un out of his trousers so quick that very few
ever get bitten.

I have visited the Lake at various times and under different
circumstances, but do not recollect that anything unaccountable
happened to me but once, which I will relate: On one occasion as I was
going down the canal, toward the Lake, the driver of the skiff
exclaimed, "Boss, did you see dat?" "No," I exclaimed; "What was it?"
"It was a ball of fire." "A what?" I said. "A jack-mer-lantern," said
he. "And what is that?" I asked. "It's a sperit. I ceed dem ebery
nite, an' when I go to kotch one dey ain't nobody." "Then you believe
in spirits?" "Yes, sar; dat I dus. When I pass Paradise Old Field I
kin always see dem." "Have you ever been told anything about the ball
of fire and Jack-mer-lantern, as you call them?" "Yes, sir; dat I
hab." "Then let me hear what you have been told." "Yes, sir; Boss,
I'se gwine tu tell you de God's trufe." "Well, proceed." "Boss, I'm
gwine to tole you dey tole me dat long time 'go dat a man by de name
of Pluter was come up dar in dat field wid a 'omun, an' dat dey loss
demselves, an' hab neber bin seed since; and dat ebery nite wen you go
by dar you kin see somfin. One nite as I was gwine 'long I thort dat
a ball of fire wus gwine tu hit me in de face. I axed who wus dat;
nobody said nuffin. I hit at it an' it turned to a Jack-mer-lantern."
"And what was that," I asked. "I 'spec dat it wus dat man Pluter, an'
de ball ob fire wus de 'omun dat wus wid him." "And they are what you
call 'sperits?' Then you are a natural born fool; if you do not shove
this boat along I will break your head with this pole." "Boss, I shall
always blebe in dem sperits."

It is very true that some very mysterious and unaccountable things
were seen when passing Paradise Old Field, by the side of the canal,
by persons on their way to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, but in very
few instances, and then only by nervous persons of diseased minds. You
might travel up and down the canal as often as you choose and outside
of snakes and pole cats nothing would ever appear. Do not let snake
stories deter you from visiting this wonderful and beautiful place,
the Lake of the Dismal Swamp. As the boat was being driven along, the
driver said: "Boss, did I nebber told you about de big watermillion
that Mars. Caleb Busby foun' near dis place?" "No; let me hear
something about it." "Well, sir, I will tole you. One day as Mars.
Busby was gwine tu de Lake, an' wen he got rit