True Irish Ghost Stories

Each story keeps the passage it was read from. Open one to read the passage as the book has it, and, where the companion has written its own telling, that too.

1. The Wedding-Night Tragedy of Charles Fort

   near Charles Fort · townland · Cork · 1667–1758

   Shortly after Charles Fort near Kinsale was erected in 1667, its governor shot dead a man asleep at a sentry post, not knowing it was the bridegroom Sir Trevor Ashurst, who had swapped places with a sentry fetching flowers for his bride. The bride flung herself from the battlements on learning her husband's fate, and the governor shot himself that night. A variant account names the governor as Browne, shooting his own son around 150 years before 1908.

   Read the passage

   Charles Fort was erected in 1667 by the Duke of Ormonde. It is said to be haunted by a ghost known as the "White Lady," and the traditional account of the reason for this haunting is briefly as follows: Shortly after the erection of the fort, a Colonel Warrender, a severe disciplinarian, was appointed its governor. He had a daughter, who bore the quaint Christian name of "Wilful"; she became engaged to a Sir Trevor Ashurst, and subsequently married him. On the evening of their wedding-day the bride and bridegroom were walking on the battlements, when she espied some flowers growing on the rocks beneath. She expressed a wish for them, and a sentry posted close by volunteered to climb down for them, provided Sir Trevor took his place during his absence. He assented, and took the soldier's coat and musket while he went in search of a rope. Having obtained one, he commenced his descent; but the task proving longer than he expected, Sir Trevor fell asleep. Meantime the governor visited the sentries, as was his custom, and in the course of his rounds came to where Sir Trevor was asleep. He challenged him, and on receiving no answer perceived that he was asleep, whereupon he drew a pistol and shot him through the heart. The body was brought in, and it was only then the governor realised what had happened. The bride, who appears to have gone indoors before the tragedy occurred, then learned the fate that befell her husband, and in her distraction, rushed from the house and flung herself over the battlements. In despair at the double tragedy, her father shot himself during the night.

   The above is from Dr. Craig's book already alluded to. In the _Wide World Magazine_ the legend differs slightly in details. According to this the governor's name was Browne, and it was his own son, not his son-in-law, that he shot; while the incident is said to have occurred about a hundred and fifty years ago.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter III

   As the companion tells it

   Somewhere close to Charles Fort stands the fort the Duke of Ormonde erected in 1667. They say it is haunted by a ghost called the White Lady, and the story behind that is a wedding-night tragedy. A Colonel Warrender, a severe disciplinarian, was appointed governor shortly after the fort was built. He had a daughter with the quaint name of Wilful. She became engaged to Sir Trevor Ashurst and married him. On the evening of their wedding day, the bride and bridegroom were walking on the battlements, and she saw flowers growing on the rocks below. She said she wanted them. A sentry posted close by volunteered to climb down for them, provided Sir Trevor took his place while he was gone. Sir Trevor agreed, took the soldier's coat and musket, and the sentry went to find a rope. He got one and began his descent, but the task took longer than expected, and Sir Trevor fell asleep. The governor visited the sentries, as was his custom, and came to where Sir Trevor stood asleep. He challenged him, got no answer, saw he was asleep, drew a pistol, and shot him through the heart. The body was brought in, and only then did the governor realise what he had done. The bride had gone indoors before the tragedy. She learned her husband's fate, rushed from the house, and flung herself over the battlements. In despair at the double tragedy, her father shot himself during the night. There is a variant account. In that version the governor's name was Browne, and it was his own son he shot, not his son-in-law, and the incident is said to have occurred about 150 years before 1908.

2. Aibhill the Banshee of Craglea Warns Brian Boru

   near Killaloe · townland · Clare · 1014

   The ancient Banshee Aibhill, attached to the kingly house of O'Brien, haunted the rock of Craglea above Killaloe. On the night before the Battle of Clontarf in 1014, she appeared to King Brian Boru to warn him of his impending death.

   Read the passage

   Of all Irish ghosts, fairies, or bogles, the Banshee (sometimes called locally the "Boh[-e][-e]ntha" or "Bank[-e][-e]ntha") is the best known to the general public: indeed, cross-Channel visitors would class her with pigs, potatoes, and other fauna and flora of Ireland, and would expect her to make manifest her presence to them as being one of the sights of the country. She is a spirit with a lengthy pedigree--how lengthy no man can say, as its roots go back into the dim, mysterious past. The most famous Banshee of ancient times was that attached to the kingly house of O'Brien, Aibhill, who haunted the rock of Craglea above Killaloe, near the old palace of Kincora. In A.D. 1014 was fought the battle of Clontarf, from which the aged king, Brian Boru, knew that he would never come away alive, for the previous night Aibhill had appeared to him to tell him of his impending fate. The Banshee's method of foretelling death in olden times differed from that adopted by her at the present day: now she wails and wrings her hands, as a general rule, but in the old Irish tales she is to be found washing human heads and limbs, or bloodstained clothes, till the water is all dyed with human blood--this would take place before a battle. So it would seem that in the course of centuries her attributes and characteristics have changed somewhat.

   Very different descriptions are given of her personal appearance. Sometimes she is young and beautiful, sometimes old and of a fearsome appearance. One writer describes her as "a tall, thin woman with uncovered head, and long hair that floated round her shoulders, attired in something which seemed either a loose white cloak, or a sheet thrown hastily around her, uttering piercing cries." Another person, a coachman, saw her one evening sitting on a stile in the yard; she seemed to be a very small woman, with blue eyes, long light hair, and wearing a red cloak. Other descriptions will be found in this chapter. By the way, it does not seem to be true that the Banshee exclusively follows families of Irish descent, for the last incident had reference to the death of a member of a Co. Galway family English by name and origin.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VII

3. Anne Tottenham and the Cloven-Footed Stranger of Loftus Hall

   Loftushall · townland · Wexford · 1750–1868

   About the middle of the eighteenth century at Loftus Hall in County Wexford, Anne Tottenham lost her reason after a mysterious young horseman — revealed in legend to have a cloven foot — vanished from her life, and she was confined in the tapestry chamber until she died there. The room remained haunted for generations, with sleepers attacked by a growling weight, bedclothes torn away, and a tall lady in stiff brocaded silk seen crossing to the closet where Anne was said to be buried, incidents attested from 1790 to 1868.

   Read the passage

   "The fact is but too true, she became a confirmed maniac, and had to be confined for the rest of her life in the tapestried chamber before mentioned, and in which she died. A strange legend was at once invented to account for this calamity: it tells how the horseman proved such an agreeable acquisition that he was invited to remain some days, and made himself quite at home, and as they were now four in number whist was proposed in the evenings. The stranger, however, with Anne as his partner, invariably won every point; the old couple never had the smallest success. One night, when poor Anne was in great delight at winning so constantly, she dropped a ring on the floor, and, suddenly diving under the table to recover it, was terrified to see that her agreeable partner had an unmistakably cloven foot. Her screams made him aware of her discovery, and he at once vanished in a thunder-clap leaving a brimstone smell behind him. The poor girl never recovered from the shock, lapsed from one fit into another, and was carried to the tapestry room from which she never came forth alive.

   "This story of his Satanic majesty got abroad, and many tales are told of how he continued to visit and disturb the house. The noises, the apparitions, and disturbances were innumerable, and greatly distressed old Charles Tottenham, his wife, and servants. It is said that they finally determined to call in the services of their parish priest, a Father Broders, who, armed with all the exorcisms of the Church, succeeded in confining the operations of the evil spirit to one room--the tapestry room.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IX

4. The Murdered Children of the North-Side Square

   Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1814

   Around a century before 1914, an officer's wife and two children took a house in a well-known square on Dublin's north side. Both children were found in the nursery with their throats cut; the murderer was never caught, the mother went mad, and two little heads are said to appear at the window of the room.

   Read the passage

   The following strange and pathetic incident occurred in a well-known Square in the north side of the city. In or about a hundred years ago a young officer was ordered to Dublin, and took a house there for himself and his family. He sent on his wife and two children, intending to join them in the course of a few days. When the latter and the nurse arrived, they found only the old charwoman in the house, and she left shortly after their arrival. Finding that something was needed, the nurse went out to purchase it. On her return she asked the mother were the children all right, as she had seen two ghostly forms flit past her on the door-step! The mother answered that she believed they were, but on going up to the nursery they found both the children with their throats cut. The murderer was never brought to justice, and no motive was ever discovered for the crime. The unfortunate mother went mad, and it is said that an eerie feeling still clings to the house, while two little heads are sometimes seen at the window of the room where the deed was committed.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

   As the companion tells it

   Somewhere around here, in a well-known square on the north side of the city, something terrible happened around 1814. A young officer was ordered to Dublin and took a house for his family. He sent on his wife and two children, intending to join them in a few days. When the mother and the nurse arrived, only an old charwoman was in the house, and she left shortly after. The nurse went out to buy something, and on her return she saw two ghostly forms flit past her on the door-step. She asked the mother if the children were all right, and the mother believed they were. But when they went up to the nursery, they found both children with their throats cut. The murderer was never brought to justice, and no motive was ever discovered. The mother went mad, and it is said that two little heads are still sometimes seen at the window of the room where the deed was done.

5. The Devil in the Whiskey Jar at Ardtrea Rectory

   Artrea · townland · Tyrone · 1819

   Thomas Meredith, D.D., rector of Ardtrea near Cookstown, died on 2nd May 1819 of 'a sudden and awful visitation', which local legend attributes to a ghost that haunted the rectory. Told to shoot it with a silver bullet, he was found dead at his hall-door the next morning while a hideous devil-like object shrieked from the windows; a priest later trapped the spirit in a whisky jar, which was buried in the rectory cellar where it can still be heard calling to be let out.

   Read the passage

   In the Parish Church of Ardtrea, near Cookstown, is a marble monument and inscription in memory of Thomas Meredith, D.D., who had been a Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, and for six years rector of the parish. He died, according to the words of the inscription, on 2nd May 1819, as a result of "a sudden and awful visitation." A local legend explains this "visitation," by stating that a ghost haunted the rectory, the visits of which had caused his family and servants to leave the house. The rector had tried to shoot it but failed; then he was told to use a silver bullet; he did so, and next morning was found dead at his hall-door while a hideous object like a devil made horrid noises out of any window the servant man approached. This man was advised by some Roman Catholic neighbours to get the priest, who would "lay" the thing. The priest arrived, and with the help of a jar of whisky the ghost became quite civil, till the last glass in the jar, which the priest was about to empty out for himself, whereupon the ghost or devil made himself as thin and long as a Lough Neagh eel, and slipped himself into the jar to get the last drops. But the priest put the cork into its place and hammered it in, and, making the sign of the Cross on it, he had the evil thing secured. It was buried in the cellar of the rectory, where on some nights it can still be heard calling to be let out.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IX

6. The White Lady of Charles Fort

   near Charles Fort · townland · Cork

   Charles Fort near Kinsale is said to be haunted by the White Lady, the ghost of the bride who died on her wedding night. Fort-Major Black followed a white-clad lady upstairs to an empty room, a child saw her smiling over the banisters, and about 1880 Captain Marvell Hull and Lieutenant Hartland saw a corpse-pale woman in white pass through a locked door. The presence also violently threw Surgeon L. and Captain Jarves down flights of stairs.

   Read the passage

   One night, about the year 1880, Captain Marvell Hull and Lieutenant Hartland were going to the rooms occupied by the former officer. As they reached a small landing they saw distinctly in front of them a woman in a white dress. As they stood there in awestruck silence she turned and looked towards them, showing a face beautiful enough, but colourless as a corpse, and then passed on through a locked door.

   But it appears that this presence did not always manifest itself in as harmless a manner. Some years ago Surgeon L---- was quartered at the fort. One day he had been out snipe-shooting, and as he entered the fort the mess-bugle rang out. He hastened to his rooms to dress, but as he failed to put in an appearance at mess, one of the officers went in search of him, and found him lying senseless on the floor. When he recovered consciousness he related his experience. He said he had stooped down for the key of his door, which he had placed for safety under the mat; when in this position he felt himself violently dragged across the hall, and flung down a flight of steps. With this agrees somewhat the experience of a Captain Jarves, as related by him to Captain Marvell Hull. Attracted by a strange rattling noise in his bedroom, he endeavoured to open the door of it, but found it seemingly locked. Suspecting a hoax, he called out, whereupon a gust of wind passed him, and some unseen power flung him down the stairs, and laid him senseless at the bottom.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter III

   As the companion tells it

   Somewhere around here stands Charles Fort, near Kinsale, said to be haunted by the White Lady, the ghost of a bride who died on her wedding night. About 1880, Captain Marvell Hull and Lieutenant Hartland were going to Hull's rooms. They reached a small landing and saw in front of them a woman in a white dress. She turned and looked towards them, showing a face beautiful enough, but colourless as a corpse, and then passed on through a locked door. But this presence did not always show itself so harmlessly. Surgeon L was quartered at the fort. One day he had been out snipe-shooting, and as he entered the fort the mess-bugle rang out. He hastened to his rooms to dress, but failed to appear at mess. One of the officers went in search of him and found him lying senseless on the floor. When he recovered consciousness he told what had happened. He had stooped down for the key of his door, which he had placed for safety under the mat. In that position he felt himself violently dragged across the hall and flung down a flight of steps. Captain Jarves told a similar account to Captain Hull. He was attracted by a strange rattling noise in his bedroom. He tried to open the door but found it seemingly locked. Suspecting a hoax, he called out. A gust of wind passed him, and some unseen power flung him down the stairs and laid him senseless at the bottom.

7. The Haunted House of Drogheda

   Drogheda · townland · Louth · 1890

   A tailor and his wife rented a haunted house in Drogheda around 1890, where an invisible force kicked out their candle, a ghostly woman in white struck the wife, and their children and nurse were violently attacked upstairs, with the nurse later dying of her injuries. The tenants refused to pay rent and lost their court case, though it was shown the house had a long reputation for haunting.

   Read the passage

   This house, which was reputed to be haunted, was let to a tailor and his wife by the owner at an annual rent of £23. They took possession in due course, but after a very few days they became aware of the presence of a most unpleasant supernatural lodger. One night, as the tailor and his wife were preparing to retire, they were terrified at seeing the foot of some invisible person kick the candlestick off the table, and so quench the candle. Although it was a very dark night, and the shutters were closed, the man and his wife could see everything in the room just as well as if it were the middle of the day. All at once a woman entered the room, dressed in white, carrying something in her hand, which she threw at the tailor's wife, striking her with some violence, and then vanished. While this was taking place on the first floor, a most frightful noise was going on overhead in the room where the children and their nurse were sleeping. The father immediately rushed upstairs, and found to his horror the floor all torn up, the furniture broken, and, worst of all, the children lying senseless and naked on the bed, and having the appearance of having been severely beaten. As he was leaving the room with the children in his arms he suddenly remembered that he had not seen the nurse, so he turned back with the intention of bringing her downstairs, but could find her nowhere. The girl, half-dead with fright, and very much bruised, had fled to her mother's house, where she died in a few days in agony.

