This spinning motion, it might be noted, has been seen by Mrs. Gwen Grippe and Mrs. Shirley Eshelby, and is mentioned in their accounts.
Mr. Tom Charman continues: “Then the speed slackened once more, and the thought crossed my mind as to whether she knew I was admiring her. At that moment she looked over her shoulder and smiled at me. This is the only time I know of a fairy responding to my thoughts. I have tried to get into mental touch with them but without success. Frequently they dance together, taking hold of each other’s hands. At other times as many as a dozen may form themselves into a ring by taking hold of long, thin, gauzy drapery, which they love to see floating into the air. They have no set dances as far as I can see. My most gorgeous and fantastic visions are those of fairy processions. There is no fashion in the fairy world, so each individual wears just what takes his fancy. In these processions they are all dressed in most weird and wonderful garments, and some of them appear decidedly overdressed and bejewelled. They seem to specialize in queer hats, and their hair is often adorned and put up in the most fantastic of ways. Sometimes a hat will have on it an ornament in the shape of a turnip or a carrot. In fact, it would seem, the more weird, the more beautiful! They usually carry in the procession the most trivial things with the utmost dignity. These processions are usually very long. I cannot find out what purpose they serve. I have said that fairies inhabit the astral or etheric plans, but I have used these terms for want of a better. I wish to emphasize that all elementals seem to inhabit a plane, which is halfway between the etheric and astral world and this physical world, and that in this state, contrary to what we know of beings on the etheric or astral plane, they are able to contact objects and elements of our world in a glorified form. Thus they can enjoy the elements and natural objects of this plane, but not suffer from them. Only those human beings who are able to contact their vibrations, to a greater or lesser degree, are able to see and feel these little creatures.”
Of special interest and importance to the seer Mr. Tom Charman were some curious cat-like elemental creatures, and his description of them is well-worth quoting: “The bones of the hands and feet of these animals are already divided up into fingers and toes, but are not visible, as they are enclosed in a bag-like formation of skin. Their bodies are covered with down-like hair, and they vary a lot as regards stages of development. Thus in some of the lower forms the mouth consists of a slit, whilst in the higher forms actual lips occur. All of them show varying degrees of dawning consciousness. During the summer of 1920, my wife and I spent nine weeks camping in the New Forest, and during this time we had many visits from these cat-like creatures. Frequently of a night, one would poke his head into small hands and feet, as though they were able to change themselves at will—perhaps according to the different kinds of work they were engaged upon.
Other Witnesses
Another fairy seer, Mrs. Georgina K. Evason, of Kent, said she had certainly perceived some “very comical cats, half-finished looking,” as though they were in process of trying to materialize or develop. These had always been indoors, and she took them to be “subjective pictures of undeveloped creatures at a certain stage of progression.”
In 1956, Mr. A. W. Smith, B.A., of Essex, wrote: “My little girl (she will be two in October) persistently insists that there are ‘pussies’ all over our house, and on one occasion when she was trying hard to get me to look at one I felt a distinct ‘chill’ and a positive sense of physical ‘malaise.’ Incidentally, a little girl in the house opposite ours was most unwilling to sleep in her new bedroom (when the family moved in) because she said there were pussycats playing in the room. There is no question of one child influencing the other.”
It may have been another creature of this type that Mrs. Martha C. Smith of Indiana saw in her large basement. “It is fairly dark there,” she explained, “and only part of the floor is finished. The other part is dirt trampled down very hard. I had gone down to get a box when suddenly I was conscious of a tiny noise behind me, such as a mouse or small rat would make. I turned, and over against a wall I saw a little object about the size of a half-grown cat, which I thought it was until I realised it was standing on its two legs. It was a musty dark colour, with an animal-like face, and had what appeared to be a furry-looking coat and brownish-coloured pants. Its feet were more like an animal’s than those of the other little people I have seen, and its features were pointed and coarse looking. It had no hat, but just a bunch of rough fur, and when it sped out of sight it jumped like a rabbit instead of walking upright as humans do. I was also conscious of an unpleasant odour. I have been down several times since, hoping to see it again, but all I can find is a little mark on the floor like that left by the three toes of a chicken.”
In the 1950s, Mrs. Jessie Kay Scott and her husband were listening to the wireless on New Year’s Eve in their home in Kent when there came from behind the grandfather clock “two furry brown little creatures,” which commenced to dance in front of the radio. Both husband and wife watched them in amazement, until at last one of the tiny figures darted on to Mrs. Scott’s shoulder and thence to the couch, where it disappeared. “They had such lovely brown twinkling eyes,” she wrote. “We have never seen anything like this before in our lives.”
Mrs. E.D., of Cheshire, had a similar experience when a pixie, like a little brown-skinned or furry animal in appearance, with ears shaped like ivy leaves, was seen by her in daylight. Its height was five or six inches, and it stood against a chair leg for a few seconds, and then vanished.
