A Straunge and terrible Wunder

From Rev. Abraham Fleming's account of the appearance of the ghostly black dog "Black Shuck" at the church of Bungay, Suffolk in 1577

This should be a morning to set the church bells ringing in 
that vanished village of Shipden which lies beneath the sea! 
But all I can hear above the roaring of wind and sea is 
the scream of a sea-bird and the song of a lark which the 
storm cannot keep from soaring. If there were any truth 
in those old legends of tolling bells in the sea depths, such a 
gale as this should make the East Anglian coast as musical as 
the "City of Churches" on a Christmas Eve ; for many a ham- 
let, and many a church which was a landmark to seamen, has 
gone down cliff between Aldborough and Lynn. But now 
it is the children only who listen for the bells, just as it is
the children only who go about at night in fear of Black Shuck. 
If this were a stormy night instead of a stormy day the old 
fisher-folk of the coast would say it were just the time for
Black Shuck to be abroad ; for he revels in the roaring of the
waves and loves to raise his awful voice above the howling of the 
gale.

Black Shuck is the " Moddey Dhoo " of the Norfolk coast. 
He takes the form of a huge black dog, and prowls along dark 
lanes and lonesome field footpaths, where, although his howling 
makes the hearer's blood run cold, his footfalls make no 
sound. You may know him at once, should you see him, 
by his fiery eye ; he has but one, and that, like the Cyclops', 

is in the middle of his head. But such an encounter might bring 
you the worst of luck : it is even said that to meet him is to 
be warned that your death will occur before the end of the year. 
So you will do well to shut your eyes if you hear him howling 
shut them even if you are uncertain whether it is the dog fiend 

or the voice of the wind you hear. Should you never set eyes 
on our Norfolk Snarleyow you may perhaps doubt his existence, 
and, like other learned folks, tell us that his story is nothing 
but the old Scandinavian myth of the black hound of Odin, 
brought to us by the Vikings who long ago settled down on the 
Norfolk coast. Scoffers at Black Shuck there have been in 
plenty ; but now and again one of them has come home late 
on a dark stormy night, with terror written large on his ashen 
face, and after that night he has scoffed no more.

from Highways and Byways in East Anglia (1901) 

by William Alfred Dutt.