   Because of these occurrences they were legally advised to refuse to pay any rent. The landlady, however, declining to release them from their bargain, at once claimed a quarter's rent; and when this remained for some time unpaid, sued them for it before Judge Kisby. A Drogheda solicitor appeared for the tenants, who, having given evidence of the facts concerning the ghost in question, asked leave to support their sworn testimony by that of several other people. This, however, was disallowed by the judge. It was admitted by the landlady that nothing on one side or the other had been said regarding the haunting when the house was let. A judgment was consequently entered for the landlady, although it had been shown indirectly that unquestionably the house had had the reputation of being haunted, and that previous tenants had been much inconvenienced.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter II

   As the companion tells it

   Somewhere around here in Drogheda, around 1890, a tailor and his wife rented a house for £23 a year, not knowing it had a long reputation for being haunted. Within days of moving in, things turned violent. One night, as the couple prepared for bed, an invisible foot kicked the candle off the table, yet they could see everything in the room as clearly as midday. A woman dressed in white entered, threw something at the tailor's wife, struck her, and vanished. Upstairs, the children's nurse was sleeping with the children. The tailor rushed up to find the floor torn up, the furniture broken, and the children lying senseless and naked on the bed, looking as though they had been severely beaten. The nurse was gone. She had fled, half-dead with fright and badly bruised, to her mother's house, where she died a few days later in agony. The tenants refused to pay rent and were sued before Judge Kisby for a quarter's rent. Their solicitor presented evidence of the haunting and wanted to call further witnesses, but the judge disallowed it. The landlady admitted nothing had been said about the haunting when the house was let, though it was shown the house had a reputation for it and that previous tenants had been much inconvenienced. Judgment went against the tailor and his wife.

8. The Siege of the Mackeys at Lifford

   Lifford · townland · Donegal · 1680–1700

   In the late seventeenth century, soldiers from Lifford were sent to arrest the sons of widow Sally Mackey for high treason; a fierce gunfight erupted at their cottage, which caught fire, killing the sons though Sally survived despite wounds and burns. A witness later experienced a spectral re-enactment of the musket fire, burning cottage, and cavalry at the same spot near Lifford.

   Read the passage

   "'The cottage home of the Mackeys was approached by a bridle-path, leading from the main road to Derry, which only permitted the military to approach in single file; they arrived there at midnight, and the first intimation the inmates had of danger was the barking, and then the shooting, of the collie dog. Possessing as they did several stand of arms, they opened fire on the soldiers as they came in view and killed and wounded several; it was the mother, Sally Mackey, who did the shooting, the sons loading the muskets. Whether the cottage went on fire by accident or design was never known; it was only when the firing from the cottage ceased and the door was forced open that the officer in command rushed in and brought out the prostrate form of the lady, who was severely wounded and burned. All the sons perished, but the soldiers suffered severely, a good many being killed and wounded.

   "'The firing was heard by the sentries at Lifford, and a troop of cavalry was despatched to the scene of conflict, but only arrived in time to see the heroine dragged from the burning cottage. She had not, however, been fatally wounded, and lived for many years afterwards with a kinsmen. My father remembered conversing with old men, when he was a boy, who remembered her well. She seemed to take a delight in narrating incidents of the fight to those who came to visit her, and would always finish up by making them feel the pellets between the skin and her ribs.'"

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

9. The Charlie and the Woman Who Woke in Her Grave

   Donnybrook · townland · Dublin · 1800–1830

   During a severe epidemic in early nineteenth-century Dublin, a woman was hastily buried after being mistaken for dead. A night watchman fled in terror when she sat up and spoke to him from her grave, and she then made her own way home to Merrion Square, alive.

   Read the passage

   Our first story, which is sent us by Mr. De Lacy of Dublin, deals with an incident that occurred in the early part of last century. An epidemic which was then rife in the city was each day taking its toll of the unhappy citizens. The wife of a man living in Merrion Square was stricken down and hastily buried in a churchyard in Donnybrook which is now closed. On the night after the funeral one of the city police, or "Charlies" as they were then called, passed through the churchyard on his rounds. When nearing the centre he was alarmed to hear a sound coming from a grave close at hand, and turning, saw a white apparition sit up and address him. This was all he waited for; with a shriek he dropped his lantern and staff and made off as fast as his legs would carry him. The apparition thereupon took up the lamp and staff, and walked to Merrion Square to the house of mourning, was admitted by the servants, and to the joy of the whole household was found to be the object of their grief returned, Alcestis-like, from the grave. It seems that the epidemic was so bad that the bodies of the victims were interred hastily and without much care: the unfortunate lady had really been in a state of coma or trance, and as the grave was lightly covered, when she came to she was able to force her way up, and seeing the "Charlie" passing, she called for assistance.

   Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter X

   As the companion tells it

   Somewhere around here in Donnybrook, there was once a churchyard, now closed, where a strange thing happened in the early part of the last century. A severe epidemic was taking lives in Dublin each day, and the wife of a man from Merrion Square was struck down and hastily buried here. The burials were so rushed that bodies were interred without much care. On the night after the funeral, one of the city police, called "Charlies" then, passed through the churchyard on his rounds. He heard a sound from a grave close at hand, and turned to see a white figure sit up and speak to him. He dropped his lantern and staff with a shriek and ran off as fast as he could. The figure picked up the lamp and staff and walked home to Merrion Square, to the house of mourning. She was admitted by the servants, and to the joy of the household she was the woman they had been grieving, returned from the grave. She had not been dead at all, only in a trance, and because the grave was lightly covered she was able to force her way up and call for help.

10. The Derrygonelly Farmhouse Poltergeist

    Derrygonnelly · townland · Fermanagh

    At a farmer's cottage two miles from Derrygonelly, County Fermanagh, rappings, scratchings, and the movement of objects by an unseen agent centred on the bedroom of the eldest daughter, Maggie; an open Bible weighted with a stone was moved and seventeen pages torn out, and lamps were repeatedly taken. Professor Barrett personally investigated, observed loud knockings with all occupants motionless, and received the exact number of raps he asked for mentally four times. The disturbances ceased after the Rev. Maxwell Close read Scripture and the Lord's Prayer in the house.

    Read the passage

    The next case related by Professor Barrett occurred in County Fermanagh, at a spot eleven miles from Enniskillen and about two miles from the hamlet of Derrygonelly, where there dwelt a farmer and his family of four girls and a boy, of whom the eldest was a girl of about twenty years of age named Maggie. His cottage consisted of three rooms, the kitchen, or dwelling-room, being in the centre, with a room on each side used as bedrooms. In one of these two rooms Maggie slept with her sisters, and it was here that the disturbances occurred, generally after they had all gone to bed, when rappings and scratchings were heard which often lasted all night. Rats were first blamed, but when things were moved by some unseen agent, and boots and candles thrown out of the house, it was seen that something more than the ordinary rat was at work. The old farmer, who was a Methodist, sought advice from his class leader, and by his directions laid an open Bible on the bed in the haunted room, placing a big stone on the book. But the stone was lifted off by an unseen hand, the Bible moved out of the room, and seventeen pages torn out of it. They could not keep a lamp or candle in the house, so they went to their neighbours for help, and, to quote the old farmer's words to Professor Barrett, "Jack Flanigan came and lent us a lamp, saying the devil himself would not steal it, as he had got the priest to sprinkle it with holy water." "But that," the old man said, "did us no good either, for the next day it took away that lamp also."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IV

11. The Ghost at Strabane Railway Station

    Strabane · townland · Tyrone · 1913

    In October 1913, engine-cleaners at Strabane railway station were terrorised on two successive nights by a knocking, yelling apparition of a heavily built man that a signalman tried unsuccessfully to strike with a crowbar. Seven witnesses saw the ghost, and a murder was said to have occurred near the spot previously.

    Read the passage

    Mr. Joseph M'Crossan, a journalist on the staff of the _Strabane Chronicle_, has sent us a cutting from that paper describing a ghost which appeared to men working in an engine-house at Strabane railway station on two successive nights in October 1913. The article depicts very graphically the antics of the ghost and the fear of the men who saw it. Mr. M'Crossan interviewed one of these men (Pinkerton by name), and the story as told in his words is as follows: "Michael Madden, Fred Oliphant, and I were engaged inside a shed cleaning engines, when, at half-past twelve (midnight), a knocking came to all the doors, and continued without interruption, accompanied by unearthly yells. The three of us went to one of the doors, and saw--I could swear to it without doubt--the form of a man of heavy build. I thought I was about to faint. My hair stood high on my head. We all squealed for help, when the watchman and signalman came fast to our aid. Armed with a crowbar, the signalman made a dash at the 'spirit,' but was unable to strike down the ghost, which hovered about our shed till half-past two. It was moonlight, and we saw it plainly. There was no imagination on our part. We three cleaners climbed up the engine, and hid on the roof of the engine, lying there till morning at our wit's end. The next night it came at half-past one. Oliphant approached the spirit within two yards, but he then collapsed, the ghost uttering terrible yells. I commenced work, but the spirit 'gazed' into my face, and I fell forward against the engine. Seven of us saw the ghost this time. Our clothes and everything in the shed were tossed and thrown about."

    The other engine-cleaners were interviewed and corroborated Pinkerton's account. One of them stated that he saw the ghost run up and down a ladder leading to a water tank and disappear into it, while the signalman described how he struck at the ghost with a crowbar, but the weapon seemed to go through it. The spirit finally took his departure through the window.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

12. The House Where No Tenant Stays: Madness and a Hanged Cook

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1874

    A semi-detached Dublin house was let and abandoned roughly every six months for years. Its recorded history included an owner who went suddenly mad, a cook found hanged from a hook in a room behind the kitchen, a caretaker driven mad overnight, and a tenant who preferred paying five years' rent to living in it; boarders left saying only that they did not like the rooms.

    Read the passage

    "About forty years ago the house was left by will to a gentleman named ----. He lived in it for a short time, when he suddenly went mad, and had to be put in an asylum. Upon this his agents let the house to a lady. Apparently nothing unusual happened for some time, but a few months later, as she went down one morning to a room behind the kitchen, she found the cook hanging by a rope attached to a hook in the ceiling. After the inquest the lady gave up the house.

    "It was then closed up for some time, but was again advertised 'To let,' and a caretaker, a woman, was put into it. One night about one o'clock, a constable going his rounds heard some one calling for help from the house, and found the caretaker on the sill of one of the windows holding on as best she could. He told her to go in and open the hall door and let him in, but she refused to enter the room again. He forced open the door and succeeded in dragging the woman back into the room, only to find she had gone mad.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here stands a house that drew its reputation over years of tenants who would not stay. About 1874 the house was left by will to a gentleman who lived in it briefly before he went suddenly mad and was placed in an asylum. His agents then let it to a lady, and for a few months nothing seemed wrong, until one morning she went down to a room behind the kitchen and found the cook hanging by a rope from a hook in the ceiling. After the inquest the lady gave up the house. It was closed for a time, then advertised again, and a woman was put in as caretaker. One night around one o'clock a constable on his rounds heard someone calling for help from inside. He found the caretaker clinging to a window sill, refusing to go back into the room. He forced the door open and dragged her inside, only to find she had gone mad.

13. The Wizard Earl's Fatal Transformation at Kilkea Castle

    Kilkea · townland · Kildare · 1585

    Gerald ('Garrett oge') Fitzgerald, 11th Earl of Kildare, who died in 1585 and was interred in St. Brigid's Cathedral, Kildare, was known as 'the Wizard Earl' for practising the black art. After his Countess passed three trials of courage at Kilkea Castle — including a flood of the river Greese and the apparition of a dead friend — he transformed into a black bird; when she swooned in fear at a black cat's attack, he vanished and she never saw him again.

    Read the passage

    Lord Walter Fitzgerald sends us the following: "Garrett oge" (or Gerald the younger) "Fitzgerald, 11th Earl of Kildare, died in London on the 16th November 1585; his body was brought back to Ireland and interred in St. Brigid's Cathedral, in Kildare. He was known as 'the Wizard Earl' on account of his practising the black art, whereby he was enabled to transform himself into other shapes, either bird or beast according to his choice; so notorious was his supernatural power that he became the terror of the countryside.

    "His wife, the Countess, had long wished to see some proof of his skill, and had frequently begged him to transform himself before her, but he had steadily refused to do so, as he said if he did and she became afraid, he would be taken from her, and she would never see him again. Still she persisted, and at last he said he would do as she wished on condition that she should first of all undergo three trials to test her courage; to this she willingly agreed. In the first trial the river Greese, which flows past the castle walls, at a sign from the Earl overflowed its banks and flooded the banqueting hall in which the Earl and Countess were sitting. She showed no sign of fear, and at the Earl's command the river receded to its normal course. At the second trial a huge eel-like monster appeared, which entered by one of the windows, crawled about among the furniture of the banqueting hall, and finally coiled itself round the body of the Countess. Still she showed no fear, and at a nod from the Earl the animal uncoiled itself and disappeared. In the third test an intimate friend of the Countess, long since dead, entered the room, and passing slowly by her went out at the other end. She showed not the slightest sign of fear, and the Earl felt satisfied that he could place his fate in her keeping, but he again warned her of his danger if she lost her presence of mind while he was in another shape. He then turned himself into a black bird, flew about the room, and perching on the Countess's shoulder commenced to sing. Suddenly a black cat appeared from under a chest, and made a spring at the bird; in an agony of fear for its safety the Countess threw up her arms to protect it and swooned away. When she came to she was alone, the bird and the cat had disappeared, and she never saw the Earl again."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IX

14. Vision of the Killarney Boat Wreck

    Killarney · townland · Kerry · 1902

    During a storm on Lough Leane, a woman saw a vision of an overturned, empty boat which no one else present could see, despite searching with a telescope. Hours later thirteen people drowned when a boat capsized off Darby's Garden.

    Read the passage

    "The day wore on, and evening came. The incident was apparently more or less forgotten by all but me, until at 8 A.M. on the following morning, when the maid brought up tea, her first words were, 'Ah, miss, is it not terrible about the accident!' Naturally I said, 'What accident, Mary?' She replied, 'There were thirteen people drowned yesterday evening out of a four-oared boat.' That proved that the boat I had seen at 12.30 P.M. was a vision foreshadowing the wreck of the boat off Darby's Garden at 5.30 P.M. The position, shape, and size of the boat seen by me were identical with the one that was lost on the evening of May 18, 1902."

    The second story relates how a lady witnessed a vision (shall we call it) of a suicide a week before the terrible deed was committed. This incident surely makes it clear that such cannot be looked upon as special interventions of Providence, for if the lady had recognised the man, she might have prevented his rash act. Mrs. MacAlpine says: "In June 1889, I drove to Castleblaney, in Co. Monaghan, to meet my sister: I expected her at three o'clock, but as she did not come by that train, I put up the horse and went for a walk in the demesne. At length becoming tired, I sat down on a rock by the edge of a lake. My attention was quite taken up with the beauty of the scene before me, as it was a glorious summer's day. Presently I felt a cold chill creep through me, and a curious stiffness came over my limbs, as if I could not move, though wishing to do so. I felt frightened, yet chained to the spot, and as if impelled to stare at the water straight before me. Gradually a black cloud seemed to rise, and in the midst of it I saw a tall man, in a tweed suit, jump into the water, and sink. In a moment the darkness was gone, and I again became sensible of the heat and sunshine, but I was awed, and felt eerie. This happened about June 25, and on July 3 a Mr.----, a bank clerk, committed suicide by drowning himself in the lake.[8]"

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VI

15. The Gormanstown Foxes Gather for a Dying Viscount

    Gormanston · townland · Meath · 1860–1907

    When the head of the Preston family is dying, real foxes leave the coverts and congregate at Gormanstown Castle. They barked and howled beneath the window of the dying 12th Viscount in 1860, appeared again at the death of the 13th Viscount in 1876, and in 1907 gathered at the chapel where the 14th Viscount's body lay, snuffling and scratching at the doors through the night.

