"GHOST GLEN."

Star (Christchurch), Issue 362, 12 July 1869, Page 3

"GHOST GLEN."

(From the Australasian.) " Ghost Glen " — or the place that used to be called by that name — lies about eleven miles south of Kiama, in N. S. Wales. From a matter of -fact point of view, it is simply a great scoop of land hearily timbered, dipping from the Illavrarra mountains into the sea ; but, taking for truth the statements of a local poetical legend, it is something more. According to certain old Irish farmers residing at a respectful distance from the spot, it has been the nightly haunt of two spectre sawyers for the last forty years. To quote some verses, the inhabitants allege that — " Over a pitfall the moon-dew is thawing, And, with never a body, two shadows stand sawing The wraiths of two sawyers (step under and under) Who did a foul murder, and were blackened with thunder. " And whenover a storm-wind conies driven and driving, Through the blood-spattered timber you may see the saw striving — You may see the saw heaving, and falling, and heaving, Whenever the sea creek is chafing and grieving ! " In prose, this would amount to an assertion that a visit by night to the " Glen " in stormy weather is not exactly the sort of exercise to steady a man"s nerves. The other features of the spectral picture are the " sprite of a sheep-dog," and a "burnt" humau body changed by fire into the colour of an adder. As the legend of " Ghost Glen," like that of " Fisher's Ghost," used to be a popular fire-

side topic amongst the old hands of Australia, and as it has travelled to England, the present writer assumes that it will intei'est the readers of The Australasian. j As far back as the year 1820, the Illawarra bush, especially that portion of it extending from Dapto to the northern boundaries of t'.ie Shoalhaven district, was frequented by cedar-cutters, or, to use the common term, sawyers. At that time these men were the true pioneers of European civilisation. Lonfj before the farmer or grazier had set foot in those wi'.ds — years prior to the novelty of '•' clearing off " and "fencing iv" — the tent, of the sawyer was a familiar object to the local blacks. With but few exceptions, the earlier cedar-cutters were convicts out on " ticket-of-!eave," and employed by timber speculators and others. It may be guessed from the foregoing tliat the word " civilisation '■' requires some qualification in the present instance. Many of the blackestdyed ruffians of their time were to be found in the ranks of the Illawara sawyers. If: rocks aud trees could have spoken, they might have been able to tell tales " O'er-topping the very front and head of horror." But the few cases of crime that came to light independent of supernatural agency were diabolical enough to shock even the not over-sensitive colonial society of those days. For instance, the murder which gave birth to the legend of " Ghost Glen," was, in plot and perpetration, of a most Satanic character. A young immigrant —a new chum, in fact — stayed a night at the small settlement of Kiama on his way to Berry's station at Shoalhaveu. He had some money about him, of which he made a too frequent display. Most likely he was excited by drink — a suppositiou that is strengthened by the story that his Kiama host sold grog on the sly. A great brindled sheep-dog accompanied him. Two men— characters with the brand of the ruffian on their faces — drank spirits at his expense ; plied him with conversation in which the word ■' mate" was prominent ; and finally started away with him ostensibly to guide him to his destination by a short cut. The unfortunate traveller never turned up again. His companions, who were known to be sawyers of the worst class, and whose camp was supposed to be iv the neighbourhood of Kiama, suddenly disappeared from the district. They left no clue to point to their whereabouts, nor does it appear that they were ever traced out. But some months after their hasty departure one of Berry's assigned servants lost his way iv the bush, near the present site of Gerringong, and during the time camped for two nights in an isolated glen close to a narrow sea-creek. From his statement of what he heard and saw there originated the legend forming the subject of this sketch. The man was lost for several days. A little tobacco, a pipe, and a flint and steel were the only things he had about him. Consequently, when he was picked up —he was found on the fourth or fifth day — he was half-starved. The delirium of hunger may have been the cause of the apparition by Avhich he swore he was visited on the second aud third nights of his stay iv the bush. The startling fact, however, that the burnt bones of a human being were subsequently found in the glen described by him gave weight to his story, and elevated the whole thing into a popular tradition. Of course, the present writer does not pretend to imply that