DEATH WARNINGS AND FAMILY GHOSTS
Candles are very subject to psychic influences. Many years ago, when I
was a boy, I was sitting in a room with some very dear friends of mine,
when one of them, suddenly turning livid, pointed at the candle, and
with eyes starting out of their sockets, screamed, "A winding-sheet! A
winding-sheet! See! it is pointing at me!" We were all so frightened by
the suddenness of her action, that for some seconds no one spoke, but
all sat transfixed with horror, gaping at the candle. "It must be my
brother Tom," she continued, "or Jack. Can't you see it?" Then, one
after another, we all examined the candle and discovered that what she
said was quite true--there was an unmistakable winding-sheet in the wax,
and it emphatically pointed in her direction. Nor were her surmisings in
vain, for the next morning she received a telegram to say her brother
Tom had died suddenly. I am sceptical with regard to some
manifestations, but I certainly do believe in this one, and I often
regard my candle anxiously, fearing that I may see a winding-sheet in
it.
To have three candles lighted at the same time is also an omen of
death, and as I have known it to be fulfilled in several cases within my
own experience, I cannot help regarding it as one of the most certain.
I am sometimes informed of the advent of the occult in a very startling
manner--my candle burns blue. It has done this when I have been sitting
alone in my study, at night, writing. I have been busily engaged penning
descriptions of the ghosts I and others have seen, when I have been
startled by the fact that my paper, originally white, has suddenly
become the colour of the sky, and on looking hastily up to discover a
reason, have been in no small measure shocked to see my candle burning a
bright blue. An occult manifestation of sorts has invariably followed. I
am often warned of the near advent of the occult in this same manner
when I am investigating in a haunted house--the flame of the candle
burns blue before the appearance of the ghost. It is, by the way, an
error to think that different types of phantasms can only appear in
certain colours--colours that are peculiar to them. I have seen the same
phenomenon manifest itself in half a dozen different colours, and blue
is as often adopted by the higher types of spirits as by the lower, and
is, in fact, common to both. I have little patience with occultists who
draw hard and fast lines, and, ignoring everybody else's experiences,
presume to diagnose within the narrow limits of their own. No one can as
yet say anything for certain with regard to the superphysical, and the
statements of the most humble psychic investigator, provided he has had
actual experience, and is genuine, are just as worthy of attention as
those of the most eminent exponents of theosophy or spiritualism, or of
any learned member of the Psychical Research Societies. The occult does
not reveal itself to the rich in preference to the poor, and, for
manifestation, is not more partial to the Professor of Physics and Law
than to the Professor of Nothing--other than keen interest and common
sense.
_Corpse-candles_
In Wales there are corpse-candles. According to the account of the Rev.
Mr Davis in a work by T. Charley entitled _The Invisible World_,
corpse-candles are so called because their light resembles a material
candle-light, and might be mistaken for the same, saving that when
anyone approaches them they vanish, and presently reappear. If the
corpse-candle be small, pale, or bluish, it denotes the death of an
infant; if it be big, the death of an adult is foretold; and if there
are two, three, or more candle-lights, varying in size, then the deaths
are predicted of a corresponding number of infants and adults. "Of
late," the Rev. Mr Davis goes on to say (I quote him _ad verbum_), "my
sexton's wife, an aged, understanding woman, saw from her bed a little
bluish candle upon her table: within two or three days after comes a
fellow in, inquiring for her husband, and, taking something from under
his cloak, clapt it down directly upon the table end where she had seen
the candle; and what was it but a dead-born child? Another time, the
same woman saw such another candle upon the other end of the same
table: within a few days later, a weak child, by myself newly
christened, was brought into the sexton's house, where presently he
died; and when the sexton's wife, who was then abroad, came home, she
found the women shrouding the child on that other end of the table where
she had seen the candle. On a time, myself and a huntsman coming from
our school in England, and being three or four hours benighted ere we
could reach home, saw such a light, which, coming from a house we well
knew, held its course (but not directly) in the highway to church:
shortly after, the eldest son in that house died, and steered the same
course.... About thirty-four or thirty-five years since, one Jane Wyatt,
my wife's sister, being nurse to Baronet Rud's three eldest children,
and (the lady being deceased) the lady of the house going late into a
chamber where the maid-servants lay, saw there no less than five of
these lights together. It happened awhile after, the chamber being newly
plastered, and a great grate of coal-fire therein kindled to hasten the
drying up of the plastering, that five of the maid-servants went there
to bed as they were wont; but in the morning they were all dead, being
suffocated in their sleep with the steam of the newly tempered lime and
coal. This was at Llangathen in Carmarthen."
