August 21, 2025 • 54 mins
Dive into a captivating collection of ghostly tales where the spirits come not from the human realm, but from our beloved animal companions. Each chapter reveals spine-tingling stories of hauntings featuring dogs, cats, birds, jungle creatures, and more. Join Allyson Hester as she guides you through these eerie encounters that blend the supernatural with the animal kingdom.
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Chapters four and five of Animal Ghosts. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
This reading by Alison Hester of Athens, Georgia. Animal Ghosts
by Elliott O'Donnell, Chapter four, bulls, cows, pigs, et cetera.
(00:27):
From the Hebrides, there comes to me a case of
the phanfasm of a black bull that, on certain nights
in the year is heard bellowing inside the shed where
it was killed. There are many accounts of ghostly cows
heard mooing in the moors and boglins of Scotland and Ireland, respectively,
and not a few cases of whole herds of phantom
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cattle scene gliding along one behind the other with silent,
noiseless tread. Though I have never had the opportunity of
experimenting with cats to see if they are sensitive to
the superphysical, I see no reason why they should not be,
and I feel quite certain they will participate in the
future life a propos of pigs. Mister Dyer in his
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Ghost World says another form of specter animal is the
kirk grim which is believed to haunt many churches. Sometimes
it is a pig, sometimes a horse, the haunting specter
being the spirit of an animal buried alive in the
churchyard for the purpose of scaring away the sacrilegious. Mister
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Dyer goes on to say that it was the custom
of the old Christian churches to bury a lamb under
the altar, and that if anyone entered a church out
of service time and happened to see a little lamb
spring across the choir and vanish, it was a sure
prognostication of the death of some child, and if this
apparition was seen by the grave digger, the death would
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take place immediately. Mister Dyer also tells us that the
Danish kirk grim was thought to hide itself in the
tower of a church in preference to any other place,
and that it was thought to protect the sacred buildings.
According to the same writer, in the streets of Krosterberg,
a grave sow, or as it was called, a gray sow,
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was frequently seen, and it was said to be the
apparition of a sow formerly buried alive, its appearance foretelling
death or calamity. Phantasm of a goat. Missus Crowe, in
her Night Side of Nature, relates one case of a
house near Philadelphia, USA that was haunted by a variety
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of phenomena, among others, that of a specter resembling a goat.
Other extraordinary things happened in the house, she writes, which
had the reputation of being haunted, although the sun had
not believed it, and had thereupon not mentioned the report
to the father. One day the children's they had been
running after such a queer thing in the cellar. It
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was like a goat, and not like a goat, but
it seemed to be like a shadow. This explanation does
not appear to be very satisfactory. But as I have
heard of one or two other cases of premises being
haunted by what undoubtedly were the phanfasms of goats, I
think it highly probable it was the ghost of a
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goat in this instance too, the phantom pigs of Chiltern Hills.
A good many years ago there was a story current
of an extraordinary haunting by a herd of pigs. The
chief authority on the subject was a farmer who was
an eye witness of the phenomena. I will call him
mister B. Mister B, as a boy, lived in a
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small house called the Moat Grange, which was situated in
a very lonely spot near four crossroads connecting four towns.
The house deriving its name from the fact that a
moat surrounded it, stood near the meeting point of the
four roads, which was the sight of a gibbet, the
bodies of the criminals being buried in the moat well.
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The bees had not been living long on the farm
before they were awakened one night by hearing the most
dreadful noises, partly human and partly animal, seemingly proceeding from
a neighboring spinny, and on going to a long front
window overlooking the cross roads, they saw a number of
spotted creatures like pigs, screaming, fighting and tearing up the
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soil on the site of the criminal's cemetery. The sight
was so unexpected and alarming that the bees were appalled,
and mister B was about to strike a light on
the tinder box when the most diabolical white face was
pressed against the outside of the window pane and stared
in at them. This was the climax. The children shrieked
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with terror and missus b falling on her knees, began
to pray, whereupon the face of the window vanished, and
the herd of pigs, ceasing their disturbance, tore frantically down
one of the high roads and disappeared from view. Similar
phenomena were seen and heard so frequently afterwards that the
bees eventually had to leave the farm, and subsequent inquiries
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led to their learning that the place had long borne
the reputation of being haunted, the ghosts being supposed to
be the earth bound spirits of the executed criminals. Whether
this was so or not must of course be a
matter of conjecture. The herds of hogs may well have
been the phantasms of actual earth bound pigs, attracted to
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the spot by a sort of fellow feeling for the criminals,
whose gross and carnal natures would no doubt appeal to them.
A lane in Hertfordshire was and perhaps still is, haunted
by the phantasm of a big white sow which had
accidentally been run over and killed. It was a casely
heard grunting, and had the unpleasant knack of approaching one
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noiselessly from the rear, and of making the most unearthly
noise just behind one's back. Sheep, lambs, and sheep, possessing
finer natures than goats and pigs, would appear to be
less earth bound, and in all probability only temporarily haunt
the spots that witnessed their usually barbarous ends. Most slaughter
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horses are haunted by them, as indeed by many other animals.
A Scottish moor long bore the reputation for being haunted
by a phantom flock of sheep, which were always heard
baying plaintivelly before a big storm. It was supposed they
were the ghosts of a flock that had perished in
the memorable severe weather of Christmas eighteen eighty. Here is
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a case that may be regarded as typical of hauntings
by sheep, presumably the earth bound spirits of the sheep
overwhelmed in some great storm or unexpected catastrophe. The specter
flock of sheep in Germany during the Seven Years War
in Germany, writes Missus Crowe in her Night Side of Nature,
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a drover lost his life in a drunken squabble on
the high road. For some time there was a sort
of rude tombstone with a cross on it to mark
the spot where his body was interred, but this has
long fallen, and a milestone now fills its place. Nevertheless,
it continues to be commonly asserted by the country people,
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and also by various travelers, that they may have been
deluded on that spot by seeing as they imagine, herds
of beasts, which on investigation proved to be merely visionary.
Of course, many people look upon this as a superstition,
but a very regular confirmation of the story occurred in
the year of eighteen twenty six, when two gentlemen and
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two ladies were passing the spot in a post carriage.
One of these was a clergyman, and none of them
had ever heard of the phenomenon said to be attached
to the place. They had been discussing the prospects of
the minister, who was on his way to a vicarage
to which he had just been appointed, when they saw
a large flock of sheep, which stretched quite across the road,
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and was accompanied by a shepherd and a long haired
black dog. As to meet cattle on that road was
nothing uncommon, and indeed they had met several droves in
the course of one day. No remark was made at
the moment, till suddenly they looked at each other and said,
what's become of the sheep? Quite perplexed at their sudden disappearance,
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they called to the position to stop, and all got
out in order to mount the little elevation and look around.
But still unable to discover them, they now bethought themselves
of asking the postilion where they were. To their infinite surprise,
they learned that he had not seen them. Upon this
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they bade him quicken his pace, that they might overtake
a carriage that had passed them shortly before and inquire
if that party had seen the sheep, but they had not.
Four years later, a postmaster named Jay was on the
same road driving a carriage in which were a clergyman
and his wife, when he saw a large flock of
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sheep near the same spot. Seeing they were very fine weathers,
and supposing them to have been bought at a sheep
fair that was taking place a few miles off, Jay
drew up his reins and stopped his horses, turning at
the same time to the clergyman to say that he
wanted to inquire the price of the sheep, as he
intended going the next day to the fair himself. Whilst
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the minister was asking him what sheep he meant, Jay
got down and found himself in the midst of the animals,
the size and beauty of which astonished him. They asked
him at an unusual rate whilst he made his way
through them to find the shepherd. When on getting to
the end of the flock, they suddenly disappeared, He then
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first learned that his fellow travelers had not seen them
at all. So writes missus Crow, and I quote the
case in support of my argument that sheep, like horses, cats, dogs,
and all other kinds of animals, possess spirits and consequently
have a future state of existence. I have not yet
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experimented with sheep, goats, or pigs, but I do not
doubt that they are more or less sensitive to the
superphysical influences and possessed the psychic faculty of scenting the unknown,
though not perhaps in so great a degree as any
of the other animals I have enumerated. End of Chapter four,
Part two, Wild Animals and the Unknown. Chapter five, Wild
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Animals and the Unknown Apes. The following case of animal
haltings was recorded in automatic writing. I sank wearily into
my easy chair before the fire, which burned with a
fitful and sullen glow in the tiny grate of my
one room, bare and desolate, as only the room of
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an unsuccessful author can be. My condition was pitiable. For
the past twelve months, I had not earned a scent,
and of my small capital there now remained but two
pounds toward the hound of starvation. From my door, in
the moonlight, I could perceive all the bareness of the apartment.
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Would to God fancy would ride to me on this
moonbeam and give me inspiration. Twas indeed weird this silver
ethereal path connecting the Moon with the Earth, And the
more I gazed along it, the more I wished to
leave my body and escape to the star lighted vaults.
Certainly from a conversation I had once had with a
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member of the New Occult Society, I believed it possible
by concentrating all the mental activities in one channel, so
to overcome the barriers which prevent the soul from visiting
scenes of the ethereal world, as to pass materialized to
the spot upon which the ideas are fixed. But although
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I had a sayed how many times, I do not
like to confess to gain that amount of concentration necessary
for the separation of the soul from the body. Up
to the present, all my attempts had been fruitless. Doubtless
there had been something too minute, even for definition, that
had interrupted my self abstraction, A something that had wrecked
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my venture just when I felt it to be on
the verge of completion. And was it likely that now,
when my ideas were misty and vague, I should be
more successful. I wanted to quit the cruel bonds of
nature and be free, free to roam and ramble. But
where at length, as I gazed into the moonlight, I
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lost all cognizance of the objects around me, and my
eyes became fixed on the mountains of the moon, which
I discovered with a start were no longer specks. I found,
to my amazement, I had left my body and was
careening swiftly through space, infinite space. The range opened up
in front of me, spreading out far and wide, winding
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black and awful, their solemn grandeur lost in that terrible
desolation which makes the moon appear like a hideous nightmare.
