Ghost in Whaplode Cottage.
Beautiful girl walks from cupboard.
Legend of a murdered gipsy.
A strange experience.
Our picture shows the three brothers, Messrs. Ebenezer, Herbert and George Hy. Watkins, who reside in the haunted cottage. It was Mr Ebenezer Watkins who saw the “beautiful lady.”
Ghosts, spooks, kelpies, water-kelpies and the like are all awe-inspiring. Generally these spiritual visitors are all the more awesome because for some unaccountable reason they are the personification of horror – that is, unless we take them light-heartedly. The lady “with her ‘ead tucked underneath ‘er arm” has made us all smile. We smile because of Stanley Holloway and not the lady with the decapitated headpiece. History tells us of dozens of spooks, mostly anguished men and women who clank chains, utter hideous cries, or make our hair raise by other means quite admissable in the world of spooks. So it is cheering to come across a ghost that is not horrible, but, for a change, a beautiful young girl, with shining white hair.
The story comes from an old fashioned and very mundane cottage amid the wilds of Whaplode. Here – at Daisy Hall – a tiny cottage, live three brothers, Ebenezer, Herbert and George Henry Watkins, who are seen above, keeping in touch with the world affairs through the medium of their wireless. “Daisy Hall” is afflicted with a legend. It seems that tradition says that many years ago a gipsy murdered his wife there and hid the body in a cupboard. That seems to be the crux of the situation.
Mr Ebenezer Watkins was calmly smoking his pipe by the fireside in daylight, when the apparition appeared, and as we have said – not the usual horrifying bogey – but a beautiful young woman with shining white hair. With arms folded, she was completely shrouded in a kind of mist. It came from the cupboard where the gipsy’s body was supposedly concealed! “Why, in th ename of the Lord, troublest thou me?” asked Mr Ebenezer Watkin. There was a faint noise, and the spirit disappeared.
Mr Watkins tells of plates and crockery found lying on the pantry floor, the result of some mysterious crash that made no noise. Horrid noises have emanated from the chimney, and noises from the yard; sounds as though people were jumping on the bedroom floor, and biscuits taken from a locked safe!
Up to the present the ghost has not re-appeared.
Boston Guardian, 12th March 1937.
[…] The central figure in the drama is Mr Ebenezer Walker [sic], aged 60, who lives with two elderly brothers, George Henry and Herbert at Daisy Hall, Whaplode, and who tells of having heard weird, low-pitched mutterings since the appearance of what he describes as the “ghost of a beautiful young lady.” When a “Telegraph” reporter called on Mr Ebenezer Walker today, his face looked pale and drawn, and he said his health “had gone to pieces through recent happenings.” He added, “My heart is in my mouth all the time, and over the slightest little thing I tremble. I can only think that if these things continue they will mean my end.”
Much against his will, Mr Ebenezer Walker’s brothers have persuaded him to remain in the house for a time, and to leave immediately there is a recurrence of “the strange happenings.”
[…] The cottage in which the brothers live is off the beaten track. Each of the three brothers lives in his own room and caters for himself.
Grimsby Daily Telegraph, 6th March 1937.
Strange happenings in lonely Holbeach cottage.
Ghostly vision of “bride in white.”
Weird noise like rolling of barrels
Legend of gipsy who killed his wife.
Man’s many premonitions recalled.
What is the secret underlying the strange happenings in a century-and-a-half old cottage in a desolate part of the marshes near Holbeach? Is the old cottage haunted, as many of the inhabitants of the district affirm? And is the ghostly visitant a woman who was murdered there many years? Whatever the answers to these questions may be, certainly the happenings are completely inexplicable to the inhabitants of the cottage, three brothers, Mr Ebenezer Watkin (60), Mr George Henry Watkin (64), and Mr Herbert Watkin (54). So much so that Mr Ebenezer Watkin told a reporter that his health had “gone to pieces” as a result of his experiences. The house is known as “Daisy Hall,” Whaplode.
Mr Watkin declared that he recently saw enshrouded in mist the figure of “a beautiful young woman,” and his two brothers testify to having heard weird noises from time to time, and declare emphatically that “some strange spirit is haunting the building.” Describing what he saw to a reporter, Mr Ebenezer Watkin said, “It was clear daylight, and I was sitting by the fire, smoking a pipe. Hearing a sound, I turned, thinking my brother was coming in, but I had the shock of my life. Only five or six feet from me, beside a chair, was a figure. It was white like a drift of snow, surrounded by mist. First, I could see only indistinctly, then I was able to make out the body inside the mist. It was the figure of a beautiful young woman, with shining white hair. Her arms were folded, and she was completely shrouded in mist.”
“When I had recovered a bit,” Mr Watkin continued, “I faced it and said, ‘Why, in the name of the Lord, troublest thou me?’ I heard no reply.” Mr Watkin continued that the spirit vanished as quickly as it came, and with a faint sound.
The first intimation Mr Watkins had of “something strange” was about 12 months ago. On a winter’s night, he says, he went to the pantry to fetch a knife, and as he was going out he heard a noise. He turned and saw a big parcel lying on the floor. It was not there when he went in. He called for one of his brothers and when they went back together the parcel was gone, but on the floor were strewn bits of broken plates, cups and saucers. This statement was borne out by George Henry Watkin, who said that he heard no noise, although he was only just outside the room.
On another recent occasion, Ebenezer Watkin says, he heard a weird noise coming from the chimney. “I could hear loud stamping upstairs as if half a dozen people were jumping about up there. It went on for some time and all the time something seemed to be holding me back from walking across the room to the staircase. Then there was a terrible clatter, like the noise of several barrels being rolled downstairs. Something crashed hard against a chair at the bottom and the door seemed to quiver. The noise stopped then.”
