From the September 3, 1892, edition of the Wheeling (West Virginia) Daily Intelligencer is our adaptation of their ghost story called The Black Ghost:
It was shortly after the Civil War that John Boggs, former captain in the local Confederate cavalry, was setting in the shade of a chestnut tree, on the ridge back behind his house in Virginia. As he sat there enjoying the breeze and wondering what was for supper that evening, he suddenly had the distinct feeling he wasn’t alone.
John looked up and before him, to his amazement, was a ghost. And not just any ghost, but one who was as black as coal. Right there, in broad daylight. According to John:
“It was the strangest ghost experience that any man ever had. People have met with all kinds of ghosts; ghosts with long hair, ghosts with armor on, fat ghosts, skinny ghosts, quiet ghosts that sneak into a man’s room at night and sit on his bedpost and stare at him, ghosts with their throats cut from ear to ear. But of all the ghosts I ever heard about, they were all white and they always appeared at night!”
The ghost then spoke.
“Captain John Boggs?”
John nodded to the apparition, which continued to speak.
“Boggs, would any well-bred person ask a ghost a question?”
Boggs responded in the negative. The ghost then said:
“No, Boggs, a well-bred gentleman would never ask a reputable ghost a question. You are a well-bred gentleman, aren’t you Boggs?”
John told the ghost that he hoped to be considered just such a gentleman. At that answer the ghost seemed to be very satisfied.
“You’d like to know why I’m a black ghost, wouldn’t you? And why I appear in the daytime.”
John said, yes, of course he would. He then asked the ghost to sit down and make himself comfortable. The ghost shook his head and muttered something about being unable to sit because he’d left his key. That caused Mr. Boggs to ask himself whether this ghost needed to unlock himself in order to sit down. Immediately the ghost sensed that question in John Boggs’ mind and said:
“Boggs! Boggs! You are going to ask a question? Oh, Boggs!”
John insisted that he wasn’t going to do that and got the ghost settled down. Pretty soon the ghost began to tell his story.
It turns out that what was standing before John Boggs was the spirit of a deceased coal miner. And this particular coal miner was probably the hardest working coal miner there ever was. In fact, you could say he was born and bred for the mines because he pretty much lived underground, and died there, without seeing much of the outside world. According the ghost, he didn’t reckon he’d had more than six months outdoors in his life.
The ghost then told John that after he had died and found out he had to serve a stint as a ghost, he raised a stink right then and there. He protested to the powers-that-be that he’d lived his whole life in the dark and he’d be damned if he was going to prowl around in the dark of night after his death in order to scare people. He told them he wanted to stalk people in broad daylight. And, don’t you know, his demand was granted!
The problem was, regular white ghosts are pretty much invisible in the daytime. So he was made a black ghost, so that he could stand out in the bright sunshine.
“That’s my story”
said the ghost, who shifted around on his feet and stared off into the distance, waiting for a response from Mr. Boggs. But John was speechless; besides, he only had questions, questions which he was bound not to ask for fear of being thought less than a well-bred gentleman. He stood there, biting his tongue.
Soon the silence was too much, even for the black ghost.
“Boggs, does my head look ok?”
John replied that it looked fine, even as it started to shimmy and shift around when a bee suddenly flew through it.
“It hurts, Boggs. I’m treating it for that or, at least my doctor is. Did you know ghosts have doctors?”
John didn’t know. What he did know was that he was now burning with questions to ask this dark spirit.
“I don’t believe that quack knows anything. The first thing you know, my head will run into consumption and there will be another dead ghost around!”
More questions popped into John’s head.
The ghost continued:
“Now this morning he took a tub of blue ink, added cayenne pepper and three pounds of fresh garlic and heated it boiling hot. Then he called me in and unscrewed my head and poured it in.”
John could hold it in no longer.
“Unscrewed your head and poured it in? For God’s sake, what did he do that for?”
With that came a sudden shrill shriek from the ghost, followed by a stifled gurgle. John realized that with that question asked, the black ghost had vanished forever, taking his mystery with him.