ghostes. He reckon' he gwine be a heap mo' comfortable in he mind sence
he know' dey ain' no ghosts, an' he reckon' he ain' gwine be skeered of
nuffin' never no more. He ain' gwine min' de dark, an' he ain' gwine
min' de rain-doves whut go', "Oo-_oo_-o-o-o!" an' he ain' gwine min' de
owls whut go', "Who-_whoo_-o-o-o!" an' he ain' gwine min' de wind whut
go', "You-_you_-o-o-o!" nor nuffin', nohow. He gwine be brave as a lion,
sence he know' fo' sure dey ain' no ghosts. So prisintly he ma say':

"Well, time fo' a li'l' black boy whut he name is Mose to be gwine up de
ladder to de loft to bed."

An' li'l' black Mose he 'low' he gwine wait a bit. He 'low' he gwine jes
wait a li'l' bit. How 'low' he gwine be no trouble _at_ all ef he jes
been let wait twell he ma she gwine up de ladder to de loft to bed, too.
So he ma she say':

"Git erlong wid yo'! Whut yo' skeered ob whin dey ain't no ghosts?"

An' li'l' black Mose he scrooge', and he twist', an' he pucker' up he
mouf, an' he rub' he eyes, an' prisintly he say' right low:

"I ain' skeered ob ghosts whut am, 'ca'se dey ain' no ghosts."

"Den whut _am_ yo' skeered ob?" ask he ma.

"Nuffin'," say' de li'l' black boy whut he name is Mose; "but I jes feel
kinder oneasy 'bout de ghosts whut ain't."

Jes lak white folks! Jes lak white folks!

FOOTNOTE:

[K] Copyright, 1913, by The Century Company.

SOME REAL AMERICAN GHOSTS

THE GIANT GHOST

(Philadelphia _Press_, Sept. 13, 1896)

A case in point is the Benton, Indiana, ghost, which is attracting much
attention. It has been seen and investigated by many people with
reputations for intelligence and good sense, but so far no explanation
of the strange appearance has been found.

A farmer named John W. French and his wife were the first to see this
apparition. They live in the country near Benton, and were driving home
one night from a neighbor's. The road passed an old church, moss-covered
and surrounded by a graveyard, overgrown with shrubbery and filled with
the bones of hundreds who once tilled the soil in the locality. Ten
years ago an aged man who lived alone not far from the old church and
visited the graveyard almost daily to pray over the resting place of
some relative was foully murdered for the store of gold he was supposed
to have hidden about his hermit abode. The robbers and murderers escaped
justice, and the luckless graybeard was buried in the graveyard where he
spent so much time. Just as