Author Topic: Unexplained Experiences  (Read 1395 times)

Offline Headless2

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #45 on: June 11, 2022, 01:00:05 AM »

At one time a mail ran down the creek from Windorah to Mt Howard. It was in those days a four horse mail and passed in through Keeroongooloo Station via Keeroongooloo outstation and then on to Mt Howard, where it went then does not matter. At the outstation of Keeroongooloo it is stated a tragedy occurred one night when the four grey horses attached to the coach bolted and disappeared over the channel bank into a deep waterhole and were drowned and all on board with them.

The reasons given to day for the incident are colourful and diversified and each person telling the story has his own theory about the whole matter. However the point that I want to reach is the fact that there are hundreds of men who have travelled the back of beyond country who maintain that the old camp is haunted and a once favourite camping ground conveniently situited between two main stations, has been shunned for years and rarely will any one be found camping there unless it be a stranger and these men come away with some peculiar stories of what they have heard in the night. These stories are not engendered by any help from Western rum, because the camp is far away from any source of supplies, and long before any boozer got to the camp the effects of a
spree would have worn off, so that there is some other agency at work.

Jerry O'Dowd had camped at the spot one night, or at least he had camped part of the night at the old place. Jerry had not heard the stories of the haunted hut, so that what he experienced was unthought of. Jerry had traversed nearly every beat of the far West, camping in the lonely spots for months on end, and had never had the slightest experience of supernatural visitations before; and it remained for him to gain some experience at the Keeroongooloo outstation that lasted him for many a year.

It was a dark night and far away to the westward a big storm was raging, and it caused a kind of eerie feeling for Jerry; and apart from the storm, the mournful howl of hungry "dingoes" in all directions was sufficient to make
the feeling worse. Jerry had at last got to sleep, but it was not long before he became awakened by the sound of hoof beats and the rattle of wheels, swingle bars, and chains, just the same as would be caused by a team of horses in full gallop.

Out he comes, and he swears to this day that he saw four white horses and a light coach go galloping by, and disappear over the bank of the channel. Jerry never stopped to find out the result; his swag was thrown together, horses were caught, and Jerry struck for Mt. Howard at full gallop, nor did he camp any more till he reached Mt Howard station.

There are other men who have camped at the old outstation who swear that they have heard the rattle of the coach and the hoof beats, and there are men living to-day on stations beyond the Cooper who will tell you that these are nightly happenings. How the hallucination comes into effect is beyond the comprehension of anybody. There is no possibility of a practical joke being played, and there is no one in the vicinity to play it. Horses become restless when they reach the spot, and are inclined to hasten onwards. Jerry O'Dowd's dog whined and trotted about the fire after sundown.

Published by The Brisbane Courier Qld Mon 13 Apr 1925

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #46 on: June 11, 2022, 01:16:08 AM »

The spot was a tumbledown dwelling by Sandy Creek, or rather right at what was known as Sandy Crossing.
It had formerly been used as an hotel. A long ramshackle place with a low front verandah, and numerous tumbledown out-buildings. It was on the Great Northern road, which, in those days, practically commenced at Maitland and ran through to the heart of Queensland.

The house stood a couple of hundred yards back from the road, with dense timber growing up to within a few yards of the small paddock and enclosure adjoining the buildings. It was known far and wide as the Haunted House, and was given a wide berth by all travellers who knew the route in those parts. Itinerants who had not heard of it, occasionally sought its shelter for the night; but, without fail, in every instance, they hurriedly quitted it before morning, very often minus half their scanty belongings. They all told the same tale to the settlers down the creek, tales of unearthly noises, of swiftly passing footsteps, and the creaking of the boards all over the place.

The legend of the Haunted House by Sandy Crossing was the mysterious disappearance of a governess who taught the publican's children. She was said to have been a most beautiful young woman, with raven-black hair, an amiable and accomplished lady, and in those surroundings far below her station in life. She had, by some mischance, drifted north to these desolate parts, with the ebb and flow of the human tide.

The publican, in spite of being possessed of a good and dutiful wife, became madly infatuated with her. Pending his passion unreturned, he sought solace in drink, as many men do, and to that extent he made the place a perfect hell; and the quiet governess was forced to give notice of leaving. She retired to her room one night as usual, and was never seen again. The whole country was scoured, and the services of the police requisitioned; but no trace nor tidings were ever found of her.

Gradually after this, strange tales came from travellers who stopped over night at the house. They had been awakened from their slumbers by piercing screams, and the most intense cries of anguish, cries as if from a human being in pain and suffering. The publican had never been the same man since the lady's disappearance. He would sit and brood for days and days, speaking to no one; silent and moody, like one with some terrible weight on his mind. Then he would take to the drink. Finally, to shorten the story, business sank to zero, and he and his family passed out, drifting away, no one knew where. Thus abandoned, the house which had been his own and on freehold land, fell to decay, and in a few years was tumbling down, the shrubs and thistles and the briars smothered its fallen walls.

Often as a boy I had to pass by it coming that way from visits with my people to the settlements farther north; and I was always glad when we were well past it, particularly at night time. Many tales came from the deserted house, but somehow no one ever saw fit to deliberately spend a night there, and find out what really constituted the tale of it being haunted. But, certain it was that the story of the cries and screams and other noises did not alone come from the casual traveller. Never a man working on either the stations above or below the place, who had to pass near it by nightfall, but came in having either heard the most dreadful noises or screams, or seen some strange, silent, moving figure passing from one part of the house to another.

But the most tragic and memorable incident occurred when a pedlar, passing with his pack on his shoulders, was compelled to seek shelter in it out of the blinding storm of the night. He was not aware of the story connected with the place, but he made his bed down in the night. A comparatively young looking man, with brown hair, and when he left it in the morning it was snow white, and he turned up at the station on the south side of the creek a doddering decrepit man (for the time being, anyhow) who looked as if he had viewed some awful sight. He had to be tended and cared for, for a few days, and then sent in to the hospital in the township 20 miles away.

But he told his story before he left the station. He said he went to bed, and had been awakened a little time after, by the most awful shrieks and cries, as of some human being in agony. He sat up in bed, transfixed with deadly fear. He could not move, and the cold perspiration broke out on him. Then he heard movements in some part of the house, as if something were being dragged over the floor a couple of rooms away. The sounds gradually grew fainter and fainter, as if the movements had ceased.

All was silence for one moment, then one prolonged human shriek sent the chill of death to his heart, and he swooned into unconsciousness. He came to his senses in the early dawn, and made out of the place with feeble haste. He did not investigate; his only thought was to get away from his surroundings.

Yet one more incident, a stripling station hand, had to come by the haunted house near dark one night on his way home from searching for some straying stock. Sheer curiosity led him to ride close up to it. We could never get him to say exactly what he saw, but it was a figure of some kind which came towards him in the gloom with arms outstretched, and uttering the faintest of cries. But this was enough for him. He dug the spurs into his horse, and galloped the full six miles to the station without drawing rein, and flung himself from his panting and foam covered horse on to the verandah of the men's hut. He could not speak for a little time. It is a full quarter of a century ago, but I am in a position to record he has never fully recovered from the shock, and probably never will.

All traces of the haunted house are now removed; no vestige remains to mark the spot where it stood; but residents and travellers in those parts yet retail its legend.

Published by The World's News Sydney, NSW  Sat 7 Nov 1908

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #47 on: June 11, 2022, 01:35:51 AM »

This is the true ghost story that comes from a country town in N.S.W.  It is quite frequently that we hear of one or more mysterious happenings in connection with a ghostly visitor, but in this case the manifestations were
numerous and of a most alarming character.

John Sommerlad was a wealthy pastoralist, but distinctly not of the pioneer variety. He had arrived in N.S.W about 50 years ago, and after making a fortune in the agency business in Sydney retired to the splendid Riverina property of Longlands, which he had purchased from an impecunious squatter. Longlands was a fine old property, and the homestead was one of the most up-to-date in the State. It had all the conveniences of a city establishment, and was built amongst beautiful surroundings.

Tiring of country life after a little time, John Sommerlad went on a tour of the world. The collector's instinct which had made a fortune for him when he was in the agency business was still with him. During his tour abroad he developed this flair for collection. Amongst other things he brought back with him on his return to his station home was an old fashioned bedstead of genuine antique which he had paid a big price for in Christie's, London.

