Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

This nifty little ghost story appeared in the “San Francisco Chronicle” on January 3, 1882:

John Hargan, a man who has heretofore been credited with an unusual amount of hard common sense, has been driven out of his house at Recene by a series of circumstances that have plunged that little town into a fever of superstitious awe and excitement.

In order to fully understand the case that is at present agitating the denizens of Ten Mile, it becomes necessary to go somewhat into the past. The Hargan family, which consists of Mr. and Mrs. Hargan and two children, occupied a little house close to the foot of Ten Mile avenue before the devastating breath of the recent fire swept over it, and across the avenue tracks. Living with the family temporarily was a prospector whom Mr. Hargan was grub staking. These are the dramatis personae of the affair. 

The house consisted of four rooms, the two middle ones being used as sleeping apartments, and one occupied by the Hargans and the other by the prospector. 

About two weeks ago the first of a chain of remarkable manifestations took place. The family were one evening seated in the front room when one of the little children sprang up and cried out, “Who is that looking in the window?" and ran tremblingly to her mother's side.

At the same instant there was a loud knock on the glass. Hargin and his friend both ran to the door and threw it open. The moon was shining quite brightly outside and no one in sight anywhere--nothing but a broad expanse of freshly fallen untracked snow within 100 feet of the house. Puzzled and alarmed they returned and questioned the child. All she knew was that a man with a very white face had been looking in through the window, and when she screamed he suddenly disappeared. Mr. Hargan, who is not troubled with any superstitious fancies, tried to laugh off the matter and attribute the ghostly visitation simply to some hungry tramp attracted by the warmth and light within. 

An hour or two passed and the matter was well-nigh forgotten, when the family were thrown into consternation by a second rap, however, and sharper than before. Again a rush was made for the door, and again nothing but the untrodden snow greeted their eyes.

By this time, thoroughly alarmed, Mr. Hargan took a seat close to the window. and within a foot or two of the door, and patiently waited. In the course of twenty minutes there were two loud raps at the door, but their echo had scarcely died away when Hargan was on the threshold.

There was not a trace of any one outside, and completely unnerved, he re-entered the room and turned the lock. There were no other manifestations that evening, nor the next, but the day after that, at about noon, while Mrs. Hargan was engaged at some household work, there were three or four impatient raps at one of the middle doors of the house. She turned to it, supposing it to be one of the neighbors, when the door was suddenly pushed open in her face.

No one was there, the room was absolutely empty, and, half fainting with fright, she ran to get her husband. Ever since that time these manifestations have continued, and scarcely an evening passed that the raps were not heard on the doors or windows. 

The most startling of them, however, have taken place within the past few days. One night in the latter part of last week the prospector, who was quietly sleeping in the center room, was awakened by feeling something jump upon his feet and crouch there. His mind filled with the uncanny events of the two weeks past, he did not dare to move, and scarcely breathing, lay quite still.

An instant later the thing upon the bed crowded toward him, and he felt the clutch of a hand upon his shoulder. He had pulled the cover up over his head. but could stand it no longer, and gave a loud, long shriek of terror. Tho sound broke the spell, and he felt his legs instantly relieved of the weight, as at the same moment Hargan rushed, revolver in hand, into the room.  The story was told in a few words, and they hastily decided to say nothing about it to Mrs. Hargan, who was in a pitiable state of nervous prostration. 

Next night the husband made some excuse to sleep with the prospector, and with his revolver in convenient reach, they retired. Late at night, when everything was enveloped in pitchy darkness, Hargan was awakened by someone passing their hands over his side. His first impulse was to reach for his gun, but an uncontrollable terror seized him and he was unable to move. Half fainting, he felt something creep over him and then jump to the floor with an audible concussion. For an instant he lay mute and motionless, and then was aroused by the screams of his wife. The room in which she slept had a window opening to the old town of Kokomo, and when her husband rushed in she said she had awakened to see the black profile of someone between this and her. As she stared at it the head slowly turned, and by a faint phosphorescent glow that surrounded it she made out the figure of a man.

Then for the first time she found her voice, and as she cried out the figure faded and disappeared. This experience was sufficient, and the family sat up during the remainder of the night. As soon as possible the next day they moved out, and since then the house has stood vacant and empty. No one can be induced to even spend a night in it, and the owner is anxious to give it rent free to any tenant who will brave its unknown terrors.

The Priest and the Friendly UFOs

It is usually the stories told in the most prosaic, matter-of-fact way that are the most believable, even when they deal with a subject matter which is deeply weird.  For that reason, the following UFO account is considered among the most credible.

The main source for this story is an Australian Anglican priest named William Gill, who was working as a missionary in Boianai, Papua, New Guinea, which was at the time still Australian territory.  Gill was an honest, intelligent man who was highly respected by everyone who knew him.

In June 1959, Gill wrote a friend, Reverend David Durie, about an “inverted saucer-shaped object" that Gill’s assistant, Stephen Moi, had recently seen flying over their mission:

Dear David, 

Have a look at this extraordinary data. I am almost convinced about the “visitation” theory. There have been quite a number of reports over the months, from reliable witnesses. The peculiar thing about these most recent reports is that the UFOs seem to be stationary at Boianai or to travel from Boianai. The Mount Pudi vicinity seems to be the hovering area. I myself saw a stationary white light twice on the same night on 9 April, but in a different place each time.

I believe your students have also sighted one over Boianai. The Assistant District Officer, Bob Smith and Mr Glover have all seen it, or similar ones on different occasions again, over Boianai, although I think the Baniara people said they watched it travel across the sky from our direction. I should think that this is the first time that the “saucer” has been identified as such.

I do not doubt the existence of these “things” (indeed I cannot, now that I have seen one for myself) but my simple mind still requires scientific evidence before I can accept the from outer space theory. I am inclined to believe that probably many UFOs are more likely some form of electric phenomena, or perhaps something brought about by the atom bomb explosions, etc.

That Stephen should actually make out a saucer could be the work of the unconscious mind as it is very likely that at some time he has seen illustrations of some kind in a magazine, or it is very possible that saucers do exist, but it is only a 50/50 chance that they are not earth made, still less that they should carry men (more likely radio controlled), and it is still unproven that they are solids.

It is all too difficult to understand for me; I prefer to wait for some bright boy to catch one to be exhibited in Martin Square. Please return this report as I have no copy and I want Nor, [Rev. Norman Crutwell] to have it. 

Yours, Doubting William 

Anglican Mission, Boianai.

