In the course of a few weeks, there was a funeral from the opposite parish of Penstrowed, and the departed was to be buried in Aberhafesp Church yard. The River Severn runs between these two parishes, and there is no bridge nearer than that which spans the river at Caersws, and to take the funeral that way would mean a journey of more than five miles. It was determined, therefore, to ford the river opposite Aberhafesp Church. The person who had fallen asleep in the porch volunteered to carry the coffin over the river, and it was placed on the saddle in front of this person, who, to save it from falling, was obliged to grasp it with both arms; and, as the deceased had died of an infectious fever, the coffin bearer was stricken, and within a week he too was a dead man, and he was the first parishioner, as foretold by the Spirit, who died in the parish of Aberhafesp that year.
According to Croker, in Fairy Legends of Ireland, vol. II., p. 288, the Irish at Easter, Whitsuntide, and Christmas, after decorating the graves of their ancestors:—“Also listen at the church door in the dark, when they sometimes fancy they hear the names called over in church of those who are destined shortly to join their lost relatives in the tomb.”
It is not difficult to multiply instances of Spirits speaking in churches, for legendary stories of this kind were attached to, or were related of, many churches in Wales. One further tale therefore, shall suffice.
A Spirit in Llangerniew Church, Denbighshire.
There was a tradition in this parish that on All-Hallows’ Eve a Spirit announced from the altar the names of those who were doomed to die in the coming year. The Spirit was locally called Angelystor. Those who were anxious to know whether they or their neighbours had a longer time to live stood underneath the east window on that eve, and anxiously listened for the dreaded revelation. It is related of a tailor, who was reckoned a wit, and affected disbelief in the Spirit story, that he announced his intention to prove the thing a myth, and so, one Nos G’lan Geua’, Shon Robert, as he was called, proceeded to the church just before midnight, and, to his horror, he heard his own name—“Shon ap Robert,” uttered by the Spirit. “Hold, hold!” said the tailor, “I am not quite ready!” But, ready or not ready, it made no difference to the messenger of death, for that year the tailor died.
According to rustic opinion, demons were, from sinister motives, much given to frequenting churches; still it was thought that as the Priest entered the sacred building by the south door these Spirits were obliged to make their exit through the north door, which was called in consequence the Devil’s Door; and this door was opened, and left open
awhile, to enable these Evil Spirits to escape from the church, before divine service commenced. In agreement with this notion, the north side of church yards was designated the Domain of Demons, and, by association of ideas, no one formerly was buried in this side, but in our days the north part of the church yard—where the space in the other parts has already been occupied—is used for interments, and the north doors in most old churches have been built up.
Formerly, at baptisms, the north church door was, in Wales, left open, and that too for the same reason that it was opened before the hours of prayer. But these superstitions have departed, as intimated by the blocking up of north church doors.
Satan and Bell Ringing.
Durand, according to Bourne, in his Antiquities of the Common People, ed. 1725, p. 17, was of opinion that Devils were much afraid of bells, and fled away at the sound of them. Formerly, in all parts of Wales, the passing bell was tolled for the dying. This is a very ancient custom being alluded to by the Venerable Bede—