So wrote the Rev. Mr Davis, and in an old number of _Frazer's Journal_ I
came across the following account of death-tokens, which, although not
exactly corpse-candles, might certainly be classed in the same category.
It ran thus:
"In a wild and retired district in North Wales, the following
occurrence took place, to the great astonishment of the mountaineers. We
can vouch for the truth of the statement, as many of our own teutu, or
clan, were witnesses of the facts. On a dark evening a few weeks ago,
some persons, with whom we are well acquainted, were returning to
Barmouth on the south or opposite side of the river. As they approached
the ferry house at Penthryn, which is directly opposite Barmouth, they
observed a light near the house, which they conjectured to be produced
by a bonfire, and greatly puzzled they were to discover the reason why
it should have been lighted. As they came nearer, however, it vanished;
and when they inquired at the house respecting it, they were surprised
to learn that not only had the people there displayed no light, but they
had not even seen one; nor could they perceive any signs of it on the
sands. On reaching Barmouth, the circumstance was mentioned, and the
fact corroborated by some of the people there, who had also plainly and
distinctly seen the light. It was settled, therefore, by some of the old
fishermen that this was a death-token; and, sure enough, the man who
kept the ferry at that time was drowned at high water a few nights
afterwards, on the very spot where the light was seen. He was landing
from the boat, when he fell into the water, and so perished. The same
winter the Barmouth people, as well as the inhabitants of the opposite
bank, were struck by the appearance of a number of small lights, which
were seen dancing in the air at a place called Borthwyn, about half a
mile from the town. A great number of people came out to see these
lights; and after awhile they all but one disappeared, and this one
proceeded slowly towards the water's edge to a little bay where some
boats were moored. The men in a sloop which was anchored near the spot
saw the light advancing, they saw it also hover for a few seconds over
one particular boat, and then totally disappear. Two or three days
afterwards, the man to whom that particular boat belonged was drowned in
the river, while he was sailing about Barmouth harbour in that very
boat."
As the corpse-candle is obviously a phantasm whose invariable custom is
to foretell death, it must, I think, be classified with that species of
elementals which I have named--for want of a more appropriate
title--CLANOGRIAN. CLANOGRIANS embrace every kind of national and family
ghost, such as The White Owl of the Arundels, the Drummer of the
Airlies, and the Banshee of the O'Neills and O'Donnells.
With regard to the origin of corpse-candles, as of all other
clanogrians, one can only speculate. The powers that govern the
superphysical world have much in their close keeping that they
absolutely refuse to disclose to mortal man. Presuming, however, that
corpse-candles and all sorts of family ghosts are analogous, I should
say that the former are spirits which have attached themselves to
certain localities, either owing to some great crime or crimes having
been committed there in the past, or because at some still more remote
period the inhabitants of those parts--the Milesians and Nemedhians, the
early ancestors of the Irish, dabbled in sorcery.
_Fire-coffins_
Who has not seen all manner of pictures in the fire? Who has not seen,
or fancied he has seen, a fire-coffin? A fire-coffin is a bit of red-hot
coal that pops mysteriously out of the grate in the rude shape of a
coffin, and is prophetic of death, not necessarily the death of the
beholder, but of someone known to him.
_The Death-watch_
Though this omen in a room is undoubtedly due to the presence in the
woodwork of the wall of a minute beetle of the timber-boring genus
ANOBIUM, it is a strange fact that its ticking should only be heard
before the death of someone, who, if not living in the house, is
connected with someone who does live in it. From this fact, one is led
to suppose that this minute beetle has an intuitive knowledge of
impending death, as is the case with certain people and also certain
animals.
The noise is said to be produced by the beetle raising itself upon its
hind legs (see _Popular Errors explained_, by John Timbs), with the body
somewhat inclined, and beating its head with great force and agility
upon the plane of position; and its strokes are so powerful as to be
heard from some little distance. It usually taps from six to twelve
times in succession, then pauses, and then recommences. It is an error
to suppose it only ticks in the spring, for I know those who have heard
its ticking at other, and indeed, at all times in the year.
