TWO GHOST STORIES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14250, 22 December 1909, Page 4 (Supplement)

TWO GHOST STORIES.

"THE LUMINOUS CHAMBER" AND "THE SHUDDER. - ' The following remarkable stories were communicated nearly forty years ago to that organ of serious inquiry and approved fact, " Notes and Queries," by a Mr. T. Westwood : —ln the year 1840 I was detained for several months in the sleepy old town of Taunton. My chief associate during that time was a fox-hunting squire—a bluff, hearty, genial type of his order, with just sufficient intellectuality to temper his animal exuberance. Many were our merry rides among the thorpes and hamlets of pleasant Somersetshire ; and it was in one of these excursions, while the evening sky was like molten copper, and a fiery March wind coursed, like a racehorse, over the open downs, that he related to me the story of what Le called his Luminous Chamber. Coming back from the hunt, after dark, ho said he had frequently observed a central window, in an old hall not far from the roadside, illuminated. All the other windows were dark, but from this one a wan, dreary light was visible; and as the owners had deserted the place, and he knew it had no occupant, the lighted window became a puzzle to him. lAIXTNESS AND MYSTERY. On one occasion, having a brother squire with him, and both carrying a good store of port wine under their girdles, they declared they would solve the mystery of the Luminous Chamber then and there. The lodge was still tenanted by an aged porter him they roused up, and after some delay, having obtained a lantern and tho keys of the hall, they ;proceeded to make their entry. Before opening the.great door, however, my squire averred he had made careful inspection of the front of the house, from the lawn. Sure enough, the central window was illuminated—an eerie, forlorn-looking light made it stand out in contrast to the rest dismal light, that seemed to have nothing in common with the world or the life that. is. The two squires visited all the other rooms, leaving the luminous room till the last. There . was nothing noticeable in any of them : they were totally obscure. But on entering the luminous room a marked change 'was perceptible. , The light in it was not full, but sufficiently so ■ beneath them, to distinguish , its various articles of furniture, which were common and scanty enough. What struck them most was the uniform diffusion of the light; it was as strong under the table as on the table, so that no single object projected any shadow on the door, nor did they themselves project any shadow. Looking into a great mirror over the mantelpiece, nothing could be weirder, the squire declared,, than the reflection in it t)f the dim, wan-lighted chamber,- and of the two awe-stricken faces that glared on them from the midst—his own and his companion's. He told,me, too, that he had not been many seconds in the room before a sick faintness stole over him, a feeling—such was his expression, I remember—as if his life were being sucked out of him. .. His friend owned afterwards to a similar sensation. The upshot of it was that both squires decamped, crestfallen, and made no further attempt at solving the mystery. "the shudder." . The only other occasion on which I came directly and personally under ghostly influences, or what appeared to be such, was the following: — In a lonely neighbourhood, on the verge of Enfield Chace, stands an old house, much beaten by wind and weather. . It was inhabited, when I knew it, by two elderly people, maiden sisters, with whom I had some acquaintance, and who once invited me to dine with them and meet a circle of local guests. I well remember my walk thither. It led me up a steep ascent of oak avenue, opening out at the top on wnat was called the " ridge-road" of the Chace. It was the close of a splendid autumn afternoon. . . - . ; The year was dying with more than its wonted pomp, " wrapping itself in its gorgeous robes/ like a grander Caesar," ■ *On reaching my destination the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and the eastern front of the house projected a black shadow at its foot. What was there in the aspect of the pile that reminded me of the ' corpse described by the poet—the corpse that. Was calm and cold, as if it did hold Some secret, glorying. I crossed the threshold with repugnance. Having some changes to make in my attire, a servant led the way to an upper chamber, and left me. No sooner Mas ho gone than I became conscious of a peculiar sound in the room —a sort of shuddering sound, as of suppressed dread. ■J hi; audible hobbob. It seemed close to me. I gave little hood to it at first, setting it down to the wind in the chimney, or a draught from the half open door; but, moving ibout the room. I perceived that the sound moved with me. Whichever way I turned it followed me. I went to the furthest extremity of the chamber— was there also. Beginning to feel uneasy, and being quite unable to account for the singularity. I completed mv toilet in haste, and descended to the drawing-room, hoping I should thus leave tho uncomfortable souud behind —but not so. It was on the landing, on the stair; it went down with me—always the same sound of shuddering horror, faint, but audible, and always close at hand. Even at the dinner-table, when the conversation flogged, I heard it unmistakably several times, and so near that if there were an entity connected with it we were two on one chair. It seemed to be noticed by nobody else, but it ended by harassing and distressing me, and I was relieved to think I had not to sleep in the house that night. At an early hour, several of the guests having far to" go, the party broke up, and it was a satisfaction to me to breathe the fresh, wholesome air of the night, and feel rid at last of my shuddering incubus.