A tall old four poster, which dealers had placed as belonging to the Eighteenth century and of a rare variety, probably old Italian. The top of the bed was intricately and elaborately carved with snakes, lizards, and Gargoyles, intertwined with each other in a marvellous way. These figures stood out with life like reality. John had this bed put in a special guest room together with other period furniture to match, which he had picked up whilst abroad. To add to the old world touch he had a suit of armour placed in the room also.

About this time a business friend of Sommerlad’s came up with his family from Sydney to spent a few days at Longlands. And then commenced the most remarkable happenings which are still the talk of the district. The visitor, Carl Blenheim, was not an imaginative man by any means. A German wool buyer, he was noted for his business astuteness and his friends would have laughed had it been suggested that he was a person likely to be addicted to over imagination.

One beautiful summer night he stayed up on the verandah with his host until close on midnight. Then he retired to bed. Just as he was dozing off to sleep he heard a queer sound in the room like a woman's sob. It was pitched in a low key, but seemed to be a very penetrating sound. He rested on his elbow in the big Italian bed, thinking it was some outside noise which he had heard. The sound was repeated exactly as he had heard it before, only this time he was quite sure it had come from the painting on the wall. It was another of John's Art treasures and depicted a beautiful woman of the Medici period.

Springing out of bed, Carl lighted the candle and looked intently at the picture. He ran his finger over the surface. It was a picture, and nothing else. He was about to blow out the candle and get back into bed when a puff of wind from the open window extinguished the candle. Not bothering, to light it again, he turned once more to his bed and stepped back in amazement.

In a sort of luminous light of unearthly brilliance, his bed stood out from the darkness. The elaborately carved headpiece was alive. The snakes, gargoyles, and lizards were winding and twining themselves into all sorts of intricate patterns. The glittering eyes of the lizards seemed like tiny pin points of light, and the gargoyles mouths worked in fantastic fashion.

Remembering the dreams of an absinthe-drinking friend, Blenheim was prone to put this sight down to some trick of the eyesight. Some queer hallucination. He thought of his host's excellent port, but remembered that he had drunk only two glasses.

He approached the bed and touched the moving mass. He drew back terrified. The thing was alive. His hand had come in contact with the cold, scaly body of a serpent moving in the general design. There was no mistake of that. As hurriedly as he could, he found the switch and flooded the room with light. In the brilliance of the electricity, he went carefully over the room and especially the bedtop, but in the light it was just an elaborately carved piece of woodwork, and nothing more. He was intensely surprised and non plussed, but slept no more that night.

He was about to tell his host of the strange happenings of the night when his attention was attracted by another matter. His host's face was drawn and haggard, as if he too had spent a restless night. So he said nothing, and waited. Later in the day Sommerlad, in a casual way, broached the subject. And then it all came out.

Blenheim was not the only one who had been disturbed by a ghostly vistor. Sommerlad had been roused by strange noises during the night, and woke up with a start, to find a beautiful woman bending over him and wringing her hands. She was dressed in old-time costume, the replica of the girl in the picture in Blenheim's room. When he called out she disappeared. They decided to keep matters to themselves in case the news alarmed the womenfolk.

But that afternoon the housekeeper came in to see Sommerlad. She was in a pitiful state of distress. She said the kitchen was haunted. Strange noises were heard during the day. The pots and pans would start jigging on the stove, doors would open and close, and heavy footsteps sound on the floor for no explained reason. The kitchen man had been pelted with coal, and articles had disappeared from the kitchen, to re-appear in some other part of the house. This sort of thing went on for several days. The woman in the house had also been visited by strange apparitions. Almost every one had seen the weeping Medici girl, and had their repose spoilt in other ways.

Blenheim and Sommerlad decided to wait up one night and see if anything happened. They waited in the period room, from whence seemed to emanate all the manifestations. Turning off the light, they waited in the semi darkness. A guttering candle burned near the open window. How long they waited before they fell into a doze they can not say. But they both were awakened by a strange noise in the room. By the dim candle light they saw a strange sight.

The bed-top was literally writhing with life; the strange bed designs had come alive again, and the strange light burned around it. By the sided of the bed stood the girl of the picture. She was wringing her hands and sobbing. They stood terrified at the sight. The appeal in her eyes was not to be misunderstood. Apparently she was in great distress. She pointed dramatically to the bed, and then to the candle, and made other motions which they understood her to mean that the bed should be burnt. Then she disappeared.

The next morning the two men took the bed out into the paddock, and, covering it over with petrol, set a light to it. It burned and crackled fiercely, and, as the flames leapt over the ornamented bed-top, the watchers fancied they could see strange lizards and serpents interlacing through the design as the flames reduced them to ashes. There were no more strange happenings at Longlands. The repose of the visitors was no longer disturbed by ghostly visitors.

Looking back over the incidents, the party mostly concerned, John Sommerlad, often wondered what strange course he brought back with him in the old Italian bedstead, and what connection the girl of the Medici picture had with its strange history.

Published by Sunday Times Sydney, NSW Sun 18 Mar 1928


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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #48 on: June 11, 2022, 12:35:13 PM »
Hello Headless some great stuff. Some I have not heard off some I already posted.

The Huskison story was interesting. about 20 years my friend was visiting his father at falls creek near Huskisson . His father had a property there. there was big bushfire he and dad and uncle remained to fight the fire. As the fire came towards them roaring like a jet engine as it suck air into the flame. Kangaroos snakes rabbits foxes came fleeing through the smoke across the property fleeing the fire in panic. Well out of the smoke a camel came running out and ran over his uncle breaking his hip.

So after the fire passed and the house saved the neighbors houses was both destroyed. And they made an insurance claim with his uncles injury. What happened "oh a caramel run me over." It must of been the most unusual insurance claim.



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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #49 on: June 11, 2022, 12:51:54 PM »
Dang my eyes  "camel run me over"




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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #50 on: June 14, 2022, 12:21:51 AM »
Some great stories you have found I am trying to find out more about them.


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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #51 on: June 16, 2022, 01:26:09 AM »

On bush tracks where settlers homes were widely scattered, one frequently came upon a "haunted hut," not only in the big timbered regions of the eastern side, where mysterious sounds and weird bird cries kept the lonely camper listening, but far outback where those sounds were absent. On the long stock routes there were many places that were known to drovers as haunted camps, where the quietest cattle, which gave no trouble elsewhere, refused to settle down, and would stampede perhaps several times through the night. The haunted hut was always empty. To most people it was known as a deserted hut.

There was a deserted hut at the foot of a range, a one-time out station called Tanumba, where the body of a stockman's wife was fished out of a waterhole with flat irons tied round her neck. There was also the ghost of an old man, who had vanished thereabouts when the blacks were supreme. He was always sitting on a log, mending his trousers.

There were other huts where strange things happened that changed the views of hundreds of travellers in regard to ghosts. One stood by the road below Kyogle, when that place was only a station homestead. It was a strong one roomed hut, with a wide chimney at one end. Its spectral inhabitant had been seen and described at different times by many persons who did not know at the time that the place was reputed to be haunted. Neither were the men known to each other. Travellers who knew the road camped in the open.

Further up, the mailman's track across the range was known from the earliest times as the haunted track, and Mount Lindsay as the haunted mountain before the first whites came there. When Tooloom diggings broke out, a shanty was opened by a man named Carney between Noogara and Koreela Creek. An old digger, who had £80 on him, and was travelling with a horse and cart, stayed there one night, and next morning drove on up the range. Some time later the horse came back with the cart. The old man was picked up dead on the track, but his money
was missing. After that, according to travellers tales, the "chock-clock" of a ghostly cart was added to the nightly sounds along the mailman's track.

Wyagdon Hill, on the road between Bathurst and the old Turon goldfield, was known as "The Haunted Hill" from the roaring fifties. The strange caperings of horses from time to time when crossing it kept the superstition alive; and there were many local people who preferred a roundabout route to riding over it at night. A mounted trooper named Codrington was murdered on the summit in 1858 while waiting to join the mail escort to Bathurst.
Having that tragedy in mind, travellers might imagine things at night, but what about the horses?

Bottle Forest, on the Illawarra Range, was also avoided by the superstitions at night. The only mystery about it was the single footprint of a child, impressed on a solid rock, the toes and general outline being as clear as the mark that would be left on stiff clay. Old blacks spoke of it as "the little man of the forest," and none of them ever camped in the vicinity.

Here’s a 1932 newspaper article.