_Owls_
Owls have always been deemed psychic, and they figure ominously in the
folk-lore of many countries. I myself can testify to the fact that they
are often the harbinger of death, as I have on several occasions been
present when the screeching of an owl, just outside the window, has
occurred almost coincident with the death of someone, nearly related
either to myself or to one of my companions. That owls have the faculty
of "scenting the approach of death" is to my mind no mere idle
superstition, for we constantly read about them hovering around gibbets,
and they have not infrequently been known to consummate Heaven's wrath
by plucking out the eyes of the still living murderers and feeding on
their brains. That they also have tastes in common with the least
desirable of the occult world may be gathered from the fact that they
show a distinct preference for the haunts of vagrarians, barrowvians,
and other kinds of elementals; and even the worthy Isaiah goes so far as
to couple them with satyrs.
Occasionally, too, as in the case of the Arundels of Wardour, where a
white owl is seen before the death of one of the family, they perform
the function of clanogrians.
_Ravens_
A close rival of the owl in psychic significance is the raven, the
subtle, cunning, ghostly raven that taps on window-panes and croaks
dismally before a death or illness. I love ravens--they have the
greatest fascination for me. Years ago I had a raven, but, alas! only
for a time, a very short time. It came to me one gloomy night, when the
wind was blowing and the rain falling in cataracts. I was at the
time--and as usual--writing ghost tales. Thought I to myself, this raven
is just what I want; I will make a great friend of it, it shall sit at
my table while I write and inspire me with its eyes--its esoteric eyes
and mystic voice. I let it in, gave it food and shelter, and we settled
down together, the raven and I, both revellers in the occult, both
lovers of solitude. But it proved to be a worthless bird, a shallow,
empty-minded, shameless bird, and all I gleaned from it was--idleness.
It made me listless and restless; it filled me with cravings, not for
work, but for nature, for the dark open air of night-time, for the vast
loneliness of mountains, the deep secluded valleys, the rushing, foaming
flow of streams, and for woods--ah! how I love the woods!--woods full of
stalwart oaks and silvery beeches, full of silent, moon-kissed glades,
nymphs, sirens, and pixies. Ah! how I longed for all these, and more
besides--for anything and everything that appertained neither to man nor
his works. Then I said good-bye to the raven, and, taking it with me to
the top of a high hill, let it go. Croaking, croaking, croaking it flew
away, without giving me as much as one farewell glance.
_Mermaids_
Who would not, if they could, believe in mermaids? Surely all save those
who have no sense of the beautiful--of poetry, flowers, painting, music,
romance; all save those who have never built fairy castles in the air
nor seen fairy palaces in the fire; all save those whose minds, steeped
in money-making, are both sordid and stunted. That mermaids did exist,
and more or less in legendary form, I think quite probable, for I feel
sure there was a time in the earth's history when man was in much closer
touch with the superphysical than he is at present. They may, I think,
be classified with pixies, nymphs, and sylphs, and other pleasant types
of elementals that ceased to fraternise with man when he became more
plentiful and forsook the simple mode of living for the artificial.
Pixies, nymphs, sylphs, and other similar kinds of fairies are all
harmless and benevolent elementals, and I believe they were all fond of
visiting this earth, but that they seldom visit it now, only appearing
at rare intervals to a highly favoured few.
_The Wandering Jew_
No story fascinated me more when I was a boy than that of Ahasuerus, the
Wandering Jew. How vividly I saw him--in my mental vision--with his
hooked nose, and wild, dark eyes, gleaming with hatred, cruelty, and
terror, spit out his curses at Christ and frantically bid him begone!
And Christ! How plainly I saw Him, too, bathed in the sweat of agony,
stumbling, staggering, reeling, and tottering beneath the cross he had
to carry! And then the climax--the calm, biting, damning climax. "Tarry
thou till I come!" How distinctly I heard Christ utter those words, and
with what relief I watched the pallor of sickly fear and superstition
steal into the Jew's eyes and overspread his cheeks! And he is said to
be living now! Periodically he turns up in some portion or other of the
globe, causing a great sensation. And many are the people who claim to
have met him--the man whom no prison can detain, no fetters hold; who
can reel off the history of the last nineteen hundred odd years with the
most minute fluency, and with an intimate knowledge of men and things
long since dead and forgotten. Ahasuerus, still, always, ever
Ahasuerus--no matter whether we call him Joseph, Cartaphilus, or
Salathiel, his fine name and guilty life stick to him--he can get rid of
neither. For all time he is, and must be, Ahasuerus, the Wandering
Jew--the Jew Christ damned.
