“When aw wur a lad—(but that wurnt yusterday, nor th’ day before, nor any day last wick)—aw used to be trayted neaw and then to wot wur cawd a good ghost story. Owd foak then wur vast fond o’ ticklin’ yung foaks’ yers wi’ tales abeawt hobgoblins, ghosts, carnivorous giants, vampyres, ogres, un aw macks o’ uncouth beeins. Aw railly believe they thowt sitch tales wur profitable, morally un’ religiously speighkin’, un’ had little thowt abeauwt th’ uproar ’ut they caused amung eawr juvenoile nerves. Weel con aw remember beein’ neaw un then freetunt till it wur th’ herdest job i’ th’ world to keep my heart fro’ other roisin’ up into my meawth, or skutterin’ deawn in t’ clugs. My yure would ha’ stood up loike th’ bristles uv a dleetin’ brush, un’ th’ best com ut ever wur made would ha’ fawn a victim to any attempt to smooth it deawn to its gradely place; nay, aw believe if anybuddy had tried wi’ a par o’ curlin’ tungs to make it twist, they’d ha’ brokken um loike owd chips. These tales gien me no partikilur noshun as to wot ghosts wur; praps th’ tellers had no very clear ideo theirsels; but aw geet o sort uv a general inklin’ ’ut they wur a very quare, a very extriordinary, un a very wilful set o’ beeins; some on um vast fond uv a toidy practical joke; un aw on um i’ their element when they wur potterin’ foaks’ plucks to make eawt wot the dickens they meant by their merlocks. “For some days th’ good foaks o’th’ city o’ Manchester have had before their een uppo’ th’ waws, un’ i’th’ shop windows, bills printed i’ black un flarin’ red ink, th’ letters big enoof welly for a bloint chap to see, anneawncin’ at th’ Lunnun New Music Haw th’ appearance uv a ‘Mervellous Ghost’—_King’s_ Ghost! as a roival to that uv Professor Pepper. Loike aw curious foak ’ut are made hongry wi’ expectashun, aw went th’ other neet to have a look at it, imaginin’, as aw went alung through th’ streets, that at last aw should get a peep at a spectre uz would carry back my moind to my yung days, un gie me some inseet into th’ naytur and essence uv sperrits—not sitch as one beighs at th’ keawnter uv a _vault_, but sitch as proceed fro’ th’ clay tenement that lies, moshunless, decayin’ within. Aw durnt know but aw felt a little bit sayrious too, un’ a tunchy bit groiped wi’ fear, for it met be that th’ seet would be made doubly awful by th’ appearance uv my gronny’s ghost; if it wur, un hoo seed me, hoo’d be shure t’ gie me a blisterin wi’ hur tung, for hoo wur a raddler at takkin’ th’ sheighne eawt on me wi’ that glib little member uv hus. But when th’ ghost did appear—or _should_ have appeart in its full proposhuns, by th’ mack aw fun’ mysel as far fro th’ possesshun uv a genuine crumb o’ ghostly wisdum uz ever aw wur i’ my born days. It should ha’ bin an illustrious