which was next to mine, and found her\nsitting up in bed in terror, declaring that she had seen a dark figure\nstanding by the bedside looking down at her. She had spoken, thinking\nthat I had come to her for some reason, and had been horrified to find\nthe figure fade away, and that she had to call me several times to\nawaken me from sleep in the other room. We could find no way to\naccount for this, and next day were inclined to laugh at ourselves for\nour nervous terror. But, a few weeks after, I had a similar\nexperience.\n\nI was doing a piece of embroidery work as a gift for my aunt and, not\nwishing her to see it, and being rather pushed for time, after\nretiring to bed one night I re-lit my candle and sat up to continue my\nsewing. It was just about midnight and, after stitching away for a few\nminutes, I heard as I thought, my aunt moving in her room, come out\nof the door and along the passage. My bed was facing away from the\ndoor, but I turned my head and saw the door being pushed open. I then\nblew out the candle, not wishing her to see what I was doing. I heard\nher come in and stand behind me, and I said: \u201cWhat's the matter? Is\nanything wrong?\u201d On getting no reply, I again lit my candle and found\nno one in the room and everything silent. I went into my aunt\u2019s room\nto find her fast asleep in bed.\n\nNot being easily frightened, I started to work again the following\nnight, but exactly the same thing occurred, and when, on the third\nnight, this was again repeated, I made no further attempts at midnight\nsewing.\n\nWe could find no explanation whatever, and as it was during very calm\nweather, we could not attribute anything to the wind.\n\nThe tenants of the lower flats had no such experiences, but I feel\nsure that there was some strange and uncanny influence that proceeded\nfrom those attics and on occasion found their way into our flat.\nFortunately we had taken the rooms for only a short time, and were\nglad to move to a different part of the town. We have never since\nexperienced such a thing.\n\nA HOUSE \u201cTO LET\u201d\n\nWHEN I was a small child, my mother took a house near \u2014\u2014\u2014. As she\ncould never sleep in a strange house for some days, she sat up in bed\nreading a novel. Suddenly she looked up from the book and saw, coming\nfrom the direction of the door, a female figure clad in a blue\ndressing gown, with loosened golden hair about her shoulders. The\nfigure walked to the mantelpiece, took up a comb that was lying there,\ndrew it through her hair, turned from the mantelpiece, walked towards\nthe door and vanished. A few months after this my father died. Now,\nthis house had been taken on a three years\u2019 agreement, and my mother,\nafter her bereavement, wished to leave, but the owner was not inclined\nto release her. Mother spoke to her about the apparition, and told her\nshe could not stay. After breaking down, the unhappy woman said she\nknew this did occur at different times in the room mentioned, and she\nexplained that the figure was that of her niece who was murdered by\nher own sister through jealousy, as she was combing her hair. The\nspirit had been \u201cread down,\u201d but did not rest. The murderess died in\nan asylum. My mother was released from her agreement on a promise not\nto tell a possible tenant.\n\nSince then I have passed the house many times, and at intervals have\nseen the \u201cTo Let\u201d board in the garden.\n\nWORRIED ABOUT THE DEEDS OF THE HOUSE\n\nA FEW years ago my friend had to remove to another town owing to her\nhusband's work.\n\nShe was fortunate enough to get a very pretty, compact house just\noutside, and felt very proud of the fact, as houses just then were\nvery scarce.\n\nThis friend, by the way, was very strong minded, and did not know the\nmeaning of nerves.\n\nAfter she had been in the house a couple of weeks she was sleepless,\nafter having teeth extracted, and hadn't even dozed when she saw what\nshe described as a venerable old gentleman, with long, white beard\nand bent shoulders, standing close by the side of the bed with a\ndocument of some kind in his hand.\n\nShe awoke her husband and described what had taken place, but he only\nlaughed and said it was nightmare after too heavy a supper.\n\nSo on the second occasion that the same thing happened she refrained\nfrom telling him, as she didn't like being ridiculed.\n\nBut the strain of doing so must have told on her, as, after the third\ntime she saw the vision, her husband found her in a state of collapse.\n\nHe called in the doctor and explained what had caused the trouble. The\ndoctor at once said: \u201cOh, it was old So-and-so; he died in this room\nand had been rather worried about the deeds of this house.\u201d\n\nNeedless to say, her husband didn't ridicule her any more, but set\nabout looking for another house.\n\nA SINISTER ATMOSPHERE\n\nIT is pleasant to sit round the fire on a winter's evening and tell\nghost stories. A sort of thrill goes down one's spine which is not\naltogether unpleasant.\n\nIt is not, however, by any means pleasant to be in a house where one\nfrequently gets such thrills.