Singular ‘Ghost’ Story From Peterborough.
A Frightful Scare.
The people of Peterborough are greatly disturbed concerning the extraordinary proceedings of a ghost. Some months ago a small house in Mayor’s-walk was to let, and it was taken by a railway man named Rimes, whose family consisted of his wife, brother, wife’s brother, and three children. Ever since going into the house they have been subject to the most extraordinary and terrifying experiences, until they were driven from the place.
For a long time they believed they were being made the subject of a practical joke, and every means was adopted to discover the perpetrators. Neighbours and others were called in, who sat up at nights watching, but they fled from the place in terror. A private detective, who had been successful in exposing impostures of a ghostly character, was also called in, but he fled before the morning dawned.
Whilst the inmates were in bed an invisible hand lifted the bed-clothes and threw them on the floor. The doors would be shaken with great violence. On one such occasion a door was partly broken, although Rimes was in the room at the time. But, perhaps the most terrifying part of the proceedings was the unearthly noises that accompanied these manifestations. One witness states that it was like a portion of the house falling in with a crash. Another described it as though a cart-load of bricks had been tipped up in the house. The noises varied, and occasionally were like a table laden with crockery being overturned. The private detective says he heard what he imagined to be a sack of coals drawn along the landing, and then thrown down the stairs. Strange to say, however, although the noises were so great as to alarm all the neighbours, nothing in the house was ever found displaced.
The visitations were almost invariably preceded by a low humming noise, as if caused by a rushing wind. The neighbours declare that their houses have been shaken as if by the reports of cannon. The noises were not always so dreadful. The Friday before Christmas Day, and the last night but one of the old year, were said to be the worst, and the noises on those days are said to have been most hideous, while several of the other houses in the vicinity were shaken, and the residents were awakened by the noise and greatly alarmed.
A number of witnesses, who had volunteered to watch in and about the house, all declare themselves incapable of explaining the extraordinary phenomena they witnessed.
Reynolds’s Newspaper, 10th January 1892. (and many others)
The Peterborough Ghost.
According to the accounts which proceed from Peterborough, Madame Boll, of Paris, has a companion in misfortune in a railway servant named Rimes. This unfortunate person, with his family, took a small house in Mayor’s Walk, only to find that it was already occupied by an invisible ghost with an invisible hand, which lifted bed clothes and threw them on the floor, leaving the slumberers to shiver with cold. Doors were also shaken with violence, and on one occasion, just about Christmas time, the shock on the premises was so terrific as to lead to the supposition in the neighbourhood that an earthquake or an explosion had taken place. Mr Rimes has removed to a more tranquil dwelling and the ghost infested abode is presumably to let. In these inquiring days of theosophy and Mahatmas there should be no difficulty in obtaining a fresh and more appreciative tenant.
Newcastle Daily Chronicle, 11th January 1892.
The Alleged “Haunted” House.
The “Mysterious Manifestations” Explained.
A Silly Joke Exposed.
The silly rumours with respect to a house being haunted at Mayor’s-walk, Midland-road, to which we alluded last week, have grown considerably during the last few days, and a local contemporary having given credence to the stories current, a paragraph appeared in “The Daily News” on Saturday to the following effect: [as the Reynold’s Newspaper story above.]
One of our representatives visited the neighbourhood on Saturday evening to see on what foundation this remarkable superstructure was raised, and if possible to solve the “mystery,” and he succeeded even more quickly than he had anticipated. He found that the neighbours generally ridiculed the story, and that “the ghost” was the subject of playful badinage, though one or two nervous persons were somewhat concerned about “the mysterious manifestations,” as they have been termed. The subject was treated with much jocularity, and the reason for this our representative quickly discovered on coming across a Great Northern Railway employee who lives near the house so recently vacated by the Rimes’s.
“Talking about the ghost, are you?” he enquired, “why it’s gone and I saw it go on New Year’s-eve.”
“So you know know something about it,” queried the reporter. “Yes,” he went on,”I’ll tell you what I saw. I was coming home on New Year’s-eve, between eleven and twelve, walking leisurely along, and had nearly reached the corner of the road near the opening that goes down to the cattle pens, when all of a sudden, and without the least doubt intentionally, a man jumped out right in front of me, and then rushed off across the fields at the back of the houses at full speed. He could run, I can tell you, but I know him, and could mention his name if I liked. If there is anything foolish he will be in it. If he had not been there for a prank he would have said “Good night.” Of course, naturally, I was taken back for a moment, but then I said to myself, ‘We have seen the last of the ghost!'”
“You think this man knows something about the ‘mysterious manifestations’ at Rimes’s house?” “Yes, there’s no doubt about it.” “How do you account for the noises which have frightened the Rimes’s?” “Why, it was easy enough to rattle the back door, or have thrown stones on the roof, which make a great noise.” “But that does not altogether explain all we are told.” “No, but the other things are as easily explained. I was smoking a cigar as I came home on New Year’s-eve, and to finish it, I walked as far as the ‘haunted house.’ It had been said that mysterious lights had been seen in the house, and as I stood against the palings smoking, the lights sure enough shone full in my face. It was the railway signals right up the line, which turn red and green at intervals. That is one of the trifling things which have caused so much fuss.”
“Would they not shine in the other houses?” “No, that was the house they were level with, and they shone right into it.” “But what about the noise in the house?” “I am coming to that,” he answered. “Nothing has been said about a big dog the Rimes’s keep, as well as a cat, which were never turned out at night. These two running up and down stairs at night would make a tremendous noise, and in those single bricked walls it would sound too.” “And do you think the cat and dog playing up and down the steps and in the passage would cause such a commotion as has been described?” “Undoubtedly, for when a cat jumps about in a place like that it does sound, to say nothing of the dog. It is my firm conviction that it is nothing else, and the tales are a lot of humbug!”
“What do you say to sleeping there?” “Well, I offered to sleep there, and am willing to do so from to-night until Monday if I am paid for it.” “And you are fully assured that it was the dog and cat which caused the noise as of a sack of coals being thrown down the stairs?” “Yes, that is my firm conviction, and all tales are absurdities. Such things are always exaggerated. No noise has been heard since they left, and that confirms what I say.”
