In 1875, Nathan Morrell and his wife were living in the Jackson House. Morrell, a Jonesborough businessman, had rented the place from Jackson. Almost from the beginning, the couple was plagued by poltergeists. According to the weekly Jonesborough Herald and Tribune, the first episode of ghostly activity began when Nathan heard footsteps on the floor above him. The sound was like that of a man walking with a cane. As he and his wife huddled in the parlor, they heard the footsteps travel from one side of the room above to the other. Next, they descended the stairs, then, after a moment, returned to the upper floor. Each time, Morrell investigated the sound, but he found nothing.

That was only the beginning. One night, Mrs. Morrell was alone reading in her room on the second floor when the footsteps began. By that time, the Morrells had become accustomed to the sound, so after listening for a few moments, she returned to her reading. She knew if she went into the hall to investigate, she would find nothing.

The footsteps stopped in front of her closed bedroom door. Mrs. Morrell glanced up from her book and was horrified to see the doorknob begin to turn. "Nathan, is that you?" she called out.

There was no answer.

"Nathan! Answer me!" she cried.

The knob stopped turning. Suddenly, a violent banging shook the door and reverberated through the house. Mrs. Morrell screamed. Whatever haunted the house was trying to get into her bedroom. She screamed again, even louder than before and the banging stopped.

A heart pounding moment passed. Then the doorknob began turning again. Mrs. Morrell watched in silent terror. She jumped like a scalded cat when the door burst open and Nathan ran to her bedside. When she told him the story, he volunteered to look for the intruder. He said, however, that he had not heard the footsteps or the pounding - just his wife's screaming. That was why he had come.

Mrs. Morrell grabbed her husband's arm. "No," she said, shaking with fright. "Don't go. Don't leave me."

Morrell put his arms around his wife to comfort her. It was then that both husband and wife thought they heard a wailing that sounded like a despondent woman crying in grief.

Another story about the haunting of the Jackson House concerns one of the Morrells' children. By the time Nathan and his wife began experiencing the ghosts, their children were grown and living on their own. One son, Elbert, lived on a nearby farm and often visited his mother and father. He had heard them talk about the ghostly noises in the house but had never witnessed anything himself.

Elbert again visited his parents, but this time he heard a mysterious scratching sound that seemed to be coming from somewhere inside the walls. An inspection revealed nothing. "Mice," Elbert said confidently, dismissing the incident. His parents were not so sure.

A few minutes later, Elbert and his parents were deep in conversation. Then, without warning, the chair Elbert was sitting in rose six inches into the air, and a loud report, as though the chair had been struck by a board, reverberated through the house. The chair crashed back to the floor, bearing a stunned and flabbergasted Elbert. Nothing was said for a moment. Everyone was too shocked. Then the elder Morrell turned toward his wife, an amused expression on his face. "Mice," he said, nodding his head.

The ghosts in the Jackson House at that time did not include that of Mudwall himself, who lived well into the 1880s. Once he died, old-timers around Jonesborough began saying that Mudwall's ghost had joined those of the tortured soldiers already in residence.

Local tradition says the house became so infamous that the owners were unable to find tenants to live in it. If the story printed in the Herald and Tribune is true - and there is no reason to believe Nathan Morrell would lie just to open himself up to the ridicule of the community - then the Jackson House was truly a place infested by spirits. The demolition of the house shortly after the turn of the century may be ended the noisy activities within, but some spirits linger. At night, a crying woman can still be heard on the hillside - an unsettling reminder of Jonesborough's most haunted house.