    Read the passage

    But of all the death-warnings in connection with Irish families surely the strangest is the Gormanstown foxes. The crest of that noble family is a running fox, while the same animal also forms one of the supporters of the coat-of-arms. The story is, that when the head of the house is dying the foxes--not spectral foxes, but creatures of flesh and blood--leave the coverts and congregate at Gormanstown Castle.

    Let us see what proof there is of this. When Jenico, the 12th Viscount, was dying in 1860, foxes were seen about the house and moving towards the house for some days previously. Just before his death three foxes were playing about and making a noise close to the house, and just in front of the "cloisters," which are yew-trees planted and trained in that shape. The Hon. Mrs. Farrell states as regards the same that the foxes came in pairs into the demesne, and sat under the Viscount's bedroom window, and barked and howled all night. Next morning they were to be found crouching about in the grass in front and around the house. They walked through the poultry and never touched them. After the funeral they disappeared.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VII

16. Lord Tirawley's Mysterious Departure

    Tirawley · townland · Mayo

    A wild and reckless Lord Tirawley was visited by a mysterious stranger who reformed his behaviour for a time, but on the anniversary of the visit each year he grew anxious. Eventually the stranger returned with a ghostly coach, drew a ship on the wall which became solid, and Lord Tirawley sailed away into the night, never to be seen again.

    Read the passage

    A legend of the Tirawley family relates how a former Lord Tirawley, who was a very wild and reckless man, was taken from this world. One evening, it is said, just as the nobleman was preparing for a night's carouse, a carriage drove up to his door, a stranger asked to see him and, after a long private conversation, drove away as mysteriously as he had come. Whatever words had passed they had a wonderful effect on the gay lord, for his ways were immediately changed, and he lived the life of a reformed man. As time went on the effect of whatever awful warning the mysterious visitor had given him wore off, and he began to live a life even more wild and reckless than before. On the anniversary of the visit he was anxious and gloomy, but he tried to make light of it. The day passed, and at night there was high revelry in the banqueting hall. Outside it was wet and stormy, when just before midnight the sound of wheels was heard in the courtyard. All the riot stopped; the servants opened the door in fear and trembling: outside stood a huge dark coach with four black horses. The "fearful guest" entered and beckoned to Lord Tirawley, who followed him to a room off the hall. The friends, sobered by fear, saw through the door the stranger drawing a ship on the wall; the piece of wall then detached itself and the ship grew solid, the stranger climbed into it, and Lord Tirawley followed without a struggle. The vessel then sailed away into the night, and neither it nor its occupants were ever seen again.

    The above tale is a good example of how a legend will rise superior to the ordinary humdrum facts of life, for it strikes us at once that the gloomy spectre went to unnecessary trouble in constructing a ship, even though the task proved so simple to his gifted hands. But the coach was at the door, and surely it would have been less troublesome to have used it.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IX

17. The Enniscorthy Poltergeist

    Enniscorthy · townland · Wexford · 1910

    In a lodging house in Court Street, Enniscorthy, boarders were tormented nightly by a poltergeist that moved beds, pulled off bedclothes, and produced rapid rapping sounds. Investigators Murphy and Devereux witnessed bedclothes sliding off a lodger's bed and heard tapping increase to over a hundred beats a minute.

    Read the passage

    It was on July 4, 1910, that John Randall, who is a carpenter by trade, went to live at Enniscorthy, and took rooms with the Redmonds. In a signed statement, now in possession of Professor Barrett, he tells a graphic tale of what occurred each night during the three weeks he lodged in the house, and as a result of the poltergeist's attentions he lost three-quarters of a stone in weight. It was on the night of Thursday, July 7, that the first incident occurred, when the bedclothes were gently pulled off his bed. Of course he naturally thought it was a joke, and shouted to his companions to stop. As no one could explain what was happening, a match was struck, and the bedclothes were found to be at the window, from which the other bed (a large piece of furniture which ordinarily took two people to move) had been rolled just when the clothes had been taken off Randall's bed. Things were put straight and the light blown out, "but," Randall's account goes on to say, "it wasn't long until we heard some hammering in the room--tap-tap-tap-like. This lasted for a few minutes, getting quicker and quicker. When it got very quick, their bed started to move out across the room.... We then struck a match and got the lamp. We searched the room thoroughly, and could find nobody. Nobody had come in the door. We called the man of the house (Redmond); he came into the room, saw the bed, and told us to push it back and get into bed (he thought all the time one of us was playing the trick on the other). I said I wouldn't stay in the other bed by myself, so I got in with the others; we put out the light again, and it had only been a couple of minutes out when the bed ran out on the floor with the three of us. Richard struck a match again, and this time we all got up and put on our clothes; we had got a terrible fright and couldn't stick it any longer. We told the man of the house we would sit up in the room till daylight. During the time we were sitting in the room we could hear footsteps leaving the kitchen and coming up the stairs; it would stop on the landing outside the door, and wouldn't come into the room. The footsteps and noises continued through the house until daybreak."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IV

18. The Phantom Rat of Limerick

    Limerick · townland · Limerick

    A young man who died of unrequited love after being compared to a killed rat returned to haunt the girl who had spurned him, appearing nightly as a rat that bit her repeatedly. She was only freed from the haunting after fleeing Limerick by ship, when a huge screaming rat chased her to the quay before vanishing forever.

    Read the passage

    A story of a phantom rat, which comes from Limerick, is only one of many which show the popular Irish belief in hauntings by various animals. Many years ago, the legend runs, a young man was making frantic and unacceptable love to a girl. At last, one day when he was following her in the street, she turned on him and, pointing to a rat which some boys had just killed, said, "I'd as soon marry that rat as you." He took her cruel words so much to heart that he pined away and died. After his death the girl was haunted at night by a rat, and in spite of the constant watch of her mother and sisters she was more than once bitten. The priest was called in and could do nothing, so she determined to emigrate. A coasting vessel was about to start for Queenstown, and her friends, collecting what money they could, managed to get her on board. The ship had just cast off from the quay, when shouts and screams were heard up the street. The crowd scattered, and a huge rat with fiery eyes galloped down to the quay. It sat upon the edge screaming hate, sprang off, and did not reappear. After that, we are told, the girl was never again haunted.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IX

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, a young man once died of a broken heart after a girl he loved pointed to a dead rat in the street and said she would as soon marry that rat as him. He took her words so much to heart that he pined away and died. After his death she was haunted every night by a rat that bit her repeatedly, even though her mother and sisters kept constant watch. The priest was called in and could do nothing. Her friends gathered what money they could and got her on board a coasting vessel bound for Queenstown. The ship had just cast off from the quay when shouts and screams were heard up the street. The crowd scattered, and a huge rat with fiery eyes galloped down to the quay. It sat on the edge screaming hate, sprang off, and did not reappear. The girl was never haunted again.

19. The Skeleton Beneath the Floorboards

    Limerick · townland · Limerick

    A clergyman near Limerick city took a long-untenanted house and saw an old-fashioned lady vanish into a locked room on his first night. When workmen forced the room open, noises persisted until the floorboards were lifted and the skeleton of a child was discovered underneath.

    Read the passage

    Mr. T.J. Westropp, to whom we are indebted for so much material, sends a tale which used to be related by a relative of his, the Rev. Thomas Westropp, concerning experiences in a house not very far from the city of Limerick. When the latter was appointed to a certain parish he had some difficulty in finding a suitable house, but finally fixed on one which had been untenanted for many years, but had nevertheless been kept aired and in good repair, as a caretaker who lived close by used to come and look after it every day. The first night that the family settled there, as the clergyman was going upstairs he heard a footstep and the rustle of a dress, and as he stood aside a lady passed him, entered a door facing the stairs, and closed it after her. It was only then he realised that her dress was very old-fashioned, and that he had not been able to enter that particular room. Next day he got assistance from a carpenter, who, with another man, forced open the door. A mat of cobwebs fell as they did so, and the floor and windows were thick with dust. The men went across the room, and as the clergyman followed them he saw a small white bird flying round the ceiling; at his exclamation the men looked back and also saw it. It swooped, flew out of the door, and they did not see it again. After that the family were alarmed by hearing noises under the floor of that room every night. At length the clergyman had the boards taken up, and the skeleton of a child was found underneath. So old did the remains appear that the coroner did not deem it necessary to hold an inquest on them, so the rector buried them in the churchyard. Strange noises continued, as if some one were trying to force up the boards from underneath. Also a heavy ball was heard rolling down the stairs and striking against the study door. One night the two girls woke up screaming, and on the nurse running up to them, the elder said she had seen a great black dog with fiery eyes resting its paws on her bed. Her father ordered the servants to sit constantly with them in the evenings, but, notwithstanding the presence of two women in the nursery, the same thing occurred. The younger daughter was so scared that she never quite recovered. The family left the house immediately.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter III

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Limerick, a clergyman called the Reverend Thomas Westropp took a house that had stood empty for years, kept aired by a caretaker. On his first night, he heard a footstep and the rustle of a dress on the stairs, and an old-fashioned lady passed him, walked into a room facing the stairs, and closed the door behind her. He had never been able to open that room. The next day a carpenter and another man forced the door. Cobwebs fell, the floor and windows were thick with dust, and a small white bird flew round the ceiling. All three men saw it before it swooped out the door and vanished. Noises came from under the floor every night after that, until the clergyman had the boards lifted and the skeleton of a child was found beneath them. The bones were so old the coroner held no inquest, and the rector buried them in the churchyard. The noises did not stop. It sounded as if someone was trying to force the boards up from underneath. A heavy ball was heard rolling down the stairs and striking the study door. One night the two girls woke screaming, and the elder told the nurse she had seen a great black dog with fiery eyes resting its paws on her bed. The father ordered servants to sit with them every evening, but even with two women in the nursery the same thing happened again. The younger daughter never quite recovered, and the family left the house immediately. The story comes from T.J. Westropp, who recorded it from his relative's account.

20. The Death Coach at Ennistymon

    Ennistimon · townland · Clare · 1876

    A servant of the MacNamaras heard the rumbling of a phantom coach on the back avenue at Ennistymon at night and, recognizing it as the death coach, ran ahead opening gates before it. The next day Admiral Sir Burton Macnamara died in London.

    Read the passage

    On the night of December 11, 1876, a servant of the MacNamaras was going his rounds at Ennistymon, a beautiful spot in a wooded glen, with a broad stream falling in a series of cascades. In the dark he heard the rumbling of wheels on the back avenue, and, knowing from the hour and place that no mortal vehicle could be coming, concluded that it was the death coach, and ran on, opening the gates before it. He had just time to open the third gate, and throw himself on his face beside it, when he heard a coach go clanking past. On the following day Admiral Sir Burton Macnamara died in London.

    Mr. Westropp informs us that at sight or sound of this coach all gates should be thrown open, and then it will not stop at the house to call for a member of the family, but will only foretell the death of some relative at a distance. We hope our readers will carefully bear in mind this simple method of averting fate.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VII

21. The Ghost That Won a Lawsuit: Waldron v. Kiernan, 1885

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1884–1885

    In 1885 a Dublin solicitor's clerk named Waldron sued his neighbour Kiernan for £500 over damage to his house, which witnesses swore had been pelted nightly with stones from August 1884 to January 1885. Mrs. Waldron testified she cut a finger from a white hand thrust through a window pane, yet no finger or blood was found; twenty witnesses attested the haunting and the jury found for the defendant.

    Read the passage

    Mrs. Waldron, wife of the plaintiff, swore that one night she saw one of the panes of glass of a certain window cut through with a diamond, and a white hand inserted through the hole. She at once caught up a bill-hook and aimed a blow at the hand, cutting off one of the fingers. This finger could not be found, nor were any traces of blood seen.

    A servant of hers was sorely persecuted by noises and the sound of footsteps. Mr. Waldron, with the aid of detectives and policemen, endeavoured to find out the cause, but with no success. The witnesses in the case were closely cross-examined, but without shaking their testimony. The facts appeared to be proved, so the jury found for Kiernan, the defendant. At least twenty persons had testified on oath to the fact that the house had been known to have been haunted.[2]

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Dublin, back in 1885, a solicitor's clerk named Waldron took his neighbour Kiernan to court for £500, claiming damage to his house from stones pelted nightly from August 1884 to January 1885. Mrs. Waldron swore she saw a pane of glass cut through with a diamond and a white hand thrust through the hole, so she grabbed a bill-hook and cut off a finger, yet no finger or blood was ever found. Detectives and policemen tried to find the cause of the noises and footsteps that tormented the servant, but nothing turned up. Twenty witnesses swore on oath the house was haunted, and the jury found for Kiernan.

22. Stone-Throwing Spirits of Ballygowan

    Ballygowan · townland · Antrim · 1866

    In 1866, as recorded in the Larne Reporter, two families at Upper Ballygowan near Larne endured stones thrown into their houses by night and day; when a young man fired a musket at the unseen assailants, the reply was a peal of satanic laughter and a volley of stones and turf. Local explanation held that the families had taken stones from a ruined house once haunted by fairies to repair their own buildings, incensing the 'good people'.

    Read the passage

    Another similar story comes from the north of Ireland. In the year 1866 (as recorded in the _Larne Reporter_ of March 31 in that year), two families residing at Upper Ballygowan, near Larne, suffered a series of annoyances from having stones thrown into their houses both by night and by day. Their neighbours came in great numbers to sympathise with them in their affliction, and on one occasion, after a volley of stones had been poured into the house through the window, a young man who was present fired a musket in the direction of the mysterious assailants. The reply was a loud peal of satanic laughter, followed by a volley of stones and turf. On another occasion a heap of potatoes, which was in an inner apartment of one of the houses, was seen to be in commotion, and shortly afterwards its contents were hurled into the kitchen, where the inmates of the house, with some of their neighbours, were assembled.

    The explanation given by some people of this mysterious affair was as mysterious as the affair itself. It was said that many years before the occurrences which we have now related took place, the farmer who then occupied the premises in which they happened was greatly annoyed by mischievous tricks which were played upon him by a company of fairies who had a habit of holding their rendezvous in his house. The consequence was that this man had to leave the house, which for a long time stood a roofless ruin. After the lapse of many years, and when the story about the dilapidated fabric having been haunted had probably been forgotten, the people who then occupied the adjoining lands unfortunately took some of the stones of the old deserted mansion to repair their own buildings. At this the fairies, or "good people," were much incensed; and they vented their displeasure on the offender in the way we have described.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IV

23. The Clinking Chain on Kimmage Road

    Kimmage · townland · Dublin

    Two sisters walking home along a lonely stretch of the Kimmage Road heard the clink of an invisible chain pass close by them accompanied by a blast of air, leaving them terrified. The haunting was thought connected to an old woman murdered for her savings by a tramp near the spot.