I could see with amazing clearness the sides of the mountains.
There were enormous black fissures, some of them hundreds of
feet in width. And the more I gazed, the more
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impressed I grew. With the silence. There was no life.
There were no seas, no lakes, no trees, no grass,
no sighing or moaning of the wind, nothing to remind
me of the earth. I now found, to my terror,
I had actually quitted. Everything around me was black, the sky,
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the mountains, the vast pits, the dried up mouths of
which gaped dismally. With the movements of a man in
a fit, I essayed to hinder the phinis of my
mad plunge. I waved my limbs violently, kicking out and
shrieking in the agonies of fear. I cursed and prayed,
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wept and laughed, alternately, did everything, yet nothing that could
save me from contact with the lone desert, so horribly close.
Nearer and nearer I approached, until at last my feet
rested on the hard, caked soil. For the first few
minutes after my arrival, I was too overwhelmed with fear
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to do other than remain stationary. The ground beneath my
feet swarmed with myriads of foul and long legged insect,
things with unwildy pincers and protruding eyes, things covered with
scaly armor, hybrids of beetles and scorpions. I have a
distinct recollection of one huge jointed centipede making a vicious
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grab at my leg. He failed to make his teeth
meet in anything tangible, and emitting a venomous hiss, disappeared
into a circular pit. Whilst I was the victim of
this insect's ferocity, the horizon had become darkened by the
shadowy outline of an enormous apish form. I wanted to
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run away, but could not, and was compelled sorely against
my will to witness its approach. Never shall I forget
the agonies of doubt I endured during its advance. No
man in a tiger's den, nor deer tied to a
tree awaiting its destroyer, could have suffered more than I
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did then, and my terror increased tenfold when I recognized
the monster Nipon, a young gorilla that had been under
my charge and had given me no end of trouble.
When I was headkeeper in the zoological gardens at Bern,
I never hated anything so much as I hated that
baboon at my hands. It had undergone a thousand subtle torments.
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I had pinched it, poked it, pulled its hair, frightened
it by putting on masks and making all sorts of
queer noises, And finally I had secretly poisoned it. And
now we stood face to face, without any bars between us.
Never shall I forget the look of intense satisfaction in
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its hideous eyes, as its gaze encountered mine. In that strange,
forlorn world we faced each other, I the tyrant, once
now the query. In the wildness of its glee, it
capered about like a mad thing, executing the most exaggerated
antics that augmented my terror. Every second I anticipated an assault,
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and the knowledge of my fears lent additional fierceness to
its gambols. A sudden change in my attitude at length
made it cease. The ews had returned to my limbs,
my muscles were quivering, and before it could stop me,
I had fled the wildest of chases. Then ensued I
ran with a speed that would have shamed a record
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beater on Earth. With extraordinary nimbleness. I vaulted over titanic
boulders of rocks, jumped across dikes of infinite depths, scurried
light lightning over tracks of rough, lacerating ground, and never
for one instant felt like flagging. Suddenly, to my horror,
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I came to an abrupt standstill, and the cry of
some hunted animal burst from my lips. Unwittingly, I had
run against a huge wall of granite, and escape was
now impossible. Again and again, I clawed the hard rock
until the skin hung in shreds from my fingers, and
the blood pattered on the dark soil that, in all
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probability had never tasted moisture before. All this amused my
pursuer vastly. It watched with the leisure of one who
knows its fish will be landed in safety. And there
suddenly came to me, through my old factory nerves, a
knowledge that it was speaking to me in the language
of sense, The language I never understood till now was
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the language of all animals. Reach a little higher, It said,
there are niches up there, and you must stretch your limbs.
Ha ha, Do you remember how you used to make
me stretch mine. You do well, You needn't shiver. Explain
to me how it is I find you here. I
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cannot comprehend. I guess with a gesticulation that was grotesque.
The great beast laughed in my face. How so it queried?
You used to quibble me upon my dull wits? Must
I now returned the compliment, hah, there's blood on your hands.
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Blood I will lick it up. And with a mocking
grin it advanced. Keep off, keep off, I shouted, my god,
Will this dream never cease? The dream, as you call it,
the gorilla jeered, has only just begun. The climax of
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your horrors has yet to come. If you cannot tell
me the purpose of your visits, I will tell you mine.
Can your lordship spare the time to listen? I gave
no answer. I clutched the wall and uttered incoherent cries
like some frightened madman. The gorilla felt the muscles and
its hairy fingers and showed its I looked eagerly at
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my enemy. Come, you haven't guessed my riddle. You are
dull tonight, it said lightly. That old wine of yours
made you sleep too soundly don't let me disturb you.
I will explain. The moon is now my home. I
share it with the spirits of all the animals and
insects that were once on your earth. And now that
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we are free from such as you, free to wander
anywhere we like without fear of being shot or caught
or caged, we are happy. And what makes us still
happier is the knowledge that the majority of men and
women will never have a joyous after state like ours.
They will be earth bound in that miserable world of theirs,
and compelled to keep their old haunts, scaring to death
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with their ugly faces all who have the misfortune to
see them. There is another fate in store for you, however,
do you know what it is? It paused no sound
other than that occasioned by its bumping on the soil,
broke the impressive hush, do you know? It said again, Well,
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I will tell you I am going to kill you
right away, so that your spirit, it's all nonsense to
talk about souls such as you have no soul, will
be earth bound here here forever, and will be a
perpetual source of amusement to all of us animal ghosts.
It then began to jabber ferociously, and crouching down, prepared
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to spring for Heaven's sake. I shrieked for Heaven's sake,
but I might as well have appealed to the wind.
It had no sense of mercy. He he e screamed,
What a joke, What a splendid joke. Your wit never
seems to degenerate. Huh, guessin, I'm wondering if you will
be as funny when you're a ghost. Get ready, I'm coming,
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I'm coming. And as the sky deepened to an awe
inspiring black, and the star grew larger, brighter, fiercer, and
the great lone deserts appealed to me with a force
unequaled before it sprang through the ear a singing in
my ears, and a great bloody mist rose before my eyes.
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The wailing and screeching of a million souls was borne
in loud, protracted echoings through the drum of my ears.
Men and women with evil faces rose up from a
crag and boulder to spit and tear at me. I
saw creatures of such damning ugliness that my soul screamed
aloud with terror, And then from the mountain tops, the
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bolt of heaven was let loose. Every spirit was swept
away like chaff. Before the first of wind, that hurling
and shrieking bore down upon me. I gave myself up
for lost. I felt all the agonies of suffocation. My
lungs were torn from my palpitating body, my legs wrenched
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round in their sockets, my feet whirled upwards in that
gust of devilish air, all excruciating, damning pain and pro temper,
and knew no more n b. It was subsequently ascertained
by my friend, the late mister Supton, that a man
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named Huguessen, who had been for a short time headkeeper
and zoological gardens, had been found dead in bed by
his landlady, with a look on his face so awful
that she had fled shrieking from the room. The death
was of course attributed to syncope. But my friend, who
by the way, had never heard of Huguessen before he
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received the foregoing account through the medium of Planchet, told me,
and I agreed with him, that from similar cases that
had come within his experience, it was most probable that
Huguessen had in reality projected himself and had perished in
the manner described. No more improbable than the above story
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is that sent me by my old school friend Martin Tristram,
who died last year. I style it the Case of
Martin Tristram. It is reproduced from a magazine published some
three years ago. After Martin Tristram once took up spiritualism,
his visits to me became most erratic, and I not
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only never knew when to expect him, but I was
not always sure when he did come, that it was he.
This sounds extraordinary to see a man is assuredly to
recognize him, not always by no means always. There are
circumstances in which a man loses his identity when his
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ego is supplanted by another ego, when he ceases to
be himself and assumes an individuality which is entirely different
from himself. This is undoubtedly the case in madness, imbecility
at epilepsy so called total loss of memory through cerebral injury, hypnotism,
sometimes in projection when the astral body gets detained, and
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also not infrequently in investigating peculiar instances of psychic phenomena.
But if the astral body has been evicted from its
carnal home. Whither has it gone? And what is the
nature of the thing that has taken its place? Ah,
These are indeed puzzles, puzzles I am devoting a lifetime
to solve. There have been moments when unseen hands have
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gradually begun to pull aside the obscuring veil, when the
identity of the usurping spirit has seemed on the verge
of being disclosed to me, and I have been about
to be initiated into the greatest and most zealously guarded
of all secrets. There have been times, I say, when
my occult researches have actually brought me to this climax.
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But up to the present I have been disappointed. The
curtain has suddenly fallen, the esoteric ego has shrunk into
its shell, and the mystery surrounding it has remained impenetrable.
This is but one, albeit perhaps the most striking, of
the many methods through which the supervisical endeavors to get
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in immediate contact with the physical. I was unpleasantly reminded
of it when Martin Tristram's carnal body came to visit
me one night several years ago. I was aware that
it was not Tristram. His mannerisms were the same, his
voice had not altered, but there was an expression in
his eyes that told of a very different spirit from
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Martin's dwelling within that body. The night being cold, he
closed the door carefully, and, crossing the room to where
I sat by the fire, threw himself in an easy
chair and gazed meditatively at me. My rooms in Bloomsbury
were not lonely. They had more than their share of
brawling bracts on either side. There were no gloomy recesses
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or ghost suggestive cupboards, and I never once experienced in
them the slightest apprehension of sudden, supervisical manifestations. Yet I
cannot help saying that as I met that glance from
the pseudo Tristram's eyes, I felt my flesh began to creep.
