Apparitions; or, The Mystery of Ghosts, Hobgoblins, and Haunted Houses Developed Part 11

"It is not long since one of the female inhabitants of these frantic territories gave the following occasion for a very pleasing entertainment. Some bricklayers happened to be at work here, to repair and clean the pa.s.sage leading to the common sewer; who going to dinner, and leaving the ladder which descended to it, standing, the said unfortunate inhabitant had a sort of an odd notion, that the workmen had been prying into the secrets of the lower world, and therefore (n.o.body seeing her) she went down the ladder which led into the common sewer; and, in that subterraneous cavern, finding none to control or stop her pa.s.sage, she travelled, with great pleasure and curiosity, till she came to _Tokenhouse Yard_, which is near half a mile. There it happened that a couple of young females, coming to the vault, heard a noise below, crying, '_Who the plague are ye? What d'ye make that noise for? What, is the devil in ye?_' Upon which, away flew the women, not staying to look behind them; and coming half-frightened into the house, said, the devil was in the vault. Accordingly, more company going, they still heard the same noise. Upon which they called out, and asked, '_Who's there? What are ye?_' '_The Devil_,' replied the traveller below. '_How came you there?_' said they. '_Nay, how the devil know I?_' answered the mad-woman. '_Why don't you bring me a candle, that I may find my way?_'

Finding it certain to be a human voice, they feared somebody might accidentally have fallen in, and therefore they immediately went to work, to deliver the poor wretch from her suffocating thraldom, and found her a lamentable spectacle; so that they began to question her how she came there, and where she lived. She answered _that she was going to h.e.l.l, but had lost her way; that there were several in her company, who had got thither, and the gate was shut upon them; that she had lost her way, but should overtake them by and by_. These wild expressions made some of them fancy she was a mad-woman; and, after some consideration, they resolved to bring her hither; when she was presently owned, and the people that brought her let us into the story: but her head still runs on her journey, and she talks of little else."

THE MILKMAN

AND

_CHURCH-YARD GHOST_.

A man much addicted to the heinous sin of drunkenness, in coming home late one winter's night, had to cross Stepney church-yard; where, close to the foot path, a deep grave had been opened the day before. He, being very drunk, staggered into the grave; it was a great mercy he did not break his neck, or any of his limbs; but, as it rained hard all night, and the grave was so deep that he could not got out, he had but an uncomfortable bed. For some hours n.o.body pa.s.sed by; till, shortly after the clock had struck four, a milkman, who had been to the cow-house for his milk, came by, and said to himself, "I wonder what o'clock it is."

The man in the grave hallooed out, "Just gone four." The milkman seeing n.o.body, immediately conceived a ghost from one of the graves had answered him, and took to his heels with such rapidity, that when he reached an ale-house he was ready to faint; and, what added to his trouble, in running, he so jumbled his pails as to spill great part of his milk. The people who heard his relation, believed it must have been a ghost that had answered him. The tale went round, and would have been credited, perhaps, till now, had not the drunkard, sitting one day in the very alehouse the milkman had stopped at, on hearing the story repeated, with a hearty laugh acknowledged himself to be the ghost, and that he had much enjoyed the jumbling of the man's pails, as he ran away, and the loss which it occasioned him.

THE

FAKENHAM GHOST.

The lawns were dry in Euston Park; (Here truth inspires my tale) The lonely footpath, still and dark, Led over hill and dale.

Benighted was an ancient dame, And fearful haste she made To gain the vale of Fakenham, And hail its willow shade.

Her footsteps knew no idle stops, But follow'd faster still; And echo'd to the darksome copse That whisper'd on the hill.

Where clam'rous rooks, yet scarcely hush'd, Bespoke a peopled shade; And many a wing the foliage brush'd, And hov'ring circuits made.

The dappled herd of grazing deer, That sought the shades by day, Now started from her path with fear, And gave the stranger way.

Darker it grew; and darker fears Came o'er her troubled mind; When, now, a short quick step she hears Come patting close behind.

She turn'd; it stopt!--nought could she see Upon the gloomy plain!

But, as she strove the sprite to flee, She heard the same again.