\n\nSome years ago my mother and sister went to live in a large,\nold-fashioned farmhouse. All old houses seem to have an atmosphere of\ntheir own. Some speak of peace as one enters their doors; others of\nserenity. Then, again, in other houses one realises an atmosphere of\ndepression. In this old house the atmosphere seemed almost sinister.\nThere were such strange unaccountable noises, tappings, knocking and\nbanging everywhere, that one could not sit in comfort in any of the\nrooms.\n\nOne time, when I went over to help nurse my mother, who was ill, a\nfriend and I who were sitting up at night heard distinct footsteps\ncrossing a large, unoccupied, adjoining bedroom.\n\nThe nurse who came later also heard these footsteps repeatedly and,\nstrangely, each morning a framed photograph on the mantelpiece was\nlying on the floor. We also heard music, which sounded like the faint,\nsweet music of an old harpsichord.\n\nOne of the most frequent noises sounded as though a chair was being\ndragged along the kitchen floor, and there seemed to pass a dim\npresence with a breath of cold air across the kitchen.\n\nThese strange, unaccountable happenings were so disturbing that my\nsister became afraid to sleep alone in a room.\n\nMy mother and sister have now left the house and neighbourhood, but\nrecently I was interested to hear that the people who now live there\nhear the same uncanny noises.\n\nI think there must be an explanation of these strange sounds, and no\ndoubt one will yet be found.\n\nWAS IT A MONK?\n\nWE live in a rambling, old-fashioned house which is supposed to\nconnect by underground passage with the church and an old priory. In\nthe older wing of the house are two bedrooms, the smaller one leading\ninto the larger by a little passage. For a while I slept alone in this\nwing, and, night after night, I was roused in the early hours by the\nsound of slow, measured footsteps. They came from the smaller room,\nthrough the passage, and paused at the foot of the bed, then retreated\nwith the same slow, measured strides. They sounded like the steps of a\nman wearing soft sandals. I lit the candle, but the room was empty and\nthe connecting door was shut. Each time I struck a light the sound\nceased and the room was empty, only the air seemed colder and there\nwas a faint earthy smell. I said nothing about it, as I feared\nridicule.\n\nLater my brother returned home from abroad, and those rooms were given\nto his use. One morning he asked if I had heard any strange sounds\nwhile sleeping there, and told me he had heard someone walking. We\ncompared notes and found our experiences precisely the same.\n\nIs it the ghost of an old monk engaged in meditation?\n\nA SHADOWY FIGURE\n\nONE warm afternoon in the summer of 1901 my grandmother asked me to\ncome into her bedroom because, in the big bow window of the house\noverlooking our garden, there was, so she said, a ghost.\n\nShe pointed to the window. \u201cDon't you see it, my dear? It's like the\nfigure of a woman. The people have left the house because it is\nhaunted.\u201d\n\n\u201cRubbish!\u201d I answered. \u201cI can\u2019t see anyone.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d she repeated, \u201cit looks to me like a woman.\u201d\n\nI saw nothing, and said so. The next afternoon I was sitting by myself\nin the garden, looking up at the bow window, when to my amazement a\nshadowy figure as of a woman appeared on the pane. I was terrified and\nwent indoors, but I would not say a word to anyone for fear of being\nlaughed at.\n\nFor the next six weeks I saw that figure constantly and always in the\nbroad daylight, at 8:30 a.m., when I started for college, at one or\nfour, or any time in the full light of day. The house was empty; I\nfound that out.\n\nI hated the shadowy thing, but there it was.\n\nAfter about six weeks had passed it disappeared, and I have not seen\nit from that day to this. So far as I know, there is no mystery\nconnected with the house, which is quite a modern one in a very\nunromantic situation.\n\nI can only say that to the best of my knowledge this is the truth, and\nI should be only too glad to understand what the apparition was.\n\nWHAT WAS IT?\n\nMY house is in a quiet corner of a quiet square. We are sheltered\nfrom wind and noise, even when it is stormy. About three years ago I\nwas living here quite alone and, while undressing, about eleven\no'clock one night, when there was not a breath of wind or a sound to\nbe heard, I suddenly heard a noise in the hall below, like air moving\nswiftly round and round with a swishing noise, as when something is\nswung from the end of a string. Then it began to move and come up the\nstairs. I was very frightened and said to myself\u2014although I knew it\nwasn't\u2014\u201cThis is wind; it will pass out at the landing window.\u201d But it\ndidn\u2019t; it turned the corners\u2014two corners, in fact\u2014and came straight\nalong the corridor and shook the handle of my bedroom door strongly.\nThen all was quiet as before. I should very much like to know just\nwhat it was.