Читать книгу: «The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country», страница 14

THE ENCHANTER'S WHEEL

Starting from the railroad bridge at Harper's Ferry and running northwest, with the railroad track for six miles to Duffield's Station, is a region that has ever been the home of wizards, witches and all kinds of adepts in occult lore, besides being a favorite resting place for gypsy caravans. The construction of the railroad many years ago was the first interruption to the dreams of magic, and, then, the civil war, with its very practical ideas and, above all, perhaps, the subsequent introduction of free schools have completed the delivery of the worthy inhabitants from the very galling yoke of many professors of the black art – African and Caucasian – who profited in money and reputation by the fears they excited and the fees they received for cures or immunity. In justice, it must be stated that the whites, mostly of German origin, were generally of a benevolent character and that the practice of their art was always directed to counteract the malevolence of the negroes who seldom devoted their mystic knowledge to any good purpose, especially where any member of their own race was concerned. They always appeared to have an instinctive dread of the superior race and were shy of practising on the white man, unless under very strong temptation. The gypsies alone keep alive the old order of things, appearing to have nobody to punish and every one to reward with a rich wife or a gallant husband for the trifle of crossing the sibyl's palm with a piece of silver. Indeed, they are not charged with molesting the person or property of any one. On the contrary, they are ever invoking the blessings of Venus, on the conditions above mentioned. Time has in no way changed their habits.

Two generations ago great was the fame of the professors – white and black – but now it is difficult to get any one of either color, unless some octogenarian, to relate what used to occur in the olden times. They appear to be afraid of the imputation of superstition. In this way many interesting and even poetic legends are likely to be lost.

Of the white seers the most renowned was the miller – John Peacher – a Pennsylvania Dutchman. He was a man of excellent reputation, and the only people who had any complaint to make of him were the evil doers, especially the thieves. It was useless for a thief to steal anything from John Peacher, for it had to be returned, and by the culprit himself, in broad daylight. Peacher's friends, too, if they reported to him any loss were merely told to wait a little for the stolen article. So, neither Peacher nor his friends ever complained to a law officer of any losses, feeling very certain that the missing would return. In consequence, it was no unusual sight to see seated on a fence near Peacher's mill, or the house of one of the miller's neighbors, a man, nearly always a negro, with a bundle of some kind tied up to suit the contents. There the visitor sat until late evening, if not asked to get off the fence and tell his business. Even then, it was with extreme difficulty that he could get off his perch, and some were known to invoke the assistance of the proprietor to unfasten them. The man was sure to be a thief, and the bundle always contained the stolen article, which was laid at the feet of the lawful owner – the proprietor of the place – Peacher or some one of his friends who had reported to him a robbery. On one occasion a wagoner on his way to Georgetown drove his team past Peacher's place and abstracted from a wagon that belonged to Peacher some part of the gearing, with which he proceeded to Georgetown, fifty-seven miles distant. Peacher soon discovered the loss but, as usual, he "lay low" and waited for the certain issue. In a few days a man was seen to approach Peacher's place early in the morning afoot and carrying an apparently heavy load. When he reached Peacher's gate, he climbed one of the posts and rested his load on the fence nearby. No one questioned him, for Peacher and his domestics recognized the articles, the loss of which was known to them from the time of the theft, and the presumption was that the man was the guilty one. There the culprit sat without a word until the benevolent Peacher thought that the penitent might be hungry and sufficiently humbled. Peacher invited the stranger to get off and come into the house to get something to eat, but the hapless thief was glued, as it were, to the seat and not 'till Peacher chose to break the spell could the crestfallen victim get off his perch. He then confessed his guilt and told how his conscience did not trouble him a bit until he reached Georgetown with his plunder, when some impulse forced him to leave his team in the city and walk back, carrying the stolen articles, instead of waiting for his regular return trip to make restitution. After his meal he commenced his journey back, afoot, to the city for his team and in some time after rode past Peacher's place on his home trip, but did not stop. How Peacher worked his charms he never revealed, except that he said he had a wheel by the turning of which, as the case demanded, he effected his wonderful exploits at thief-catching. The wheel he never exhibited. For many years after his death there was a common phrase in the neighborhood, "I'll introduce you to Peacher's wheel," whenever any one was suspected of knavish practices – especially a child or a superstitious person. It would take more space than we have allotted to ourselves to relate a tenth of the exploits of Peacher with his magic wheel.