Now terror seiz'd her quaking frame: For, where the path was bare, The trotting ghost kept on the same!

She mutter'd many a pray'r.

Yet once again, amidst her fright She tried what sight could do; When through the cheating glooms of night, A monster stood in view.

Regardless of whate'er she felt, It follow'd down the plain!

She own'd her sins, and down she knelt, And said her pray'rs again.

Then on she sped; and hope grew strong, The white park-gate in view, Which, pus.h.i.+ng hard, so long it swung, That ghost and all past through.

Loud fell the gate against the post, Her heart-strings like to crack, For much she fear'd the grisly ghost Would leap upon her back.

Still on, pat, pat, the goblin went, As it had done before; Her strength and resolution spent, She fainted at the door.

Out came her husband, much surpris'd, Out came her daughter dear; Good-natur'd souls, all unadvis'd Of what they had to fear.

The candle's gleam pierc'd through the night, Some short s.p.a.ce o'er the green; And there the little trotting sprite Distinctly might be seen.

An _a.s.s's foal_ had lost its dam Within the s.p.a.cious park, And, simple as the playful lamb, Had follow'd in the dark.

No goblin he, nor imp of sin, No crimes he'd ever known.

They took the s.h.a.ggy stranger in, And rear'd him as their own.

His little hoofs would rattle round Upon the cottage floor; The matron learn'd to love the sound, That frighten'd her before.

A favourite the ghost became, And 'twas his fate to thrive; And long he liv'd, and spread his fame, And kept the joke alive.

For many a laugh went through the vale, And some conviction too; Each thought some other goblin tale Perhaps was just as true.

THE

UNFORTUNATE PRIEST,

AND

_DEAD BODY_.

In a province of Prussia, a man being dead, was carried, as is customary, into the church, the evening previous to the day of his interment. It is usual to place the corpse in an open coffin; and a priest, attended only by a boy of the choir, remains all night praying by the side of the dead body, and on the following day the friends of the deceased come to close up the coffin, and inter the corpse. On this occasion, after the evening service had been performed, every one retired from the church: and the priest, with the young chorister, withdrew to supper; but soon returned, and the former commenced the usual prayers. What was his astonishment, when he beheld the dead body rise from the coffin, and advance towards him. Terrified in the extreme, the priest flew to the font; and, conjuring the corpse to return to its proper station, showered holy water on him in abundance. But the obstinate and evil-minded spirit, disregarding the power of holy water, seized the unfortunate priest, threw him to the ground, and soon, by repeated blows, left him extended, without life, on the pavement. Having committed this act of barbarity, he appeared to return quietly to his coffin. On the following morning, the persons who came to prepare for the funeral, found the priest murdered, and the corpse, as before, in the coffin. Nothing could throw any light on this extraordinary event but the testimony of the boy, who had concealed himself on the first movement of the dead body, and who persisted in declaring, that he saw from his hiding-place the priest killed by the corpse. Conjecture, and endeavours to discover the truth, were alike vain, tormenting, and fruitless. Many resources were tried; for it was not every one that submitted themselves to the belief of a dead body rising to kill a priest, and then quietly resigning itself to the place of its consignment. Many years afterwards, a malefactor, condemned to death for various crimes, and brought to the torture, confessed, that having (for some unknown reason) conceived an implacable hatred against the priest in question, he had formed the design of thus avenging himself. Having found means to remain in the church, he seized the moment of the priest's retiring to supper, withdrew the dead body from the coffin, and placed himself in its stead, in the shroud and other appurtenances.

After executing the murder of the priest, he returned the corpse to its place, and got unperceived out of the church, when the friends of the deceased came in the morning to attend the funeral.

THE

VIGIL OF SAINT MARK,

OR

_FATAL SUPERSt.i.tION_.

Rebecca was the fairest maid That on the Danube's borders play'd; And many a handsome n.o.bleman For her in tilt and tourney ran: While she, in secret, wished to see What youth her husband was to be.

Rebecca heard the gossips say, "Alone, from dusk till midnight, stay Within the church-porch drear and dark, Upon the Vigil of St. Mark; And, lovely maiden, you shall see What youth your husband is to be."