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Haunted Houses In Or Near Dublin

Scary Books: True Irish Ghost Stories
: St John D Seymour

Of all species of ghostly phenomena, that commonly known as "haunted

houses" appeals most to the ordinary person. There is something very

eerie in being shut up within the four walls of a house with a ghost. The

poor human being is placed at such a disadvantage. If we know that a

gateway, or road, or field has the reputation of being haunted, we can in

nearly every case make a detour, and so avoid the unpleasant locality.

/> But the presence of a ghost in a house creates a very different state of

affairs. It appears and disappears at its own sweet will, with a total

disregard for our feelings: it seems to be as much part and parcel of the

domicile as the staircase or the hall door, and, consequently, nothing

short of leaving the house or of pulling it down (both of these solutions

are not always practicable) will free us absolutely from the unwelcome


There is also something so natural, and at the same time so unnatural, in

seeing a door open when we know that no human hand rests on the knob, or

in hearing the sound of footsteps, light or heavy, and feeling that it

cannot be attributed to the feet of mortal man or woman. Or perhaps a

form appears in a room, standing, sitting, or walking--in fact, situated

in its three dimensions apparently as an ordinary being of flesh and

blood, until it proves its unearthly nature by vanishing before our

astonished eyes. Or perhaps we are asleep in bed. The room is shrouded

in darkness, and our recumbent attitude, together with the weight of

bed-clothes, hampers our movements and probably makes us more cowardly. A

man will meet pain or danger boldly if he be standing upright--occupying

that erect position which is his as Lord of Creation; but his courage

does not well so high if he be supine. We are awakened suddenly by the

feel that some superhuman Presence is in the room. We are transfixed with

terror, we cannot find either the bell-rope or the matches, while we

_dare_ not leap out of bed and make a rush for the door lest we should

encounter we know not what. In an agony of fear, we feel it moving

towards us; it approaches closer, and yet closer, to the bed, and--for

what may or may not then happen we must refer our readers to the pages of

this book.

But the sceptical reader will say: "This is all very well, but--there are

_no_ haunted houses. All these alleged strange happenings are due to a

vivid imagination, or else to rats and mice." (The question of deliberate

and conscious fraud may be rejected in almost every instance.) This

simple solution has been put forward so often that it should infallibly

have solved the problem long ago. But will such a reader explain how it

is that the noise made by rats and mice can resemble slow, heavy

footsteps, or else take the form of a human being seen by several

persons; or how our imagination can cause doors to open and shut, or else

create a conglomeration of noises which, physically, would be beyond the

power of ordinary individuals to reproduce? Whatever may be the ultimate

explanation, we feel that there is a great deal in the words quoted by

Professor Barrett: "In spite of all reasonable scepticism, it is

difficult to avoid accepting, at least provisionally, the conclusion that

there are, in a certain sense, haunted houses, _i.e._ that there are

houses in which similar quasi-human apparitions have occurred at

different times to different inhabitants, under circumstances which

exclude the hypothesis of suggestion or expectation."

We must now turn to the subject of this chapter. Mrs. G. Kelly, a lady

well known in musical circles in Dublin, sends as her own personal

experience the following tale of a most quiet haunting, in which the

spectral charwoman (!) does not seem to have entirely laid aside all her

mundane habits.

"My first encounter with a ghost occurred about twenty years ago. On that

occasion I was standing in the kitchen of my house in ---- Square, when a

woman, whom I was afterwards to see many times, walked down the stairs

into the room. Having heard the footsteps outside, I was not in the least

perturbed, but turned to look who it was, and found myself looking at a

tall, stout, elderly woman, wearing a bonnet and old-fashioned mantle.

She had grey hair, and a benign and amiable expression. We stood gazing

at each other while one could count twenty. At first I was not at all

frightened, but gradually as I stood looking at her an uncomfortable

feeling, increasing to terror, came over me. This caused me to retreat

farther and farther back, until I had my back against the wall, and then

the apparition slowly faded.

