IT would, perhaps, be difficult to find in all England a tract of country of which so many wild stories of ghosts and boggarts are told as the old common land of Godley Green, and the picturesque cloughs and dingles which surround it. Some interesting old farmsteads still stand on and near the “Green,” and there were in former times others still more quaint, which have disappeared before the march of time. Concerning most of these homesteads, ghost tales are told; indeed, one old native of Godley recently declared that “there were more boggarts at Godley Green than anywhere else in the kingdom.” And perhaps this statement is true.
Most of the stories are old tales, which have been handed down from former generations, no living being laying claim to any personal experience of the boggarts referred to. But in one or two cases the boggarts are said to be still haunting the scenes of their former exploits; and people still living claim to have actually seen the ghosts, as well as heard about them. The present story belongs to the latter class.
There is a certain house in that part of the township of Godley known as the Green, which is said to be haunted by a boggart in the shape of an old lady, who formerly belonged to the house. The legend is not very precise as to the cause of her unrest, but it is said that she did certain things in her lifetime the memories of which will not allow her to rest quietly in her grave. Accordingly, her ghost wanders about the house and grounds, occasionally startling people by its appearance, and its peculiar actions.
One old lady—still alive—gives some graphic details of the boggart. She at one time resided in the house but now she has removed to a distance.
“Many a time,” says she, “I have seen ‘Old Nanny’—the boggart—wandering about after dark. She is generally outside the house, but occasionally peeps in at the windows. I can remember the old woman during her lifetime, and the boggart is just like her. She wears an old-fashioned cap, and a skirt kilted or tucked up in the old-fashioned style. She wears an apron, which she shakes, and makes a peculiar hissing noise. There is a gate leading from the garden into a meadow and I have seen the boggart standing there, waving her apron, and saying, ‘Ish, ish, ish.’”
“On one occasion a relative of the old dame, was present, and saw the boggart. ‘It’s owd Nanny,’ said he, ’reet enough. Why the d—— can’t she rest quiet in her grave. What does she want frightening people like that.’”
Another night a serving man was ordered to go into the back garden, and gather a quantity of rhubarb. He was gone a short time, and then he rushed back to the house with blanched face, and terror in his countenance.
“What is the matter?” asked his mistress; “where is the rhubarb?”
“It’s where it mun stop, missus, for me,” he replied. “I’ve had enough of rhubarb getting in that garden.”