There are many strange things in the bush that no one can account for, and one of them is the footprint of a child, impressed on a solid rock at Bottle Forest, on the Illawarra Range. It has probably been there for ages. Old blacks speak of it as "the little man of the forest," and none of the tribe has ever camped in the vicinity. It may possibly be a freak of nature, but the toes and general outline of the foot are very clear, just like the mark that would be left on stiff clay. People who see it generally look for the mark of the other foot, but there is only one. As might be expected, the place has a "haunted" reputation, and superstitious folk give it a wide berth at night , like the

Dinner Creek, on the old road between Grafton and Glen Innes, was known as a haunted creek from the time
when there was heavy carrying between those places. A murdered teamster was found near the ford, with the bullock whip still in his hand, and wearing a cabbage-tree hat. Many people who camped at the crossing saw the ghost of that teamster walking along the bed of the creek, and carrying his whip; and if he was seen without his hat it was said that disaster would overtake the traveller. That was alleged to have happened to several teamsters, and eventually that crossing was shunned as a camping place. Teamsters contrived to reach it about midday, and thus the name Dinner Creek.

Haunted cattle camps were as plentiful as haunted huts. There was one near Eromanga (Q.) where we had a lively time one night with a mob of Bulgroo cattle. Trouble started early in the first watch, when the mob suddenly
sprang up and bolted. They were brought back, but very soon they were off again like, a mob of mad beasts. After several rushes we had to put them on a fresh camp, and there they settled down. The place they objecteted to was a nice clump of trees on a clear flat.

We were told in the town next day that no cattle had ever been known to camp there through the night. It was also mentioned that some one had been murdered there many years before. Old warriors of the overland didn't take much notice of that. They could generally tell restful country, and on strange roads they went ahead to pick the camps. But they believed that cattle could see things that humans could not. They avoided the known "haunted camps," and the vicinity of aboriginal graves.

Published by The Land Sydney, NSW Fri 12 Jan 1934

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #52 on: June 16, 2022, 01:33:26 AM »

To the year 1883 belongs the honour of witnessing the advent of the first ghostly visitant at Warragul. It is now a month or two since it became rumoured that one had been both seen and heard inside a certain little cottage situated upon a property, distant about a mile from the Warragul Post Office, and now owned by a well known and rather popular resident of our district, who is also known as the proprietor of more than one celebrated racehorse.

The house itself has for some months been tenanted by a Mr. and Mrs. C— with a family of young children, and some six weeks ago Mrs. C— became the mother of a female infant, the only peculiarity about which is that the child is a remarkably small one, about half the size of an average baby.

Now it would appear that this lady was the first to both see and hear the apparition. At different times she called the attention of her nurse, an assistant nurse., her own husband, his sister, two male lodgers and the members of her own family to the phenomena, and most of them are positive that they heard distinctly the sound of light
velvety footfalls though none besides the lady herself were able to see anything.

She, however, is quite certain that the sceptre was seen with great clearness by her own eyes upon a number of different occasions. Upon one occasion when stooping to pick something off the floor besides the sofa, she was horrified to find it sitting just in front of her, and on it starting up and vanishing through a closed door. The figure is described as that of a tall spare man with light grey beard and moustache, its usual time for appearing is between two or three o'clock in the morning. As the visit of our re-presentative to the locality was in broad daylight we are unable to present any occular demonstration to our readers. The motion made by the Goblin is described by Mrs. C— to be rather a gently gliding, one more like skating upon ice, than the stepping of ordinary mortals.

Now here the only little bit of contradiction in the tale comes in. With this peculiar and graceful
mode of transit, how about the very distinct footsteps heard by so many upon different occasions?

The only present explanation that can be given of the ghosts nocturnal visits is that, according to the oldest inhabitants in the locality, there stood near the present house in the scrub days a little paling hut, from which, an old man suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. There was also a well a few paces off that was shortly after wards filled with earth and a new one dug close by Mr. C— is determined to have the old well cleared out directly he can find its exact whereabouts and a search made in hopes that some clue may be afforded to the appearance of the first Warragul Ghost.

Published by Warragul Guardian and Buln Buln and Narracan Shire Advocate Warragul, Vic Thu 2 Aug 1883

Just three years later, another strange story was published in The Warragul Guardian on the 27th of May, 1886


There has been considerable excitement in Warragul, Buln Buln and the neighborhood lately owing to a ghost having made its appearance in a gully near the farm of Mr. H. Rodgers. The apparition having been seen by more than one person, a party of four started one night to hunt it, the leader being armed with a gun.

Suddenly the spectre appeared when the man with the gun dropped his weapon and fell down in a fit, while two of his companions ran away, and the third, after running some distance, returned and assisted his leader home. Such an effect was produced on this man that we hear that he has had more than one fit since, and will not now sleep in a hut by himself.

The young ladies in the neighborhood are disconsolate, we understand, because their lovers will not dare to visit them after nightfall. We were informed on Saturday last that a large party had been made up to go and hunt the ghost and that members of the rifle club had been requested to join in, but as the riflemen subsequently declined on the ground that as the price of ammunition had been raised, they could not afford to expend any on ghosts, the scheme fell through.

For the sake of the young ladies whose distress we have referred to above, we think some of our gallant defenders might turn out and see what the ghost is made of. They can have the loan of the devil from this office if they promise to return him safe and sound.  The members of the party actually started to hunt the spectre last Monday night, and who no doubt would have succeeded had their courage not failed just as they approached the cemetery.

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #53 on: June 16, 2022, 01:46:19 AM »

Len Johns, one of the Champion apprentices, who is enjoying a holiday writes to the Champion staff as follows, from Tivoli State School, near Ipswich:

Now I am going to tell you a story. It is a ghost story, better than "Our Ghost" in the Champion, and what is more, this is a true one. Now for it. Andy Wright took me down their new shaft, which is at the other end of the tramway bridge. He took me pretty well all over it. We went down in the cage. As the driver of the engine had gone home when we went back to the foot of the shaft we couldn't go up in the cage, so we walked up the tunnel to the air shaft, and then climbed up the ladder about 20 feet.

I told my brother about it, and he said he would like to go down. I had a couple of pit lamps, and we went over about eight o'clock at night. It was pitch dark outside, no moon. I had to take the lead. There is a galvanised wall around the mouth of this small shaft with a small door to crawl through. We couldn't light our lamps till we were in the tunnel for fear somebody would see the light. I can tell you I felt a bit queer stepping down into the dark hole.

We managed to feel our way down to the bottom of the shaft-20 feet. We went down the tunnel about a yard, and there lit our lamps. Before that, when we were getting down the ladder, my brother who had a cocoa tin full of kerosene, and I happened to be looking up towards him at the time managed to pour half the contents over my face by accident, of course. We got down as far as a sort of a junction (about 50 yards-downhill all the time) where one tunnel joins to the other. Here there is a bag hanging down to keep the draught. The other tunnel is an old worked out one. He was very much afraid that there was bad air the other side.

Before I go any further I must inform you that this tunnel connects with the old "Eclipse" pit ; that the " Eclipse " is said to be haunted on account of the men being drowned in it at the time of the big floods ; that down the haunted pit strange knockings are said to take place every night, like as if somebody were dropping a hammer against a piece of hard coal, said to be the ghosts of the seven men that were entombed, trying to get out of the pit.

He knew nothing about this, neither did he know that the tunnel oonnected with the haunted pit, the " Eclipse." He was asking me was I sure that the air in the tunnel, over which the bag was hanging, was not impure air, when "Hush listen! Was that something knocking ?
" Yes, it is," says I, forgetting for the time about ghosts, haunted pits. " It is only the water dropping from the roof  of the tunnel to the floor," says I.
At the same time I thought it sounded rather loud. " Pull back the bag," he says to me, " and stick your lamp through and have a look in."

I did. Ahead all was dark, gloomy, and weird; not a sound, save the tap, tap of what we thought was the dropping of water. The noise was going on as regularly as if done by clockwork. I was about a yard ahead of him, and as I said before, all was dark, gloomy ahead. About two seconds after I pulled back the bag and shoved my lamp in; the knocking suddenly ceased. Just as sudden the thought struck me about this tunnel running to the haunted pit, 150 yards away, and about the ghosts at their usual work.

It was about nine o'clock at night. I did not let on to my brother about being afraid, nor did he notice the knocking suddenly cease. I said, " I think we had better not go in there, there might be impure air, at the same time great beads of perspiration rolled off me, and my legs commenced to shake and feel very weak, and my teeth
commenced chattering like a box of ivory dominoes. I felt very glad when I saw that he did not seem to notice me in such a state. He was in front walking up the tunnel, and I was behind him. Had I told him on the way up about the ghosts, a panic would have taken place and we would have made a rush for it, and perhaps fallen over and killed ourselves. As it was, I scraped all the skin off my back against the roof through not stooping enough. All the time I was in a terrible agony of fear.

At last, we reached the foot of the shaft. He blew out his lamp, and told me to do likewise. I wouldn't.
"You old goat," says he, "somebody will see us coming up if you don't."
I then told him about the ghosts, the passage to the " Eclipse," the strange knocking, and how it suddenly ceased when I drew back the bag and shoved my lamp in. We then made a bolt for it, and managed to scramble in the darkness up the ladder, and jump outside. On the way up a bat hit my leg, I let out a scream, and nearly fainted with fright. I would not go down that place with only one bloke with me for anything, no, not even for a safety pneumatic-tired bike. I forgot to tell you that my lamp went out when half way up, and I could not strike a match as all round us was so damp. I hurried on to him and got a light from his lamp.

Published by The Western Champion and General Advertiser for the Central-Western Districts Barcaldine, Qld
Tue 14 Jan 1896

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #54 on: June 16, 2022, 01:52:09 AM »

A story from Tasmania relates to the B— family ghost. In the thirties the B— family took up land in the Midlands. In those early days, squatting was often a hard struggle and at first B— and his young wife resided in a house, but little better than the one provided for his hands. As the flock increased, however; and the outlay inseparable from taking up Virgin country ceased, the owner began building a fine stone house, which still stands, though no longer in the possession of the family.

Mrs. B— was anticipating the birth of an heir to the estate, and as she watched the building progress, she yearned that her child should be born in the new house instead of in the unpretentious cottage down by the river. The
desire soon possessed her entirely. To gratify her, though the building had not been quite completed, she was installed in one of the rooms, and there her twins were born. In giving them birth she lost her life.

Though many years have elapsed since the house passed from the possession of her family, the ghost of the ambitious young wife is said to linger still in the home she so ardently desired to occupy. Several guests of the present owner maintain they have seen the figure of a woman in a wrapper standing by the window of the room in which she died, while others assert they have seen it ascending the staircase leading to an attic.

Published by The Australasian Melbourne, Vic Sat 14 Dec 1929


Old residents of Carlton will recall the legend of the Grattan street ghost. In the fifties, at the corner of Grattan and Leicester streets, there was a large area of land enclosed by a high wooden fence. On it the over landers used to yard their cattle before taking them into the sale yards.

In those days many of the drovers carried considerable sums of money, belonging to the men who sent them out to purchase fat stock. In a house close by, a drover was found murdered, and there are old residents who will tell you that they recall the time when many people in the locality would not venture out alone at night, especially when there was a bright moon, as the rumour was current that at such times the ghost of the murdered man, booted and spurred and stockwhip in hand, might he seen wandering up and down.

Published by The Australasian Melbourne, Vic Sat 14 Dec 1929


It is a common thing to hear of haunted houses and scenes of alleged ghostly visitations in country districts. Probably the most extraordinary of these "scenes" occurred at Springfield Station, Burrowa, N.S.W.

A fine, new stone house was suddenly vacated by its occupants, who alleged that the place was the scene of weird night lights and noises which could be caused by nothing but visitations from the spirit world. Several people who laughed at such nonsense, volunteered to remain in the place overnight, but were soon convinced of the presence of an invisible something.

Swagmen even got to know the place, and consistently refused the shelter of its inviting rooms.
Perhaps the most remarkable phase of the whole thing, was that cattle and sheep, which were running in the paddock, could not be induced to camp anywhere near the house after dusk. The place was eventually demolished.

Published by Crookwell Gazette NSW Wed 5 Sep 1928

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #55 on: June 20, 2022, 01:07:32 AM »

It was very nearly opposite the stable entrance of the old Red Cow Inn, in George street. It stood for many years, a most melancholy looking wreck, in the most busy part of this, the principal street of the pretty little town of Parramatta. The dilapidated building was the more remarkable from its appearance being marked contrast with the neat houses and well kept gardens that surrounded it.

There was a small enclosure in front of the house, where once there had been a garden, but the railings were broken down, the gate hanging hopelessly by one hinge, the plants smothered and strangled by the rank grass that grew unchecked and uncropped upon the ground, for animals of every kind, even to the wandering goats seemed to shun the spot.

There was a verandah to the first floor, forming a portico to the ground floor, but the woodwork that composed it was rotting and crumbling to dust, and the paint had long since peeled off and disappeared from it. The glass in the windows was nearly all broken, and the sashes were all but falling to pieces. In fact, nothing could well be more wretched and miserable than its general appearance, and nothing could better come up to the idea of a haunted house.

Of course it was haunted. Everybody in Parramatta at the time I speak of— some twenty five years ago—knew it, and could swear to it. The youngsters would no more think of walking past it after dark, and even grown people regarded it suspiciously as they passed. Noises had been heard and things had been seen in the house, which from the very vagueness of the accounts given, lent a deeper mystery to the whole affair.

My friend, from whom I have this account, and whom I will call Fox, was exceedingly sceptical about ghosts in general, but more particularly about this ghost. So many tales and rumours reached him on the subject when he set himself to inquire into it, that at last he and another equally as sceptical as himself determined to beat up the quarters of the ghost, and to see what he was really made of.

There is one peculiarity about ghosts, and that is, that they have a morbid prejudice against appearing to two persons when in each other's company ; and as Fox had from his reading learnt this, he and his friend decided that one should remain on watch in the street, whilst the other awaited the appearance of the spirit, if there was one, in the house, and held a private interview with it. I will now, as nearly as I can remember, narrate, in Fox's own words, the circumstances that occurred.

'Midnight,' said he, being the orthodox time at which ghosts usually appear, my friend and I proceeded to the house at about half-past 11. There was no difficulty in entering, for the windows which were what are called French-lights, were all broken, without fastenings and partly off their hinges. We examined the door, but that was perfectly fast, the catch of the lock and the ends of the bolts being so rusted to the ironwork into which they fitted, as in each case to form one solid piece, and so to be immovable. The same might be said of the back door, and the one window at the back had a shutter to it, which we managed to secure.

After this scrutiny my friend left, and then as well as I was able, I closed and secured the front windows. This I managed to do in such a way that they could not be opened wide enough to admit any person without sufficient noise being made to put me on my guard.

It was a bright moonlight night, and as I passed through the different rooms everything could be seen almost as clearly as by day. The appearance of the rooms was anything but encouraging, and, although I had not the slightest dread or thought of any supernatural appearance, I confess that I wished that my friend and not I had to pass the stipulated hour in such uncomfortable quarters. The plaster from the ceilings and walls had nearly all fallen down upon the floors, where it had rotted and formed a thick coating of soil.

Having taken the precautions I have mentioned, I went upstairs and visited the rooms above. These I found to be even more ruinous and wretched than those below, for the leakage through the roof had added very materially to the general decay.

The stairs as I ascended cracked under my tread, bending at every step as though they would have given way with me. The windows, however, were in a better state of preservation, so upstairs I determined to keep my watch. I looked out, and under the portico of the Inn opposite, I saw my friend walking to and fro, with his eye on the house. I filled and lighted my pipe and sitting on the window sill had a smoke.

I had hardly finished it when the bell of St John's struck midnight. I looked out and saw the Inn shut up for the night, and as the door closed with a bang, I felt for the first time a sensation of— I hardly know what to call it— but a kind of uneasiness creeping over me.

What caused it I could not say, but uneasy I certainly had become. My first pipe had made the time pass over pretty well, so I determined to try the effect of a second. I drew out my knife and tobacco, and was cutting away at the latter when I heard a noise at the street door. There was no mistake, it was some one putting a key into the lock.
‘ You won't get much good by that,' thought I, as I remembered how the door was bolted and the ironwork rusted but the thought had hardly passed through my mind when I heard the lock turn and the door open. The key was then taken out of the lock, and the door again closed with a loud bang.

'Hilloo!' thought I, 'what does this mean?  I thought the wards of the lock were immovable.

I went to the head of the stairs and listened, and plainly heard footsteps in the passage.
‘ It must be Alfred,' thought I ; so I called him by name, but received no answer. The footsteps had ceased for an instant, just about as long as it would take a person to hang up a cloak or a hat in the passage.

