“Hunh!  My mother said it cover my head, shoulders and all!  I kin see ghosts.  Was a man lived right dere in dat house yonder.  His name was Will Beasley but we call ‘im Bee.  De fus’ time he got sick he had a stroke, den he git up.  De doctor told him to be careful but he would go out.  One night about 8 o’clock I see him go.  I stay sittin’ here on dis porch, and about 10 o’clock here come Bee out of his house, in his night clothes out de open door and cross de yard.  He go behind dat house.  I call out:  ‘Bee, I thought you was gone off?  He didn’ notice me no more dan I never spoke.  I got worried about him bein’ sick and when he come out from behind de house I say:  ‘Bee, you bes’ be gwine indorrs, dress lika-dat.  You git sick again.’  He walk straight back in de house.  Pretty soon here come Bee down de street, all dressed up in his brown pants and white shirt!  I grab de bannister just’ a-tremblin’ and de hair rizzed up on my head.  I knowed den he ain’ got long for here.  He come on by and say:  ‘Nancy, how you feelin’?’ I say:  ‘Bee, how long you bin out?’ He say:  ‘Why, I bin gone since 8 o’clock.’  I didn’t say nuttin’ but I knowed I seed his spirit and it was his death.  He tooken sick two or three weeks later jus’ before Labor Day, and died all paralyzed up.  A woman come to my house and say:  ‘Nancy, give dis to Bee.’  I didn’ want to see him if he dyin’ but I went on over.  I call:  ‘Bee!  Bee!’ He say:  ‘Who dat, you, Miz’ Nancy?’ I say:  ’Here’s a bottle of medicine Miss Minnie sont you.’  He say:  ‘I can’t move my right side.’  He was:  laying wid his leg and arm in the air:  stiff as a board.  He say:  ‘Miz Nancy?’ I say:  ‘Hunh?’ He say:  ’Go down de canal bank and tell my Minnie please come and rub me ‘cause she know how.  I want my Minnie.’  Das de ’oman he bin livin’ wid since his wife lef’ him.  I wait till de King Mill boys come along and call ’em.  ‘Tell Miz’ Minnie dat Will Bee want her to come and rub him.’  But she never did come till 12 o’clock and he was dead before she come.

“I did had a niece what died.  She was about 20 years old and a good boy.  Twas a year in August.  I went on so over him, his mother say:  ’Don’t you know his last words was, ‘I’m on my way to heaven and I ain’ gwine turn back?’ Don’t worry, Nancy.’  But I did worry.  Dat night he come to me in spirit.  He stand dere and look at me and smile, and he say:  ‘Aunt, I am all right.  Aunt, I am all right,’ over and over.  Den it went off.  I was jus’ as satisfy den, and I never worry no more.”

Nancy said she saw ghosts all through her childhood.  She did not characterize them as “hants” but spoke of them throughout as ghosts.

“I seed ’em when I was chillun,” she said, “me and my sister one night was comin’ from spring.  Twas in de winter time and jus’ as cold, twas dark and I had de light.  Sister say:  ‘Babe, don’t let dat light go out.’  Jus’ den I seed it—­a horse’s head all spread out in fore!  A big ball of fire!  I yelled:  ‘Oh, sister,