The morning times., 1895-09-22

Mansion TO a reporter, who had curiously
wandered among the piles and heaps of old
paper books, rags, bones and iron to where
"Bre'r'' John William, as the typical black
debris raker is called by every individual
in the vast army of scraping humanity
which infest the dump, sat busily raking
through macs of broken crockery, chair
rounds. leaves of books ashes and what not,
in quest of a bit of substance that might
bring him few pennies in a junk shop.
A few words of greeting passed between
the old fellow and his interviewer. and a
piece of chewing tobacco to the darky
seemed to touch weak spot. for, dropping
his wire poker. John william leaned back
on an antiQuated and battered gun pow
der can and began to talk.
The great heaps of paper would suggest
10 an imaginative brain spooks and phan-
toms, so naturally the conversation turned
on ghosts.
"Yas, sir''-and the negro turned his eyes
comically upward-"dese dumps am fairly
runnin' obcr wild ghos's. OBJ co'se. dey don
prowl roun' OBJ a day, but w'en de sun go
down in de wes an clouds elect bout ober
he'd den de ha'nts comes out, an nary
niggahIl come outcn der house ter cross
desc dumps. ieastwise, dis niggah won't"
did you ever see Il ghost on the Dump
the quaint old darky was asked.
HIS ONE GHOST.
.'on'y wunst. Dat wur two var ago,
wen de dumpin' wuz mostly back yander,
an I'll nebber fo'get it. neder.
"Durin' wah times, yo' know, big
house sot right down whar dat pile oh
chin cans is; on'y de groun' wuz berry low
way down, sab. Oar libbcd er white
man named Parker-Marse Joe Parker.
He b'longed ter church, but he'd more'n
twen'y niGgahs. De way he beat n cut
dem slabes wuz caution.
lone day" and a look of horror over
spread the narratorS face, "a powahful
big slabc-Jim wuZ his name-didn't do
wat Marse Parker toll him to, an he wuz
locked up in room 10 starbe til he wuz
a skiliton TO- punishm Fo' week,
sab. he stayed in dat dar room wild nothin
t cat'n drink, and den WIZ loosened- He
wuz so scant he could hahdly walk.
Jim Marse Parker sayed, is you
wilin' ter beg nah pahdin?
IL aint done nothn' t beg it fo',' says
Jim.
Den Marse Parker pulled out pistle
an shot po' Jim daid. Vas, sab: ez daid
eZ dat tree lin.
Wen Marse died S house wuz pulled
down. but ebbry since oil Jim hez been
walkn' round desc dumps.
But lcmme tell you. Bout two vars
ago l he'd mizery in nah lef' leg, an tho't
III go obcr ter a drug sto' an git sumpin'
fo' it. II wuz nigh ontah 'leben clock
wen l stahted FUN wah shanty, witch
sits right down dar-you kin see it. l
hedn't took twen'y steps TO 1 heerd
cracklin' like monst a lot OBJ papahs near
me. l churned round an dar right side
me wuz man. kin sayI wuz skeered, but
dat don't come a mile { it wen 1 recker-
nized Of daid Jim
Mopping his head furiously with the
edge of his sleeve, John william continued:
"Peple say dat dey gifts col' sweats
but | didn't. No, sab. De sweat wat
popped out On my haid an face wuz ez hot
ez bilin' watah, but nah back felt IS if
ice hunks wuz slidin' down it.
Il looked 'wunst at jim. who seemed
jest like his OF se'f-big an tall an wild a
grin on his face-jest eZ he wuz in wah
times. Whoo! l jest looked wunst, an
wen / foun' mahse'f l wuz clear obcr
on de Tre's'ry steps l didn't go home dat
night, an swo' dat I'd move way de next
ay: but Use still hyer. but I nebber seed
Jim ag'in.
GHOSTS OTHER PEOPLE SAW.
''Dar's a nudder ghos' what Sallie John
sing seen las spring vile she wuz on her
way FUN wuk down town, an Bill Per-
kins, he seen it, too. It's man what wuz
killed by fallin' inter a hole one dahk
night.
Den Lucy Webb's leetle dorter seen a
ghos' on'y free weeks ago, an it nearly
killed her wild frite."
As John William began to look un-
easily at the rubbish at his feet and half
filled greasy sack at his side. the reporter
took it for granted the old man wished
for solitude once more, so, leaving him,
the reporter walked, or rather stumbled,
to where a "mammy' sat, surrounded by
numerous children of all ages, each hook
in hand
'Howdy, sah,'' saluted the old woman,
and each little, dirt-begrimed pickaninny
grinned.
How late do you stay on the Dump"
inquired The Times reporter.
up to sundow," answered the old
woman
Don't you pick rags on moonlight
niGhts?"
No. sab. not me-" quickly answered
the old woman, look of awe creeping
over her sooty countenance.
Afraid of haunts," suggested the re-
porter
Deed is, an amt 'fraid ter say it.
speerits comes round hyer, shuah. Got
a leetlc 'baccah what you'll glib me ter
snuff. please sab"
The weed was forthcoming, and as in the
other case it proved an incentive for |
speech
II seed you talkin ter Brer John Will |
lum obcr dare. Dat man ana de most un-
holyist crtter hyer and swar he nebber |
vent TO chu 'ch in his life but onct, and dat |
wuz Wen 4 flud comed up an filled dat |
gully wild watah. His house floated often |
de groun and twas two days TO he could |
git it to sho' an git inside. Us folks tor |
i'm he ort to Go~to chuch ez de Lowd he'd |
floatcd his house off TO show him dat he |
wuz a sinful oil man. He went next Sunday, |
but rebber arter dat"
How about his stories of ghosts on the |
dumps?" said the scribe.
''Ab co'se dar am speerits on de dump, |
but M W Him to say dat Brer John willum
nehber seed one, cause he gifts in dat
house oh hisen oh night an dar he stay.
No mount OBJ coaxin' kin bring him out.
''De only speerit ebber seed bout heab,"
the old woman added voluntarily, .'wuz
de speerit of Hen'y Thomas what got killed
in fit wild Lew Mold'n one ebnin' down
yonder near de ribber. 1 wuz pickin' up
kindlin wood TO- de fiah las winter
ober Deah dat peece oh weeds an bummin'
Lawd Sabe de Sinners wen UP cum de