Thanks, Beryl, That is all I can remember about them - the fright. On hot summer nights when the house was to hot to live in Daddy would go get a big, cold watermelon. All us kids would sit on the back porch in a huddle, eat watermelon and listen to Daddy tell the ghost stories. I was so scared, I would shake; but I would't fess up because I wanted to hear those stories. It is strange that I can't remember them. Elvira