_Attendant Spirits_
I believe that, from the moment of our birth, most, if not all of us,
have our attendant spirits, namely, a spirit sent by the higher occult
powers that are in favour of man's spiritual progress, whose function it
is to guide us in the path of virtue and guard us from physical danger,
and a spirit sent by the higher occult powers that are antagonistic to
man's spiritual progress, whose function it is to lead us into all sorts
of mental, moral, and spiritual evil, and also to bring about our path
some bodily harm. The former is a benevolent elemental, well known to
the many, and termed by them "Our Guardian Angel"; the latter is a vice
elemental, equally well known perhaps, to the many, and termed by them
"Our Evil Genie." The benevolent creative powers and the evil creative
powers (in whose service respectively our attendant spirits are
employed) are for ever contending for man's superphysical body, and it
is, perhaps, only in the proportion of our response to the influences of
these attendant spirits, that we either evolve to a higher spiritual
plane, or remain earth-bound. I, myself, having been through many
vicissitudes, feel that I owe both my moral and physical preservation
from danger entirely to the vigilance of my guardian attendant spirit. I
was once travelling in the United States at the time of a great railway
strike. The strikers held up my train at Crown Point, a few miles
outside Chicago; and as I was forced to take to flight, and leave my
baggage (which unfortunately contained all my ready money), I arrived in
Chicago late at night without a cent on me. Beyond the clothes I had on,
I had nothing; consequently, on my presenting myself at a hotel with the
request for a night's lodging, I was curtly refused. One hotel after
another, one house after another, I tried, but always with the same
result; having no luggage, and being unable to pay a deposit, no one
would take me. The night advanced; the streets became rougher and
rougher, for Chicago just then was teeming with the scum of the earth,
ruffians of every description, who would cheerfully have cut any man's
throat simply for the sake of his clothes. All around me was a sea of
swarthy faces with insolent, sinister eyes that flashed and glittered in
the gaslight. I was pushed, jostled, and cursed, and the bare thought of
having to spend a whole night amid such a foul, cut-throat horde filled
me with dismay. Yet what could I do? Clearly nothing, until the morning,
when I should be able to explain my position to the British Consul. The
knowledge that in all the crises through which I had hitherto passed, my
guardian spirit had never deserted me, gave me hope, and I prayed
devoutly that it would now come to my assistance and help me to get to
some place of shelter.
Time passed, and as my prayers were not answered, I repeated them with
increased vigour. Then, quite suddenly, a man stepped out from the dark
entrance to a by-street, and, touching me lightly on the arm, said, "Is
there anything amiss? I have been looking at you for some time, and a
feeling has come over me that you need assistance. What is the matter?"
I regarded the speaker earnestly, and, convinced that he was honest,
told him my story, whereupon to my delight he at once said, "I think I
can help you, for a friend of mine runs a small but thoroughly
respectable hotel close to here, and, if you like to trust yourself to
my guidance, I will take you there and explain your penniless
condition." I accepted his offer; what he said proved to be correct; the
hotel-keeper believed my story, and I passed the night in decency and
comfort. In the morning the proprietor lent me the requisite amount of
money for a cablegram to Europe. My bank in England cabled to a bank in
Chicago, and the hotel-keeper generously made himself responsible for my
identity; the draft was cashed, and I was once again able to proceed on
my journey. But what caused the man in the street to notice me? What
prompted him to lend me his aid? Surely my guardian spirit. Again, when
in Denver, in the Denver of old times, before it had grown into anything
like the city it is now, I was seized with a severe attack of dysentery,
and the owner of the hotel in which I was staying, believing it to be
cholera, turned me, weak and faint as I was, into the street. I tried
everywhere to get shelter; the ghastly pallor and emaciation of my
countenance went against me--no one, not even by dint of bribing, for I
was then well off, would take me in. At last, completely overcome by
exhaustion, I sank down in the street, where, in all probability, I
should have remained all night, had not a negro suddenly come up to me,
and, with a sympathetic expression in his face, asked if he could help
me. "I passed you some time ago," he said, "and noticed how ill you
looked, but I did not like to speak to you for fear you might resent it,
but I had not got far before I felt compelled to turn back. I tried to
resist this impulse, but it was no good. What ails you?" I told him. For
a moment or so he was silent, and then, his face brightening up, he
exclaimed, "I think I can help you. Come along with me," and, helping me
gently to my feet, he conducted me to his own house, not a very grand
one, it is true, but scrupulously clean and well conducted, and I
remained there until I was thoroughly sound and fit. The negro is not as
a rule a creature of impulse, and here again I felt that I owed my
preservation to the kindly interference of my guardian spirit.
