Part 8

The homeward road (Cool Oak-lane), after crossing the Welsh Harp, wound up a hill between tall dark trees and silent ponds, and past the blank wall of the grounds surrounding a large house.

Although only five miles from the Marble Arch, it was very lonely: being cut off from London by the Harp, a sheet of water a mile long.

The people of Neasden believed that the road was haunted. I remember the boys speaking of actually seeing a tall white ghost. This story may have been originated in the contrast between the brilliantly illuminated fair and the dark country road. Of course, the fair was not always on, so there was some other reason for the superstition. Anyhow, the neighbourhood is unchanged, and the children of to-day keep away from the place at nights.

CHESHIRE

SOME years ago, I, with my wife and family, lived in a house which was undoubtedly haunted. One day, my wife was in the hall with the baby in her arms when, suddenly, a figure in white appeared, and she had to draw to one side to allow it to pass her. She saw the same apparition on several occasions and, later, a nurse, who we had in the house during my wife's illness, also saw it at different times. One day she was in the bathroom when the figure appeared, walked through the room, opened the door, and passed out. On another occasion she was having breakfast in the nursery adjoining the bedroom when she saw a figure in white standing in the doorway. She thought it was my wife who had got out of bed against instructions, and she immediately went into the room next door to “blow up” the patient, and found she had never left her bed. Ultimately, I myself saw it one evening when in the bedroom (the door of which was open) brushing my hair before the mirror, I suddenly became conscious of something unusual and saw a figure mount the stairs, pause at the top and then proceed on its way upwards.

Subsequently, we were very much disturbed by loud hammerings which always commenced immediately we went to bed at night, continued the whole night through, but finished always immediately the servant got up in the morning. These noises became so violent that we finally had to give up the house. On making inquiries, I found that in the vicinity of the spot where the house was situated, a young woman, whose husband was a captain and had lost his life at sea, had lived and had drowned herself in a pit not very far away, some years previously.

KENT

SOME years ago, I went home to stay with my parents for holiday. They had recently moved into an old mansion which had been converted into a double dwelling-house, both parties using the same staircase and hall. During my stay, my mother and father took the opportunity to go away for a week end, leaving me to get meals for a friend who lived with them, and whose duties as a postal servant often brought him home in the early hours of the morning. My mother feared, as I was young, I might not rise in time to get his breakfast. I gave my promise I would do it, but did not mention how. Accordingly, I sat up all night busy with fancy work until it was time for me to get ready a nice hot breakfast. I felt sure if I went to bed at my usual hour I should not waken. When all was ready—about 2 a.m.— I went into the hall to listen for any sound of the friend coming. The door of the room I was in faced the staircase which was very wide, and, right in front of me, about half way down the staircase, stood a tall gentleman clad in brown velvet jacket, cord breeches, leggings and huntsman's cap. Thinking it might be a friend of the people in the other half of the house, I went in and closed the door, wondering why he was roaming about the house at that hour. When the friend arrived for breakfast, I told him what I had seen. He laughed heartily and then said: “So you have seen him?” I asked where the joke came in, and he calmly told me he saw the same gentleman repeatedly—he haunted the house. Needless to say, I did not spend another night in sitting up.

When mother returned and I told her my experience, she was ever so sorry she had left me; she did not dream I would stay up. She then told me that night after night she and father were kept awake with music and dancing somewhere close to their bedroom, and they could find out nothing to account for it. Some time after, the place was pulled down and a large jar of golden coins was found embedded in one of the walls of the bedroom in which my parents slept. This may sound to some people like a fairy tale, but it is perfectly true, and, whenever I think of the place, I can see that gentleman who, they told me, always vanished as soon as you had seen him.

SEAFORD

WE were living, in 1912, in a quiet Midland town, and the household comprised my husband, small son, maid and myself. The son was recovering from an attack of croup, and my husband and I took it in turns to sleep with him in the large bedroom. As the doctor gave a good report of the invalid, I was looking forward to a good night's rest in the smaller room. When bedtime came, I opened the window and door, and, after a short time, was fast asleep. I do not know how long it was before I became wide awake, feeling that something evil was hovering around me. There was nothing to be seen, but a bad influence or presence made itself felt, and I was simply terrified. I was in a cold sweat of fear, afraid to move lest something should happen to me. What that something was, I did not know then, neither do I know now.

