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A
SHORT time previous to the mortal’s death, and
when just on the eve of dissolution, the ghost undergoes a striking
revolution in his appearance and habits. Seized with the
locked jaw,
and all the other disabilities common to the
dead, he then becomes the awful emblem of death in all its similitudes.
Attired in a shroud, and all the ensigns of the grave, the ghost
nocturnally proceeds to the, narrow house of his future residence, and
there disappears. He is lighted on his way by a pale azure-coloured light
of the size of that emitted by a tallow candle, which is of a
flickering unsteady nature, sometimes vivid, and sometimes faint, as the
mortal inhales and respires his breath; and, in his course towards the
grave, he will follow minutely the line of march destined to be followed
by his earthly partner’s approaching funeral. His pace is slow, and his
footsteps imperceptible even to a passenger; who, although he sees clearly
all his trappings, cannot discern his mode of travelling. To the naked eye
the ghost’s visage is not discernible by reason of the face-cloth..
There is a very simple process, however, which has been discovered for
enabling a spectator to discern whose ghost he is, although we never heard
of more than one person who had the hardihood to
put the experiment in practice.
It is an admitted fact, in those
countries, that a ghost may be recognised, in the appearance of his human
partner, on his passing a spectator, by the latter’s reversing the cuff of
his own coat, or any
other part of his raiment, which puts an
instant stop to the ghost’s career, and clearly exposes him to the
recognition of the courageous experimenter.
A sage philosopher, who
had
long desired an opportunity of practising this bold
experiment, found, "late one night," when returning home from a market, a
very convenient one. Observing a stout lusty ghost stalking very
majestically along the public road, this bold adventurer hesitated not a
moment. Clapping himself into a defensive attitude, he reversed his
cuff—when, lo! his next-door neighbour’s wife was instantly confronted to
his face—clad in death’s awful apparel—.the death-candle lowing in her
throats and mouth full distended. Such an exhibition was too appalling to
wish for a long interview; and, accordingly, Donald Doul, the adventurer,
made a motion to be off, but in vain. The unhappy man, as if transformed
into a stone, could no more move than Lot’s wife, and was obliged to stand
confronted to his loving companion, both equally sparing of their talk,
until the crowing of the cock in the morning. Finding himself then
released from his uncomfortable stance, he was about to make the best of
his way home, to communicate the result of his experiment, when the
friendly wife’s ghost thus addressed him: "Donald Doul—Donald Doul—.Donald
Doul - hear me, and tremble. Great is the hindrance you have caused me
this night,—a hindrance for which you should have been severely punished,
but for the friendship which formerly subsisted between yourself and my
partner. Dare not again to pry into the mysteries of the dead. The time
will come when you’ll know those secrets." To this poetical harangue
Donald Doul made no other reply than a profound obeisance. It is possible,
however, the ghost would have proposed a rejoinder, had not a chanticleer,
in the adjacent hamlet, emitted his third clarion, at the magic sound of
which the wife’s ghost fairly-took to her heels, leaving Donald Doul to
resume his course homewards without further advice. Satisfied of the
interesting nature of the occurrence, and that his reputation for courage
and veracity would suffer no diminution from the relation, Donald Doul
made no secret of what happened. This clearly foretold what speedily took
place, the dissolution of the neighbour’s wife, (who, by the way, was
dangerously ill at the time,) to the great grief of her husband, and the
credit of Donald Doul’s name.
A short time after the ghost,
bearing the death-candle, has thus been seen, the house of the undertaker,
who is to make the mortal's coffin, will be nightly disturbed by the
sounds of saws, and knocking of hammers; no doubt, proceeding from the
ghost of the undertaker and his assistants preparing the coffin of the
ghost; while invisible messengers will parade the country for necessaries,
for the ghost’s funeral, or foregoing. And a very imposing and interesting
spectacle may be looked for.
The mortal resigns his breath, and
is about to follow the course of the dead-candle to his new abode, when
Taish via Tialedh,
or the funeral foregoing, takes the road. This is not a
paltry spectacle of one ghost, a sight so common in those countries, but a
superb assemblage of them, all drest in their best attire, each reflecting
lustre on the other. On this occasion, the ghost of every man, who is
destined to accompany the mortal’s funeral, will attend, dressed in
apparel of the same colour, and mounted on a horse of the same appearance,
(if he is to have one,) as his mortal companion on the day of the
corporeal interment. On this occasion, too, their characteristic austerity
of manners is dispensed with. Mellowed, no doubt, by the generous
qualities of the Usquebaugh, the jocund laugh, the jest, and
repartee, go slapping round, responsive to some mournful dirge proceeding
from the defunct’s immediate friends and relations.
In the motley group, the ghost of a
father or brother is easily recognised by his well-known voice and Sabbath
vestment. Nay, the spectator may even recognise himself, if his senses
enable him to discriminate, joyous or sorry, as occasion suggests, mingled
in the throng. In the middle of the procession the coffin is seen,
containing, we presume, the dead ghost, circled by mourning
relatives; and on the front, flanks, and rear of the burden, the company
are likewise seen approaching and retiring, relieving each other by turns.
At length, the noise of horses and tongues, horsemen and footmen,’ mingled
indiscriminately together, closes the procession.
The following account of the
foregoing of the funeral of an illustrious chief, who died some few
score of years ago, (witnessed by a man whose veracity was a perfect
proverb,) will not, we trust, be unacceptable:
"A smith, who had a large family to
provide for, was often necessitated to occupy his smithy till rather a
late hour. One night, in particular, as he was turning the key of his
smithy door, his notice was attracted to the public road, which lay
contiguous to the smithy, by a confusion of sounds, indicative of the
approach of a great concourse of people. Immediately there appeared the
advanced ranks of a procession, marching four men deep, in tolerable good
order, unless occasionally some unaccountable circumstance occasioned the
fall of a lusty fellow, as if he had been shot by a twenty-four pounder.
Thunderstruck at the nature and number of the marvellous procession, the
smith, honest man, reclined his back to the door, witnessing a
continuation of the same procession for nearly an hour, without
discovering any thing further of the character of those who composed it,
than that they betokened a repletion of the Usquebaugh. At length,
the appearance of the hearse, and its awful ensigns, together with the
succeeding line of coaches, developed the nature of the concern.
It was then that the smith’s knees began to
smite each other, and his hair to stand on an end. The recent demise of
his venerable chieftain confirmed his conviction
of its being a Taish, and a very formidable one too. Not choosing
to see the rear, he directed his face homewards, whither he fled with the
swiftness of younger years, and was not backward in favouring his numerous
acquaintances with a full and particular account of the whole scene. This
induced many honest people to assume the smithy door as their stance of
observation on the day of the funeral, which took place a few days after;
and, to his honour be it told, every circumstance detailed by the smith in
his relation accurately happened, even to the decanting of two dogs, and
this established the smith’s veracity in all time thereafter."
Akin to this are all the relations
of those good people, whose evil destiny
it has been to fall
in with those ghostly processions, some of whom having inadvertently
involved themselves into the crowd, were repulsed in every attempt to
extricate themselves, until carried along, nobody knows how far, by the
tumultuous rabble, who seemed to enjoy themselves vastly at the standing
hair, protruding eyes, and awry visage of the unconscious intruder.
In concluding this part of our
subject, it is hardly necessary to add, that in two or three days after
the ghostly procession, the human or corporeal procession will succeed
it, following
most minutely and accurately every course, winding, and turn taken by the
foregoing, while the dress, conversation, and every other incident
attending the company will be precisely the same. |
