“Lor’, no! Why, dere’s crowds of ’em sometimes. All de wicked, wiolent, furious old Gryphyns as ebber libbed dere—which none ob ’em ebber died in deir beds, yer know—all ob dem died wiolent deaths—holds high jubilee-la! dere ebbery night ’long ob all de debbils out’n de pit! Hush, honey! Dat ole house up dere is de werry mouf ob de black pit ob Satan! An’ ef anybody was to ’xamine, I reckon dey’d find de deep, dry well in de cellar was nuffin less dan a way down into dat same black pit ob Satan; and all debbils do come up an’ down it to hold high jubilee-la! along with all de wicked, furious ole ghosts ob de Gryphyns!”
“Has any one ever seen any of these dreadful orgies?” inquired David Lindsay, with an incredulous laugh.
“You may laugh, young marster,” said the old negro, in an offended tone; “but ef yer persists in goin’ an’ stayin’ at dat ole debbil’s den, you’ll laugh on t’other side ob your mouf, I tell yer good.”
“Has any one seen any of these horrible spectres?” reiterated David Lindsay.
“Hi! What I tell yer? Didn’t Mr. Oberseer Cummings and Mrs. Housekeeper Brent bofe see an’ hear dem? An’ didn’t de ghost deject dem out’n de house? An’ I, my own self, wid my own eyes, a comin’ from de mill one night, passed in sight ob dat ole ghostly house. De night was dark as pitch! Dere was nyder moor nor stars, an’ I couldn’t hab seed nuffin only for my eyes gettin’ use to de dark, yer know. An’ I did look up to de ole ghost house, standin’ way up dere on de mountain, straight an’ black, against de dark sky, an’ I couldn’t see no windows fust, but all of a sudden I saw all de windows in de front ob de black looking house!”
With this culmination of horror, old Tubal made an awful pause.
But as no one made the expected exclamation of astonishment the old man inquired:
“Now, how does yer fink I saw all de windows in dat dark, deserted house on dat dark night?”
“Heaven knows!” said David Lindsay.
“Want me to tell you?”