phantom horse (1928)
DESCRIPTION
Sunday Times 1928 (Feb 19)TRANSCRIPT
Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 - 1930), Sunday 19 February 1928, page 14
National Library of Australia http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article122808199
PHANTOM HORSE CLIMBS THROUGH A WALL
TRAIL OF DISASTER
The road to the Federal city
which stretches from Goulburnto Queanbeyan, is a fine andnoble artery.
Side tracks off this, however, leadto remote and little-known hamlets,which, nestling under the mountains,seem to reck little of modern progress,and are content to bask in the glorious
If you follow one of these little
tracks, along which only one vehicle
may pass comfortably at the came time,
you will come to Crosbie.
Crosbie is rather a pretentious old
etone house built with all the solidity
of the last century and convict labor.
It is after the old English style of
architecture'?- solid, roomy and com
fortable.
John Smithers, the original owner,thought that the spot he had selected
on his arrival in Australia looked so
much like his native Kent that he set
about making it even more so. Tallpoplars make a shady avenue.
Silver birch.es, stately larches, andelms toss their heads at the penitentwillows which mark the course of thecreek not far from the house and hawthorn hedges mark off little pocketbandkerchief paddocks until the illusion of rural England is complete.
John imported some excellent sheepfrom England, and these waxed fat andmultiplied, bringing, if not wealth, at
least a comfortable living to himand his family of six sturdy young Australians.
Something that John brought from
England that he would rather have left
behind, however, was the curse of
Crosbie.In the old English home in the Kent
ish hills, from whence John came, not to
have a family ghost was almost as greata social faux pas as eating peas with
a knife.
The Smithers were a branch of a
wealthy family, who, if not 'county,'were held in high esteem by all.
The curse of Crosbie was an oldstanding superstition that every
second or third generation would bevisited by a scries of violent deaths.
John's grandfather had been killed
John's grandfather had been killed
in the hunting field.
His brother was shot by a
poacher, and several relatives hadfallen under the curse before
Smithers decided to seek his for
tune in Australia.
Arrived here, he took up land_,
and
named his new home Crosbie, after theold.
He worked hard and prospered for
many years until he thought of theCrosbie curse as some old myth whichmade fine talk for grandmothers around
the fire of a wintry night, but that was
nil. So it was forgotten.The return of the long-forgotten oc
curred in a sensational manner.
During the early part of this century,
Smithers, finding he had outgrown his
area, and thinking, of providing for*his
sons and daughters, then growin'g up,
took up further land adjoining his own
under leasehold.
Later he added still further to his
holding, and it was about this time
that a sensational accident occurred.
John went to Goulburn on business
concerning this land. Ho arranged
matters with the Crown land agent
very satisfactorily, and was seen in
Goulburn by friends, who congratulated
him on Ms luck. That was the last
time he was seen alive.
The members of the family at Crosbie
were seated in the big dining-room after
tea. The mother was sewing, one of
the older boys was mending a gun, two
others were lolling about after a hard
day's work.
They were expecting the father ? to
arrive at any moment.
The measured canter of a horse was
heard drumming softly in the distance.
One of the boys went to the door to
welcome his father.
There was a jingle of a bridle, then
the opening and closing of a gate.
The listeners could hear the creak as
the gate swung back on rusty hinges.
The horse was urged into a gentle
canter again. By this time the whole
family had gathered on the wide veran
dah. The moon rose clear and full
dah. The moon rose clear and full
over the tall poplars which bordered
the drive up to the house, and a horse,
coal black and fiery, came swinginground the bend of the drive.
Its accoutrements glistened like
frosted silver in the monolight, but it
was riderless.
The wife caught her breath in
anguish.
There had been an accident, she was
sure.
The youngsters stood by, nonplussed.
The horse came on, still at the
same pace, right up to the steps,
and, neither swerving to right or
left, seemed to rise up and go right
through the house.
Thinking it was a fright-mad- ^
dened animal, the watchers ex
pected to hear a terrific crash, but
the animal made never a sound.