"This feeling of terror, due perhaps to the unexpectedness of her

appearance, always overcame me on the subsequent occasions on which I

saw her. These occasions numbered twelve or fifteen, and I have seen her

in every room in the house, and at every hour of the day, during a period

of about ten years. The last time she appeared was ten years ago. My

husband and I had just returned from a concert at which he had been

singing, and we sat for some time over supper, talking about the events

of the evening. When at last I rose to leave the room, and opened the

dining-room door, I found my old lady standing on the mat outside with

her head bent towards the door in the attitude of listening. I called

out loudly, and my husband rushed to my side. That was the last time I

have seen her."

"One peculiarity of this spectral visitant was a strong objection to

disorder or untidyness of any kind, or even to an alteration in the

general routine of the house. For instance, she showed her disapproval of

any stranger coming to sleep by turning the chairs face downwards on the

floor in the room they were to occupy. I well remember one of our guests,

having gone to his room one evening for something he had forgotten,

remarking on coming downstairs again, 'Well, you people have an

extraordinary manner of arranging your furniture! I have nearly broken my

bones over one of the bedroom chairs which was turned down on the floor.'

As my husband and I had restored that chair twice already to its proper

position during the day, we were not much surprised at his remarks,

although we did not enlighten him. The whole family have been disturbed

by a peculiar knocking which occurred in various rooms in the house,

frequently on the door or wall, but sometimes on the furniture, quite

close to where we had been sitting. This was evidently loud enough to be

heard in the next house, for our next-door neighbour once asked my

husband why he selected such curious hours for hanging his pictures.

Another strange and fairly frequent occurrence was the following. I had

got a set of skunk furs which I fancied had an unpleasant odour, as this

fur sometimes has; and at night I used to take it from my wardrobe and

lay it on a chair in the drawing-room, which was next my bedroom. The

first time that I did this, on going to the drawing-room I found, to my

surprise, my muff in one corner and my stole in another. Not for a moment

suspecting a supernatural agent, I asked my servant about it, and she

assured me that she had not been in the room that morning. Whereupon I

determined to test the matter, which I did by putting in the furs late at

night, and taking care that I was the first to enter the room in the

morning. I invariably found that they had been disturbed."

The following strange and pathetic incident occurred in a well-known

Square in the north side of the city. In or about a hundred years ago a

young officer was ordered to Dublin, and took a house there for himself

and his family. He sent on his wife and two children, intending to join

them in the course of a few days. When the latter and the nurse arrived,

they found only the old charwoman in the house, and she left shortly

after their arrival. Finding that something was needed, the nurse went

out to purchase it. On her return she asked the mother were the children

all right, as she had seen two ghostly forms flit past her on the

door-step! The mother answered that she believed they were, but on going

up to the nursery they found both the children with their throats cut.