    Read the passage

    An old woman, it seems, had been murdered for her savings by a tramp near the spot where this strange occurrence took place, and it is thought that there is a connection between the crime and the haunting of this part of the Kimmage Road. Whatever the explanation may be, the whole story bears every evidence of truth, and it would be hard for anyone to disprove it.

    Churchyards are generally considered to be the hunting-ground of all sorts and conditions of ghosts. People who would on all other occasions, when the necessity arises, prove themselves to be possessed of at any rate a normal amount of courage, turn pale and shiver at the thought of having to pass through a churchyard at dead of night. It may be some encouragement to such to state that out of a fairly large collection of accounts of haunted places, only one relates to a churchyard. The story is told by Mr. G. H. Millar of Edgeworthstown: "During the winter of 1875," he writes, "I attended a soiree about five miles from here. I was riding, and on my way home about 11.30 P.M. I had to pass by the old ruins and burial-ground of Abbeyshrule. The road led round by two sides of the churchyard. It was a bright moonlight night, and as my girth broke I was walking the horse quite slowly. As I passed the ruin, I saw what I took to be a policeman in a long overcoat; he was walking from the centre of the churchyard towards the corner, and, as far as I could see, would be at the corner by the time I would reach it, and we would meet. Quite suddenly, however, he disappeared, and I could see no trace of him. Soon after I overtook a man who had left the meeting long before me. I expressed wonder that he had not been farther on, and he explained that he went a 'round-about' way to avoid passing the old abbey, as he did not want to see 'The Monk.' On questioning him, he told me that a monk was often seen in the churchyard."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

24. The Faked Haunting at Passage East

    Passage East · townland · Waterford · 1892

    An evicted farm caretaker near Passage East was plagued by furniture and crockery thrown about, later followed by knocking that persisted even after the family moved to Waterford. Investigation revealed the son was staging the disturbances at his mother's instigation to force the father to give up his unpopular emergency-man post.

    Read the passage

    Poltergeistic phenomena from their very nature lend themselves to spurious reproduction and imitation, as witness the famous case of Cock Lane and many other similar stories. At least one well-known case occurred in Ireland, and is interesting as showing that where fraud is at work, close investigation will discover it. It is related that an old Royal Irish Constabulary pensioner, who obtained a post as emergency man during the land troubles, and who in 1892 was in charge of an evicted farm in the Passage East district, was being continually disturbed by furniture and crockery being thrown about in a mysterious manner. Reports were brought to the police, and they investigated the matter; but nothing was heard or seen beyond knocking on an inside wall of a bedroom in which one of the sons was sleeping; this knocking ceased when the police were in the bedroom, and no search was made in the boy's bed to see if he had a stick. The police therefore could find no explanation, the noises continued night after night, and eventually the family left and went to live in Waterford. A great furore was raised when it was learnt that the hauntings had followed them, and again investigation was made, but it seems to have been more careful this time: an eye was kept on the movements of the young son, and at least two independent witnesses saw him throwing things about--fireirons and jam-pots--when he thought his father was not looking. It seems to have been a plot between the mother and son owing to the former's dislike to her husband's occupation, which entailed great unpopularity and considerable personal risk. Fearing for her own and her family's safety, the wife conceived of this plan to force her husband to give up his post. Her efforts were successful, as the man soon resigned his position and went to live elsewhere.[7]

    [Footnote 7: _Proceedings_, S.P.R.]

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IV

25. The Ghost of Henry Bennett at Wallstown Castle

    Wallstown · townland · Cork · 1642

    During the 1642 siege of Wallstown Castle by Cromwellian troops, defender Henry Bennett was killed. His ghost, dressed in light clothing and a white hat, was long seen about the ruined castle, playfully blocking travellers' paths with a pole before laughing and withdrawing it.

    Read the passage

    In 1642 Wallstown Castle, the seat of the Wall family, in County Cork, was burnt down by the Cromwellian troops, and Colonel Wall, the head of the family, was captured and imprisoned in Cork jail, where he died. One of the defenders during the siege was a man named Henry Bennett, who was killed while fighting. His ghost was often seen about the place for years after his death. His dress was of a light colour, and he wore a white hat, while in his hand he carried a pole, which he used to place across the road near the Castle to stop travellers; on a polite request to remove the pole he would withdraw it, and laugh heartily. A caretaker in the place named Philip Coughlan used frequently to be visited by this apparition. He came generally about supper time, and while Coughlan and his wife were seated at table he would shove the pole through the window; Coughlan would beg him to go away and not interfere with a poor hard-worked man; the pole would then be withdrawn, with a hearty laugh from the ghost.

    In the Parish Church of Ardtrea, near Cookstown, is a marble monument and inscription in memory of Thomas Meredith, D.D., who had been a Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, and for six years rector of the parish. He died, according to the words of the inscription, on 2nd May 1819, as a result of "a sudden and awful visitation." A local legend explains this "visitation," by stating that a ghost haunted the rectory, the visits of which had caused his family and servants to leave the house. The rector had tried to shoot it but failed; then he was told to use a silver bullet; he did so, and next morning was found dead at his hall-door while a hideous object like a devil made horrid noises out of any window the servant man approached. This man was advised by some Roman Catholic neighbours to get the priest, who would "lay" the thing. The priest arrived, and with the help of a jar of whisky the ghost became quite civil, till the last glass in the jar, which the priest was about to empty out for himself, whereupon the ghost or devil made himself as thin and long as a Lough Neagh eel, and slipped himself into the jar to get the last drops. But the priest put the cork into its place and hammered it in, and, making the sign of the Cross on it, he had the evil thing secured. It was buried in the cellar of the rectory, where on some nights it can still be heard calling to be let out.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IX

26. The Evil Face at the Schoolroom Curtains

    Dublin · townland · Dublin

    A curate of a Dublin parish, whose home lay out of town towards Malahide, used to sleep in the parish schoolroom after evening meetings. One moonlit night, alone in the locked schoolhouse, he watched unseen hands grope along his bed-curtains until they parted and an evil face peered in; he searched the room, found no one, and never slept there again.

    Read the passage

    A truly terrifying sight was witnessed by a clergyman in a school-house a good many years ago. This cleric was curate of a Dublin parish, but resided with his parents some distance out of town in the direction of Malahide. It not infrequently happened that he had to hold meetings in the evenings, and on such occasions, as his home was so far away, and as the modern convenience of tramcars was not then known, he used to sleep in the schoolroom, a large bare room, where the meetings were held. He had made a sleeping-apartment for himself by placing a pole across one end of the room, on which he had rigged up two curtains which, when drawn together, met in the middle. One night he had been holding some meeting, and when everybody had left he locked up the empty schoolhouse, and went to bed. It was a bright moonlight night, and every object could be seen perfectly clearly. Scarcely had he got into bed when he became conscious of some invisible presence. Then he saw the curtains agitated at one end, as if hands were grasping them on the outside. In an agony of terror he watched these hands groping along outside the curtains till they reached the middle. The curtains were then drawn a little apart, and a Face peered in--an awful, evil Face, with an expression of wickedness and hate upon it which no words could describe. It looked at him for a few moments, then drew back again, and the curtains closed. The clergyman had sufficient courage left to leap out of bed and make a thorough examination of the room, but, as he expected, he found no one. He dressed himself as quickly as possible, walked home, and never again slept a night in that schoolroom.

    The following tale, sent by Mr. E. B. de Lacy, contains a most extraordinary and unsatisfactory element of mystery. He says: "When I was a boy I lived in the suburbs, and used to come in every morning to school in the city. My way lay through a certain street in which stood a very dismal semi-detached house, which, I might say, was closed up regularly about every six months. I would see new tenants coming into it, and then in a few months it would be 'To let' again. This went on for eight or nine years, and I often wondered what was the reason. On inquiring one day from a friend, I was told that it had the reputation of being haunted.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Dublin, a curate of a Dublin parish used to sleep in a schoolhouse after evening meetings. His parents lived out of town in the direction of Malahide, and tramcars were not yet known, so he made a bed for himself in the schoolroom. It was a large bare room. He put a pole across one end and hung two curtains on it, drawn together in the middle. One night, after a meeting, he locked up the empty schoolhouse and went to bed. It was a bright moonlight night, and he could see every object clearly. Scarcely had he got into bed when he became conscious of some invisible presence. Then he saw the curtains agitated at one end, as if hands were grasping them on the outside. He watched in an agony of terror as those hands groped along the curtains till they reached the middle. The curtains were drawn a little apart, and a Face peered in. It was an awful, evil Face, with an expression of wickedness and hate that no words could describe. It looked at him for a few moments, then drew back, and the curtains closed. He had courage enough to leap out of bed and search the room. He found no one. He dressed as quickly as he could, walked home, and never slept a night in that schoolroom again.

27. Vision of a Suicide Foreseen at Castleblayney

    Castleblayney · townland · Monaghan · 1889

    In June 1889 Mrs. MacAlpine, sitting by a lake in the demesne at Castleblayney, was seized by a cold chill and saw in a black cloud a tall man in a tweed suit jump into the water and sink. About a week later, on July 3, a bank clerk committed suicide by drowning himself in that lake.

    Read the passage

    The second story relates how a lady witnessed a vision (shall we call it) of a suicide a week before the terrible deed was committed. This incident surely makes it clear that such cannot be looked upon as special interventions of Providence, for if the lady had recognised the man, she might have prevented his rash act. Mrs. MacAlpine says: "In June 1889, I drove to Castleblaney, in Co. Monaghan, to meet my sister: I expected her at three o'clock, but as she did not come by that train, I put up the horse and went for a walk in the demesne. At length becoming tired, I sat down on a rock by the edge of a lake. My attention was quite taken up with the beauty of the scene before me, as it was a glorious summer's day. Presently I felt a cold chill creep through me, and a curious stiffness came over my limbs, as if I could not move, though wishing to do so. I felt frightened, yet chained to the spot, and as if impelled to stare at the water straight before me. Gradually a black cloud seemed to rise, and in the midst of it I saw a tall man, in a tweed suit, jump into the water, and sink. In a moment the darkness was gone, and I again became sensible of the heat and sunshine, but I was awed, and felt eerie. This happened about June 25, and on July 3 a Mr.----, a bank clerk, committed suicide by drowning himself in the lake.[8]"

    [Footnote 8: _Proceedings S.P.R._, x. 332.]

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VI

28. Archbishop Marsh Hunts for a Note in His Own Library

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1713

    Marsh's Library in Dublin is reputedly haunted by its founder, Primate Narcissus Marsh, who moves among the cases of the inner gallery taking down books. The story goes that his niece hid a note consenting to her elopement with the curate of Chapelizod in one of his books, and the Archbishop is condemned to hunt for it until he finds it.

    Read the passage

    Marsh's library, that quaint, old-world repository of ponderous tomes, is reputed to be haunted by the ghost of its founder, Primate Narcissus Marsh. He is said to frequent the inner gallery, which contains what was formerly his own private library: he moves in and out among the cases, taking down books from the shelves, and occasionally throwing them down on the reader's desk as if in anger. However, he always leaves things in perfect order. The late Mr. ----, who for some years lived in the librarian's rooms underneath, was a firm believer in this ghost, and said he frequently heard noises which could only be accounted for by the presence of a nocturnal visitor; the present tenant is more sceptical. The story goes that Marsh's niece eloped from the Palace, and was married in a tavern to the curate of Chapelizod. She is reported to have written a note consenting to the elopement, and to have then placed it in one of her uncle's books to which her lover had access, and where he found it. As a punishment for his lack of vigilance, the Archbishop is said to be condemned to hunt for the note until he find it--hence the ghost.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here is Marsh's Library, founded by Primate Narcissus Marsh, and they say he still walks here. In 1713 the story is that his niece eloped from the Palace and was married in a tavern to the curate of Chapelizod. She had written a note consenting to the elopement and placed it inside one of her uncle's books, where her lover found it. As punishment for his lack of vigilance, the Archbishop is condemned to hunt for that note until he finds it. His ghost is said to frequent the inner gallery, which was once his own private library, moving among the cases, taking down books from the shelves, sometimes throwing them down on the reader's desk as if in anger. He always leaves things in perfect order afterwards. A man who lived in the librarian's rooms underneath for some years was a firm believer in this ghost and said he frequently heard noises that could only be accounted for by a nocturnal visitor. The present tenant is more sceptical.

29. Corney, the Talking Ghost of the Coal-Cellar

    Dublin · townland · Dublin

    A Dublin family was plagued by a voice-throwing spirit called Corney who spoke daily from the coal-cellar, threw fish onto the kitchen floor, hid teaspoons, fouled the water tank, and frightened away would-be purchasers of the house. He said he had been a bad man who died in a named room of the house, and one person who saw him in material form died of fright.

    Read the passage

    A clergyman in the locality, having heard of the doings of Corney, called to investigate the matter. He was advised by Mrs. A---- to keep quiet, and not to reveal his identity, as being the best chance of hearing Corney speak. He waited a long time, and as the capricious Corney remained silent, he left at length. The servants asked, "Corney, why did you not speak?" and he replied, "I could not speak while that good man was in the house." The servants sometimes used to ask him where he was. He would reply, "The Great God would not permit me to tell you. I was a bad man, and I died the death." He named the room in the house in which he died.

    Corney constantly joined in any conversation carried on by the people of the house. One could never tell when a voice from the coal-cellar would erupt into the dialogue. He had his likes and dislikes: he appeared to dislike anyone that was not afraid of him, and would not talk to them. Mrs. C.'s mother, however, used to get good of him by coaxing. An uncle, having failed to get him to speak one night, took the kitchen poker, and hammered at the door of the coal-cellar, saying, "I'll make you speak"; but Corney wouldn't. Next morning the poker was found broken in two. This uncle used to wear spectacles, and Corney used to call him derisively, "Four-eyes." An uncle named Richard came to sleep one night, and complained in the morning that the clothes were pulled off him. Corney told the servants in great glee, "I slept on Master Richard's feet all night."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, a Dublin family was haunted by a voice-throwing spirit known as Corney, who spoke daily from the coal-cellar. He said he had been a bad man, that the Great God would not permit him to say where he was, and that he had died the death in a named room of the house. He joined in any conversation, erupting from the cellar without warning, and seemed to dislike anyone who was not afraid of him. A clergyman came to investigate, but Mrs. A advised him to keep quiet and not reveal his identity. Corney stayed silent the whole time. When the servants asked why, he said, "I could not speak while that good man was in the house." An uncle tried hammering at the cellar door with the kitchen poker, saying he would make Corney speak, but the spirit would not. The poker was found broken in two the next morning. Corney called this spectacle-wearing uncle "Four-eyes" in mockery. Another uncle named Richard slept one night and woke complaining the clothes had been pulled off him. Corney told the servants with great glee, "I slept on Master Richard's feet all night."

30. Ghosts Blamed for the Burned Banknotes of Armagh

    near Armagh · townland · Armagh · 1913

    A servant girl was tried for stealing £300 from the brother of her employer, Patrick McFaul of Armagh, after a fire left only ashes in the bedroom drawer where the money had been kept. The McFauls accepted the loss complacently, believing the money was destroyed by spiritual intervention as a ghostly warning against a marriage Michael McFaul was about to enter, though the accused had tried to change three £20 notes in Derry days later.