THE WITCH'S OVERSIGHT

Of an entirely different type as to nationality, color and moral standing, was Jesse Short, a disreputable negro scamp who enjoyed an immense reputation for powers of mischief, and who got credit for nearly every mysterious thing that occurred in the neighborhood, if only it was of a disreputable kind. Nearly all of the houses had low porches at their front doors, and the very narrow spaces underneath were enclosed with lattice work, so close that a robin could scarcely force himself inside and, if he could, he had very scant room to hop for a little exercise. It often happened, however, that in the early morning the ears of the family were greeted with the bleats or grunts of a well grown sheep or porker belonging to some neighbor that had found its way or for which a way had been found, in some uncannie manner to enter, and which had to crouch very low to find room for itself. But although an entrance had been found for it, there was no exit until the porch was torn down. All this and many other such pranks were put to the credit of Jesse until he enjoyed a fame equal to that of Michael Scott, and was the great terror of the country all 'round. Like John Peacher of better character, he performed too many feats for recital in this modest-sized book, but we will relate one that was witnessed, and is vouched for by at least two parties of unexceptionable character, who are still living, one of them being the victim of Jesse's unholy practices, who can still exhibit marks left on her person by the wizard's touch.

Jesse was a slave on the Miller estate, about four miles northwest of Harper's Ferry. Near this plantation was another owned and occupied by John Engle, a pious, God-fearing man, some of whose children are yet alive. As far as we know there are two – Mr. James Engle and his sister, Mrs. Margaret Moler. When these were very young children, their father owned or hired a colored girl to whom our hero, Jesse, desired to pay attentions and with this view, often visited Mr. Engle's house. Mr. Engle, however, positively forbade those visits on account of Jesse's very bad reputation. It was supposed that our hero was deeply offended at this exclusion from the company of his lady-love, and secretly vowed vengeance, although his countenance and general bearing towards the Engle family did not betray his real feeling. One day he visited the house, ostensibly to convey some message from his master. While he was waiting for a return message, Margaret, the five year old daughter of Mr. Engle, who is now the widow of a Mr. John Moler, passed close to him. The negro patted the child and appeared to have a desire to ingratiate himself with her, but the little girl screamed wildly as soon as his hand touched her, and she showed the utmost horror of him. Her screams continued until she got into fits and the greatest difficulty was experienced in restoring her temporarily to her normal condition. But the little one was not the same from that time. Day by day she failed, lost appetite and could not get natural sleep. In a month she was reduced from a hale, hearty and lively child to a mere spiritless skeleton, and hope of her recovery was almost abandoned. At that time regular physicians were not as plentiful as they are now, and old mammies of either color were mostly depended on, especially in cases of ailing children. The Engle family were then, as they are now, among the most respectable in Jefferson county, and, from regard for them as well as for natural sympathy, every mother in the neighborhood and every skillful woman aided in trying to restore the poor child, but in vain. When the little tot was almost exhausted somebody remembered that across the Potomac, in Maple swamp, a place inhabited in a great measure by half-breeds descended from the Indians, lived a certain Mrs. Mullin, whose fame for occult knowledge was wide-spread. Indeed, she was a power even among the professors themselves. To her as a last resort the parents of the child appealed. The benevolent old lady responded at once, and crossed the Potomac on her mission of charity. She took the child on her knee, without the least repugnance on the part of the little girl. What mystic words or rites the old lady used, tradition does not say, but she took from her pocket a pair of scissors and with deliberation clipped the nails from the fingers of the child – from all but one finger – and herein lies the wonder, for the child at once began to improve and, as we have before mentioned, is still alive and hearty at an advanced age, with the full use of all her limbs, except that one finger, the nail of which Mrs. Mullin failed to clip. That finger is crooked and that one alone. It has never been straight since that day, about seventy-five years ago, when Mrs. Mullin, either by accident or design, failed to treat it as she treated its fellows. It never pains her, however, and merely gives a sign of something designed to be a mystery. Mrs. Mullin, as far as we know, never tried to rectify the omission or make any explanation.

THE REMORSEFUL DOG

About half way between Duffield's and Shenandoah Junction, on the south side of the B. & O. railroad, and very close to it, is to be seen the grave of General Darke, heretofore mentioned as one of the famous men of the Revolution, who once lived in that region which is embraced in the present county of Jefferson, and whose homes were very close to Harper's Ferry. General Darke is the hero of the neighborhood, and many of the best people of Jefferson county, are proud of the kinship to him, which they claim. His personal history would, indeed, read like a romance, but our proposed limits forbid us the pleasure of giving it in detail. We will merely relate one of his adventures and a curious tale told of a dog belonging to him that figured in connection with his master's story. We have but the general's own words to prove the truth of most of the tale, but he was a man of undoubted veracity and, besides, he had no motive for inventing the story. We have heretofore given an account of great sagacity manifested by a dog owned by Colonel Lewis Washington and, as the farms on which the dogs were born are but a short distance apart, it is probable that General Darke's dog was a remote ancestor of that of Colonel Washington, and that the extraordinary intelligence they both displayed was a family trait. The exact period of our legend is unknown, but it probably was a few years after the Revolution.