The very next day, Gill again wrote to Reverend Durie, this time with a strikingly different attitude:

Dear David,

Life is strange, isn’t it? Yesterday I wrote you a letter, (which I still intend sending you) expressing opinions re: The UFOs. Now, less than twenty-four hours later I have changed my views somewhat. Last night we at Boianai experienced about four hours of UFO activity, and there is no doubt whatsoever that they are handled by beings of some kind. At times it was absolutely breathtaking. Here is the report. Please pass it round, but great care must be taken as I have no other, and this, like the one I made out re: Stephen, will be sent to Nor. I would appreciate it if you could send the lot back as soon as poss.

Cheers,

Convinced Bill

The “UFO activity” Gill referred to began at 6:45 p.m. on June 26, 1959, when he noticed a bright white light in the Northwest sky.  It was such a striking sight that nearly forty other people came to watch it.  These witnesses then saw a four-legged, disc-shaped craft hovering over them.  Weirder still, the object was carrying four humanoid figures that were moving back and forth inside it.  A blue light periodically shone out of the craft.  The object remained above the mission for about forty-five minutes, after which it rose up into the sky and vanished.  At 8:30, several smaller crafts appeared, followed twenty minutes later by the return of the first “ship.”  This display was observed until nearly 11 p.m., when clouds obscured the sight.

The following night, the larger craft, with its four-humanoid crew, reappeared over the mission, followed by two smaller ones.  Gill later wrote, “On the large one, two of the figures seemed to be doing something near the center of the deck.  They were occasionally bending over and raising their arms as though adjusting or ‘setting up’ something.  One figure seemed to be standing, looking down at us.”

Father Gill's sketch of his unexpected visitors.

Gill--obviously feeling that every extraterrestrial was merely a friend he hadn’t met yet--waved amiably at the figure.  “To our surprise,” Gill related, “the figure did the same.  Amanias waved both arms over his head; then the two outside figures did the same.  Ananias and myself began waving our arms, and all four seemed to wave back.  There seemed no doubt that our movements were answered.”

After a bit more of this friendly back-and-forth waving, Gill--perhaps getting a bit bored with his Close Encounter--went inside for his dinner.  When he reemerged from the mission, the “ship” had moved away, but was still visible.  After church services had ended at 7:45, Gill went outside to look for the craft, but it was too cloudy to tell if it was still in the vicinity.  The next night, his new friends made yet another appearance in the sky--this time, he counted no less than eight objects over the mission.  A few hours later, there was an “ear-splitting explosion” above the mission’s roof.  The roof was undamaged, so the source of the noise was unknown.

Perhaps the sound was just the visitors saying “goodbye,” because the strange airships were never seen around the mission again.

Weekend Link Dump

 

Welcome to this post-Christmas Link Dump!

The Strange Company staffers are busy at the post-holiday sales.

What to do about radioactive reindeer?

What to do about phantom jellyfish?

Photos of what it was like to shop in Old London.

One of the earliest surviving decorated manuscripts.

The mystery of the woman with toxic blood.

W.B. Yeats' occult imagination.

When a Christmas party really is murder.

A pictorial history of Santa Claus.

Louisa May Alcott's version of "A Christmas Carol."

We bid farewell to 3I/Atlas, who stayed weird to the end.

An undertaker's Christmas Eve.

A scandalous murder.

A brief history of Christmas puddings.

An ancient "execution cemetery."

A whole lot of Victorian shoes have washed up on a beach, puzzling the hell out of everyone.

Mysterious ancient mass cremations in Scotland.

The Council of Nicaea.

An ancient stone labyrinth in India.

A now-obscure WWI tragedy at sea.

Madagascar's man-eating tree.

If anyone's craving authentic WWII-style mincemeat, here you go.

The disappearance of the Fort Worth Three.

The Not-Deer of Appalachia.

The man who revolutionized table tennis.

Some world leaders just should not throw Christmas parties.

When you're told "Good luck with the aliens," you know it's going to be a bumpy ride.

The squirrel who sold war bonds.

This is fun: 2025's nastiest book reviews.

The adopted cats of Snug Harbor.

The mystery of when, exactly, Vesuvius destroyed Pompeii.

The spiders of Jupiter.

The "lost rooms" of an Egyptian pyramid.

That's it for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll look at the time an Anglican priest met some friendly extraterrestrials.  In the meantime, here's Maddy Prior:

Newspaper Clippings of the Christmas Day

"Illustrated Police News," January 8, 1887, via Newspapers.com

All right, kids, you get three guesses what Aunt Undine is recommending you not do this Christmas Eve.  Let’s start with this item from the “Los Angeles Times,” December 20, 1998:

A 24-year-old man holiday caroling with his church youth group was shot and killed and a second man seriously wounded in a drive-by attack near Compton. Heder Faamausili and about a dozen friends had dropped a holiday basket at the door of two elderly women Friday night, and had finished singing "Silent Night," when the crackle of at least seven shots sent the carolers diving for cover. Faamausili, however, had nowhere to escape on the grassy center median of South Castlegate Avenue, where he had left the group briefly to talk to a neighborhood friend, Ben Leilua, 25. An older gold Cadillac pulled alongside the pair. The driver, saying nothing, leveled a pistol and fired at least seven shots, witnesses said.

Faamausili died three hours later at St. Francis Medical Center in Lynwood. Leilua was recovering at the same hospital Saturday with three gunshot wounds.

The “Miami Herald,” December 26, 1978:

A guitar-strumming Christmas caroler was shot and killed early Monday by a man who crashed a holiday celebration. 

Jesús Gabriel Pagán, 22, was shot in the right temple at such close range that powder burns were left all over his face, police said.  

Pagán died at the scene.  His assailant is still at large.

A rather gruesome example of what happens when you mix Christmas carolers and World War II appeared in the “Buffalo Courier Express,” December 26, 1944:

Raiding Japanese planes interrupted Christmas eve carolers singing “Silent Night” at Gen. MacArthur's headquarters.

Three warning blasts of the air raid alert system failed to halt the singers but they were stilled when the heavy ack-ack batteries opened a torrent of fire.

A cross beam of searchlights caught one enemy plane and illuminated him as bright as tinsel.  Shortly thereafter the intruder burst into flames in mid-air and seemed to hang an instant in the moonlight like the Star of Bethlehem.  Then he dropped into the sea.

Hundreds of GIs watching the sky performance let out a roaring cheer.

Then the imperturbable Wac and GI choristers resumed their caroling, this time with “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.”

“You can’t beat people like that,” remarked one soldier.

The “Jackson Citizen Patriot,” December 23, 1956:

Royal Oak police Saturday questioned several suspects in the shooting of a 14-year-old girl caroler who was walking with a friend when she was shot in the back.

Cindy Estes, a high school freshman, was described as in good condition at William Beaumont hospital after removal of the bullet. Police suspected a boy or young man may have been the assailant, although they said it was probably no one who knew the girl. A young man who had fired a pistol twice in an alley earlier was still sought.