He sat so long in silence that I began to
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wonder if he ever meant to speak. The secret of
success in seeing certain classes of apparitions, he said, at length,
to a very great extent, lies in sympathy. Sympathy, and
now for my story, I will tell you in the
third person. I looked at Tristram's face in dismay. The
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third person, Yes, the third person, he gravely rejoined, and
under the circumstances, the only person you see. It is
now close on midnight. I looked at the clock. Great heavens,
what he had said was correct. A whole evening had
slipped by without my knowledge. He would, of course have
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to stay the night. I suggested it to him, my
dear fellow. He replied, with an odd smile. Don't worry
about me. I am not dependent on any trains. I
shall be home by two o'clock. I shivered. A draft
of cold air had, in all probability stolen through the
cracks of the ill fitting window frames. You have on
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one of your queer moods, Martin, I expostulated to be
home by two o'clock. You must fly, but proceed at
all costs. The story. Tristram raised an eyebrow, a true
sign that something of special interest would follow. You know, bruks,
he began. I nodded very well. Then he went on.
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Exactly a week ago, Martin Tristram arrived there from Antwerp.
The hour was late, the weather boisterous. Tristram was tired,
and any lodging was better than none. Hailing a four wheeler,
he asked the jehu to drive him to some decent
hotel where the sheets were clean and the tariff moderate,
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and the fellow, gathering up the reins, took him at
a snail's pace to a medieval looking tavern in La
Rue Croissant. You remember that street, perhaps not. It is
quite a back street, extremely narrow, very tortuous, and miserably
lighted with a few gas lamps of the usual antique
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Belgian order. Tristram was too tired, however, to be fastidious.
He felt he could lie down and go to sleep anywhere,
and what scruples he might have had were entirely dissipated
by the appearance of the charming girl who answered the door.
It is not expedient to dwell upon her. She plays
a very minor part, if indeed any, in the story.
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Martin Tristram merely thought her pretty, and that, as I
have said, fully reconciled him to taking up his quarters
in the house. He has, as you are doubtless aware,
a weakness for vivid coloring, and her bright yellow hair,
carmine lips, and scarlet stockings struck him impressively. As she
led the way to his bed chamber, where she somewhat
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reluctantly parted from him with a subtly attractive smile. Left
to himself, Martin sleepily examined his surroundings. The room, oak
paneled throughout, was long, low and gloomy. An enormous, old
dashioned empty fireplace occupied the center of one of the walls.
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On the one side of it was an oak settee,
on the other an equally ponderous black oak chest. Heavy
oaken beams traversed the ceiling, and the somber, funereal character
of the room was fully increased by a colossal and
antique four poster, which placed in the exact middle of
the chamber, faced a gigantic mirror attached grotesquely carved and
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excessively lofty sable supports. Viewed in the feeble fluctuating candlelight,
the latter seemed endowed with some peculiar and emphatically weird life.
Their glistening, polished surfaces threw a dozen and one fantastic
but oddly human shadows on the boards, as at the
same time they appeared in bewildering alternation to increase and
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diminish in stature. Tristram hastily undressed and stretching himself between
the blankets, prepared to go to sleep like yourself, and
for a similar reason, he never sleeps on his left side. Accordingly,
he occupied the right portion only of the enormous bed.
Why he did not fall asleep at once he could
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not explain. He fancied that it might be because he
was overtired. This undoubtedly had something to do with it,
as also had the remarkable noises, footfalls, creaks, and sighs
that came from every corner of the apartment the moment
the light was out. He listened to these inexplicable sounds
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with increasing alarm, until the sonorous clock from somewhere outside
boomed one when, quite unaccountably, he fell asleep, awakening on
the stroke of two from a dreadful nightmare. To his
intense astonishment and consternation, he was no longer alone in
the bed. Someone or something was lying by his side
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on the left hand side of the bed. At first,
his thoughts reverted to the young lady with the scarlet stockings,
then a sensation of icy coldness. Whilst speedily reassuring him
with regard to her struck him with the utmost terror,
who or what could it be. For some seconds he
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lay in breathless silence, too frightened even to stir and panic,
stricken lest the violent beating of his heart should arouse
the mysterious visitor. But at length, impelled by an irresistible impulse,
he sat up in bed and opened his eyes. The
room was aglow with a phosphorescent light, and in the
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depths of the glittering mirror he saw a startling reproduction
of the phantasmagoric four poster. He instinctively felt that there
were some extraordinary change in the supports, and that the
suspicions he had at first entertained as to their semi
human properties had become verified. But mercifully for his sanity,
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he found it impossible to look. His attention was immediately
riveted on the object by his side, which he recognized
with a thrill of surprise, was a bronzed and bearded
man of rather more than middle age, who appeared to
be buried in the most profound sleep. The picture was
so vividly portrayed in the glass that Tristram could see
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the gentle heaving of the bed clothes each time the
sleeper breathed. Fascinated beyond measure at such an unlooked for spectacle,
and desirous of a closer inspection, Tristram, with a supreme effort,
managed to tear away his eyes from the mirror and
to glance at the bed, where, to his unmitigated astonishment,
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he saw no one. Quite Unable to know what to
make of the phenomenon, he again directed his gaze to
the glass, and there right enough lay the sleeper. A
cold shudder now ran through Tristram. He could no longer
disguise from himself what he had in reality thought all
along that the room was haunted. The usual symptoms accompanying
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oc colt manifestations rapidly made themselves known. Tristram was constrained
to stare at the luminous glitter before him, in helpless
expans to save his soul. He could neither have stirred
nor uttered. The faintest ejaculation he saw in the mirror
the door of the bedroom slowly open, and a hideous,
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apish face peeped stealthily in, not at him, but at
the sleeper. Next he watched a figure, brown and hairy
and lurid, the figure of some huge monkey come crawling
into the room on all fours and followed each of
its tell tale movements as sidling up to its sleeping victim.
(35:34):
It suddenly hurled itself at him, choking him to death
with its long fingers. This was the climax Tristram saw
no more. The phosphorescent light died out, the mirror darkened,
and on sinking back on his pillow, he realized with
the wildest delight he was once again alone. His bedfellow
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had gone. Tristram was so unnerved by all that had
happened that he made up his mind to leave the
house at daybreak, a decision which however, was altered on
the appearance of the sun and the charming little girl
in the red stockings. After breakfasting, Tristram strolled around the town,
chancing to meet an old schoolfellow named Harriet in the
(36:19):
Rue des Murmadotte. Harriet had only recently come to Bruges.
He was dissatisfied with his lodgings and readily fell in
with Tristram's suggestion that they should dig together. The maid
with the yellow hair was more pleasing than ever. Harriet
fell desperately in love with her, and it was close
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on midnight before he could be persuaded to bid her
good night and accompany Tristram to the bedchamber. I wonder
why she told me not to sleep on the left
side of the bed, he said to Martin. As they
began to undress. Tristram glanced guiltily at the mirror. For
reasons of his own. He hadn't as a mother much
(37:00):
hinted to Harriet what he had seen there the previous night,
and he was not at all sure now that it
might not have been a nightmare or an illucination. Anyhow,
he would like to put it to the test before
mentioning it to anyone. And Harriet, whom he knew to
be a skeptic with regard to ghosts, was so strong
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and hail a man physically that happen, what might He
had no apprehensions whatever concerning him. Regretting that he was
obliged to disobey the wishes of a lady, Harriot declared
his preference for the left side of the bed, adding
that if the maiden was so highly enamored of him,
she must put herself to the inconvenience of a few
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extra yards. Infatuation like hers, he maintained, should surely overcome
all obstacles. Nothing loth Tristram gave in to him, and
before many minutes had elapsed, both men had fallen into
a deep sleep. On the stroke of two, Tristram awoke,
perspiring horribly. The room was once again aglow with a
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phosphorescent light, and he felt the presence next to him
of something cold and clammy. Unable to look elsewhere, he
was again compelled to gaze in the mirror, where he saw,
to his consternation and horror, no Harriot, but in his place,
the man with the bronzed face and bushy beard. He
had hardly recovered from the shock occasioned by this discovery
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when the door surreptitiously opened and the figure of the
ape glided noiselessly in again, he was temporarily paralyzed, his
limbs losing all their power of action, and his tongue
cleaving to the roof of his mouth. The movements of
the phanfasm were entirely repetitionary of the previous night. Approaching
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the bed on all fours, it leaped on its victim,
the tragedy being accompanied this time by the most realistic
chokings and girls, to all of which Tristram was obliged
to listen in an agony of doubt and terror. The
drama ended, Tristram was overcome by a sudden fit of drowsiness, and,
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sinking back on to his pillow, slept till broad daylight.
Anxious to question Harriet as to whether he too had
been a witness of the ghostly transaction, he touched him
lightly on the shoulder. There was no reply. He touched
him again, and still no answer. He touched him yet
a third time, and as there was still no response,
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he leaned over his shoulder and peered into his face.
Harriet was dead. This is the fourth death in that
bed within the last twelve months that I can swear
to the English doctor, remarked to Tristram as they walked
down the street together, and always from the same cause,
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failure of the heart due to a sudden shock. If
you take my advice, you'll clear out of place. At once.
Tristram thought so too, But before he went, he had
a talk with the girl in the red stockings. I
can't tell you all I know, she said to him
as he kissed her. But I wouldn't sleep a night
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in that room for a fortune, though I believe it's
quite safe if you keep on the right side of
the bed. I wish your friend had done so. He
was so handsome, and Tristram not a little hurt, let
go her hand and made arrangements for the funeral. And
is that all? I asked? As Tristram's material body paused,
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it may be, was the reply. But that is why
I've come to you. Don't be gulled by Tristram into
any investigations in that house. Enthusiasm for his research work
makes him unconsciously callous, and if he once got you there,
he might, even against your better judgment, persuade you to
sleep on the left side. Good Night. I shook hands
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with him, and he departed. The following evening, I heard
it all again from Tristram himself, the real Tristram, needless
to say, his concluding remarks differed essentially with unbounded cordiality.