Further enquiries tended to confirm these statements. Before meeting the G.N. man our Representative found the tenants of No. 23 Mayor’s walk – next to the “haunted house” – at home, and interviewed them. They said they had taken no trouble to unravel the matter, as they had heard nothing since the Rimes’s left. They expressed their conviction that the noises were not caused by rats, though they had formed no idea of the cause of the disturbance. “I heard a noise a week ago last Wednesday (the night before New Year’s-eve) and I was shaken in my bed,” said the wife. “Don’t you think it was a prank on the part of someone in the neighbourhood?” asked the Express man. “Well, the husband replied, “we could catch no one, and there have been as many as seven persons watching, including a telegraph boy with a bullseye lantern and a big stick!”
“But there were no noises or any signs of ‘the ghost’ while anyone was watching?” “No,” was the reply. “If I had seen anyone acting the fool I should have given him a taste of that (pointing to his gun) with a four inch cartridge.” “Has it affected anyone’s health?” “Yes,” put in the wife, “it greatly affected Mrs Rimes.” “What do you make of the doors slamming to and fro?” “I only go by what I hear,” said the woman, “but one night I heard someone rattling at the back door and then enter the kitchen, when the family were upstairs, and the noise sounded as though someone was treadinng heavily round it.”
In this narrative will be found the explanation of the Mayor’s-walk “mystery,” and the man who was playing the ghost will probably get into trouble if he repeats his silly joke.
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To the Editor of the Express and Mail.
Sir, – I beg to inform you that the house, 21, Mayor’s-walk, is not haunted with rats. When the people left the house, the “Ghost” left with them, as nothing has been heard since the house has been empty.
Yours truly, William Goode. 23, Mayor’s-walk, Jan. 8th 1892.
Peterborough Express, 13th January 1892.
The Peterborough ‘Ghost’. A Possible Explanation.
A correspondent writes to the Standard:- Will you allow me space to say a few words regarding the ghostly sounds said to have been heard at 22, Mayor’s-walk, Peterborough, and recorded in your columns on January 9th? A similar occurrence took place some years ago in an old cathedral town with which I am very well acquainted, to the terror of the inhabitants of a certain lonely house. Humming, rolling, rumblings and crashings were heard, for which, at the time, no explanation could be given. The whole thing was soon after found out. The old city boasted numerous ancient subterranean passages, some of which were being explored. Some young men and boys gained access to one of these through a shaft in a private garden, and by hammering, rolling heavy weights, and howling and shrieking in the passage at the dead of night, created the horrible and alarming sound complained of. These passages convey sound in a wonderful manner. When exploring one of such passages with some workmen late one evening, the sound of our feet, voices, &c., were distinctly heard by the inhabitants of houses in a street some distance off, much to their alarm, the tunnel conveying the noise, and causing them to think the sounds proceeded from immediately below their houses. Such passages exist in Peterborough without any doubt, for I have seen one myself, and may this not be an explanation of the mysterious and awe-inspiring sounds?
Hull Daily Mail, 14th January 1892.
Mysterious Manifestations in a Peterborough Cottage.
The neighbourhood disquieted by a noisy “ghost.”
Alarming nocturnal noises have compelled a family to desert their home in Mayor’s Walk, Peterborough; have terrified residents on either side of the house, and have filled the neighbourhood with wonder and excitement and some people with fear. We herewith give the story as it has been carefully collated from the occupiers of the house who have been shocked and put to flight by the uncanny midnight visitant, and from others living contiguous to the premises who have likewise suffered from the mysterious manifestations.
On the west side of the city of Peterborough there has sprung up quite a colony of cottages mostly tenanted by railway people, lying to the west and adjacent to the Midland Railway and its local works. This section of the city is approached from Thorpe-road, or by the far more convenient connection in the shape of Spital Bridge crossing the Midland Line, and is composed of a series of streets, comparatively new, in which tenements of rentals varying from perhaps £12 to £13 predominate. One of these thoroughfares is known as Mayor’s Walk, and amongst the small property are several cottages, owned by a Wisbech builder, forming part of a continuous row. With the exception of one, No. 22, the whole property is let, No. 21 being occupied by a well known railway driver named Butler, and No. 23 by an equally known railway guard named Goode.
Six months ago or thereabouts, No. 22 fell vacant, and there came from Roger’s Street to live there Mrs Rimes the wife of a railway employe, having a family of three boys and taking in two lodgers – her brother and brother in-law, Messrs. Want and Easy, also employed, we believe, on the Midland Railway. Mr and Mrs Rimes, it may be stated, for some time were innkeepers at Crowland, and for a period of 12 years were engaged on the farm of Mr Bunting, at Whittlesea. These good people disclaim bringing with them into the neighbourhood any such luxury as a “family ghost,” and were therefore much surprised soon after their settlement in this particular quarter of the city at being saluted at various hours of the night with most unwelcome and unexpected rappings at the front door and against the partition wall of the building – noises most unmistakeable and unwelcome.
The boys – so goes the story – experienced midnight intruders, and on one occasion both lodgers and boys were suddenly deprived of their bed-coverings. All these occurrences of course were put down more or less to fancy, or to concluding the day with a heavy meal, the effects of which are not unknown as nightmare. And so things went on more or less noticed until the midnight interruptions assumed a more aggressive form and aroused the whole household – in fact, not only aroused the occupants of the house, but positively deprived them of sleep, agitated the neighbours – such is the testimony of the neighbours herewith appended – and on more than one occasion compelled Rimes and the lodgers to relinquish sleep altogether and group around the kitchen fire with light aflame until daylight broke.
