Real Ghost At Last.
Prosaic police talk of burglars.
Are assailed by hot ashes.
Fusillade of stones, candlesticks, and dog chains.
Beer cellar fittings walk upstairs.
Whole neighbourhood alarmed.
Llanarthney, in the Vale of Towy, is possessed of a real sensation. Even in this generation nothing can beat a ghost story for eerie creepiness, and the latter has the merit just now of being quite in season. This is the time of the year when, above all other times, one talks and thinks about ghost lore, and, therefore, one greets the Llanarthney spectre as being exceedingly apropos. That specctre has been circumspect in other ways, for, ignoring the prejudices of a Sadducean generation which will not believe in anything which it cannot see or handle, the Llanarthney spook discards the devices of the ghost of your old baronial hall, and remains invisible, a manifestation, merely evidenced by the agitation of articles of furniture and showers of hot ashes! “Hot ashes” provide the finishing, albeit incongruous, touch to the whole story. Where in the world could a wandering ghost obtain, and conceal till needed, hot ashes?
The scene of the manifestation is reported to be the Emlyn Arms, a comfortable hostelry in Llanarthney village, which is situate on the main road from Carmarthen to Llandilo, with a cross-road directly in front leading to Portyrhyd. On the right is the village post-office, and in close proximity is the church cemetery. The inn is kept by an aged man, John Morgan Meredith, and his wife, together with a servant girl whom they have just adopted.
On Wednesday night Mrs Meredith and the girl were alone in the house, the husband having gone to visit his relatives at his native place of Machynlleth. During the evening Mrs Meredith went out to fetch the cows, and when she was crossing the yard stones were thrown at her. She did not take much notice, but when she was returning to the house the key of the cellar door was hurled towards her from the passage. A little later the servant informed Mrs Meredith that someone was knocking at the door outside, whereupon the old lady told her not to open it, as it was after “stop-tap” and a policeman might come. The knocking, however, continued, and Mrs Meredith ultimately opened the door, when she was startled to see no one there, but a candle-stick flew past her, having been thrown from outside.
An unearthly noise was afterwards heard, and the local constable was called in, whilst Mrs Meredith and her servant stayed for the night at a neighbour’s house. The policeman concluded that there was a burglar on the premises, and took steps to have the house surrounded, whilst he made a search of the building for the supposed intruder. He looked high and low, but could not find anything, and whilst he was kneeling down to look under the bed upstairs he narrowly escaped injury by the hurling of a heavy ornament from the bedroom mantelpiece. Various articles were thrown at him, and those who were with him in the house had a most unpleasant experience.
When our representative visited the district on Friday the inhabitants were excited with the all-absorbing topic of the incidents at the Emlyn Arms. Although the people generally said that something very unusual had happened, they were loth to give particulars. The most authentic narrative was that given by Police-constable Gwilym Jenkins, the resident officer in the village.
“It is a complete mystery,” said the constable, and he proceeded to describe his strange experiences, being confirmed by his wife and sister-in-law. “When Mrs Meredith,” he said, “was attending the cows on Wednesday night, just after ‘stop-tap’ stones were pelted at her. She attached little importance to this, and thought someone was larking. When she was crossing the yard the key of the cellar door was hurled at her from the direction of the passage. After she got inside the house there was some knocking at the front door. When the little girl went with her to open it no one could be seen, but a candle-stick came whizzing along the entrance of the passage. The old lady was not frightened, and proceeded to bed, but as she and the little girl were going upstairs stones and clothes were thrown down, and the poor creatures scarcely knew what to do. On the landing the thing came to such a crisis that the neighbours were called in. I was not in the village at the time, and Mrs Jenkins and her sister were summoned.”
“We were so frightened,” interposed Mrs Jenkins, “that we fetched Daniel Morgan, the postman, and his sister, Miss Jane Morgan. We did not venture inside the house until my husband came, but whilst standing outside we heard stones coming from the back part of the house to the front..”
Police-constable Jenkins added that when he came back from his rounds in the colliery district on his bicycle there was a group of persons outside the Emlyn Arms, and he was informed that there was a burglar in the house. “I had the building surrounded,” he said, “so that the intruder could not escape, and went into the house, but the first thing I saw were stones coming down from upstairs. I then went upstairs and searched all the rooms, but failed to find anyone. I went up to the attic on a ladder, but there was no one there. I made a thorough search downstairs, and of the cellar and all the outhouses, with the same result, although stones were falling inside the building from somewhere all the time. Even heated cinders were flying about the place.”
“Hot coals! Where did they come from?” asked the reporter. “Goodness knows,” replied the constable; “I don’t; but they came from somewhere.”
“Quite true,” confirmed Mrs Jenkins; “they were actually jumping on to the table and were quite hot.” “And empty bottles and glasses were flying about, and fell smashing at our feet,” added the officer.
“I saw all this and much more,” emphasised Mrs Jenkins. “I saw also old saucepan covers, old teapot covers, and corks coming down about us.” “Quite right,” said the officer; “I picked up a dog chain, and we could not see who was slinging these things. We were standing together, and they were dropping in the middle of us. A polish box dropped from Mr Meredith’s waistcoat, which was hanging in the kitchen – the very waistcoat which Mrs Meredith ironed that afternoon, and there could not have been anything in it then or she would have seen it. A tablespoon fell from somewhere and struck the little girl and hurt her. This would be about two o’clock on Thursday morning, after considerable watching for what we thought, first of all, to be a burglar.”
Police-constable Jenkins added that it was a complete mystery to him. He had failed to find anyone in the house. He ridiculed the suggestion that someone might be perpetrating a hoax. “You don’t think it was a lark on the part of the servant girl or of someone else?” “Oh! dear, no.”
“It could not have been the servant,” emphatically observed Mrs Jenkins, “because she was in the kitchen where all these things were dropping about. She is only thirteen years of age, and could not do such a thing.” Police-constable Jenkins explained that Mrs Meredith and the girl were so frightened that they left the place about 3.30 in the morning and went to sleep at Brynderwen, the house of a neighbour, David Jones, a mason employed on the estate of Earl Cawdor, who also owns the Emlyn Arms.
