Once upon a time a spirit came at midnight and knocked at the door of a farmhouse known as Tan-yr-Eglwys, which is close to Blaenporth Church. “Who is there?” enquired the farmer from his bed. “Mair Wen (white Mary) of Blaenporth,” was the reply; “the silver communion cup has been stolen from the church.” Then the spirit begged the farmer to get up from bed and proceed at once on a journey to the town of Cardigan, as the man who had committed such sacrilegious act was resting that night on a sofa in a certain public house in that town with the silver cup under his waistcoat. The farmer went to Cardigan, and when he arrived at the public house named by the spirit, and entered a certain room, a strange man who was lying on the sofa got up, and the stolen cup from under his waistcoat fell to the floor. The farmer took it up in an instant, and returned with all speed to Blaenporth, and placed the sacred vessel in the church once more. For his kindness and trouble in thus restoring the sacred cup, the good spirit or guardian angel of Blaenporth Church told the farmer that the bell would toll three times before his death, and before the death of his descendants till the ninth generation.
A REMARKABLE ACCOUNT OF KNOCKING AND WAILING BEFORE DEATH.
A few miles from Newcastle Emlyn there is a farmhouse called Pen’rallt-hebog, which is situated in the parish of Bettws-Evan, in Cardiganshire.
Besides Pen’rallt-hebog there is also—or there was—another house on the same farm known as Pen’rallt-Fach. And there lived at this Penrallt-fach about 25 years ago a tailor named Samuel Thomas, and his wife.
About that time a very strange incident occurred, and the following account of it was given me by Mr. S. Thomas himself an intelligent middle-aged man who is still alive I believe.
One morning, very early, Thomas beard a knocking at the door of his bedroom, and he enquired from his bed “who is there?” but there was no reply, and everything was quiet again.
The next morning again he heard knocking at the door, though not the bedroom door this time, but the front door of the house. My informant exclaimed from his bed, “Alright, I am getting up now.” But when he did get up, and opened the door, not a single soul could be seen anywhere. Thomas was quite surprised, and perplexed as to who could have come to disturb him at five o’clock in the morning, two mornings one after the other, and disappear so mysteriously. No voice had been heard, nor the sound of footsteps, only a knocking at the door. After this there was no further knocking for some time.
Twelve months to the very day after this a brother of Thomas who lived in some other part of the country came on a visit, and to spend a day with him, and this was in the first week of January, 1883. Some day during this week the two brothers went out with their guns to shoot some game, but soon returned to the house again, and in the evening Thomas went to his workshop to do some “job”; but as he was busily engaged in making a suit of clothes, he heard a knocking at the window quite suddenly—two knocks. He thought that some friend outside wanted to call his attention to something; but when he looked at the window there was no one to be seen After a while the knocking went on again, and continued for about ten minutes.
The second night the knocking at the window continued as the previous evening between ten and eight o’clock, but nothing was to be seen.