\n\nSOMEBODY WAS BITING HER EARS\n\nIN 1913 my husband and self and two children went to reside in North\nDevon, and took a house that had been empty some years. It was old and\nnext to a churchyard. The landlord was anxious for us to take the\nhouse, and had it decorated. We took it on a weekly tenancy. Within\nthe first week of our occupation my little daughter, aged two years,\nused to wake up at midnight screaming and say somebody was biting her\nears. At the same time I used to break out into a cold sweat and\ntremble from head to feet. Then I saw a tall shadow go round the room\nwith a lighted candle and disappear before it reached me. I was quite\nunable to get out of bed to take my baby into my bed. My husband saw\nnone of this. My son, aged eight years, would ask us why we always\nrapped on his wall at night, and once he said he saw a hand over his\nbed. The last week of our occupation my husband heard padded feet come\nup the stairs and to the bedroom door, but no one entered. Curiously\nenough, fresh flowers put into a room at night would be quite dead the\nnext morning. We stayed in that house only six weeks, and found no\nsolution to the mystery.\n\nGETTING USED TO IT\n\nWE live in an old house with long passages, so when we intend to pass\nan afternoon or evening in a back room, somebody usually locks and\nbolts the front door against sneak-thieves.\n\nMore times than we can count we have heard someone open and close the\nfront door, rattle his stick into the hall-stand, and walk up the\npassage into the drawing-room.\n\nYet, on going to see, we have found no one in the house and the door\nlocked and bolted just as we had left it. This has occurred both in\nthe afternoon and evening.\n\nMany times, also, anyone awake in the night has heard someone open the\nbathroom door, walk along the upstairs passage and go downstairs.\nAgain, \u201cno one.\u201d\n\nBoth these phenomena have been experienced by visitors, some of whom\nhave proved decidedly nervous as a consequence; but, as nothing ever\nfollows the sounds, we do not worry, and we have lived through them\nfor ten years.\n\nAN UNSOLVED MYSTERY\n\nWITHIN half an hour's journey of the City of London, in one of its\npleasant suburbs, stands a pretty little house in a quiet and pretty\nroad. There is nothing in the least remarkable in its appearance; a\none-storeyed, bay-windowed house, with a high thick-set hedge and a\nholly tree in the front garden. Yet some years ago we experienced some\nvery unpleasant thrills within its prosaic looking doors. It looked\nthen, as it does now, particularly bright and cheerful and even new\u2014on\nthe outside. We went there in 1912, and for many months nothing\nhappened, though we experienced many minor \u201cqueernesses.\u201d\n\nFor instance, one winter evening, when there was a bright fire burning\nin the front room, the door closed, the table cloth blew right up as\nthough a strong wind stirred it, and covered my brother's dinner which\nwas then laid.\n\nOne night, mother and I were sitting together playing cards, laughing\nand chatting gaily, a bright fire burning, the room well lighted,\neverything about us very matter of fact, and we ourselves feeling in\nthe highest spirits. Suddenly three sharp, clear shots rang out,\nseeming to come from the back room which we called the garden room\nbecause it gave straight on to the garden. We both jumped up,\nscattering the cards on the floor, and mother ran to the door. As she\nopened it, I saw her stand, rigid: the dark, heavy curtains in the\nhall leading to the stairs were waving to and fro as though blown by\na strong breeze. She afterwards told me that she felt her scalp freeze\nand her hair rise. I was trembling, but advanced boldly to the stairs\nand commenced to ascend. When I reached the third from the top I\nstood, rooted; my feet refused to carry me any further. I lifted them\nto do so; but it was of no use, so I was obliged to come down again. All\nthe time I had that horrible and indefinable feeling that there was\nanother presence near me, all about the house, besides my mother's. My\nsister came in and we told her.\n\nOn two more successive nights we were tormented with most weird and\nhateful noises, which disturbed our peace and made us unable to do\nanything while they continued.\n\nMy sister was with us the next night, and this time, not shots but\nother noises, seeming to come from the cellar, occurred. Sometimes we\nknocked at the walls and cellar door, but this only seemed to\naggravate the unknown disturbers; for the sounds were redoubled.\n\nKnowing that rats sometimes make strange noises, my mother put some\npieces of fat meat in the cellar in likely places. But no trace of\nmice or rats did we ever discover and the meat remained untouched.\n\nOn the last night of these visitations, my brother was with us, and I\nthink it was as well, for our nerves would not have borne much more\nalone. Still the noises in the cellar continued, and this time like\nloud, heavy footsteps walking up and down. We were kept up until the\nsmall hours with these horrid sounds almost continuous until, at last,\nthey ceased altogether, and we were permitted to sleep.\n\nNext day a complete search of the cellar was made, but no trace of\nanything or anyone was found.