Thrice I have been nearly drowned, and on both occasions saved as by a
miracle, or, in other words, by my attendant guardian spirit. Once, when
I was bathing alone in a Scotch loch and had swum out some considerable
distance, I suddenly became exhausted, and realised with terror that it
was quite impossible for me to regain the shore. I was making a last
futile effort to strike out, when something came bobbing up against me.
It was an oar! Whence it had come Heaven alone knew, for Heaven alone
could have sent it. Leaning my chin lightly on it and propelling myself
gently with my limbs, I had no difficulty in keeping afloat, and
eventually reached the land in safety. The scene of my next miraculous
rescue from drowning was a river. In diving into the water off a boat, I
got my legs entangled in a thick undergrowth of weeds. Frantically
struggling to get free and realising only too acutely the seriousness of
my position, for my lungs were on the verge of bursting, I fervently
solicited the succour of my guardian spirit, and had no sooner done so,
than I fancied I felt soft hands press against my flesh, and the next
moment my body had risen to the surface. No living person was within
sight, so that my rescuer could only have been--as usual--my guardian
spirit.
Several times I fancy I have seen her, white, luminous, and shadowy,
but for all that suggestive of great beauty. Once, too, in the wilder
moments of my youth, when I contemplated rash deeds, I heard her sigh,
and the sigh, sinking down into the furthermost recesses of my soul,
drowned all my thoughts of rash deeds in a thousand reverberating
echoes. I have been invariably warned by strangers against taking a
false step that would unquestionably have led to the direst misfortune.
I meet a stranger, and without the slightest hint from me, he touches
upon the very matter uppermost in my mind, and, in a few earnest and
never-to-be-forgotten words of admonition, deters me from my scheme.
Whence come these strangers, to all appearance of flesh and blood like
myself? Were they my guardian spirit in temporary material guise, or
were they human beings that, like the hotel proprietor's friend in
Chicago, and the negro, have been impelled by my guardian spirit to
converse with me and by their friendly assistance save me? Many of the
faces we see around us every day are, I believe, attendant spirits, and
phantasms of every species, that have adopted physical form for some
specific purpose.
_Banshees_
It has been suggested that banshees are guardian spirits and evil genii;
but I do not think so, for whereas one or other of the two latter
phantasms (sometimes both) are in constant attendance on man, banshees
only visit certain families before a catastrophe about to happen in
those families, or before the death of a member of those families. As
to their origin, little can be said, for little is at present known.
Some say their attachment to a family is due to some crime perpetrated
by a member of that family in the far dim past, whilst others attribute
it to the fact that certain classes and races in bygone times dabbled in
sorcery, thus attracting the elementals, which have haunted them ever
since. Others, again, claim that banshees are mere thought
materialisations handed down from one generation to another. But
although no one knows the origin and nature of a banshee, the statements
of those who have actually experienced these hauntings should surely
carry far more weight and command more attention than the statements of
those who only speak from hearsay; for it is, after all, only the
sensation of actual experience that can guide us in the study of this
subject; and, perhaps, through our "sensations" alone, the key to it
will one day be found. A phantasm produces an effect on us totally
unlike any that can be produced by physical agency--at least such is my
experience--hence, for those who have never come in contact with the
unknown to pronounce any verdict on it, is to my mind both futile and
absurd. Of one thing, at least, I am sure, namely, that banshees are no
more thought materialisations than they are cats--neither are they in
any way traceable to telepathy or suggestion; they are entirely due to
objective spirit forms. I do not base this assertion on a knowledge
gained from other people's experiences--and surely the information thus
gained cannot properly be termed knowledge--but from the sensations I
myself, as a member of an old Irish clan, have experienced from the
hauntings of the banshee--the banshee that down through the long links
of my Celtic ancestry, through all vicissitudes, through all changes of
fortune, has followed us, and will follow us, to the end of time.