My husband slept in the room on the next night, and he said he was troubled by bad nightmare dreams—but would say nothing more.

When the doctor called, he advised that our son should go into the smaller room in the daytime for a change, so we soon had him comfortably settled there in bed. But he wanted amusement, like most boys do when they are well enough, so we fetched the kitten upstairs and placed it on the bed, for they were very fond of each other.

Alas! before we could ask ourselves what was the matter, the kitten seemed to turn pale, and, tucking his tail between his legs, he absolutely bolted off the bed and rushed headlong downstairs. Of course, we joked about it to our son, and called to the maid to carry the kitten and a saucer of milk upstairs again. Again we tried to tempt the kitten to remain on the bed, but it was impossible. Again it rushed downstairs as if terrified.

What was to be done? I determined to sleep there at night, as we arranged and, again, I was awakened by the knowledge that some evil was present in the room around me. I was still terrified and unable to move, but was able to pray to God to save me, body, soul and spirit, and, after about ten minutes’ silent prayer, the influence or presence, or whatever it was, went, and the air in the room became light and fresh and buoyant as it used to be. The next day the kitten remained upstairs and was a joy to the invalid.

Can these experiences be accounted for? I wonder! I was afterwards told that a crime of continual cruelty had occurred in that room a few years before. If so, why did the evil influence revisit the room, and not the perpetrators of the cruelty?

This is a true account of what actually happened in a pretty little house near ———, in Warwickshire.

CAMBRIDGE

A FEW years ago, when I was studying for my degree in a university college, my friends and I had a strange experience. The women's hostel in which we lived, had formerly been a gentleman's house, and it was rumoured that at times this country squire, who was now dead, used to revisit his old home. Most of us laughed at this as a “ghost tale,” but the following incident made even the most sceptical wonder.

One night, my friend and I, who shared a room, went to bed as usual. After putting out the light, we pulled up the blind. This was a regular habit of ours, so that we should wake up easily in the morning. About 2 a.m. I awoke, and found, to my astonishment, the electric light switched on, and the blind down. I awakened my friend, and asked her if she was responsible, but she had been asleep the whole time. Neither of us had ever walked in our sleep, so, feeling that something uncanny had happened, we got up to investigate. Listening intently, we heard weird noises on the floor below, a sort of rattling and scraping. This continued for some time, and then gradually grew fainter and died away. Feeling very nervous, we sat waiting for the sounds to return, but nothing more happened, and we were glad when morning came.

At breakfast, we reported the night’s happenings. When we had finished, a “fresher” spoke up—one who knew nothing of the hostel legend. She said that during the night, a gentleman had stood by her bed and smiled kindly at her. We eagerly questioned her, and she was able to tell us exactly what he was wearing. When she had finished, our Warden exclaimed: “Why, that was old Mr. C., the late owner of this house; the last time I saw him he was dressed like that!”

Was the same old gentleman responsible for turning on our light, and for the other strange happenings of that night?

READING

WHILST living at a “school house” in a lonely country district, where my father was a schoolmaster, I was startled one day, when sitting in my bedroom reading, by someone walking upstairs as though with a stick. I rushed out and, on finding no one, I ran downstairs to ascertain whether the rest of the family had heard the same noise. Everyone paid “No!”

A few months afterwards, my mother happened to be ill, and a maid, who had lived in the same house when it was occupied by a former schoolmaster, came to live with us. One afternoon, while the rest of us were out, mother asked this maid to sit upstairs with her, and, strange though it may seem, they were both startled by the same noise as I had heard months before—someone walking upstairs with a stick. “Oh, it’s quite all right,” said the maid, “that's only Miss S., who died here a few years ago; she was troubled with fits and always walked with a stick.”