    Read the passage

    An account of a police-court trial which appeared in the _Irish Times_ of 31st December 1913 emphasizes in a very marked degree the extraordinary grip that superstition has over some of the country people. A young woman was on her trial for stealing £300 from the brother of her employer, Patrick McFaul of Armagh. District Inspector Lowndes, in opening the case for the Crown, told the bench that the money had been taken out of the bank by McFaul to buy a holding, for the purchase of which negotiations were going on. The money was carelessly thrown into a drawer in a bedroom, and left there till it would be wanted. A short time afterwards a fire broke out in the room, and a heap of ashes was all that was found in the drawer, though little else in the room besides a few clothes was injured. "The McFauls appeared to accept their loss with a complacency, which could only be accounted for by the idea they entertained that the money was destroyed through spiritual intervention--that there were ghosts in the question, and that the destruction of the money was to be taken as a warning directed against a matrimonial arrangement, into which Michael McFaul was about to enter." The accused girl was servant to the McFauls, who discharged her a few days after the fire: but before this she had been into Derry and spent a night there; during her stay she tried to change three £20 notes with the help of a friend. But change was refused, and she had to abandon the attempt. "If some of the money was burned, some of it was certainly in existence three days later, to the amount of £60. One thing was manifest, and that was that an incredible amount of superstition appeared to prevail amongst families in that neighbourhood when the loss of such a sum as this could be attributed to anything but larceny, and it could for a moment be suggested that it was due to spiritual intervention to indicate that a certain course should be abandoned."

    CONCLUSION

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter X

31. The Drowned Captain's Ghost Returns to Inishinny

    Inishinny · townland · Donegal

    After a captain and two sailors drowned attempting to return to their ship from the island of Inishinny during a storm, the captain's ghost, dressed exactly as in life, appeared at the door of a house where islanders were gathered, filling the doorway before vanishing when addressed.

    Read the passage

    "The island was only temporarily inhabited by a few people who had cattle and horses grazing there for some weeks in the year, and after this catastrophe they felt peculiarly lonely, and sought refuge from their thoughts by all spending the evening together in one house. This particular evening they were all seated round the fire having a chat, when they heard steps approaching the door. Though the approach was fine, soft sand, yet the steps were audible as if coming on hard ground. They knew there was no one on the island save the few who were sitting quietly round the fire, and so in eager expectation they faced round to the door. What was their _amazement_ when the door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man appeared and filled the whole doorway--and that man the captain who had been buried several days previously. He wore the identical suit in which he had often visited the island and even the "cheese-cutter" cap, so common a feature of sea-faring men's apparel, was not wanting. All were struck dumb with terror, and a woman who sat in a corner opposite the door, exclaimed in Irish in a low voice to my father:

    "'O God! Patrick, there's the captain.'

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VI

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Inishinny, a captain and two sailors drowned trying to get back to their ship during a storm. The island had only a few people on it temporarily, grazing cattle and horses, and after the drownings they all gathered together in one house for the evening. They were sitting round the fire when they heard footsteps approaching the door. The ground outside was soft sand, but the steps sounded like someone walking on hard ground. They knew no one else was on the island. The door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man filled the whole doorway. It was the captain, who had been buried several days before. He wore the identical suit he had worn when he visited the island alive, and even the cheese-cutter cap common to seafaring men. Everyone was struck dumb. A woman sitting opposite the door said in a low voice in Irish to her father, "O God! Patrick, there's the captain." Then he vanished.

32. The Fake Ghost of Thurles Demands Money for Heaven

    Thurles · townland · Tipperary · 1913

    Near Thurles, County Tipperary, a young widow was visited at night by a figure claiming to be her dead husband, who demanded ten pounds to enter heaven. When he returned to collect the money, police were waiting and arrested the fraudster.

    Read the passage

    An amusing account of a pseudo-haunting comes from County Tipperary, and shows how extraordinarily strong is the countryman's belief in supernatural phenomena. The incidents related occurred only a very short time ago. A farmer in the vicinity of Thurles died leaving behind him a young widow. The latter lived alone after her husband's death, and about three months after the funeral she was startled one night by loud knocking at the door. On opening the door she was shocked at seeing the outline of a man dressed in a shroud. In a solemn voice he asked her did she know who he was: on receiving a reply in the negative, he said that he was her late husband and that he wanted £10 to get into heaven. The terrified woman said she had not got the money, but promised to have it ready if he would call again the next night. The "apparition" agreed, then withdrew, and the distracted woman went to bed wondering how she was to raise the money. When morning came she did not take long in telling her friends of her experience, in the hope that they would be able to help her. Their advice, however, was that she should tell the police, and she did so. That night the "apparition" returned at the promised hour, and asked for his money. The amount was handed to him, and in a low sepulchral voice he said, "Now I leave this earth and go to heaven." Unfortunately, as he was leaving, a sergeant and a constable of the R.I. Constabulary stopped him, questioned him, and hauled him off to the barracks to spend the remainder of the night in the cell, where no doubt he decided that the haunting game has its trials.[14]

    [Footnote 14: _Evening Telegraph_ for Dec. 10, 1913.]

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter X

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, in 1913, a farmer died and left behind a young widow who lived alone. About three months after the funeral, she was startled one night by loud knocking at her door. When she opened it, she saw the outline of a man dressed in a shroud. In a solemn voice he asked her did she know who he was. She said she did not. He told her he was her late husband, and that he wanted ten pounds to get into heaven. The terrified woman said she had not got the money, but promised to have it ready if he would call again the next night. The apparition agreed and withdrew. She went to bed wondering how she was to raise the money. When morning came, she told her friends what had happened, hoping they could help her. Their advice was that she should tell the police, and she did so. That night the apparition returned at the promised hour and asked for his money. The amount was handed to him, and in a low voice he said, 'Now I leave this earth and go to heaven.' But as he was leaving, a sergeant and a constable of the Royal Irish Constabulary stopped him, questioned him, and hauled him off to the barracks to spend the remainder of the night in a cell, where no doubt he decided that the haunting game has its trials.

33. The Haunted House Lawsuit of Waldron v Kiernan

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1884–1885

    In 1885 a Dublin solicitor's clerk named Waldron sued his neighbour Kiernan for £500 in damages, claiming persecution, but Kiernan successfully argued that Waldron's own house was notoriously haunted. Witnesses described stones thrown at windows nightly for months and a white hand thrust through a cut pane of glass, and the jury found for the defendant.

    Read the passage

    Occasionally it happens that ghosts inspire a law-suit. In the seventeenth century they were to be found actively urging the adoption of legal proceedings, but in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries they play a more passive part. A case about a haunted house took place in Dublin in the year 1885, in which the ghost may be said to have won. A Mr. Waldron, a solicitor's clerk, sued his next-door neighbour, one Mr. Kiernan, a mate in the merchant service, to recover £500 for damages done to his house.

    Kiernan altogether denied the charges, but asserted that Waldron's house was notoriously haunted. Witnesses proved that every night, from August 1884 to January 1885, stones were thrown at the windows and doors, and extraordinary and inexplicable occurrences constantly took place.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter 2

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Dublin, a ghost once won a lawsuit. In 1885, a solicitor's clerk named Waldron sued his next-door neighbour Kiernan, a mate in the merchant service, for £500 in damages to his house. Kiernan denied the charges and claimed Waldron's house was notoriously haunted. Witnesses told the court that every night from August 1884 to January 1885, stones were thrown at the windows and doors, and extraordinary, inexplicable occurrences took place. The jury believed Kiernan, and found for the defendant.

34. The Poisoner's Ghost in Galway

    Galway · townland · Galway

    A lady staying in an old house in Galway was confronted by a diabolical old woman who appeared from behind a screen with no door, seized her hand, and threatened to drag her to Hell. The house had long carried a story that the apparition was of an old woman who had poisoned someone.

    Read the passage

    A lady, who requests that her name be suppressed, relates a strange sight seen by her sister in Galway. The latter's husband was stationed in that town about seventeen years ago. One afternoon he was out, and she was lying on a sofa in the drawing-room, when suddenly from behind a screen (where there was no door) came a little old woman, with a small shawl over her head and shoulders, such as the country women used to wear. She had a most diabolical expression on her face. She seized the lady by the hand, and said: "I will drag you down to Hell, where I am!" The lady sprang up in terror and shook her off, when the horrible creature again disappeared behind the screen. The house was an old one, and many stories were rife amongst the people about it, the one most to the point being that the apparition of an old woman, who was supposed to have poisoned someone, used to be seen therein. Needless to say, the lady in question never again sat by herself in the drawing-room.

    Two stories are told about haunted houses at Drogheda, the one by A.G. Bradley in _Notes on some Irish Superstitions_ (Drogheda, 1894), the other by F.G. Lee in _Sights and Shadows_ (p. 42). As both appear to be placed at the same date, _i.e._ 1890, it is quite possible that they refer to one and the same haunting, and we have so treated them accordingly. The reader, if he wishes, can test the matter for himself.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter II

35. The Shawled Woman of the Kingstown House

    Dunleary · townland · Dublin · 1873–1877

    In a very old, thick-walled house in Kingstown, a stooping woman wrapped in a woollen shawl appeared to a lady in July 1873, to her brother a fortnight later, and about four years afterwards to her sister's young son on the stairs. Professors W. Barrett and Henry Sidgwick investigated; a friend later revealed a woman had been killed in the house many years before.

    Read the passage

    A haunted house in Kingstown, Co. Dublin, was investigated by Professor W. Barrett and Professor Henry Sidgwick. The story is singularly well attested (as one might expect from its being inserted in the pages of the _Proceedings S.P.R._[3]), as the apparition was seen on three distinct occasions, and by three separate persons who were all personally known to the above gentlemen. The house in which the following occurrences took place is described as being a very old one, with unusually thick walls. The lady saw her strange visitant in her bedroom. She says: "Disliking cross-lights, I had got into the habit of having the blind of the back window drawn and the shutters closed at night, and of leaving the blind raised and the shutters opened towards the front, liking to see the trees and sky when I awakened. Opening my eyes now one morning, I saw right before me (this occurred in July 1873) the figure of a woman, stooping down and apparently looking at me. Her head and shoulders were wrapped in a common woollen shawl; her arms were folded, and they were also wrapped, as if for warmth, in the shawl. I looked at her in my horror, and dared not cry out lest I might move the awful thing to speech or action. Behind her head I saw the window and the growing dawn, the looking-glass upon the toilet-table, and the furniture in that part of the room. After what may have been only seconds--of the duration of this vision I cannot judge--she raised herself and went backwards towards the window, stood at the toilet-table, and gradually vanished. I mean she grew by degrees transparent, and that through the shawl and the grey dress she wore I saw the white muslin of the table-cover again, and at last saw that only in the place where she had stood." The lady lay motionless with terror until the servant came to call her. The only other occupants of the house at the time were her brother and the servant, to neither of whom did she make any mention of the circumstance, fearing that the former would laugh at her, and the latter give notice.

    [Footnote 3: July 1884, p. 141.]

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

36. The Headless Coach at the Westropp House

    Limerick · townland · Limerick · 1806

    As the family awaited a doctor for the dying Ralph Westropp in Co. Limerick, a huge dark coach rumbled into the courtyard and drove down the locked avenue before vanishing entirely, its rumbling ceasing at the locked gate. The sick man died a few hours later.

    Read the passage

    "At a house in Co. Limerick," writes Mr. T.J. Westropp, "occurred the remarkably-attested apparition of the headless coach in June 1806, when Mr. Ralph Westropp, my great-grandfather, lay dying. The story was told by his sons, John, William, and Ralph, to their respective children, who told it to me. They had sent for the doctor, and were awaiting his arrival in the dusk. As they sat on the steps they suddenly heard a heavy rumbling, and saw a huge dark coach drive into the paved court before the door. One of them went down to meet the doctor, but the coach swept past him, and drove down the avenue, which went straight between the fences and hedges to a gate. Two of the young men ran after the coach, which they could hear rumbling before them, and suddenly came full tilt against the avenue gate. The noise had stopped, and they were surprised at not finding the carriage. The gate proved to be locked, and when they at last awoke the lodge-keeper, he showed them the keys under his pillow; the doctor arrived a little later, but could do nothing, and the sick man died a few hours afterwards."

    Two other good stories come from Co. Clare. One night in April 1821, two servants were sitting up to receive a son of the family, Cornelius O'Callaghan, who had travelled in vain for his health, and was returning home. One of them, Halloran, said that the heavy rumble of a coach roused them. The other servant, Burke, stood on the top of the long flight of steps with a lamp, and sent Halloran down to open the carriage door. He reached out his hand to do so, saw a skeleton looking out, gave one yell, and fell in a heap. When the badly-scared Burke picked himself up there was no sign or sound of any coach. A little later the invalid arrived, so exhausted that he died suddenly in the early morning.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter 11

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, in June 1806, a strange coach appeared at the Westropp house. Ralph Westropp lay dying, and his family had sent for the doctor. They were waiting for him in the dusk, sitting on the steps, when they heard a heavy rumbling. A huge dark coach drove into the paved court before the door. One of them went down to meet the doctor, but the coach swept past him and drove on down the avenue, which ran straight between fences and hedges to a gate. Two of the young men ran after it. They could hear it rumbling ahead of them, and then they came full tilt against the avenue gate. The noise had stopped. They were surprised to find no carriage there. The gate proved to be locked, and when they at last awoke the lodge-keeper, he showed them the keys under his pillow. The doctor arrived a little later, but could do nothing. Ralph Westropp died a few hours afterwards. The story was told by his sons, John, William, and Ralph, to their respective children, who passed it on to T.J. Westropp, the great-grandson who recorded it. He called it a remarkably-attested apparition. The dark coach came with no head, no driver visible, and left no trace but the locked gate and the keys beneath a sleeping man's pillow.

37. House Built on an Ancient Graveyard near the Witch Trial Site

    near Island Magee · townland · Antrim

    A house near the locality famous for Ireland's last witchcraft trial was said to be haunted because it stood on the site of a disused ancient graveyard, where nine human skulls were unearthed during repairs. Strange noises, like cartloads of stones being run down a gable, were frequently heard.

    Read the passage

    A house in the North of Ireland, near that locality which is eternally famous as having furnished the material for the last trial for witchcraft in the country, is said to be haunted, the reason being that it is built on the site of a disused and very ancient graveyard. It is said that when some repairs were being carried out nine human skulls were unearthed. It would be interesting to ascertain how many houses in Ireland are traditionally said to be built on such unpleasant sites, and if they all bear the reputation of being haunted. The present writer knows of one, in the South, which is so situated (and this is supported, to a certain extent, by documentary evidence from the thirteenth century down) and which in consequence has an uncanny reputation. But concerning the above house it has been found almost impossible to get any information. It is said that strange noises were frequently heard there, which sometimes seemed as if cartloads of stones were being run down one of the gables. On one occasion an inmate of the house lay dying upstairs. A friend went up to see the sick person, and on proceeding to pass through the bedroom door was pressed and jostled as if by some unseen person hurriedly leaving the room. On entering, it was found that the sick person had just passed away.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter II

38. The Ghostly Dog of Rathfarnham Castle

    Rathfarnham · townland · Dublin · 1840–1841

    During the winter of 1840-41 a man drowned after the ice gave way beneath him while skating on the pond at Rathfarnham Castle, and his retriever dog died trying to save him. The dog's ghost is said to haunt the grounds and the road to Dodder Bridge.