He urged me to accompany him back again to the Bruges,
and I declined. He wrote to me afterwards to say
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that he had discovered the history of the house A
man a music hall artist. Answering to the description of
the figure in the bed had once lived there with
a performing ape an orangutang, and happening to annoy the animal.
One day the latter had killed him. The brute was
eventually shot. This experience of mine, Tristram added, is of
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greatest value, for it has thoroughly convinced me of one
thing at least, and that that apes have spirits. And
if that be so, so must all other kinds of animals.
Of course they must phanfasms of cat and baboon. A
sister of a well known author tells me there used
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to be a house called the Swallows, standing in two
acres of land close to a village near Basingstoke. In
eighteen forty a mister Bishop of Tring bought the house,
which had long stood empty, and went to live there.
In eighteen forty one, after being there a fortnight, two
servants gave notice to leave, stating that the place was
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haunted by a large cat and a big baboon, which
they constantly saw stealing down the staircases and passages. They
also testified to hearing sounds as of somebody being strangled
proceeding from an empty attic near where they slept, and
of the screams and groans of a number of people
being horribly tortured in the cellars just underneath the deiry.
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On going to see what was the cause of the disturbances,
nothing was ever visible. By and by other members of
the household began to be harassed by similar manifestations. The
news spread through the village, and crowds of people came
to the house with lights and sticks to see if
they could witness anything. One night, at about twelve o'clock,
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when several of the watchers were stationed on guard in
the empty courtyard, they saw all the forms of a
huge cat and a baboon rise from the closed grating
of the large cellar under the old deary, rush past them,
and disappear in a dark angle of the walls. The
same figures were repeatedly seen afterwards by many other persons.
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Early in December of eighteen forty one, mister Bishop, hearing
fearful screams accompanied by deep and horse jabberings apparently coming
from the top of the house, rushed upstairs, whereupon all
was instantly silent, and he could discover nothing. After that,
mister Bishop set to work to get rid of the house,
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and was fortunate enough to find a purchaser, a retired colonel,
who was soon, however, scared out of it. This was
in eighteen forty two. It was soon after pulled down.
The ground was used for the erection of the cottages,
but the hauntings being transferred to them, they were speedily vacated,
and no one ever daring to inhabit them. They were
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eventually demolished, the sight on which they stood being converted
into allotments. There were many theories as to the history
of the Swallows, one being that a highwayman known as
Steeplechase Jock, the son of a Scottish chieftain, had once
plied his trade there and murdered many people, whose bodies
were supposed to be buried somewhere on or near the premises.
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He was said to have had a terrible, though decidedly unorthodox, ending,
falling into a vat of boiling tar a raving madman.
But what were the phanfasms of the ape and the cat?
Were they the earth bound spirits of the highwaymen and
his horse, or simply the spirits of two animals? Though
either theory is possible, I am inclined to favor the
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former psychic Bears Edmund Lenthal. Swift, appointed in eighteen fourteen
keeper of the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London,
refers in an article in Notes and Queries eighteen sixty
to various unaccountable phenomena happening in the Tower during his
residence there. He says that one night, in the jewel office,
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one of the centuries was alarmed by a figure like
a huge bear, issuing from underneath the jewel room door.
He thrust at it with his bayonet, which, going right
through it, stuck in the doorway, whereupon he dropped it
in a fit, and was carried senseless to the guardroom.
When on the morrow mister Swift saw the soldier in
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the guardroom, his fellow sentinel was also there, and the
latter testified to having seen his comrade before the alarm,
quiet and active, and in full possession of his faculties.
He was now so Mistie or Swift added, changed almost
beyond recognition, and died the following day. Mister George Offer,
(46:08):
in referring to this incident, alludes to queer noises having
been heard at the time the figure appeared. Presuming that
the sentinel was not the victim of a hallucination. The
question arises as to the kind of spirit that he saw.
The bear, judging by cases that have been told to me,
is by no means an uncommon occult phenomenon. The difficulty
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is how to classify it, since upon no question appertaining
to the psychic can one dogmatize To quote from a
clever poem that appeared in the January number of the
Occult Review. To pretend one knows anything definite about the
immaterial world is all swank. At the most, we can
only speculate nothing, nothing whatsoever beyond the bar fact that
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there are phenomena unaccountable by physical laws has yet been discovered.
All the time and energy and space that have been
devoted by scientists to the investigation of spiritualism and to
making tests and automatic writing, are, in my opinion, hopelessly futile.
No one who has ever really experienced spontaneous ghostly manifestations
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could for one moment believe in the genuineness of the
phenomena produced at seances. They have never deceived me, and
I am of the opinion spirits cannot be convoked to
order either through a so called medium falling into a
so called trance through table turning, automatic writing, or anything else.
If a spirit comes, it will come either voluntarily or
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in obedience to some unknown power, and certainly neither to
satisfy the curiosity of a crowd of sensation loving men
and women, nor to be analyzed by some cold, calculating,
presumptuous professor of physics, whose proper sphere is the laboratory,
but to proceed the phenomena of the Big Bear, provided
again it was really objective. May have been the phanfasm
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of some prehistoric creature whose bones light and turred beneath
the tower, for we know the valley of the Thames
was infested with giant reptiles and quadrupeds of all kinds.
Or it may have been a vice elemental, or the
phantasm of a human being who lived a purely animal life,
and whose spirit would naturally take the form most closely
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resembling it. Judging by the number of experiences related to me,
hauntings by phantom hares and rabbits would appear to be
far from uncommon. There is this difference, however, between the
hauntings by the two species of an animal. Phantom hairs
usually pretend death or some grave catastrophe, either to the
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witness himself or to someone immediately associated with him, whereas
phantom rabbits are seldom prophetic and may generally be looked
upon as merely the earth bound spirits of some poor
rabbits that have met with untimely ends. Hauntings by a
white rabbit, Mister W. T. Steed, in his Real Ghost Stories,
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gives an account of the hauntings by a phantom rabbit
and a house in Blank Road. He does not, however,
mention any locality. After describing several of the phenomena which
disturbed various occupants of the place, he goes on to say,
in the language of missus A who narrates the incidents,
a dog which lay on the rug, also heard the sounds,
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for he pricked up his ears and barked. Without a
moment's delay. She flew to the door, calling the dog
to follow her, intending as she did so, to open
the hall door and call for assistance. But the dog,
though an excellent house dog, crouched at her feet and whined,
but would not follow her up the stairs. So she
carried him up in her arms, and, reaching the door,
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called for assistance. When However, the dining room doors were open.
The rooms were in perfect quiet and destitute of any
signs of life. The behavior of the dog here accords
exactly with the behavior of dogs I have had in
haunted houses, and substantiates my theory that dogs are excellent
psychic barometers. After the family had been in the house
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a few weeks, a white rabbit made its appearance. This
uncanny animal would suddenly appear in a room in which
members of the family were seated, and, after gliding round
and slipping under chairs and tables, would disappear through a
brick wall as easily as through an open door. This
is the invariable trick of ghosts. They seldom, however, open doors.
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Missus A adds, some years now have elapsed since the
incident I have now related took place, and again, in
response to orders given by the enterprising landlord of the property,
long closed doors and windows have been thrown open, and
painters and paper hangers have brought in their skill to
bear upon gruesome rooms and halls. The house is once
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more inhabited, this time by a widow lady and some
grown up sons. These tenants come from a distance and
are entirely strangers both to the neighborhood and the former
history of the house. But to use her own words,
the mistress cannot understand what ails the house. Her sons
insist on sleeping together in one room, and the quiet
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of the house is constantly being broken by the erratic
appearances of a large white rabbit, which inmates are frequently
engaged chasing, but are never able to find. Mister Steed
offers no explanation. I can see no other conclusion, however,
than that this ghost was the actual phantasm of some
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rabbit that had been done to death in the house,
probably by the boy whose apparition was among the other
manifestations seen there John Wesley's Ghost. During the extraordinary manifestations
which occurred in the house of John Wesley at Epworth,
the phantom forms of two animals appeared, one being a
large white rabbit and the other animal like a badger,
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which used to appear in the bedrooms and run about,
then disappear whilst the various bankings and rappings were at
their loudest. This is the only case I have ever
come across of the ghost of a badger. I think
it must be unique. Mister span adds. Many strange and
inexplicable things occurred in that house which were not due
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to any natural calls or reason. I remember that loud
rappings used to sound round my room at nights, even
when I had a light burning. I was often awakened
by rappings on the floor of my bedroom, which would
then sound on the walls and furniture, and were heard
by others occupying rooms some distance off. This again is
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most interesting, as ghosts seldom visit lighted rooms. Mister Span continues,
It was in the afternoon, in bright daylight when my
brother saw this mysterious animal. He was in the drawing
room alone, and as he was standing at one side
of the room looking at picture on the walls, he
heard a noise behind him, and found, on looking round,
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that a sofa, which generally lay against one of the walls,
had been lifted by some unknown power into the middle
of the room. At the same time, he saw an
animal like a rabbit, run from under the sofa, across
the room and disappear into the wall. He searched everywhere
for the animal, which could not have escaped from the
room as the doors and window were closed, but was
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unable to find any sign of one, or any hole
whereby one might have passed out. The psychic faculty in
hares and rabbits. Hares and rabbits are very susceptible to
the supervisical, the presence of which they scent in the
same manner as do horses and dogs. I have known
them to evince the greatest symptoms of terror when brought
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into a haunted house. End of Chapter five
Chapters four and five of Animal Ghosts. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
This reading by Alison Hester of Athens, Georgia. Animal Ghosts
by Elliott O'Donnell, Chapter four, bulls, cows, pigs, et cetera.