They were then resumed, and now I heard them mounting the stairs, up and up, and up, they came, and though I looked over, and the moonlight shone in clear upon the staircase, nothing could be seen. Still up, and up, came the steps, wearily and heavily, like those of a person who was tired, or an elderly man who ascended with
difficulty. Up and up still, until they sounded within a stair or two of where I stood.

I don't know how it was, but I drew back from the centre of the stairway where I was standing.
The action was quite involuntary on my part, and I became ashamed of myself immediately after. Before I could resume my position, however, the footsteps had passed me, and as the sound was emitted from the stair on which I stood, I felt a cold chill run through me as though an icy blast had blown upon me. The footsteps passed me seemed to go into the room I had just quitted, and there ceased.

The whole affair had come upon me so suddenly that I had been completely taken by surprise.
No time had been given me to reflect and I was consequently taken at a disadvantage.

Now however, that my attention was no longer distracted, I reasoned the matter with myself, and soon decided upon the course to take. Without the slightest hesitation I walked into the room in which the sounds had been last heard. Nothing was to be seen, although I looked carefully around. To tell the truth I did not expect to see
anything, for I had seen nothing pass me on the stairs. I waited for a few minutes, expecting the sound of footsteps to be resumed. As they were not, I determined to satisfy myself in regard to the door.
Down stairs I went, and again examined it.

Although I used all my strength, I could not draw back either the catch of the door, or either of the bolts, whilst as a proof that no key had been used, there were thick cobwebs over the keyhole. I was still standing pondering over the matter, and trying, though unsuccessfully, to find some solution for it, when once more I heard the footsteps in the room above.

This time, thought I, if there is anything coming down, I will stop it or it shall go through or over me. I went up the stairs and took my position on the stair, next below the landing halfway up, when there was a turn or traverse. The footsteps were descending, and, determined to test the matter unmistakably, I laid hold of the banisters with one hand, whilst with the other I touched the wall, thus entirely barring the way.

Down came the footsteps, when within three stairs of the landing, I thought I saw the shadowy form of a man. This became more distinct as it neared me, until when the step reached the landing just one stair above where I stood, I saw plainly and unmistakably a male figure.

It was that of a man rather beyond middle age. His dark hair, thickly grizzled, hung in heavy massive curls from his head, almost on to his shoulders. His dress appeared to be a blue jacket, with a dark vest and black trousers. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, with a red and yellow silk handkerchief hanging loosely in a tutor's knot round the neck. The face was deadly pale, and the mouth was compressed, and the teeth clenched in fierce determination. The eyes, though bright and glaring, were utterly meaningless ; there was no expression at all in them, but they were fixed on me with a dull stony stare, much more difficult to encounter than would have been an expression of passion of any kind.

All this I took in at a glance, as the two last stairs were descended, for there was no cessation. As it reached the landing the figure turned to continue its descent, and then I met it face to face, and almost touching me. That dead, dull, meaningless stare was more than I could bear, and with a gesture of aversion I put up my hand to keep the horrible spectre off me. My hand met with no resistance but seemed to pass clean through the object before me, and touched the wall behind it, as the steps sounded on the stair on which I was standing, and the spectre passed from my sight leaving me again with that deadly chill that I had previously experienced.

For an instant a feeling of intense horror and disgust overcame me. By a violent effort, however, I once more obtained command over myself, turned myself round and looked towards where the footsteps now sounded on the lowest stair. Nothing, however, was to be seen, and nothing more did I see though I heard the step in the hall, heard the key applied and the locked turned, and heard the door opened and after wards closed with a slam.

Only by a strong exercise of will did I save myself from fainting. My legs refused their office and I was fain to sit down on the stair until I had in some measure recovered myself. A few minutes sufficed for this, and then I rejoined my friend, whom I found outside. He was still on watch where I had last seen him, had never taken his eyes off the door, and affirmed positively that it had neither opened nor shut. I told him all I had seen, but this only made him the more anxious to take his turn of watching.

The next evening he was early on the ground, and with me carefully examined every corner and crevice, more particularly the door. I left him in high spirit, but, after waiting till 1 o'clock, and finding he did not return I went to look for him. Lucky it was that I did so, for I found him in the passage writhing in a fit, and it was only by the greatest difficulty he was restored to consciousness, and some months before he regained perfect health. Though I often asked him as to what he had seen, I could never get him to say a word upon the subject.

Published by Sydney Mail NSW Sat 29 Dec 1866

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #56 on: June 21, 2022, 01:03:23 AM »

Many years ago I was travelling in the south western part of New South Wales with an old college chum. I had not seen him for many years, for after he left King's School, he had been sent to England by his father to study medicine. He had a fairly successful university career there, completed his course, and returned to Australia a fully fledged doctor.

Before finally settling down to practice, I had persuaded him to join me on a country trip both as a recreation and for the purpose of seeing something of life pastoral and agricultural districts of the State. He was a good talker, full of interesting reminiscences, and, backed by a cultured mind, was one of the most entertaining men it had ever been my fortune to meet.

We had a good pair of horses and a slight buggy, and, having been travelling all day, were pushing on to the homestead of a small station, where, although strangers, we hoped to spend the night. With the cool assurance of all bush travellers, we sought the hospitality of the house, and were soon comfortably seated at the dining table with the manager and his young wife. After the meal we all adjourned to the verandah, and, lighting our pipes, comfortably ensconced ourselves in the cane lounges. I can recall no more pleasant evening than we had on that occasion.

The manager was a most entertaining fellow. He had travelled and he had read, and, being a good
conversationalist, we listened with considerable interest. His wife too, was a woman of culture, and her wide range of reading and thoughts enabled her to discuss many subjects that I are not usually of interest to women. The doctor was at his best, and the hours flew by unnoticed. The manager was relating an amusing experience he had when travelling in Germany with his camera.

Suddenly we were all startled by a piercing scream, which proceeded from the paddock adjoining the house. The doctor sprang to his feet with the intention of running out into the paddock. The manager and his wife had also jumped up, and were looking into each other’s face. They appeared more agitated than the circumstances altogether warranted. They stood motionless with their hands clasped together. With an effort the manager turned round as he noticed the doctor bounding along the direction of the scream.

“Comeback, come back doctor,” he cried hoarsely; "its nothing."

His wife had sunk into her seat again and had buried her face in her hands. I was recovering from the scare I had, and could take more notice of what was occurring round me. The doctor had stopped in his impetuous rush as he heard the manager’s call.

“Good heavens!" he exclaimed, what was it?”
He came reluctantly back , but neither the manager nor his wife vouchsafed a reply to his question.

"I never in all my life heard a more awful scream,” he said, as he slowly up the stairs again. He threw himself into a lounge and looked askance at the manager, waiting for an explanation. Instead of giving one, the manager turned to his wife, and stroking her hair said—“Come my dear, I think you had better get to bed. It’s 11 o’clock and you must be dreadfully tired”

She a once stood up, and taking her husband’s preferred arm, briefly said good night to us and went inside. The manager turned his head as they passed through the door, and said, “ I shall be back in a few minutes if you will excuse me “

The doctor was visibly distressed. “I can’t understand it” he said,” as he caught my eye.
“If ever a woman was in danger and distress, that woman who screamed was”

My mind was dwelling as much upon the extraordinary agitation of our host and hostess as upon the startling scream. “I feel annoyed” the doctor continued. “I feel annoyed that I did not go and investigate the matter, but the tone of the manager was so peremptory I imagined he could account for the affair, but when I returned and saw him and his wife I realised that they too, were quite as startled as we.”

We smoked for fully 20 minutes before the manager returned. He walked to his chair, and sitting down lighted a cigar and for two or three minutes, he puffed away without a word. It almost seemed he was unconscious of our presence, for he sat there staring into the gloom surrounding the house. Then, with an effort, he seemed to pull himself together and said:—

“ I don’t know how you fellows feel, but I was knocked over.” Then apparently remembering that some explanation was due to the doctor, he turned to him and said:—"It was no use going out doctor, you could have done no good “

“ Don’t you think I might have been allowed to try?" the doctor asked.
“ Yes, if there had been anyone there, but there was not."
" What do you mean? Surely there can be no doubt of the shriek, and also that it came from some woman?"
“ No," returned the manager, “there cannot, but, nevertheless, I know there is nothing tangible. Listen, I don’t suppose you will give much credence to what I am going to tell you, but all the same I can assure you that it is absolutely a fact.”