“I should have mentioned,” added the constable, “that the blocks attached to the ‘wooden horses’ which hold the beer casks were actually coming up from the cellar. How they were pushed forward I can’t say.” “Do you really mean that?” “Certainly. I picked them up. I also heard a smash, and I made a bolt in the direction of the noise, but I failed to see anything. Then a tray was hurled from the bar into the kitchen.” “And you made another bolt?” “Yes, but I could not see anybody.”
He added that he could hear people moving about upstairs as if someone were running bare-footed. The noise appeared to be caused by one person, and was of an unearthly character. He called again about seven o’clock on Thursday morning, and stones were still coming down. Several people in the village entered the house and saw what happened.
A dog chain covered with lime, he added, was thrown into the place. Strange to say, it did not belong to the house, and no one saw it thrown. All the stones thrown were covered with lime, and seemed to correspond with some stones outside. “About two o’clock on Thursday morning I was upstairs making a search and my wife was downstairs. I was crossing over the landing into another room when a mat tumbled downstairs and dropped on my wife’s head. There was a toasting-fork hanging by the fireplace, and that dropped in the passage, although the kitchen door was closed at the time. A short time afterwards a pop-bottle fell by my side and smashed into bits.” “You could not say where it came from?” “No. It is so strange that I cannot fully describe it. If you were watching for things to come you could not see them. Whilst I was searching on my knees under the bed an ornamented stone which was on the mantelpiece dropped alongside of me.”
The weird disturbances continued up to two o’clock on Thursday afternoon, and a number of persons in the district witnessed the phenomena. The constable is convinced that it is a practical joke, but he cannot offer any explanation. Mr and Mrs Meredith have lived at the Emlyn Arms for over twenty years, and are about 65 years of age. It is said that nothing of a similar nature has happened in the house before.
Evening Express, 1st January 1910.
Ghost That Throws Stones.
Queer Story from Wales.
A quaint tale of a spook comes from the small Carmarthenshire village of Llanarthney, and in this case the ghostly visitant seems to be peculiarly vicious, missiles being hurled through the air by an unseen hand. The mysterious happenings which have terrified the peaceful villagers have taken place at the Emlyn Arms Inn, and a correspondent of the “Daily Chronicle” says appearances go to show that this old-fashioned hotel must either be haunted or that an exceedingly marvellous conjuror has been able to completely defy police and other detection.
On Wednesday night, just after closing the inn, Mrs Meredith, the landlady, whose husband was spending his holidays in North Wales, was pelted with stones as she was tending the cattle. She attached no significance to this, but when her servant-girl, aged 13, who bore her company, responded to a knock at the front door a candlestick came whizzing through the passage. Yet not a soul was seen either in or about the premises.
More mysterious still, various missiles were presently hurled from every quarter of the kitchen, and, terrified in the extreme, Mrs Meredith shrieked for help. Mrs Jenkins, wife of the village constable, and her sister-in-law, Miss Jenkins, hurried to the house of mystery at midnight, but so eerie were the antics of the presumed visitant from the spiritual world that neither dared enter the inn, nor would others venture therein until the arrival at 2.30 a.m. of Police Constable Gwilym Jenkins, who had cycled through the colliery districts on duty.
He believed that his services were needed to arrest a burglar, but, search where and how he would, no person could be found, although he heard the tramping of “padded feet” on the stairway and in the upper chambers. Bottles fell at his feet and were smashed, says the correspondent. A heavy black varnished stone ornament “jumped off” a bedroom mantelpiece and fell close to his head as he was looking under the bed for a burglar, and stones which had been immersed in white lime went hither and thither in most inconceivable fashion, whilst teapot covers and covers of other things came hurtling down, to the astonishment of the constable, his wife, sister-in-law, post-office officials, and the occupants of the inn.
The spectators, it is said, saw a polished box fall from Mr Meredith’s waistcoat, which was hanging in the kitchen. This waistcoat was ironed by Mrs Meredith on the previous evening, and she could not have failed to notice the box had it been there then. At 3.30 in the morning mistress and maid sought refuge in the house of a mason employed by Earl Cawdor, who owns the inn, but when they returned the following morning with the constable the mysterious happenings were resumed.
These occurrences were witnessed by other people, including the vicar and curate of the parish. Constable Jenkins, who has been in the Carmarthenshire constabulary about nine years, asserts that this narrative is true in detail, and that it is not the imaginings of Christmas hilarity, for the spectators were perfectly sober, and he is a strict teetotaller himself.
Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1st January 1910.
Weird Tale of a Welsh Inn.
Occupants terrified by ‘spook’ missiles. Sound of padded feet. Live coal jumps out on to the table.
(From our own correspondent). Cardiff, Saturday.
There have been strange happenings at the Emlyn Arms Inn, in the small village of Llanarthney, Carmarthenshire. The place is alleged to be “haunted” by a “spook,” which is invisible, but has a soft tread, and finds malicious pleasure in throwing things about and keeping the tenants in mortal terror.
The animated movements of pieces of furniture, ornaments, kitchen utensils, and live coals proved so disconcerting that the landlady and her daughter left the house. The “manifestations” seemed to have resembled nothing so much as Maskelyne’s famous conjuring entertainment with jumping chairs and dancing tables; but as there was no trace of any stranger, be he practical joker or burglar, a spook agency is locally suspected. The ghostly visitant first made his presence felt on Wednesday night, when after closing the inn, Mrs Meredith, the landlady, whose husband was spending his holidays in North Wales, was pelted with stones as she was tending the cattle.
She attached no significance to this, but when her daughter, aged 13, responded to a knock at the front door a candlestick came whizzing through the passage.
