MY grandparents, with their two sons, lived at a lone farm about a
mile from the village. In my early days I spent much of my time with
them, and often heard them speak about the visitations of “the
ghost.” They quite believed the place was haunted, and, taking into
account my own experiences, I was led to believe the same.
It was no uncommon thing, as we were sitting round the fire in the
evening, to hear three distinct knocks at the top of the chimney,
which would gradually descend to the back of the fireplace. So used
were they to these rappings that they would be dismissed with just a
passing reference.
On moonlight nights my uncles would often go out to shoot rabbits. On
one occasion, when they came back, they said they had seen a man
sitting on the branch of a tree. They challenged him to come down,
thinking he was a poacher in hiding, but, as they were looking at
him, he suddenly disappeared.
On another occasion, one night, when the snow was on the ground, one
of my uncles came in from the village, and said there was a man
sitting astride the wheat stack at the back of the house. My
grandfather took his gun and went up to the back bedroom window, and,
looking out, sure enough there sat the human form. My grandfather
shouted: “If you don’t come down, I'll shoot you.” But before he had
time to raise his gun, the figure vanished. Next morning they got a
ladder and examined the roof of the rick to see if they could find
any footprints, or if the snow had been disturbed, but not a trace
could be found!
Sometimes the ghost would appear in different shapes and forms. In
the winter the cattle were kept up in the yard and cow-sheds. My
grandfather’s brother, who lived in the village, used to come up
early to feed them. One morning, when he had finished his work, he
came in and said: “The thing was in the manger again.” The “thing”
referred to was a white calf, which he had seen more than once in the
same position, but it always disappeared when he went up to it.
My mother often referred to her experiences with the ghost when a
girl at home. It would come when she and her sisters were playing
around the ricks. It took the shape of a round log, covered with long
black hair, full of bright spots. After rolling about for some time,
it always finished up by going into the pond at the end of the barn.
On one occasion a girl with long black hair joined them at play. At
first they thought it was a girl from the village, but when they
gathered round her, she vanished.
It was in this rick yard that my cousin and I had a hair-raising
experience. One evening as it was getting dusk, we were romping in a
heap of straw; then we sat down and covered ourselves up to the neck.
Sitting there, we heard a panting noise, like a horse trying to get
its breath after a race. Looking up we were horror-struck to see a
huge animal like a lion, with long, shaggy hair, coming towards us.
We sat breathless. It then passed over our legs and disappeared
through the bushes into the pond. Terrified, we ran into the house and
told what had happened.
I had another experience later on, early one morning on the road
leading up to the farm. Just before me I saw a white calf’s head
projecting from the corner of a heap of stones. It was motionless, so
I went to see what was the matter with it, but as I came up to it, it
vanished and appeared at another corner! I then thought of the white
calf in the manger, and started to run. On another occasion my
brother and I were driving along this same road one dark night. As we
got to a very narrow part of the road we saw before us two large
lights. Thinking it was a carriage with lamps we wondered how we
should pass. I pulled in to the left and waited. We could hear
nothing. As the lights drew nearer they seemed to grow larger. At
last we saw the outline of some monster beast, and these lights were
its eyes. I could have touched it as it passed. Neither of us spoke a
word till we got to the village. The horse did not seem to have seen
it.
In the course of time my grandfather gave up the farm and came to
live in the village, but, strange to say, the family ghost followed
him! Many weird and uncanny things happened about the house, some of
which I could speak of from personal experience.
My grandparents have long since passed away, since when nothing more
has been heard of the family ghost.
Whose Eyes?
“I SHAN'T be a minute; I’m going to fetch a book from my bedroom.”
So saying, I got up and smiled across the table at Mr. P., the
gentleman boarder. “Let me go,” he said. “Certainly not,” I answered,
and lightly ran out of the room and up the inky black stairs. There
was the awful soundlessness and stillness of impenetrable darkness,
and I had to slacken my steps to feel for each stair. When I was
about half way up someone pushed against me from behind and tried to
tread on the same stair as myself. I gasped and instantly thought it
was a practical joke that Mr. P. was playing on me, and I said
fiercely: “Go away, Mr. P.! You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
frightening me like that.” As he didn’t answer me, I turned round to
push him away, and found Emptiness. The horror of this was so great
that, regardless of the danger of missing the stairs, I literally
flew up the remainder and opened my door and rushed inside.
As I was in the act of banging the door a pair of eyes gazed at me
out of the darkness. Oh! it was awful!—Eyes without a body, gazing at
me. I flung myself against the door to shut them out, at the same
time covering my eyes with my hands.
My bedroom was pitch dark. Outside, I knew I had to face unknown
terror—what was I to do? Not a sound to be heard, and the only living
people in that house were at the bottom of all those stairs.
If I moved from the door those eyes might come in; if I remained
where I was, what unseen thing might touch me? At last I remembered a
bit of candle and matches that were in a certain drawer. Could I find
the chest of drawers? At least it was worth trying.
How I got across that room I don’t know, but I did, and I found that
bit of candle and matches and lit up, and I gazed all round that room.
I saw my face in the glass—it appalled me, for my eyes were fairly
bulging out of my white face.
With the comfort of the lighted candle I got downstairs. The
landlady, Mr. P., and my sister all remarked upon my appearance and
asked why I had been so long. When I told them they were very
excited, and all went with lamps to hunt for the ghost. To them it
was a most exciting event; to me it was a nightmare.
Of course, they found nothing.
Some weeks later, when the ghost was forgotten, my sister and I were
sitting in a room on the first floor, the door of which opened
straight off a tiny landing of the staircase. My sister was playing
the piano, and I was sitting by the fire sewing.
Looking towards her, I noticed the door opening ever so slowly and
silently until it was wide open—and no one was there. Thinking,
sensibly, it must be the draught, I got up to close the door and,
there, in the doorway, on a level with my own, were the pair of eyes,
luminous.
I stood stock still and said to my sister: “Look at the door!” To do
so, she had to look up and over the piano, and by so doing she looked
straight at those eyes. She rushed to my side shrieking. Up the
stairs pelted Mr. P., with the landlady following, shouting up,
“What's the matter?”
He walked right under those eyes, and, brushing back his hair with
his hand, he said: “Great Scott! Aren't you cold up here? Did one of
you shriek or call out?”