In Bullock county, Ga., not long since, a man and family by the name of Brannen moved onto a farm formerly occupied by a very old and miserly couple. These old people (man and wife) had no children or relatives, and, both dying within a few weeks of each other, were kindly buried by friends in the neighborhood.
It was found that they had been living in the most abject poverty. The place presented a miserable appearance, there being very little furniture or cooking utensils, with scarcely any provisions, and several emaciated cats and half-starved fowls completed the poverty stricken aspect. Mr. Brannen bought the place at auction shortly after the two old people died and immediately moved there with his family. But they were there only a short time before they wished they had never seen the place. Strange beings were to be seen flitting about after nightfall, and dismal, unearthly sounds were to be heard during the day. Mr. Brannen, his wife and sons, being honest, hard working people and non-believers in “ghosts,” they paid little attention at first, thinking it some practical jokes of the neighbors But as the weeks sped by things grew worse instead of better. Cold, clammy hands were laid on different members of the family at all hours of the night, sending them into nervous chills.
The bedsteads were jerked about the room, occupants and all, by some unseen power. Everything was turned topsy-turvy and it was impossible to keep anything like order on the premises. Pandemonium reigned. It seemed as though the very air was filled with uneasy spirits. The Brannens grew desperate, and were thinking seriously of hunting “pastures new,” when one morning Mr. Brannen and one of his sons, being in the yard, were startled by a strange, roaring noise, which seemed to proceed from the ground at their feet. As he described it, it appeared to be a small “whirlwind of noise,” and something seemed to impel them to follow it. It gradually drifted over into a corn field, and at the farther corner seemed to sink into the ground at the roots of an old dead peach tree. They went to the house, procured implements, returned, dug, and found, no one knows just how much, but that it was a great deal of money, and the hoarded wealth of a lifetime of the old couple that died, is well known. The Brannens have decided to still remain on the old farm, and it is quiet and serene there now, where all was chaos a short time ago. The uneasy spirits have accomplished their mission and are at rest.
The Kansas City [MO] Gazette 21 March 1889: p. 4
Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: A cautionary tale about the prudence of using established financial institutions. Had the miserly couple invested their wealth, or even placed it in the bank, rather than under a dead peach tree, they might have not only increased their assets, but been able to enjoy holidays abroad or, at the very least, to properly feed their cats. The emaciated cats are a telling detail: even rats and mice had deserted the misers’ impoverished larder.
The Brannens were right to consider the possibility of a practical joke by the neighbours. Mrs Daffodil knows of a case where the neighbours, knowing exactly where the miserly farmer had concealed his money, scared away the new tenant by terrifying his young bride with various tricks. After the tenants had left, the money was dug up and the neighbours boasted of their ghostly impostures.
The guiding “whirlwind of noise” is unusual in the literature of treasure-hunting. A more usual trick is a ball of light drifting to the “X marks the spot” locale.
Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes
You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.