“Ghost at a Farmhouse”
A Village Scare.
Inhabitants of Coedkernew, a village pleasantly situated between Newport and Cardiff, are greatly agitated by the stories of a ghost which is said to have taken up its quarters at Mardy Farm, in the occupation of Mr. Ernest Parsons. It made its advent (according to a correspondent) by turning several pictures. Next day someone put a bundle of hay in a cow-shed, and by some mysterious means this bundle transported itself to the middle of the farmyard. The spook then turned its attention to the crockery, and two hundred pieces on the kitchen dresser fell upon the floor with a terrific crash. Mrs. Parsons cooked four pieces of meat for two labourers, and put two pieces on each plate. Then she went into the yard to call the men, and when they came to dinner the beef had mysteriously vanished. It was subsequently discovered in a locked cupboard.
It is further asserted, as showing the strange happenings at this haunted homestead, that two flitches of bacon hanging on a wall dropped to the floor while no one was near them. Rumour states that the farm hands are so scared that some of them have left the place. One little fellow declared he “woant going to stop when his bed galloped around room at night.” Another story which is current in Coedkernew is that the clock, which had stopped for three months, suddenly broke its silence and struck the midnight hour. When the vicar called at the farm he was shown the pieces of bacon, which were lying on the floor. The vicar was candid. If people believed in ghosts, he said, they must believe they come from heaven or hell. They would be too happy to leave heaven, and if they are in the other place they would be too bad to be released.
The local police, says the writer, have not succeeded in running to earth anyone who could satisfactorily explain these strange happenings. The villages might possibly be reassured if the vicar would read to them the “ghost” story in Mr. Barrie’s book, “A Window in Thrums.”
London Daily News, 16th January 1904
The “Haunted” Homestead. Extraordinary Stories.
Our Newport (Mon.) Correspondent telegraphs:
Evidently there is no abatement int he interest created by the strange doings of the Coedkernewe “spook.” Advantage was taken of the fine day by a number of persons yesterday to visit Mardy Farm, which adjoins Lord Tredegar’s noted stud farm, and is situate on his lordship’s estate. The rooms of the homestead are commodious, thus giving “the ghostly visitant” plenty of scope for operation.
Inquiries made at Coedkernewe yesterday elicited the fact that the “manifestation” had to some extent ceased, though uncanny things are still happening to disturb the wonted peaceful serenity of Mr. Parson’s household.
The family has been alarmed by mysterious tappings in some appartments. A story circulated in the locality is that one night all the beds started to walk downstairs, and that they became jammed in the passages. Two children indulged in stories of pictures and crockery going round as fast as possible.
Farmer Parsons himself scouts the idea that these alleged extraordinary happenings are the work of unknown “spirits.” He does not believe in ghosts, and his view is that someone has been playing pranks. There has been a strange disappearance of the keys of the outer door, and that tricks are being played seems to be indicated by the fact that these keys have since been replaced in their accustomed positions.
Our correspondent learnt from villagers who had passed the farm buildings during the night that there had not been anything unusual, though one yeoman declared that on his way home one night last week he saw a white object near Tredegar Park.
London Daily News, 18th January 1904.
Coedkernew in a state of alarm.
“Spook’s” pranks in kitchen and bedroom.
Coedkernew is a tiny village situate about four miles to the westward of Newport. An alleged ghost has been startlingly active there during the past week or ten days, and, as a consequence, the whole countryside has been in a ferment of excitement and consternation. As soon as the shades of night have fallen the women folk for miles around have resolutely remained indoors affrighted, and scores of men, sturdy sons of the soil, who would laugh at any human foe, have likewise declined to venture forth in the darkness. The uncanniness of the happenings at Mardy Farm has been so astounding that it has caught all the inhabitants on the Tredegar Estate between Newport and St. Mellon’s in its grip. Many scoffers there have been, ’tis true, but more believers. No common spook is this mysterious visitant; it is original in its methods, and has eluded all efforts at capture.
Coedkernew’s ghost came to earth about ten days ago, and announced its presence by turning several large pictures with their faces to the wall in the rooms of the farmhouse. Mr. Edwin Parsons, the tenant, and his wife were out when this strange episode occurred. Neither the servants nor the children could be induced to confess to the prank. Rumours of the ghostly visitation soon got about. Mr. and Mrs. Parsons have sought to check their winged flight, but in vain; and during the whole of the past week weird stories have increased and multiplied with a facility which does credit to the vivid imagination of Mr. Parson’s neighbours.
It is asserted, for instance, that a piece of beef was placed on the kitchen table by Mr. Parsons, who turned away for a moment, and when he looked again, lo and behold! the piece of beef had compressed itself into a pint jug! Then it is related that another day Mrs. Parsons prepared the dinner for two labourers. She placed two pieces of meat on each of their plates, left to call the men, and when she got back there was only one piece of meat on either plate. Both Mrs. Parsons and the labourers were greatly alarmed. They instituted a search, and found the missing morsels locked in a cupboard. One of those farm hands is said to have thrown up his situation and decamped in a hurry a morning or two later because of certain strange movements of his bed during the night.
