GHOSTS.
At Beoley, about half a century ago, the ghost of a reputed murderer managed to keep undisputed possession of a certain house, until a conclave of the clergy chained him to the bed of the Red Sea for fifty years. When that term was expired the ghost reappeared (two or three years ago), and more than ever frightened the natives of the said house—slamming the doors, and racing through the ceilings. The inmates, however, took heart, and chased him, by stamping on the floor from one room to another, under the impression that, could they once drive him to a trap-door opening into the cheese-room (for which, if the ghost happened to be a rat, he had a very natural penchant), he would disappear for a season. The beadle of the parish, who also combined with that office the scarcely less important one of pig-sticker, declared to the writer that he dared not go by the house now in the morning till the sun was up. (It was an ancient superstition that evil spirits flew away at cock-crowing.)
The Droitwich Canal, in passing through Salwarpe, is said to have cut off a slice of a large old half-timbered structure supposed to have been formerly a mansion-house; and in revenge for this act of mutilation, the ghost of a former occupier revisits his old haunts, affrights the domestics, and may be seen on dark nights, with deprecatory aspect, glide down the embankment, and suicidally commit himself to the waters below.
The Little Shelsley people will have it that the Court-house in that parish is haunted, and that a Lady Lightfoot, who was said to have been imprisoned and murdered in the house, comes at night and drives a carriage and four fiery horses round some old rooms that are unoccupied, and that her ladyship's screams are sometimes heard over the whole Court. She has likewise been seen to drive her team into the moat, when the whole disappeared, the water smoking like a furnace.
Many of the ancient manor-houses of Worcestershire have similar superstitions. At Huddington, there is an avenue of trees, called "Lady Winter's Walk," where the lady of Thomas Winter, who was obliged to conceal himself on account of the share he had in the Gunpowder Plot, was in the habit of awaiting her husband's furtive visits; and here the headless spectre of her ladyship is still seen occasionally pacing up and down beneath the sombre shade of those aged trees. A headless female also appears at Crowle brook, by which it would seem that the poor heart-broken lady sometimes extended her visits.
At Leigh, a spectre, known as "Old Coles," formerly appeared, and at dead of night, with vis insana, would drive a coach and four down a part of the road, dash over the great barn at Leigh Court, and then cool the fiery nostrils of his steeds in the waters of the Teme. Mr. Jabez Allies also records that this perturbed spirit was at length laid in a neighbouring pool by twelve parsons, at twelve at night, by the light of an inch of candle; and as he was not to rise again until the candle was quite burnt out, it was therefore thrown into the pool, and, to make all sure, the pool was filled up—
"And peaceful ever after slept Old Coles's shade."
This Coles (as is recorded by Mr. Lees) was on intimate terms with a neighbour at Cradley, and being distressed for want of money, heard that his friend was going to Worcester to receive a large sum, and thereupon waylaid him on his return by night. Coles seized the bridle and threatened his friend's life; but the Cradley yeoman drew his sword and made a furious cut, which freed him at once from the robber, and he rapidly rode home; on his arrival there he found a bloody hand firmly grasping his horse's bridle, and one of the fingers bore the signet ring of his friend Coles. Next day he went to Leigh, and found Coles in bed; he acknowledged his crime, and begged for mercy, which was granted in consideration of his awful punishment.
At Astwood Court, once the seat of the Culpepers, was an old oak table, removed from the side of the wainscot in 1816, respecting which tradition declares that it bore the impress of the fingers of a lady ghost, who, probably tired of appearing to no purpose, at last struck the table in a rage, and vanished for ever; but the ghost was also in the habit of walking from the house to "the cloven pear-tree."
At Holt Castle, it was not long ago believed by the servants that a mysterious lady in black occasionally walked at dead of night in a certain passage near to the attics; and likewise that the cellar had been occupied by an ill-favoured bird like a raven, which would sometimes pounce upon any person who ventured to approach a cask for drink, and having extinguished the candle with a horrid flapping of wings, would leave its victim prostrated with fright. A similar legend prevails at Leigh Court. A solution has been given to this legend, however, which would imply a little cunning selfishness on the part of the domestics who had the care of the ale and cider depôt.