(00:27):
From the Hebrides, there comes to me a case of
the phanfasm of a black bull that, on certain nights
in the year is heard bellowing inside the shed where
it was killed. There are many accounts of ghostly cows
heard mooing in the moors and boglins of Scotland and Ireland, respectively,
and not a few cases of whole herds of phantom
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cattle scene gliding along one behind the other with silent,
noiseless tread. Though I have never had the opportunity of
experimenting with cats to see if they are sensitive to
the superphysical, I see no reason why they should not be,
and I feel quite certain they will participate in the
future life a propos of pigs. Mister Dyer in his
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Ghost World says another form of specter animal is the
kirk grim which is believed to haunt many churches. Sometimes
it is a pig, sometimes a horse, the haunting specter
being the spirit of an animal buried alive in the
churchyard for the purpose of scaring away the sacrilegious. Mister
(01:33):
Dyer goes on to say that it was the custom
of the old Christian churches to bury a lamb under
the altar, and that if anyone entered a church out
of service time and happened to see a little lamb
spring across the choir and vanish, it was a sure
prognostication of the death of some child, and if this
apparition was seen by the grave digger, the death would
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take place immediately. Mister Dyer also tells us that the
Danish kirk grim was thought to hide itself in the
tower of a church in preference to any other place,
and that it was thought to protect the sacred buildings.
According to the same writer, in the streets of Krosterberg,
a grave sow, or as it was called, a gray sow,
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was frequently seen, and it was said to be the
apparition of a sow formerly buried alive, its appearance foretelling
death or calamity. Phantasm of a goat. Missus Crowe, in
her Night Side of Nature, relates one case of a
house near Philadelphia, USA that was haunted by a variety
(02:40):
of phenomena, among others, that of a specter resembling a goat.
Other extraordinary things happened in the house, she writes, which
had the reputation of being haunted, although the sun had
not believed it, and had thereupon not mentioned the report
to the father. One day the children's they had been
running after such a queer thing in the cellar. It
(03:03):
was like a goat, and not like a goat, but
it seemed to be like a shadow. This explanation does
not appear to be very satisfactory. But as I have
heard of one or two other cases of premises being
haunted by what undoubtedly were the phanfasms of goats, I
think it highly probable it was the ghost of a
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goat in this instance too, the phantom pigs of Chiltern Hills.
A good many years ago there was a story current
of an extraordinary haunting by a herd of pigs. The
chief authority on the subject was a farmer who was
an eye witness of the phenomena. I will call him
mister B. Mister B, as a boy, lived in a
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small house called the Moat Grange, which was situated in
a very lonely spot near four crossroads connecting four towns.
The house deriving its name from the fact that a
moat surrounded it, stood near the meeting point of the
four roads, which was the sight of a gibbet, the
bodies of the criminals being buried in the moat well.
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The bees had not been living long on the farm
before they were awakened one night by hearing the most
dreadful noises, partly human and partly animal, seemingly proceeding from
a neighboring spinny, and on going to a long front
window overlooking the cross roads, they saw a number of
spotted creatures like pigs, screaming, fighting and tearing up the
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soil on the site of the criminal's cemetery. The sight
was so unexpected and alarming that the bees were appalled,
and mister B was about to strike a light on
the tinder box when the most diabolical white face was
pressed against the outside of the window pane and stared
in at them. This was the climax. The children shrieked
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with terror and missus b falling on her knees, began
to pray, whereupon the face of the window vanished, and
the herd of pigs, ceasing their disturbance, tore frantically down
one of the high roads and disappeared from view. Similar
phenomena were seen and heard so frequently afterwards that the
bees eventually had to leave the farm, and subsequent inquiries
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led to their learning that the place had long borne
the reputation of being haunted, the ghosts being supposed to
be the earth bound spirits of the executed criminals. Whether
this was so or not must of course be a
matter of conjecture. The herds of hogs may well have
been the phantasms of actual earth bound pigs, attracted to
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the spot by a sort of fellow feeling for the criminals,
whose gross and carnal natures would no doubt appeal to them.
A lane in Hertfordshire was and perhaps still is, haunted
by the phantasm of a big white sow which had
accidentally been run over and killed. It was a casely
heard grunting, and had the unpleasant knack of approaching one
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noiselessly from the rear, and of making the most unearthly
noise just behind one's back. Sheep, lambs, and sheep, possessing
finer natures than goats and pigs, would appear to be
less earth bound, and in all probability only temporarily haunt
the spots that witnessed their usually barbarous ends. Most slaughter
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horses are haunted by them, as indeed by many other animals.
A Scottish moor long bore the reputation for being haunted
by a phantom flock of sheep, which were always heard
baying plaintivelly before a big storm. It was supposed they
were the ghosts of a flock that had perished in
the memorable severe weather of Christmas eighteen eighty. Here is
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a case that may be regarded as typical of hauntings
by sheep, presumably the earth bound spirits of the sheep
overwhelmed in some great storm or unexpected catastrophe. The specter
flock of sheep in Germany during the Seven Years War
in Germany, writes Missus Crowe in her Night Side of Nature,
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a drover lost his life in a drunken squabble on
the high road. For some time there was a sort
of rude tombstone with a cross on it to mark
the spot where his body was interred, but this has
long fallen, and a milestone now fills its place. Nevertheless,
it continues to be commonly asserted by the country people,
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and also by various travelers, that they may have been
deluded on that spot by seeing as they imagine, herds
of beasts, which on investigation proved to be merely visionary.
Of course, many people look upon this as a superstition,
but a very regular confirmation of the story occurred in
the year of eighteen twenty six, when two gentlemen and
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two ladies were passing the spot in a post carriage.
One of these was a clergyman, and none of them
had ever heard of the phenomenon said to be attached
to the place. They had been discussing the prospects of
the minister, who was on his way to a vicarage
to which he had just been appointed, when they saw
a large flock of sheep, which stretched quite across the road,
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and was accompanied by a shepherd and a long haired
black dog. As to meet cattle on that road was
nothing uncommon, and indeed they had met several droves in
the course of one day. No remark was made at
the moment, till suddenly they looked at each other and said,
what's become of the sheep? Quite perplexed at their sudden disappearance,
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they called to the position to stop, and all got
out in order to mount the little elevation and look around.
But still unable to discover them, they now bethought themselves
of asking the postilion where they were. To their infinite surprise,
they learned that he had not seen them. Upon this
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they bade him quicken his pace, that they might overtake
a carriage that had passed them shortly before and inquire
if that party had seen the sheep, but they had not.
Four years later, a postmaster named Jay was on the
same road driving a carriage in which were a clergyman
and his wife, when he saw a large flock of
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sheep near the same spot. Seeing they were very fine weathers,
and supposing them to have been bought at a sheep
fair that was taking place a few miles off, Jay
drew up his reins and stopped his horses, turning at
the same time to the clergyman to say that he
wanted to inquire the price of the sheep, as he
intended going the next day to the fair himself. Whilst
(09:49):
the minister was asking him what sheep he meant, Jay
got down and found himself in the midst of the animals,
the size and beauty of which astonished him. They asked
him at an unusual rate whilst he made his way
through them to find the shepherd. When on getting to
the end of the flock, they suddenly disappeared, He then
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first learned that his fellow travelers had not seen them
at all. So writes missus Crow, and I quote the
case in support of my argument that sheep, like horses, cats, dogs,
and all other kinds of animals, possess spirits and consequently
have a future state of existence. I have not yet
(10:31):
experimented with sheep, goats, or pigs, but I do not
doubt that they are more or less sensitive to the
superphysical influences and possessed the psychic faculty of scenting the unknown,
though not perhaps in so great a degree as any
of the other animals I have enumerated. End of Chapter four,
Part two, Wild Animals and the Unknown. Chapter five, Wild
(10:56):
Animals and the Unknown Apes. The following case of animal
haltings was recorded in automatic writing. I sank wearily into
my easy chair before the fire, which burned with a
fitful and sullen glow in the tiny grate of my
one room, bare and desolate, as only the room of
(11:18):
an unsuccessful author can be. My condition was pitiable. For
the past twelve months, I had not earned a scent,
and of my small capital there now remained but two
pounds toward the hound of starvation. From my door, in
the moonlight, I could perceive all the bareness of the apartment.
(11:39):
Would to God fancy would ride to me on this
moonbeam and give me inspiration. Twas indeed weird this silver
ethereal path connecting the Moon with the Earth, And the
more I gazed along it, the more I wished to
leave my body and escape to the star lighted vaults.
Certainly from a conversation I had once had with a
(12:01):
member of the New Occult Society, I believed it possible
by concentrating all the mental activities in one channel, so
to overcome the barriers which prevent the soul from visiting
scenes of the ethereal world, as to pass materialized to
the spot upon which the ideas are fixed. But although
(12:22):
I had a sayed how many times, I do not
like to confess to gain that amount of concentration necessary
for the separation of the soul from the body. Up
to the present, all my attempts had been fruitless. Doubtless
there had been something too minute, even for definition, that
had interrupted my self abstraction, A something that had wrecked
(12:43):
my venture just when I felt it to be on
the verge of completion. And was it likely that now,
when my ideas were misty and vague, I should be
more successful. I wanted to quit the cruel bonds of
nature and be free, free to roam and ramble. But
where at length, as I gazed into the moonlight, I
(13:06):
lost all cognizance of the objects around me, and my
eyes became fixed on the mountains of the moon, which
I discovered with a start were no longer specks. I found,
to my amazement, I had left my body and was
careening swiftly through space, infinite space. The range opened up
in front of me, spreading out far and wide, winding
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black and awful, their solemn grandeur lost in that terrible
desolation which makes the moon appear like a hideous nightmare.
I could see with amazing clearness the sides of the mountains.