The girl was walking home from a drugstore, singing Christmas carols with a friend, Virginia Wright, 15, when the shot was fired. The bullet missed Cindy's spine by an inch. 

"Oh, Ginny, I've been shot," she told her friend. Then the girls walked two blocks to Cindy's home before help was summoned.

The “Coshocton Tribune,” December 24, 1974:

CANTON, Ohio (UP) -Judy Lombardi, 10, Canton, was shot in the shoulder by an elderly woman Monday night while Christmas caroling on the city's southeast side. 

Police said the woman had had her purse snatched a couple of weeks ago and apparently mistook the group for vandals. 

The girl, who was on the woman's porch with other youngsters when the shooting occurred, was listed in guarded condition at Aultman Hospital.

Just to show that at least some people had some Christmas common sense (or sense of self-preservation,) I’ll end with this item from the “Illustrated Police News,” December 29, 1888:

Happy Evesham!  In the great city of Birmingham, householders, tormented before their time by hordes of so-called carol singers, have found no comfort but in grumbling and writing to the papers.  But the Mayor of Prince Henry’s little borough has a short way of dealing with such premature celebrations.  He has sharply issued an edict prohibiting out-door carol singing within his jurisdiction until Christmas Eve.  We believe that from time immemorial the Mayor of Evesham has been autocratic in these matters.  To blow a trumpet in any public thoroughfare as a preliminary to giving or receiving of alms, or to mercenarily conduct one’s family devotions at the corners of the streets in distorted versions of Sankey’s hymns, without the express permission of his worship, is an offence for which the offenders may be and are incontinently locked-up or seen over the borough boundary.  We do not know whether such a power resides in the head of a mushroom municipality like Birmingham.  We are afraid if every gutter tootler and proprietor--for so much a head per diem--of a family of squalling ragamuffins had to wait personally upon his worship before commencing operations the mayoralty itself would soon go a-begging.

Merry Christmas, gang!

Just let someone else sing.  And dodge bullets.

Carried Away By A Ghost; Or, Just Another Day in Wales

The thing I love most about Wales is that they keep trotting out some of the damndest ghost stories:  Ones that are both oddly matter-of-fact and uniquely bonkers.  A wonderfully quaint example played out in the otherwise fairly normal pages of the “South Wales Daily News” in 1893.  On October 28, the paper reported:

Great excitement has prevailed during the past few days at Llwynypia and the adjacent districts in consequence of startling allegations by Mr John Dunn and his wife, who reside at 9, Amelia-terrace, Llwynypia, and also by several neighbours. These persons state that for several nights past hideous apparitions have been witnessed, and unaccountable peculiar noises heard, in the bedrooms and other parts of the cottage. The premises have been visited by hundreds of persons during the past two or three days, and watched by Sergeant Hayle, P.C. Pearce, and the other constables for hours in the evening, but nothing unusual has been discovered by them. On Thursday evening a well-known quoiter and a number of footballers stood for some time in front of the cottage, eagerly waiting the appearance of the ghost, and it is stated that the bravest of the football men was suddenly startled by an alleged supernatural visitant.

Our representative, accompanied by Mr Tom John, schoolmaster, called upon Mrs Dunn yesterday afternoon to receive her own version of the affair. The house is a four-roomed one with a pantry adjoining one of the rooms near the back door. As we paced along the terrace (writes our representative), consisting of about 20 houses, situated on the mountain side, men and women were standing on the thresholds discussing the matter. We entered the cottage and found Mrs Dunn standing by a tub upon a chair washing some wearing apparel.

"Is this the house where the ghost has been causing disturbance?" I asked.

"Yes, sir; take a chair, gentlemen, if you please."

Mr John, who is the Welsh representative on the executive committee of the National Union of Teachers, and myself seated ourselves immediately at her request, and then she unfolded her strange story.

"On Wednesday evening, about nine o' clock," she broke forth, in a somewhat low voice, "I was standing near the pantry door, and suddenly the back door opened, and a tall apparition robed in white appeared close by me right before my eyes. I shrieked, and instantly it stretched forth both arms and clutched me tightly. There was no one in the house beside myself at the time. I lost my sense, and found myself shortly afterwards in an outhouse. The ghost told me there that he was going to take me away with him. I was dumb, could not utter a word for some time. There he kept me, holding me upon the wooden seat, and telling me in Welsh to raise a brick for him. I could not do so. The scones and the few bricks moved, and a rattle was heard by me. Then I was lifted up bodily and taken out and raised up into the air, and I lost my senses again. Afterwards, when I came to myself I found myself by the brink of a pond lower down on the hill-side, and he threatened to chuck me into the water and drown me. In taking me there the ghost had to lift me over a fence seven feet high."

"Was the ghost still talking in Welsh?"

"Oh, yes; and he also talked to me in English, but I spoke to him in Welsh."

"What were the words in Welsh?"

"Mae rhaid i ti ddyfod gyda mi."  [“You have to come with me.”]

At this stage of our conversation, two or three of the neighbours entered the kitchen where we were seated, and they enlivened the proceedings by narrating what they had heard and seen in and about the premises. Mrs Dunn, resuming her tale, said, "This house has been troubled by the ghost for nearly seven months off and on, but it is during the past few days that we have been greatly disturbed."

"How was he attired?"

One of the neighbours standing close by Mr John and myself interjected excitedly "He had a pair of moleskin trousers on, I think, and a white sheet over his shoulders."

"It was not a man, was it?"

"No, because he vanished into air all at once, and then appeared before our very eyes and went off again. Here, this little girl has seen him many times" (pointing to a girl about 16 years of age standing near). "She can tell more than we can."

Mrs Dunn looked quite pale, but did not appear to be suffering from any sort of mental aberration. Proceeding with her account of the strange affair, she said, "Men living in this locality have been sleeping in turns upstairs for days past for the purpose of getting to the bottom of the matter. They hear the latch rattling and rapping on the doors and noises like the shuffling of feet and the clatter of crockery, and other noises, and they can't see anything."

Mr John put several questions to her, and in reply she stated that the ghost had told her she would have peace in future, and that he would not torment her again. She received that ghostly assurance, according to her statement to Mr John, on the preceding night. Another of the neighbours who had patiently listened to all this, observed that she had also seen a shadow of the ghost on the wall opposite her house, and she thought that the ghost was wearing corduroy breeches. She said that a "Christian young man," and very religious, was one of the men who were sitting up in turns all night in the house, and he had experienced the very same thing as they and Mrs Dunn had. "Jack," the husband, who was a native of Somersetshire, was also troubled be the spectre, and he sincerely believed it was a ghost. The pond has been visited by hundreds of people during the past day or two, and they all marvel at the strength of the "goblin" in lifting or conveying the landlady over the high fence.

