There is a curious legend told about this old building. It is said to have been haunted; and the ghost, in the form of a spectre hound, is still supposed to roam at nights over the fields which were formerly attached to the farm. The legend runs that some persons were done to death in some mysterious fashion in the building; and that ever since, an evil spirit, in the shape of a great yellow hound, has haunted the neighbourhood. Old people who can remember the farm, state that in it there was a certain flag on the stone floor, which bore the stains of blood; and that no amount of swilling and scrubbing could ever remove the stains. What became of the stone when the house was pulled down is not known.
Many persons--residents in G.o.dley, and others who have had occasion to be in the neighbourhood said to be haunted--have seen the spectre hound, careering over the fields and through the lanes during the night-time. The occupants of the adjoining farms have been awakened from their sleep in the dead of the night by the noises made by the cattle in the fields; and on looking from their windows have seen the terrified animals dashing wildly across the fields, chased by the horrible form of the great ghost-hound, which with hanging tongue, protruding eyes, and deep sepulchral baying, drove them round and round.
Children, returning along the country lanes from school on winter evenings, have seen the hound dash past, and have reached home well-nigh frightened out of their wits. Young lovers, walking arm in arm along the quiet lanes, seeking some secluded spot wherein to dream of love and happiness, have been put to flight by the spectre; and the more timid maids from the farms have been afraid to venture out after dark.
The wife of one of the farmers, when returning home one night, after delivering the milk in the neighbouring towns, was driving slowly along the lane past the site of the demolished farmstead, when the horse suddenly stood still, and began to tremble violently. At that instant the form of the giant hound, yellow in colour, with horrible staring eyes, sprang from the field, leaped over the fence into the lane, and with great strides like the galloping of a horse raced down the lane in the direction of a well which is sunk close to another farm. Full of fear the good woman reached home, and told her father what she had seen. The old man, merely shook his head, and said quietly:
"The yellow hound. So you have seen the yellow hound?"
"What is it--what does it mean?" asked the daughter.
"Some day I will tell you," said he. "But not now. If you have seen it once, be sure you will see it again."
Some time afterwards the old man himself came quietly home, and told his daughter that he, too, had just seen the hound.
"It was sitting by the edge of the old well," said he, "looking into the water. Its eyes were staring wildly, and foam dropped from its lips."
"What is it--what does it mean?" again asked the daughter.
But the old man only shook his head, and answered:
"Who can tell?"
Again the woman saw the hound in the fields of their own farm, and sometimes it appeared without head. A great hound it was, life-like enough at first appearance, but clearly a spectre, terrible to see.
Another lady saw the hound when she was a child, and several times during her life it has appeared before her. This is her narrative:
"The first time I saw it was in the lanes, when I was walking with a relation, older than myself. I was a child at the time, and although startled was not too frightened to think of trying to scare it away.
As it kept pace with us, I looked out for some stones to fling at it; but my relative caught hold of me and said: "Don"t; you mustn"t throw at it, or it will attack us, and tear us to bits. It is the ghost-hound." Since then I have seen it several times. It is not a pleasant thing to meet, and I have no wish to see it again."
Yet a third lady saw the ghost-hound between the years 1890 and 1900.
"I was staying at ---- Farm," said she; "and I went down to the well to get some water. It was a winter night, and on a pool near the well was a strong sheet of ice. While the buckets were filling I went towards the ice, thinking to enjoy a slide. But when I reached the pool, there stood the hound. It was about the size of a lion, its skin much the same as a lion"s in colour, and it had eyes as large as saucers. At first I thought it must have been a lion that had escaped from Belle Vue, or from some menagerie; and as it came towards me I backed away. I was too terrified to turn and run, but kept my face to it, as I retreated. When I neared the house it disappeared. I shall never forget the sight as long as I live. It was a dreadful thing to see."
A tradesman of Hyde--a fishmonger, who made a weekly journey round Broadbottom, and came homewards across G.o.dley Green--once saw the spectre, and his story is equally sensational.
"It was as big as a cow," said he, "its skin a light tan colour. I was walking down the lane with my basket on my shoulder, when suddenly I saw the thing beside me. It kept pace with me as I walked; if I stood still, it stopped, and if I ran, it ran also. I could not overtake it.
I was not more than a yard from the hedge, and the ghost was between me and the hedge. I struck at it, but hit nothing; for my hand went clean through it as through air, and my knuckles were scratched by the hedge. My blood ran cold, and I was terribly frightened. Then it ran in front of me, and then came back, and pa.s.sed me again; it did not turn round to do this, but, strange to say, its head was in front when it returned. As soon as it had pa.s.sed, I took to my heels as fast as I could run, and it was a long time before I ventured down the lane again at night. When next I met the farmer whose lands were haunted by it, and whom I had formerly served with fish, he asked me where I had been lately; and I then told him I had seen the ghost. He replied that he and his family had seen it often; and that I must not be afraid."
"Never mind about that," I said. "You"ll have to do without fish at night, unless you like to fetch it."
"It was the most hideous thing I ever saw. Its feet went pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, with a horrible clanking noise like chains. I wouldn"t meet it again for twenty pounds. I never want to see it again if I live to be a hundred."
And so on, the different mortals who have seen this terrible spectre of the yellow hound relate their grim experiences.
The legend is that the ghost-hound must haunt the lanes and fields about the site of the old farmstead, until the crime for which it is accursed has been atoned for, when its midnight wanderings will cease, and the troubled spirit will find rest.
AUTHOR"S NOTE.
As in the case of the story of the "Haunted Farm," I desire to state that I have not drawn upon my imagination for any of the incidents related in the account of "The Spectre Hound." The story of the ghost came to my ears from the lips of a friend, and being filled with curiosity at so remarkable a story I determined to investigate it. For this purpose I saw and interviewed all the persons whose experiences are related in the story, and from them I received the substance and detail of the above account. They are all perfectly serious, and positively affirm that they saw with their own eyes the actions of the spectre hound as recorded.
Their statements were given to me in the presence of reliable witnesses; and my informants are still alive at the time of writing (May, 1906).
The fishmonger whose statement is given above is a well-known Hyde worthy, and I interviewed him at his own house on Thursday evening, March 29th, 1906. I took with me two friends--well-known public men of Hyde--as witnesses. My knock at the door was answered by the fishmonger himself. I told him who I was, and my object in calling--that it was about a ghost, a spectre hound--a great dog.
"Great dog," said he; "why, man, it was as big as a blooming cow. Come inside."
With that we entered the house, and he related the story which is recorded in the foregoing narrative. At the conclusion I suggested that the spectre might have been a cow.
The man shook his head.
"It was no cow," said he solemnly. "It was a ghost. I never want to see the thing again if I live to be a hundred years old."
XXIII.
The Boggart of G.o.dley Green.
It would, perhaps, be difficult to find in all England a tract of country of which so many wild stories of ghosts and boggarts are told as the old common land of G.o.dley Green, and the picturesque cloughs and dingles which surround it. Some interesting old farmsteads still stand on and near the "Green," and there were in former times others still more quaint, which have disappeared before the march of time.
Concerning most of these homesteads, ghost tales are told; indeed, one old native of G.o.dley recently declared that "there were more boggarts at G.o.dley Green than anywhere else in the kingdom." And perhaps this statement is true.
Most of the stories are old tales, which have been handed down from former generations, no living being laying claim to any personal experience of the boggarts referred to. But in one or two cases the boggarts are said to be still haunting the scenes of their former exploits; and people still living claim to have actually seen the ghosts, as well as heard about them. The present story belongs to the latter cla.s.s.
There is a certain house in that part of the township of G.o.dley known as the Green, which is said to be haunted by a boggart in the shape of an old lady, who formerly belonged to the house. The legend is not very precise as to the cause of her unrest, but it is said that she did certain things in her lifetime the memories of which will not allow her to rest quietly in her grave. Accordingly, her ghost wanders about the house and grounds, occasionally startling people by its appearance, and its peculiar actions.
One old lady--still alive--gives some graphic details of the boggart.
She at one time resided in the house but now she has removed to a distance.
"Many a time," says she, "I have seen "Old Nanny"--the boggart--wandering about after dark. She is generally outside the house, but occasionally peeps in at the windows. I can remember the old woman during her lifetime, and the boggart is just like her. She wears an old-fashioned cap, and a skirt kilted or tucked up in the old-fashioned style. She wears an ap.r.o.n, which she shakes, and makes a peculiar hissing noise. There is a gate leading from the garden into a meadow and I have seen the boggart standing there, waving her ap.r.o.n, and saying, "Ish, ish, ish.""
"On one occasion a relative of the old dame, was present, and saw the boggart. "It"s owd Nanny," said he, "))reet enough. Why the d---- can"t she rest quiet in her grave. What does she want frightening people like that.""
Another night a serving man was ordered to go into the back garden, and gather a quant.i.ty of rhubarb. He was gone a short time, and then he rushed back to the house with blanched face, and terror in his countenance.
"What is the matter?" asked his mistress; "where is the rhubarb?"
"It"s where it mun stop, missus, for me," he replied. "I"ve had enough of rhubarb getting in that garden."
And then he related how he had proceeded to the rhubarb bed, had gathered one stick, and was about to pluck another, when he suddenly became aware of the white figure of an old woman standing before him in the midst of the rhubarb, looking at him intently.
"She waved her ap.r.o.n at me," said he, "and then I heard her say, "Ish, ish, ish.""
While he looked the boggart vanished, and then the man took to his heels.
Another lady, who resided at the house in the last years of the nineteenth century, has also some queer tales to tell of the appearance of the boggart. Says she: