Part 17

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.