When, soon afterwards, various missiles were hurled from every quarter of the kitchen, Mrs. Meredith shrieked for help, and dropped terror-stricken into a chair. Mrs. Jenkins, wife of the village constable, and her sister-in-law, Miss Jenkins, hurried to the house at midnight, but their arrival in no way stopped the “demonstrations.”
At 2.30 a.m. arrived Police-constable Gwilym Jenkins, who had been cycling through the colliery districts on duty. He says that upon visiting the house he concluded that a burglar was on the premises making frenzied efforts to escape. The constable organised a cordon of villagers in the hope of effecting the intruder’s capture, but no burglar was discovered, so the quest was continued on other lines. How realistic and bewildering the scene became may be gathered from the officer’s own narrative.
Constable’s Narrative.
“Missiles,” he said, “were flying about in all quarters, and despite all our investigations we could discover nothing to account for the strange happening. The theory of a villager’s larking had to be abandoned. I was assailed with bric-a-brac from all parts of a bedroom, and there was no one, so far as I could see, there to throw them, and while I was looking under a bed a large heavy black varnished stone ornament fell from the mantelpiece and nearly struck me.
“Candle-sticks whirled through the passage when I descended to the lower room, and, incredible as it may seem, live coals jumped on to the table in the front room. I also saw saucepan covers, teapot covers, and corks flying about, while blocks for holding the beer casks came up the cellar apparently self-impelled.”
Although he heard the tramping of “padded feet” on the stairway and in the upper chambers, he could find no-one. Bottles fell at his feet and were smashed.
The spectators, it is said, saw a polished box fall from Mr. Meredith’s waistcoat, which was hanging in the kitchen. This waistcoat was ironed by Mrs Meredith on the previous evening, and she could not have failed to notice the box had it been there then.
At 3.30 in the morning the landlady and her daughter sought refuge in the house of a mason employed by Earl Cawdor, who owns the inn, but when they returned the following morning with the constable, the mysterious happenings were resumed.
These occurrences were witnessed by other people, including the vicar and curate of the parish.
Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper, 2nd January 1910.
Llanarthney Ghost
Police Officer’s Story Confirmed
[By our own reporter]
Llanelly, Sunday.
I have just returned from Llanarthney, after having been engaged in an investigation of the mysterious happenings which have cast terror into an entire countryside. Ghosts and spooks are not every-day visitants, but there can be no doubt that most of the residents in this delightful old-world village are firmly convinced that one of these elusive personages was responsible for the extraordinary tumult which prevailed in the Emlyn Arms on Wednesday and Thursday of last week. Unfortunately, the “ghost” has now ceased operations. I was hoping to have actual experience of his doings, with, possibly, an opportunity of watching his modus operandi and explaining it to the readers of the “Evening Express.” But it was not to be. Order has now been restored at the Emlyn Arms, and the inmates of this comfortable hostelry are able to sleep o’ nights undisturbed by any nocturnal noises or the treat of ghostly feet in unoccupied rooms. The crockery which has been playing such fantastic tricks now hangs sedate and unmoved on the dresser. There are no bottles whizzing about in the air, and the only hot coals which I saw were those which one would expect to see in the fireplace. I was not assailed by fugitive candlesticks, nor did the stones and cobbles perform a hornpipe for my especial delectation. The fact of the matter is that the “ghost” has been effectively laid.
The perturbed “spirit” which has been in such disagreeable evidence during the absence of the landlord has disappeared, and when Mr Meredith – who, as has already been explained, was from home during several days of last week – returned on Friday, he found it difficult to believe that the sanctity of his home had been invaded by some mysterious visitor who had taken such unwarrantable liberties with his household go[o]ds and sadly upset the equanimity of the community.
The fact remains, however, that something very extraordinary has been happening at the Emlyn Arms. I had to-day the opportunity of closely questioning a number of well-known residents who are firmly convinced in their own minds that what they saw on Wednesday night and on Thursday morning was the work of some supernatural agency. All the ridicule in the world will not shake them in the holding of this conviction. Let me give in his own words the story detailed by a neighbour, which confirms what was already given in the “Western Mail” on Saturday.
“I entered the room behind the bar at the Emlyn Arms soon after ten o’clock on Wednesday night. There was a crowd gathered outside, it being thought there was a burglar on the premises. The door and the windows of this room were closed, and all of a sudden I felt a large stone whizzing past me. It did not come through the window, because all the glass is intact, nor could it have come through the door, because that was closed. Immediately afterwards some hot coals fell, scattering on the table and about the room. I picked one up, and there could be no question about it being hot. If you ask me where they came from I cannot tell you. All I can say is that the room was absolutely closed from the outside world, and I was standing near the fireplace, and am certain there was no one there. I was naturally frightened, and went outside and called in a neighbour. As soon as we came back into the room a bottle dropped at our feet, and was smashed into a thousand pieces, while stones from various directions whizzed past both of us. I can’t explain these things, but as to their having taken place I can vouch for them, because I speak that which I do know.”
Confirmation of the foregoing was forthcoming from several other sources. “Ghosts” are reputed to develop activity in the hours of darkness and to make a hurried departure at cockcrow. Not so, however, the Llanarthney ghost, who kept up this extraordinary fusilade until two o’clock on Thursday afternoon. During the whole of this time there were uncanny noises upstairs, and when the village constable went up to the bedrooms to ascertain the cause a heavy polished stone which stood on the mantelpiece as an ornament came hurling towards him, narrowly missing his head.
The first theory was that some burglariously inclined individual had made a raid on the house. This was what naturally came to the mind of the constable, who, having first taken the precaution to surround the house with some trusty villagers, proceeded inside to effect a capture. The most thorough search failed to discover anything in the shape of a burglar, and while the search was in progress all sorts of missiles were flying about in the air, the servant-maid being struck in the eye by one of them. What with the clatter of crockery, the noise of bottles being smashed, and large stones dropping on to the tables and other furniture, what wonder is it if the inmates were startled out of their wits? Up to nearly four a.m. on Thursday the search was continued, and was then abandoned on account of sheer fatigue. Mrs Meredith and her maid refused to stay in the house that night, and found shelter with a friendly neighbour. At seven o’clock Constable Jenkins returned to the scene, and found confusion everywhere. The shower of stones &c., continued from that hour until the afternoon, when it suddenly ceased, and absolute quiet has reigned ever since.
