Chapter I: WELL remember when I was a schoolgirl, my father taking an old farm (3)

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.

A MAN WITH AN AXE