A Latheron Ghost.
The scene of action has changed amongst the ghosts, and with a “Hey Presto, and be gone,” all the hobgoblins which have been turning the minds of our citizens topsy-turvy have taken flight to the parish of Latheron.
We have been credibly informed, that at Bolteach, Latheronwheel, the most extraordinary ghost that has yet made its debut, has been recently carrying on the war. It would appear, that like some genii or giant of which we have read, this ghost is invisible, and that notwithstanding every search, and the most diligent and prying inquiries into the usual haunts of such ethereal beings, nothing, as yet, has been discovered of it.
It was about a week ago that the sprite commenced its freaks. As the family resident at this haunted house at Bolteach, were sitting down by the light of a peat fire to their evening meal, which consisted of a large basketful of potatoes, the most hideous and unearthly sounds were heard, and immediately as if with one accord, the murphies became inspired, and commenced to leap, spring and bound about in the most fantastic and extraordinary manner.
The family sat in astonishment with their mouths open; and, strange to say, the potatoes, as if willing to be eaten, bolted into their “potato-traps,” and stuck fast there like so many corks in ginger beer bottles. This game continued for some little time, when suddenly a noise was heard in another corner of the apartment, and, wonderful to relate, an iron pot, laddle, and a three foot stool, began to dance fandangoes, while the besom and tongs, which had hitherto never shown the least inclination to be unruly, were instantaneously seized with an irresisible desire of waltzing round the room.
The scene now became appalling, and horror upon horror accumulated. Peats from all quarters were showered upon the heads of the luckless inmates; the gudewife’s spinning wheel set a dancing to jig time, a number of dried sillochs and cuddens, which were suspended upon a cord that stretched across the apartment set a leaping upon the slack rope, and jumping Jim Crow, with a degree of animation perfectly astounding, while, surprising enough, the uncouth stones which formed the path door simultaneously commenced a reel, while an aerial bagpiper right above their heads, to add to their merriment, struck up the air o “Caberfeigh.”
Consternation seized the inhabitants, and with a rapidity which it would be difficult to express, or to imitate, they fled from the diabolical dwelling.
It has often struck us, that something really ought to be done by persons possessing the power to root out these gross and abominable superstitions. Viewing the matter in this light, we would with much deference suggest to the various ministers of all denominations to wage a determined war against such absurdities.
It is much to be lamented that folly such as we have mentioned should in the least be believed in, but still more so, when we find pious and respectable individuals becoming its dupes. Some of our ministers have been taking an active part in politics, labouring with much zeal in political squabbling and party feuds, equally derogatory to their standing, as quite out of their province. Would it not be better that they devoted a part of the precious time so spent to the eradicating of the unnatural, superstitious, and nonsensical trash to which so many of their hearers give implicit credit?
John O’Groat Journal, 9th February 1838.