Editors, Vineyard Gazette:

It seems a pity to spoil a good ghost story, but it so happens the favorite story of my childhood was one of how my great grandfather, Lot Rogers, laid the Crying Swamp ghost. None of the neighbors would go near the place at night unless it were a matter of urgent necessity, so great grandfather decided to do something about it.

I do not know whether he took with him a Bible or a stout oak stick, but out to the Crying Swamp he went on one of the wild windy nights that the ghost seemed to favor.

There is not much to tell of the queer narrative of the winged angel who visited Lambert’s Cove once and has never been seen there since.

This story did not actually take place on the Vineyard, but its actors were Vineyard people and it has a simple explanation which makes it, at least, an established fact on the records of spirit lore.

“I once heard my mother tell of a man who was driving a yoke of oxen home through the woods behind Ram’s Hill. He had been at work all day and was in a great hurry to reach home."

Near the north shore of the island just inshore from Cedar Tree Neck is what is left of the Crying Swamp. Here today is a small cranberry bog, surrounded by swamp bushes just like a hundred similar spots on the Vineyard.

To the Editor of the Vineyard Gazette:

The following, somewhat in line with the tales of the supernatural recently appearing in the Gazette, was told to the writer, a few years ago, by a resident of Gay Head, and is given for the benefit of others interested in the folklore of the Island.

Mr. E. C. Cornell, who spent the night of Friday last, with a companion at the Caleb’s Pond herring fishery, relates the following:

From the Oct. 25, 1985 edition of the Gazette. It's almost Halloween.

Vineyarders needn’t look too far to find something going bump in the night. Take, for instance, the ghost who resides at the county jail.

The night is dark. And it is Halloween.

You are driving home from a party in Chilmark near Windy Gates when your car's engine suddenly and unexpectedly dies on a dark, quiet road. Attempts to restart it prove futile, and with no cell phone reception, you are forced to search for help. A faint light far off in the dense woods signals a flicker of hope for salvation, so you grab your flashlight and head out.