Mrs. Vera Westmoreland
During their early childhood in Runcorn, Cheshire, Mrs. Vera Westmoreland and her sister Doris saw various elves. Some were clothed in green, and their faces were slightly greenish. Others wore brown and had faces more pointed and coloured “like sun-burn on pale skin.” Vera saw her first fairy at the age of six, while she was ill in bed. It visited her frequently and would poise itself on the bed rail, or dart about the room. Its delicate aura varied from time to time with colours that were always of pastel shades, blended like shot silk, and glowing like a faint rainbow.
In 1912, a well-known medium, Mr. Tom Tyrell, used to visit Vera’s parents. He saw fairies constantly and would describe them to the family. He told them how he was taken to a wood by some people who bandaged his eyes and tested him with trees. His task was to point out the dead trees amongst many healthy ones, and this he was able to do successfully. He explained to Vera’s parents how he did it, and gave them a demonstration in the unfamiliar woods and countryside to which he was taken. In the trees, which were alive, he could hear the sap rising and falling, and he also followed out what the fairies told him. He said they showed him much of their life and work with the flowers, and he could describe, while still blindfolded, what flowers were before him.
During 1915, Vera was taken to live in the country at a place called Kingsley. There, the nine-year-old child was often lonely, and would amble round the fields and cottage garden. Gradually she became conscious of the hidden life and could sense which parts were the haunts of elves and fairies. The villagers used to avoid certain places, and she realised they were afraid, but didn’t know the reason. Later, she saw the wee folk, sometimes clearly, at other times as if in a mist, and she noticed that bird life was very closely linked with them. The garden had an old, lonely plum tree, which stood a fair distance from all other trees, and it was under this tree that she always found happiness. Spirit children had always been a greater part of her childhood play, and when they sometimes brought with them one or two fairies it certainly made the hours fly too quickly for her. They would become as solid as she was and she forgot all else until the time came for them to vanish from her sight.
Near the lane in which she lived, there was an old spring, which bubbled slowly, and had to be reached by a thickly hedged path. The villages said the well was haunted and they avoided it, preferring to walk the long distance to the village pump, for none of the cottages had any water supply. Vera’s youthf
ul curiosity took her many times to the lonely well, for it was quiet there and she had a feeling of peace. The water was in a square hole in a narrow setting and was not very deep. It was so clear that one could bend down to look into it. She wondered why so many grown-up people were afraid of it. Then one day she espied two elves leaning out of the greenery at the back of the well. They seemed very happy and not likely to want to frighten anyone. She told some of the village people they need not be afraid, but their fear remained so the elves were left in peace. She saw these little creatures many times, especially after rain, when they were too busy to notice her.
Years later she went to live in Liverpool. Her childhood had passed by, and only the memory of those early visions of fairy life remained. She was now married to Derrick Westmoreland, and one day in February 1936 she walked from her home to visit her parents three miles away. “They did not expect me that day,” she said, “and when I arrived I found they had four visitors who, like myself, had come to see them on the spur of the moment. Two of these people were entire strangers, whose grief at the loss of their son, an only child, was the cause of their visit to see my father. They did not know any of us, nor had they ever seen us before. Their great need for solace made me long to help them, so I prayed quietly to be allowed to give these two sad souls some comfort. The seven of us sat in perfect silence, and my faithful collie dog lay near my feet. Suddenly I saw a quivering light coming towards me. It shone and sparkled very clearly, and soon the first fairy playmate of my childhood stood before me, poised on her toes and smiling. On opening my eyes, the bright sparkle remained around her, and I gazed for quite a long time until my father asked: ‘Vera, what is it you see?’ I replied ‘I will tell you in a minute.’ At this, the fairy pointed towards my collie dog, which slowly rose and walked straight to her. Everyone saw the dog wag its tail and nose something gently. The fairy touched my dog’s head and pointed to the lady who was crying for the loss of her son. The dog went to her and put its nose under her hand. The fairy then pointed to me and again to the lady. This time I saw the spirit of the boy standing by his mother, and I thanked the fairy, who gradually dimmed and faded away. All said, they felt that something stood there, but couldn’t see what it was, though two of them had seen the light sparkling the whole time. Proofs of his survival came from the boy, who told his father and mother many things that none knew about the boy and themselves. That fairy had cleared away most of the heaviness and left behind her a brightness that remained with the couple for a long time. The dull weather and the heavy grief of the bereaved parents must have made it difficult for the coming of so delicate a life as hers, yet she had done so.”
In November 1947, Mrs. Westmoreland attended a lecture at the Psychic Truth Society, Liverpool. In front of the platform stood a huge bowl of large chrysanthemums, and one flower had a broken stalk and hung downwards. The lecture was interesting, and she had been listening carefully when a movement among the flowers caught her eye. An elf was peeping round the flowers and looking at her with a merry expression on his face. Then with a grin he pointed at a faint light, which she saw quivering over the broken flower, and this cleared to reveal a fairy of iridescent colouring, busily hovering round the broken stem. She was amazed to see the fairy take from the elf something that looked like a sticky web, and this was wound round and round the stem until the flower stayed upright. When the fairy had finished, she glanced at Mrs. Westmoreland and, with a gentle wave, rose and faded from her view. The elf seemed to stretch, and then he, too, vanished. Mrs. Westmoreland sat there feeling dazed with the wonder of it all, until the scraping of chairs and the sound of feet moving on the wooden floor of the hall disturbed her. She rushed from her chair straight to the flowers, and saw that the broken stem was held together by a firm, sticky substance. Some of the people asked her what she was looking at so eagerly, and she told them. The lady who had placed the flowers there said she had broken the stem when bringing the flowers to the hall, and when she saw it had been mended she said she would keep that flower for a long time afterwards. Two other ladies had seen not only the flower move but also some of the leaves, and when asked where, it proved to be right on the spot where the elf had been moving.