"What's the cause of the appearance of the ghost, or why does he trouble you more than the neighbours?" asked our representative.

"Well, I don't know," replied Mrs Dunn.

"An old man was taken to the asylum from here many years ago," broke forth one of the neighbours, "and he wore ribbed trousers and moleskin trousers sometimes, and I think his spirit has returned to look for a bag of gold which, it is said, he left behind. A lot of people have been searching the place for money yesterday."

P.C. Pearce, Llwynypia, stated that the pond to the brink of which the ghost carried Mrs Dunn is about 300 yards away from the cottage. He had been telling "Jack," the husband, that the noise he heard in the house at night was not produced by a ghost, but it was no use arguing with "Jack," because it only drove him out of temper. The delusion had stuck in "Jack's" mind, and also in his wife's and neighbours' brains. A very large number of people had visited the premises, and remained outside the house until a late hour in the evening. Dr. Jennings had also visited the premises, and described the whole affair, according to P.C. Pearce, as a pack of nonsense. But the matter is, nevertheless, the topic of the day in the district, and has caused a great sensation among the residents.

On November 7th, readers heard from Mrs. Dunn directly:

We have received a long letter from the woman who alleges that she was visited in her house at Llwynypia by a spectre, which carried her bodily away and deposited her a considerable distance from her dwelling. In the course of her somewhat discursive epistle, Mrs Downe [sic], of 8, Amelia-terrace, says: - "I am the woman who was carried away, and I am the woman who can tell you the truth about it. I have plenty of witnesses who have heard the noise, and I had plenty of company in the house when he (the ghost) took me away. They asked the constable who looks after the company's houses to stop here a night to hear and see, if he could, but he did not come.

I was sitting on a chair by the fire, with three other persons - Mrs Lewis, Mrs George, and John Samuel. The company was outside. It was at half-past eight in the evening, as near as I can say, when the ghost pulled me off the chair towards him to the passage. I was afraid, and I screamed, and jumped back to my chair. He was still there. Mrs Lewis told me to speak to him. I felt too nervous at first, but after a time I started to speak to him, when, before I could finish my words he pushed me out from the house and across the bailey and into the water closet. Here he lifted me on to the seat, standing, and he pointed to the top of the wall.

He told me in Welsh to raise the stone and take what was under it, and that I must go with him. That was all he said to me there. Then he took me down about 200 yards from the house. I cannot tell you how he took me from the closet because I lost all my control. I found myself by the brim of a pond. Here he took from he what I had in my hand, and threw it into the water. Then he told me he should never trouble me any more. So that's all the truth, and I hope you'll be so kind as to put the truth down in your paper.

I am not able to do the washing nor anything else; I am not the same woman that I was before, and I don't think I ever will be. I can give you these names and many others who can swear to what I have said - John Samuel, 9 Amelia Terrace; Mrs Lewis, 1 Amelia Terrace; and Mrs George, 11 Amelia Terrace."

So.

Weekend Link Dump

 

Welcome to this week’s Link Dump!

The Strange Company staffers are already feeling the Christmas spirit.  Or something.

A question of royal legitimacy.

The royal history of some stolen sapphires.

A particularly interesting feature of some near-death experiences.

A new timeline for ancient Egypt.

Solving a Dead Sea Scrolls riddle.

A mysterious "lady in white" with a surprise for everyone.

An ancient undersea wall.

John Dee goes to college.

The train wreck that birthed the American subway system.

The life of Suleyman the Magnificent.

Aggie Underwood, crime reporter.

A look at some Christmas legends.

Tolkien didn't think much of automobiles.

On the need for imaginative archaeologists.

Why oranges are put in Christmas stockings.

Midwinter at Christ Church, Spitalfields.

You know how shoes with human feet in them keep turning up in the Pacific Northwest?  Well...

That time when Andrew Jackson threw one hell of a cheese party.

A selection of gruesome Christmas gifts.

The origin of the Wars of the Roses.

Dr. Cream, the Lambeth Poisoner.

A very busy executioner.

The graffiti of Pompeii.

When Robert Louis Stevenson gave away his birthday.

The significance of a 3 million year old foot.

When you introduce a new calendar, things get complicated.

The letters of Jane Austen.

A haunted distillery.

Inca's "hair records."

When dating a twin means double trouble.

The mysterious Newport Tower.

That's it for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll meet a particularly weird Welsh ghost.  In the meantime, here's a striking version of a lovely Christmas song.

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

What’s the Christmas season without a ghost or two?  The “Bristol Mercury,” January 13, 1823:

To the Editor of the Bristol Mercury. 

Sir--In my present excursions in this country, 

Through land of leeks, with Welshmen sped, 

From Afon Gwy to Dewi's Head, 

I may be enabled to send you some occasional communications if you think proper to find a corner in your Demi Cambrian Paper. 

A most extraordinary sensation has been lately excited in the village of Llandoga, midway between Chepstow and Monmonth. 

"The windows shake, the drawers crack, 

Each thinks that Nick's behind his back,

And hitches to the fire.”

On the 31st Dec. last, the house of Wm. Edwards, formerly a local preacher in the Wesleyan connexion, but now estranged from that society, was beset by some (as it is said) invisible spirit, which so violently disturbed the man and his family, by demolishing his earthen-ware, and breaking his glasses, in such unfriendly and unneighbourly manner, that he was obliged to remove to another house, farther up the village, when lo! this crockery-destroying demon pursued his victim to the new residence, and as he had acted on the last day of 1822, so he commenced on the first day of 1823 by kicking the remainder of the perishable furniture down the stairs, and other strange whims, almost too comical for the old gentleman or his imps to enact. On my passing through this village on Tuesday last, I endeavoured to catch the floating opinions of men's minds, of which the following is an epitome.

1. Mr. Edwards is of the opinion that it is the buffeting of Satan, on his determination to become a new man, and to enter again into a state of warfare with that enemy of mankind. 

2. A native of the diocese of St. David's will have it, that the preacher has sometime or other promised a ghost or sprite to meet it, in order to the discovery of hidden treasure, and that he has omitted, or forgotten his appointment. 

3. But some respectable informants there, are convinced that this affair forms a fit sequel to, or a triad with that of Ann Moore, the Tetbury Fasting Impostor, and Scratching Fanny, the Cocklane Ghost. 

An inquiring and well-informed public expects that Mr. Edwards will illustrate, if he can, for it certainly is a scandalous imposition of someone, but I will not say who, for fear of mistakes.

Mr. Editor, you will please to observe these are not the crudities of Tom Coryate, but of real events occurring in the travels of your old correspondent. 

THOMAS TICKLE. Jan. 9, 1825.