The particular locality of the later and most remarkable visitations was the upstairs passage, or landing, by which access is gained to all the bedrooms, as the following rough sketch will show: –
The brother, Mr Want, we understand, occupied the front bedroom with one boy, Easy the second bedroom with two boys, and Mr and Mrs Rimes (when the husband was at home) the small room; the lodgers and the boys sometimes changing. For six weeks passed at varied times in the night the passage (which abuts Mr Butler’s passage), it is said, resounded with the most alarming noises, generally preceded by the “booming of a telegraph wire;” nothing could be seen, but at intervals during the night there would appear to be the tramp of a heavy tread – heavier, say the lodgers, than anyone in th ehouse could make, along the passage, the wall would echo with “an unearthly thumping,” the bedroom doors would shake “as if the house would be shaken down” – such as no man unobserved could make them shake and on one occasion the violence was such that the handle was shaken from the door.
Again and again we are assured the men, and Mrs Rimes and the children, would jump up and go into the passage, and the noise would temporarily cease, but only to commence the instant they had retired, and if they shouted out, there was also a cessation for a brief space. In the front room Want, after a time, laid with the bed so arranged as to enable him to sweep the passage with his eyes, but we are told that the noises were as rampageous as ever; he could “feel the noise,” so close and susceptible was it, but he could discern nothing or no one. This practice was adopted by the others, with no result. There was a determination all round to trace the cause, and each set about his own way individually, and after united counsel, to solve the problem, but were baffled.
On the Friday before Christmas, the manifestations were distressing, and were particularly audible, also to the Goode family and the Butler family, the neighbours, who in their statements conceal neither their discomfiture nor their perplexity. But the climax is said to have been reached on Wednesday, the last night but one of the old year. On this occasion the lodgers besought Mr A Wright, employed at the G. E. R. goods sheds, to lodge with them for the night, to convince him of the hideous noises.
The house was carefully locked up, windows fastened, and the occupants of the rooms duly regarded. A few minutes after 12 came the heralding humm-m-m-m along the bedroom passage, and then a fearful smash! Wright and all the occupants of the rooms rushed out – could see nothing, and the passage appeared as if nothing had taken place. And then all assembled together in one room, and the strange crash was repeated, though in a modified form. That night no one dared go to sleep again, and all sat up by the fireside, devoutly wishing for daybreak. The noise was so alarming that Mr Butler describes it as like “the fall of a house into the passage,” and Mrs Goode, on the other side, “like the explosion of a great gun which shook the house and all in it. The noise before it was like that when a boy rubs the string of his toy telephone.”
On Friday the family left, and are now living in Monument Street; and whilst Mrs Rimes declares she has had no sleep at night for six weeks, Want and Easy give similar testimony, that for nights and nights they have never closed their eyes, and neighbours corroborate the probability of this evidence.
The house, it should be mentioned, has no cellar and no attic, and the noise in the passage and rattling of the interior doors seemed altogether disproportionate to the average strength or movement of any human individual. The suggestion of a prank being played by any of the inmates or neighbours is indignantly scouted, and the absence of motive and the impossibility of this being the case without detection, are pointed to. From a personal inspection of the house, we may add that the premises inside and out do not appear such as would easily contribute to any practical joke which should have such a boisterous effect.
Following are the statements of the parties concerned, which were given more with an evident desire to bring about a solution of these alarming noises, than with any aim to secure publicity, or merely to recount experiences. In each case the evidence has of necessity to be somewhat curtailed.
Statement of the Tenant.
Mrs Rimes, the tenant of the cottage at the time the alleged occurrences took place, was visited at her new house in Monument-street. She appeared a strong, cheerful woman, about 45, and said that her husband was a special labourer on the railway, and was away from home for nights together. It was quite true, she observed, that she left Mayor’s Walk because of the singular things that occurred at night, owing to which she continued
“I can assure you, sir, I have not had a night’s sleep for six weeks or more. We are not likely to be very nervous people without a cause for my husband and myself lived in Whittlesey Fen for 12 years – that was lonely enough! But to start from the beginning. The first time anything happened was in October or November. My middle boy, Arthur, was working away, and he came home on the Saturday for the Sunday. I had just got into my bed at about 11 o’clock on Saturday when he shouted out “Did you come into my room just now mother?” I replied “No boy, I should think I didn’t.”
“Well no more was said until breakfast the following morning, when he again asked “Are you sure, mother, you didn’t come into my room.” I replied, “No,” and he said “Mother I am sure someone did!” I replied that it was all nonsense, but he would have it that he heard someone distinctly come into the room. He after that went away to work and we heard nothing more from him.
“One night later we had all got to bed, and I had dozed off to sleep when these two children (by her side) shrieked out that someone had pulled the clothes off them. I tried to persuade them it was not so, but my brother said he had experienced the same thing – the clothes being ‘pulled off in the centre.’ Well, these things passed off, but we used to hear queer noises, and we thought it were next door folks and used to say, “what noisy people they are,” although I could not quite think it could be them.
“But one night towards Christmas, about a quarter to two o’clock, we had all got nicely laid down when we were roused by a knocking in the inside of our bedroom passage. It was a loud noise, and there came a humming before it. I went out to see what it was, and so did all the others, and for a few minutes it left off. We went back and it came on again and the noise was very loud as of someone stamping along the passage. None of us could make anything of it, and not being able to sleep we all went downstairs. The noise continued – I can’t describe it – and we all sat together till daylight, and the knocking kept on. Well, it went on nightly for nearly a week, the lumberings up and down our bedroom passage were dreadful, and the bedroom doors opened and shut violently. It was frightful; none of us slept.
“One night a young chap, Mrs Speechley’s milkman, of Newark, stayed with us, and that night we all again had to get up. It seemed to be worse if anyone was there, the same as on the night when Mr Wright came. He wouldn’t believe us, so my brother asked him to sleep in the house. The noise was awful; I can’t explain it, I don’t care to think of it.
“I’m not superstitious, but my brother-in-law lost his wife a year ago and he rather thought it was something intended for him, but she died happy enough. I heard myself strange rappings at the window before my sister died. The night before I came away there were three distinct knocks at the back door, and the door rattled violently. I went to it, thinking it was Mrs Goode wanting me to go to the Watch-night services, but it wasn’t; there was no one there.”