The theory of a burglar visit must thus be abandoned. No one with a nefarious intention would remain on the scene until the afternoon. Some of the villagers suggest that the whole thing is a practical joke perpetrated by one or more lads from farms in the district, and it is thought they took advantage of the absence of Mr Meredith to work off some of their pent up capacity for mischief. It is urged against this suggestion, however, that what happened could not be the work of one human being unless he were a veritable Briareus, blessed with a hundred arms to scatter bottles and stones and household utensils in various directions at the same time. That more than one person was engaged in it again is scouted by the police officer and those who were with him, they being emphatic in their statement that it was utterly impossible for anyone to have been concealed in the house.
Then, what is the explanation? That is the question I asked a score of times, and there is no satisfactory answer to it.
Evening Express, 3rd January 1910.
Ghostly Capers.
Weird happenings at a Welsh inn.
A story of weird happenings comes from the ordinarily peaceful village of Llanarthney, in Carmarthenshire. The landlady of an inn was, it is said, first pelted with stones at night while tending cattle in a field, and later her young servant girl, who answered a knock at the front door, was startled to see a candlestick come hurtling through the passage. But no human agency was in evidence.
The mystery became deeper when various missiles were dislodged from every quarter of the kitchen. The landlady, who was now terrified shrieked for assistance. A constable cycled to the scene, and, believing that his services were needed in order to arrest a burglar, he made minute search of the inn, and although he is said to have heard the tramping of padded feet on the staircase and in the upper rooms his quest for a burglar proved abortive.
Bottles fell at his feet and were smashed, a heavy black-varnished stone ornament jumped off a bedroom mantelpiece and fell close to his head as he was looking under the bed for the “burglar,” and teapot covers and other things came prancing down to his great astonishment.
Leominster News and North West Herefordshire and Radnorshire Advertiser, 7th January 1910.
A Rowdy Ghost.
At a public house between Carmarthen and Llandilo a ghost which throws stones has turned up. One of the stones hit a policeman. I do not believe in stone-throwing ghosts, but I do not say there is not a “spirit” of some sort in this public house disturbance. That ghost will find its way to prison if it is not careful, as it is illegal even for ghosts to throw stones at policemen.
Cambrian News, 7th January 1910.
The village of Llanarthney and its neighbourhood have been much perturbed during the last week in consequence of some inexplicable occurrences which have been going on at the Emlyn Arms public-house, in the centre of the village. Here uncanny noises were heard as if coming from the upstairs rooms, and various articles were thrown at the inmates of the house, until the place presented a most disorderly aspect. The news having spread that the place was haunted by a ghost, a number of persons gathered there, and several witnessed the mysterious operations, but every effort to fathom the mystery has proved unavailing. The Emlyn Arms is an unpretentious hostelry in the village on the main road from Carmarthen to Llandilo, with a cross-road directly in front leading to Porthyrhyd. On the right is the village post-office, and in close proximity is the Church Cemetery. The inn is kept by an aged man, John Morgan Meredith, and his wife, toghether with a servant girl whom they have just adopted. On Wednesday night, 29th ult., Mrs Meredith and the girl were alone in the house, the husband having gone to visit his relatives at his native place of Machynlleth. During the evening Mrs. Meredith went out to fetch the cows and when she was crossing the yard stones were thrown at her. She did not take much notice, but when she was returning to the house the key of the cellar door was hurled towards her from the passage. A little later the servant informed Mrs Meredith that someone was knocking at the door outside, whereupon the old lady told her not to open it, as it was after “stop-tap,” and a policeman might come. The knocking, however, continued, and Mrs Meredith ultimately opened the door, when she was startled to see no one there, but a candlestick flew past her, having been thrown from outside. An unearthly noise was afterwards heard, and the local constable was called in, whilst Mrs Meredith and her servant stayed for the night at a neighbour’s house. The policeman concluded that there was a burglar on the premises, and took steps to have the house surrounded while he made a search of the building for the supposed intruder. he looked high and low, but could not find anything, and whilst he was kneeling down to look under the bed upstairs he narrowly escaped injury by the hurling of a very heavy ornament from the bedroom mantelpiece. Various articles were thrown at him, and those who were with him in the house had a most unpleasant experience.
A “Western Mail” reporter visited the district on Friday. Although the people generally said that something very unusual had happened, they were loth to give particulars. The most authentic narrative was that given by P.C. Gwilym Jenkins, the resident officer in the village.
“It is a complete mystery,” said the constable and he proceeded to describe his strange experiences, being confirmed by his wife and sister-in-law.
“When Mrs Meredith,” he said, “was attending the cows on Friday night, just after stop-tap stones were thrown at her. She attached little importance to this, and thought someone was larking. When she was crossing the yard the key of the cellar door was hurled at her from the direction of the passage. After she got inside the house there was some knocking at the front door. When the little girl went with her to open it no one could be seen, but a candlestick came whizzing along the entrance of the passage. The old lady was not frightened and proceeded to bed, but as she and the little girl were going upstairs stones and clothes were thrown down, and the poor creatures scarcely knew what to do. On the landing the thing came to such a crisis that the neighbours were called in. I was not in the village at the time, and Mrs Jenkins and her sister were summoned.
“We were so frightened,” interposed Mrs Jenkins, “that we fetched Daniel Morgan, the postman, and his sister, Miss Jane Morgan. We did not venture inside the house until my husband came, but while standing outside we heard stones coming from the back part of the house to the front.”
