The Big Book of Canadian Hauntings. John Robert Colombo
Observer, August 15, 1873
For some days past the ghost, which, it is asserted, has been seen in the neighbourhood of the Court House, has been the talk of Whitby. The apparition, according to report, is seen under various forms — that of a black dog, which suddenly assumes the shape of a rather tall man, and from whose eyes burning red flames seem to issue, being the most familiar. Others assert that the ghost has been seen leaning with both hands on a staff standing on the Court House steps, or walking slowly between the steps and the entrance gate, at “the witching hour of night.” Those who have had the temerity to approach the midnight intruder allege that on their approach it has all at once disappeared as in a flame of fire, sinking, as it were, into the ground. Others say that the most sorrowful moaning has been heard to proceed from where the ghost makes itself at first visible, and in fact all sorts of versions are given as to what has been seen and heard of what people persist in calling the “Court House Ghost.” Last night a gathering assembled around the Court House railings, and remained there until nearly twelve o’clock to ascertain what could be seen, but at that hour hurried home to bed, cold and disappointed at the non-appearance of his ghostship. After the departure of the crowd, however, it is stated that the apparition was again seen by respectable and creditable people, that it was a tall figure walking heavily with a cane, and frequently stopping to look up at the sky, and groan while making its round wearily through the grounds in front of the Court House. There are, as may be expected, all sorts of surmises as to what the trouble is, and a determination avowed by many parties to find out all about it, and if it be a trick, to expose those who would impose this latest ghost hoax upon a community. — Whitby Chronicle.
The Devil Looking in at Parkhill — through the Bar Room Window — [From a Correspondent]
London Daily Advertiser, July 8, 1870
Allow me a little space in the columns of your valuable paper to describe one of the most fearful sights that ever was seen in this village, as witnessed by six or seven persons.
On the night of Thursday, June 30th, at about eleven o’clock at night, the inmates of a certain hotel in Parkhill were apparently enjoying themselves carousing, singing sacred songs, and having a regular jollification, when suddenly appeared at the bar room window a most fearful-looking object taking a look at them through the window, and more particularly at Mr. Hastings, who generally is styled “the deacon.” The size of this unnatural object was about two feet in length, and not quite as broad, covering nearly two large panes of glass; its body was smooth, having four arms or legs extended with long, slender claws, and a fifth leg emanating from its body, upon which it turned backwards and forwards on the window. Its head was rather small, but therein were placed two fiery eyes, which stared like fiery globes at the inmates of the bar room. One would think that the age of such unnatural visions had long ago passed away. The consternation and awe of the beholders of this object cannot adequately be described, particularly that of Hastings’s. To his horror he beheld two flaming eyes looking at him through the window. What to do in such a crisis he did not know, imagining that he was the object of pursuit, and feeling himself unprepared to accompany the old gentleman he took to his heels, and bound for the hall door, leading to the stairway; summoning all his strength and courage, the deacon with one or two such strides as he never before in his life had made, found himself at the top of a flight of stairs twenty feet long. But unfortunately for the deacon, he nearly lost his coat tail in his flight, it having come in contact with the railing. A dint of about an inch deep is said to have been left in the post.
The incident is all the talk in Parkhill; though there are those who profess to know that the object purposely placed at the window was much less formidable than the excited imagination of Hastings pictured it.
Free Press, Acton, Ontario, March 6, 1879
A stout Yorkshire farmer of the name of James Wreggit, having emigrated to Canada, settled himself and family on a good farm which he rented in one of the townships. He was considered fair-dealing and honourable in all transactions with his neighbours, and in every respect bore a most excellent character. In the farmer’s house was a first-floor sitting-room with a large fire-place. In this room the children slept, but from the first night evinced the greatest dislike to going to bed there, screaming with terror, and saying that a man was in the room with them. For a long time the parents paid no attention to their complaints. During harvest time a change was made, and the farmer himself slept in this room, as it was cooler and more convenient. The first night he slept there he was about to rise almost before the break of day, when, glancing towards the fire-place, he saw standing there a stranger of a dissipated drunken appearance. “Ha’lo! What’s thee doing there?” was his very natural exclamation. Receiving no reply, “Won’t thee speak? I’ll make thee speak!” and picking up one of his heavy boots from the bedside he was preparing to throw it at the intruder, when the man, suddenly raising his arm as if to ward off the blow, vanished in a moment from before his eyes. Wreggit, unable to get this matter of his head, brooded over it till the next day, when about noon he entered into conversation with a neighbour who was working with him, and asked him to describe the former tenant of the farm, who had died from excessive drinking. The description so entirely resembled the man he had seen in the room that he at once exclaimed, “I saw him last night!” Wreggit recounted this to some old friends near whom he had lived before taking the farm, and it is from the dictation of one of his auditors that I have written down this remarkable circumstance. At the time neither Wreggit nor his friend had the slightest belief in apparitions.
This account offers a view of a farming community in Ontario. It appeared in The Globe (Toronto), September 9, 1880. The incident took place near Crosshill, Wellesley Township, Ontario.
Remarkable Phenomena — The Windows of a Farmer’s Dwelling — Repeatedly Shattered to Pieces — And the Inmates Drenched with Water
WELLESLEY, Sept. 6. — A very extraordinary story having gained currency in this section of the country that Mr. George Manser, a very respectable and well-to-do farmer residing near the village of Crosshill, in the township of Wellesley, had with his family been driven out of his dwelling by the mysterious breaking of his windows and showering down of water in dry weather, your correspondent took occasion to-day to visit the place and interview Mr. Manser and his family in regard to the report in circulation. On approaching the house he noticed the windows, six in number, closed up with boards, which still further excited his curiosity and gave reason to believe that there must be some ground for the report.
The house I found to be a large one-and-a-half story hewed log building, rather old but in a very good state of repair, situated a short distance from the highway on the most elevated part of the farm. On stating the object of my visit Mr. Manser very kindly showed me through the building and gave me the following facts:
About a month or six weeks ago the glass in the windows began to break, several panes bursting out at a time. These were replaced with new ones only to meet the same fate. A careful examination was then made to ascertain the cause. It was at first supposed that the house being old and getting a little out of shape might affect the windows, but the sash was found to be quite easy and even loose in the frames. Then the family are surprised and put to flight with a shower of water, saturating their beds, their clothing, in fact everything in the house, whilst the sun is shining beautifully in the horizon, and outside all is calm and serene. Nothing daunted, Mr. Manser repairs to the village store and obtains a fresh supply of glass, and even tries the experiment of using some new sash, and utterly failing to discover the mysterious cause of either the breaking of the glass or the sudden showers of water, all taking place in broad day light. His neighbours are called in, and whilst they are endeavouring