Harvey Parker, the hotel's developer, who died in 1884, is said to inhabit the 10th-floor annex; and was once described by a spooked guest as "a heavy set older man with a black mustache," according to the hotel's website. Elevators also arrive at the third floor (where Charles Dickens stayed for a time) without any buttons being pushed or anyone awaiting a lift.

This townhouse was the home of Dr. George Parkman, who was murdered and dismembered in 1849 in Harvard's Holden Chapel, the university's first cadaver room. He continues to disquiet the premises.

The church off Harvard Square was a redoubt of Tory sympathizers during the Revolution; and one British soldier, buried as he was under the church building, still haunts the pews, looking for his regiment.

The recently rehabbed Hyde Park landmark hosts a fairly pleasant ghosts who has earned the sobriquet "Smilin' Al" in honor of Al Jolson, who played the Everett a century ago.

The old hotel, built in 1901 and converted to a B.U. dorm in 1947, is said to be haunted by ghosts so brazen they set traps for unwitting persons.

A Bostonian named Peter Rugg is said to have disappeared on a stormy night during his return trip from Concord. The clatter of his horse and carriage can still be heard on the west side of the bridge.

First spotted in the late 1880s, this ladylike ghost is said to wander the intersection of Lamartine and Green streets, around Johnson Park in Jamaica Plain, late at night. She is often so tuckered out by the traipsing that she can be seen resting on area walls and fences.

The island was the site of a notorious Confederate prison, and is haunted by the angry widow of an inmate, the so-called Lady in Black. She came all the way from Georgia to rescue her man, only to die in the attempt.

Find a sober Emerson student (they're out there) and you may very well hear tales of moving chairs and suspicious power outages.

This grand Tudor mansion was the residence of royal governors until Washington's army kicked their asses out of Boston at the start of the Revolution. According to a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne, however, an old housekeeper named Esther Dudley stayed behind to await the return of the king's men, a return, of course, that has never come.

This creepily named spit of land was the site of many a hanging back in the day, including, in 1648, the execution of the first New Englander convicted of witchcraft. The isthmus no longer exists, of course, but the troubled souls of the strangled still murk about.

The ghost of an old man apparently haunts a hallway memorializing World War II.