Mr. Parsons lodged a complaint with Police-constable Cook, the guardian of the peace at Coedkernew, whose manly nature prompted him to reply that a horse-whip was needed more than the police at Mardy Farm.
Last Wednesday night a dozen young fellows from Castleton determined to watch during the night at the farmhouse. Nothing, apparently, occurred, but in the morning, although the stable-door was locked, all the harness was found turned out into the yard. Another story is that the name of Mrs. Parsons’ first husband, “Henry John Parsons,” was one day found written on the pantry window. Then it is stated that one evening the children came scrambling downstairs shrieking, followed by their bed. The best imaginative effort of all, however, is that told as to an incident at the end of the week. It was late in the evening when one of the beds was seen walking downstairs. It came half-way, and then turned round and walked back again!
One of our reporters called at Mardy Farm on Sunday. He attempted to interview Mr. Parsons, but the farmer was as silent as a sphinx. He could be induced to tell nothing of the happenings in his household. All the stories related were gleaned from other residents in the neighbourhood. We will not vouch for their accuracy. Indeed, we are inclinded to think that the neighbours, like the ladies in the time of Dr. Johnson – and at all other times – are in the habit of embroidering their facts. One outspoken sceptic was found in the village. “It reminds me,” he said, “of the days of my youth. I worked at a farm in this neighbourhood then, and a maidservant engaged there was a caution for practical joking. She forewarned me of one of her pranks. One beautiful starlit summer night, after work was done, the other labourers and I were sitting out in a field chatting and smoking, when we saw an object in white advancing towards us. Everyone scampered to the house for dear life, and one of the younger men, fleeter of foot than the others, came running back with a loaded double-barrelled gun. ‘I’ll shoot it! I’ll shoot it! he exclaimed; but I knocked the gun from his hands, for I knew it was Mary.”
Evening Express, 18th January 1904.
That Mardy Ghost.
Who threw the butter?
The Poltergeist, if we remember rightly, is a noisy, impish spirit, who amuses himself with upsetting everything in a house, throwing stones, and other naughty ways. So, at any rate, says one of the authorities on ghosts, and the reminder may be useful to the good people of Monmouthshire whose peace has been of late disturbed by mysterious performances that seem to bear the Poltergeist characteristics. Identification and capture seem to be a pressing need, for the Monmouthshire ghost is becoming impertinent.
Our Newport (Mon.) correspondent telegraphs: – The “ghost” of Mardy Farm, Coedkernew, Monmouth, has not been “laid” yet, and exciting incidents have recently occurred. The most extraordinary feature is the “ghost’s” partiality for butter. This has been strewn about the farmhouse plenteously, and in addition traces of teeth marks have been found upon the surface of a tub of butter.
But the richest butter story of all has to do with the result of a night watch. Ten persons, so it is said, sat up waiting for the “ghost.” One was a policeman. The children had been sent to bed. Gradually the silence of the night worked upon the solemn council of ten as they sat sedate and watchful, eager to seize the slightest chance of effecting a capture.
The hand of the clock was stealing around to the mystic hour of midnight, and nothing had occurred to justify the wait, when suddenly (as it should) something happened. The policeman was seated in all the dignity befitting a representative of the law, when from some unseen quarter a half-pound lump of butter came flying across space, and, true as a dart, struck him full in the eye; and though there was a hurried search noone could be found who was likely to have been responsible.
One day, recently, Mrs. Parsons had just put aside a tub containing some lard which was just clarified, and when she looked again a lot of soda had been tumbled into it. Then, again, a store of fresh cream was found to be quite spoilt by the mysterious mixing with it of a large jar of pickled cabbage.
London Daily News, 26th January 1904.
Mardy Farm Ghost!
Unlucky policeman gets an eyeful of butter.
The further pranks of the Monmouth spectre.
If any doubt remained as to the existence of the supposed ghost at the village of Coedkernew, in Monmouthshire, it has been dissipated by the fact that the village policeman has been struck full in the eye with half a pound of butter flung by the unseen visitor!
The ghost’s antics were first reported on January 15, when it was related that in the same farmhouse it turned the pictures on the walls, compressed a piece of beef into a jug while the farmer’s back was turned, threw a bundle of hay into the yard, dropped 200 pieces of crockery in the kitchen without breaking them, and carried beds round the room and partly down the stairs.
So disturbing has been the effect of the pranks lately played at the farm of Mrs Parsons by the ghost that a village conclave determined to keep watch in the small hours and solve the mystery. The persons sat up all night in the farmhouse waiting for the ghost to appear. The trustworthiness of the company of watchers was guaranteed by the presence of the local constable, but for some time it seemed as if the policeman’s attendance had frightened the ghost away.
