Editor’s Note: An interesting account where a ghost/boggart/dobbie emerges from legend in a frightening encounter on a night-time road

Between Bolton-le-Sands and Carnforth, on the road side, is situated a house having the reputation of being haunted, and has ever, within the memory of that oft quoted personage ‘the oldest inhabitant’, been known by the appellation of the ‘boggart house’. Various are the conjectures respecting the manner in which this lonely dwelling received the distinction; but on one point all agree, that at some time or other it has been the theatre where some ‘deed of darkness’ has been enacted. That ‘murder most foul’ has been committed within its precincts, and the perturbed spirit of the victim is permitted for a time to visit the ‘pale glimpses of the moon, making night hideous.’ Many a one, in passing this dreaded spot upon hearing the slightest sound, the faintest rustling of the trembling leaves, has felt a curious sensation run down his back and ooze out at his toes, and not a few who had great pretensions to fearlessness when coming into immediate proximinity with the ‘boggart house,’ have felt themselves compelled to ‘whistle to bear there courage up.’ Numerous are the forms in which this supernatural agent presents itself, sometimes as a headless soldier, a gigantic sheep, or monster goose. Often does his ghostship play fastastic [sic] tricks, such as only appertain to the denizens to another and unknown world, such as acting the part of an invisible glazier, taking out panes of glass and throwing them down on the floor without injury, &c. For a short time back his ghostship has been better behaved, confining himself within his own ‘ceremenents’, and never disturbing sublunary mortals with ‘things above the reaches of there [sic] souls.’ However, last week the ‘dobby’ again made its appearance much to the terrot of an inoffensive carter, who was proceeding on this way to Kendal market. This occurrence has been a rich theme during the past week for the gossip mongers at Bolton, and the neighbourhood, and has been the all-engrossing topic of conversation. The carter to which we have above alluded was on his way to Kendal market, with a load of wheat, shortly after the witching hour of night, ‘when church yards yawn,’ and had proceeded as far as the immediate vicinity of the ‘boggart house’, when his horse suddenly stopped and appeared much frightened. On looking to ascertain the cause, he perceived as he imagined a large sheep lying in the middle of the road, towards which he proceeded with the intention of applying his whip to force its removal. He struck, the blow fell upon vacancy, the supposed sheep aroused itself and as if with indignity at the insult, swelled out as the man affiamrs, into the size of a house, and then giving hima  look of inaffable contempt flew away in a flame of fire. The poor carter was petrified, the chattering of his teeth almost rivaled in noise the bone-playing of the celebrated ‘Juba,’ his knees shook, and his legs refused to perform their office. How long he remained in this condition he is unable to state, but the fright had such an effect upon his nerves as to make him seriously unwell and he has not since recovered [from] the shock, and his legs refused to perform their office. How long he remained in this condition he is unable to state, but the fright had such an effect upon his nerves as to make him seriously unwell and he has not since recovered the shock although we have no faith in these supernatural visitations. It must be admitted that the poor man, from the state he was in, had seen something which dreadfully alarmed him. Perhaps on the previous evening he had been partaking took freely of the ‘barley bree,’ and his heated imagination magnificed the apparition. ‘Ghost Story’, Lancaster Gazette (25 January 1851), 5