SOME years ago a friend of ours bought a house which was spoken of
for miles around as “haunted”; one family after another had at
various times lived at the place, but each of them, in turn, abruptly
gave up the tenancy, declaring the house was indeed haunted. All
round the house was a wide drive, and the story ran that every
midnight at certain periods of the year a horse was heard to gallop
round the drive, and, at times, reared itself so high as to touch the
bedroom windows.
Though the horse itself was not visible, it was known to be a white
one, and sometimes sent out flashing lights.
As soon as our friend was settled in the place, he invited my husband
and I to go and stay with him. We readily accepted, just laughing at
the ghost story, and, up to the moment of going to bed, we joked
about the whole thing. We had been in bed only a short time when we
heard the regular gallop, gallop, of a horse going round the drive.
It was too real to make any mistake, and we both seemed to freeze
with fear and, for a few minutes, were unable to speak. When my
husband had gained a little self-control, he struck a light, and we
saw the fingers of his watch pointed to a few minutes after midnight.
The galloping had now ceased, but there was no sleep for us. As we
lay awake, each resolving inwardly that, so soon as morning came, we
would with all speed make for our own home, another terrifying thing
happened. It was as though someone had given the shutter of our
bedroom window a heavy blow. Being, by this time, quite unnerved, I
gave a low moan of despair, but my husband made one big leap for the
window, and through the light that was just breaking, he saw the
outline of a huge bat, just flying away from the shutter. Evidently
it had hit the shutter in its flight, and had caused the rattle which
had so upset us. So that was one ghost accounted for! But that did not
explain away the gallop of the horse, as by this time we neither of
us had any doubts regarding its presence in the grounds.
As the house was walled in on all sides it was obvious no stray
animal could have entered, and we felt, as morning drew near, we
should have no option but to join in the general belief that there
really was something uncanny about the place.
As we sat down to breakfast the following morning our host greeted us
with—“Well, did you see or hear the ghost?” He laughed merrily as we
replied, “We did, and have had no sleep, and there are two people
here who are clearing out as soon as possible—without breakfast for
preference.”
He then said, “Well it may interest you to know I have laid the ghost
horse, but thought I’d let you have one night before I explained.” He
said, “The first night my wife and I slept here we heard the gallop,
gallop, quite clearly, just at the time we had been told we should
hear it. My wife became angry as well as frightened and laid the
blame on me, saying, ‘Why did you buy such a place—you might have
known all the people who have tried to live here could not have been
mistaken. I shall not stay in the house another day, and if your
money is lost, it's lost.’
“She left the house the next morning. I determined I would fathom the
matter, for, truth to tell, my own confidence had been somewhat
shaken. So, the next night, instead of going to bed, I decided I
would walk out into the country, returning at the time the phantom
horse was supposed to appear. I walked about half a mile and came to
the turnpike road where I saw and spoke to a policeman. Whilst I was
talking to him a high dog cart passed us, carrying two brightly
burning lamps. I made some remark to the policeman about the driver’s
lonely drive, when he said, ‘Yes, Lord ——— is in residence at ———
Hall, and he sends his groom to town every night with his letters, in
time to catch the midnight mail; he always returns about this time. I
know exactly when he is returning, even if I am by that house on the
hill there (my house), nearly a mile away.’ ‘Why, how is that?’ I
queried. ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘the echo of his horse galloping is so
clear in the still of the night, and, as he passes certain gaps in
the hedges, his lights shine more clearly than any other lights that
pass this way.’ I then told him why I was out at that time of night
and asked him if ever he had heard the story connected with my house,
to which he answered, ‘No; I have been in this part of the country
only a few months, and it is only within the past month that I have
noticed the echo.’
Well, the next night we tested his explanation together, and that was
how we laid the ‘ghost horse of the Derbyshire Moors.’”