There were enormous black fissures, some of them hundreds of
feet in width. And the more I gazed, the more
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impressed I grew. With the silence. There was no life.
There were no seas, no lakes, no trees, no grass,
no sighing or moaning of the wind, nothing to remind
me of the earth. I now found, to my terror,
I had actually quitted. Everything around me was black, the sky,
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the mountains, the vast pits, the dried up mouths of
which gaped dismally. With the movements of a man in
a fit, I essayed to hinder the phinis of my
mad plunge. I waved my limbs violently, kicking out and
shrieking in the agonies of fear. I cursed and prayed,
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wept and laughed, alternately, did everything, yet nothing that could
save me from contact with the lone desert, so horribly close.
Nearer and nearer I approached, until at last my feet
rested on the hard, caked soil. For the first few
minutes after my arrival, I was too overwhelmed with fear
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to do other than remain stationary. The ground beneath my
feet swarmed with myriads of foul and long legged insect,
things with unwildy pincers and protruding eyes, things covered with
scaly armor, hybrids of beetles and scorpions. I have a
distinct recollection of one huge jointed centipede making a vicious
(15:15):
grab at my leg. He failed to make his teeth
meet in anything tangible, and emitting a venomous hiss, disappeared
into a circular pit. Whilst I was the victim of
this insect's ferocity, the horizon had become darkened by the
shadowy outline of an enormous apish form. I wanted to
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run away, but could not, and was compelled sorely against
my will to witness its approach. Never shall I forget
the agonies of doubt I endured during its advance. No
man in a tiger's den, nor deer tied to a
tree awaiting its destroyer, could have suffered more than I
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did then, and my terror increased tenfold when I recognized
the monster Nipon, a young gorilla that had been under
my charge and had given me no end of trouble.
When I was headkeeper in the zoological gardens at Bern,
I never hated anything so much as I hated that
baboon at my hands. It had undergone a thousand subtle torments.
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I had pinched it, poked it, pulled its hair, frightened
it by putting on masks and making all sorts of
queer noises, And finally I had secretly poisoned it. And
now we stood face to face, without any bars between us.
Never shall I forget the look of intense satisfaction in
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its hideous eyes, as its gaze encountered mine. In that strange,
forlorn world we faced each other, I the tyrant, once
now the query. In the wildness of its glee, it
capered about like a mad thing, executing the most exaggerated
antics that augmented my terror. Every second I anticipated an assault,
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and the knowledge of my fears lent additional fierceness to
its gambols. A sudden change in my attitude at length
made it cease. The ews had returned to my limbs,
my muscles were quivering, and before it could stop me,
I had fled the wildest of chases. Then ensued I
ran with a speed that would have shamed a record
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beater on Earth. With extraordinary nimbleness. I vaulted over titanic
boulders of rocks, jumped across dikes of infinite depths, scurried
light lightning over tracks of rough, lacerating ground, and never
for one instant felt like flagging. Suddenly, to my horror,
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I came to an abrupt standstill, and the cry of
some hunted animal burst from my lips. Unwittingly, I had
run against a huge wall of granite, and escape was
now impossible. Again and again, I clawed the hard rock
until the skin hung in shreds from my fingers, and
the blood pattered on the dark soil that, in all
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probability had never tasted moisture before. All this amused my
pursuer vastly. It watched with the leisure of one who
knows its fish will be landed in safety. And there
suddenly came to me, through my old factory nerves, a
knowledge that it was speaking to me in the language
of sense, The language I never understood till now was
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the language of all animals. Reach a little higher, It said,
there are niches up there, and you must stretch your limbs.
Ha ha, Do you remember how you used to make
me stretch mine. You do well, You needn't shiver. Explain
to me how it is I find you here. I
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cannot comprehend. I guess with a gesticulation that was grotesque.
The great beast laughed in my face. How so it queried?
You used to quibble me upon my dull wits? Must
I now returned the compliment, hah, there's blood on your hands.
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Blood I will lick it up. And with a mocking
grin it advanced. Keep off, keep off, I shouted, my god,
Will this dream never cease? The dream, as you call it,
the gorilla jeered, has only just begun. The climax of
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your horrors has yet to come. If you cannot tell
me the purpose of your visits, I will tell you mine.
Can your lordship spare the time to listen? I gave
no answer. I clutched the wall and uttered incoherent cries
like some frightened madman. The gorilla felt the muscles and
its hairy fingers and showed its I looked eagerly at
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my enemy. Come, you haven't guessed my riddle. You are
dull tonight, it said lightly. That old wine of yours
made you sleep too soundly don't let me disturb you.
I will explain. The moon is now my home. I
share it with the spirits of all the animals and
insects that were once on your earth. And now that
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we are free from such as you, free to wander
anywhere we like without fear of being shot or caught
or caged, we are happy. And what makes us still
happier is the knowledge that the majority of men and
women will never have a joyous after state like ours.
They will be earth bound in that miserable world of theirs,
and compelled to keep their old haunts, scaring to death
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with their ugly faces all who have the misfortune to
see them. There is another fate in store for you, however,
do you know what it is? It paused no sound
other than that occasioned by its bumping on the soil,
broke the impressive hush, do you know? It said again, Well,
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I will tell you I am going to kill you
right away, so that your spirit, it's all nonsense to
talk about souls such as you have no soul, will
be earth bound here here forever, and will be a
perpetual source of amusement to all of us animal ghosts.
It then began to jabber ferociously, and crouching down, prepared
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to spring for Heaven's sake. I shrieked for Heaven's sake,
but I might as well have appealed to the wind.
It had no sense of mercy. He he e screamed,
What a joke, What a splendid joke. Your wit never
seems to degenerate. Huh, guessin, I'm wondering if you will
be as funny when you're a ghost. Get ready, I'm coming,
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I'm coming. And as the sky deepened to an awe
inspiring black, and the star grew larger, brighter, fiercer, and
the great lone deserts appealed to me with a force
unequaled before it sprang through the ear a singing in
my ears, and a great bloody mist rose before my eyes.
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The wailing and screeching of a million souls was borne
in loud, protracted echoings through the drum of my ears.
Men and women with evil faces rose up from a
crag and boulder to spit and tear at me. I
saw creatures of such damning ugliness that my soul screamed
aloud with terror, And then from the mountain tops, the
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bolt of heaven was let loose. Every spirit was swept
away like chaff. Before the first of wind, that hurling
and shrieking bore down upon me. I gave myself up
for lost. I felt all the agonies of suffocation. My
lungs were torn from my palpitating body, my legs wrenched
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round in their sockets, my feet whirled upwards in that
gust of devilish air, all excruciating, damning pain and pro temper,
and knew no more n b. It was subsequently ascertained
by my friend, the late mister Supton, that a man
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named Huguessen, who had been for a short time headkeeper
and zoological gardens, had been found dead in bed by
his landlady, with a look on his face so awful
that she had fled shrieking from the room. The death
was of course attributed to syncope. But my friend, who
by the way, had never heard of Huguessen before he
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received the foregoing account through the medium of Planchet, told me,
and I agreed with him, that from similar cases that
had come within his experience, it was most probable that
Huguessen had in reality projected himself and had perished in
the manner described. No more improbable than the above story
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is that sent me by my old school friend Martin Tristram,
who died last year. I style it the Case of
Martin Tristram. It is reproduced from a magazine published some
three years ago. After Martin Tristram once took up spiritualism,
his visits to me became most erratic, and I not
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only never knew when to expect him, but I was
not always sure when he did come, that it was he.
This sounds extraordinary to see a man is assuredly to
recognize him, not always by no means always. There are
circumstances in which a man loses his identity when his
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ego is supplanted by another ego, when he ceases to
be himself and assumes an individuality which is entirely different
from himself. This is undoubtedly the case in madness, imbecility
at epilepsy so called total loss of memory through cerebral injury, hypnotism,
sometimes in projection when the astral body gets detained, and
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also not infrequently in investigating peculiar instances of psychic phenomena.
But if the astral body has been evicted from its
carnal home. Whither has it gone? And what is the
nature of the thing that has taken its place? Ah,
These are indeed puzzles, puzzles I am devoting a lifetime
to solve. There have been moments when unseen hands have
(25:34):
gradually begun to pull aside the obscuring veil, when the
identity of the usurping spirit has seemed on the verge
of being disclosed to me, and I have been about
to be initiated into the greatest and most zealously guarded
of all secrets. There have been times, I say, when
my occult researches have actually brought me to this climax.
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But up to the present I have been disappointed. The
curtain has suddenly fallen, the esoteric ego has shrunk into
its shell, and the mystery surrounding it has remained impenetrable.
This is but one, albeit perhaps the most striking, of
the many methods through which the supervisical endeavors to get
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in immediate contact with the physical. I was unpleasantly reminded
of it when Martin Tristram's carnal body came to visit
me one night several years ago. I was aware that
it was not Tristram. His mannerisms were the same, his
voice had not altered, but there was an expression in
his eyes that told of a very different spirit from
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Martin's dwelling within that body. The night being cold, he
closed the door carefully, and, crossing the room to where
I sat by the fire, threw himself in an easy
chair and gazed meditatively at me. My rooms in Bloomsbury
were not lonely. They had more than their share of
brawling bracts on either side. There were no gloomy recesses
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or ghost suggestive cupboards, and I never once experienced in
them the slightest apprehension of sudden, supervisical manifestations. Yet I
cannot help saying that as I met that glance from
the pseudo Tristram's eyes, I felt my flesh began to creep.