there was any supernatural feature in the case. The tale circulated by Berry's servant and the discovery of the bones may have formed a mere coincidence — one certainly equalled iv the i marvellous direction by others occurring elsewhere, and furnishing better proofs of their accideutal character. Or it may have happened that, during his temporary insanity, the man came across the human remains. Admitting this to be the true side of the case, the horrible visions of the glen are easily explained. An abnormally excited imagination drew the picture (ghosts and all) from the bare suggestions afforded by a mouldering skeleton. But be that as it may, the servant's story has become "part and parcel " of the ghost-literature of Australia. What he saw, or rather what he professed to have seen, may be described in a very few sentences. The first night of the visions set in rainy. A cold sea-wind was blowing, aud the wanderer had to make a wurley to insure some protection from it. By means of his flint and steel he got up a fire, but of course he was supperless. A quid of tobacco, however, served to allay the pangs of hunger ; and the poor fellow managed in time to get to sleep. How long that slumber lasted he could never tell. Perhaps a couple of hours — perhaps longer. He was awakened by faint sounds like distant gratings of a " cross-cut" saw. At that moment he was tapped on the shoulder. Looking round, he saw a bloody hand and part of an arm thrust up through the grass close to his neck. When he turned the apparition disappeared. The grating noise ceased at the same time. Trembling with cold and fright, he got up and replenished his fire. The light and warmth of the latter were hardly sufficient to restore his nerves to their normal condition. But after a while he inclined to the belief that he had had a vivid nightmare, and towards morning he went off to sleep again. A cry — a distant cry from some human being in agony — startled him out of a confused dream. The grating of the saw was renewed, but this time the sounds .appeared to come from a spot not a hundred yards off. He looked in the indicated direction. He saw — just for a second only — tho faint blurred figures of two men. The feet of one were over the head of the other. The lower shape seemed to be standing in a shallow pit. The other was evidently supported by a platform raised a few feet from the ground. They were sawing, but the saw was invisible. The terrified spectator sprang to his feet, shook himseif to be assured of his wakefulness, and looked again. There was nothing to be seen besides the vague outlines I

o£ the forest. Sleep for the rest of the night was out of the question. He sat in his wurley and waited for the morning. The day broke fine, and continued so, hut the wanderer was too weak to leave the glen. He managed, however, to crawl about half a mile ill the direction of the sea. Here he made choice of another camping-place. He was lucky enough to kill an iguana, which was soon roasted and devoured. As night diuw on a heavy thunderstorm gathered up from the west. It was followed by a gale, which lasted into the middle of the next day. The traveller, not being able to keep up afire, took quarters in a large hollow log. Weariness and cold soon blunted the impressions of the previous night, and the result was a sound slumber. The first apparition came this time in one of the loudest fits of the gale. The sleeper was aroused by a terrific clap of thunder. His opening eyes were met by the appearance of a gashed blood-dabbled face starring at him through the further cavity of the log. About fifty feet from the remains of his fire there was a kind of black heap, over which a dog was apparently lying. The voices of men and the loud noise of a saw in full work were hearp in the first pause of the wind. A slight movement on the part of the spectator caused face, dog, and heap to disappear. But the sawing and talking continued. Almost crazed with terror, the man got up aud went out into the rain. He was greeted by a demoniac laugh and the pelting of a pitiless shower. But the supernatural sounds immediately cea-ed. The last apparition found him lying in a vague state, half-way between sleep aud a fear-strickeu wakef uluess. A gurgling voice, the voice of a man in intense agon}', said to him, " For God's sake, tell the Sydney people o£ this !" A doubled-up body, a mashed moaning body, lay at the opening of the log • a great-limbed but wasted sheep-dog licked the dead battered face; distinct in the darkness there appeared a sawpit — logs, cross-pieces, and all. Two sawyers — huge rough-bearded men— were working in a ring of ghastly light. To the rigat of the pit lay the smouldering remains of a camp fire. Diabolical curses, mingled with shrieks, seemed to come from every quarter of the compass. The terrified traveller remained motionless. In one of the breaks of the