Police constable Jenkins added that when he came back from his rounds in the colliery district on his bicycle there was a group of persons outside the Emlyn Arms, and he was informed that there was a burglar in the house. “I had the building surrounded,” he said, “so that the intruder could not escape, and went into the house, but the first thing I saw were stones coming down from upstairs. I then went upstairs and searched all the rooms, but failed to find anyone. I went up to the attic on a ladder, but there was no one there. I made a thorough search downstairs and the cellar and all the outhouses, with the same results, although stones were falling inside the building from somewhere all the time. Even heated cinders were flying about the place.”
“Hot coals! Where did they come from?” asked the reporter.
“Goodness knows” replied the constable, “I don’t, but they came from somewhere.”
“Quite true,” confirmed Mrs Jenkins, “they were actually jumping on the table and were quite hot.”
“And empty bottles and glasses were flying about, and fell smashing at our feet,” added the officer.
“I saw all this and much more,” emphasised Mrs. Jenkins. “I saw also old saucepan covers, old teapot covers, and corks coming down about us.”
“Quite right,” said the officer, “I picked up a dog chain and we could not see who was slinging these things. We were standing together and they were dropping in the middle of us. A polish box dropped from Mr Meredith’s waistcoat which was hanging int he kitchen – the very waistcoat which Mrs Meredith ironed that afternoon, and there could not have been anything in it then or she would have seen it. A tablespoon fell from somewhere and struck the little girl and hurt her. This would be about 2 o’clock on Thursday morning, after considerable watching for what we thought, first of all, to be a burglar.”
P.C. Jenkins added that it was a complete mystery to him. He had failed to find anyone in the house. He ridiculed the suggestion that someone might be perpetrating a hoax. The people were all frightened, and he and everyone in the house that night believed the place to be haunted. About twenty persons gathered round the house at the time of the disturbance, and during the day many came to see the place.
“You don’t think it was a lark on the part of someone else?”
“Oh, dear no.”
“It could not have been the servant,” emphatically observed Mrs Jenkins, “because she was in the kitchen where all these things were dropping about. She is only thirteen years of age and could not do such a thing.”
P.C. Jenkins explained that Mrs. Meredith and the girl were so frightened that they left the place about 3.30 in the morning and went to sleep at Brynderwen, the house of a neighbour, David Jones, a mason employed on the estate of Earl Cawdor, who also owns the Emlyn Arms.
“I should have mentioned,” added the constable, “that the blocks attached to the ‘wooden horses’ which hold the beer casks, were actually coming up from the cellar. How they were pushed forward I can’t say. I picked them up. I also heard a smash, and I made a bolt in the direction of the noise, but I failed to see anything. Then a tray was hurled from the bar into the kitchen.”
“And you made another bolt?”
“Yes, but I could not see anybody.”
He added that he could hear people moving about upstairs, as if someone were running barefooted. The noise appeared to be caused by one person, and was of an unearthly character. He called again about seven o’clock on Thursday morning, and stones were still coming down. Several people in the village entered the house and saw what happened.
A dog chain covered with lime, he added, was thrown into the place. Strange to say, it did not belong to the house, and no one saw it thrown. All the stones thrown were covered with lime, and seem to correspond with some stone outside. About two o’clock on Thursday morning I was upstairs making a search, and my wife was downstairs. I was crossing over the landing into another room when a mat tumbled downstairs and dropped on my wife’s head. There was a toasting fork hanging by the fire-place, and that dropped in the passage, although the kitchen door was closed at the time. A short time afterwards a pop-bottle fell by my side and smashed into bits.”
“You could not say where it came from?”
“No. It is so strong that I cannot fully describe it. If you were watching for things to come you coulc not see them. Whilst I was searching on my knees under the bed an ornamented stone which was on the mantel-piece dropped alongside of me.”
The weird disturbances continued up to two o’clock on Thursday afternoon, and a number of persons in the district witnessed the phenomena. The constable is convinced that it is a practical joke, but he cannot offer any explanation. Mr and Mrs Meredith have lived at the Emlyn Arms for over twenty years, and are about 65 years of age. It is said that nothing of a similar nature has happened in the house before.
The Welshman, 7th January 1910.
… The question is unanswered, and in the meantime the Emlyn Arms enjoys a popularity which it has never enjoyed before.
The Pembrokeshire Herald and General Advertiser, 7th January 1910
Evening Express, 1st January 1910.
The Llanarthney Phenomena.
By Reginald B. Span.
The little village of Llanarthney in South Wales was recently the scene of some remarkable phenomena, which lasted about sixteen hours, ending as suddenly as they commenced, and were as weird and uncanny as they were unaccountable.
Llanarthney is a pretty, peaceful spot situated in a beautiful valley about twelve miles from Carmarthen, at the foot of a range of picturesque well-wooded hills, on the summit of which stands Paxton Tower, and the ruins of another ancient castle. The surrounding country is some of the most beautiful to be found in Carmarthenshire, and is replete with romantic and historical associations. At the time of these “disturbances” (as they were locally termed), I was staying at Tenby in Pembrokeshire, and later I took an opportunity of going over to Llanarthney by rail to visit the spot where the phenomena occurred, and to make inquiries. I was too late to witness anything, so had to content myself with obtaining accounts of the affair from a number of reliable witnesses who had seen all that had taken place, and going over the house which had been disturbed in so strange a manner. This house is called the Emlyn Arms Inn, and stands in the centre of the village, with the post office adjoining on one side, and a grocer’s shop on the other, and exactly opposite is the police station, whilst a little way down the road lies the cemetery and ancient church.
Mr Morgan Meredith, the landlord of the Emlyn Arms Inn, courteously showed me over the house, but was very reticent concerning the disturbances. He had not been a witness of them himself, as at the time he was away on a visit to another part of Wales. Mrs Meredith was too unwell to talk, and besides could only speak Welsh, so I could obtain no information from that quarter personally, but before she had been taken ill, she had given a full account of what had happened to others, amongst whom was the police constable. I visited the police station and interviewed Constable Gwilym Jenkins and his wife, who gave me separate accounts of what they had seen and experienced, which they declared to be absolutely true. These accounts of the disturbances were corroborated and supplemented by several other prominent villagers and witnesses, including the station-master and other officials. The vicar (the Rev. John Jenkins), whom I questioned on the subject, said he had seen very little, as he did not arrive on the scene till midday the following day, when the phenomena had practically ceased, but the little that he did see, he confessed was quite unaccountable by natural causes.
