"...we should pass over all biographies of 'the good and the great,' while we search carefully the slight records of wretches who died in prison, in Bedlam, or upon the gallows."
~Edgar Allan Poe

Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com


The 19th century did love its Spring-Heeled Jacks. One lesser-known example of the breed prowled the streets of Broughty Ferry, Scotland early in 1867.  Probably the earliest published report was a letter which appeared in the "Dundee Courier" on February 1st:
Sir,—Our village of Broughty Ferry has been in great state of excitement during this week at the nightly appearance of “Spring Legs." Carnoustie has of late become too hot for him, so he tries his little game on here. If he meets with better success than he met with last night he will find it rather hot work. I would caution every one to carry a pistol with him who has cause to be out at a late hour. If comes in track again he will play at ghosty no more, for certain a bullet goes through his head next time I confront him.

On Tuesday night, about half-past eleven, I was way home, proceeding along Brook Street, when to my great surprise I saw a tall object dressed in white approaching in my direction. Its pace was very rapid, and it seemed to move in a series of leaps highly fantastic and unnatural. For moment my senses had deceived me, and my first instinct was to run; but drawn forward by an influence I could not overcome, similar to that experienced by birds when brought under the gaze of serpents, found myself within fifty paces of it when all of sudden I heard a clattering noise resembling the emptying of a basket of wooden clothes pins, accompanied by a devilish "chick, chick," amidst which the nocturnal "Spring Legs” vanished up a close.

Determined to find out the cause of all this I proceeded by the back of Urquhart Foundry and into a neighbouring garden, where sure enough there sat "Spring Legs" busily at work under a gooseberry bush attempting to wrap a piece of twine round the broken leg of some sort of carte de visite stand. Thought I we'll see who moves out of here first. Spring Legs now rose and placed his apparatus opposite a window the blinds of which were drawn up. A cold shudder ran through me as he proceeded to draw from his breast pocket an article resembling a carving knife, but which turned out be a candle. He immediately struck a match and applied a light, encasing the candle in a small box placed the top of the three-legged stand. It was comforting amidst the surrounding death-like silence to hear the sharp scratch of the match, which in ordinary circumstances would go unheeded, but which at that moment afforded the same sense of feeling which a living object, such as a cat or a dog, would give in a house disturbed by some casual circumstances outside. From that moment I saw he was no devil no ghost, no nothing but an ordinary human being, maybe possessed of the devil, but without a devil’s tail or the ability of lighting the candle by spitting fire. At this moment I let fly a large brick at his machine, and immediately took to my heels, but on looking back I found myself hotly pursued. I ran in the direction of Stewart’s Nursery, and found by the time I was within near approach of that place that Spring Legs was gaining fast upon me. I was too excited to cry for help, and. rushing into the nursery, I seized hold of a flower-pot, and by a well-directed aim laid poor "Spring Legs” low just as he was entering the grounds. His moanings were dreadful, and at that moment I felt as a murderer would feel, but suddenly he gave over meaning, and a sort of gurgling sound in his throat made me believe he was dead. 1 undid his ghastly apparel, made of a sort of rubber, and a found young man of goodly proportions. His nose bled profusely, and the blood mixing with the hair on his face made him present a strange appearance. I proceeded to alarm the inmates of the nursery, but had not gone above a hundred yards when I received the great shock of all that evening. Guess my surprise to find "Spring Legs" running as fast as his legs would carry him towards the north of the grounds, crying “Chick, chick.”

I felt in no humour to follow him up. The fellow had evidently shammed death. Without disturbing anybody I left for the scene of our first meeting, and found a candle burning inside a turnip, with holes cut out in front resembling a devil’s head, such as boys use on Hallowe’en. The man’s intention, I suppose, was to knock at the window and frighten the inmates inside, although what pleasure he could nave in doing this, or in running about as I found him, seems a mystery.—l am, &c., Broughty Castle.

I'm not sure who came out looking stranger in that encounter, "Spring Legs," or "Broughty," but never mind.

Several other reports of Mr. Legs were recorded in the “Courier” at around this time. In April, a correspondent reported that “his springship” was now busily annoying the good people of Alyth. After that, he appears to have vanished from view.

2 comments:

  1. Yes, the encounter seems to have been a weird one due to both participants. I like the large brick thrown at the machine. I guess the thing to do with spirits is to break their contraptions then run like mad...

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