The murderer was never brought to justice, and no motive was ever

discovered for the crime. The unfortunate mother went mad, and it is said

that an eerie feeling still clings to the house, while two little heads

are sometimes seen at the window of the room where the deed was


A most weird experience fell to the lot of Major Macgregor, and was

contributed by him to _Real Ghost Stories_, the celebrated Christmas

number of the _Review of Reviews_. He says: "In the end of 1871 I went

over to Ireland to visit a relative living in a Square in the north side

of Dublin. In January 1872 the husband of my relative fell ill. I sat up

with him for several nights, and at last, as he seemed better, I went to

bed, and directed the footman to call me if anything went wrong. I soon

fell asleep, but some time after was awakened by a push on the left

shoulder. I started up, and said, 'Is there anything wrong?' I got no

answer, but immediately received another push. I got annoyed, and said

'Can you not speak, man! and tell me if there is anything wrong.' Still

no answer, and I had a feeling I was going to get another push when I

suddenly turned round and caught a human hand, warm, plump, and soft. I

said, 'Who are you?' but I got no answer. I then tried to pull the person

towards me, but could not do so. I then said, 'I _will_ know who you

are!' and having the hand tight in my right hand, with my left I felt the

wrist and arm, enclosed, as it seemed to me, in a tight-fitting sleeve of

some winter material with a linen cuff, but when I got to the elbow all

trace of an arm ceased. I was so astounded that I let the hand go, and

just then the clock struck two. Including the mistress of the house,

there were five females in the establishment, and I can assert that the

hand belonged to none of them. When I reported the adventure, the

servants exclaimed, 'Oh, it must have been the master's old Aunt Betty,

who lived for many years in the upper part of that house, and had died

over fifty years before at a great age.' I afterwards heard that the room

in which I felt the hand had been considered haunted, and very curious

noises and peculiar incidents occurred, such as the bed-clothes torn off,

&c. One lady got a slap in the face from some invisible hand, and when

she lit her candle she saw as if something opaque fell or jumped off

the bed. A general officer, a brother of the lady, slept there two

nights, but preferred going to a hotel to remaining the third night. He

never would say what he heard or saw, but always said the room was

uncanny. I slept for months in the room afterwards, and was never in the

least disturbed."

A truly terrifying sight was witnessed by a clergyman in a school-house a

good many years ago. This cleric was curate of a Dublin parish, but

resided with his parents some distance out of town in the direction of

Malahide. It not infrequently happened that he had to hold meetings in

the evenings, and on such occasions, as his home was so far away, and as

the modern convenience of tramcars was not then known, he used to sleep

in the schoolroom, a large bare room, where the meetings were held. He

had made a sleeping-apartment for himself by placing a pole across one

end of the room, on which he had rigged up two curtains which, when drawn

together, met in the middle. One night he had been holding some meeting,

and when everybody had left he locked up the empty schoolhouse, and went

to bed. It was a bright moonlight night, and every object could be seen

perfectly clearly. Scarcely had he got into bed when he became conscious

of some invisible presence. Then he saw the curtains agitated at one end,

as if hands were grasping them on the outside. In an agony of terror he

watched these hands groping along outside the curtains till they reached

the middle. The curtains were then drawn a little apart, and a Face

peered in--an awful, evil Face, with an expression of wickedness and hate

upon it which no words could describe. It looked at him for a few

moments, then drew back again, and the curtains closed. The clergyman

had sufficient courage left to leap out of bed and make a thorough

examination of the room, but, as he expected, he found no one. He dressed

himself as quickly as possible, walked home, and never again slept a

night in that schoolroom.

The following tale, sent by Mr. E. B. de Lacy, contains a most

extraordinary and unsatisfactory element of mystery. He says: "When I was

a boy I lived in the suburbs, and used to come in every morning to school

in the city. My way lay through a certain street in which stood a very

dismal semi-detached house, which, I might say, was closed up regularly

about every six months. I would see new tenants coming into it, and then

in a few months it would be 'To let' again. This went on for eight or

nine years, and I often wondered what was the reason. On inquiring one

day from a friend, I was told that it had the reputation of being


"A few years later I entered business in a certain office, and one day it

fell to my lot to have to call on the lady who at that particular period

was the tenant of the haunted house. When we had transacted our business

she informed me that she was about to leave. Knowing the reputation of

the house, and being desirous of investigating a ghost-story, I asked her

if she would give me the history of the house as far as she knew it,

which she very kindly did as follows:

"About forty years ago the house was left by will to a gentleman

named ----. He lived in it for a short time, when he suddenly went mad,

and had to be put in an asylum. Upon this his agents let the house to a

lady. Apparently nothing unusual happened for some time, but a few months

later, as she went down one morning to a room behind the kitchen, she

found the cook hanging by a rope attached to a hook in the ceiling. After

the inquest the lady gave up the house.