Asked for an illustration of the noise, she added: “I can’t tell you exactly what the noise was like. Once it was very tinny, like the lid of a tin box being rapidly lifted and shut, and another like a load of bricks being shot down. Yes, the men tried to understand it all, and Want slept in the front room,looking down the passage, and heard the noise, but could see nothing. The rumour that I saw an object come down the chimney like a flaming red and black dog is not true – things are bad enough without such untruths. It probably arose through Wakelin and Goode’s son-in-law having seen, as they thought, something like a black dog jump into the air, after knocking at my back-door, and not show itself again.”
Statement by a Lodger.
The brother of last witness, Want, employed in the Midland goods sheds, at this juncture came home from his work and volunteered similar information to that told by Mrs Rimes. “Look here, sir,” said he “the door went o’nights like this (and he rattled the door of the room quickly to and fro), only much harder, as if the house would come down.” But wouldn’t the wind rattle the door? “Not much wind about that! Wright, who was with us on Wednesday, would not believe it until he saw it. The banging in the passage, too, was dreadful, and in the end we all got up at two o’clock and sat round the fire.
“This was frequently happening, times out of number. I wouldn’t trouble about it; there was nothing to be seen, or I should have soon got out of bed many a time.” Did you ever speak when you heard the noise? “Yes, many times; I said, ‘Halloa! come inside and let’s see what you are.’ It used to leave off knocking; but on Wednesday it didn’t.” Rats? “Rats, sir would not shake the house like that. No, it was no rats, and no one of our party in the house could be doing it when we were all together, could he? And it was no neighbour for they were roused and as put about as much as we.”
Statement of the Neighbours at No. 21.
It so happened that on the occasion of the writer’s visit to the neighbourhood on Tuesday the residents on either side of the empty house were at home – both husband and wife. At No. 21 there lives Mr Butler (who we have said is well-known amongst railway workers at Peterborough), his wife and family. They readily acquiesced in giving their testimony to the strange goings on next door. “The bedroom passage of No. 22, said Mrs Butler, runs by the side of ours with only a thin wall between, so we had every opportunity of hearing the noise. I may tell you – my husband is laughing, but he was as startled as anyone when he happened to be home and heard it – that the rappings and the funny noises lately have kept me awake night after night.”
“Certainly,” chimed in Mr Butler, “the noises on Wednesday night last were awful. Now, I did hear those, and I must admit I didn’t like it.” What was the noise like? “Well, I can hardly tell you. At one time it was something like, as you could imagine, a giant tearing up a kitchen table and hurling the pieces down the stairs; but another time it shook the whole house, and I can only compare it to the noise that might be occasioned if an outhouse with all the slates had fallen down in the passage. I can’t make it out, and whilst I can never believe anyone next door did it, we are glad to say that since they left we have not heard anything of the sort. We’ve lived here 14 years and never heard anything like it before. You could hear the people next door talking to each other in their fright. It’s a rum thing; it kept on for such a time too. On Friday before Christmas it was bad, but last Wednesday it was something terrific. The noise was unearthly, and aroused the whole lot of us.”
Statement of the Neighbours at No. 23.
Mr and Mrs Goode, with their family, live on the other side of the house, with their bedrooms next to the bedrooms of No. 22. The mysterious bedroom passage would thus be much farther off from them than from the Butler’s. But even they heard the noises.
“I am mostly on night duty,” said Mr Goode, “but come in and my wife will tell you all about it.” Mrs Goode, who, like Mrs Butler, did not appear the woman to be frightened unnecessarily, said that she had been really put about by the awful noises next door, and although she did not see much of Mrs Rimes, yet she pitied the poor woman for the sleepless nights she must have experienced, and which her face showed. The lodgers, too, poor fellows, had little sleep, for she could hear them talking to each other night after night about the horrid noises then taking place in the house, and the children as well. Recoundting many of the lesser manifestations, Mrs Goode passed on to speak of the Friday before Christmas, when she said she was sewing some buttons on her son’s things, and she heard an awful noise in the next house, like the explosion of a cannon, which completely shook the house and her in the chair. She ran to bed and covered her head in the clothes. It woke the others in the house. At other times the doors would rattle until the whole place resounded. Generally all this took place at about half-past eleven o’clock at night, and would continue till after twelve.
But on Wednesday last the noise surpassed everything before. It was like some heavy thing being rolled along the passage and bumped up and down stairs. The people next door – the Rimes – were quiet people, not quarrelsome or anything of that, and these noises took place when everything was as quiet as possible. For many and many a night she had been unable to have a good night’s rest.
Mr Goode corroborated what he less enthusiastically called “the curious noise,” which certainly sounded unreal, but he comforted himself and wife with the thought that if there had been some occult visitation the ghost or whatever it might be had left the house at the same time the Rimes’s had, for it had never been heard since. He had lived next door for 13 years and had never heard anything of the kind before the Rimes’s came to live there. He did not believe in ghosts or anything like that, but he must own these funny goings on puzzled him very much. They were moreover very serious for they had alarmed the whole neighbourhood.
Statement of Arthur Wright, the “Detective.”
On Wednesday night Arthur Wright, employed at the G.E.R. Goods Shed at Peterboro’, and living in Eastgate, being known to Want and Easy, and being incredulous on the “ghost story” being told, elected to sleep with the men in the house. In fact he was to act the detective. It was on the memorable Wednesday which proved to be the climax of the manifestations. He described that he had not been to sleep very long before he was awakened by the sound as of a warning tap on the wall of the passage. “Hallo!” he shouted in a spirit of bravado, “you’re here again are you?” and at the same moment sprang out of bed. All the other people were snug in bed – and Mrs Rimes’ door was closed. He retired again, and then came the most unearthly noise which he could only compare to a sack of coals being toppled pell mell down stairs. He rushed out on to the staircase, but could see nothing; neither could he hear anything more for the time.
He assured himself that it was none of the children nor Mrs Rimes, nor his two upgrown friends – it was impossible for it to be them, and they rushed from their beds as scared as he. He admitted that he was frightened because the noise was so unearthly and so very mysterious. They all came out of their rooms and grouped themselves together in one room – making sure that all were there – and then again they heard the knockings and thumpings, though not so serious as the last. He left the house as early that morning as he could, considerably perplexed, especially as he went there – having had experience of so-called ghosts before – to see the matter through.