    Read the passage

    In the winter of 1840-1, in the days when snow and ice and all their attendant pleasures were more often in evidence than in these degenerate days, a skating party was enjoying itself on the pond in the grounds of the Castle near Rathfarnham, Co. Dublin. Among the skaters was a man who had with him a very fine curly-coated retriever dog. The pond was thronged with people enjoying themselves, when suddenly the ice gave way beneath him, and the man fell into the water; the dog went to his rescue, and both were drowned. A monument was erected to perpetuate the memory of the dog's heroic self-sacrifice, but only the pedestal now remains. The ghost of the dog is said to haunt the grounds and the public road between the castle gate and the Dodder Bridge. Many people have seen the phantom dog, and the story is well known locally.

    The ghost of a boy who was murdered by a Romany is said to haunt one of the lodge gates of the Castle demesne, and the lodge-keeper states that he saw it only a short time ago. The Castle, however, is now in possession of Jesuit Fathers, and the Superior assures us that there has been no sign of a ghost for a long time, his explanation being that the place is so crowded out with new buildings "that even a ghost would have some difficulty in finding a comfortable corner."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

39. The Grand-Aunt's Prophetic Dream at Glasnevin

    Glasnevin · townland · Dublin · 1873

    A woman dreamt she saw her own name and an exact future date of death carved on a tombstone in Glasnevin cemetery. Exactly one year later she died, kneeling at her bedside, and was buried in Glasnevin under a stone bearing the very inscription from her dream.

    Read the passage

    "My grand-aunt was not very nervous, and soon the dream faded from her mind. Months rolled by, and one morning at breakfast it was noticed that my grand-aunt had not appeared, but as she was a very religious woman it was thought that she had gone out to church. However, as she did not appear my father sent someone to her room to see if she were there, and as no answer was given to repeated knocking the door was opened, and my grand-aunt was found kneeling at her bedside, dead. The day of her death was March 14, 1873, corresponding exactly with the date seen in her dream a twelvemonth before. My grand-aunt was buried in Glasnevin, and on her tombstone (a white marble slab) was placed the inscription which she had read in her dream." Our correspondent sent us a photograph of the stone and its inscription.

    The present Archdeacon of Limerick, Ven. J. A. Haydn, LL.D., sends the following experience: "In the year 1870 I was rector of the little rural parish of Chapel Russell. One autumn day the rain fell with a quiet, steady, and hopeless persistence from morning to night. Wearied at length from the gloom, and tired of reading and writing, I determined to walk to the church about half a mile away, and pass a half-hour playing the harmonium, returning for the lamp-light and tea.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VIII

    As the companion tells it

    Close to Glasnevin, somewhere around here, a woman dreamt she saw her own name carved on a tombstone, with an exact date of death. She was not a nervous person, and the dream faded from her mind as the months went by. Then one morning in March 1873 she did not come down to breakfast. Her family thought she had gone to church, she was a very religious woman, but when she did not appear someone was sent to her room. There was no answer to repeated knocking, so the door was opened, and she was found kneeling at her bedside, dead. The day was March 14, 1873, the exact date she had seen in her dream a twelvemonth before. She was buried in Glasnevin, and on her tombstone, a white marble slab, was placed the inscription she had read in her dream. A photograph of the stone and its inscription was sent to the authors of the book this story comes from. The person who told it called her simply my grand-aunt, and gave no more of her name than that.

40. The Restless Widow of Portarlington

    Portarlington · townland · Laois

    After a strong-minded farm mistress died near Portarlington, her house was plagued nightly by crashing crockery, banging doors, and heavy footsteps. Several tenants fled until a priest sealed her bedroom, and the disturbances ceased.

    Read the passage

    On a large farm near Portarlington there once lived a Mrs. ----, a strong-minded, capable woman, who managed all her affairs for herself, giving her orders, and taking none from anybody. In due time she died, and the property passed to the next-of-kin. As soon, however, as the funeral was over, the house was nightly disturbed by strange noises: people downstairs would hear rushings about in the upper rooms, banging of doors, and the sound of heavy footsteps. The cups and saucers used to fall off the dresser, and all the pots and pans would rattle.

    This went on for some time, till the people could stand it no longer, so they left the house and put in a herd and his family. The latter was driven away after he had been in the house a few weeks. This happened to several people, until at length a man named Mr. B---- took the house. The noises went on as before until some one suggested getting the priest in. Accordingly the priest came, and held a service in the late Mrs. ----'s bedroom. When this was over, the door of the room was locked. After that the noises were not heard till one evening Mr. B---- came home from a fair, fortified, no doubt, with a little "Dutch courage," and declared that even if the devil were in it he would go into the locked room. In spite of all his family could say or do, he burst open the door, and entered the room, but apparently saw nothing. That night pandemonium reigned in the house, the chairs were hurled about, the china was broken, and the most weird and uncanny sounds were heard. Next day the priest was sent for, the room again shut up, and nothing has happened from that day to this.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter III

41. The White Lady of Clonmel Lodge

    Clonmel · townland · Tipperary

    On the road outside Clonmel, a bank employee saw a girl in white with a black sash walk toward a bridge and vanish. He later learned a resident's daughter, who had dressed similarly, had died young and her ghost was frequently seen about the place.

    Read the passage

    The following story is sent us by Mr. J. J. Crowley, of the Munster and Leinster Bank, who writes as follows: "The scene is outside Clonmel, on the main road leading up to a nice old residence on the side of the mountains called ---- Lodge. I happened to be visiting my friends, two other bank men. It was night, about eight o'clock, moonless, and tolerably dark, and when within a quarter of a mile or perhaps less of a bridge over a small stream near the house I saw a girl, dressed in white, wearing a black sash and long flowing hair, walk in the direction from me up the culvert of the bridge and disappear down the other side. At the time I saw it I thought it most peculiar that I could distinguish a figure so far away, and thought a light of some sort must be falling on the girl, or that there were some people about and that some of them had struck a match. When I got to the place I looked about, but could find no person there.

    "I related this story to my friends some time after arriving, and was then told that one of them had wakened up in his sleep a few nights previously, and had seen an identical figure standing at the foot of his bed, and rushed in fright from his room, taking refuge for the night with the other lodger. They told the story to their landlady, and learned from her that this apparition had frequently been seen about the place, and was the spirit of one of her daughters who had died years previously rather young, and who, previous to her death, had gone about just as we described the figure we had seen. I had heard nothing of this story until after I had seen the ghost, and consequently it could not be put down to hallucination or over-imagination on my part."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, outside Clonmel, on the main road leading up to an old residence on the side of the mountains, a man had a strange encounter one night. Mr. J. J. Crowley, who worked at the Munster and Leinster Bank, was visiting two friends, also bank men, who lodged nearby. It was about eight o'clock at night, moonless and tolerably dark. When he was within a quarter of a mile, perhaps less, of a bridge over a small stream near the house, he saw a girl dressed in white, wearing a black sash, with long flowing hair. She walked away from him up the culvert of the bridge and disappeared down the other side. He thought it most peculiar that he could distinguish a figure so far away in the dark, and supposed a light of some sort must be falling on the girl, or that there were people about and one of them had struck a match. When he got to the place he looked about, but could find no person there. He told his friends the story some time after arriving. One of them said he had woken in his sleep a few nights previously and seen an identical figure standing at the foot of his bed. He had rushed from his room in fright and taken refuge for the night with the other lodger. They told the story to their landlady, who said this apparition had been seen frequently about the place. It was the spirit of one of her daughters who had died years previously, rather young, and who before her death had gone about dressed just as they described the figure they had seen. Crowley had heard nothing of this story until after he had seen the ghost.

42. Violent Attacks at Charles Fort

    Kinsale · townland · Cork · 1880

    At Charles Fort near Kinsale, Surgeon L---- was found unconscious after being violently dragged and flung down steps by an unseen force while retrieving his door key. Captain Jarves suffered a similar assault, thrown down a staircase by a mysterious gust of wind after hearing a rattling in his locked room.

    Read the passage

    But it appears that this presence did not always manifest itself in as harmless a manner. Some years ago Surgeon L---- was quartered at the fort. One day he had been out snipe-shooting, and as he entered the fort the mess-bugle rang out. He hastened to his rooms to dress, but as he failed to put in an appearance at mess, one of the officers went in search of him, and found him lying senseless on the floor. When he recovered consciousness he related his experience. He said he had stooped down for the key of his door, which he had placed for safety under the mat; when in this position he felt himself violently dragged across the hall, and flung down a flight of steps. With this agrees somewhat the experience of a Captain Jarves, as related by him to Captain Marvell Hull. Attracted by a strange rattling noise in his bedroom, he endeavoured to open the door of it, but found it seemingly locked. Suspecting a hoax, he called out, whereupon a gust of wind passed him, and some unseen power flung him down the stairs, and laid him senseless at the bottom.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter 4

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here stands Charles Fort, where the presence did not always show itself harmlessly. In 1880 a Surgeon L---- was quartered at the fort. He had been out snipe-shooting, and as he entered the fort the mess-bugle rang out. He hastened to his rooms to dress, but he failed to appear at mess. One of the officers went in search of him and found him lying senseless on the floor. When he recovered consciousness he related what had happened. He had stooped down for the key of his door, which he had placed under the mat for safety. While in that position he felt himself violently dragged across the hall and flung down a flight of steps. Captain Jarves had a similar experience, which he told to Captain Marvell Hull. Drawn by a strange rattling in his bedroom, he tried to open the door but found it seemingly locked. Suspecting a hoax, he called out. A gust of wind passed him, and some unseen power flung him down the stairs and laid him senseless at the bottom.

43. The Black Dog and the Fat-Hearted Corpse

    near Shannon Estuary · townland · Kerry

    At a house near the Shannon estuary in Co. Clare, formerly home to the D---- family, a large black dog was shot at by two men keeping watch but simply vanished, forcing the family to leave. Legend also told that a monk who loved a deceased daughter of the house had opened her coffin in the family vault and scooped the fat from around her heart.

    Read the passage

    Another house in Co. Clare, nearer the estuary of the Shannon, which was formerly the residence of the D---- family, but is now pulled down, had some extraordinary tales told about it in which facts (if we may use the word) were well supplemented by legend. To commence with the former. A lady writes: "My father and old Mr. D---- were first cousins. Richard D---- asked my father would he come and sit up with him one night, in order to see what might be seen. Both were particularly sober men. The annoyances in the house were becoming unbearable. Mrs. D----'s work-box used to be thrown down, the table-cloth would be whisked off the table, the fender and fireirons would be hurled about the room, and other similar things would happen. Mr. D---- and my father went up to one of the bedrooms, where a big fire was made up. They searched every part of the room carefully, but nothing uncanny was to be seen or found. They then placed two candles and a brace of pistols on a small table between them, and waited. Nothing happened for some time, till all of a sudden a large black dog walked out from under the bed. Both men fired, and the dog disappeared. That is all! The family had to leave the house."

    Now to the blending of fact with fiction, of which we have already spoken: the intelligent reader can decide in his own mind which is which. It was said that black magic had been practised in this house at one time, and that in consequence terrible and weird occurrences were quite the order of the day there. When being cooked, the hens used to scream and the mutton used to bleat in the pot. Black dogs were seen frequently. The beds used to be lifted up, and the occupants thereof used to be beaten black and blue, by invisible hands. One particularly ghoulish tale was told. It was said that a monk (!) was in love with one of the daughters of the house, who was an exceedingly fat girl. She died unmarried, and was buried in the family vault. Some time later the vault was again opened for an interment, and those who entered it found that Miss D----'s coffin had been disturbed, and the lid loosened. They then saw that all the fat around her heart had been scooped away.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter 4

44. The Scanlan Lights of Ballyknockane and Knockfierna

    Ballyknockane · townland · Limerick

    The family of Scanlan of Ballyknockane, Co. Limerick, is followed by mysterious lights seen at the death of a member — a pillar of fire with a radiated crown, rooms lit up brightly at night, and balls of fire on the hillside of Knockfierna. William Scanlan, J.P., saw the flames on the hill on the day of his aunt's death, and the lights last appeared in 1913 on the eve of the death of a Scanlan relative.

    Read the passage

    Such appears to be the traditional origin of the "Scanlan lights." Our correspondent adds: "These are always seen at the demise of a member of the family. We have ascertained that by the present head of the family (Scanlan of Ballyknockane) they were seen, first, as a pillar of fire with radiated crown at the top; and secondly, inside the house, by the room being lighted up brightly in the night. By other members of the family now living these lights have been seen in the shape of balls of fire of various sizes." The above was copied from a private manuscript written some few years ago. Our correspondent further states: "I also have met with four persons in this county [Limerick] who have seen the lights on Knockfierna near Ballyknockane before the death of a Scanlan, one of the four being the late head of the family and owner, William Scanlan, J.P., who saw the flames on the hill-side on the day of his aunt's death some years ago. The last occasion was as late as 1913, on the eve of the death of a Scanlan related to the present owner of Ballyknockane."

    In front of the residence of the G---- family in Co. Galway there is, or formerly was, a round ring of grass surrounded by a low evergreen hedge. The lady who related this story to our informant stated that one evening dinner was kept waiting for Mr. G----, who was absent in town on some business. She went out on the hall-door steps in order to see if the familiar trot of the carriage horses could be heard coming down the road. It was a bright moonlight night, and as she stood there she heard a child crying with a peculiar whining cry, and distinctly saw a small childlike figure running round and round the grass ring inside the evergreen hedge, and casting a shadow in the moonlight. Going into the house she casually mentioned this as a peculiar circumstance to Mrs. G----, upon which, to her great surprise, that lady nearly fainted, and got into a terrible state of nervousness. Recovering a little, she told her that this crying and figure were always heard and seen whenever any member met with an accident, or before a death. A messenger was immediately sent to meet Mr. G----, who was found lying senseless on the road, as the horses had taken fright and bolted, flinging him out, and breaking the carriage-pole.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VII

45. The Blackrock Banshee's Double Warning

    near Blackrock · townland · Cork · 1900

    In a Cork family's house at Blackrock, a young girl saw a white figure on a bridge waving toward the house and heard the wailing of the Banshee; the next morning her grandfather fell and fatally struck his head. Years later, the same wailing was heard around the mother's own deathbed.

    Read the passage

    A lady who is a relation of one of the compilers, and a member of a Co. Cork family of English descent, sends the two following experiences of a Banshee in her family. "My mother, when a young girl, was standing looking out of the window in their house at Blackrock, near Cork. She suddenly saw a white figure standing on a bridge which was easily visible from the house. The figure waved her arms towards the house, and my mother heard the bitter wailing of the Banshee. It lasted some seconds, and then the figure disappeared. Next morning my grandfather was walking as usual into the city of Cork. He accidentally fell, hit his head against the curbstone, and never recovered consciousness.