The Body in the Mine Shaft and a Strange Miscarriage of Justice

This week, we look at the case of a murder victim who turned out to not be a murder victim.  Even though a murder had definitely been committed.  Throw in a murderer who turned out to not be a murderer, and about all you can say is that Life Gets Complicated.

In January 1925, a 31-year-old man named Condy Dabney left his home in Coal Creek, Tennessee to look for work.  His wife and two children stayed behind in Coal Creek until he was able to resettle.  Fortunately, he found employment in a mine near Coxton, Kentucky.  He impressed everyone as a quiet, amiable, law-abiding man.

Soon after Dabney arrived in Coxton, a 16-year-old girl named Roxy Baker disappeared, under circumstances considered mysterious enough for a Grand Jury to be called in.  Just before the jurors met, three Coxton men also inexplicably vanished.  The Grand Jury found nothing connecting the four disappearances, but they were unable to come to any conclusions about Coxton’s sudden depopulation.

In early July, Dabney gave up his mining job to start a taxi service.  A month later, Coxton was rocked by further disappearing acts:  Two married women and a 14-year-old girl named Mary Vickery.  Although no clue was ever found about the whereabouts of the adult women, two Coxton men--William Middleton and Condy Dabney--had been seen taking Mary for automobile rides, which made them the obvious--indeed, only--suspects in her disappearance.  However, the Grand Jury was unable to find any other incriminating evidence against the men, so they were released from custody.

In September, Dabney heard that one of his children was sick, so he left Coxton to find work closer to home.  The following month, United States Marshal Adrian Metcalf got a tip that an illegal still was operating in an abandoned mine shaft on Ivy Hill, just outside of Coxton, so he went to investigate.

In the course of his search, he found something far worse than moonshine.  In yet another abandoned shaft, he found some women’s clothing and an ominous-looking pile of stones.  He brought in some backup, and the men began digging.  Before long, they unearthed a body.  The corpse was too decomposed to allow identification to be possible, but they believed it was of a girl in her early teens.  This led to the obvious presumption that these were the remains of the still-missing Mary Vickery.  Townspeople--particularly a young woman named Marie Jackson--immediately began gossiping that Condy Dabney was responsible for the girl’s murder.  The stories told about Dabney were considered damming enough for authorities to visit his home in Coal Creek to question him, but apparently he was able to convince them of his innocence.  Unfortunately for him, the Grand Jury felt otherwise.  On March 18, 1926, they returned an indictment charging Dabney with Mary Vickery’s murder.

At Dabney’s trial, Mary’s father testified that he was certain the body found in the old shaft was that of his daughter, largely on the basis of a ring he found in the shaft after the corpse was discovered.  He also claimed that a stocking found at the scene was identical to one Mary owned, and that the “sandy like and bobbed” hair on the corpse matched that of his daughter.  On cross-examination, Vickery stated that Mary had never run away from home before, and denied rumors that she had a bad relationship with her stepmother.  Defense lawyers got Vickery to admit that he had not attended the corpse’s funeral, and allowed the county to take charge of the burial.  When asked about this seeming neglect, he hesitated, which caused Dabney’s attorney, G.G. Rawlings, to declare, “You did not know that was your girl, that is what you started to say, wasn’t it?”

“At the present time I wasn’t perfectly sure,” Vickery admitted.

It turned out that there was a great deal of confusion about the body’s identity.  Witnesses were produced who testified to Vickery’s uncertainty about whether the corpse was Mary’s or not.  Nobody could agree on the color of the corpse’s hair--some described it as brown and fine, others said it was black and coarse.

The chief witness against Dabney was Marie Jackson.  She testified that on the morning that Mary disappeared, she and Mary hailed a ride from Dabney’s taxi.  He drove them to a Coxton restaurant, where Marie got out.  Dabney drove off with Mary still in his car.  Dabney and Mary came back at about 1 p.m., after which the trio drove out to Ivy Hill.  They got out of the car and sat in a clearing, where they talked for a while.  Then Dabney asked Marie to go off behind the hill for a while, so he could talk to Mary alone.  Marie claimed that she obeyed, although she could still see the two of them.  According to Marie, she saw Dabney embrace Mary.  When the girl objected, Dabney repeatedly beat her with a stick.  After the attack, Dabney walked over to Marie, warning her that if she ever told a soul about what she had seen, he would “burn her at the stake.”  As she fled, she saw Dabney carrying Mary’s body into the mine shaft.  Curiously, she willingly got another ride from Dabney the following day.  The topic of Mary’s murder, she said, never came up.

Three young women--two sisters named Stewart and a “Miss Smith”--testified that on the afternoon of Mary’s disappearance, the Stewart sisters and Mary were walking along a road, when Dabney drove by, offering them a lift. They declined, but after they were joined by William Middleton and one Otis King, the three girls rode with them for a short time, after which the Stewarts left, leaving Mary in the car with Middleton and King.  These two men substantiated this story.  All this took place between two and four p.m., which contradicted Marie Jackson’s claim that she had been with Mary and Dabney on Ivy Hill from one p.m. until dusk.

The state brought out a “jailhouse witness”--one Claude Scott, who had been imprisoned with Dabney for a short time before the trial.  He was an old friend of Marie Jackson.  He claimed that he had given Marie a letter from Dabney, and that Dabney had offered him fifteen dollars to testify in his favor.  Claude said that Dabney “tried to make me remember stuff that Marie Jackson should have said through that window to me; while he was sitting there he tried to make me remember stuff I never heard her say and she never said to me.”

When Dabney himself took the stand, he stated that he did not remember ever having Mary Vickery in his taxi, although he admitted that it might have happened, as he often gave rides to people he did not know.  He did, however, occasionally taxi Marie Jackson.  He declared that he had never been on Ivy Hill, and had no idea in the world what had happened to Mary Vickery.

Unfortunately for Dabney, the jurors obviously found Marie Jackson’s lurid tale more convincing than his protestations of innocence.  On March 31, 1926, they delivered a guilty verdict, with a recommendation for life imprisonment.  Dabney faced the prospect of spending the rest of his days doing hard labor at the state penitentiary in Frankfort.

Dabney’s lawyer immediately appealed the verdict.  While the appeal was still pending, a policeman named George Davis checked into a hotel in Williamsburg, Kentucky.  He happened to notice the name “Mary Vickery” on the register.  The name rang a bell with him, although he could not remember why.  When he asked hotel workers about it, he learned that someone by that name had once lived in the hotel, but she went across the Cumberland River to visit friends.  Davis--who had, by then, remembered that Mary Vickery was supposed to be dead--managed to track her down.

