Spooks at the Rectory.
Missiles flung from roof by unseen hands.
Spooks or mischievous boys – local opinion is divided – are causing discomfort at Ardrea Rectory (near Cookstown, co. Tyrone), once the home of the Rev. Charles Woolf, who wrote the famous poem “The Burial of Sir John Moore.” Showers of bricks, bottles and the like are keeping the present occupier, the Rev W.E.R. Scott, and his household in a state of some liveliness. Police and special constables now garrison the house, and have done some shooting, so far without winging a single spook. The scene of the attack is the rectory yard, to the right of a three-storeyed structure. The missiles are flung from the roof by unseen hands. No one cares to approach this part of the grounds, and strangers have been warned to keep clear of the premises. Cookstown police and a strong force of special constabulary are on duty at the rectory day and night, and the shots fired in order, if possible, to frighten off the intruders have been without effect.
Liverpool Echo, 22nd March 1924.
Ardtrea Rectory Ghost.
Considerable excitement has existed around Ardtrea during the week in consequence of the pranks of what was supposed to be a ghost in Ardtrea Rectory. Stones, etc., were flung about, a bottle of vinegar was broken at the front door, etc. The police were requisitioned when the inmates could not get to the bottom of the affair, and the P Specials were on duty, but as usual in all such cases it was discovered that a domestic servant was responsible for the “supernatural” occurrences. She confessed, and the ghost was laid.
Mid-Ulster Mail, 22nd March 1924.
In olden times belief in ghosts was almost universal, and no matter how sceptical people may be of such things nowadays, the ghost story still has a big appeal.
One of the most remarkable ghost stories of the present century, to my mind, concerns the happenings which took place a few years ago at Ardtrea Rectory, a huge, gaunt old building, near Cookstown, Co. Tyrone. An ancestor of the then rector’s wife had been in charge of the parish about a hundred years previously. It is said that this ancestor attempted to shoot a mysterious, white-clad figure which had been haunting the grounds for some time. Shortly afterwards he was found dead in the house, his gun beside him. A tablet – which can still be seen – erected to his memory in the parish church states, that he died from “a sudden and awful visitation,” and pays a warm tribute to his many fine qualities.
Well, it was said that the ghost had been “laid”, but would appear again in a hundred years. A hundred years came and went and then this affair started again. This time the ghost wasn’t visible, but bottles, tin cans, and stones were showered, apparently from nowhere in particular, and crashed down around the house. It was truly a nine-days’ wonder, for with more or less brief intervals, these astonishing conditions prevailed for that period.
Despite the efforts of the rector – the Rev. W.E. R. Scott, M.A. – and others, it seemed that the mystery could not be solved. Both in daylight and after dark the mysterious missiles thudded to the ground in various places about the house. The massive steps at the front of the rectory especially rapidly resembled a large rubbish heap. The R.U.C. and the Special Constabulary tried to solve the problem, and one night no less than 25 of the latter, armed with rifles, drove up the tree-bordered avenue to keep watch at the house. But nothing happened this time, and they went away no wiser.
Eventually the position was cleared up, largely owing to the rector. It was found that the maid was in league with a soldier home on leave, and with several others, all of whom lived outside the parish. At the time the trouble started the only persons at the rectory were the rector, his wife, one or two of their children, and the maid. The maid knew that in view of an approaching holiday there would be nobody in the house except the rector and herself. If she could get him away also, then she and the soldier – and perhaps some others – could have the house to themselves, she reasoned. If they were careful, they could make outsiders believe that the house was deserted, because it was haunted.
The idea may have been crude, but she admitted her guilt, and was, of course, dismissed. She had not been suspected earlier, as she had arranged with her confederates to carry on the bombardment while she was actually in the house, and the missiles were often flung when the rector’s wife could see the maid actually performing her ordinary household duties. The plotters were aided in avoiding detection by the “cover” formed by numerous trees, shrubs, and outbuildings around the house.
Her only confederate to have his identity discovered was the soldier, who was given twenty-four hours to leave the locality, if he did not wish the escapade to be reported to his colonel. He went, but before he did so exclaimed bitterly to the rector that he would “never take up with a woman again.”
Ballymena Observer, 25th December 1931.
The story of this ghost is an amusing one and should not be taken too seriously. In the parish church of Ardtrea, near Cookstown, there was – and I believe, there still is – a marble monument in memory of the Reverend Thomas Meredith, who was for six years rector. He died, according to the words of the inscription, “on the 2nd May, 1819, as the 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 the family and servants to leave the house. Mr Meredith had tried to shoot the ghost, but had failed. Finally, someone advised him to try a silver bullet. He did so, and next morning was found dead at his hall-door, while a hideous being like a devil made horrible noises out of any window the servant approached. The man was advised by neighbours to get the priest, who would ‘lay’ the thing. The priest arrived and with him a jar of whisky, under the influence of which the ghost became quite civil, and remained so until there was only one glass of whisky left. The priest was just about to empty this out for himself, when the ghost made itself as tin and as long as a Lough Neagh eel and wriggled into the jar to get the last drop. Thereupon the priest hurriedly put the cork into place hammered it in, and, ,making the sign of the cross over it, had the evil thing secured. The jar was buried in the cellar of the rectory, and ancient villagers aver that on windy nights the ghost can still be heard calling to be let out.
Mid-Ulster Mail, 19th January 1929.
Another haunted rectory.
Yet another rectory is said to be haunted. This time it is England, but in some ways the case is strangely like to the ghost of Ardtrea Rectory, Co. Tyrone, which caused such a sensation a few years ago. I told you about the latter just before Christmas.
This ghost, like the Ardtrea one, includes throwing bottles in its activities, and one of these missiles nearly knocked a bit out of a reporter who arrived to investigate. That was most obliging, for the incident gave his story of the affair an extremely realistic effect.
But I am afraid I have lost my faith in ghosts. If the mystery of this English rectory is ever solved, I expect it will be found, as happened at Ardtrea, that the hands which threw the bottles, and carried out all the other ghostly deeds, were not supernatural but human.
Ballymena Observer, 22nd January 1932.