The Manor of Woodstock was haunted in 1649 by an apparition described by several witnesses whose narratives may be found in Dr. Plott's "Natural History of Oxfordshire."
Commissioners took up residence at the Manor House on 13 October, 1649, but heard nothing of the ghost until three days later when "there came, as they thought, somewhat into the bedchamber (where two of the commissioners and their servants lay), in the shape of a dog, which, going under their beds, did as it were gnaw their bed cords, but on the morrow finding them whole and a quarter of beef, which lay on the ground, untouched they began to entertain other thoughts." On the following day, the 17th, some evil spirit hurled the chairs and stools up and down the Presence Chamber, "from whence it came into the two chambers where the commissioners and their servants lay and hoisted their beds' feet so much higher than their heads that they thought they should have been turned over and over; and then let them fall down with such force, that their bodies rebounded from the bed a good distance."
The next day also a mysterious visitor appeared to be present, which fetched the warming-pan out of the withdrawing-room and made so much noise "that they thought five bells could not have made more." On the 20th and 21st of October various phenomena occurred, and then came a respite until the 25th, on the night of which, amongst other curious sounds and sights, there was "a very great noise as if forty pieces of ordnance had been shot off together." Peace was restored until the 1st of November when "something came into the withdrawing-room, treading, as they conceived, much like a bear, which at first only walked about a quarter of an hour: at length it made a great noise about the table and threw the warming-pan so violently, that it quite spoiled it. It threw also glass and great stones at them again, and the bones of horses, and all so violently that the bedstead and walls were bruised by them." This night they set candles all about the rooms, and made great fires up to the mantle-trees of the chimneys, but all were put out, nobody knew how. Nor was this all. For in spite of the fact that one of the commissioners had the boldness to ask in the name of God what it was, what it would have, and what they had done, that they should be disturbed in this manner, and the questions, although evoking no answer, caused a temporary cessation of noise, it returned bringing seven devils worse than itself. Whereupon one of the watchers lighted a candle and set it between two rooms in the doorway, on which another of them "fixing his eyes saw the similitude of a hoof, striking the candle and candlestick into the middle of the bedchamber and afterwards making three scrapes on the snuff to put it out. Upon this the same person was so bold as to draw his sword, but he had scarce got it out, when there was another invisible hand had hold of it too, and tugged with him for it and prevailing, struck him so violently with the pummel that he was stunned with the blow."
This was too much, and two days later the commissioners and their men removed out of the house, unable to stand the strain they were undergoing any longer.
An apparition of a lady in the form of a colt is somewhat unusual, but has been seen, if we may believe the statement of a woman called Sarah Mason. Sarah also saw the ghost of a man who hanged himself and came back afterwards in the form of a large black dog.
The story of Obrick's Colt[159] concerned a lady who was buried with all her jewels and whose corpse was afterwards robbed by the clerk. She haunted the spot, it was said, in the shape of a colt, and the guilty clerk, meeting the phantom animal late one night in a narrow lane, went down on his knees, and said earnestly, "Abide, Satan, abide. I am a righteous man and a psalm-singer." The clerk was called Obitch or Holbeach, from which the ghost is supposed to have taken the name of Obrick's Colt. An old woman in the village declared that "Obitch used to say that he saw the colt as natural as any Christian, and he used to get up against the stile for him to get up on top of his back, and at last the colt grew so bold that folks saw him in the daytime." Holbeach, if that was his real name, never again knew peace of mind on this earth.
On the 21st of January, 1879, a labourer had taken some luggage from one Shropshire village to another, and on the return journey, his horse being tired, he reached a canal bridge some way from home about ten o'clock at night. To his horror a huge black creature with gleaming white eyes jumped out of the hedge and settled on the horse's back. He beat at the phantom with his whip, which, to his astonishment, instead of meeting with resistance went through the apparition. The terrified horse broke into a canter and tore home with the strange creature clinging to his back.
The adventure was much discussed in the neighbouring villages, and some days later the labourer's master was called upon by a policeman who had somehow got knowledge of an account that he had been robbed when crossing the canal bridge in question late one evening. The policeman was told there had been no robbery, and a version of the tale as it had happened was given him.
"Was that all?" he cried in disappointed tones. "I know what that was. It was the man-monkey, sir, as does come at that bridge ever since a man was drowned in the canal at that spot."[160]
The following story was told to Bérenger-Feraud[161] and happened at a country house on the plateau of the Garde near to Toulon. One evening a woman was sitting by the side of her father who had been lying dangerously ill in bed for some days with a disease which the doctors could not identify. The neighbours came in to offer their services, to keep watch over the sick man so that his daughter, who had spent several nights without any sleep, could go and lie down to rest. She thanked them but refused to do so.