Mr Watkin added that often he had heard strange noises in the yard, and so had his brothers, but when any of them went out there was nothing to be seen. He also says that he once brought home some biscuits and put them in a safe. The safe was locked, but next morning on each of the four corners of the dining table were pieces of broken biscuit. The safe was still intact.
Mr Watkin, who looked pale and drawn, remarked, “My heart is in my mouth all the time, and over the slightest little thing I tremble. I can only think, if these things continue, that this is the end.” Much against his will, Mr Watkin’s two brothers have persuaded him to remain in the house for a time, but leave immediately there is a recurrence of “strange happenings.”
“There is something very mystic about the whole affair,” a reporter who chatted with several villagers was told. “It is a fact that Mr Watkin has figured in other strange happenings, some of which have only just come to light.” Just before the outbreak of the Great War, he had dreams, three nights in succession that Germany would attack Belgium. So certain was he that this dream would be fulfilled, that he walked to Holbeach and asked a business man to notify the War Office. He was right – war broke out as he had dreamt. Then, when the fighting began, Mr Watkin dreamt the date on which it would cease. That date was 11th November, 1918.
Another time Mr Watkin had received an invitation to go to tea with his brother, Mr F. Watkin. He was considering whether to accept or not, when he heard three distinct taps on the table, although there was no one in the room but himself. This is his comment: “When I heard those taps my body went cold – the sensation was unbelievable. Something seemed to tell me to go to my brother’s.” Less than a quarter of an hour after he had reached his brother’s home, the brother, Cedric Watkin, fell forward in his chair and died. Mr Watkin could relate other stories of premonition.
The cottage in which the brothers live is well off the beaten track and can only be reached on foot. It is about a mile from the main Holbeach-Spalding road, and the nearest house is three or four fields away. It is said that the house was formerly a bungalow, but was restored many years ago, extensions being made. Over the main doorway is a slab on which is inscribed “S.P. 1815.” There is a legend that the old house is haunted, the story being that many years ago a gipsy murdered his wife there and hid her body in a cupboard, which still exists. Was the murdered woman the spirit that paid a visit to Mr Watkins? Whether it is so or not Mr Watkin is determined to move unless “the strange happenings” cease.
There have been further developments this week in the shape of terrifying flashes of light which convey messages. Describing to a reporter what he saw, Mr Ebenezer Watkin said: “Suddenly there was a terrifying flash, almost as vivid as lightning, and it seemed to rest on one place on the wall. When I looked across I could see distinct flickerings, just like an electric sign, and then I made out letterings: ‘Expect a visitor.’ It was repeated several times, and then it disappeared altogether. Soon after, there was another flash, hardly as strong as the first, and I thought there were three words. The first two were: ‘Cometh they….’ and the third looked something like ‘fearless’ though I am convinced the word was spelt ‘feerless.’ “
“It was not just imagination,” Mr Watkin added emphatically. “I was sitting down, quite normally, when the flashed commenced.”
Another interesting story concerns a woman visitor to the house some time ago, who went upstairs along, and declares having seen flitting around the room what she describes as a “white sparrow.” One of the brothers rushed upstairs to confirm the story, but the “elusive bird” had flown.
There has been some talk locally this week of organising a party to stay in the vicinity of the building at night, but volunteers are slow in forthcoming.
Louth Standard, 13th March 1937.
Forgotten ghost of Daisy Hall. Story by Barbara Hitchings.
In a remote part, near the boundary of the village of Whaplode, once stood Daisy Hall. It was not such a grand place as the name implied. It was, in fact, nothing more than a cottage, reached by a grass track leading off a lonely lane. It is a perfect setting for a ghost story, and it hit the headlines in the 1930s, when the details of the “visitation” got around. A national Sunday newspaper heard about it and sent down a reporter. To try and find out about this story I have paid several visits to Whaplode during the past few weeks, but failed to find anyone who could really remember much about it. It would seem to be the ghost that Whaplode has almost forgotten.
The score of residents that I spoke to could all vaguely recall the story, but could not remember details. This presented a problem since the dates they gave ranged from 1932 to 1940, and made research difficult. Another problem was to find out just what form the ghost had taken. Some thought it was a large white bird, others that it was a beautiful lady dressed in white. One person was almost sure that it was a lady surrounded by mist. Another person was fairly sure that it was a visitation by the Virgin Mary, and it was this, she thought, that interested the Sunday papers.
The vision, or whatever it was, was claimed to have been seen by the three Watkins brothers, who at that time, lived at the hall. Here again I found no one who could recall their names. One was apparently nicknamed “Rubberneck,” the other “Swanee,” and the third was thought to have been Ebenezer. Most versions of the story made it clear that whatever they claimed to see came at night and stood by their bedsides.
When the woman reporter from London arrived in Whaplode to investigate and saw how remote and lonely Daisy Hall was, she felt that she could not spend the night there alone. She appealed for a volunteer to stay with her. The fee offered was £1. No one was very keen, but finally Miss Alma Watson was persuaded and the necessary arrangements were made. I went along to see Miss Watson, who still lives near the village. Unfortunately she had not kept the cuttings from the papers in which there had been stories of the happenings. She did remember that it was a very bad night and that it was pouring with rain. She remembers that they packed a basket of food and that she took along her black labrador dog for company.
It was a long, nerve-wracking night, but they saw and heard nothing. She also told me that when the story got around the village that two young women were going to spend a night in the haunted hall, some of the young men of the village planned to play some tricks on them. The village policeman was tipped off and stood guard in th elane to see fair play.
What was the mystery of Daisy Hall? Was there a ghost? Had there been a vision? Or was it just a made-up tale? Daisy Hall cannot give us the answer for it was demolished during the 1940s. But there must be someone in the village who can tell us the story. I hope so.
Spalding Guardian, 30th June 1967.