storm he heard a man say, " Take the money — take everything, but let me go." A savage reply was broken short by a sudden burst of thunder. The dog howled piteously in the darkness. Then a coarse cursing voice Bhouled out, " Let's pitch the on the fire, and cut the — cur's throat." A second of silence was followed by a piercing yell and a vivid flash of lightning. The pit and its occupants disappeared as if by magic. Dog and body were not to be seen. The only noises abroad were those of the gale. But just before daybreak a dead, waxy face appeared at the opening of the log. The lips moved and whispered faintly. The first words were indistinct, but the listener caught the most of the rest. They were these :— " I did my best, but Louey will never know it. They have slaughtered poor old Ni-p, too. That cursed sawpit. Write to Sydney, Louey." The traveller moved his arm, and the apparition vanished. This was the last of the alleged supernatural appearances. A search party from Berry's station fell in with the lost servant on the fourth or fifth day of his wanderings. He was very much exhausted, but he appeared to be sane. Nothing indicative of delirium could be discovered in liis conversation or manner. Want of food and shelter had made him weak and nervous, but no other effects were evident. His story was toldina clear, consecutive way, and all his later versions of it agreed iv detail with the first. The present writer has already pointed out its subsequent popularity with a certain class of people living in the locality of the " Glen." They assert that the awful spectacle witnessed by Berry's servant is to be seen at intervals during every stormy night. They swear that the grating of the spectral saw is often distinctly heard by the neighbouring farmers. But it must be confessed that the foregoing assertions are confined to the old Irish inhabitants of the district. No doubt they have imported with them that spirit of superstition which is peculiar to the Celt. Half the ghost stories amalgamated with the early traditions of the colonies might be traced to one common cause. As hereinbefore stated, there is nothing to show that the murderers of the Kiama traveller were ever traced. But Pat M'Anally, an old shingle-splitter, who lived at Bulli, near Wollongong, used to tell a story somewhat startling in its character. Thirty years ago he had a mate who went by the name of Jem Hicks. Jem was a " lifer "of the worst class. According to M'Anally's statement, he was iv the best of his moods a surly ruffian. " Black Jem" was no favourite with the settlera ; but being a good hand, he was tolerated for the sake of his skill. So in time he went into a rough form of partnership with M'Anally, and took up his abode in the latter's hut. These men were in the habit of sleeping in different berths in the one room. Jem, whose habitual taciturnity appeared to arise from a morose disposition, was hardly a suitable companion for his lively Irish partner. But they managed to " hit it " together till a certain night of tempestuous weather set in. One of the wildest gales ever known in Illawarra came on at this time. Jem, who could never sleep well in stormy periods, was peculiarly restless now. His face assumed a weary 100k — the look of one hunted. '1 he wind moaned bitterly through the slabs of the hut. Thun-der-cloud after thunder-cloud fleeted across the sky. Every now and then M'Anally's mate cast a furtive glance in the direction of the door. He appeared as if he expected somebody. M'Anally, growing uneasy, essayed to engage him in conversation. " Fine night for a ghost, eh, Jem? " Jem remained silent.. " This reminds me," continued Pat, " of that yarn about the haunted sawpit at Gerringong." ' His companion turned sharply

round, as if he had been bitten by something, and faced him. " What's up, mate ? " asked Pat. " You hold yer gab about that ere Gerringong affair — d'ye hear ? Pity we hadn't you there." "What do ye mean ?" inquired M'Anally, rising. The other sat back and said nothing. For some time both men were silent — Pat coming finally to the conclusion that his mate had been drinking. " Jem," he said, " sorry that I got my shirt up; perhaps, as you look whitish, there is something wrong with the liver." The apology was interrupted by a deafening clap of thunder. Black Jem stepped sharply across the room, muttering to himself. The door flew open, and the wind rushed in with a yell like the howl of a dog. " Curse the money," shouted Hicks. " Curse the dog. Will a fellow never get peace ? Hold your infernal gab, mate, anent that Gerringong business. You're not going to pump me." " Why, you black-faced hound," cried Pat, starting from his bunk, " You are one of them, are you ? You shall not leave this hut unbound !" Hicks picked up a junk of firewood, flung it at M'Anally, and rushed out into the darkness. He was never heard of again.