Marie Jackson

Mary told him that she had left Coxton on August 23, 1925, because she couldn’t get on with her stepmother.  She took a taxi to the train station.  The driver was a stranger, but the description she gave of him matched that of Dabney.  She said she didn’t even know Marie Jackson.  Mary went to various cities, finally settling in Cincinnati, where she worked in a woolen mill.  She admitted that while there, she heard that a man had been convicted of her murder.  When asked why she hadn’t let anyone know that she was very much alive, Mary replied, “I just never thought about that.”

After Mary was persuaded to return to Coxton, embarrassed officials immediately pardoned Dabney, and appointed a special prosecutor, G.J. Jarvis, to investigate Marie Jackson.  The young woman obviously had some explaining to do.  Despite this official inquiry, it remains uncertain why Marie was so eager to ruin an innocent man’s life.  Jarvis was of the opinion that she concocted her testimony to get the $500 reward that had been offered for information about Mary’s disappearance.  However, Dabney himself said that Marie had accused him of murder out of revenge because “I refused to desert my family for her.”  In any case, Marie was convicted of perjury on March 27, 1927.  Coincidentally enough, on that very same day Mary Vickery was married to a C.E. Dempsey.

After this coda, everyone involved went on with their lives, leaving behind one rather obvious question:  Who was the body in the mine shaft, and who killed her?   It was speculated that the corpse was that of a young woman named Leslie (or Letitia) Cole, who vanished around the same time as Mary Vickery.  Interestingly, Mrs. Cole’s estranged husband Carlo was said to have been romantically involved with none other than Marie Jackson.

It is possible that Marie knew much more about this unsolved murder than she ever let on.

Weekend Link Dump

 

Welcome to this week's Link Dump!

Let the show begin!

The notorious disappearance of Flight 19.

A case of lethal self-defense.

Public bathing in ancient Rome.

The 1915 sinking of HMS Goliath.

That time when someone translated "Dracula" into Icelandic, and things got weird.

The volcanic eruption that may have triggered the Black Death.

Some "lost" Bach pieces have been performed for the first time in over 300 years.

When "Pride and Prejudice" was rejected by a publisher.  (Confession time: I love "P&P," but oddly enough, I've never been able to get through any of Austen's other novels.  I found them all boring.)

A man's bizarre disappearance and death.

Prehistoric "3D storytelling."

The Bayeux Tapestry is hitting the road.

King John and the lost Crown Jewels.

Confirmation of how ancient Romans made concrete.

It seems that humans can sense buried objects without touching them.

The West Point Eggnog Riot.

Why we have two nostrils.

No doubt you'll be gratified to learn that we now know what happens when you send a menstrual cup into space.

Victorian poetry killed off Santa Claus.

The ghost of Paines Hollow.

The Battle of May Island.

The female gladiators of ancient Rome.

Photos of the streets of Old London.

A heroic last stand during WWI.

The ghost of the victim of an unsolved murder.

The unsolved murder of a telegraph operator.

The near-shipwreck which inspired "The Poseidon Adventure."

The oldest known evidence for humans making fire.

A "misunderstood distaste for bathing."

Cousin Molly's Christmas fund.

That's all for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll look at an unusually complicated murder case.  In the meantime, here's a Christmas season remembrance of the late, much-missed Rev. Robert Willis.

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

In January 1907, a salt merchant named Samuel Hughes left his home in Blackwood, Wales, for an ordinary business trip. Soon afterwards, his dead body was found beneath a bridge.  The investigation into his death was largely unremarkable--it was ruled that in the darkness, Hughes had accidentally fallen off the bridge--but the inquest was marked by an eerie incident related by Hughes’ wife.  Her testimony was recorded in the “South Wales Gazette” for January 25:

A curious story is related by the widow, Mrs. Hughes, who states that she sat up all Saturday night waiting for her husband to come home. At 3 a.m.  she heard a familiar voice cry out, “Bess, Bess,” whereupon she rushed to the front door, expecting to find her husband there. On opening the door, she declares that she saw a figure robed in black and wearing a tall hat, such as her husband often wore. The apparition--for such she now deems it to be--vanished immediately the door was open. Interviewed at Blackwood on Monday afternoon by a Press representative, Mrs. Hughes emphatically confirmed the statement that she had seen an apparition, which she believed to be that of her husband.

"My husband,” she said, "went to Newport on Saturday, and said that he would return by the 5 o'clock train. I met that train, but he did not come. I sat up during the night, sitting in a chair by the fire in the living room. At 3 o'clock in the morning I heard his voice calling “Bess, Bess," and I also distinctly heard his footsteps. I went to the door, and there saw a figure robed in black clothes, with a silk hat on.  The next minute it had vanished. I took the candle and went round the house, but could not find anything. It was pitch dark, and there was not a sound to be heard. I was very much startled, but went back and resumed my seat by the fire for time, and then went and lay down on the bed until daybreak.  I was the more alarmed because on the previous Thursday I had had a remarkable dream, in which I saw my husband engaged in a scuffle with men whose appearance I distinctly remember, and could, if needed, describe.

“After the scuffle ended my husband fell to the ground. This dream has made a great impression on me, so much so that when my husband left on Saturday morning I implored him to be careful, and he assured me he would follow my advice."

If you have any confidence in the concept of precognitive dreams, it may well be that--despite the inquest’s verdict--Mr. Hughes’ death was no accident.

A Family Affair: The Sinister Death of Mary Stanley

[Note: I wrote this as a guest post for the blog "Executed Today" way back in 2011, but I thought this tale of a young woman's mysterious death--with a decidedly weird cast of characters--was definitely Strange Company material.]

When reflecting upon the life and times of Edgar Allan Poe, Edward Wagenknecht once wrote that “One might also say of Poe that he lived in a Gothic novel. Hardly anybody behaves normally in this history.” Of all the names one finds in Poe’s biographies, no one better illustrates these words than Marie Louise Barney Shew Houghton. While there were many players in Poe’s life story who undoubtedly deserved to be put in the dock, (the Reverend Rufus Wilmot Griswold being merely the most famous example,) Mrs. Houghton was the only one of the lot who faced the prospect of being tried, and very possibly convicted and executed, of first-degree murder.

Mrs. Houghton is known to history as having been the nurse of Poe’s wife Virginia during her final illness, as well as an all-around Poe family benefactor. This saintly reputation, unfortunately, comes largely from her own boasts on the matter, made many years after the poet’s death. In 1875, she began a correspondence with Poe’s early biographer John H. Ingram. Her avowed intent was to insure that she—as opposed to other ladies who were vying for the title—would be remembered as Poe’s dear friend and guardian angel. Unfortunately, at the time she contacted Ingram, she was clearly in appalling shape, mentally and emotionally. The numerous extant letters she wrote him—which date from January to June of 1875–are always rambling, usually incoherent, and occasionally quite insane. She related to Ingram many colorful stories about Poe that are completely uncorroborated, patently absurd, and often at complete variance with the known facts. Ingram privately acknowledged that Mrs. Houghton was mentally unstable, and he suspected as well that she was enhancing, or even completely inventing, many Poe anecdotes, in order to keep their correspondence alive. He wound up dismissing her with the euphemism, “imaginative.” In spite of all this, Ingram—who was desperately in need of original source material about the ever-elusive Poe—wound up relaying far too much of her dubious information in his 1880 biography, and, even more unforgivably, Poe’s modern-day historians repeat unquestioningly this same apocrypha to this day.