"It was then closed up for some time, but was again advertised 'To let,'

and a caretaker, a woman, was put into it. One night about one o'clock, a

constable going his rounds heard some one calling for help from the

house, and found the caretaker on the sill of one of the windows holding

on as best she could. He told her to go in and open the hall door and let

him in, but she refused to enter the room again. He forced open the door

and succeeded in dragging the woman back into the room, only to find she

had gone mad.

"Again the house was shut up, and again it was let, this time to a lady,

on a five-years' lease. However, after a few months' residence, she

locked it up, and went away. On her friends asking her why she did so,

she replied that she would rather pay the whole five years' rent than

live in it herself, or allow anyone else to do so, but would give no

other reason.

"'I believe I was the next person to take this house,' said the lady who

narrated the story to me (_i.e._ Mr. de Lacy). 'I took it about eighteen

months ago on a three years' lease in the hopes of making money by taking

in boarders, but I am now giving it up because none of them will stay

more than a week or two. They do not give any definite reason as to why

they are leaving; they are careful to state that it is not because they

have any fault to find with me or my domestic arrangements, but they

merely say _they do not like the rooms_! The rooms themselves, as you can

see, are good, spacious, and well lighted. I have had all classes of

professional men; one of the last was a barrister, and he said that he

had no fault to find except that _he did not like the rooms_! I myself do

not believe in ghosts, and I have never seen anything strange here or

elsewhere; and if I had known the house had the reputation of being

haunted, I would never have rented it."

Marsh's library, that quaint, old-world repository of ponderous tomes, is

reputed to be haunted by the ghost of its founder, Primate Narcissus

Marsh. He is said to frequent the inner gallery, which contains what was

formerly his own private library: he moves in and out among the cases,

taking down books from the shelves, and occasionally throwing them down

on the reader's desk as if in anger. However, he always leaves things in

perfect order. The late Mr. ----, who for some years lived in the

librarian's rooms underneath, was a firm believer in this ghost, and said

he frequently heard noises which could only be accounted for by the

presence of a nocturnal visitor; the present tenant is more sceptical.

The story goes that Marsh's niece eloped from the Palace, and was married

in a tavern to the curate of Chapelizod. She is reported to have written

a note consenting to the elopement, and to have then placed it in one of

her uncle's books to which her lover had access, and where he found it.

As a punishment for his lack of vigilance, the Archbishop is said to be

condemned to hunt for the note until he find it--hence the ghost.

The ghost of a deceased Canon was seen in one of the Dublin cathedrals

by several independent witnesses, one of whom, a lady, gives her own

experience as follows: "Canon ---- was a personal friend of mine, and

we had many times discussed ghosts and spiritualism, in which he was a

profound believer, having had many supernatural experiences himself.

It was during the Sunday morning service in the cathedral that I saw

my friend, who had been dead for two years, sitting inside the

communion-rails. I was so much astonished at the flesh-and blood

appearance of the figure that I took off my glasses and wiped them with

my handkerchief, at the same time looking away from him down the church.

On looking back again he was still there, and continued to sit there for

about ten or twelve minutes, after which he faded away. I remarked a

change in his personal appearance, which was, that his beard was longer

and whiter than when I had known him--in fact, such a change as would

have occurred _in life_ in the space of two years. Having told my

husband of the occurrence on our way home, he remembered having heard

some talk of an appearance of this clergyman in the cathedral since his

death. He hurried back to the afternoon service, and asked the robestress

if anybody had seen Canon ----'s ghost. She informed him that _she_ had,

and that he had also been seen by one of the sextons in the cathedral. I

mention this because in describing his personal appearance she had

remarked the same change as I had with regard to the beard."

