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The Spirits of Barlow Road
Folklore Prince Edward Island
By: Sterling Ramsay
The Spirits of Barlow Road - by Janie Jones
The name, Barlow Road itself, came from a Mr. Barlow who owned the mills at Ellerslie, at the turn of the century and later moved to Wellington. Barlow, is the common spelling but some descendants of the same stock claimed that the proper orthography was Burleigh.
Barlow Road was the possessor of a particularly ominous landmark, which came to be referred to by the locals as the "Half-Way Tree". The "Half-Way Tree" was in reality a large growth of pine, which had been dead for many years before the mysterious occurrences connected with it actually began to take place. It's exact location on the road has become a matter of conjecture for it has long since disappeared, but most who tell tales connected with it agree that it was located in close proximity to Grant's Brook. So foreboding was its appearance that one resident of the area described it thusly: "Looking up, as one passes over Grant's Brook it stood on the brow of the hill, it's gaunt and runkles outlines being silhouetted in weird solemnity against the northern sky. In fact, in passing it, the lone traveler, especially at night, almost felt the spot was uncanny.
Grant's Brook lay at right angles with the low road, and the land for over two hundred yards was described as "low, level, overflowed and swampy." It can easily be seen that this long road on any night, even a moonlit or starlit one, but especially when the sky was dark, would arouse foreboding and ominous sensations. In addition to the natural repulsiveness of the scene the imagination of man enhanced the weirdness of the place. Common saying had it - and it may be added, belief to - that Grant's Brook was haunted. The story was that a women- ghost most often being women- had been frequently seen about the brook. Legend said that some women, formerly belonging to the place, had been ill-used and that she, as one observer of the time put it:
"Revisited thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to shake or disposition
With thoughts beyond the radius of our souls!"
Some even claim to have seen her, in her white garb, moving slowly to and fro as if her spirit could find no rest. And so much had this gained currency in the receptive minds of the local people that few cared to travel the road between dusk and dark; and none, it is said , passes along without experiencing the apprehensive feeling that something not altogether earthly might be near.
The man was by name, one, William Lotten Ellis. Mr. Ellis operated a shipyard on the opposite side of the Bideford River from the then notable Richards' residence, at a place which was known as East Bideford, but has since become East Bedford through popular usage.
Mr. Ellis' business often called him away from home and it was almost just as late at night before he was on the road to return, since he was fond of conversation he stopped to chat along the way.
One day in the late summer, he had been more than usually busy and before he left Port Hill for home it was long after candle-light. The sky had become overcast, but as there was some moonlight, he was able by peering hard to discern things dimly for some distance ahead and around. He had pasted Tyne Valley, - the horse jogging leisurely homeward along the dreary wood-skirted road between that place and Ellerslie; had crossed the bridge at the latter place; allowed the horse to walk up the reach until the ridge was mounted, and was trotting down the further side toward Grant's Brook.
When nearing the low, wide hollow, all at once the horses ears went erect and the animal began to snort and shy to one side. Mr. Ellis looked around him and was astonished to see, ahead a short distance from the left side of the road, a figure of a women crouched on the ground. He was thoroughly astonished for his brain had been so engrossed in the day's business that the usual thoughts of ghost were entirely absent. He was so startled that his first impulse was to rein in the horse. Then the strange figure suddenly stood erect. The unusual setting, time and the excited state of his imagination picturing it, created a figure like it's stovepipe hat, much taller than it really was. He was as unbeliever in Ghosts, but the facts were now too many for him; there she was at the regulation of the hour-twelve o'clock midnight-before him in plain sight, for his startled imagination made his eyesight unusually acute. With a considerable effort of will he determined to approach. When he got opposite the apparition it suddenly turned away and strode off in the direction of the "Half-Way Tree" where it vanished from sight. Try as he might, he could discover no trace of the mysterious spirit.
The legend of the Barlow Road is still very much known. One of the more current accounts is related by Mr. F.H.MacAruther and concerns an individual by the name of "Old Ben Horne" and his experiences at the hands of the mysterious ghost lady. As a rule, the mysterious figure, it was said, could only be seen after sunset, but there are a few incidents recorded of traveler's' having come upon the ghost lady in broad daylight; this is one such incident.
Old Ben Horne was walking from his home at Port Hill to the tavern, caring on his back a sack of flour. Ben passed through the spooky region without incident, sold the flour at the tavern and had a good many drinks.
He started for home at approximately 4:30 p.m. The sun was still high in the heavens, for a month of June. What a glorious day it was!
When within sight of Grant's Creek and the Halfway tree, old Ben's progress was blocked by a snake fence thrown across the road. It puzzled the old-timer to see a fence blocking the road, especially as no one lived in within miles of the place.
What could it mean? And who could have done such a silly thing? "Could it be them thar spirits", he mused. "There's no telling what the critters might have in mind, perhaps a trick to catch me."
By this time he had reached the fence and was in the act of climbing over it when he heard the cry of a women's voice. It was no ordinary cry, but a piercing, anguished shriek that made the very hair upon his head stand up like the bristling mane of an angry dog.
He was leaning against the fence and all of a sudden it collapsed and sent him sprawling to the ground. But Old Ben was on his feet in a split second, ready to defend himself against any enemy that might come near enough to cause him harm.
Suddenly the fence posts all stood on end and began marching down the road like a company of soldiers. Ben rubbed his eyes in sheer amazement at the uncanny sight. There were exactly thirty in number and as he watched them a strange thing happened; each pole transformed itself into a giant with cap, clock and shoes. Behind then, and forcing them forward by brandishing a great bull-whip, was the ghost of Barlow Road.
"It's the ghost lady", said our hero under his breath. "Now what would she be doing, gadding about at this time of day?"
It was the first time Ben had ever seen her, but he recognized her at once from the description others had given. Yes, there she was, marching down the road before his very eyes, her tall figure clad in a snowy white gown that almost trailed the ground.
He blinked his eyes as if it were a dream and stared wildly down the road. He had seen right the first time; the thirty giants and the ghost lady were approaching at a slow pace.
The great wailing cry again pierced the stillness of the beautiful June evening and made Ben tremble from head to toe. God! How he wished he were safe in his own home. The scene before him was getting on his nerves. And that awful cry was making him as jittery as a young colt in its first harness.
"Suddenly they left the road and, marching directly to the old pine tree, all vanished from sight."