SPOOK SHIVERS.

Northern Advocate, 19 December 1919, Page 7

SPOOK SHIVERS.

SOME CHRISTMAS CREEPS,

OLD-TIME APPARITIONS,

We are a queer people. We talk a great deal about peace and goodwill at Christmas, and most of us do really try to be happy and to make other folk happy too. And one of the most popular ways of speeding merriment is to curdle the blood of all and sundry with stories of spooks.

Story-telling around the Christmas fire is largely taken up by ghost tales that it would seem the easiest thing in the world to remember a few typical yarns of apparitions which supposedly appear at Yuletide. Yet it is by no means easy. Christmas is the season of ghost stories but not of ghosts. Tho latter allow their reputation to do service, and for themselves they take a rest. They do not walk. At least very few of them do. It would almost seem that there is more than a pretty theory in Shakespear's lines, "that ever 'gainst this hallowed season, at which our Saviour's birth is celebrated ... no spirit walks abroad ... so gracious and so hallowed is the time.'' Yet there are a few ghosts of whom stories of Yuletide appearance are told and hereby the raconteurs round the Christmas fire are justified, even though most of their harrowing recitals of manacled spooks clanking along dark secret passages, of pathetically weird phantoms of ladies who were foully done to death in the dim and distant past, are usually to be associated with other periods of the year. WEIRD REVELS.

The supernatural manifestations at Knighton Gorges, in the Isle of Wight, at Yuletide have caused considerable interest among occultists. A lady who visited the place with a friend interestingly has described their experiences giving that friend's view and not merely her own. At a place where once there had been a house they saw the phantom building again as it was long ago. '' She was spellbound at the sight of a man's form standing at one of the windows dressed in eighteenth century costume, black small clothes, frilled shirt, white silk stockings, and his dark hair tied back with a black ribbon. We both heard cheering and clapping of hands." Later on one of the ladies heard a rich tenor voice lustily singing,'' God rest you, merrie gentlemen," and the chorus taken up by tho whole party. More than that. The field was seen to be aglow with light apparently reflected from the windows of tho house the deep baying of dogs was heard, as well as the more piercing yapping of smaller dogs, the confused murmur of voices, the music of flute and violin, the sounds of greeting as guests arrived and so forth. All this on the site of a famous place where a few stones and a gatepost or two remain as the relics of a mansion where Davy Garrick, John Wilkes, and other wits of the period were entertained many, many years ago. The house was completely demolished to carry into fulfilment the former owner's oath that his nephew and heir, who had displeased him, should never enter his dwelling. THE BANSHEE. The Banshee is a typical Christmas visitant, at any rate in theory, although here again most of her warning screams have no reference to Christmas. The Banshee you know is the property of numerous Irish families, whose members on hearing her wail, become thus possessed of the comforting knowledge that some close relative is about to die. A Banshee once absolutely ruined Christmas festivities at i a castle in the south of Ireland. Everything had been going well, and the party, under the mellowing influence of the season and the fare provided, were merry and hospitable. Thus, when a carriage and four came spanking along and stopped at the door of the mansion, the guests assembled, trooped out with the host to give a hearty welcome to the newcomers, whoever they might be. And they had the curious experience of trying to shake hands with persons who weren't there. The horses, carriage and occupants faded into thin air in about twenty seconds. And the real, substantial merrymakers looked at one another in consternation, wondering which of them was next for the ghost world. Strictly speaking, of course, this is not a Banshee story, but the guests accepted the visitation just as a Banshee warning, and they held to their story despite the humorous remarks of sceptics who averred that there are spirits—and spirits. Quite Irish spirits, ' you know.

Another Irish Christmas ghost story may be quoted. It is one having its counterpart in many countries where ■Roman Catholicism prevails. It has its origin in the alleged fact that a priest who once dared to celebrate mass without haying another person present to make the responses died that same Christmas Eve. His punishment for daring to infringe the sacred rules of j the service was that his spirit should have no rest until at midnight on some future Christmas some real living person should be present in the very edifice where the offence was committed, to serve the Mass. And so, for hundreds of years, that priest's spirit fulfilled the penance. Never was there man in the abbey at midnight on Christmas Eve. In the course of the centuries the edifice fell like so many others of its kind into ruin. Its walls remained in parts; there were outlines of windows; a few of the pillars and arches. Then one night, a belated traveller, who had lost his way, ventured into the ruins in search of such shelter as they might afford. It was Christmas Eve, and he was far from the ordinary habitations of man. He felt that the place was a trifle eerie, but he had no alternative but to remain through the hours of darkness. Ho regarded the remains of what had been a noble building, and let his imagination go to work in reconstructing the venerable pile. The arches went so; the windows were designed in this manner; the choir was there; the chancel—but what was this? , had his imagination turned to reality? Why, there was the altar quite: Plaial

above, where there had been a clear view to tho stars, there was the roof. The Abbey was complete again. And there, at the altar, was a priest bearing the chalice. "Who will serve my Mass?" cried the priest. Scarce knowing what he did, the traveller served, and the Mass was duly celebrated in fitting order. Thus was the penance, completely fulfilled, and immediately the traveller saw, not the Abbey in its original grandeur, but as the ruins he had found it an hour or two earlier. GHOSTS IN ADVANCE. In certain circumstances people in various parts of Scandinavia believed that they could see spirits even before they had been disembodied. This was xk, Yuletide pastime. The idea was that a person who dared at Christmas time to go into the woods just before dawn would sec the phantom funeral processions of local persons who were to die during the year to come. Conditions were attached to his privilege. One was that not the very slightest noise must be made by .the seeker after knowledge of lugubrious events to come, and another was that for some days he must have fasted —no slight matter at Yuletide in Sweden. Sometimes, it is stated, the inquisitive individual would see his own prospective funeral procession, and ho would return from his vigil with appetite completely spoiled, even although he had fasted for some time. Serve him right!

Similarly entertaining is Danish Christmas spook lore. On Christmas Eve the family, of course, gathered round the festive board, and the idea was that the person who wished to pry into the future would go round the house and peep at the assembly through the window. This was not to frighten the family, but to obtain information. For if the looker-on saw any member of the family sitting there without a ■head, it was certain that that person would die before Christmas came round again. How tho identity of the headless person was established, record showeth not. Nor is it stated what happened to the seer if ho ventured into the family circle and informed those present, in order to add to their Christmas enjoyment of what he had observed.