General Darke then lived near the spot where he now rests from his life's work, surrounded by many of his veterans and relatives, by whom he was much revered. The general, like the great majority of men, was fond of a good dog, and was very jealous of the fame as well as careful of the bodies of his dumb favorites of that species, which he kept around him. One dog was his 'special pet. Tradition does not tell what breed he belonged to or his name, as it does in the case of Colonel Washington's "Bob" – neither does it inform us of his caudal advantages or deficiencies. Indeed, in the case of "Bob" there is no need, yet awhile, to question tradition, for we all, whose hair is gray, knew him, that is all of us who in 1859 were acquainted with the hospitable home of the colonel.

One day one of the general's neighbors complained to him that his – the neighbor's – meat house had frequently of late been robbed and that, having watched many nights for the thief, he had at last got ocular demonstration that the general's favorite dog was the culprit. The general would not deny the fact of the robbery, but he plainly denied the guilt of his dog and, although the complainant was a man of the utmost respectability, the general still stood up for his humble friend. An agreement was finally made that the general himself should watch – which he did and, besides, every night he barricaded the room in which the dog used to sleep, and left the animal not the least chance, as he thought, to leave the house without permission. The master kept listening, too, for any sound from the dog's room that would indicate an effort to escape, and for some nights he heard just enough noise to prove that the dog was in his proper place. One night, however, he thought the stillness unnatural, and his suspicion was aroused. He entered the dog's room and found it vacant. He also found a hole either in the wall of the room or at the foundation, through which it was easy to make a noiseless escape. The general at once started in pursuit and encountered the dog on the way from the neighbor's meat house whither the master's suspicions led him. The dog had a large piece of meat in his mouth, which he at once dropped on recognizing his owner, and then made a hasty retreat out of sight. Of course, the general made all the apologies due from him to his wronged friend, and the trouble between them was forever ended. The dog, however, was never again seen in that neighborhood.

In some years after General Darke had occasion to travel to Ohio. He made the journey on horseback, the only method at that time. One night he took lodging at a lonely inn among the wilds of the Alleghany Mountains. On alighting he noticed several suspicious-looking men lounging around, but the general was a brave man and, besides, he had no choice, so he remained at the house. He kept awake all night, however, but he was not molested. Next morning he started to continue his journey, but he had not advanced far before a very rough-looking man jumped from behind a fence and ordered him to halt. At the same time a dog bounded from the same direction to the road, and at once caught the assailant by the throat and dragged him to the ground, holding on with a death grip to that peculiarly dangerous part of the human anatomy to be seized by. Whether the man was killed or not tradition does not say, but he was rendered hors de combat. The general recognized in the dog his own former pet, but the dog again fled from before the face of his old master, by whom he was never again seen. The general returned to the inn, reported the affair to the landlord and made special inquiries about the dog. All he could learn was that the animal had appeared at the inn a long time before, and that, the family having taken a liking to the stray, it was allowed to remain. The dog was not to be seen at the inn at least, until the general departed finally, nor is it known that he ever did return and, as far as we know, he was never again seen by any of his old acquaintances.

Harper's Ferry has always been noted for the number of ministers of religion it has produced. It would be impossible to name all of them in view of the limit we have set for ourselves. A few, however, whom we ourselves have taught and prepared for learned professions, we feel justified in mentioning. They are Fathers Edward Tearney, James T. O'Farrell and John Bowler, of the Catholic church; the Reverend McFadden brothers – John, Harry and Frank; the Reverend C. B. Price and the Reverend A. S. Yantis – the last five of various Protestant denominations. We are proud of those boys, their genuine piety, their learning and the great good they are reported as doing. No bigots are they who can see no good in anybody that differs from them, but they found their belief and their life-practise on the glorious "Sermon on the Mount" and have a good word for everybody. This is the way to win souls to God, and they have found it.

Various eminent men, not natives of the place, however, have served in the ministry at Harper's Ferry. The Rt. Rev. J. J. Kain, the present Arch-Bishop of St. Louis, and the Rt. Rev. A. Vandevyver, Bishop of Richmond, were formerly priests in charge of the Catholic church there. The venerable Dr. Dutton of the Presbyterian church also served there and was the hero of a remarkable adventure in the great flood of 1870, which we have noted elsewhere. The last mentioned there were held in extraordinary honor. Many believe that the coming great man of the Catholic church in America is Bishop Vandevyver, of Richmond. He is certainly one of God's noblemen.

There are now serving in the ministry at Harper's Ferry the Reverend Messrs. Marsh of the M. E. Church, and Sullivan and Farring of the M. P. Church, also, the Reverend Father Collins, Catholic priest. We have not the pleasure of much acquaintance with any of those gentlemen, but they are, we know, men of very high character. Father Collins' father we knew well – a better man never lived and we take him for a guarantee for his son's excellence. We have been thrown a good deal into company with the Reverend J. D. Miller of the Protestant Episcopal church, and in our judgment, he is a gentleman of profound learning and a high degree of polish and amiability. We always listen with high pleasure to his conversation, the more so because he never tries to convince his hearers that he "knows it all," although it is plain that he knows a great deal, and that the day is not far off when he will make a very distinguished mark. He is making it now.

