My wife, who was a confirmed disbeliever before our marriage, has long since thrown aside her scepticism, and for a good reason. She has had many startling proofs of the power the spirit has of making itself manifest. The night a near relative of mine died both she and I heard a loud crash on the panel of our bedroom door, and I, though I only, saw a hooded figure standing there. Also, besides having heard the banshee, my wife has seen objects moved by superphysical agency, seen them fanned by a wind that is apparently non-existing, had small stones and other articles thrown at her, and heard all sorts of queer, unaccountable sounds—laughs, sighs, and moans.
Three ghostly incidents have happened to me within the past twelve months. The first was in Red Lion Square. It was twilight; I was alone on the top floor of the house, and no one else was in the building, saving the daughter of the caretaker, who was in the basement. Suddenly footsteps, slow, ponderous footsteps, began to ascend the stairs—which, being uncarpetted and of oak, carried the sound—from the hall. Wondering who it could be, I called out. There was no reply, and the steps drew nearer. On the landing immediately beneath me they halted. I went out and looked down. No one was to be seen, and the steps immediately began to descend. I followed them right down—a few stairs behind—till they reached the hall, when they abruptly ceased. I learned afterwards that these footsteps were quite a common phenomenon in the house, which had long been haunted by them.
My second experience occurred in the Moscow Road, Bayswater. Feeling a heavy weight on my bed one night and wishing to remove it, I put out my hand. It was immediately seized and held in a warm grip. I sat up in bed, but could see no one. The hand that clasped mine was very soft and small—unmistakably that of a woman. I felt the wrist and forearm, but beyond the elbow there was nothing.
I was rather alarmed at this occurrence at the time, as I have a friend who died shortly after experiencing a similar phenomenon. In my case, however, the lady, whose hand I immediately identified as the hand that had clasped mine, and this lady solemnly declared that upon the same night—we compared dates—she had dreamed of a hand which was the exact counterpart of mine, and that, upon shaking hands with me that afternoon, she had been instantly reminded of her dream.
That there was nothing in common between us, her tastes and outlook on life being absolutely at variance with mine, makes the occurrence, in my opinion, none the less interesting, though somewhat difficult to account for.
My last experience occurred only a few days ago, as I was sitting on the stairs of a haunted house near Ealing. I had applied to the landlord for permission to spend the night there, and, pending his reply, had obtained the keys from the agent, in order to see what the house was like by daylight. Having just finished jotting down some notes—a memorandum of something I had suddenly thought of—I paused, still holding the pencil in my hand, whilst my note-book lay open on my knee. I had not sat thus for more than a minute, when, with a thrill of surprise, I felt the pencil suddenly taken from my hand, and, looking down, I distinctly saw it, of its own accord, scrawl right across my book. Whether what I afterwards found written in my note-book was written by the spirit that haunted the house, or by a projection of one of my own personalities, I cannot say; neither can I, myself, nor anyone to whom I have shown the symbolic writing, tell what it means. The appended is a facsimile.
I might add that this is my one and only experience of spirit-writing, and also that it was my one and only experience in the haunted house near Ealing, as I did not succeed in getting leave to spend a night there.
Although I must confess I have made little progress so far in my investigations, for my failure to decipher spirit-writing is not the only set-back that I have encountered, I still have hopes. I hope that some day, when I am brought face to face with the Unknown, in a haunted house or elsewhere, I may be able to hit upon some mode of communication with it, and discover something that may be of real service both to myself and to the rest of humanity.
If only I could overcome fear!