Some years ago a family had very uncanny experiences in a house in

Rathgar, and subsequently in another in Rathmines. These were

communicated by one of the young ladies to Mrs. M. A. Wilkins, who

published them in the _Journal_ of the American S.P.R.,[1] from which

they are here taken. The Rathgar house had a basement passage leading to

a door into the yard, and along this passage her mother and the children

used to hear dragging, limping steps, and the latch of the door rattling,

but no one could ever be found when search was made. The house-bells were

old and all in a row, and on one occasion they all rang, apparently of

their own accord. The lady narrator used to sleep in the back drawing

room, and always when the light was put out she heard strange noises, as

if some one was going round the room rubbing paper along the wall, while

she often had the feeling that a person was standing beside her bed. A

cousin, who was a nurse, once slept with her, and also noticed these

strange noises. On one occasion this room was given up to a very

matter-of-fact young man to sleep in, and next morning he said that the

room was very strange, with queer noises in it.

[Footnote 1: For September 1913.]

Her mother also had an extraordinary experience in the same house. One

evening she had just put the baby to bed, when she heard a voice calling

"mother." She left the bedroom, and called to her daughter, who was in a

lower room, "What do you want?" But the girl replied that she had _not_

called her; and then, in her turn, asked her mother if _she_ had been in

the front room, for she had just heard a noise as if some one was trying

to fasten the inside bars of the shutters across. But her mother had been

upstairs, and no one was in the front room. The experiences in the

Rathmines house were of a similar auditory nature, _i.e._ the young

ladies heard their names called, though it was found that no one in the

house had done so.

Occasionally it happens that ghosts inspire a law-suit. In the

seventeenth century they were to be found actively urging the adoption of

legal proceedings, but in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries they

play a more passive part. A case about a haunted house took place in

Dublin in the year 1885, in which the ghost may be said to have won. A

Mr. Waldron, a solicitor's clerk, sued his next-door neighbour, one

Mr. Kiernan, a mate in the merchant service, to recover £500 for damages

done to his house.

Kiernan altogether denied the charges, but asserted that Waldron's house

was notoriously haunted. Witnesses proved that every night, from August

1884 to January 1885, stones were thrown at the windows and doors, and

extraordinary and inexplicable occurrences constantly took place.

Mrs. Waldron, wife of the plaintiff, swore that one night she saw one of

the panes of glass of a certain window cut through with a diamond, and a

white hand inserted through the hole. She at once caught up a bill-hook

and aimed a blow at the hand, cutting off one of the fingers. This finger

could not be found, nor were any traces of blood seen.

A servant of hers was sorely persecuted by noises and the sound of

footsteps. Mr. Waldron, with the aid of detectives and policemen,

endeavoured to find out the cause, but with no success. The witnesses

in the case were closely cross-examined, but without shaking their

testimony. The facts appeared to be proved, so the jury found for

Kiernan, the defendant. At least twenty persons had testified on oath to

the fact that the house had been known to have been haunted.[2]

[Footnote 2: See _Sights and Shadows_, p. 42 ff.]

Before leaving the city and its immediate surroundings, we must relate

the story of an extraordinary ghost, somewhat lacking in good manners,

yet not without a certain distorted sense of humour. Absolutely

incredible though the tale may seem, yet it comes on very good authority.

It was related to our informant, Mr. D., by a Mrs. C., whose daughter he

had employed as governess. Mrs. C., who is described as "a woman of

respectable position and good education," heard it in her turn from her

father and mother. In the story the relationship of the different persons

seems a little involved, but it would appear that the initial A belongs

to the surname both of Mrs. C.'s father and grandfather.

This ghost was commonly called "Corney" by the family, and he answered to

this though it was not his proper name. He disclosed this latter to Mr.

C.'s mother, who forgot it. Corney made his presence manifest to the

A---- family shortly after they had gone to reside in ---- Street in the

following manner. Mr. A---- had sprained his knee badly, and had to use a

crutch, which at night was left at the head of his bed. One night his

wife heard some one walking on the lobby, thump, thump, thump, as if

imitating Mr. A----. She struck a match to see if the crutch had been

removed from the head of the bed, but it was still there.

From that on Corney commenced to talk, and he spoke every day from his

usual habitat, the coal-cellar off the kitchen. His voice sounded as if

it came out of an empty barrel.