In giving the names of Harper's Ferry-born clergymen we might have mentioned Father William Lynch, pastor of the Catholic church at Roanoke, Virginia, who, if not quite a native of Harper's Ferry came very near having that claim on us. He was born and brought up at Halltown, within four miles of Harper's Ferry, and those four miles deprived the ancient village of the honor of being his birthplace, and us of the credit his education would have conferred on us. He is, however, regarded by us as one of our own, and the author is as glad of the great success the good father has met and is meeting with as if he himself had made him as he made the others. From this rather extended notice of the ministers of religion to the credit of Harper's Ferry it must not be inferred that the place is not entitled to the honor of having produced other men of marked ability who adorn other professions. Some sixty years ago was born in Bolivar, a suburb of the place, the Hon. E. Willis Wilson, an eminent lawyer of Charleston-on-the-Kanawha. The civil war broke out just at the time when he had got a fair education and his studies were, of course, interrupted for a time. His native energy, however, was too much for any obstacle and as soon as the reverberation of the cannons ceased around his native place, he went to work at the study of law, entered politics, and was chosen to fill various places of honor and trust until he was elected governor of West Virginia, and was inaugurated on the same day that saw the same ceremony for President Cleveland. The election of Governor Wilson was the more remarkable for the violent opposition to him on the part of all the monopolies in the state and his was a triumph for the right as well as for himself. His administration was a model one and as he is young enough for further usefulness, the people of West Virginia will not lose sight of him.

Another native of the place has risen to eminence in the law. The Hon. James D. Butt was brought up under some disadvantages in the matter of education, caused by the civil war but, as he was young enough at the cessation of hostilities to resume his interrupted studies, he made up for lost time. He is now Referee in the Bankruptcy Court of his native district.

In medicine, too, Harper's Ferry has many sons to be proud of. William, George and Robert Marmion, three sons of Dr. Nicholas Marmion, were themselves famous physicians and surgeons, especially in diseases of the eye and ear. The second – George – died some two years ago, but the oldest – William – is still practising in Washington City, and ranks among the very highest in the profession. The youngest – Robert – is in the U. S. Navy. They were all our pupils in the long past.

Another pupil of ours is Dr. Joseph Tearney, now employed by the B. & O. railroad. He has practised a good deal at this, his native place, and, although he is yet a young man, he has, and justly has the reputation of possessing wonderful skill in his profession. Personally, he is emphatically a "good fellow" with a big, generous heart, as is well known to many a needy patient. So, with his acknowledged ability, the confidence he inspires, and the magnetism that draws every one to him, he cannot fail to become a veritable celebrity. And he, too, was a pupil of ours. He never forgets the old tie and the "old man" is very much the better for the remembrance.

We would be ungrateful indeed if we forgot Drs. Howard and Claude Koonce, young physicians, natives of Harper's Ferry and two of our old pupils. They are sons of Mr. George Koonce, prominent in the politics of West Virginia. They stand very highly in their profession and are whole-hearted young men.

On October 17, 1859, John Brown and his small band of followers, swooped down on Harpers Ferry. The B & O right-of-way was the scene of the first fighting and two railroad employees were among the first casualties. Upon arrival of the eastbound night passenger express at Harpers Ferry the train was surrounded by a cordon of riflemen. In the darkness a shot was fired and Station Porter Haywood Sheppard fell, dying. During the wild firing Station Master Beckham also was killed.

When word of this incident reached the B & O President, John W. Garrett, he immediately notified the Secretary of War. To quell the uprising, a detachment of ninety Marines, under Colonel Robert E. Lee, was sent to the scene. The Abolitionist leader, and his followers, were captured after a pitched battle, and Brown was tried and hanged on December 2, 1859.

Because the Baltimore & Ohio was the main east-west link available to the Government for the movement of its soldiers, the B & O carried much military freight and many troops during the Civil War years. At the start of the war the railroad operated almost normally, running through areas held by both armies. But, as the battles progressed, there were frequent interruptions to rail service and repeated damage to B & O tracks and equipment.

The record of the Civil War disaster, from 1861 to 1865, was unequaled by the history of any other private industry in America. That the railroad's engineers and workmen rebuilt the road in the face of enemy gunfire is a memorable tribute to their skill and courage.

After the end of hostilities, thousands of troops traveled over the full length of the B & O main line, from Washington, D. C. to Parkersburg, W. Va., where they boarded steamers for Cincinnati, Louisville and other river cities.