The ten men of Coedkernew were losing faith, when suddenly an eerie sound made the hair of the more sensitive begin to rise. The sound was followed by the rapid flight of an object which, thrown with unerring aim by an unseen hand, hit the policeman in the eye. It was butter.
Then there was a ghost drive, but no ghost was found. Other pranks which the ghost had recently played have taken the form of putting soda into a tub of newly clarified lard, and the emptying of a jar of pickled cabbage into a large quantity of cream. Another bed is said to have been found halfway downstairs, and the name of Mrs Parson’s first husband traced on the glass of a lamp.
So strange have been the manifestations of the Coedkernew ghost that Lord Tredegar has sent to the village to make inquiries.
Cambria Daily Leader, 26th January 1904.
Coedkernew Ghost Story.
The excitement respecting the strange incidents reported to have occurred at the Mardy Farm, Coedkernew, continues, and Mr. E Parsons, the tenant of the farm, has seen us on the subject and explained the very trivial matters which gave rise to the ridiculous reports current in the neighbourhood. The alleged incidents with which the rumour started were very simple, easily explainable, and might have occurred in any household. But once supernatural agency was suggested, story upon story was put into circulation without the slightest justification or foundation. As a consequence, there has been great annoyance to Mr. Parsons, who is being constantly pestered by the credulous. It is to be hoped now that the district has had its excitement it will settle down to the ordinary business of life, and regard the whole thing as the foolish invention of foolish people. From the first, Mr. Parsons has ridiculed the idea of supernatural phenomena, and he is to be sympathised with in the annoyance caused by the reports circulated.
Evening Express, 28th January 1904
Coedkernew’s Sprite.
Goblin Games in Mardy Farm.
Night Watchers Discomfited.
The goblin of Mardy Farm, Coedkernew, has been at his games again, and the tricks that are played, if village rumour were literal truth, would eclipse the best performances of Puck himself. There are not wanting some locals who have a more than half-belief that the place is the haunt of the eleves, but in these days, when folk-lore is diminishing amongst rustics, the general opinion of quiet Coedkernew favours a more prosaic solution of the visitations. The mystery, however, has not yet been solved, and in the last few days the “spirit” has been moved to work many acts of eccentricity.
Thus, a tub of clarified lard set to cool was found in the morning not improved by the addition of washing soda; and another time the mischievous visitant went to the dairy, and finding a pan of cream mixed therein the contents of a large jar of pickled cabbage. These are among the best of the facetious performances of the modern edition of Robin Goodfellow in antic mood. More generally the attentions have been limited to raids on the butter store and a distribution of the article about the floors and stairs. A piece picked up one morning gave evidence that the spirit had materialised, for there were on it very palpable teeth marks.
Sensation amongst the villagers has been throroughly revived, and the bolder amongst them proposed to keep vigil one night. Ten were the number of a valiant band who essayed to “lay the ghost,” and foremost in the enterprise was a local policeman. Arrived, they took their station in the part of the house where was the centre of the disturbances, and, the household having retired to the regions of sleep, sat down to wait for “happenings.” Long they waited, with only the tick-tack of the clock to mark the drowsy watch, and when came the witching hour feelings had been wound up to the height of expectation. It was realised. Just at the moment when the representative of law and order was yawning, and his watchfulness thereby relaxed, came from some point unnoted by any observer a missile in the shape of a half pound pat of butter, discharged with an aim so true that the constable’s dexter optic was closed by the oleaginous compound.
The whole company, astounded and utterly surprised, rose in a body, and even before the startled constable had cleared his eyes made a rush for the door – not to run away, but to search for the rude disturber of the night. They did not find whose was the arm that sent the butter so straight to the mark, nor was there trace of human presence that was discoverable even by the local Sherlock Holmes. And so the mystery of Mardy Farm for the present remains unsolved.
The Cardiff Times, 30th January 1904.
Borderland Problems.
What looked like a promising ghost story in South Wales has had a prosaic ending. The “ghost” turns out to be no disembodied spirit, but an agent of flesh and blood. This is a common experience, as those interested in what is called psychical research know. The most circumstantial and convincing ghost stories usually turn out, when they are properly sifted, to be capable of as natural an explanation as the ghost of Mardy Farm. […]
Weekly Dispatch (London), 31st January 1904.
(cannot see this repeated elsewhere?)
“Ghost” sent to prison.
The “ghost” of Mardy farmyard, South Wales, was laid when the tenant of the farm returning late at night saw a mysterious moving light among his hayricks. With two police officers he investigated and James White, watercress seller, of Cantop, Cardiff, was found beneath a lot of loose hay. White, who had several times been convicted for drunkenness and was known to prowl about the district, was sentenced at Newport Police Court to fourteen days’ hard labour.
Shields Daily Gazette, 1st November 1904.
(why is this titled in the same way, so long after the incidents? and in a paper so far away?)
Maerdy Farm on contemporary and modern maps.
https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/439528