“This is the third occasion upon which that shriek has been heard. The first occasion, at least, the first in my experience was about two years ago, soon after my marriage. My wife and I were sitting or the verandah one evening chatting when that awful sound occurred. I thought a woman was being murdered, and, springing up, I darted down the verandah steps and rushed across the paddock. I was much distressed at hearing my wife crying out to me not to leave her alone, but I could not turn back. I seemed to be irresistibly drawn towards the lower corner of the paddock. A second scream of such awful agony made me redouble my speed; then suddenly I became aware of the figure, of a woman not more than 50 yards from me.”

“She stood with her arms raised as if to ward off a blow. Her face bore a look of hopeless terror and agony. She wore a bright red cape and a dark dress, but I could not notice anything else about her dress. I looked about expecting to see her assailant, but there was no one else near. I noticed all these things as I ran towards her. It was then that I experienced an uncomfortable feeling,” and, he paused a moment then said, "Yes, I may as well be honest, and say I felt absolutely afraid.”

“Funny that I should have felt so, for under ordinary circumstances I don't know what fear is. I have been in a pretty tight corner with a mad bullock, I have been in a vehicle drawn by a pair of bolting half-broken horses and approaching a closely timbered piece of country, and never felt a moment's fear; but, as I say, I approached the woman with a feeling of dread. Then, when I was within 20 yards of her, she turned and ran before me, then completely disappeared. I was dumbfounded. I looked about, for the night was a bright one, but could see nothing of her. She had vanished. I retraced my steps to the house and found my wife, very much upset and nervous.
I didn't satisfy her curiosity. I merely said I could see no one. I got very little sleep that night, I could not erase from my mind the piteous look of terror on the face of the woman, nor could I get rid of the idea that there was something supernatural about the affair. When daylight came I found myself laughing at the whole thing, and feeling ashamed of my old womanish superstition of the previous night".

"A few months passed, and I had ceased to think of the matter. About a year ago the thing occurred again just as I have related it. Again I ran out to help, again I suddenly saw the woman, and once more I followed her till she vanished as on the previous occasion, but I could not put my wife off; she would have an explanation this time, and, rightly or wrongly, I told, her what I had seen. I have regretted it ever since, for it has been a constant dread to her. Tonight all her fears have returned, and I feel more concerned at the effect the episode will have on her than I care to admit. It's a nasty affair, and I am quite at a loss to account for it. I am naturally a very matter-of-fact fellow, and I have never had any belief in thing’s supernatural, but I confess the weirdness of this thing is beginning to oppress me. What can it be? It can't be a trick of the eye, for I saw that woman as distinctly as I see you now."

"I think it is very probable you did see the woman as you imagine," quietly remarked the doctor.
A few years ago I was a member of the Psychical Research Society, and the evidence brought before us of unaccountable happenings after death fairly staggered me. I am convinced that investigation would reveal something to account for what has just taken place."

Personally, I was secretly amused at the earnestness of those two men over the matter. I had never had the slightest belief in ghosts and apparitions, and always felt confident that all strange and mysterious incidents could be accounted for in an ordinary everyday manner. In this particular case I was sure that the woman was the result of an overheated imagination. I could not, nor did I attempt to, explain away the scream. There was not the slightest doubt about that. There might, of course, have been a camp of blacks in the vicinity, and the shriek might have come from one of the gins, and to satisfy myself on this point, I asked the question.

"No," at once replied the manager, "at the present moment there is not a black within 30 miles of us. In fact, I don't think there are a dozen in the whole district. Besides, he continued, how can you account for what I saw? The woman I saw was white, and evidently a lady."

Well, I couldn't account for her, and I said so. But at the same time I thought that before I accepted that part of his story I would require corroboration. He noticed my apparent scepticism on this point, and appeared a bit nettled. We relapsed into silence and puffed quietly at our pipes, each one's mind bent upon a probable solution of the mystery.

"I wish I had followed my original intention and gone to discover the cause of the scream. I might
have been in a position to confirm what you have stated, or perhaps have been able to advance
a commonsense solution of the matter."

"Ah, doctor," replied the manager, "I see that you too, are inclined to doubt my version of the affair; notwithstanding your half belief in supernatural events."

“No, it isn't that," returned the doctor. I don't doubt that you saw what you say, but I would be more satisfied if I knew someone else saw it too."

Well, I remarked, I only know that in all my travels I have never yet met anything that has not been perfectly in accordance with the natural order of things. I don't believe in ghosts, I don’t believe in apparitions and I am convinced that the scream we heard tonight came from a thing of flesh and blood.

The manager rose, saying, “ Let us sleep on it, and perhaps it will wear a different aspect in the morning. Daylight is a powerful factor in restoring one's mental equilibrium in matters of this sort"

We had just risen to our feet, and were about to go inside, when once more that terrific shriek was heard on the night air. I am not ashamed to say that for a moment I was so scared I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. The doctor's voice brought me to my senses "Good God!” he exclaimed, “there it is again." And without another word he sprang down the steps. We followed at our speed, the manager close at my heels,, and I not more than three yards behind the doctor.

An exclamation from the doctor made me look in the direction he was going, and for a moment I paused for there in the gloom stood the woman, just as the manager had described her, clad in a bright red cloak and dark dress, and with her arms raised. Although the night was very dark, her figure seemed to stand in a peculiar circle of light, and we could see her plainly. Her face was that of a young woman of about 25 years of age, but how shall I describe that awful look of terror? It has haunted me ever since. I have been unable to forget it, and now, after the lapse of 30 years, I see it as vividly as I did on that night.

We continued running towards her, and as we approached nearer,, she backed to us, then turned and ran down the paddock. We followed, but could not overtake her, and then, as the manager had explained to us, she vanished. We were in a cleared paddock, and she disappeared there in the open. We stood there panting with our exertions, and gazing at the spot where we had last seen her.

“Well, doctor, are you satisfied now?" asked the manager.

The doctor made no reply, but walked about in a circle examining the ground, as though he suspected a trick had been played by someone. As for me, I was astounded. All my scepticism had gone. I could no longer doubt the truth of the manager's story. It was no mental delusion, and as I thought it over standing there, I felt uncomfortable, and was quite relieved when the manager suggested that we had better return to the house. We walked back, each occupied with his own thoughts. Occasionally an exclamation would escape the doctor, but no one attempted to explain the mystery.

When we reached the house, the doctor said, "I should like to know something about this house. “Have you lived here long?" he asked the manager.
"Only about about three years," he answered. "You see this station was bought by an uncle of mine a few years ago, and have managed it ever since. It was previously owned by an American from California. I don't know much about him, but from what I have heard he was rather disreputable fellow. We never knew why he sold out, for the property was a good one, and paid well.” We chatted a little longer and then retired, but I for one could not rest, I would doze and then suddenly awake to find myself in a state of nervous apprehension.

What weird story surrounded that unfortunate woman?
Had she been done to death, and why should she now at stated intervals revisit the scene of her earthly terrors?

At last I draped asleep and dreamed all sorts of solutions to the mystery. Sometimes I imagined I was being murdered, at other times I was the murderer, but through all the jumble of dream there was the all pervading terror struck face of that, unhappy woman. I woke up in the morning very little refreshed with my sleep. We made an early start on our journey. The manager joined us at an early breakfast, and looked worn and depressed. Curiosity, none of us made any reference to the events of the previous night. We parted from him, and I have never met him since.

The doctor and I discussed the matter during our drive, but although we both endeavoured to explain the whole thing away we found ourselves in the end unanimously of opinion that it was an apparition of a murdered woman.

Three years passed, and our paths in life had diverged. The doctor had purchased a practice in Melbourne, while I had settled down in Sydney. One morning, in turning over a paper, my eye rested upon a paragraph headed, "Singular Deathbed Confession." It contained an account of a confession made by a dying man in New York. The confession was that some years previously he had left California for Australia, where he had purchased a certain cattle station. While there he had been joined by a young woman, whom he had bigamously married. She was a woman of violent temper, and discovering the injustice and wrong done to her by him, frequently threatened to have him arrested for bigamy.