Awestruck and dumbfounded,
they listened, when sharp and clear
on the still night air came the
measured beat of a canterinc horse
on the other side of the building.
HE HAD GONE RIGHT
THROUGH THE HOUSE.
The boy who had been cleaning and
reloading his rifle was the first to re
gain his senses.
He rushed to the back of the house
and fired at the black bulk of a retreat
ing horse which was cantering
measuredly into the distance.
They watched it spellbound, and saw
it disappear into the night.
Next morning' the dead body of
John Smithers was found five miles
along the road.
He bad evidently been thrown
heavily from his horse, but there was
no sign of his horse or anything that
would cause an accident of the soit.
The corner's verdict was death by
misadventure but Mrs. Smithers, who
went back to Crosbie, thought dif
ferently.
The tale of what they had seen madesuch improbable telling in the daytime that the family members even be
gan to think that they must have beendeluded themselves so they spoke vciy
little of it to anyone. ©The months lengthened into years,
and the episode was almost forgottenwhen it was brought back into memory
again with startling suddenness.
One night the eldest boy was expectedto return home. It was about eighto'clock and a bright moonlight night.
As they sat waiting softly in the dis
As they sat waiting softly in the dis
tance came the drumming of hoofsalong the dusty road.
There was the sound of a gate being opened, and the noise of it swinging back on rusty hinges.
A little later came the sounds of
the horse cantering up the drive.
The mother sprang to her feet in
terror — Eric the boy rode a motor bike
In fact since his father's death he
could not be persuaded to go near a
horse.
The mother sprang to her feet and
with a scream, ordered. the big oak doorto be fastened.
One of the boys hurriedly shot
home the bolts and drew back hor
ror-stricken. The long black form'
of a horse stretched out in an at
titude of speed as if cantering was
silhouetted against the wall, and
passed just as quickly. There
was an awful silence for a second
or two, and then the steady drumof hoof beats receding into the distance.
The family was stupefied, and were
only aroused from this lethargy by thesound of a heavy fall. Their mother
had fainted..
Nobody slept that night.
The morning found them waitingfor the news they felt was bound to
come.
It came at breakfast time. ~The
eldest boy had met with an accident
whilst shearing at a neighboring sta
tion, and had died during the night.
The time of his death synchronised
with the appearance of the riderless
black horse.
The same thing happened again six
months later.
jl 1110 Liiixu liiu uyjyf nuu -uuu uuiicu
the door against the ghostly horse was
the victim. Mrs. Smithers was sitting in the kitchen at dusk.
Her daughter was sent into the din
ing room to bring out a recipe book
that she wanted to examine when a
piercing shriek rent the air.
She almost fell into the kitchen 'The
black horse. I have seen it,' she
screamed and . fainted away.
The- drumming of steady hoof beatsverified her words as her mother peeredterrified through the dusk at an ani
mal's figure rapidly dissolving in the
distance.
That night Gordon did not come
home.
A week of frantic searching found
him dead in a gully, where he hadfallen from a tree in endeavoring to
get a young native bear for his
youngest sister. A pet she had long
desired.
If you turn off at a narrow little
If you turn off at a narrow little
bridle path that meets the Goulburn
Queanbeyan road you will, if you fol
low the narrow wheel-tracked path ar
rive at Crosbie falling swiftly to de-.
cay. The rabbits are living in the
hawthorn hedges, which have grown
almost impenetrable, and the stately
poplars still sigh in the wind as they
did on the nights of the ghostly visi
tations.
But the Smithers family are living
in another state.
The old lady is dead, and only the
elder ones still talk of Crosbie and the
riderless horse, coal black and fiery,
that came at the gallop when death
and desolation came into a once happyhome.
She: 'After all, as recards my wardrobe, it's only a matter of initial
outlay.''
?
?
?
He: 'Oh. I'll admit that the upkeep is negligible.' L-:'JibJitijii iij