Other Statements.
Easy, the other lodger, gives testimony precisely similar to that already related by the others as to the succession of nocturnal disturbances, and the Newark milkman follows in the same strain with regard to the Friday before Christmas.
The owner of the house is Mr Rands, of Wisbech, and it is with his concurrence that the account of the perplexing manifestations alleged to have taken place on the premises and testified to by so many witnesse, is published. At the same time, having given the strange story for what it may be worth, it is only fair to give due prominence to the fact mentioned by the neighbours on either side, and by Mr Rands and his agent, that there have been no complaints of similar occurrences during any previous tenancy, and since the Rimes have left the noises have ceased.
Buckingham Advertiser and Free Press, 16th January 1892.
The “Ghost” Story.
An extraordinary proceeding. Remarkable bravery!
The Mayor’s Walk “Ghost” story is still the subject of considerable amusement. On Friday the Head Constable received the following telegram, reply paid, and signed by a man named Skrimshaw, 5, Babbington-street, Nottingham. Will you allow three experts to stay in the supposed haunted house next Monday? The Head Constable, thinking that the telegram proceeded from a member of the Psychical Society, replied “Certainly,” and later on he received another telegram – Please say if mystery is fathomed. If so, no use our coming. Wire, reply paid. The Head Constable at once replied that the ghost went with the tenant. Later in the evening, however, another telegram was received at the police station as follows: – We shall arrive at 5-15, Monday. (The telegram was signed “Ghost.”) From this the Head Constable thought the arrangements were completed for the arrival of the scientific gentlemen. He subsequently received a letter stating that a party would leave Nottingham by the 2.10 train on Monday, giving their reasons for coming by saying that great interest has been taken in the matter by personal friends and the public. They asked that the public should not be acquainted with their purpose, further that a cab might be ordered from Mr Shepherd to take them to the house, the letter concluding with the words “Keep all private,” and signed by the man Skrimshaw.
What followed will explain the precautions which were taken. The train was down to arrive at 5.55, and the Head Constable, supposing that they were coming for truly scientific purposes, had not the least idea but what the new tenant (the house was let last week, though it is not yet occupied) would allow the visitors to enter the house. He had expected that on their arrival they would first go to the police-station, but at seven o’clock they had not put in an appearance, and he at once repaired to the “haunted” house. Seeing a boy going in with a jug of beer he followed, and a strange scene confronted him. Around a roaring fire were seated three men who from their blue slops he took to be butchers’ slaughterers. They were exceedingly comfortable and engaged in smoking. Around the head of each was twisted a towel, and each wore a towel round his neck. They had evidently been drinking freely. He asked how they obtained admission, and one of them replied that they borrowed the key from the next door neighbour. They were told they had no right to go there without the tenant’s permission, and the tenant at that moment came up and informed them that they would have to clear out.
The men asked to be allowed to remain until a Mr Barr arrived, who, it turned out, was Skrimshaw’s agent and an eating-house keeper. On his putting in an appearance he was told that they would not be allowed to stop there as they had not come in the proper manner, but they would be allowed to remain provided they had come down for scientific purposes. Mr Lawson reminded them that they had not come down in a quiet manner, quite the opposite, they had made the matter as public as possible, and would without doubt, cause a great deal of disturbance in the neighbourhood. As they were about to leave the man Skrimshaw, who had been arranging supper in the town for the men, drove up, and the visitors then went away, and before eight o’clock they left for Nottingham. The affair is explained by a paragraph in the “Nottingham Tissue” of Friday headed “Nottingham to the front,” in which it is said that three persons had guaranteed to stop in “the haunted house at Peterborough” from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. on the night of Monday, 18th. If the matter was concerned with a bet, without doubt the “ghost hunters” were the losers, and they went away considerably crestfallen. The railway carriage which conveyed them to the city was labelled “We are going to Peterborough to find the ghost!”
Mr F. Carroll, of Midland-road, the G.N. employee who was interviewed by one of our representatives last week, writing in reply to a letter in a contemporary from R. Butler, Mayor’s Walk, says that his statement that he saw the last of the ghost proved to be correct, for no more has been heard of it. He makes the definite charge that persons in the house caused the disturbances which so affected next door neighbours, and he says he will give the name of the “ghost” to Mr Butler if he will call on him.
Peterborough Express, 20th January 1892.
Searching for the Peterborough “Ghost!”
On Friday Head-Constable Lawson received a telegram from Nottingham asking him if he would allow three experts to stay in the supposed haunted house in Mayor’s-walk. He replied “Certainly,” and on Monday a party arrived from the lace town, includimg three men dressed as butchers, who it transpired had undertaken for a wager to stay in the house from six p.m. to the following morning. Prior to their arrival they had evidently consulted the “spirits,” and having obtained admission into the house proceeded to make merry.
The Head-Constable was under the impression that the experts were connected with some Scientific Society, and when he found out the character of the proceedings he took immediate steps to have the ghost hunters ejected. In the meantime a considerable crowd had gathered in the neighbourhood, and as the brave ones and their friends came out they were subjected to no small amount of chaff. The last that was heard of the merry party was that they had missed the last train to Nottingham, and had to stay in the city all night. We might say nothing more has been heard about the “ghost” since the last tenants left the house.
Peterborough Standard, 23rd January 1892.
A Ghost Laid. – Nemesis has overtaken us. In an incautious moment, and in the absence of “big gooseberries,” “sea serpents,” and such like, we borrowed a ghost story from a Birmingham contemporary. It referred to a ghost of a very violent disposition, who wished to have a certain house all to himself at Peterborough [continues in same vein as story at top].
– And only to think that such an interesting story has been knocked on the head, and that we are indebted to Mr. J. S. Lovett for a most complete exposure! Mr Lovett, although thoroughly satisfied in his own mind of the absurdity of the story, gave us no loophole for escape, and wrote to the superintendent of police at Peterborough for a vindication of his belief, with the result that a reply was received as follows: –
“A farce – no ghost – no detective. John W. Lawson, Head Constable.”