He was very troublesome, and continually played practical jokes on the

servants, who, as might be expected, were in terror of their lives of

him; so much so that Mrs. A---- could hardly induce them to stay with

her. They used to sleep in a press-bed in the kitchen, and in order to

get away from Corney, they asked for a room at the top of the house,

which was given to them. Accordingly the press-bed was moved up there.

The first night they went to retire to bed after the change, the doors of

the press were flung open, and Corney's voice said, "Ha! ha! you devils,

I am here before you! I am not confined to any particular part of this


Corney was continually tampering with the doors, and straining locks

and keys. He only manifested himself in material form to two persons;

to ----, who died with the fright, and to Mr. A---- (Mrs. C.'s father)

when he was about seven years old. The latter described him to his mother

as a naked man, with a curl on his forehead, and a skin like a


One day a servant was preparing fish for dinner. She laid it on the

kitchen table while she went elsewhere for something she wanted. When she

returned the fish had disappeared. She thereupon began to cry, fearing

she would be accused of making away with it. The next thing she heard was

the voice of Corney from the coal-cellar saying, "There, you blubbering

fool, is your fish for you!" and, suiting the action to the word, the

fish was thrown out on the kitchen floor.

Relatives from the country used to bring presents of vegetables, and

these were often hung up by Corney like Christmas decorations round the

kitchen. There was one particular press in the kitchen he would not allow

anything into. He would throw it out again. A crock with meat in pickle

was put into it, and a fish placed on the cover of the crock. He threw

the fish out.

Silver teaspoons were missing, and no account of them could be got until

Mrs. A---- asked Corney to confess if he had done anything with them. He

said, "They are under the ticking in the servants' bed." He had, so he

said, a daughter in ---- Street, and sometimes announced that he was

going to see her, and would not be here to-night.

On one occasion he announced that he was going to have "company" that

evening, and if they wanted any water out of the soft-water tank, to take

it before going to bed, as he and his friends would be using it.

Subsequently that night five or six distinct voices were heard, and next

morning the water in the tank was as black as ink, and not alone that,

but the bread and butter in the pantry were streaked with the marks of

sooty fingers.

A clergyman in the locality, having heard of the doings of Corney, called

to investigate the matter. He was advised by Mrs. A---- to keep quiet,

and not to reveal his identity, as being the best chance of hearing

Corney speak. He waited a long time, and as the capricious Corney

remained silent, he left at length. The servants asked, "Corney, why did

you not speak?" and he replied, "I could not speak while that good man

was in the house." The servants sometimes used to ask him where he was.

He would reply, "The Great God would not permit me to tell you. I was a

bad man, and I died the death." He named the room in the house in which

he died.

Corney constantly joined in any conversation carried on by the people of

the house. One could never tell when a voice from the coal-cellar would

erupt into the dialogue. He had his likes and dislikes: he appeared to

dislike anyone that was not afraid of him, and would not talk to them.

Mrs. C.'s mother, however, used to get good of him by coaxing. An uncle,

having failed to get him to speak one night, took the kitchen poker, and

hammered at the door of the coal-cellar, saying, "I'll make you speak";

but Corney wouldn't. Next morning the poker was found broken in two. This

uncle used to wear spectacles, and Corney used to call him derisively,

"Four-eyes." An uncle named Richard came to sleep one night, and

complained in the morning that the clothes were pulled off him. Corney

told the servants in great glee, "I slept on Master Richard's feet all


Finally Mr. A---- made several attempts to dispose of his lease, but with

no success, for when intending purchasers were being shown over the house

and arrived at Corney's domain, the spirit would begin to speak and

the would-be purchaser would fly. They asked him if they changed house

would he trouble them. He replied, "No! but if they throw down this

house, I will trouble the stones."

At last Mrs. A---- appealed to him to keep quiet, and not to injure

people who had never injured him. He promised that he would do so, and

then said, "Mrs. A----, you will be all right now, for I see a lady in

black coming up the street to this house, and she will buy it." Within

half an hour a widow called and purchased the house. Possibly Corney is

still there, for our informant looked up the Directory as he was writing,

and found the house marked "Vacant."