The story of the affair, as gathered from various reliable and authentic sources, is as follows: –
On the evening of Wednesday, December 29, Mrs Meredith and a little girl named Mary Wilkins were alone in the Emlyn Arms Inn (Mr. Meredith being away on a visit). It was about closing time, and Mrs Meredith went out to see that her cows were all right before retiring. When crossing the yard on her return to the house a shower of small stones fell around her. She naturally concluded they had been thrown by some mischievous boys, but on looking around, failed to see or hear anybody, and still the stones flew by her, though she was not struck by any of them. A retreat into the house seemed advisable, but as she entered the door she was assailed from that direction also, and the key of the cellar door was hurled at her head from the passage. This was disconcerting, and she called Mary Wilkins (a child of thirteen) to her aid, and they kept a sharp look out for tricksters. However, nothing further happened. A little later, when seated in the kitchen, knockings were heard on the front door. At first Mrs Meredith took no notice (as it was after “stop tap”), but as the knocking continued, she sent the little girl to open and see who was there. Directly the door opened, a candlestick (belonging to the house) came whizzing past her, apparently thrown with force from some one outside, and rattled down the passage floor. The door was shut and bolted after that, but they were not thus to escape their invisible trickster, as queer things began to happen in the kitchen right before their eyes in the full light. Cooking utensils began to jump about and articles fell off the shelves and mantelpiece on to the floor, then various missiles were thrown at them every part of the room, so they hurriedly left the kitchen to seek refuge in their bedrooms; but as they ascended the stairs, stones, books, clothes and other things were thrown down on them, and when they reached the landing they were so pelted that they had to beat a retreat, and now, thoroughly frightened, rushed out of the house and across the road to the police station, where they narrated to Mrs Jenkins (the constable’s wife) the strange doings in the inn. Police constable Jenkins was away on duty, going the round of the colliery district on his bicycle.
Mrs Jenkins returned with them to the inn, where she was well pelted also, and it was then that the sound of padded feet running about the three front bedrooms was first heard which continued for hours afterwards, baffling all attempts to catch or discover whatever it was. These sounds were like the footsteps of a man running to and fro from one room to another with feet padded or covered with some thick soft material. Mrs Jenkins told me the sound was most weird and unearthly, and the impression she got at the time was of something very evil and uncanny – something she could not define or explain. These three rooms I carefully examined. They lead into one another and have no other means of entry or exit, except the small windows, which were fastened at the time, and front the main street and police station.
Mrs Jenkins, much alarmed, went out and returned with her sister and some of the neighbours, but the manifestations became so violent that they all had to come out and remain outside, from whence they could hear showers of stones coming from the back part to the front. About 2 a.m. Police constable Jenkins arrived on the scene, and coming to the immediate conclusion that there was a burglar there or some village youths playing tricks, he instituted prompt and vigorous measures for their capture and ejection. He organised a band of willing helpers, and first surrounded the house with a cordon of stalwart villagers to prevent any possible escape of the impudent intruders, then he and two others (of whom the railway porter was one), commenced to search the house very thoroughly. The first thing the constable saw on entering, were stones coming from upstairs. Leaving one of his helpers to guard the stairway and another to look through the lower rooms, he at once went upstairs alone and searched the bedrooms (being vigorously pelted with things all the time).
The padded footsteps retreated before him from one room to another and in the end room ceased altogether, only to sound again in the rooms he had just passed through. Backwards and forwards he rushed through the rooms pursuing the invisible footsteps, and never being able to see any one or anything. Every room was searched thoroughly. He ascended to the attic by a ladder, but there was nothing there. Once when bending down to search under a bed, a heavy black stone ornament was projected from the mantelpiece and nearly struck him. Bric-a-brac was thrown at him from all parts of the bedrooms. At last, very much puzzled and bewildered, and somewhat tired by his strenuous efforts at capturing the unknown, he descended to the rooms below, but as he was on the stairs a doormat was thrown after him and, going over the banister, landed on his wife’s head, who was below waiting (with some anxiety) for his arrival. He then went over the rooms below once more and searched the outhouses, and every cupboard, nook and cranny where any one could hide – doing his duty most zealously – but all in vain. There was not a sign of any one on the premises who could possibly be playing the tricks, though all the time stones were falling around them – apparently from the ceilings – and a quantity of lime was being thrown about – though where it came from no one could say. Hot coals flew about the kitchen, jumped on to the table smoking hot, apparently materializing from thin air. Mrs Jenkins said they were just as if thrown out of a fire, though she had no idea where they came from, as the kitchen fire was out.
Empty bottles and glasses were thrown into the kitchen from the passage and bar and smashed at their feet. A dog-chain was thrown at the constable and narrowly missed striking him in the face. He bent down and picked it up, and as he did so a cry of fright and pain came from the little girl as a tablespoon hovering in the air struck her sharply in the face. Curiously enough, this was the only instance where any one was struck so as to cause any pain amongst the hundreds of stones and other missiles thrown about violently for hours. I asked Mary Wilkins about this incident, and she said it frightened her very much, though the pain was not severe and no mark was left on her face. The vicar told me he thought it must have been a female ghost, as the missiles so seldom hit any one, which proved the ghost could not throw straight.
