Strange ghostly doings.
From Hornsey Rise – one of London’s northern suburbs – comes the ghost story of the season. The haunted house is a detached one of ten rooms. Six people live there – an elderly couple who have been in it for 25 years, a son about 30 years old, and two daughters. One of the daughters is a widow.
“On Monday morning,” said this widow, “I was awakened at four o’clock by loud knockings on the wall. They went on for three hours. On Wednesday and Thursday night there was more knocking. We knocked back. The number of knocks we gave was repeated. But once I knocked six times and only four knocks came back. On Sunday morning the knocking came to my bed. I felt a distinct push against the mattress from underneath. As I dressed I felt a hand gently clasp my foot. Then it clasped my wrist. It felt like a gloved hand. Then reels of cotton began to tumble about. A box of matches jumped from the mantelpiece and knocked my foot as I was sitting in a chair. On Tuesday cloth-covered books began to fly about the room. My hairbrush jumped off the dressing-table on to the bed. Pillows from underneath the bedclothes were flung about the floor. Our black cat jumped on the bed and lay down. Suddenly she ‘meeowed,’ and I saw her put her ears back as if frightened or hurt. She jumped down and ran out of the room. Latterly I got cross and called out loudly, ‘Oh, go away for goodness’ sake.’ It stopped then for about fifteen minutes.”
At this moment there was a loud crash downstairs. All the party went down. The mother of the house said that was the second time the steps had been thrown on to the floor.
Auckland Star, 19th February 1916.