Near Blanchardstown, Co. Dublin, is a house, occupied at present, or up

to very recently, by a private family; it was formerly a monastery, and

there are said to be secret passages in it. Once a servant ironing in the

kitchen saw the figure of a nun approach the kitchen window and look in.

Our informant was also told by a friend (now dead), who had it from the

lady of the house, that once night falls, no doors can be kept closed.

If anyone shuts them, almost immediately they are flung open again with

the greatest violence and apparent anger. If left open there is no

trouble or noise, but light footsteps are heard, and there is a vague

feeling of people passing to and fro. The persons inhabiting the house

are matter-of-fact, unimaginative people, who speak of this as if it were

an everyday affair. "So long as we leave the doors unclosed they don't

harm us: why should we be afraid of them?" Mrs. ---- said. Truly a most

philosophical attitude to adopt!

A haunted house in Kingstown, Co. Dublin, was investigated by Professor

W. Barrett and Professor Henry Sidgwick. The story is singularly well

attested (as one might expect from its being inserted in the pages of the

_Proceedings S.P.R._[3]), as the apparition was seen on three distinct

occasions, and by three separate persons who were all personally known to

the above gentlemen. The house in which the following occurrences took

place is described as being a very old one, with unusually thick walls.

The lady saw her strange visitant in her bedroom. She says: "Disliking

cross-lights, I had got into the habit of having the blind of the back

window drawn and the shutters closed at night, and of leaving the blind

raised and the shutters opened towards the front, liking to see the trees

and sky when I awakened. Opening my eyes now one morning, I saw right

before me (this occurred in July 1873) the figure of a woman, stooping

down and apparently looking at me. Her head and shoulders were wrapped in

a common woollen shawl; her arms were folded, and they were also wrapped,

as if for warmth, in the shawl. I looked at her in my horror, and dared

not cry out lest I might move the awful thing to speech or action. Behind

her head I saw the window and the growing dawn, the looking-glass upon

the toilet-table, and the furniture in that part of the room. After what

may have been only seconds--of the duration of this vision I cannot

judge--she raised herself and went backwards towards the window, stood at

the toilet-table, and gradually vanished. I mean she grew by degrees

transparent, and that through the shawl and the grey dress she wore I saw

the white muslin of the table-cover again, and at last saw that only in

the place where she had stood." The lady lay motionless with terror until

the servant came to call her. The only other occupants of the house at

the time were her brother and the servant, to neither of whom did she

make any mention of the circumstance, fearing that the former would laugh

at her, and the latter give notice.

[Footnote 3: July 1884, p. 141.]

Exactly a fortnight later, when sitting at breakfast, she noticed

that her brother seemed out of sorts, and did not eat. On asking

him if anything were the matter, he answered, "I have had a horrid

nightmare--indeed it was no nightmare: I saw it early this morning, just

as distinctly as I see you." "What?" she asked. "A villainous-looking

hag," he replied, "with her head and arms wrapped in a cloak, stooping

over me, and looking like this--" He got up, folded his arms, and put

himself in the exact posture of the vision. Whereupon she informed him of

what she herself had seen a fortnight previously.

About four years later, in the same month, the lady's married sister and

two children were alone in the house. The eldest child, a boy of about

four or five years, asked for a drink, and his mother went to fetch it,

desiring him to remain in the dining-room until her return. Coming back

she met the boy pale and trembling, and on asking him why he left the

room, he replied, "Who is that woman--who is that woman?" "Where?" she

asked. "That old woman who went upstairs," he replied. So agitated was

he, that she took him by the hand and went upstairs to search, but no one

was to be found, though he still maintained that a woman went upstairs. A

friend of the family subsequently told them that a woman had been killed

in the house many years previously, and that it was reported to be