If you can believe the Roberts--and they write as if they expect you to, with trick photographs for a clincher--America swarms with the ghosts of her war dead. Here is John Brown still fighting slavery at Harper's Ferry, a dead Confederate officer appearing to his men while George Washington himself encourages the Union forces at Gettysburg, a modern teacher stumbling into a Revolutionary camp at Valley Forge, and two Tory farmers who never did deliver their message to Cornwallis: ""Year after year this dreadful pair comes riding, riding out of the past, out of the world of the dead."" Peacetime is scarcely quieter, with old Henry Comstock still picking away in the Nevada mine he founded over 100 years ago, a phantom riverboat captain spooking boys along the Mississippi, the famous Bell Witch of Tennessee raising general tarnation, the author herself reporting on a lovely lady's hand she saw rising from a fountain in a New York State inn, and Aaron Burr's daughter lost in that voracious Bermuda triangle. ""What deadly and invisible force does this place in the Atlantic Ocean possess?"" None at all, last we heard.