Swindon Advertiser and North Wilts Chronicle, 30th January 1892.
An Irish Ghost Story. (By Sylvia Penn).
Apropos of the recent “ghost” scare at Peterborough, reported in a recent issue of the Advertiser, the following account of an “Irish ghost” may prove interesting, as in two point – the humming sound and the noise of breaking and crashing, without any apparent results – they are almost identical. The story was related to me by the Rev. John B. Charlton, son of the principal actor in the scene, and is, I believe, thoroughly authentic.
At the time of its occurrence, Mr Charlton, senior, who had just commenced business in Monaghan, occupied a house whose former proprietor, one Burgess, had lived a notoriously evil life, and whose awful death-bed – he died raving “It’s fire and prison! fire and prison!” – had struck terror into the hearts of all who witnessed it.
Mr Charlton, who I may here say was a Protestant, slept upon the first floor; his old housekeeper, a Roman Catholic, up in the attic. One night, shortly after retiring to rest, he heard a sound like the humming of a “bumble bee” proceeding from beneath his bed. At first, thinking it was a bee that by some means had found its way in, he took no notice; but, the sound increasing, he raised himself on his elbow to listen, when to his surprise and consternation the sound appeared to come bodily out into the room, and growing louder as it ascended towards the ceiling, and went off with almost a “roar” in the direction of the upper rooms!
Never in all his life had he heard such a noise, and no natural explanation being forthcoming, he was just questioning whether it could have any mysterious connection with the wicked life and awful death of his predecessor in the house, when a confused sound of banging and clattering began above, followed by hurried knocking on the attic floor.
Determined to see what was going on and unravel the mystery, Mr Charlton sprang out of bed, with a prayer for aid, for he was a God-fearing man, and lighting his candle made for the stairs. He had not, however, gone many steps before his light went out. Thinking it strange, as he could feel no wind, he returned; and, relighting it, proceeded once more to the charge. Again the candle was extinguished, and again he descended and relit it, but this time he armed himself with a glowing peat from the kitchen hearth, exclaiming as he remounted the stairs, for his Irish blood was up, “Now, thin, let ye be devil or what ye will, I’ll claw the face off ye if ye blow it out again!”
Apparently the threat was effectual, for this time he succeeded in reaching the attic without interference. There he found the old woman cowering under the bedclothes half dead with fright. Thinking the best way to reassure her was to affect unconsciousness of anything extraordinary, he asked her if she had rapped and what was the matter.
“Mather!” she cried. “Mather, indade! Shure, an’ isn’t everythin’ split t’paces in th’room, win it’s bin knocked an’ banged this way an’ that?”
“Nonsense!” said Mr Charlton, looking round, and seeing no trace of disturbance. “Nothing’s broken. Ye’ve bin dreamin’ Molly.”
“Dramin’ is it ye say? Dramin’, wi’ th’ divil himself a rampin’ round! Och; I’m just kilt intirely wid the fright!”
“The divil was it ye saw, Molly?” enquired her master, slily. “Where was yer holy water thin? Why didn’t ye sprinkle him?”
“Indade, sor, an’ the holy wather was no use at all this time. An’ it’s jest afeard t’lie i’ me blessed bed I am, wi’ th’ goings on. Shure, I’ll roll myself in me blanket, an’ slape be th’ pate in th’ kitchen!”
And in spite of her master’s remonstrances she bundled the bedclothes round her, and preceding him down stairs, spent the remainder of the night on the kitchen hearth. No further disturbance happened, either that night, nor, so far as is recorded during the remainder of Mr Charlton’s tenancy, neither was there forthcoming any explanation of the scare. So whether it was really the “Yeama Rupa” of the wicked Burgess disporting itself once more in its old haunts or not must be left for the Theosophists to decide.
Swindon Advertiser and North Wilts Chronicle, 6th February 1892.
Interesting Sequel to the Peterborough Ghost.
The Peterborough “ghost” is laid. At any rate it has laid low of late, and now the bogey has served its little newspaper-selling purpose it is probable that it will be relegated to the limbo of forgetfulness till some local silver-haired centenarian relates his reminiscences to an adolescent journalist yet unborn. But the story is not quite complete. There is a very tell-tale sequel, not to call it an exposure, to put on record.
It seems that Mr Stead, the editor of the “Review of Reviews,” wrote to the editor of our contemporary proposing “to make up a party with Col. Gouraud so that we might register the noise with the aid of the phonograph.”
But we will let Mr Stead speak for himself (we are quoting from his New Year’s Number forwarded to us) –
“On writing to the editor of the ‘Peterborough Advertiser’ for information I received a reply to the effect that the manager of the publication had rented the haunted house, a cottage, the normal rent of which was £12 a year, and that they would be perfectly willing to place it at the disposal of an investigating party for the modest fee of £7 10s. per night, and it was added that the phenomena did not occur except when the dispossessed tenant was in the house, he would also require a fee. As I despair of ever convincing the public of the objective reality of phenomena the immediate effect of the occurrence of which is to raise the letting value of a house from £12 a year to £7 10s. a night, the expedition was abandoned.”
It would be interesting to know whether the house and the “ghost” are still on hire at our contemporary’s, whether the rent is now reduced, and whether, after all, the investment was a paying one!
Peterborough Standard, 6th February 1892.
City Chat. I think I can fairly claim to have laid the Midland-road Ghost. To my direct challenge to the late tenants of the house to deny their knowledge of the cause of “the noisy manifestations” I have received no reply, and only one deduction can be made from their siilence. What say those who have been supporting the “Ghost” theory. I fancy I can hear them cry “Enough.”
Peterborough Express, 10th February 1892.
The Peterborough Ghost Hunters.
One of the gentlemen who came from Nottingham a short time ago to find the “Mayor’s Walk Ghost” made his appearance in the Bankruptcy Court at Nottingham last week. The following account of the examination of the debtor, a restaurant keeper, is given by a Nottingham paper: –
Strange Story of a Local Ghost!
