A RESOURCEFUL GHOST.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 3844, 13 September 1928, Page 1

A RESOURCEFUL GHOST.

TALE OP A WIAYSIDE INN. NIGHT IN HAUNTED BEDROOM. NONAGENARIAN BOWLER’S STORY. A good ghost story was told by the principal actor, Mr. John Heslop, in the course of some reminiscences when the members of the New Plymouth Bowling Club entertained him in honour of his 90th birthday, which he celebrated on Thursday, (says an exchange). “At an early age,” said Mr. Heslop, “I decided to see the world, and with my swag and a little money I set off from my native Cheviot Hills, in Northumberland, to walk to Scotland. Toward the close of one day I arrived at a wayside inn and asked for a night’s lodging. This request the innkeeper refused, saying he had a party of rich Englishmen staying there. They were on a shooting expedition and all the beds, except one in a haunted room, were occupied. “I told the innkeeper I was not superstitious, so he said I could sleep in the haunted room if I wished. The innkeeper said the ghost had never been seen, but it had been heard at night making weird and blood-curdling whisperings in the room. However, unperturbed by the tale, I went to bed. “WEIRD WHISPERINGS.”

“In the meantime the shooting party had returned and had many a joke at my expense. They retired to a room and, throughout the night, were gambling hard and drinking merrily. They made such a din that, in the haunted room above I could not sleep. Then, in the early hours of the morning, I heard a strange.whispering. This gradually grew louder and more distinct. It was the ghost. I hardly dared to breathe.

“After what seemed an eternity, in which the weird whisperings did not cease, I plucked up courage. Jumping out of bed I approached the window, from near which the strange voice seemed to come. I halted; I listened; I looked. Still the voice moaned and whispered.

“Then, like a flash, I threw up the window and looked out. The myth was exploded. Outside the window was an old pear tree, trained against the window sill, moved by the breeze.

“I crept back to bed feeling very satisfied with myself at solving the mystery. 'The noise down below did not cease, and several times the merry voices shouted up and asked how’ the “clodhopper” was sleeping. An idea entered my head and once more I jumped out of bed. This time I wrapped a sheet around me and crept downstairs. PILE OF GOLD ON TABLE.

“I approached the gambling den and slowly opened the door. At the sight of the weird apparition that confronted them the gamblers let out a yell and dashed for another door. They left their cards, their wine and a pile of gold on the table. I made the best of the opportunity, seized the gold and hurried back to bed.

“At daybreak I was met by the trembling innkeeper, who told be that for the first time the ghost had been seen. Needless to say I lost no time in leaving the inn far behind me. Shortly afterwards I arrived? at Liverpool, where I caught a boat and came to New Zealand, landing here in 1857. I was then 19 years of age. “You may say it was a doubtful proceeding on my part, but the men were gambling and the pile of gold on the table went to the man who held the best hand. Some held kings and some held queens, but I—well, ] held the joker.”