HOUSES OF DREAD

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume XLV, Issue 2930, 27 October 1925, Page 3

HOUSES OF DREAD

LONG LEFT TBNANTLESS.

SCENES OF PAST TRAGEDY. '\

It is astonishing—when there is such a scramble for a place in which to lay one's head—how many good houses are standing empty because people are afraid to live in them.

In a much.-favoured quarter of London is a handsome block of mansion flats. They are elaborately appointed, the address is good, the neighbourhood select, the rents reasonable. Yet for over a year one of these flats has been vaca,nt —and .nobody will take it* People look over it, they like it, and decide that here is the very home for which they have been seeking. ; . . . And then, sooner or later, they recall or are reminded of a certain terrible, and notorious tragedy* and they say: "Oh, but isn't this the flat where that ghastly murder was committed?' .... ... Ugh! Fancy having to sleep in the very room! . ... No thanks.'' ' When houses were plentiful and rents wore low a "Birmingham landlord let a villa much below its re^al rental to 'elderly -couple in straightened circum"tstances^—hot out of pure chanty, ■ but because'he 'considered it better to have the place occupied at a loss rather than stand empty. Being a cautious business ma,u, he made his tenants sign an agreement to vacate at short notice whenever he might find somebody willing to take the house at its usual rent. ,When he did at last i-equire possession, he reminded the old couple of what they had undertaken to do. They were perfectly reasonable—or seemed to be. But the prospective new tenant backed out at the last moment, and they were, allowed to remain. In course of time the landlord found another person apparently anxious to take the house —but again the negotiations were abruptly broken off. Similar hitches occurred several times until at last a lady who had been most enthusiastic about the place explained that she was . v —.', but she could not live in a haunted house* "Haunted!" exclaimed the amazed landlord. "Who has been telling you that?"' "The old people who live there," said the lady. "They say that ma,ny years ago a man cut his wife's throat there, : and that her ghost has roamed-through ■ the rooms ever since, uttering the most I blood-curdling cries and slamming the. I doors:" |' ' Rubbish!'' said the landlord. '' It 'a I been in my family ever since it was • built. If there had bee,n a murder' : there I should know." ; "They showed me bloodstains on the • floor where the poor woman was kil- : led," said the lady. "No amount of : scrubbing will remove them I : couldn't live in a house like that." . : The landlord went tfl see the old cou- ; pie. They confessed they had invented ; the grisly story, because they did not : wish .to be turned out. They had also invented the bloodstains-r-with a solution* of permanganate'of potash. 'They had to go quickly then. But the story-spread —and to, this day some of the locals firmly believe tha,t a murder did take place there, a.nd that the victim still haunts the tragic scene. In Suffolk village there is a, very old, but still good and substantial, house i,n which nobody who knows the history there was ploughing an adjacent field, would live, even if they could do so i rent free. This is the story: ■-, In the long ago the farmer who lived , But the ground was so hard that the horses could scarcely drag the plough. He swore horribly at the poor animals , and at last exclaimed: "I defy the Old Devil himself to plough with lazy beasts like you. If he can, let him come and do it—and he can have me." "That's a bargain," said a strange voice beside him, "I've been waiting my chance to get you." Thema,n sank to his knees and cried for mercy, pleading wildly for another chance. For there Was the Evil Onehorns and all. " I '11 give you a chance,'' agreed Satan. "If you can-reach home before ' I have finished ploughing your field I will let you off." s The man took to his heels a,nd ran for home. But just as he Avas .entering his own door Satan overtook him and caught him by the heel. 7 Now —the story goes—every night the farmer's fearful cries can be heard and , the sounds of a terrible struggle. You t will meet man and women in that lonely

<0' . viJlage who will solemnly assure you that they themselves have heard those unearthly shrieks from a distance —but you would not get one of them to approach the house after dark. We may smile if we will. We may believe that the weird cries are those of owls, the scuffling sounds made by rats. But it is an uncontr.overtible fact that several sceptical persons have from , time to time taken the Devil's Farm in i the last twenty years—and not one has found courage to remain in the uncanny place a week. Ajid there are in this country more of these Houses of Dread than may be believed.