In the book The Melodeon by Glendon Swathout, he told of a stange encounter he had as a boy during the depression. On Christmas eve Glendon and his grandfather were carting a old melodeon on a stoneboat pulled by an Rumley oil pull in the dead of night through a blinding snow storm. The grandfather was old and became over-come with fatigue and couldn’t go on so Glendon and the neighbor girls had to go on alone taking the organ to the church themselves.
When they reached the church the kids couldn't unload the huge instrument by themselves and the boy’s great-grandfather Ephriam (who had died in the Civil War) suddenly appeared out of the cemetery and helped them unload it.
Well, to make a long story longer some years ago I wrote this story up into a play and did it as a reading at Christmas time with a group of friends. I talked one of the friends into hiding in the basement (unknown to the others)
Pat (a guy) was to appear at the time that Ephraim's ghost was to make his appearance for added dramatic effect.
Pat came to the house that night in a rented Civil War costume complete with sword. I was quite taken aback as that wasn't planned but much appreciate.
During the appointed scene when Pat stepped through the door into the room a complete stillness engulfed the small group and several faces turned ashen as if they were indeed seeing a ghost. I even felt a cold chill. It was a momentous experience and one that we’ve talked and laughed about often.
In one scene Ephraim said to one of the little girls, (that had helped bring the organ to the church) if she told what she saw that night he would “Fetch her a swat on the backside with his sword that would make her ears fall off.” Pat made a couple of swipes with the sword swish-swish-swish.

The following summer I decided to visit the graves of Will and Ella, Ephraim and Sarah Chubb. As I mounted this hill I heard the same faint swish, swish, swish that Pat had made that night with the sword. When I would turn around the sound would stop. Going on I would hear it again. It kind of spooked me, but I went on.
At the top of the hill I stopped to gaze at their markers still there for all to see.

I took this picture of the hill last Sunday. The cemetery was on my route of Livingston County Cemeteries that I’m cataloging for the Library. I did not go to the top of the hill, but I'm sure Ephraim's still there guarding it with a swish-swish-swish of his sword.