The Mystery of the Haunted Farm at Beverley, is creating conspicuous interest throughout the Country, which is increasing by reason of the added manifestations which are precisely those which some ten years ago were very prominently brought under my own observation in a house in Mayor’s Walk, Midland Road, Peterboro’, writes “Autolycus” in the Peterboro’ “Citizen.”
Briefly, at Raikes’ farm, Beverley, in Yorkshire, without any apparent cause, loaves of bread dwindle, until they dwindle away in a single night – and by day and night, and scientists and experts profess themselves baffled. When the loaves are actually watched, there is no apparent change in them, but on being handled, all the inside is found to have disappeared. Such is the sensation that has caused amazement throughout Yorkshire.
To this has now been added extra excitement, which I say has an exact parallel in the Peterborough Manifestations, and which is contained in the most recent record of Raikes Farm as follows:
Strange noises are heard about the house after nightfall – noises loud enough to wake the children. “Many times,” said Mr Webster, the tenant, to a press representative, “I have come downstairs in the middle of the night to find the cause for these uncanny sounds, but however stealthily I went I have always been baffled.”
Footsteps have been heard upon the stairs by both Mr Webster and his wife. Listening to them as they approached, Mr Webster has opened the bedroom door suddenly and shown a light. The sounds have sometimes ceased at this interruption and sometimes continued; but though they have been heard quite close at hand, no human agency has been found to account for them. Sometimes the noises have been so loud that Mr and Mrs Webster have been convinced that someone was making free with the chairs and fireirons in the room beneath them.
One night, when Webster had heard strange noises, he went to Berridge’s room, and together they searched the house. Everything, however, was as they had left it on going to bed.
I tell the Peterborough story now for the first time in all its inner details, because although the Peterborough Advertiser with its usual enterprise, noted the Ghostly Occurrence in Mayor’s Walk in a series of excellent news articles, there were facts which did not come out in print, especially the latter spook-hunting details which followed on my becoming tenant of the house: the nocturnal invasion of the premises by a band of Nottingham spookers, and Mr Wm. Stead declining my offer to “deal in spooks at £8 10s. apiece!” Let me at once say that I have not the scintilla of a leaning towards ghosts or similar silly occult manifestations, believing that even if any such appear to be genuine, they are to be accounted for by purely natural causes, the same as the mirage or a will o’ the wisp. I therefore entered upon my examination perfectly dispassionately and with real desire to bottom the whole affair on the basis I have mentioned. I failed ignominiously.
Briefly, the facts were these: A young railway servant and his wife took up their abode in one of a row of cottages in Mayor’s Walk, in what was then, a somewhat new and lonely district, which is not altogether the case at present. An excellent couple, as their residence went on they became aware of footfalls in the passage outside their bedroom door; the opening of their own and inner doors, the tugging of their bedclothes, and if this were unheeded, the violent crashing as if of a sack of coals being shot down the stairs – the only staircase – leading from the kitchen to the landing. This went on for a week or so, they keeping it to themselves for some time so that they “shouldn’t be laughed at.”
At length, it came to my ears through their asking my advice. They feared nothing; they were merely mystified. At first I was inclined to ridicule it, and sent them a hard-headed ex-detective of the G.E.R., then living at Peterborough, who slept in an upper room next the tenants, with instructions to keep an eye on their movements, although I was convinced from the first that they were as straight as a dart. Marvellous to state, the noises increased those two nights, and both man and wife fled to the room of the ex-detective in their terror, and whilst they were there with him the coals were apparently tumbled out of the sack down the stairs. Instantly he went out – he had left a lantern on the stairs – but there were neither coals, nor dust, nor movement at all – everything as quiet as the desert. Every door lock was examined – fastened; every nook in the house searched.
When this report was made to me, it was with the intelligence that the tenants had deserted the house and had gone straightway to live in Monument Street, where I visited them, and had ample opportunity of conversation. I visited the neighbours. On both sides they had heard these troublous noises in the next house and had marvelled and even complained. There it is; I offer no explanation. As to the bonafides of the excellent young couple, I am quite satisfied with. If there was any machination, I am convinced they were in no way party to it.
The circumstances had by this time reached the Metropolitan Press, and interviewers and photographers swarmed down to Mayor’s Walk. I saw things were thickening. I hired the house! The agent was Mr Bull, father, I believe, of the proprietor of the Peterborough Steam Laundry – I do not mean the Park Road Sanitary Laundry – agent for the owner, a Wisbech builder. I wanted to see the matter through, and considered that by becoming tenant, I should best secure that end. I hoped, however, to be recouped.
The Psychical Research Society were the first to approach me. I gave them every assistance, becuase their operations were in the cause of science. The records of this strange case are upon their journals to this day, as a genuine and unexplained mystery. There were a myriad of other adventitious individuals and commercial syndicates, whose anxiety was oof and oof only. To these I quoted a price, feeling sure that any financial result would be most welcome to the young couple, the wife then being somewhat invalided through the shock. At this time, there wrote me the irrepressible Mr W.T. Stead, who was then running a Spook journal, and making a bit out of it. He wanted to send a photographer to “snap” the spook and certain literary agents; could I accommodate them? To be sure I could – at a price. In my younger days I had done a bit of journalism, and I knew that this spook to Stead meant Gold. I thought I saw a chance here of clearing my rent and concomitant expenses.
As a matter of fact, since the tenants had gone to Monument Street, the Spook had ceased to operate in the empty house, but happily had not followed them to Monument Street. Stead, with his intimacy with Spooks, suggested that I should get them back again. I was quite willing, and sent an estimate; which, from rough memory, was something like the following:
I, Gabriel Autolycus, undertake to inhabit the house in Mayor’s Walk with the original tenants, partially furnish the same, and secure the necessary police protection for seven days from date arranged. Gabriel Autolycus to provide for tenants’ maintenance and remuneration, etc. etc.. (I forget the rest) for the cash sum of…. £8 10s 6d.
