At the end of the article there is a curious sentence which, at Halloween, may raise the hairs on the back of our necks:
The shades of evening were quickly spreading round us. As we came along I could almost fancy the form of Old Lowndes rocking to and fro in the distance.
Readers may have wondered who was 'Old Lowndes' and why he was rocking.
His ghost was rocking in a gibbet, suspended on Helsby Hill.
To read his story please CLICK HERE.