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.