\n\nSoon after, we moved away, but from that day to this our strange\nexperience has been an unsolved mystery.\n\nTHAT NAUGHTY MAN\n\n\u201cGHOSTS or no ghosts,\u201d said my friend Terrington, \u201cwhat I am going to\ntell you is absolutely true. It is strange and inexplicable, and I\nmake no effort to explain the happening. Listen.\u201d\n\nTwenty-five years ago I obtained work at a factory in a northern town,\nand, eventually, got a house near my work\u2014a little old-fashioned\ndwelling which had once been used as a shop. My little girl, Marion,\nwas then about four years old and had always been a good child to take\nto bed.\n\nBut a few weeks after our going to that place, she simply would not be\nleft in bed alone. She and her sister slept together, and once, in the\nmiddle of the night, she awakened us by screaming loudly. I hastened\nto the room, but unable to pacify her, I brought her into my own bed.\nOf this occurrence I thought little, thinking that the child had just\nhad a bad dream.\n\nA few nights afterwards, I took her upstairs to bed and gently chided\nher for being such a frightened girl, and asked her why she did not\nlike to go to bed alone, as she had always been in the habit of doing.\n\u201cOh, dada,\u201d she said, \u201cI don\u2019t like that naughty man!\u201d \u201cWhich naughty\nman?\u201d I asked. \u201cOh that bad man! That naughty man, all dirty here.\u201d\nAnd she drew her hand across her little neck.\n\nI assured her that there was no bad man, but the fear never left her.\n\nA few days afterwards, one of my work-mates asked me how I liked my\nhouse, which I told him was all right and very handy for my work. But\nmy liking was turned to antipathy when he related how the place had\nonce been occupied by an old chemist who committed suicide by cutting\nhis throat. He was found in the very room in which my little daughter\nslept.\n\nI can assure you that not one of my family knew of the tragedy which\nonce occurred in that little house, but I soon found a reasonable\nexcuse to leave it.\n\nTHE ROW DOWNSTAIRS\n\nABOUT twenty years ago I secured the tenancy of a large cottage,\nformerly an inn, in the suburbs of Bristol, not knowing at the time\nit had the reputation of being haunted, and caring nothing when I was\ninformed. For some time nothing unusual happened, then my wife\ncomplained of hearing noises in the night, generally when I was away\nfrom home. But occasionally we both heard them. One night, about a\nyear after we had taken the house, I was awakened and kept awake by\nwhat seemed to be the movement of all the articles of furniture\ndownstairs\u2014chairs, tables, etc., being, apparently, lifted off the\nground and noisily replaced; after listening to this for some\nminutes, my wife, who I thought was asleep, said, \u201cNow, hark at the\nrow downstairs.\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d said I, \u201cthere's something going on down\nthere to-night,\u201d and I lighted a candle and went down, but, rather to\nmy disappointment, the noises ceased as I was descending the stairs,\nand, though I examined each room carefully, nothing was out of place.\nThere was no dog or cat in the house to put the blame on. My wife\nalways fastened the door before retiring, but on several occasions we\nfound the front door wide open in the morning, although it had been\nfastened by a spring lock\u2014a big old-fashioned lock and a bolt. We\nlived in the house for over two years, and, towards the end of our\ntenancy, my wife would on no account stay in the house at night in my\nabsence, without having an adult friend with her in addition to the\nchildren.\n\nA HEADLESS FORM\n\nMY parents rented a very large old-fashioned house in Norfolk,\nstanding on its own grounds.\n\nLiving with them was a very pious old lady, also an uncle of mine. One\ndark, still night, my mother was sitting alone sewing when, suddenly,\nthe room seemed to be filled with a rushing wind, and she experienced\nthe feeling of a cold hand pressed upon her cheek, followed by a low\nwail and moan. She said nothing to the other inmates of the occurrence\nat the time.\n\nTwo nights later, my father went to the pantry which was approached\nby a short passage. There by the door he saw standing the headless\nform of a man wearing a brown coat with large pearl buttons attached.\nAfter a few days had passed, the old lady asked my mother whether she\nthought there was in the house anyone who walked in his sleep as for\nseveral nights past, she had had her bedroom door opened and closed,\nand she distinctly heard footsteps along the landing and staircase.\n\nFor two nights in succession my uncle got out of bed and closed his\nbedroom door three times each night. He examined the door and found\nit impossible to open without some aid. Each one of these inmates\nrelated to one another their experiences. They decided to keep watch\nfor a few nights, but nothing happened. Needless to say, they soon\nquitted the house. Rumour followed that the place was once known as a\nhouse of ill-fame.","title":"Ghosts in the Great War, and true tales of haunted houses : $b Thrilling experience of \"Daily News\" readers","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":42309}