Mr Stead, with inimitable politeness, did not reply, but in the next number of his Magazine, he had a couple of pages detailing the circumstances of the Mayor’s Walk ghost, but apologising to his readers that he had been thwarted in his noble efforts to elucidate the mystery as he could not invest in Spooks at £8 10s., apiece! Which was rather neat!
But my remarkable experience in Peterborough Ghosts and Ghostly Tenancies did not end here. Perhaps the most startling is yet to be told. The Sensation had by this time been on the move for fully three weeks, and was creating a stir North as well as South. It was one calm Monday evening, when the October mantle of darkness fell over the City at about half-past five. One of the G.N.R. officials urgently sought me to ask me if I knew what was going on with the Ghost? A carriage load of ghost layers – “awful looking folks” he added, had come in from Nottingham and had gone up to Mayor’s Walk to lay the Ghost! Moreover, he said there was great excitement on the platform, and a crowd had followed the men, who had made no secret of their mission, and had labelled the carriage windows in bold print: The Nottingham Ghostlayers! Going To Capture The Peterborough Ghost. Shan’t Return Without It!!
As I held the keys of the House, I was not very much concerned, believing that before they operated, they would consult the tenant. In half an hour’s time, however, a messenger told me that the Ghost Layers were in the House “which was all of a blaze with light” and a crowd howling outside! I felt, as tenant, a grave responsibility should any damage be done by the excited mob through these occupants. Without delay I presented myself at the Police Station, explained the circumstances, and asked for a police officer to accompany me to my Mayor’s Walk House! I was vouchsafed the tallest, finest, handsomest officer in uniform the force possessed, and together we hastened thither, still believing that the men in possession was an idle tale.
But the information was quite correct. The house was lighted up, windows had been curtained with newspapers, and a restless crowd was increasing outside. The officer at once made for the door and loudly knocked. The catch was warily undone after further knocking, and the door opened a chink, the officer pushed the door open and we both entered. Here was a sight which might have been a picture out of Arabian Nights. A stodgy, diminutive, snub-nosed, beery-faced man, clad in a dirty butcher’s smock, with a wet towel swathed about his head (to keep his head cool when he saw the ghost, he afterwards told me), and carrying a swaling candle in a ginger beer bottle. At the sight of the scowling stalwart in uniform, his jaw dropped and terror seized him! We went into My Kitchen. Bless you, everything was as comfortable as possible. A roaring fire, a chair and some upturned boxes, bread and cheese, and jugs of beer, and two more individuals the counterpart of the Doorkeeper with their heads turbanned with wet towels. They were having a rare carousel!
Asked how they got in, it turned out that they had borrowed the neighbour’s key (which fitted my back door), and the chair and coal had also been supplied therefrom. Told that they were under arrest, these dull, fat bleary-eyed slaves of the Nottingham Shambles, trembled like an aspen – and these were the brave men forsooth who had come to lay the Ghost! They acquainted us that they were only servants of a man who had gone to the Spital Arms for more refreshment. Leaving a constable in charge, we sought and found the employer in the public house named, and together we went back to the house. He took all the responsibility. He was an inn-keeper at Nottingham, he told us, and had arranged to send half-hour telegrams to interest his customers whether they caught the Ghost or not. He was not quite so craven as the other lubbers, but seemed to realise the illegality of what he had done. I promised to let him and his horde stay if he paid £5 to Peterborough Infirmary, and sign a guarantee against any damage by the crowd. He declared that he was poor and could not do so; in fact it was only in the hope of improving the custom at his inn that he had gone to this extremity. We took all their names, threatened proceedings, bundled them out, and a constable was detailed to see them off by the next train to Nottingham, which he did. The crowd soon dissolved, and Mayors’ Walk was left once again in its undisturbed peacefulness.
I could go on with extraordinary incidents like this which occurred during my tenancy, for much longer, and may at a future date revert to them. But for the present, let me say that I felt a load of responsibility gone, when I handed the keys back again to the landlord’s agent, having been occupier for exactly three weeks. Let me add that all united efforts failed to discover the cause of the turbulent manifestations. I think the poor woman soon succumbed, the husband of the next tenant was killed in shunting at Fletton, and the next family, I believe, were stricken with fever, which carried some of them off. But none of them nor the neighbours heard the noises after the original tenants left. The house, I believe, long since has recovered its good repute, and thorough happiness and good luck have marked the lot of its present tenants for some time, at least, that was the gratifying report made two or three years ago to AUTOLYCUS.
Hunts County News, 24th October, 1903.
The recent death of an old and respected Peterborian, in the person of Mr Carroll, of Mayor’s Walk, recalls to mind the part taken by the “Express” some years ago in exploding a “ghost” scare, which was made much of and carefully nursed by a contemporary. I remember I was despatched to explode the story, and Mr Carroll was instrumental in clearing up the absurd reports.
It was stated at the time that residents of a house in Mayor’s Walk were nerve-wracked by mysterious happenings. Latches of doors were rattled, bed clothes were pulled from the sleepers, noises were heard in the roof, in fact it was a good all round yarn. Coupled with this, mysterious lights had been observed by people in the streets dancing on the front room walls. Some fearless gentlemen from Nottingham undertook to keep alert for the spirit during the night. But I remember that their patient vigil during the “Silent watches” was not altogether successful. However, that is another story.
Well, the “Express” came out with a column or two, and upset the ghost theory once and for all. It appears that Mr Carroll had a monkey, which, of course, was no less mischievous than other missing links. He had a habit of breaking loose, and on these occasions would explore the back ways of houses along the row. The rattling of catches and knobs on doors was entirely due to this gentleman. He took periodical journeys down chimney pots into bedrooms, and having disturbed the inmates took his departure via the fire place.
The “mysterious lights” it was fully proved came from the railway. Indeed, today, owing to the peculiar surface of the glass these lights glisten and flash in a most erratic fashion.
After the exposure the explanation by the late Mr Carroll the scare fell as flat as a Shrove Tuesday pancake.
Peterborough Express, 24th February 1915.