Funnily enough, this girl said that Miss S. used to place the stick on the landing on top of the stairs before walking to her bedroom, which she did (if it really was her “ghost”) on those two occasions.

SUTTON SCOTNEY

MY father made the acquaintance of a retired colonel, who lived six miles from our home. Sometimes father went over to tea with him. On one occasion father saw a short thick man pass through the drawing-room without opening the door. He felt so uncomfortable, that the colonel asked him what was the matter. Father explained. “Oh,” said the colonel, “that was only our little pedlar. The legend is that a pedlar was seen to come to this house, but he never left it. His pedlary is said to be put behind that fireplace.”

“Why don't you have it opened?” asked my father. “No fear, I don't want to, the pedlar doesn't worry me.”

COLEFORD

SOME years ago, I was sitting alone in the sitting-room one Sunday night, after the rest of the family had retired, and I was reading the case of little “Teddy Slingsby.” The banging of a door which opened out of the kitchen to the scullery aroused me to investigate, and to secure it for the night, as always was done, with a bolt. When I reached the centre of the kitchen I could see that the door was wide open and, it being a nice moonlight night, I could see the trees in the garden and the ivy hanging on the old wall. I stepped up to the door, putting out my hand to close it and, to my horror, I found that the door was then closed and bolted securely, and my view of the moonlit garden was at once cut out.

I turned for the staircase and, upon arriving at the top, I entered my mother's room, too scared and speechless to tell her what I had seen. I placed my back against the wall for support, and slid down, sitting on the floor. When I had recovered, I explained to mother what I had seen. She advised me to get to bed at once, which I did. I had not buried myself in bed very long before I heard a rustling, as that of paper, and, looking up, I saw a figure all in white standing with hand to its head, and elbow against my bedroom door. I could not utter a word, and I watched the figure completely disappear.

This I told the remainder of the family next morning, and my mother could then say that she had seen the same thing herself. Also I heard from the people who had lived in the house previously, that members of that family had seen the same apparition.

IPSWICH

EIGHT years ago my friend, a dark-haired girl, and I took a job as servants, at a large mansion near here. To my surprise, I was given a most beautiful and luxuriantly-appointed bedroom in the front of the house, my friend sleeping in the servants quarters.

About a week later, I was wakened at two o'clock in the morning by my bedroom door opening, and a dark-haired woman approached the bed. Thinking it was my friend, who wanted something, I sat up and asked: “What do you want, Olive?” The figure turned towards the dressing-table and disappeared. I ran along to my friend's room. She was sleeping, and I spent the night with her. The next morning, the housekeeper informed me that there had been similar complaints from guests and the room had been closed for years, but they had wondered if it would be all right after the lapse. Needless to add, I refused to sleep in the room again.

HULL

SOME years ago, I worked in a drug warehouse with a labourer, Mr. T. (since dead), who had a supernatural experience. He and his wife and family moved into a house which had been empty a long time. The removal took place after he left his day's work, and the beds were hastily improvised for the night. He and his wife were awakened by a crash, which sounded just over the bed head. Both simultaneously asked: “Did you hear that noise?” Mr. T. arose next morning to go downstairs to make the fire, and, from the top of the stairs, saw the figure of a woman sitting on the bottom step nursing a child. The apparition faded away as he reached the bottom. He dared not mention it to his wife, but he found another residence, and left the house the same week. Subsequent inquiries revealed the fact that there had been a murder committed in the house.

READING

DURING the war I went to live for a time with some relatives in the suburbs of a large city in the Midlands. One Sunday night, as I lay awake longing for sleep which would not come, I was startled by a strange noise close beside my bed, like the deep, heavy breathing of a very large dog, but much louder than anything of the kind I had ever heard before. Then I felt the weight of a very heavy hand or paw across my right foot. The moments seemed like hours and I became paralysed with terror and unable to move or make a sound. I think, eventually, I became unconscious. In the morning I told a member of the family of my horrible experience and asked her not to mention it, as I did not wish to frighten the young people in the house.