One night this threat led to an outburst of uncontrollable passion on his part, and seizing a heavy walking stick, he dealt her a number of savage blows on the head. When he regained control of himself, he was horrified to find he had killed her. Terrified at the thought of the consequences of such a crime, he decided to hide the body of his unfortunate victim. He stealthily carried it out into a large paddock adjoining the house, and digging a deep hole, buried it there. His remorse, at the deed, and fear of discovery, made his life a perfect hell, and after enduring it for about a year, he sold the station and returned to America, but wherever he went he was pursued by the thought of what he had done. The unfortunate man concluded his confession by saying that he felt glad his miserable life was drawing to a close.

As I read the confession, I felt convinced that the station he referred to was the one the doctor and I had stayed at that memorable night three years previously. Without a moment's delay I penned a letter to the Inspector
General of Police, and had an interview with him, with the result that an inspector and a couple of men were despatched to the station and after a few days examination they discovered a human skeleton. It was buried about the middle of the paddock, and one peculiar feature about the matter was that the only trace of clothing found in the grave was tattered remains of a bright red cloak.

Published by Saturday Journal Adelaide, SA Sat 13 Dec 1924

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #57 on: June 22, 2022, 12:24:58 AM »

This is a true story. That is to say, the incidents I have narrated here are true in every particular.
Beyond the possible explanation I give towards close of the narrative, l do not pretend to understand.
Here are the facts.

My father and mother arrived at Portland from England in 1854. My father crossed the border into South Australia and purchased an estate. In the seventies, he sold it and acquired a property in another part of Australia with a four mile frontage to a river. The new estate was then run as a stud sheep farm. The manager of the estate, who was an elderly Irishman, gravely told my father not to go near the cliffs on the river bank — a mile from the homestead — because the place was haunted by a ghost.

The ghost was said to be in the shape of a transparent man without a head. The manager declared that he had seen it once, and that his horse bolted, ran into a fence and both horse and rider were severely injured. He then told my father that, in the early days, the river near the cliffs were used as a crossing place at low water for bullock waggons, which took gold seekers from the town into the far country and returned for stores.

On one of the return trips two men with a bullock waggon camped on the cliff. They had some success in finding gold, which they decided to divide into two equal parts. During the division a disagreement took place. One of the men picked up an axe and with one blow severed the head from the body of the other, who was on his knees picking over the nuggets. The murderer then dug a grave and buried the headless body on top of the cliffs. The head rolled over the cliff into the water and was carried down stream. The murderer then decamped, taking everything with him no one knowing where or caring. But ever after the cliffs were haunted by a ghost without a head.

I was about 12 years old when I began to hear the men talking of the headless ghost. It was common talk in the district. I was more impressed when one morning one of my father's men rolled up his swag and cleared out without waiting for the wages due to him for three weeks work. The man had the night before been to the hotel about three miles away. Coming home he had gone to sleep by a haystack near the cliffs. He said he was awakened by feeling something icy cold on his forehead, and on looking up he saw the headless ghost stooping over him, just in the act of removing a ghostly hand from his face. This was too much for the man, who jumped up and rushed for home, arriving at the men's hut a little after midnight. He woke up the other men and told them his story. The men did not scoff, but not feeling like returning to bed, they sat and smoked until daylight.

Before this, two of the other men had also seen the ghost while returning at midnight from the pub. When
reaching the stack near the cliffs they saw the ghost approaching, they left instantly and hurriedly, leaving their hats and a quart bottle of beer behind them. After that the cliffs and the neighborhood of the grave were avoided by all men after sundown.

Now for my own experience. On every country estate was kept a large pack of dogs of mixed breeds for killing rabbits and foxes, which were then beginning to become numerous. We had a good many dogs, and among them was one, half greyhound and staghound, who was used for hunting kangaroos and other wild game. He was a born killer, a big dog, in appearance like a great over-sized greyhound. I saw him tear the throat out of a mad boar pig one day, and my faith in him was great.

I decided to look for the ghost and to take this dog with me, so one beautiful moonlight night I crept through my window, when all were asleep, and went to the dog kennels. All the dogs were awake so I decided to take them all, feeling quite secure with their company. I quickly made my way to the cliffs. I will never forget that night. The dogs were jumping about and running around me as I walked. When I got within about a hundred yards of the cliffs I noticed that the dogs had stopped. Turning round to look for them, I got my first fright, every dog was standing with hair on end, teeth bared, snarling and looking intently toward the cliffs. The dogs had their lips drawn back and their fangs gleaming white in the moonlight.

The wind was softly moaning through the gumtrees, and l felt my hair stand up on end. I turned quickly and looked toward the cliffs and saw what looked like a misty vapour or about the height of a man, but no legs or arms were visible. I mustered up sufficient courage to call the dogs. The big fellow was the only one who moved. He came slowly and stood close to my side, his back hair straight on end, his long fangs bared, his top lip drawn back to such an extent that his gums were visible above his fangs. A low hoarse rumbling issued from his throat.

As I looked at him with my back to the cliffs, the whole pack, including the big fellow, simultaneously put their tails between their legs and fled for home, whimpering. I did not look again at the cliffs, and not desiring to let the dogs out of sight, rushed after them. On reaching home I found that I had not lost a length, and now consider that I must have broken all records from 50 yards to a mile that night. The dogs, still whimpering, ran to their kennels, and I, too scared to undress, tumbled into bed. My first and last ghost hunt had ended.

A neighbour who was a crack shot, declared that he would settle the ghost. He went one moonlight night to the haystack and waited until midnight, watching the grave. He declares that he saw the ghost form apparently rise out of nothing on top of the grave of the murdered man. The spectre then moved along the fence towards him. When at a distance of 50 yards the shooter fired the first barrel, but failed to stop the ghost's progress. At 40 yards he fired the second shot, with the same result. The ghost did not duck or hurry but continued to come towards him. He then dropped his gun and fled. Next day he sent his son to the stack near the cliffs to get the gun. The man who retrieved the gun is alive today and can confirm this account.

The spectre used to parade from the cliffs to the main road, along the fence and then vanish. One morning one of our laborers came galloping up to the homestead looking scared, with the news that there was a man lying dead on the road at the corner of the fence. He was returning about midnight from the hotel, driving a horse in a spring cart. The horse was violently frightened, and dashed forward, one wheel striking a large stone near the fence. The cart turned over, one side lying across the neck of the man, who had been completely strangled. Whether the ghost took fright at the death of this man, several of the men considered that was the ghost who frightened the horse, or whether it was satisfied at having caused the death of this man, the spectre was never seen again.

In thinking, as I have done very many times, about these queer happenings, I have often regretted that l did not look back when I went ghost hunting with the dogs. A headless spectre may have materialised while l was so scared looking at the dogs, on the other hand, it is possible that the misty vapour was caused by a heap of refuse brought down by the river when in flood, and deposited near the cliffs. The hot sun on this all day may have caused it to give forth misty vapour in the cool of the night. The vapour could float up the cliff steady and in the depression of the grave and a slight wind might cause the vapour to float along the fence down to the main road.

If this were so could account for the ghost seen by the manager, the two men drinking beer at the stack, and the man who shot at it, but would it account for the icy cold hand on the man's forehead when he was asleep at the stack or the uncanny action of the dogs?

Published by Weekly Times Melbourne, Vic Sat 28 Apr 1934

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #58 on: June 23, 2022, 12:45:02 AM »

' Come on old fellow, tell us about your ghost.’

' Here it is then,' commenced Daly, ' and to begin as you've all given your ghosts a name, I shall call mine The Lady with the Lantern.’

'Oh, don't go back into the dark ages, Mr. Daly’, said a soft voice.

' Who was that spoke ?' asked Daly turning round. 'It was you Miss Lizzie Jackson, I know by the wicked turn of your eye. And what can a bit of a girleen, born as ye may say only yesterday, know about the dark ages? 
But don't interrupt the speak and let me get on.’

I was going down to Sydney, and an accident to my horse compelled me to stop for the night at Black Creek. It wasn't Black Creek at all, however, for I'd gone through the township, and pulled up at Anvil Creek where an Inn hadn't been long built. Well, I had my supper, lit my dudheen, and 
took a walk out into the front to enjoy my smoke in the open air. Backwards and forwards I walked, just thinking of nothing at all except wishing I hadn't been bailed up in that lonely place.

I'd walked nearly down to the roadway, and the Inn stands a good piece back off it, when coming along the road I see a light, swinging about like as if it was in a lantern. It wasn't a bright night, for there were heavy clouds threatening a thunderstorm ; but I fancied, and trust the eye of an Irishman for finding it out, I fancied I see the glint of something white like a petticoat behind the lantern. There was a bit of luck I hadn't reckoned upon, coming in the shape of a little native girl. When I caught the sight of the petticoat, may depend that I wasn't long in walking down on to the road, and sauntering to where I saw the light coming, just as if I didn't see it at all and was just walking along promiscous like.