He sat so long in silence that I began to
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wonder if he ever meant to speak. The secret of
success in seeing certain classes of apparitions, he said, at length,
to a very great extent, lies in sympathy. Sympathy, and
now for my story, I will tell you in the
third person. I looked at Tristram's face in dismay. The
(27:48):
third person, Yes, the third person, he gravely rejoined, and
under the circumstances, the only person you see. It is
now close on midnight. I looked at the clock. Great heavens,
what he had said was correct. A whole evening had
slipped by without my knowledge. He would, of course have
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to stay the night. I suggested it to him, my
dear fellow. He replied, with an odd smile. Don't worry
about me. I am not dependent on any trains. I
shall be home by two o'clock. I shivered. A draft
of cold air had, in all probability stolen through the
cracks of the ill fitting window frames. You have on
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one of your queer moods, Martin, I expostulated to be
home by two o'clock. You must fly, but proceed at
all costs. The story. Tristram raised an eyebrow, a true
sign that something of special interest would follow. You know, bruks,
he began. I nodded very well. Then he went on.
(28:57):
Exactly a week ago, Martin Tristram arrived there from Antwerp.
The hour was late, the weather boisterous. Tristram was tired,
and any lodging was better than none. Hailing a four wheeler,
he asked the jehu to drive him to some decent
hotel where the sheets were clean and the tariff moderate,
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and the fellow, gathering up the reins, took him at
a snail's pace to a medieval looking tavern in La
Rue Croissant. You remember that street, perhaps not. It is
quite a back street, extremely narrow, very tortuous, and miserably
lighted with a few gas lamps of the usual antique
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Belgian order. Tristram was too tired, however, to be fastidious.
He felt he could lie down and go to sleep anywhere,
and what scruples he might have had were entirely dissipated
by the appearance of the charming girl who answered the door.
It is not expedient to dwell upon her. She plays
a very minor part, if indeed any, in the story.
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Martin Tristram merely thought her pretty, and that, as I
have said, fully reconciled him to taking up his quarters
in the house. He has, as you are doubtless aware,
a weakness for vivid coloring, and her bright yellow hair,
carmine lips, and scarlet stockings struck him impressively. As she
led the way to his bed chamber, where she somewhat
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reluctantly parted from him with a subtly attractive smile. Left
to himself, Martin sleepily examined his surroundings. The room, oak
paneled throughout, was long, low and gloomy. An enormous, old
dashioned empty fireplace occupied the center of one of the walls.
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On the one side of it was an oak settee,
on the other an equally ponderous black oak chest. Heavy
oaken beams traversed the ceiling, and the somber, funereal character
of the room was fully increased by a colossal and
antique four poster, which placed in the exact middle of
the chamber, faced a gigantic mirror attached grotesquely carved and
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excessively lofty sable supports. Viewed in the feeble fluctuating candlelight,
the latter seemed endowed with some peculiar and emphatically weird life.
Their glistening, polished surfaces threw a dozen and one fantastic
but oddly human shadows on the boards, as at the
same time they appeared in bewildering alternation to increase and
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diminish in stature. Tristram hastily undressed and stretching himself between
the blankets, prepared to go to sleep like yourself, and
for a similar reason, he never sleeps on his left side. Accordingly,
he occupied the right portion only of the enormous bed.
Why he did not fall asleep at once he could
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not explain. He fancied that it might be because he
was overtired. This undoubtedly had something to do with it,
as also had the remarkable noises, footfalls, creaks, and sighs
that came from every corner of the apartment the moment
the light was out. He listened to these inexplicable sounds
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with increasing alarm, until the sonorous clock from somewhere outside
boomed one when, quite unaccountably, he fell asleep, awakening on
the stroke of two from a dreadful nightmare. To his
intense astonishment and consternation, he was no longer alone in
the bed. Someone or something was lying by his side
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on the left hand side of the bed. At first,
his thoughts reverted to the young lady with the scarlet stockings,
then a sensation of icy coldness. Whilst speedily reassuring him
with regard to her struck him with the utmost terror,
who or what could it be. For some seconds he
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lay in breathless silence, too frightened even to stir and panic,
stricken lest the violent beating of his heart should arouse
the mysterious visitor. But at length, impelled by an irresistible impulse,
he sat up in bed and opened his eyes. The
room was aglow with a phosphorescent light, and in the
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depths of the glittering mirror he saw a startling reproduction
of the phantasmagoric four poster. He instinctively felt that there
were some extraordinary change in the supports, and that the
suspicions he had at first entertained as to their semi
human properties had become verified. But mercifully for his sanity,
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he found it impossible to look. His attention was immediately
riveted on the object by his side, which he recognized
with a thrill of surprise, was a bronzed and bearded
man of rather more than middle age, who appeared to
be buried in the most profound sleep. The picture was
so vividly portrayed in the glass that Tristram could see
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the gentle heaving of the bed clothes each time the
sleeper breathed. Fascinated beyond measure at such an unlooked for spectacle,
and desirous of a closer inspection, Tristram, with a supreme effort,
managed to tear away his eyes from the mirror and
to glance at the bed, where, to his unmitigated astonishment,
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he saw no one. Quite Unable to know what to
make of the phenomenon, he again directed his gaze to
the glass, and there right enough lay the sleeper. A
cold shudder now ran through Tristram. He could no longer
disguise from himself what he had in reality thought all
along that the room was haunted. The usual symptoms accompanying
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oc colt manifestations rapidly made themselves known. Tristram was constrained
to stare at the luminous glitter before him, in helpless
expans to save his soul. He could neither have stirred
nor uttered. The faintest ejaculation he saw in the mirror
the door of the bedroom slowly open, and a hideous,
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apish face peeped stealthily in, not at him, but at
the sleeper. Next he watched a figure, brown and hairy
and lurid, the figure of some huge monkey come crawling
into the room on all fours and followed each of
its tell tale movements as sidling up to its sleeping victim.
(35:34):
It suddenly hurled itself at him, choking him to death
with its long fingers. This was the climax Tristram saw
no more. The phosphorescent light died out, the mirror darkened,
and on sinking back on his pillow, he realized with
the wildest delight he was once again alone. His bedfellow
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had gone. Tristram was so unnerved by all that had
happened that he made up his mind to leave the
house at daybreak, a decision which however, was altered on
the appearance of the sun and the charming little girl
in the red stockings. After breakfasting, Tristram strolled around the town,
chancing to meet an old schoolfellow named Harriet in the
(36:19):
Rue des Murmadotte. Harriet had only recently come to Bruges.
He was dissatisfied with his lodgings and readily fell in
with Tristram's suggestion that they should dig together. The maid
with the yellow hair was more pleasing than ever. Harriet
fell desperately in love with her, and it was close
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on midnight before he could be persuaded to bid her
good night and accompany Tristram to the bedchamber. I wonder
why she told me not to sleep on the left
side of the bed, he said to Martin. As they
began to undress. Tristram glanced guiltily at the mirror. For
reasons of his own. He hadn't as a mother much
(37:00):
hinted to Harriet what he had seen there the previous night,
and he was not at all sure now that it
might not have been a nightmare or an illucination. Anyhow,
he would like to put it to the test before
mentioning it to anyone. And Harriet, whom he knew to
be a skeptic with regard to ghosts, was so strong
(37:20):
and hail a man physically that happen, what might He
had no apprehensions whatever concerning him. Regretting that he was
obliged to disobey the wishes of a lady, Harriot declared
his preference for the left side of the bed, adding
that if the maiden was so highly enamored of him,
she must put herself to the inconvenience of a few
(37:41):
extra yards. Infatuation like hers, he maintained, should surely overcome
all obstacles. Nothing loth Tristram gave in to him, and
before many minutes had elapsed, both men had fallen into
a deep sleep. On the stroke of two, Tristram awoke,
perspiring horribly. The room was once again aglow with a
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phosphorescent light, and he felt the presence next to him
of something cold and clammy. Unable to look elsewhere, he
was again compelled to gaze in the mirror, where he saw,
to his consternation and horror, no Harriot, but in his place,
the man with the bronzed face and bushy beard. He
had hardly recovered from the shock occasioned by this discovery
(38:29):
when the door surreptitiously opened and the figure of the
ape glided noiselessly in again, he was temporarily paralyzed, his
limbs losing all their power of action, and his tongue
cleaving to the roof of his mouth. The movements of
the phanfasm were entirely repetitionary of the previous night. Approaching
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the bed on all fours, it leaped on its victim,
the tragedy being accompanied this time by the most realistic
chokings and girls, to all of which Tristram was obliged
to listen in an agony of doubt and terror. The
drama ended, Tristram was overcome by a sudden fit of drowsiness, and,
(39:11):
sinking back on to his pillow, slept till broad daylight.
Anxious to question Harriet as to whether he too had
been a witness of the ghostly transaction, he touched him
lightly on the shoulder. There was no reply. He touched
him again, and still no answer. He touched him yet
a third time, and as there was still no response,
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he leaned over his shoulder and peered into his face.
Harriet was dead. This is the fourth death in that
bed within the last twelve months that I can swear
to the English doctor, remarked to Tristram as they walked
down the street together, and always from the same cause,
(39:54):
failure of the heart due to a sudden shock. If
you take my advice, you'll clear out of place. At once.
Tristram thought so too, But before he went, he had
a talk with the girl in the red stockings. I
can't tell you all I know, she said to him
as he kissed her. But I wouldn't sleep a night
(40:15):
in that room for a fortune, though I believe it's
quite safe if you keep on the right side of
the bed. I wish your friend had done so. He
was so handsome, and Tristram not a little hurt, let
go her hand and made arrangements for the funeral. And
is that all? I asked? As Tristram's material body paused,
(40:37):
it may be, was the reply. But that is why
I've come to you. Don't be gulled by Tristram into
any investigations in that house. Enthusiasm for his research work
makes him unconsciously callous, and if he once got you there,
he might, even against your better judgment, persuade you to
sleep on the left side. Good Night. I shook hands
(41:01):
with him, and he departed. The following evening, I heard
it all again from Tristram himself, the real Tristram, needless
to say, his concluding remarks differed essentially with unbounded cordiality.