After I had been away some months, I received a letter from the relative to whom I had told this, saying that her sister had been frightened by the same noise in this bedroom, and her husband had declared there was someone in the room. They got up and searched the room but found nothing.

Can anyone give a solution of these strange noises? I should be glad to have it explained. Do I believe in ghosts? No! Not until I see one, which I have no desire to do.

COWES

SOME years ago, some cousins of mine, who lived in an old house at Reading, frequently saw a little old lady who used to come and sit in one of the bedrooms at night. They were so used to seeing her that they lost their fear. Later, the house was pulled down, and a box containing a skeleton was discovered. They made inquiries and found that, years before they lived there, a murder had been committed. An old uncle of mine, who was a missionary, and who sometimes paid my cousins a visit, always saw the old lady when he slept there.

MARKYATE

MY husband was a man who would laugh if you talked of ghosts, saying he didn't believe there were such things. However, he had to go away to work five years ago, and he and a mate got lodgings with an old lady whose mother, at the age of ninety, died not long before. The first night his mate had plenty to drink so slept soundly. My husband, however, being in a strange place, couldn't sleep. During the night the clothes were lifted off his feet and strange knockings went around the bed. He lit the candle, but found nothing. In the morning he told his mate, and the next night his mate woke him and said: “Hill, light the candle; this place is haunted!” They couldn't sleep for the tugging at the clothes and the knocking around the bed. They told their experience to a man from the village who was working with them, and he said the old lady was supposed to have left money in the bed. They stayed on for the week, and each night the same thing occurred. On the Saturday morning they stripped the bed and made a thorough search, but found nothing. When my husband returned home he looked like a man who had had a severe illness. He told us the story; now he believes in ghosts.

BOSCOMBE

IN the wartime I spent a holiday in a Dorset village, and the first night, whilst sleeping in a bedroom in a lonely cottage, I was awakened by the door noiselessly opening, and the figure of a man dressed in white garments passing through the room and talking softly to himself. There was only a woman in the cottage and she was fast asleep.

A year after, I read in some old memoirs of two of Nelson's lieutenants who, whilst ashore at Weymouth, met two women and accompanied them home. During supper they quarrelled, and one woman threw a flat-iron at Lieutenant ——— and killed him. His companion was horrified and, urging the women to be silent, he took the body on his horse to a lonely spot in Dorset, and buried it and rejoined his ship.

The spot where the lieutenant was buried was the spot on which stands the cottage in which I had this strange experience.

CROYDON

SOME years ago, whilst spending a night in an old inn, I was awakened by the disagreeable impression that I was not alone. To my amazement, at the foot of my bed (an old-fashioned four-poster), stood a girl, with a baby in her outstretched arms. Her eyes were fixed imploringly on mine, as though begging for help or protection. I noticed that she had a mob cap on her head, and a quaint wrapper of some fashion unknown to me.

I begged her to tell me what I could do for her, but she made no reply, and, a moment later, she had disappeared.

I rose at once and searched the room. Door and windows were securely fastened, and I could find no trace of my mysterious visitor. Convinced at last that I had been dreaming, I returned to bed. Presently, the woman with her baby reappeared, this time at the side of the bed! She spoke no word, but, with the same expression of anguish, gazed imploringly at me. Then she vanished. When for the third time, I became aware of her presence beside my pillow, I was seized with terror and called loudly for help. Then I must have fainted for, when I came to myself, it was broad daylight. When questioned, my hostess could give me no explanation. She admitted, however, that she had heard my cries, but that neither she nor her servants dared enter the chamber after nightfall. The room was supposed to be haunted, and other visitors had seen the woman and her baby as described by me. The inn has since been pulled down and a hostel erected in its place.

LEVERSHULME

MY father became tenant of the Manor House in a village in the Midlands and moved in with mother and six children, five girls (including me) and one boy. I was then twelve years old. Many were the warnings kindly given to us by the villagers that the house was haunted, but, being a merry family, and father and brother keen on shooting, they laughingly warned off any intruders from outside. We younger were not so dubious. The rooms were large and opened off long passages and had an eerie effect, especially at night.