A Substantial Ghost Story.
A story, which three weeks ago would have delighted the editor of the Spiritualist, and given his followers unbounded faith in spiritualistic phenomena, reaches us from Sale, but owing to the confession of a half-hearted “slavey,” it is now irrevocably consigned to the limbo of exploded deceptions.
For some time past the occupants of a house in a certain road in Sale have been alarmed by mysterious ringings of the front door bell at hours seasonable and unseasonable, by handwriting on the front door which was as anti-spiritualistic as the disturbances of the window frames and the shattering of glass from some unknown cause was spiritualistic.
Of all these so-called phenomena the front-door bell was the greatest offender, and, when the inmates went to answer and welcome some thought-of visitor, they were met by that lovely view of Brooklands and that delightful scent from the canal bank which the residents in that locality so well know and so little appreciate.
At length the police were communicated with, but even the proverbial astuteness of the Cheshire Constabulary was thoroughly baffled. The bells rang, the writing wrote, and the window shuddered and shook as usual, and no one, so far as they could see, did it.
A Manchester friend of the family set about to solve the mystery, and clear this haunted house from the stigma attaching to it. Stealthily did he lie in ambush in the front garden, and patiently bide the issue. Strange to say, an active and intelligent officer – we will call him A1 for the sake of distinction – was of the same mind as King Cotton, and thought he would solve the mystery too.
Precisely at midnight, when innumerable ghosts are supposed to promenade, the active and intelligent in plain clothes, accompanied by his faithful dog (breed not stated) approached the house with stealthy steps. Cotton was wide awake. A1 crept in and approached the window. Cotton sprang out on the instant, and seizing A1 by the throat, a contest commenced which almost baffles description. Cotton was certain in his own mind he had got the culprit; A1 was as equally certain that this was a mistake, and that he was an officer of which Sale might justly be proud.
But there was no time for explanation. Cotton strengthened his grip; A1 seized Cotton – the dog, Cotton’s unmentionables. The fray waxed fast and furious; the combatants roared and gripped, making the night hideous with their roaring, and rousing the neighbourhood. After a quarter of an hour’s tugging a truce was called, the dog in the meantime having torn the aforesaid unmentionables into shreds. Mutual explanation ensued – the police officer returned to duty and Cotton to Manchester with a keen appreciation of his first endeavours at ghost-laying.
One would have thought that after all this attention the ghost would have removed to more solitary and congenial quarters. But this was not the case. On the other hand, it worked away harder than ever, until it was past all bearing.
A gentleman, who is exceedingly clever as an amateur detective, undertook to solve the mystery, and ultimately success was in this respect achieved. The first night’s experience tended to convince him that the “phenomena” were caused by a party inside the house; suspicion fell on the “slavey,” who, however, strongly denied any connection therewith.
The threat of immediate legal proceedings only tended to induce her to make a full confession, which she did, and also explained the way in which she had produced the “manifestations.” It is unnecessary to say that since her discharge the family have enjoyed perfect peace, and would, no doubt, be inclined to allow their erring help to dedicate herself (without respect) to the Spiritualists. She would make her fortune as a medium of the first water.- Altrincham and Bowdon Guardian.
Belfast Telegraph, 1st July 1875.