Local Ghost
Scares
In entering the cloudland of folk-lore, one is constrained
to refer to a few of the many ghost stories current
in Ashton in times past, many of which are vouched for
as being accurate by several old Ashton worthies.
Weird Traditions
of Ashton Old Hall
There are few old halls destitute of weird traditions,
nor was Ashton Old Hall an exception. One of many ghost
stories was told, says HIGSON, by an old man who formerly
lived in one of the cottages close by, and was to the
effect that he had frequently after dark seeing haggard
apparitions, smeared with gore, the shades, as he believed,
of victims of olden time, unjustly imprisoned in the
dungeons, and then put to death.
When Sir Ralph de Assheton occupied Ashton
Old Hall, in the time of Henry VI, it was an age of
witchcraft and superstition. The following story is
related in connection with a Yuletide feast held at
the Old Hall.
Whilst the revelry was going on, a shrewd
conjecture went abroad that some malicious imp of darkness
had been let loose. Yet was it looked upon as an unusual
occurrence upon Yule night, when these disturbers were
supposed to be prevented from walking the earth, being
confined for a space to their own kingdom. The termagant
(A boisterous brawler or bully, especially a woman –
Ed) was a little broad-set figure wearing a mask, intended
as a representation of his Satanic Majesty, adorned
with a pair of horns, and a black cloak, from which
protruded a tail.
Sir Ralph, the revellers hoped, would
be able to master aught in the shape of mortal or immortal
intelligence. When Sir Ralph made his appearance, clad
in his usual suit of black velvet, he was received with
a great show of humility, and all made their obeisance.
”Now braves, to your sport. Ye be
as doleful as a pack of pedlars with a full basket after
a fair. I will make ye play and be merry too, or, ye
shall taste of the mittens,” quoth Sir Ralph.
Up trotted the imp, and irreverently crept
behind Sir Ralph, and laying hold of the tail of the
knight’s cloak, twisted it round his arm, and
by a sudden jerk this dignified personage was brought
backwards upon the floor. The knight’s wrath was
almost too great for utterance. When he got up he laid
hold of a tough cudgel and pursued the luckless emissary
of the Evil One, roaring and foaming with his unusual
exertion.
But the original cause of the mischief
generally contrived to mingle the revellers, who in
vain tried to rid themselves of his company. Often the
knight made a terrible blow, but shot inside of the
mark, bringing down the innocent and unoffending victims.
Yet, he of the horns and tail, by some
chance or another, always passed uninjured, a hideous
laugh accompanying the adroit contrivance by which he
eluded the cudgel. The hall was now but scantily supplied
with guests, the number having been reduced to some
half-score. – “Hold, ye lubberly rascals
– ye recreant – why do ye run?” said
the ancient knight. “Bring hither that limb of
Satan, and ye shall depart everyone to his home.”
His Satanic Majesty had gotten himself
perched on the projecting ledge by the gallery, whence
they were either unable or unwilling to dislodge him.
“How!” said the knight, “Ye are afraid,
cowards, I trow. (To trust, to believe – Ed) Now
will I have at thee for once.” This threat was
followed by a blow aimed at the devoted representative
of the infernal court, but it failed to dismount him,
and another and more contemptuous laugh announced this
failure.
Then there issued a thin squeaking voice
from underneath the disguise. “The heriot, Sir
Ralph, the heriot!” (A fine due the lord of a
manor on the death of a tenant, originally his best
beast or chattel – Ed)
Had a thunderbolt fallen at his feet the
knight could not have been more terrified. He let the
weapon fall, his hands dropped powerless, and, with
a look of horror on his face, he hastily departed from
the hall, leaving the enemy in undisputed possession.
It turned out that the imp was the son
of a poor widow, unable to pay the customary heriot
to the liege lord, who thereupon ordered it to be wrenched
from her by taking her only cow. The following day the
widow’s heriot was sent back.
Parish Churchyard
Ghost Story
A well-known gentleman, now living, vouches for the
accuracy of the following ghost story: An Ashton woman
who was troubled with a drunken husband adopted a ruse
of curing him of his bad habits of coming home in the
“wee sma’ hours” of the morning. Her
brother made himself up as a ghost, intending to give
the husband a fright.
At that time there was a public roadway,
open night and day, leading along what was known as
Flag Alley, opposite the Arcade, across the Parish Churchyard,
and down Anne’s Brow. The drunken husband was
sauntering across the churchyard about one o’clock
in the morning, hiccoughing and singing “I winna
go home till morning.” Suddenly there arose from
behind a tombstone a ghostly looking figure.
”Hello! Who art theaw?” said
the wayward husband, at the same time poising himself
on his toes and peering through his half-close eyelids
at the flimsily clad figure. “I’m th’
owd lad,” replied the ghost. “Eh, what!”
Why theaw’rt my wife’s brother, then? Give
us a wag o’ thi paw.”
The Bright-street
Ghost
Some excitement was caused for several weeks in Ashton
many years ago by what was known as the “Bright-street
ghost.” The windows of a house near the Cemetery
in Stalybridge-road were constantly being broken, but
the proprietor could not be discovered, and this affair
was for a time a mystery. Police were constantly on
the spot, and the inhabitants were greatly alarmed.
Two detectives secreted themselves in
the home on one occasion, and immediately the crash
of a stone was heard against the window they darted
outside and discovered that it was the son of the tenant
of the house who had caused the mischief.
Spring-heeled
Jack
The story of the ghost known as “Spring-heeled
Jack” will be fresh in the minds of many, the
incidents in connection therewith occurring about a
dozen years ago. This undesirable was for a time a pest
in the neighbourhood of St James’ Day School,
and got his name on account of the facility with which
he made himself scarce when confronted likely to give
him trouble. In fact, it was said at the time that he
had fitted springs on his shoes, so agile was he; and
it was said he was able to jump over walls and hedges
with the greatest leap.
He was a terror to women and little children,
and on many occasions when women were crossing the waste
ground near to St James’ School, on their way
to work, he would suddenly jump down from a wall or
building, and exclaim: