The Sunday Times sent a special representative to Guyra at the end of the week to get a first-hand story of the mysterious happenings which have intrigued the whole of the State. The services of a special photographer were also obtained, and the results of their investigations are given in the message and photographs which appear below.

GUYRA, Saturday.—There is only one topic of conversation at Guyra, a prosperous little township about 110 miles from the Queensland border, on the main Brisbane-Sydney line. The weather as a conversational possibility no longer attracts. Everywhere one hears mildly philosophic or fiercely heated argument on the subject of the extraordinary happenings at Mr. Bowen's cottage, about half a mile outside the township. Women, and even grown men, are frankly afraid. They sleep with loaded guns or revolvers handy. The other night a well-known produce merchant engaged twice during one night in mortal combat—once with a horse nibbling his roses, and again with a large dog pilfering in his pantry. Women Scared: A Child Shot Already one shooting accident has occurred. A woman, whose husband is in hospital, kept a revolver under her pillow. The children found this toy and now the little daughter of the house has joined her father in hospital, with a bullet in her head. To understand better how a community of about 1000 souls has been thrown into this state of alarm and excitement, it will be as well to recapitulate the occurrences of the past three weeks. The trouble started on April Fools' Day, a suggestive date, and up to as late as Friday has been continuous. In the beginning the Bowen family were disturbed by tremendous thumpings on the walls. There were no stones to account for these knocks at first, but after a while stones started flying and windows were smashed, generally just as night fell. These attacks always seemed directed against little Minnie Bowen, a girl of about 12. Stones crashed through her bedroom window and fell on her bed. She even says that a man chased her more than once in the paddock near the cottage, and pelted her with stones. She described this man minutely. Mysterious Bumpings. By this time Guyra was on its mettle. About 60 to 80 volunteers mustered night after night and drew a double cordon round the cottage. Some actually stood or lay close up against the walls of the building. The stone-throwing ceased, but the bumpings continued, and there are many who will swear that the sounds were produced by someone inside the house. And here is where the element of mystery becomes very apparent. The sergeant of police and two constables kept everyone of the inmates of the cottage under close scrutiny. They particularly watched Minnie Bowen, who has been, and still is, suspected by many of being responsible. While the sergeant sat one night a yard or so away from the girl, inside, and a constable stood outside the cottage wall, bump after bump was heard, sufficient to shake the cottage to its foundations, and audible to watchers 100 yards or more from the house. Sergeant Breaks Under Strain. The sergeant was nonplussed, and after nights of fruitless watching, the preparing of traps that were never sprung, and endless investigations, he has broken down under the strain and gone away for a rest. He became convinced that there was some supernatural agency at work, and so the services of a spiritualist were impressed, and Minnie Bowen was asked to try to communicate with the spirit being that apparently was endeavoring to attract the notice of friends on earth, even though its methods were rather rough. Not a Clever Girl. Minnie Bowen must be a remarkable actress if her conversation with the spirit was not genuine. She conversed naturally, easily and colloquially with her dead sister. Minnie is tall, thin and dark, with peculiar dark, introspective eyes that never seem to miss any movement in a room. When she speaks to you she never smiles, and seems to look beyond or through you. She is not a clever child in the accepted sense, and is backward and in a low standard for her age at school. She has none of the ordinary stigmata of insanity, such as dilated pupils, or an abnormally arched palate. If quiet and rather unusual, she seems just a normal little girl in most respects, except that she has a rather uncanny aptitude for anticipating questions almost before they are asked, and answering them. The spiritualist, having fulfilled his mission, returned to Uralla, and told everyone that further annoyances would cease. So Guyra was at ease, and, sure enough, nothing happened on Thursday night. The spiritualist had indeed solved the riddle. Attack Resumed in Daylight. But this sense of security was short lived. On Friday morning the Bowen family and that of Mr. Hodder, a step-son of Mrs. Bowen's, went into the potato paddock to pit about twenty bags of potatoes. They say the job took about an hour or so. Imagine their surprise when, on returning to the cottage, only a couple of hundred yards away, and standing well in the open, they found that the windows in the front of the house, which had been stoutly barricaded with wooden shutters and nailed up with battens, were smashed in. The shutters and battens were lying on the ground on the verandah, together with a fairly large stone. The police were notified and excited neighbors in motor cars, men on horse-back and in buggies, summoned by that mysterious telegraph of the bush, were soon clustered around the house. The writer was amongst them, and secured the photograph which accompanies this article. For the rest of the day and during the night I never left the house or its inmates out of my sight. The Bowens frankly permitted me to scrutinise every hole and corner of the building, and to sit at night in the cottage by the kitchen fire. When I had adventured through the bush earlier in the day, towards the house, the door opened stealthily, and Hodder, the step-son, polled with a three days' growth of beard, came toward me, a stranger, with his rifle at the ready. Then, as I explained, he caught sight of a rabbit-trapper passing close by. The same suspicious frown came again. There was no acting here. The business was badly on the man's nerves. Fruitless Night Vigil. On Friday night other watchers joined in—potato diggers, merchants, agents, the police constable, and a few adventurous folk from far and near. Outside a brilliant moon; illuminated the bush. No one could have approached the cottage unseen. Some of us scattered into the bush to listen for suspicious sounds; others sat inside to watch the inmates and await further manifestations. It was a weird party. In the scullery some dozen or so were clustered round an aromatic log fire, the

sole light, as the windows were shuttered as if for a siege. In the kitchen the two families of Bowens and Hodders sat four adults and nine little children. It says something for Guyra that the township boasts of fifteen sets of twins, all under five. I never took my eyes off Minnie Bowen, and watched her unseen from my corner in the dark. She sat in a chair, chin cupped on hand, the firelight dancing on her not uncomely features. But if there was a movement those queer brown eyes turned towards it, unblinking and unsmiling. The two mothers sat with babies on their knees, the two fathers nursed two other little tots, while one child was curled up in a perambulator, another on the sofa, and yet another slept peacefully in a clothes basket. Hardly a word was spoken. Now and again a match would be struck, and a cloud of tobacco smoke would rise up from between hunched shoulders near the fire. The women looked drawn and tired; the man unshaven and weary with night after night of similar vigils. Hour after hour the watch was kept, and nothing happened. Last night the spook, or demon, or practical joker, whichever it may be, went to bed, and the Bowens were left in peace. Whisperings and Some Theories. Naturally the little township buzzes with rumors. Guyra is divided into three schools of thought—those who think the inmates of the cottage are themselves responsible; those who believe in the super-natural; and those who blame some criminal or joker. Plenty of people will tell you that there are ample reasons why some interested person wants to scare the Bowens away, depreciate the value of their property, and

so secure possession cheaply. There is a house famine at Guyra, as in Sydney. As for an outside agency, it is difficult to see how a man could break through a cordon of 80 well-armed people and bombard a cottage on all sides. There will be a tragedy yet outside this lonely cottage one night. A young fellow nearly got shot the other night for moving from his post. The constable had him covered, but recognised him in the nick of time. Of the spirit idea, all that can be said is that such things have happened before. At present it is difficult to account for the rappings and thumps in any other way. However, hard-headed men like the local lawyer and doctor scout the very idea, yet the doctor set an elaborate trap to catch the person responsible. He sprayed the entire walls of the sleeping room with liquorice powder and had a deep hole cut through the shutter and curtain, all un-known to anyone in the Bowen house-hold. This was in order to watch Minnie Bowen. The trap failed, as Minnie called her father to the bedroom and said: "Look, daddy, the doctor has put some-thing on the walls." It is noteworthy, too, that no rappings occurred that night. Other Cottages Attacked. Another curious feature is that two other cottages close by have been bombarded with stones, and windows broken, and still farther afield, about eleven miles from Guyra, similar things are happening to another family. The entire countryside has been thoroughly searched. Hollow logs, blackberry bushes and gullies have been examined closely, but never a sign of the attacker has been seen. Ten days ago an old Irish woman, Mrs. Doran, aged 87, disappeared. A potato-digger saw her in a paddock with a potato in each hand and asked her where she was going. The old dame replied, "I'm taking the spuds to Ould Oireland." She passed over a rise and out of sight, and has not been seen since. Elaborate search parties have failed to find a trace of her also. The Second Coming. One of the most remarkable incidents in connection with the mystery is that which occurred a couple of days ago. Two ladies had driven out in a motor to see the Bowens' cottage. The local policeman and a produce merchant had also gone out in a car. As the ladies were standing talking, a stone whizzed past and struck a tree close to them. Thinking it was a joke they went to the constable and asked if he was the perpetrator. He, of course, denied doing it. At this juncture an old eccentric man, well known in Guyra, appeared suddenly from the bush and exclaimed, "If that stone has a cross on it, I can tell you all about this mystery." The stone was examined and proved to have a cross scratched on it. The old man, who, by the way, claims to be the apostle of Christ on Earth, and also landlord of the Bowens' house, has told those who are inhabitants of Guyra that he is expectant of the second coming of Christ, who will occupy this cottage as his earthly abode. All this, of course, is extraordinary and inexplicable, and heightens the mysterious atmosphere. Yesterday a notice was posted in the cottage stating that if the inhabitants did not get out it would be blown up. Truly Guyra is getting its full share of tragedy these days.