One wonders what Ingram’s reaction would have been if he had known anything about his pen-pal’s personal life. Marie Houghton was a predecessor to today’s “New Age” devotees. Her first marriage, to the “water-cure” practitioner Joel Shew, gave her an avenue into what were the more extreme circles of Transcendentalist faddism, which embraced alternative medicine, “free love,” “freethinking,” communal living, and disdain for established institutions. Ironically, she represented everything Poe most despised in contemporary society.

In the mid-1840s, Marie Louise separated from her husband and entered into an affair with another member of their circle, Dr. Ronald Houghton, although she continued to live with Dr. Shew. In 1849, she gave birth to a son, Henry, who was probably acknowledged as Houghton’s, although at least one historian has theorized that the father was a third man who was living with (and financially aiding) the Shews. The next year, the Shews divorced and she married Houghton. Although they had several more children, the marriage proved unhappy, and they too separated. She continued to work as a nurse, while indulging in a number of extremely complicated and very dodgy financial and property transactions on the side.

However, it was this son Henry who proved to be the catalyst that brought Mrs. Houghton serious trouble. After a varied and exciting career out west where he was charged with adultery, mule thievery, swindling, and “open and notorious lewdness,” Henry Houghton returned to the family home in New York, bringing with him his mistress, Mary E. Stanley, who had evidently been Henry’s partner in crime as well. With them was a toddler who was understood to have been their child, even though Mary was at the time married to another man.

In 1876, the now-pregnant Mrs. Stanley was living with the Houghton family, although by this point Henry appears to have tired of her. Her common-law mother-in-law, Mrs. Houghton, acted as her sole medical attendant. Unfortunately, Mrs. Stanley died soon after giving birth. The Houghtons failed to summon a doctor until she was obviously at death’s door. Very curiously, she was quickly buried without a death certificate having been issued, apparently at the instigation of Marie Houghton. After her burial, the undertaker prevailed upon the physician who had been at her deathbed, a Dr. Bleecker, to provide him with some sort of certificate. Bleecker was reluctant to do so, as he had never actually treated the deceased, but finally issued one with the noncommittal statement that the cause of death appeared to be “congestive chills.”

Mary Stanley’s death would have passed unremarked had it not been for a collection of letters she had written to a friend, which was soon brought to the attention of the authorities. In brief, these letters stated that Mrs. Houghton wished to perform an abortion on her. (It was alleged that Houghton supplemented her income as a professional—and, on occasion, fatally incompetent—abortionist.) When Mrs. Stanley refused, she attempted to give her patient certain “medicines” which Mrs. Stanley believed were intended to permanently rid the Houghtons of her as well. Faced with this uncooperative attitude, Mrs. Houghton “became cruel to her, and starved both herself and her child.” The question of why she remained in the household appeared to be answered by murky and never-clarified issues regarding the estate of Mrs. Houghton’s late estranged husband. It was said that she stubbornly stayed put in an effort to defend the interests of Mrs. Houghton’s other son, Frank, who was involved with a legal dispute with his mother over a certain piece of property. There was a good deal of nightmarishly complex litigation surrounding Dr. Houghton’s estate, and evidently Mrs. Stanley played some crucial role regarding the dispute over the distribution of Roland Houghton’s properties. According to these letters, Mrs. Stanley was attempting to act as some sort of a roadblock in schemes Henry and his mother were attempting in relation to the matter. 

After the local coroner and District Attorney had read their fill of these missives, their first act was to have Mrs. Houghton arrested.

An inquest was soon held, and these letters, as well as testimonies of friends of the dead woman, were presented to the jury. A lurid picture was painted of Mrs. Houghton’s long career of poisoning (including two alleged attempts against her husband,) abortions both successful and fatal (Mrs. Stanley wrote of seeing “terrible things” in the Houghton’s cellar that related to this practice—other testimony agreed that she literally knew where the bodies were buried,) financial fraud, and all-purpose cruelty. Mrs. Stanley wrote that “I do not think there is another woman as bad as her living,” and if half of what was related about her at the inquest was true, this was a genteel understatement. Mrs. Stanley also declared that the Houghtons wanted her dead, not only for the fact that she “knew too much” about their depraved dealings, but because she was threatening to “swear her child” on Henry Houghton—i.e., hit him with a paternity suit. (The inquest also included testimony that Mrs. Houghton expressed great joy that Mary Stanley’s death freed her son from taking responsibility for his mistress and their child.)

When Mrs. Houghton took the stand in her defense, it was said that she gave her testimony “fairly and with much plausibility.” She simply denied everything the dead woman had written. Mrs. Stanley, she said, was a designing criminal who had robbed her son “not only of his money, but of his good name.” She had allowed the pregnant woman to live in her house out of pure Christian charity. Mrs. Stanley’s death, on September 12th 1876, was of a “congestive chill” that came on so suddenly there was no time to send for a doctor. She admitted that she had practiced medicine from 1851 until the previous year, when she was threatened with imprisonment if she did not cease her unaccredited ministrations. She also conceded that Mrs. Stanley had threatened to “crush” the Houghton family, and that “something disagreeable” had occurred several months before that had inspired Mrs. Stanley to write these accusatory letters. However, it was also revealed that at the time of Mrs. Houghton’s arrest, certain family papers were seized by the authorities which corroborated much of what the deceased had alleged.

When Dr. Bleecker testified, he could say only that an autopsy on the dead woman “could not determine the cause of death satisfactorily.”

After all this, it is quite startling to read that the jury ruled that Mary Stanley died of natural causes, “from hemorrhage and exhaustion while in labor.” The only way of explaining this conclusion (which seemed to have no evidence to back it up) is to note that from the newspaper reports, the jury was clearly on Mrs. Houghton’s side from the beginning. In fact, the jury attempted to halt the inquest very early on, claiming they had heard enough evidence to reach a verdict. The coroner and DA overruled them, insisting that they hear additional witnesses. Also, one of the jurors questioned a doctor who testified, asking if it wasn’t true that pregnant women were often prone to paranoid fancies, where they imagined dangers that did not exist. When the doctor admitted that such things were possible, this obviously sealed the deal for this panel. The reason for this obvious bias in favor of the defendant is, most unfortunately, unknown.