The facetious Joe Hall (the original Lockit in " The Beggar's Opera"), in the year 1730, when the scene-room at Covent Garden was on fire, and the audience greatly alarmed, was ordered by Rich, the manager, to run on the stage and explain the matter, which honest Joe did in the following extraordinary address : — *' Ladies and gentlemen, for heaven's sake don't be frightened — don't stir — keep your seats — the fire is almost extinguished ; but if it was not, we have a reservoir of one hundred hogßheads of water over your heads that would drown you all in a few minutes." I Exit Joe.] Mr Palgrave, one of the ablest officials in the House of Commono, has been lecturing about the House in an amusing way, and has republished his lectures in a handsome little volume. Some of the anecdotes are very curious. On May 14, 1606, we are told "a dog came in. A strauge spanyell of mouse colour came into the House of Commons." 1 70 years afterwards another dog came in and took his seat in the House before the Speaker, the Prime Minister, and all the representatives of Great Britain. Not con* tent with silence, the cur took part in the debate and barked loudly. "Sir," said Lord North, addressing the Speaker, "I am interrupted by a new member." The dog did not take the hint, but barked again. " Sir," again remarked his Lordship, •• the new member has no right to speak twice in one debate."

•• arid Saturday, at 10.15 a.m. ; arrives on Monday,.Wednesday, and Saturday, at 3.30 p.m. Geealdine — Closes on Wednesday nnd Friday, at 6 p.m. ; arrives on Monday and Wednesday, | at 7.30 p.m. Geeman Eat — Closes on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 7.30 a.m.; arrives on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 9.45 a.m. Governor s Bay — Closes on Wednesday and Saturday, at 7.30 a.m. ; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday at 4.15 p.m. GEET3IOUTH (Westlund) — Closes on Monday and Thursday, at 6 p.m.; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday, at 4.30 p.m. Halswkll — Closes on Wednesdny and Saturday at 2.30 pm ; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday, at 10.30 a.m. IIaWKSWOOD — Closes on Monday, at S a.vi. arrives on Thursday, at 4.45 p.m. Heatiicote Yallky — Closes daily at 9.30 a.m. t arrives daily at 4.15 p.m. Hokitika (YWstland) — Closes on Monday and j Thursday, at 6 p.m. ; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday, at 4.30 p.m. Hokokata — Closes on Monday, at G p.m. : arrives on Wednesday, at 7.30 p in. "ELvrustji — Closes on Monday, Wednesday, r.nd Friday, at 8 a.m. ; arrives on Tuesday, Thursday, nnd Saturday, at 4.45 p.m. lewell — Closes on Tuesday, Thursday, und Saturday, at 2 p.m.; arrives on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 11.30 a.m. Kaiapoi — Closes daily, i-.t 8 a.m.; arrives daily, at 4.45 p.m. Kowai — Closes daily, at 8 a.m.; arrives daily, at 4.45 p.m. EoVvai Pass — Closes on Mondny and Thursday at G p.m.; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday at 4.30 p.m. Lack Tekapo — Closes on Friday, at 6 p.m. arrives on Wednesday, at 7.30 p.m. Leeston— Closes on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 2 p.m ar.