The covers of saucepans and teapots flew around their heads in the most remarkable manner, but no one was hit. Corks kept bobbing about on the floor as if endowed with animation. Constable Jenkins on one occasion noticed the blocks of wood attached to the wooden horses which hold the beer casks actually coming up the stairs from the cellar, exactly as if they were living creatures. He ran forward and picked them up; as he did so a tremendous crash sounded somewhere behind him, so dropping the blocks he rushed in that direction, but could find nothing. A moment after, a tea-tray was hurled violently into the kitchen from the bar. He then rushed in that direction, but still there was nothing to be seen. A toasting fork which was hanging in the kitchen dropped in the passage, though the door between the kitchen and passage was closed at the time. A polish box was seen to drop from a waistcoat belonging to Mr Meredith which was hanging up in the kitchen. Mrs Meredith had been ironing that garment a few hours before and there was certainly nothing in the pockets then.
The railway porter, who was in the thick of the disturbances, told me he had kept some of the stones which were thrown at him as souvenirs. The stationmaster was there for some time and saw most of the phenomena. he said the occurrences were most amazing and incredible. He confirmed Constable Jenkins’ account, as also did all the other witnesses. They all said trickery was out of the question, as any one playing tricks must have been caught.
The constable and his wife were absolutely convinced that it was due to some supernatural agency, though they are practical, matter-of-fact people who do not believe in ghosts and know nothing about psychic phenomena. Mrs Jenkins said she felt distinctly the influence of something evil, and added that everybody was afraid of it except the little girl. I met theh child, Mary Wilkins, as she was coming from school, and so was able to question her alone and have her unbiassed opinion and evidence. I found this little girl – who, I hear, is the adopted daughter of the Merediths – to be of a commonplace, healthy, country type with fair hair, chubby rosy cheeks, and an open straightforward expression. There was nothing but truth in her clear frank eyes, and I am sure she told me nothing but the truth.
What she narrated was practically the same as what I had heard from others, but when I said I had been told she was the only one who was not afraid, she laughed and replied she was very much frightened indeed, and very glad to get out of the house, when she and Mrs Meredith retired to a neighbour’s house at 3.30 a.m. to spend the rest of the night there. When first I heard of these “disturbances,” I jumped to the conclusion that this young girl was probably the unconscious medium for the phenomena – as such cases are by no means rare or infrequent – but there was nothing in the child’s appearance to favour this theory nor could I “sense” that she was in any way a psychic – and I flatter myself I can generally tell.
Mrs Jenkins told me that many of the phenomena occurred directly around the child, but her husband reminded her that most of them occurred upstairs, when Mary Wilkins was downstairs.
Mrs Meredith was greatly affected by the affair, and for some time was seriously ill. When I saw her she had only just been able to leave her bed, and was sitting crouching before the fire in the kitchen, a weak and feeble old woman with a much-lined haggard face, muttering a few broken sentences in Welsh. Her husband, however, is a fine-looking man, a typical Welshman, thick-set and strongly built, with bearded face and keen grey eyes. He declined to say anything about the affair. He was not there at the time and didn’t know anything about it, but surmised it must have been tricks, as there was nothing else in the world to account for it, though possibly the cat may have had a good deal to do with it. He brightened up at his idea of the cat, and said emphatically it must have been the cat; he had just remembered that the cat had had some kittens upstairs, and the noise of the “padded feet” was the faithful tabby running to look after its little ones. Thus did Mr Meredith summarily dispose of the remarkable “disturbances” which roused up a whole village, baffled the majesty of the law, and lasted sixteen hours. Another explanation, equally amusing, was put forward by many who heard or read about the affair, and was voiced by a constable in the train coming from Carmarthen to Tenby, and that was that poor little Mary Wilkins had done everything by means of wires and threads, etc. It would be difficult to imagine that stolid-looking little person, with her honest open countenance, as capable of playing the simplest of tricks, let alone feats which would have beaten anything Messrs. Maskelyne and Devant could perform.
The Rev. John Jenkins, who was present at the end, said he carefully watched those present and he was confident no one was playing tricks. The Rev. Mr. Rees witnessed many of the phenomena, but I was unable to interview him as he was away travelling in North Wales, and was only temporarily at Llanarthney. The postal officials were very reticent, though they witnessed some of the occurrences, and declined to give any explanation or opinion. A Mr Thomas, residing in the village, and a Mr Perkins, a farmer living near by, actively assisted the constable in his search, as also did Lloyd the porter.
It is possible there may be a recurrence of the phenomena in the village, as the unseen operator would probably still be there and is only awaiting favourable conditions for manifesting its presence again and emerging from its habitat in the fourth dimension sphere to startle humans with absurd antics and proofs of the close proximity of the Unseen Spheres in which not only good and evil spirits have their home, but all sorts and conditions of grotesque, undeveloped, mischievous and indescribable entities exist, and which are often so close to us that only certain atmospheric and physical changes are necessary to bring them into immediate contact.
The Occult Review, April 1910.
West Wales Failures.
John Morgan Meredith (62) was a land surveyor under the Ordnance Survey D partment when he married in June, 1887, the licensee of the Emlyn Arms, Llanarthney, a business which he had carried on since that year. He failed through insufficient trade and the ill health of his wife. His gross liabilities came to £343 5s 6d, his deficiency being £333 11s 10d. The Official Receiver observed that debtor’s was the inn at which a “ghost” had been discovered. It may be remembered that it caused quite a sensation. The examination was closed.
The Cardiff Times, 18th June 1910.
Night of fear in Carmarthenshire village.
‘Spirits’ bombarded innkeeper’s wife at Llanarthney.
By A.J. Maddox.
In the angle formed by the Roman road Via Julia and the modern “A.48” between Pontardulais and Carmarthen lies the centuries-old village of Llanarthney. Quite off the beaten track, all that the road traveller to the west ever sees of it is the “Llanarthney” signpost on his right at Porthyrhyd. The village is much the same today as at the time of its ‘ghostly’ visitation, 30 years ago, and in its general disposition might be described as typical of most Welsh villages: an ivy-covered church, a private house ‘police-station,’ and the village inn. This latter institution provides the background for a series of weird happenings which put Llanarthney into the columns of the national press on New Year’s Day, 1910, and drew special investigators hurrying from London.
One night, just after Christmas 1909, Mrs Meredith, wife of the landlord of the Emlyn Arms, Llanarthney, was attending to the work incidental to closing time in a country inn, her husband being away on a visit to North Wales. In common with numbers of other country public-houses, as is the case even today, the stock-in-trade of the Emlyn Arms included a few cows, and in the absence of her husband, Mrs Meredith’s last task before retiring was to see that they were properly housed. She was returning from the cowshed to the inn, when she was startled at finding herself the target for a shower of small stones. “Boys up to their tricks again,” she thought, and hurried into the house. As she passed through the door she was nearly struck on the head by the key of the cellar, which came flying toward her from the far end of the passage.
By now Mrs Meredith was getting annoyed, so that with 13-years-old Mary Wilkins, her only companion in th ehouse, she sat in the kitchen, determined to catch the practical jokers at their next move. Then came a tremendous knocking at the front door, which continued louder still when the landlady made no move to answer it. Eventually, little Mary Wilkins went to the door, and as she opened it one of the candlesticks belonging to the house flew past her, apparently from outside. She lost no time in barring and bolting the door, and the two frightened people, afraid to go to bed, sat huddled together in the kitchen.
This was only the beginning, however, and very shortly things really began to happen. Pots and pans moved wildly about; ornaments and other articles jumped off shelves and the mantelpiece to the kitchen floor, while from every corner in the room objects came flying at the terrified woman and her young companion. The kitchen had, by now, become impossible, so they made a hasty scamper for safety, they hoped, in their bedrooms, but were met on the stairs with a barrage of stones, books, and clothing. This became more fierce as they reached the landing, and, nearly falling over the stairs in their fright, they ran screaming from th ehouse.
Immediately opposite the Emlyn Arms was the home of the village ‘bobby’, Constable Jenkins, who at the time was out on his bicycle, patrolling the area around some of the neighbouring collieries. His wife, however, on being knocked up by the terrified landlady, offered her and her maid all the comfort at her disposal. Breathlessly the hysterical woman told her story, and in the absence of her policeman-husband, Mrs Jenkins volunteered to return with the two others to the inn, and lay the practical jokers at the heels. The policeman’s wife, a practical and self-possessed woman, was led a dance on her entry to the house.
As soon as she passed into the passage she was pelted from all directions, and was quite unnerved at the sound of ‘padded feet’ running from one to other of the three bedrooms on the upper floor. Every attempt was made, but with no success, to discover what or who was responsible for the strange disturbances. After a while, Mrs Jenkins, now thoroughly alarmed, left the house, to return presently with some of the neighbours. Pandemonium had now broken loose, and a large crowd of the villagers, gathered outside, heard showers of stones coming from the back to the front inside the house.
About two o’clock in the morning Constable Jenkins arrived. His definite opinion was that the disturbances were the work of a burglar, or else of some practical jokers from the village, and he at once made plans and secured volunteers to effect their capture. The house was surrounded while the policeman and his band of helpers entered to search the rooms. The ‘padded footsteps’ retreated from room to room before the constable, but not a sign did he or anyone else see of anyone or anything likely to be at the root of the trouble. All the time Constable Jenkins and his followers were undergoing a terrible fusilade of stones, ornaments, and bric-a-brac. Once, when he bent down to search beneath the bed, a heavy stone ornament jumped off the mantelpiece and nearly struck him on the head. Stones and other missiles descended around him, apparently from out of the ceilings. The footsteps would suddenly cease altogether, and then sound again in one of the rooms he had just left, until, tired out and thoroughly bewildered, the village policeman gave it up, and descended to the lower floor.
He had just reached the foot of the stairs when a door-mat came hurtling over the banisters after him, and struck his terrified wife on the head as she waited in the passage below. Jenkins searched every cupboard and corner in the house, and even climbed into the attic by means of a ladder, but there was not a sign of anyone on the premises. The bombardment of stones, ornaments and cutlery continued unabated, with the addition now of showers of smoking-hot coals flying about through the kitchen and landing on the table. Bottles and glasses flew along the passage and in the bar; covers of saucepans and teapots hurtled around the heads of the alarmed searchers, and at one time Constable Jenkins actually saw the wooden blocks from the horses beneath the beer-barrels come climbing up the cellar stairs as if they were human beings. Tea-trays, dog-chains and clothing flew through the air, and through it all not a sign or a clue was given as to the cause of the disturbances.
These happenings continued until the early hours of the morning, when they ceased, as mysteriously as they had begun. Mrs Meredith and Mary Wilkins had long ago retired to a neighbour’s house, in a state of collapse, bu the whole village was now gathered in front of the Emlyn Arms. Constable Jenkins, the station-master and a railway porter, who had both assisted him in the search, together with the vicar, who had arrived towards the end, began to take stock of the situation. Throughout the whole of that night no one had seen, either inside the house or out, the slightest indication that might have been of some use in solving the mystery, and most people were agreed that the strange happenings were caused by some supernatural agency.
A day or two later, Llanarthney was front page news in the London dailies, some of which gave lengthy and detailed accounts of the happenings in the tiny Carmarthenshire village. The “Occult Review,” a monthly magazine devoted to the investigation of supernormal phenomena, sent a special investigator to interrogate the principal actors in the drama, and afterwards printed a long article on “The Llanarthney Phenomena.”
Constable Jenkins and his wife, Mary Wilkins – Mrs Meredith was very ill after her terrible experience – the station-master, the railway porter, and the vicar, were among the large number of people questioned by the investigator, Mr R.B. Span, but nothing was then unearthed, nor has been to this day, which could throw any light upon the matter of the Llanarthney ‘ghost’ or ‘ghosts’.
The vicar at that time, the Rev. John Jenkins, is now living in retirement in Penllergaer, and he is convinced that a female “ghost” was involved, as it is rather remarkable that none of the missiles actually hit any of the people they were thrown at!
Herald of Wales, 11th March 1939.