Mr. Wm. C. Gall, M.P.S. of Emsworth, Hants., sent me the following uncanny account of some kind of elemental, which could not be seen but that certainly made its presence known. “The first event happened in June, four years ago. I was typing out some notes for a lecture; my wife Eve, who had been crippled by a stroke and had only very recently returned home from hospital, was resting in an easy chair; her sister was in another chair near her; and Rufus, the dark grey Archangel cat, was lying on another chair near the fireplace. Suddenly he roused himself, started sniffing the air, and then, in a state of nervous excitement began to stalk something invisible to us, across the floor. Whatever it was, he followed it about the room for a while, watched it apparently climb up the side of the chair on which my wife was sitting, cross over her lap, and climb down the other side of the chair. By then I had left the table – which was at the other side of the room where I had been working – in order to watch the queer behaviour of Rufus. The cat continued to stalk the thing across the floor (from the direction of the cat’s gaze we judged its height to be about twelve inches), then round behind the dining-table where it was concealed from his sight owing to the unusual construction of the table-legs. Rufus appeared to be using his sense of smell as well as that of sight, and was continually sniffing the air. He began to creep out to a position from which he could see behind the table-legs, and then refused to approach nearer. I went up to him, speaking gently, as he was very disturbed. He was a picture of nervousness and curiosity, fascinated by what he saw and afraid of it at the same time. Then I tried to coax him nearer to where the creature seemed to be, but he resisted strongly, and as I thrust him closer he suddenly spat and struck out with his paws at something just in front of his face. At the same time, his fur stood up on end, his tail bushed out, and his whole body tensed for action. This was most unusual, for a gentler and less belligerent cat never existed. Nothing would induce him to go nearer, so we left him alone. After a while, the creature appeared to cross back down the room, followed by Rufus at a respectful distance, to a position under a low coffee-table at the far end of the lounge. When I tried once again to get Rufus nearer the creature, he spat as before, leapt high into the air right across the coffee-table, and rushed out of the room which we could not get him to enter again that evening. Of course, we discussed this strange happening between ourselves, but, being unable to account for it, we christened the little creature ‘our gnome’ and left it at that. For a long time afterwards, Rufus was reluctant to use the room. In fact, he refused to go in for a week, and never entered it without a preliminary survey. He would stand in the doorway, sniffing the air and peering cautiously in all directions until he was satisfied that the creature was not present, before he would come into the room. However, no further happenings took place, and with the passing of time he seemed to forget all about it; but very recently there have been similar episodes. My wife is now confined to bed with severe paralysis caused by a second stroke, which occurred shortly after the events of which I have just written. In the circumstances, I naturally spend nearly all my spare time in her bedroom, doing all my work there whenever possible, and I decided to use again my very much neglected typewriter. As well as Rufus, we now have another cat – a little snow-white one rejoicing in the name of ‘Pinkie’ because of the pink tips to her ears and nose. Both cats are fond of sleeping on the carpet at the foot of my wife’s bed, enjoying the warmth of the electric fire, and they were there when I commenced typing. After a while, Rufus began to sniff the air and, with the same mixture of nervous excitement and curiosity as before, watched something go across the room close to the table where I was working, rise into the air to the top of the dressing-table and then float across the intervening space on to the bed where my wife was lying. I went to pick Rufus up and place him on the bed, but at the touch of my hand he leapt into the air and ran out of the open door on to the landing, where he hid behind a chair. Here he stayed, sniffing the air and watching the open doorway most intently. Presently the creature apparently moved out of the room and towards Rufus. He watched it approaching slowly closer and closer and then he spat out and gave a prodigious leap, which carried him over the chair and landed him about four steps down from the head of the stairs, from where he looked apprehensively about him. I went out, picked him up and tried to soothe him. He quietened down, so I carried him into the room and put him on the bed beside Eve so that she could continue to stroke and soothe him. He remained quiet for a little while and then he became alert and appeared to be looking at something climbing up over the end of the divan bed. It approached nearer and nearer to him when, without warning, he gave a great leap into the air right over my wife, to land on the floor on the far side of the bed, from where he watched the creature pass across the room to a waste-paper basket beside the dressing-table. I tried to get him to approach the basket but he resisted strongly and, when forced near it, he again struck out wildly with his claws at something apparently just in front of him, at which he was spitting and growling in an obvious state of fear. My sister-in-law came in just then, and she also tried to coax him to go nearer the waste-paper basket, but without success. Violently he attacked something there that was quite invisible to us, and he seemed only too glad to get out of the room. Pinkie, the white cat, who in all her ways is quite a common little thing compared with the aristocratic and lordly Rufus, looked on in amazement at these strange goings-on, and did not appear to be able to see the creature causing the trouble. However, a parrot, Polyanthus by name, who lives in a cage in the bedroom (she is an African Grey, an intelligent bird and great company for my wife), was an interested spectator of the incident. She obviously saw the creature, watched its comings and goings, and showed fear when it approached the neighbourhood of her cage. It was the best part of a week before Rufus would come into the room and settle down. He was in the room in his usual place when I next brought the typewriter upstairs. At the time he was fast asleep, but after I had been working for some time, he suddenly woke up and evinced all the signs of fear and excitement once again. This time there seemed to be something under the table at which I was working, and at the first opportunity Rufus made his escape from the room. It was only at this third episode that I realised that, whatever the creature was, it seemed to be connected with the typewriter. I do not use it very often, and it is only when the machine is in use that the creature seems to move abroad and disturb the cat. The origin and history of the typewriter I do not know. I purchased it second-hand about ten or eleven years ago from some acquaintances of a friend.” Marjorie Johnson, Seeing Fairies