    "In March 1900, my mother was very ill, and one evening the nurse and I were with her arranging her bed. We suddenly heard the most extraordinary wailing, which seemed to come in waves round and under her bed. We naturally looked everywhere to try and find the cause, but in vain. The nurse and I looked at one another, but made no remark, as my mother did not seem to hear it. My sister was downstairs sitting with my father. She heard it, and thought some terrible thing had happened to her little boy, who was in bed upstairs. She rushed up, and found him sleeping quietly. My father did not hear it. In the house next door they heard it, and ran downstairs, thinking something had happened to the servant; but the latter at once said to them, 'Did you hear the Banshee? Mrs. P---- must be dying.'"

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VII

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, a Cork family of English descent had two encounters with the Banshee, both recorded in a book of true Irish ghost stories. When the mother of the family was a young girl, she was standing at the window of their house at Blackrock when she saw a white figure on a bridge, waving its arms toward the house. She heard the bitter wailing of the Banshee lasting some seconds before the figure disappeared. The next morning her grandfather was walking into the city of Cork as usual, fell, hit his head against the curbstone, and never recovered consciousness. Years later, in March 1900, the same mother was very ill. One evening the nurse and the daughter were arranging her bed when they heard extraordinary wailing coming in waves round and under the bed. They searched everywhere but found nothing. The mother did not seem to hear it. Downstairs the sister heard it too and rushed upstairs fearing something had happened to her little boy, but he was sleeping quietly. The father heard nothing. In the house next door they heard it as well and ran downstairs thinking something had happened to the servant. The servant said to them, "Did you hear the Banshee? Mrs. P---- must be dying."

46. The Fairy Path House at Portarlington

    Portarlington · townland · Laois

    A man near Portarlington built a house on what locals warned was a fairy path, ignoring their advice. From the first night, unseen hands threw and broke furniture and injured him, forcing him to abandon the house, which stood empty ever after.

    Read the passage

    Professor Barrett, in the paper to which we have already referred, draws certain conclusions from his study of this subject; one of the chief of these is that "the widespread belief in fairies, pixies, gnomes, brownies, etc., probably rests on the varied manifestations of poltergeists." The popular explanation of the above story bears out this conclusion, and it is further emphasized by the following, which comes from Portarlington: A man near that town had saved five hundred pounds, and determined to build a house with the money. He fixed on a certain spot, and began to build, very much against the advice of his friends, who said it was on a fairy path, and would bring him ill-luck. Soon the house was finished, and the owner moved in; but the very first night his troubles began, for some unseen hand threw the furniture about and broke it, while the man himself was injured. Being unwilling to lose the value of his money, he tried to make the best of things. But night after night the disturbances continued, and life in the house was impossible; the owner chose the better part of valour and left. No tenant has been found since, and the house stands empty, a silent testimony to the power of the poltergeist.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter IV

47. The Nun of the Blanchardstown Monastery House

    Blanchardstown · townland · Dublin

    A house near Blanchardstown, formerly a monastery with secret passages, was haunted by the apparition of a nun seen looking in at a kitchen window by a servant. The family living there noted that after nightfall no door could be kept closed, being flung open with violence unless left open, accompanied by light footsteps and a sense of unseen people passing.

    Read the passage

    Near Blanchardstown, Co. Dublin, is a house, occupied at present, or up to very recently, by a private family; it was formerly a monastery, and there are said to be secret passages in it. Once a servant ironing in the kitchen saw the figure of a nun approach the kitchen window and look in. Our informant was also told by a friend (now dead), who had it from the lady of the house, that once night falls, no doors can be kept closed. If anyone shuts them, almost immediately they are flung open again with the greatest violence and apparent anger. If left open there is no trouble or noise, but light footsteps are heard, and there is a vague feeling of people passing to and fro. The persons inhabiting the house are matter-of-fact, unimaginative people, who speak of this as if it were an everyday affair. "So long as we leave the doors unclosed they don't harm us: why should we be afraid of them?" Mrs. ---- said. Truly a most philosophical attitude to adopt!

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Blanchardstown there's a house that was once a monastery, said to have secret passages in it. A family living there had a servant ironing in the kitchen one day who saw the figure of a nun come up to the window and look in. But the stranger thing was what happened at night. Once it got dark, no door in the house could be kept closed. If anyone shut one, it would be flung open again almost immediately, with great violence and what seemed like anger. If they left the doors open, there was no trouble, but light footsteps could be heard, along with a sense of people passing to and fro. The family were matter-of-fact, unimaginative people who spoke of it as an everyday affair. The lady of the house told a friend, "So long as we leave the doors unclosed they don't harm us: why should we be afraid of them?"

48. The Phantom Coach on the Askeaton Road

    Askeaton · townland · Limerick

    Matthias Fitzgerald, coachman at Cappagh House, was driving by moonlight from Askeaton to Limerick when he heard an invisible carriage — wheels, hoofs, and jingling bits — follow him for a quarter of an hour before dashing past at a cross-road. Others reportedly had similar experiences on the same road.

    Read the passage

    The following personal experience of the phantom coach was given to the present writer by Mr. Matthias Fitzgerald, coachman to Miss Cooke, of Cappagh House, Co. Limerick. He stated that one moonlight night he was driving along the road from Askeaton to Limerick when he heard coming up behind him the roll of wheels, the clatter of horses' hoofs, and the jingling of the bits. He drew over to his own side to let this carriage pass, but nothing passed. He then looked back, but could see nothing, the road was perfectly bare and empty, though the sounds were perfectly audible. This continued for about a quarter of an hour or so, until he came to a cross-road, down one arm of which he had to turn. As he turned off he heard the phantom carriage dash by rapidly along the straight road. He stated that other persons had had similar experiences on the same road.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VIII

49. The Tinker's Ghost near a Leitrim Forge

    Leitrim · townland · Leitrim

    A party driving along a country road in County Leitrim saw a shabbily-dressed figure walking beside a girl before it dashed into a disused forge, frightening the horse. A local workman identified it as resembling a tinker found dead in the forge six months earlier.

    Read the passage

    The following story has been sent us by the Rev. H.R.B. Gillespie, to whom it was told by one of the witnesses of the incidents described therein. One bright moonlight night some time ago a party consisting of a man, his two daughters, and a friend were driving along a country road in County Leitrim. They came to a steep hill, and all except the driver got down to walk. One of the two sisters walked on in front, and after her came the other two, followed closely by the trap. They had not gone far, when those in rear saw a shabbily-dressed man walking beside the girl who was leading. But she did not seem to be taking any notice of him, and, wondering what he could be, they hastened to overtake her. But just when they were catching her up the figure suddenly dashed into the shadow of a disused forge, which stood by the side of the road, and as it did so the horse, which up to this had been perfectly quiet, reared up and became unmanageable. The girl beside whom the figure had walked had seen and heard nothing. The road was not bordered by trees or a high hedge, so that it could not have been some trick of the moonlight. One of the girls described the appearance of the figure to a local workman, who said, "It is very like a tinker who was found dead in that forge about six months ago."

    Here is another story of a haunted spot on a road, where a "ghost" was seen, not at the witching hour of night, not when evening shadows lengthen, but in broad daylight. It is sent to us by the percipient, a lady, who does not desire to have her name mentioned. She was walking along a country road in the vicinity of Cork one afternoon, and passed various people. She then saw coming towards her a country-woman dressed in an old-fashioned style. This figure approached her, and when it drew near, suddenly staggered, as if under the influence of drink, and disappeared! She hastened to the spot, but searched in vain for any clue to the mystery; the road was bounded by high walls, and there was no gateway or gap through which the figure might slip. Much mystified, she continued on her way, and arrived at her destination. She there mentioned what had occurred, and was then informed by an old resident in the neighbourhood that that woman had constantly been seen up to twenty years before, but not since that date. By the country-people the road was believed to be haunted, but the percipient did not know this at the time.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter 7

50. Aunt Betty's Warm Hand in a North Dublin Square

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1871–1872

    In January 1872, while staying with a relative in a square on the north side of Dublin, Major Macgregor was woken by pushes on his shoulder and caught a warm human hand whose arm ceased at the elbow. Servants attributed it to the master's Aunt Betty, who had lived in the upper part of the house and died over fifty years before.

    Read the passage

    A most weird experience fell to the lot of Major Macgregor, and was contributed by him to _Real Ghost Stories_, the celebrated Christmas number of the _Review of Reviews_. He says: "In the end of 1871 I went over to Ireland to visit a relative living in a Square in the north side of Dublin. In January 1872 the husband of my relative fell ill. I sat up with him for several nights, and at last, as he seemed better, I went to bed, and directed the footman to call me if anything went wrong. I soon fell asleep, but some time after was awakened by a push on the left shoulder. I started up, and said, 'Is there anything wrong?' I got no answer, but immediately received another push. I got annoyed, and said 'Can you not speak, man! and tell me if there is anything wrong.' Still no answer, and I had a feeling I was going to get another push when I suddenly turned round and caught a human hand, warm, plump, and soft. I said, 'Who are you?' but I got no answer. I then tried to pull the person towards me, but could not do so. I then said, 'I _will_ know who you are!' and having the hand tight in my right hand, with my left I felt the wrist and arm, enclosed, as it seemed to me, in a tight-fitting sleeve of some winter material with a linen cuff, but when I got to the elbow all trace of an arm ceased. I was so astounded that I let the hand go, and just then the clock struck two. Including the mistress of the house, there were five females in the establishment, and I can assert that the hand belonged to none of them. When I reported the adventure, the servants exclaimed, 'Oh, it must have been the master's old Aunt Betty, who lived for many years in the upper part of that house, and had died over fifty years before at a great age.' I afterwards heard that the room in which I felt the hand had been considered haunted, and very curious noises and peculiar incidents occurred, such as the bed-clothes torn off, &c. One lady got a slap in the face from some invisible hand, and when she lit her candle she saw as if something opaque fell or jumped off the bed. A general officer, a brother of the lady, slept there two nights, but preferred going to a hotel to remaining the third night. He never would say what he heard or saw, but always said the room was uncanny. I slept for months in the room afterwards, and was never in the least disturbed."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter I

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Dublin, in a square on the north side of the city, Major Macgregor was woken one night in January 1872 by pushes on his left shoulder, and when he turned and caught the hand that was pushing him, he found it warm, plump, and soft, with a wrist and arm in what felt like a tight-fitting sleeve and a linen cuff, but at the elbow all trace of an arm simply ceased. He had gone over to Ireland at the end of 1871 to visit a relative whose husband had fallen ill, and after sitting up several nights he had finally gone to bed, telling the footman to call if anything went wrong; the clock struck 2 as he let the hand go in astonishment. There were 5 women in the household, and the hand belonged to none of them; the servants said it must have been the master's old Aunt Betty, who had lived for years in the upper part of the house and died over 50 years before at a great age. The room had long been considered haunted, with curious noises, bed-clothes torn off, and one lady slapped in the face by an invisible hand before she saw something opaque jump off the bed; a general officer, her brother, slept there 2 nights but preferred a hotel for the third, saying only that the room was uncanny. Macgregor himself slept there for months afterwards and was never disturbed again.

51. Deathbed Footsteps at the Archdeacon's Door, Adare

    Adare · townland · Limerick · 1879

    In October 1879 the Archdeacon of Limerick twice heard hurried female footsteps cross his hall and an invisible hand grasp his study door handle, though no one was there. He later learned the wife of a friend, a District Inspector in Adare, had died that night; in her delirium she believed she was in his house conversing with him, between half-past ten and eleven — the exact time of the sounds.

    Read the passage

    We commence this group with stories in which the phenomena connected with the respective deaths were not perceived as representations of the human form. In the first only sounds were heard. It is sent as a personal experience by the Archdeacon of Limerick, Very Rev. J. A. Haydn, LL.D. "In the year 1879 there lived in the picturesque village of Adare, at a distance of about eight or nine miles from my residence, a District Inspector named ----, with whom I enjoyed a friendship of the most intimate and fraternal kind. At the time I write of, Mrs. ---- was expecting the arrival of their third child. She was a particularly tiny and fragile woman, and much anxiety was felt as to the result of the impending event. He and she had very frequently spent pleasant days at my house, with all the apartments of which they were thoroughly acquainted--a fact of importance in this narrative.

    "On Wednesday, October 17, 1879, I had a very jubilant letter from my friend, announcing that the expected event had successfully happened on the previous day, and that all was progressing satisfactorily. On the night of the following Wednesday, October 22, I retired to bed at about ten o'clock. My wife, the children, and two maid-servants were all sleeping upstairs, and I had a small bed in my study, which was on the ground floor. The house was shrouded in darkness, and the only sound that broke the silence was the ticking of the hall-clock.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VI

52. Phantom Footsteps in Adare Foretell a Death

    Adare · townland · Limerick · 1879

    An Archdeacon in Limerick heard mysterious footsteps and a hand trying his study door late at night, exactly matching the hour his friend's wife in Adare was delirious and speaking as if conversing with him. She died in Adare that same night at the time of the phenomena.

    Read the passage

    "I was quietly preparing to go to sleep, when I was much surprised at hearing, with the most unquestionable distinctness, the sound of light, hurried footsteps, exactly suggestive of those of an active, restless young female, coming in from the hall door and traversing the hall. They then, apparently with some hesitation, followed the passage leading to the study door, on arriving at which they stopped. I then heard the sound of a light, agitated hand apparently searching for the handle of the door. By this time, being quite sure that my wife had come down and wanted to speak to me, I sat up in bed, and called to her by name, asking what was the matter. As there was no reply, and the sounds had ceased, I struck a match, lighted a candle, and opened the door. No one was visible or audible. I went upstairs, found all the doors shut and everyone asleep. Greatly puzzled, I returned to the study and went to bed, leaving the candle alight. Immediately the whole performance was circumstantially repeated, but _this_ time the handle of the door was grasped by the invisible hand, and _partly_ turned, then relinquished. I started out of bed and renewed my previous search, with equally futile results. The clock struck eleven, and from that time all disturbances ceased.

    "On Friday morning I received a letter stating that Mrs. ---- had died at about midnight on the previous Wednesday. I hastened off to Adare and had an interview with my bereaved friend. With one item of our conversation I will close. He told me that his wife sank rapidly on Wednesday, until when night came on she became delirious. She spoke incoherently, as if revisiting scenes and places once familiar. 'She thought she was in _your_ house,' he said, 'and was apparently holding a conversation with _you_, as she used to keep silence at intervals as if listening to your replies.' I asked him if he could possibly remember the hour at which the imaginary conversation took place. He replied that, curiously enough, he could tell it accurately, as he had looked at his watch, and found the time between half-past ten and eleven o'clock--the exact time of the mysterious manifestations heard by me."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter 8

53. The Carpenter's Half-Formed Ghost at Mitchelstown

    Mitchelstown · townland · Cork · 1896

    Samuel Penrose, a carpenter who had returned to Mitchelstown parish from the Argentine, was fatally injured when a scaffolding gave way and died in a Cork hospital. The day after his funeral, Canon Courtenay Moore, Rector of Mitchelstown, saw the upper half of Penrose's form pass before him at his hall door, looking peaceful and happy.