He urged me to accompany him back again to the Bruges,
and I declined. He wrote to me afterwards to say
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that he had discovered the history of the house A
man a music hall artist. Answering to the description of
the figure in the bed had once lived there with
a performing ape an orangutang, and happening to annoy the animal.
One day the latter had killed him. The brute was
eventually shot. This experience of mine, Tristram added, is of
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greatest value, for it has thoroughly convinced me of one
thing at least, and that that apes have spirits. And
if that be so, so must all other kinds of animals.
Of course they must phanfasms of cat and baboon. A
sister of a well known author tells me there used
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to be a house called the Swallows, standing in two
acres of land close to a village near Basingstoke. In
eighteen forty a mister Bishop of Tring bought the house,
which had long stood empty, and went to live there.
In eighteen forty one, after being there a fortnight, two
servants gave notice to leave, stating that the place was
(42:32):
haunted by a large cat and a big baboon, which
they constantly saw stealing down the staircases and passages. They
also testified to hearing sounds as of somebody being strangled
proceeding from an empty attic near where they slept, and
of the screams and groans of a number of people
being horribly tortured in the cellars just underneath the deiry.
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On going to see what was the cause of the disturbances,
nothing was ever visible. By and by other members of
the household began to be harassed by similar manifestations. The
news spread through the village, and crowds of people came
to the house with lights and sticks to see if
they could witness anything. One night, at about twelve o'clock,
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when several of the watchers were stationed on guard in
the empty courtyard, they saw all the forms of a
huge cat and a baboon rise from the closed grating
of the large cellar under the old deary, rush past them,
and disappear in a dark angle of the walls. The
same figures were repeatedly seen afterwards by many other persons.
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Early in December of eighteen forty one, mister Bishop, hearing
fearful screams accompanied by deep and horse jabberings apparently coming
from the top of the house, rushed upstairs, whereupon all
was instantly silent, and he could discover nothing. After that,
mister Bishop set to work to get rid of the house,
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and was fortunate enough to find a purchaser, a retired colonel,
who was soon, however, scared out of it. This was
in eighteen forty two. It was soon after pulled down.
The ground was used for the erection of the cottages,
but the hauntings being transferred to them, they were speedily vacated,
and no one ever daring to inhabit them. They were
(44:19):
eventually demolished, the sight on which they stood being converted
into allotments. There were many theories as to the history
of the Swallows, one being that a highwayman known as
Steeplechase Jock, the son of a Scottish chieftain, had once
plied his trade there and murdered many people, whose bodies
were supposed to be buried somewhere on or near the premises.
(44:41):
He was said to have had a terrible, though decidedly unorthodox, ending,
falling into a vat of boiling tar a raving madman.
But what were the phanfasms of the ape and the cat?
Were they the earth bound spirits of the highwaymen and
his horse, or simply the spirits of two animals? Though
either theory is possible, I am inclined to favor the
(45:03):
former psychic Bears Edmund Lenthal. Swift, appointed in eighteen fourteen
keeper of the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London,
refers in an article in Notes and Queries eighteen sixty
to various unaccountable phenomena happening in the Tower during his
residence there. He says that one night, in the jewel office,
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one of the centuries was alarmed by a figure like
a huge bear, issuing from underneath the jewel room door.
He thrust at it with his bayonet, which, going right
through it, stuck in the doorway, whereupon he dropped it
in a fit, and was carried senseless to the guardroom.
When on the morrow mister Swift saw the soldier in
(45:46):
the guardroom, his fellow sentinel was also there, and the
latter testified to having seen his comrade before the alarm,
quiet and active, and in full possession of his faculties.
He was now so Mistie or Swift added, changed almost
beyond recognition, and died the following day. Mister George Offer,
(46:08):
in referring to this incident, alludes to queer noises having
been heard at the time the figure appeared. Presuming that
the sentinel was not the victim of a hallucination. The
question arises as to the kind of spirit that he saw.
The bear, judging by cases that have been told to me,
is by no means an uncommon occult phenomenon. The difficulty
(46:29):
is how to classify it, since upon no question appertaining
to the psychic can one dogmatize To quote from a
clever poem that appeared in the January number of the
Occult Review. To pretend one knows anything definite about the
immaterial world is all swank. At the most, we can
only speculate nothing, nothing whatsoever beyond the bar fact that
(46:54):
there are phenomena unaccountable by physical laws has yet been discovered.
All the time and energy and space that have been
devoted by scientists to the investigation of spiritualism and to
making tests and automatic writing, are, in my opinion, hopelessly futile.
No one who has ever really experienced spontaneous ghostly manifestations
(47:18):
could for one moment believe in the genuineness of the
phenomena produced at seances. They have never deceived me, and
I am of the opinion spirits cannot be convoked to
order either through a so called medium falling into a
so called trance through table turning, automatic writing, or anything else.
If a spirit comes, it will come either voluntarily or
(47:42):
in obedience to some unknown power, and certainly neither to
satisfy the curiosity of a crowd of sensation loving men
and women, nor to be analyzed by some cold, calculating,
presumptuous professor of physics, whose proper sphere is the laboratory,
but to proceed the phenomena of the Big Bear, provided
again it was really objective. May have been the phanfasm
(48:05):
of some prehistoric creature whose bones light and turred beneath
the tower, for we know the valley of the Thames
was infested with giant reptiles and quadrupeds of all kinds.
Or it may have been a vice elemental, or the
phantasm of a human being who lived a purely animal life,
and whose spirit would naturally take the form most closely
(48:26):
resembling it. Judging by the number of experiences related to me,
hauntings by phantom hares and rabbits would appear to be
far from uncommon. There is this difference, however, between the
hauntings by the two species of an animal. Phantom hairs
usually pretend death or some grave catastrophe, either to the
(48:46):
witness himself or to someone immediately associated with him, whereas
phantom rabbits are seldom prophetic and may generally be looked
upon as merely the earth bound spirits of some poor
rabbits that have met with untimely ends. Hauntings by a
white rabbit, Mister W. T. Steed, in his Real Ghost Stories,
(49:07):
gives an account of the hauntings by a phantom rabbit
and a house in Blank Road. He does not, however,
mention any locality. After describing several of the phenomena which
disturbed various occupants of the place, he goes on to say,
in the language of missus A who narrates the incidents,
a dog which lay on the rug, also heard the sounds,
(49:29):
for he pricked up his ears and barked. Without a
moment's delay. She flew to the door, calling the dog
to follow her, intending as she did so, to open
the hall door and call for assistance. But the dog,
though an excellent house dog, crouched at her feet and whined,
but would not follow her up the stairs. So she
carried him up in her arms, and, reaching the door,
(49:51):
called for assistance. When However, the dining room doors were open.
The rooms were in perfect quiet and destitute of any
signs of life. The behavior of the dog here accords
exactly with the behavior of dogs I have had in
haunted houses, and substantiates my theory that dogs are excellent
psychic barometers. After the family had been in the house
(50:14):
a few weeks, a white rabbit made its appearance. This
uncanny animal would suddenly appear in a room in which
members of the family were seated, and, after gliding round
and slipping under chairs and tables, would disappear through a
brick wall as easily as through an open door. This
is the invariable trick of ghosts. They seldom, however, open doors.
(50:36):
Missus A adds, some years now have elapsed since the
incident I have now related took place, and again, in
response to orders given by the enterprising landlord of the property,
long closed doors and windows have been thrown open, and
painters and paper hangers have brought in their skill to
bear upon gruesome rooms and halls. The house is once
(50:58):
more inhabited, this time by a widow lady and some
grown up sons. These tenants come from a distance and
are entirely strangers both to the neighborhood and the former
history of the house. But to use her own words,
the mistress cannot understand what ails the house. Her sons
insist on sleeping together in one room, and the quiet
(51:18):
of the house is constantly being broken by the erratic
appearances of a large white rabbit, which inmates are frequently
engaged chasing, but are never able to find. Mister Steed
offers no explanation. I can see no other conclusion, however,
than that this ghost was the actual phantasm of some
(51:38):
rabbit that had been done to death in the house,
probably by the boy whose apparition was among the other
manifestations seen there John Wesley's Ghost. During the extraordinary manifestations
which occurred in the house of John Wesley at Epworth,
the phantom forms of two animals appeared, one being a
large white rabbit and the other animal like a badger,
(52:01):
which used to appear in the bedrooms and run about,
then disappear whilst the various bankings and rappings were at
their loudest. This is the only case I have ever
come across of the ghost of a badger. I think
it must be unique. Mister span adds. Many strange and
inexplicable things occurred in that house which were not due
(52:22):
to any natural calls or reason. I remember that loud
rappings used to sound round my room at nights, even
when I had a light burning. I was often awakened
by rappings on the floor of my bedroom, which would
then sound on the walls and furniture, and were heard
by others occupying rooms some distance off. This again is
(52:43):
most interesting, as ghosts seldom visit lighted rooms. Mister Span continues,
It was in the afternoon, in bright daylight when my
brother saw this mysterious animal. He was in the drawing
room alone, and as he was standing at one side
of the room looking at picture on the walls, he
heard a noise behind him, and found, on looking round,
(53:04):
that a sofa, which generally lay against one of the walls,
had been lifted by some unknown power into the middle
of the room. At the same time, he saw an
animal like a rabbit, run from under the sofa, across
the room and disappear into the wall. He searched everywhere
for the animal, which could not have escaped from the
room as the doors and window were closed, but was
(53:26):
unable to find any sign of one, or any hole
whereby one might have passed out. The psychic faculty in
hares and rabbits. Hares and rabbits are very susceptible to
the supervisical, the presence of which they scent in the
same manner as do horses and dogs. I have known
them to evince the greatest symptoms of terror when brought
(53:47):
into a haunted house. End of Chapter five
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