Miss Katie Richardson had an experience in May, 1942, which was ‘so lovely and so wholly unexpected’, that it was often in her mind. It occurred in Lippin Wood in the village of West Meon, Hampshire, when she was 43 years old, and I quote her words: ‘I was taking a walk in this peaceful spot when suddenly, on reaching a shallow, saucer-like depression in the ground, flanked on one side by a tree, I saw a group of very disgruntled-looking little men engaged in tidying-up. They were collecting the tiny twigs and leaves (which I could scarcely see) and after sweeping them up with little brushes they placed the rubbish in a neat pile at one point of the hollow. If this surprised me it was nothing to what followed, which made me almost afraid to breathe, for from the proximity of the tree there appeared a number of fairies dancing about out of sheer happiness. They were from eighteen to twenty inches in height, and were dressed in varied shades of pink. One of them made a sign to the little men, who were standing apart from them, and a tiny round table and some chairs were brought and placed where the fairies directed. Next, the fairies produced a delightfully lacey table-cloth, and after shaking it out they spread it over the table. They then disappeared, and I wondered what was going to happen next, but in no time at all they appeared again, carrying between them a perfectly lovely-looking cake, a two-tier affair, with a most artistic decoration in icing. (As a professional cook, I’ve often longed to reproduce the design, but it’s beyond me and, I think, anyone else except the fairies.) When it was placed and, with a great deal of fuss, all was arranged to their liking, they disappeared once more, and this time when they reappeared it was as maids of honour and train-bearers to the Queen herself. She was taller than the others, and her dress was of a deeper shade of pink than theirs. The skirt of it was full, like a miniature crinoline, and covered her feet. She had a crown on her head, and carried what I can only describe as a wand. On reaching the table they all curtsied to her before taking their places. The cake seemed to me to be in the nature of a surprise for her, and she showed great pleasure at seeing it. When she cut it I saw that it was yet another shade of pink throughout.  Two pieces had been out, and I found myself wondering whether the little men would be given any, when I heard a very faint sound, at least, it was faint to my very acute hearing, but it was enough to send the fairies hurrying away and out of sight. In no time at all, the little men had whisked away the table and chairs and then they, too, had gone. Later on I saw the fairies again, but this time they were without their Queen. Before my experience in Lippin Wood, I’d had great doubts about the existence of fairies, but I’ve never doubted since. Marjorie Johnson, Seeing Fairies

Writing about the flower fairies in her garden, Mrs. D. Goddard of Hampshire wrote: “They are so tiny and luminous that the very air seems lighter as I sense them. They seem to me to have slight little bodies with gossamer wings. I feel they pass on some of their lovely colours to the flowers as they open, as one would paint the hues on a painting. They are too wonderful to describe in our language because the brilliance of their presence makes physical things only half beautiful in comparison. I feel they play an important part in God’s creation.” Marjorie Johnson, Seeing Fairies

Mr. J. Foot Young, the well-known water diviner, writes: ‘Some years ago I was one of a party invited to spend the afternoon on the lovely slopes of Okeford Hill, in the county of Dorset. The absence of both trees and hedges in this locality enables one to see without obstruction for long distances. I was walking with my companion, who lives in the locality, some little distance from the main party, when to my astonishment I saw a number of what I thought to be very small children, about a score in number, and all dressed in little gaily-coloured short skirts, their legs being bare. Their hands were joined, and all held up, as they merrily danced round in a perfect circle. We stood watching them, when in an instant they all vanished from our sight. My companion told me they were fairies, and that they often came to that particular part to hold their revels. It may be our presence disturbed them.(Doyle, Coming of the Fairies166)

Being brought up in the Isle of Man one breathed the atmosphere of superstition (if you like to call it) , the simple, beautiful faith of the Manx fisher folk, the child-like trust of the Manx girls, who to this day will not forget the bit of wood and coal put ready at the side of the fireplace in case the ‘little people’ call and need a fire. A good husband is the ultimate reward, and neglect in this respect a bad husband or no husband at all. The startling phenomena occurred on my journey home from Peel Town at night to St. Mark’s (where I was Incumbent) . After passing Sir Hall Caine’s beautiful residence, Greeba Castle, my horse — a spirited one — suddenly stopped dead, and looking ahead I saw amid the obscure light and misty moonbeams what appeared to be a small army of indistinct figures — very small, clad in gossamer garments. They appeared to be perfectly happy, scampering and trip- ping along the road, having come from the direction of the beautiful sylvan glen of Greeba and St. Trinian’s Eoofless Church. The legend is that it has ever been the fair- ies’ haunt, and when an attempt has been made on two occasions to put a roof on, the fairies have removed all the work during the night, and for a century no further attempts have been made. It has therefore been left to the ‘little people’ who claimed it as their own.  ‘I watched spellbound, my horse half mad with fear. The little happy army then turned in the direction of Witch’s Hill, and mounted a mossy bank; one ‘ little man’ of larger stature than the rest, about 14 inches high, stood at attention until all had passed him dancing, singing, with happy abandon, across the Valley fields towards St. John’s Mount. (Doyle, Coming of the Fairies, 155-156)