    Read the passage

    Canon Courtenay Moore, M.A., Rector of Mitchelstown, contributes a personal experience. "It was about eighteen years ago--I cannot fix the exact date--that Samuel Penrose returned to this parish from the Argentine. He was getting on so well abroad that he would have remained there, but his wife fell ill, and for her sake he returned to Ireland. He was a carpenter by trade, and his former employer was glad to take him into his service again. Sam was a very respectable man of sincere religious feelings. Soon after his return he met with one or two rather severe accidents, and had a strong impression that a fatal one would happen him before long; and so it came to pass. A scaffolding gave way one day, and precipitated him on to a flagged stone floor. He did not die immediately, but his injuries proved fatal. He died in a Cork hospital soon after his admission: I went to Cork to officiate at his funeral. About noon the next day I was standing at my hall door, and the form of poor Sam, the upper half of it, seemed to pass before me. He looked peaceful and happy--it was a momentary vision, but perfectly distinct. The truncated appearance puzzled me very much, until some time after I read a large book by F.W.H. Myers, in which he made a scientific analysis and induction of such phenomena, and said that they were almost universally seen in this half-length form. I do not profess to explain what I saw: its message, if it had a message, seemed to be that poor Sam was at last at rest and in peace."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VI

54. The Murdered Boy of Rathfarnham Castle Lodge

    Rathfarnham · townland · Dublin

    The ghost of a boy murdered by a Romany is said to haunt one of the lodge gates of the Rathfarnham Castle demesne, with the lodge-keeper claiming to have seen it recently.

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    The ghost of a boy who was murdered by a Romany is said to haunt one of the lodge gates of the Castle demesne, and the lodge-keeper states that he saw it only a short time ago. The Castle, however, is now in possession of Jesuit Fathers, and the Superior assures us that there has been no sign of a ghost for a long time, his explanation being that the place is so crowded out with new buildings "that even a ghost would have some difficulty in finding a comfortable corner."

    It is a fairly general belief amongst students of supernatural phenomena that animals have the psychic faculty developed to a greater extent than we have. There are numerous stories which tell of animals being scared and frightened by something that is invisible to a human being, and the explanation given is that the animal has seen a ghost which we cannot see. A story that is told of a certain spot near the village of G----, in Co. Kilkenny, supports this theory. The account was sent us by the eye-witness of what occurred, and runs as follows: "I was out for a walk one evening near the town of G---- about 8.45 P.M., and was crossing the bridge that leads into the S. Carlow district with a small wire-haired terrier dog. When we were about three-quarters of a mile out, the dog began to bark and yelp in a most vicious manner at 'nothing' on the left-hand side of the roadway and near to a straggling hedge. I felt a bit creepy and that something was wrong. The dog kept on barking, but I could at first see nothing, but on looking closely for a few seconds I believe I saw a small grey-white object vanish gradually and noiselessly into the hedge. No sooner had it vanished than the dog ceased barking, wagged his tail, and seemed pleased with his successful efforts." The narrator goes on to say that he made inquiries when he got home, and found that this spot on the road had a very bad reputation, as people had frequently seen a ghost there, while horses had often to be beaten, coaxed, or led past the place. The explanation locally current is that a suicide was buried at the cross-roads near at hand, or that it may be the ghost of a man who is known to have been killed at the spot.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

55. The Fatal Cuckoo of Clonaslee

    Clonaslee · townland · Laois

    Near Clonaslee, a servant in mid-winter heard the cry of a cuckoo, a known death-warning for the family. That same day Mrs F--- was thrown from a trap when it jolted over a stone, breaking her neck.

    Read the passage

    In a Co. Wicklow family a death is preceded by the appearance of a spectre; the doors of the sitting-room open and a lady dressed in white satin walks across the room and hall. Before any member of a certain Queen's Co. family died a looking-glass was broken; while in a branch of that family the portent was the opening and shutting of the avenue gate. In another Queen's Co. family approaching death was heralded by the cry of the cuckoo, no matter at what season of the year it might occur. A Mrs. F---- and her son lived near Clonaslee. One day, in mid-winter, their servant heard a cuckoo; they went out for a drive, the trap jolted over a stone, throwing Mrs. F---- out, and breaking her neck. The ringing of all the house-bells is another portent which seems to be attached to several families. In another the aeolian harp is heard at or before death; an account of this was given to the present writer by a clergyman, who declares that he heard it in the middle of the night when one of his relatives passed away. A death-warning in the shape of a white owl follows the Westropp family. This last appeared, it is said, before a death in 1909, but, as Mr. T. J. Westropp remarks, it would be more convincing if it appeared at places where the white owl does _not_ nest and fly out every night. No doubt this list might be drawn out to much greater length.

    A lady correspondent states that her cousin, a Sir Patrick Dun's nurse, was attending a case in the town of Wicklow. Her patient was a middle-aged woman, the wife of a well-to-do shopkeeper. One evening the nurse was at her tea in the dining-room beneath the sick-room, when suddenly she heard a tremendous crash overhead. Fearing her patient had fallen out of bed, she hurried upstairs, to find her dozing quietly, and there was not the least sign of any disturbance. A member of the family, to whom she related this, told her calmly that that noise was always heard in their house before the death of any of them, and that it was a sure sign that the invalid would not recover. Contrary to the nurse's expectations, she died the following day.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter VII

56. The Ghost Money and the Armagh Theft Trial

    near Armagh · townland · Armagh · 1913

    In Armagh, £300 belonging to Patrick McFaul's brother went missing after a mysterious fire, and the family attributed the loss to spiritual intervention warning against a marriage. A servant girl was later tried for stealing the money after attempting to change banknotes in Derry.

    Read the passage

    An account of a police-court trial which appeared in the _Irish Times_ of 31st December 1913 emphasizes in a very marked degree the extraordinary grip that superstition has over some of the country people. A young woman was on her trial for stealing £300 from the brother of her employer, Patrick McFaul of Armagh. District Inspector Lowndes, in opening the case for the Crown, told the bench that the money had been taken out of the bank by McFaul to buy a holding, for the purchase of which negotiations were going on. The money was carelessly thrown into a drawer in a bedroom, and left there till it would be wanted. A short time afterwards a fire broke out in the room, and a heap of ashes was all that was found in the drawer, though little else in the room besides a few clothes was injured. "The McFauls appeared to accept their loss with a complacency, which could only be accounted for by the idea they entertained that the money was destroyed through spiritual intervention--that there were ghosts in the question, and that the destruction of the money was to be taken as a warning directed against a matrimonial arrangement, into which Michael McFaul was about to enter." The accused girl was servant to the McFauls, who discharged her a few days after the fire: but before this she had been into Derry and spent a night there; during her stay she tried to change three £20 notes with the help of a friend. But change was refused, and she had to abandon the attempt. "If some of the money was burned, some of it was certainly in existence three days later, to the amount of £60. One thing was manifest, and that was that an incredible amount of superstition appeared to prevail amongst families in that neighbourhood when the loss of such a sum as this could be attributed to anything but larceny, and it could for a moment be suggested that it was due to spiritual intervention to indicate that a certain course should be abandoned."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter 15

57. The Little Sailor Man of the Glen near Waterford

    Waterford · townland · Waterford · 1880–1885

    In the early 1880s, at a Court near Waterford city, a daughter of the house shooting rabbits in a marshy glen saw what she took for her half-brother in a sailor suit standing by a drain, but the figure vanished when she approached. An old dependent knew it at once as 'the little sailor man', and two clergyman's sons later saw the same figure; the country-people would not go through the glen after dusk.

    Read the passage

    A story told of a ghost which haunts a certain spot on an estate near the city of Waterford, bears a certain resemblance to the last story for the reason that it was only after the encounter had taken place in both cases that it was known that anything out of the ordinary had been seen. In the early eighties of last century ---- Court, near Waterford, was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. S---- and their family of two young boys and a girl of twenty-one years of age. Below the house is a marshy glen with a big open drain cut through it. Late one evening the daughter was out shooting rabbits near this drain and saw, as she thought, her half-brother standing by the drain in a sailor suit, which like other small boys he wore. She called to him once or twice, and to her surprise got no reply. She went towards him, and when she got close he suddenly disappeared. The next day she asked an old dependent, who had lived many years in the place, if there was anything curious about the glen. He replied at once: "Oh! you mean the little sailor man. Sure, he won't do you any harm." This was the first she had heard of anything of the sort, but it was then found that none of the country-people would go through the glen after dusk.

    Some time afterwards two sons of the clergyman of the parish in which ---- Court stands were out one evening fishing in the drain, when one of them suddenly said, "What's that sailor doing there?" The other saw nothing, and presently the figure vanished. At the time of the appearance neither had heard of Miss S----'s experience, and no one has been able to explain it, as there is apparently no tradition of any "little sailor man" having been there in the flesh.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

58. The Mysterious Pump at Dunluce Rectory

    Dunluce · townland · Antrim

    At Dunluce Rectory in County Antrim, the household repeatedly heard the sound of a water pump working late at night with no one present. After two years, the rector discovered the noise was caused by vibrations from the dining-room clock's striking mechanism being carried through the wall.

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    An occurrence which at first had all the appearance of partaking of the supernormal, and which was afterwards found to have a curious explanation, is related by Dean Ovenden of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin. "At Dunluce Rectory, Co. Antrim," he writes, "I had a strange experience. There was a force-pump attached to the back wall of the house, and many people drew water from it, as it was better than any obtained at that time in Bushmills. We used to notice, when going to bed, the sound of someone working the pump. All the servants denied that they ever used the pump between 11 P.M. and 12 midnight. I often looked out of the back window when I heard the pump going, but could not see anyone. I tied threads to the handle, but although they were found unbroken in the morning the pumping continued, sometimes only for three or four moves of the handle. On many nights no pumping was heard. The man-servant sat up with a gun and the dog, but he neither saw nor heard anything. We gave it up as a bad job, and still the pumping went on. After about two years of this experience, I was one night alone in the house. It was a calm and frosty night and I went to bed about 11.30 P.M. and lay awake; suddenly the pump began to work with great clearness, and mechanically I counted the strokes: they were exactly twelve. I exclaimed, 'The dining-room clock!' I sprang from bed and went down, and found that the clock was fast, as it showed two minutes past twelve o'clock. I set back the hands to 11.55 and lay in bed again, and soon the pumper began as usual. The explanation was that the vibration of the rising and falling hammer was carried up to the bedroom by the wall, but the sound of the bell was never heard. I found afterwards that the nights when there was no pumping were always windy."

    A man was walking along a country lane at night and as he was coming round a bend he saw a coffin on the road in front of him. At first he thought it was a warning to him that he was soon to leave this world; but after some hesitation, he finally summoned up courage to give the thing a poke with his stick, when he found that the coffin was merely an outline of sea-weed which some passer-by had made. Whereupon he went on his way much relieved.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter X

59. The Phantom Knocker of Emo House

    Emo · townland · Laois

    Emo House, an old mansion since pulled down, was plagued by loud, persistent knocking at the hall door shortly after the narrator's father moved in. He watched the door on a bright night and saw the knocker never move, and a herd feeding cattle before dawn admitted he too had been kept awake by it. Country people said it was the late resident who could not rest; the household also saw a heavy double drawing-room door open wide and slowly close on a calm night.

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    Mrs. Acheson, of Co. Roscommon, sends the following: "Emo House, Co. Westmeath, a very old mansion since pulled down, was purchased by my grandfather for his son, my father. The latter had only been living in it for a few days when knocking commenced at the hall door. Naturally he thought it was someone playing tricks, or endeavouring to frighten him away. One night he had the lobby window open directly over the door. The knocking commenced, and he looked out: it was a very bright night, and as there was no porch he could see the door distinctly; the knocking continued, but he did not see the knocker move. Another night he sat up expecting his brother, but as the latter did not come he went to bed. Finally the knocking became so loud and insistent that he felt sure his brother must have arrived. He went downstairs and opened the door, but no one was there. Still convinced that his brother was there and had gone round to the yard to put up his horse, he went out; but scarcely had he gone twenty yards from the door when the knocking recommenced behind his back. On turning round he could see no one."

    "After this the knocking got very bad, so much so that he could not rest. All this time he did not mention the strange occurrence to anyone. One morning he went up through the fields between four and five o'clock. To his surprise he found the herd out feeding the cattle. My father asked him why he was up so early. He replied that he could not sleep. 'Why?' asked my father. 'You know why yourself, sir--the knocking.' He then found that this man had heard it all the time, though he slept at the end of a long house. My father was advised to take no notice of it, for it would go as it came, though at this time it was continuous and very loud; and so it did. The country people said it was the late resident who could not rest."

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter II

60. The Vanishing Countrywoman near Cork

    Cork · townland · Cork

    A lady walking a country road near Cork saw an old-fashioned dressed countrywoman approach, stagger as if drunk, and disappear, though the road was walled with no escape route. She later learned the figure had been seen regularly up to twenty years before.

    Read the passage

    Here is another story of a haunted spot on a road, where a "ghost" was seen, not at the witching hour of night, not when evening shadows lengthen, but in broad daylight. It is sent to us by the percipient, a lady, who does not desire to have her name mentioned. She was walking along a country road in the vicinity of Cork one afternoon, and passed various people. She then saw coming towards her a country-woman dressed in an old-fashioned style. This figure approached her, and when it drew near, suddenly staggered, as if under the influence of drink, and disappeared! She hastened to the spot, but searched in vain for any clue to the mystery; the road was bounded by high walls, and there was no gateway or gap through which the figure might slip. Much mystified, she continued on her way, and arrived at her destination. She there mentioned what had occurred, and was then informed by an old resident in the neighbourhood that that woman had constantly been seen up to twenty years before, but not since that date. By the country-people the road was believed to be haunted, but the percipient did not know this at the time.

    The following is sent us by Mr. T. J. Westropp, and has points of its own which are interesting; he states: "On the road from Bray to Windgates, at the Deerpark of Kilruddy, is a spot which, whatever be the explanation, is distinguished by weird sounds and (some say) sights. I on one occasion was walking with a friend to catch the train at Bray about eleven o'clock one evening some twenty-five years ago, when we both heard heavy steps and rustling of bracken in the Deerpark; apparently some one got over the gate, crossed the road with heavy steps and fell from the wall next Bray Head, rustling and slightly groaning. The night was lightsome, though without actual moonlight, and we could see nothing over the wall where we had heard the noise.

    Project Gutenberg #14099, Chapter V

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Cork, there is a country road with a strange history. The story comes from a lady who was walking along that road one afternoon, in broad daylight. She passed various people going about their business. Then she saw a countrywoman coming towards her, dressed in an old-fashioned style. As the figure drew near, it suddenly staggered, as if under the influence of drink, and then disappeared. She hurried to the spot where the woman had vanished and searched for any clue to what had happened. But she found nothing. The road was bounded by high walls, and there was no gateway or gap through which the figure could have slipped. Mystified, she continued on her way to her destination. There she mentioned what had occurred, and an old resident of the neighbourhood told her that the same woman had been seen constantly on that road up to 20 years before, but not since that date. The country people believed the road was haunted, but the lady did not know this at the time of her encounter. So what she witnessed on that ordinary afternoon was something others had seen years before, a figure that staggers and vanishes on a walled road with no way out. The road was said to be haunted, and the woman had not been reported since those earlier years.