ABOUT twenty-five years ago Mr. and Mrs. D. took up their residence
in a house in a small Oxfordshire village. Previous to their arrival
Mrs. D. had not seen the house nor had she heard anything to suggest
that the house was haunted.
On the evening of their arrival Mr. D. went to the village whilst
Mrs. D. arranged small articles of furniture. It was twilight but she
could see distinctly and, entering the house by the back door, was
astonished to notice a woman standing in the kitchen. She, naturally,
uttered an exclamation of surprise, and the figure faded away. An
examination of all rooms, which she immediately undertook, showed
that no person was concealed in them. Mrs. D. had no feelings of
fear, but the personal appearance and costume of the figure impressed
her vividly and became fixed in her memory. The figure was that of a
tall woman, dressed entirely in brown. She had grey hair and a rather
thin face on which melancholy was expressed.
Later, the D's learned it was rumoured that their new residence was
haunted, one villager assuring them he would not care to live there.
Mrs. D. gained some significant information regarding a married
couple who had occupied the house previous to the tenants whom the
D's succeeded. The wife had died there, having been badly treated,
according to all accounts, by the husband. Mrs. D. asked for a
description of the dead woman. This tallied with the apparition which
she had seen! The apparition did not appear again, but Mrs. D. said
she often felt the presence of another woman in the house when alone.
One day, years later, liking such exercise, Mrs. D. sawed up an elm
bough, lopped from an overhanging tree. Succeeding sections showed a
pattern; in the annular rings there was discernible the figure of the
woman in brown. This was corroborated by others.
The question arises, ‘Did the thoughts of the woman in brown
continue, after bodily death, to inhabit the spot where she had been
so unhappy, impressing themselves, not only on another's mind but on
the internal structure of the tree near by?’
“IS THAT YOU, TOM?”
Many years ago, I, accompanied by my infant son, went to spend a few
days at my brother's home—a lonely farm on the Derbyshire moors.
My brother was away when I arrived, and was not expected back until
next day. During the night, I was awakened by the feeling that someone
was leaning over me as I lay in bed. Looking up, I saw a dark shadowy
form and, thinking that my brother had returned sooner than expected,
and had come in to see me, I put out my hand saying, “Is that you,
Tom?” There was no answer, and the shadow faded. I sat up in bed,
wondering if it was my imagination, then, taking a look at my
sleeping son, I composed myself for sleep again.
Next morning, I asked my sister-in-law if my brother had returned.
Receiving a negative reply, I related the incident of the night. My
sister-in-law said, “Oh, Anne! have you seen it also?” Then she told
me that whenever my brother was away for the night she always prayed
that she might sleep soundly and not be disturbed by the shadow that
she had so often seen leaning over her bed—sometimes at the foot and
sometimes at the side of the bed. Shortly after my visit, my brother
was visited by relatives of his wife from Southport—people whom I did
not know—and, one morning, they burst into the kitchen asking if the
house was haunted and declaring that a big dark shadow had been in
their room during the night. They made quite a joke of it.
Now, as I am a very sceptical person, in spite of my own experience,
I asked my cousin, from whom my brother rented the house, and who had
lived there, if he had seen anything. He did not want to say he had,
but, when pressed, admitted that both he and his mother and father
knew about the manifestations. He told me that one night, sitting up
to attend to a sick cow, he had locked the kitchen door and was
sitting by the fire, when, suddenly, the door was flung open and a
tall man walked into the kitchen, passed through the sitting-room,
and clanked upstairs. (The farmhouse has only one doorway which opens
directly into the kitchen.) My uncle, who was in bed, called out, “Is
that you, Walter?” But it wasn't Walter; he was still sitting by the
fire spellbound and gazing at the still locked door. There was no one
upstairs but the family in bed. I afterwards asked my aunt what she
made of it. She was a deeply religious woman, and, without
hesitation, she simply said, “Aye, Anne, I’ve seen it many a time, but
I don't mind, it's harmless enough.”
I often wonder, can we all have imagined it? I knew nothing about it
till I went there—nor did the Southport visitors; and my relatives
were very averse to talking about the visitations.
“OUR GHOST”
GHOSTS! Of course there are ghosts, and we should feel lost if our
ghost did not walk about at times. We have lived in this house for
eighteen years and it was a bit uncanny at first to hear footsteps
come down the stairs, then see the handle of the door turn. We would
look up expecting to see someone, and so we christened the occurrence
as “Our Ghost.” Still, I must say there is something in the house. Our
dog will be asleep on the rug, and, all at once, will get up and stare
at the door for some time and then whine. There are times when the cat
fights shy of the passage. It is only a few months ago that we heard
someone (or something) at midnight move about downstairs and then we
heard the front door bang. We went down to investigate and then
remembered “Our Ghost.” This is after a life of eighteen years in the
same house. Of course, there are ghosts.