In 1950, Mrs. Westmoreland’s health was so frail that she and her husband, Derrick, went to live in Swanage. They had been there a month when they found a ground-floor flat, which had spacious gardens and a lovely old church set far back on its lawns. A rippling brook flowed alongside the road and the lawns and hosts of daffodils bloomed and swayed in the sunshine. One day, Mrs. Westmoreland was looking at them when she saw several glimmering fairies moving above them. A noisy car rushed by, and the vision vanished. In vain she watched for them to return, but she was never given that joy again.
She and Derrick arrived in Taunton in 1951, and eventually made their home there, in a lovely old-world thatched house surrounded by its garden and array of trees. This house became a sanctuary for the sick and crippled, and although the town had crept its way around outside the garden, the peace and mellowness within were retained. The trees varied from tall, stately firs, copper beeches and ash, to nut trees and fruit trees. It was amongst these that occasionally she sensed the wee folk and wondered how they could stand the active life of the present day, for she thought that the years of change would affect them.
In 1954, she was resting in the lounge when she saw a tiny figure gliding towards her. It was her fairy playmate and the same fairy who had come to her in February 1936. This time the room was full of sunshine, and she saw the wee soul move in and out of the bright gleams from the window. She felt the fairy’s greeting was a happy one, and watched her go through the window and out into the garden, where she vanished into the distance.
While staying in Folkestone at the home of her friend Mrs. Dickens-Yates, who had seen many nature spirits, including leprechauns in Ireland, Mrs. Westmoreland wrote to me: “The garden here is full of elfin and fairy life, and so enjoyable. Each time I visit a certain spot there appears a delightful wee man, young and full of life’s joy, who told me his name is Peppetoes, though I do not know if I have spelt it correctly. He moves swiftly and is the same one who kept pulling at my stockings when we were packing to come.”
Her next home was near Matlock, in Derbyshire, and she was browsing amongst the heather on a hilltop when she noticed a strange impression on the grass. The depth, and the way the grass had been pressed, set her wondering, and while looking at it she saw many little faces of different types, all peering hard at her. It was a circle of Little People, and their leader was sitting cross-legged on a strange bushy plant that Mrs. Westmoreland knew had not been there before that day, because she often wandered round that part with her puppy. Some of the wee folk were in brown shades of various tones, and others were in grass colours. “I felt like Gulliver,” she told me. “So huge and overwhelming; but they eyed me fearlessly, then greeted me in odd movements and faded away from my sight.” She stood for a long time sending her thoughts to them. She could see the grass ring depressed and knew they were still holding their own special gathering. Then came the feeling they wanted her to leave them in friendliness, so she walked slowly away. “Sometimes in the sunny weather,” she said, “I go to a special woodland here, where I see the various wee ones, who greet me in their different ways. Rock elves and tree sprites abound round here. The fairy clans are coloured in varied array, some with faint, glowing shades round them, according to the clarity of vision I am granted at times.”
In the 1960s, she and her husband moved from Derbyshire to Leicestershire, from where she wrote: “On our first night here, such a lively group of elves visited us and seemed very curious about us. They had such friendly grins, and were a kind I have not met before. Their faces and ears were sharply pointed, and their eyes slanting. They wore delightful hats and green jerkins, and brought with them a fairy animal like a lioness so tame and lovable. I saw its yellow eyes with green flecks in them. Then the little fellows pointed to where th
ey lived, and to my joy it seemed to be round the old ruined castle, which stands inside its own moat as though on a green island. Now one of the elves, whose name is Etto, comes frequently to my house, so I feel accepted.”
Vera and Derrick Westmoreland were not there very long, as they decided to emigrate to Australia. Unfortunately, Derrick passed away shortly afterwards, and Vera, whose own health was deteriorating, made a new home in Queensland. I did not hear from her again until 1977, when she sent an airmail letter describing her surroundings. She said she was glad to see three wee folk appear and follow her and a friend round the garden, which consisted of flowers and of many trees bearing fruits such as bananas, cocoanuts, papaws, and mangoes. Two of the gnome-like little men were attired in strong greens and reds, and the third was in orange, and she found them very different from those in the south.
Writing generally on the subject, she said: “Many people must have experienced the seeing of wee folk but are afraid of being disbelieved. Truth can never be denied, nor should the delicate life and work of fairy and elf be spoiled by ignorance. This is not the only world they visit, for they have many journeys to do and their speed is not limited. They know and understand our language, and are conscious of our thoughts. It is a definite fact that no sphere of life is without them, and animals and birds are very aware of them. They are all part of God’s spirit, and do far more for us than most people realise.”
Seeing Fairies Page 27