Because it is customary to speak of an Irish family ghost by its generic
title, the banshee, it must not be supposed that every Irish family
possessing a ghost is haunted by the same phantasm--the same banshee.
In Ireland, as in other countries, family ghosts are varied and
distinct, and consequently there are many and varying forms of the
banshee. To a member of our clan, a single wail signifies the advent of
the banshee, which, when materialised, is not beautiful to look upon.
The banshee does not necessarily signify its advent by one wail--that of
a clan allied to us wails three times. Another banshee does not wail at
all, but moans, and yet another heralds its approach with music. When
materialised, to quote only a few instances, one banshee is in the form
of a beautiful girl, another is in the form of a hideous prehistoric
hag, and another in the form of a head--only a head with rough matted
hair and malevolent, bestial eyes.
_Scottish Ghosts_
When it is remembered that the ancestors of the Highlanders, _i.e._, the
Picts and Scots, originally came from Ireland and are of Formosian and
Milesian descent, it will be readily understood that their proud old
clans--and rightly proud, for who but a grovelling money grubber would
not sooner be descended from a warrior, elected chief, on account of his
all-round prowess, than from some measly hireling whose instincts were
all mercenary?--possess ghosts that are nearly allied to the banshee.
The Airlie family, whose headquarters are at Cortachy Castle, is haunted
by the phantasm of a drummer that beats a tattoo before the death of one
of the members of the clan. There is no question as to the genuineness
of this haunting, its actuality is beyond dispute. All sorts of theories
as to the origin of this ghostly drummer have been advanced by a prying,
inquisitive public, but it is extremely doubtful if any of them approach
the truth. Other families have pipers that pipe a dismal dirge, and
skaters that are seen skating even when there is no ice, and always
before a death or great calamity.
_English Family Ghosts_
There are a few old English families, too, families who, in all
probability, can point to Celtic blood at some distant period in their
history, that possess family ghosts. I have, for example, stayed in one
house where, prior to a death, a boat is seen gliding noiselessly along
a stream that flows through the grounds. The rower is invariably the
person doomed to die. A friend of mine, who was very sceptical in such
matters, was fishing in this stream late one evening when he suddenly
saw a boat shoot round the bend. Much astonished--for he knew it could
be no one from the house--he threw down his rod and watched. Nearer and
nearer it came, but not a sound; the oars stirred and splashed the
rippling, foaming water in absolute silence. Convinced now that what he
beheld was nothing physical, my friend was greatly frightened, and, as
the boat shot past him, he perceived in the rower his host's youngest
son, who was then fighting in South Africa. He did not mention the
incident to his friends, but he was scarcely surprised when, in the
course of the next few days, a cablegram was received with the tidings
that the material counterpart of his vision had been killed in action.
A white dove is the harbinger of death to the Arundels of Wardour; a
white hare to an equally well-known family in Cornwall. Corby Castle in
Cumberland has its "Radiant Boy"; whilst Mrs E. M. Ward has stated, in
her reminiscences, that a certain room at Knebworth was once haunted by
the phantasm of a boy with long yellow hair, called "The Yellow Boy,"
who never appeared to anyone in it, unless they were to die a violent
death, the manner of which death he indicated by a series of ghastly
pantomimics.
Other families, I am told, lay claim to phantom coaches, clocks, beds,
ladies in white, and a variety of ghostly phenomena whose manifestations
are always a sinister omen.
_Welsh Ghosts_
In addition to corpse-candles and blue lights, the Welsh, according to
Mr Wirt Sykes, in his work, _British Goblins_, pp. 212-216, possess a
species of ill-omened ghost that is not, however, restricted to any one
family, but which visits promiscuously any house or village prior to a
death. Sometimes it flaps its leathern wings against the window of the
room containing the sick person, and in a broken, howling tone calls
upon the latter to give up his life; whilst, at other times, according
to Mr Dyer in his _Ghost World_, it actually materialises and appears in
the form of an old crone with streaming hair and a coat of blue, when it
is called the "Ellyllon," and, like the banshee, presages death with a
scream.
Again, when it is called the "Cyhyraeth," and is never seen, it
foretells the death of the insane, or those who have for a long time
been ill, by moaning, groaning, and rattling shutters in the immediate
vicinity of the doomed person.