I went about fifty yards when I came to a bridge or what they call a culvert, that carried the road over a bit of a creek that runs into Anvil Creek, and comes down with no end of a rush after a thunderstorm, or a heavy shower. Just as I got to one end of the bridge, the light got to the other and then I saw at the end of the lantern as pretty a slip of a girl as ever I'd wish to set eyes on, her black hair hanging in long glossy ringlets on her shoulders. She looked a trifle pale, but that might have been the light and the clouds and the roads. When she got to the bridge, she stopped and began looking about on the ground, holding the lantern down so that she might see the better.

There was just the chance I wanted to scrape acquaintance, so over the bridge I went, and coming up alongside of the girl says I, What is it you've lost, my darlin? She didn’t answered me, and she didn't even look up, as if she'd heard me. Perhaps thought the poor girl's frightened at being met by a lump of a boy alone on the road, so I said, Don’t be alarmed, my darlin. You haven't anything to fear from me, and if you've lost anything I'll help you to find it, still not a word, and she went on looking and looking about, as if I hadn't been there at all.

Well, said I, its only manners to answer a civil question ; and you might have said, Thank you sir, or go to the divil, or any other civil answer. Not a word, or a turn of the head, but always the same eager searching. Thought I, at last, I have it, the poor craytur's deaf or she's an innocent.

With that I put out my hand with the intention to let her know if she was deaf that there was somebody there, when she made a sudden spring to the end of the bridge, raised the lantern high up into the air with one hand, and with the other pointed down to the opening under the roadway, and at the sametime turned upon me a face upon which was marked such mingled horror and hopeless misery as I shall never forget if I live to be as old as Mathuseley. I also went with one bound to the spot, looked down at the place indicated by the pointing finger, and could see nothing.

One look was sufficient to satisfy me of that, and I turned round to tell her so, when you may fancy I was a bit staggered at finding no traces of either girl or lantern. There was no place where she could have hid, for each side of the roadway was clear for a good distance, and her white dress could have been seen, even if she'd blown out her lantern. I listened, but I couldn't even hear the rustle of her clothes, and some of you young chaps I dare say can tell by experience how far a colleen may be traced by that.

However there I was, all alone and no sign of the female that wouldn't speak when she had a chance. Well, said I, to myself; there's better fish in the say than ever was caught ; and I'm not going to bother my head about a girleen that takes herself off in that indelicate manner, after making a fool of me into the bargain. So back I went to the Inn, consoled myself with a drop of whiskey, and got into a bit of a collogue with the landlady. 

' Who is there living in these parts?' says I. 
' I'd have thought some one had been living close by, seeing that slip of a girl poking about the road, with a lantern in her fist, as if she'd lost a pound note and meant to find it.' 

The landlady stopped me with ? 'That's her!'

' What her ‘ I asked. 

' Biddy Nowlan, she that died. And did you see her ‘

' I don't know about seeing the girl that died, but I met a nate, good looking, black haired colleen, 
searching about the bridge with a lantern.' 

'That was her, I tell you. There's a many that's seen her, though more often its only the light of the 
lantern that's seen. She don't do no harm, bless you ; quite the other way, for whenever she's seen, its always a sign there'll be a flood, and when the water's up in the creek her lantern's always moving about at the end of the bridge to guide travellers safe across.' 

‘ That's dacent, anyway. And may I ask you, Mrs Butts, how it was that she came to make a ghost of herself.’

She was engaged to be married to Phil Ryan, an overseer at Duguid's, and they were only about a month off the day. Phil used to come up and see her of evenings, and one night that he had promised particularly to bring her over something or other, I forget what, a heavy thunder storm came on, the creeks all run down bank high, and regular rainy weather set in for the night. Poor Biddy knew that Phil would come, in spite of all the rain and floods, and so out she went with a lantern to be a guide to him at the bridge. When she reached there she found that it was so covered with water that the roadway was not visible. She called and called, but received novanswer, and after waiting up to the time when he might be expected, if he was coming at all, 
she went home.

Some uneasiness, for which she could not account, would not allow her to sleep, so just before daylight she once more lighted her lantern and went out. This here creek, and the landlady pointed her short fat hand down to the bridge, comes down flooded half an hour after rain begins, but it goes down just as soon after the rain stops. The morning was fine and clear, the rain was all off, and the creek was down so that there was only just a narrow bit of a stream running in the centre of it.

Looking for she didn't know what, and led on by some awful presentiment of evil, she searched the ground, until reaching the bridge, she found her lover's body lying cold and dead, half drawn under the bridge which had caught it, and had at least prevented its being swept away to where it might have been long before it was discovered, of course she screamed and fainted on the body, and there she lay until found by some of the earliest passers by.

She never spoke again, and though everything that could be done for her was done, by her mother and us women, she died on the day that Phil's body was buried. Ever since then she's been seen down at the bridge whenever there's bad weather coming on, and as you've seen her tonight you may depend upon it that there'll be a flood in the creek before morning.

‘ And was there a flood, Mr. Daly?' asked one of the ladies.

'Sure enough there was, and a rare one too, by the same token, that I had to pass another day at the Inn, as the coach was unable to get along from Singleton.'

Published by Sydney Mail NSW Sat 29 Dec 1866

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Re: Unexplained Experiences
« Reply #59 on: June 24, 2022, 01:34:13 AM »

One of the earliest of Adelaide's haunted houses was the old Fountain Inn Hotel, which was built at Encounter Bay in 1887. It is said to be one of the first hotels erected in South Australia. The building was constructed of weather-board and the roof was thatched with grasses from the surrounding country. As it was the only hotel for miles around, The Fountain became the favorite gathering place of the whalers, and many wild carousals were held within its walls. Brawls were many and frequent, and more than one man was dragged from the bar bleeding from wounds sustained in a free for all fight.

After some years other hotels were erected in the district, and the 'Fountain' was let to tenants as a summer residence. But no one could be found who would stay long in the place. At the dead of night, when the sullen boom of the breakers sounded above the stillness of night, there would come other sounds, queer, inexplicable noises, like human feet dragging heavily over the soft sand. Yet when one investigated there was nothing. Knowing the unenviable reputation of the place the rumor went round the village that the place was haunted by the ghost of a whaler, who had been injured in a drunken brawl and had been dragged to the beach and left to die.

Some persons went even so far as to say that they had seen the grim tableau enacted, and that at a certain time of the night the spirit of the man returned to his old haunts. There are persons still living who say they have heard the strange noises. Matters came to a climax one night in late summer. The house was occupied by a young farmer, a Mr. Smith, and his wife.

On this night the husband was called into town. Knowing the evil reputation of the place the husband before leaving for town went round the village to find some courageous person who would stay with his wife through the night. But evidently the stories surrounding the place had circulated everywhere, and no one would stay a night in the haunted house. Goaded by the cowardice of the community the young wife determined to brave the horrors of a night alone, and after her husband's anxious farewell she retired to the sitting room with her sewing.

The flickering oil lamp threw strange, mis-shapen shadows about the walls, outside the wind moaned and wailed across the desolate land, but the wife resolutely put all thoughts of ghostly visitors from her mind. She dared not go to bed, but remained busy with her needle and thread, her spirits kept up by the thought of her husband's promise to return as soon as the dawn permitted it.

Midnight struck, then one and two o'clock. The wind had died low and from far off came the rumble of breakers. Suddenly from outside the window came a soft dragging rustle, as of a heavy body being dragged through thick sand. Every moment it grew louder until the woman could remain still no longer. Snatching up the lamp she ran to the door and thrust the light outside.

The flickering radiance lit the scene dimly, but sufficiently to show her that the beach was deserted. Whatever made the ghostly noises was apparently within a few yards of her and yet it remained invisible. Almost frantic with terror she rushed back into the house, double locked the door, and spent the remainder of the night in her bedroom, where her husband found her when he returned in the morning.

The next day they left the house and its evil reputation and sought a home elsewhere. This incident can be perused more fully in the newspapers of that date, which give a full account of the uncanny business. Several tenants took the house after, but none of them stayed long.

Published by The Mail Adelaide, SA Sat 28 Dec 1929


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