-ives on Mondny, Wednesday, nnd Friday, at 11.30 a.m. Le Bok's Bay — Closes on Tuesday, at 7.30 a.m.; arrives on Friday, at. 9.45 a.m. Little Akaloa — Closes on Tuesday, at 7.30 a.m. ; arrives on Wednesday, at 0.45 a.m. Lyttelton — Closes daily, at 7.30 a in. and 2 p.m. ; arrives daily, at 9.45 a.m. and 4.15 p.m. Likcoi.it — Closes on Saturday, at 2.30 p.m. iiriives on Saturday, at 10.30 a.m. Little Hives. — Closes on Saturday, at 7.30 a.m. r.rrivea on Wednesday, at 4.15 p.m. Walvbun — Closes on Monday and Thursday, at G p.m.; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday, at 4.30 p.m. Moeraki Dowxs — Closes on Wednesday and Saturday, at 8 a.m. ; arrives on Tuesday and Friday /at 4..10 p.m. JSevt Town — Closes daily, at 9.45 n.m. ; arrives daily, at 11 a.m. Okaik's Bay — Closes on Tuesday, at 7.30 a.m. arrives on Wednesday, at 5.45 a.m. Ohinitahi — Closes on Wednesday and Saturday, at 7.30 a.m. ; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday, at 4.15 p.m. On. a in — Closes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 6 p.m.; arrived on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 7.30 p.m. Oxfohd — Closes on Wednesdny and Saturday, at 8 a.m ; arrivea on Tuesday and Friday, at 4.45 p.m. Papanci — Closes daily, at 8 a.m. ; arrive daily at 4.45 p.m. Pleasant Pomt — Closes on Fridi y, n 6 p.m. arrives on Wednesday, «t 7.30 p.m. Pigeon Bay — Closes on Tuesc«ny, Thursday, and Saturday, at 7.30 a.m. ; arrives on Monday Wednesday, and Friday, at 0.45 a.m. Port Levy — Closes on Saturday, at 7.30 a.m. arrives on Monday, at 4.15 p m. Pobtek's Pass — Closes on Momlny and Thursday, at G p.m ; arrives on Wednesday and Saturday, at 4.30 p.m. Prebblkton — Closes on Tuesday, Thursday, nnn Saturday, at 2 p.m. ; arrives on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 11.30 n.m. Rangioea — Closes daily, at 8 a.m.; arrives daily, at 4.45 p.m. Hangitata, Upper — Closes on Wednesday and Friday, at G p.m ; arrives on Monday and j Wednesday, at 7.30 p.m. Ran gitata," Lower— Closes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at G p.m.; arrives on Monday and Wednesday, at 7.30 p.m. Riccarton — Cooes dai y, at 9.45 a.m.; arrives daily, at 11 a.m. Robinson's Bay — Closes on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 7.30 a.m.; arrives on Mondny, "Wednesday, and Friday, at 9.45 a.m. Rolleston — Closes daily, at 11 a.m. ; arrive? daily, at 7.H0 a.m. I St. Ai.bans — Closes daily, at 9.45 a.m. ; arrive? daily, at 11 a.m. Saltwater Crkek — Closes daily, at 8 a.m. ; arrives daily, at 4.45 p.m. Selwyn — Closes daily, at 11a.m.; arrives daily at 7.30 p.m. Snowdon — Closes on Monday, at G p.m. ; arrives on Wednesday, at 7.30 p.m. Southbridge — Closes on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 2 p.m.; arrives on Monday, "Wednesday, and Friday, nt 11.30 a.m. Spreydon — Closes on Wednesday and Saturday, at 2.30 p.m.; arrives on Wednesdny, at 10.30 a.m. SPRINGBTON — Closes on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 2 p.m.; arrives on Monday,' Wednesday, nnd Friday, at 11.30 a.m. Tai-Tapu — Closes on Wednesday and Saturday, at 2.30 p.m. ; arrives on Wednesday, at 10.;i0 a.m. Temuka — Closes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at G p.m.; arrives on Mondny, Wednesday, and Friday, at 7.30 p.m. Templkton— Closes daily, at 11 am.; arrives daily, at 7.30 p.m. Timaru — Closes on Monday, Wednosdny, nnd Friday, at G rt.va. ; arrives on Monday, Wednesday, nnd Friday, at 7.30 p.m. Taipo — Closc3 on .Mondny and Thursday, at 6 pin. ; arrives on Wednesdny and Saturday, at 4.30 p.m. Waiau — Closes on Monday, at 8 a.m. ; arrives on Thursday, nt 4.45 p.m. Waih Crossing— Closes on Monday, Wednesdny, «.nd Friday, at 6 p.m. ; arrives on Monday. 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