The case was left open for further investigation, but as far as can be ascertained by a search of contemporary newspapers, the matter was closed as far as the authorities were concerned. Marie Houghton left the court a free woman, if not exactly one without a stain on her character. She died less than a year later, at the age of fifty-five, on September 3, 1877.

One of the strangest things about this case is the fact that it has attracted so little attention, from that time to this. The only detailed contemporary accounts I have been able to uncover are a handful of articles from one newspaper, the “Brooklyn Eagle,” and two columns in the “New York Herald” which simply repeated some of the information published in the Eagle. Even though the story contained enough scandal to keep a platoon of yellow journalists in clover for years, it was otherwise ignored. Despite the fact that the central character was a figure well-known to anyone who has the slightest interest in Poe’s life, this grotesque little episode appears to be unknown to his biographers. It is a great pity that deeper investigation in the matter appears impossible at this late date, as from what was reported, Marie Houghton was either the most viciously slandered woman of her era, or a monster Poe himself could not have created in his darkest fits of imagination.

Weekend Link Dump

 

Welcome to this week's Link Dump!

Feel free to visit the Strange Company HQ open bar.

In which a performance of "Julius Caesar" gets a bit too realistic.

Short version:  Human lineage is complicated.

The mystery of the "Hebridean Hum."

The mystery surrounding the discovery of penicillin.

The monsters of America.

A maharani's memorial.

Guess what?  3I/Atlas is still weird!

An overlooked Victorian illustrator.

The history of an 18th century gallows.

A fake epidemic that saved lives.

The Beardmore Relics.

A visit to the King's Chapel of the Savoy.

The medium who tricked Arthur Conan Doyle.

A brief history of Christmas carps.

A brief history of gingerbread.

How the Roman military brought cats to Europe.

The hunt for an emperor's jewels.

A dying man's burial request.

The odd case of the Woman Who Walked At Night.

Mars may have had millions of years of tropical storms.

The "great dying" of early colonial America.

The great variety of near-death experiences.

Christmas in Belle Époque France.

A new debate over old UFO reports.

The violent end to a marriage.

The life of Agnes of Dunbar.

An amiable scoundrel.

That's it for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll look at a woman's very suspicious death.  In the meantime, bring on the Christmas carols!

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

This tale of an unusually eerie bit of real estate appeared in the “Richmond Times-Dispatch,” August 7, 1904:

SOUTH BOSTON, VA., August 6. There is a cabin in this county that has been haunted for forty-three years. The haunted cabin is eighteen miles west of South Boston, near Stebbins, Va, two miles from the public road.

Down by a creek in an old pine field, the darkest, dreariest, most forsaken place that one could picture--there stands a lone log cabin, with a family graveyard all sunken, with ivy, locust and plum bushes. This place is known as Aunt Tabby Anderson's, who was a widow with four children, in the days of 1861--three boys and one girl, and the afflictions of this family were extremely sad in this log cabin. Her oldest son, Joe, and Meredith, the youngest, a bright lad of fifteen years, lived on the magnificent farm of Mr. A. A. Fomer, who allowed them this house, rent free.

In this cabin, in the early days of '61, her son Joe came to his mother with a sad face and told her that he had to go and join Lee's army, and he had one request to make--that was, he had seen a vision and he would be killed In battle--and he wished his remains brought home and buried at the end of this cabin. The youngest son was left alone with the widowed mother. A month later this boy came running home screaming and fell on the doorsteps and was taken with violent convulsions, and when he revived could simply say he saw something, and for thirty-five years was prostrated without reason save as a child. This was the first intimation of these mysterious happenings. 

The widow, about thirty days after the departure of her son, remarked that if she had some paper and envelopes she would go and get Chesley Andorson (a merchant) to write to Joe.  Immediately they were at her feet, the letter was written.

Her son was killed. 

She at once set to work to get his remains home, and after a lapse of two months a box supposed to contain remains of her son was placed in the family burying ground, as he had requested. 

Then these mysterious happenings multiplied.  Rocks would fall on and in the cabin and come through cracks in the log house that no one could get them back through the same openings. The door would raise from its hinges and move out doors. Articles of furniture, clothing, bedding and, cooking utensils, would move about noisily and afterwards would often be found suspended In the trees and bushes, All this caused great excitement throughout the vicinity, and parties of men, middle-aged and old men, visited this place night after night for weeks, even years, and yet the mystery can not be explained. On one occasion a party of ten men took with them dogs and guns and surrounded the cabin before night, and the dogs would whine and crouch at their feet. This only seemed to intensify the display of rocks, for they fell out and in the cabin in great force and quantities.

A few days later a plow was seen to come in one door and go out at the other. The water bucket was seen to move of its own accord, and these same conditions have existed for forty-three years. This widow lived with her afflicted son until 1896. She also had a son blind for twenty years, who died only three years ago.  She had one granddaughter who burned to death, and now the entire family has passed from this life. 

It is said that at the death of Aunt Tabby in 1896, that the shower of rocks on the cabin equalled the worst hailstorm ever heard. 

I could fill columns of your paper and yet one-thousandth part of these strange happenings could not be told. If any reader of The Times-Dispatch doubts this story, they can write any citizen in that locality and get the evidence. 

Mr. Willie Dunn now owns the place, and has a family living in this cabin, and the writer was informed by the lady that she was nervous and would not look at the ghost work, but her husband saw lights and only a week ago the door could not be kept shut. 

The picture, herewith, represents the original cabin and a group of thirteen sightseers.  Professor C. C. Firesheets planned to visit this noted place with some of his friends. A picnic was the result. The members consisted of the following: Professor C.C. Fusheets, who was elected chairman and spokesman; Mr. W. D. Stoops, Umalla, Fla,; Miss Ruselin Spiggs, of Chicago, Ill., with W. W. Murphy, of Mt. Jackson, Va.: Miss Amanda Stoops, of Denver, Col., with Mr. Joseph H. Mabine, of Asheville. N. C.; Miss Georgia Daniel, of Mt. Sterling, Ky., with Mr. Eugene Terry, South Boston. Va; Miss Marguretta Daniel, of Mt. Sterling, Ky., with E. T. Beazley, of the News, South Boston, Va.: Miss Myrtle Edwards, of Chester Springs, Va., with Captain Alex. Spiggs, of South Boston, Va. The haunted house was reached at 10 A.M. At noon. dinner was spread at the old rock spring.  The chaperone made a motion to spend a week, but being put it lost by overwhelming majority. 

The professor then gave a brief sketch of the place for forty-three years. Music, instrumental and vocal, and speech making was the order of the day.

As the shadows of evening began to fall, they left the scene of mystery and the merry party arrived home at 10 P.M. by moonlight.