The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry Part 7

Having spent a long and a very long winter's night in a haunted house with a corpse for his only companion, and having been treated with marked consideration by their ghostships in their not bothering him in any way, the writer feels under obligations to give the spirits a puff and keep alive their memory in an age of skepticism. He, therefore, craves the reader's patience while he relates the history of an invisible but exceedingly potent sprite that kept the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry in a terrible ferment for a long time and that to this day gives a name to a thriving village within a short distance of that town. Tourists who come to historic Harper's Ferry never fail to gather all the stories they can, not only of the town itself, but of the surrounding country, and it is partly for their benefit and partly to honor the spirits that treated him so cleverly, that the author gives the following legend. There are but few, indeed, in northern Virginia, who have not heard the tale a thousand times, with endless variations, all accounts, however, agreeing as to the main facts. The author has heard many versions of it, but he will give it as he got it from a gentleman now deceased--an ex-member of Congress and an ex-minister to one of the most important nations of Europe. This gentleman spent much of his youth in the immediate neighborhood of the village where the great mystery occurred and he was on the most intimate terms with one of the families that were conspicuous in the occurrence. Of course, he gave it as he received it himself. He was born when the spirit was rampant, but he got the story fresh from those who were witnesses to the mystery.

He was an eminent man and deeply learned--a graduate of Georgetown College--and the writer would give a great deal to be able to relate the story with the inimitable grace of his informant. Of course, he did not believe the legend himself, but he cherished it as a memory of his childhood and as a choice morsel of folklore.

THE LEGEND OF WIZARD CLIP.

In the southwest part of Jefferson county, West Virginia, within less than a mile of the Opequon river so famous in the late war, is a drowsy though well-to-do village that rejoices in three names--Middleway, Smithfield and Wizard Clip. The first of these names it got from its being exactly the same distance from Winchester, Martinsburg and Harper's Ferry, and this is the name acknowledged in the postal service.

The second name--Smithfield--is derived from a very respectable family of the far extended Smith clan that has resided there a great many years. The last--Wizard Clip--it got from a singular legend, connected with a house that once stood in the outskirts of the village. This building, except a part of the foundation, has long since succ.u.mbed to time. Not far from the site of the house is a tract of land known as "The Priest's Field" which at one time belonged to a resident of the aforesaid mansion--a man named Livingstone--but now forms a part of the lands of Mr. Joseph Minghini. In the old burying ground of the village is, or at least was shown a few years ago, a mound known as "The Stranger's Grave" and these singular names will be explained by the story.

Some time about the commencement of the 19th century a Pennsylvanian, named Livingstone, moved from his native state and purchased the farm on which was the residence above referred to. He and his family took possession of the house, and for several years they prospered.

Livingstone used to say that he had been unfortunate in life before his moving to Virginia, and he was fond of contrasting his former failures with his success in his new home. He is said to have been a man of a mild and genial disposition, but tradition has it that his better half was of a different temper and that, figuratively, she wore the garment which is supposed to be the 'special prerogative and attribute of the male s.e.x. The facts of our tale, if indeed, they are bona fide facts at all, appear to bear out the popular estimate of the family, with the addition, perhaps, that Mr. Livingstone was of a credulous turn of mind, which exposed him to the machinations of some designing neighbors, who took advantage of his unsophisticated nature and who, perhaps, were not sorry to punish the wife for her lack of amiability. It should be noted that the period of our tale long antedates railroads and steamboats.

Goods were then conveyed entirely by horse power and the princ.i.p.al road from Baltimore and Alexandria to southwest Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee pa.s.sed through Middleway. In consequence, long convoys of wagons were constantly pa.s.sing along this road which was within a few yards of Livingstone's house. About three miles east of this residence, also on this road, lived an Irish family, named McSherry, from whom are sprung the many highly respectable people of that name who now adorn nearly every learned profession in West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania, especially that of medicine. Between these two residences lived Joseph Minghini--an Italian--the grandfather of the gentleman referred to as now owning the tract of land called "The Priest's Field."

The Minghini of our tale had accompanied the famous general Charles Lee from Italy when that eccentric character was obliged to fly from the land of Caesars, but finding himself disappointed in his patron had set up for himself in the neighborhood of Middleway. So much for a preface and now for our story.

One evening a stranger called at Livingstone's house and asked for a night's lodging. This was accorded to him cheerfully by Livingstone and, in justice to the lady of the house, it must be recorded that tradition is silent on the subject of what she thought of her husband's hospitality and, being an impartial chronicler, the writer will give her the benefit of any doubt on the subject, especially as it turned out afterwards that she had good reason to regret her having "taken in the stranger." The family and their guest conversed for a good part of the night, as is customary in Virginia on such occasions, and the new acquaintances separated about 10 o'clock, Mr. Livingstone conducting the stranger to a sleeping apartment and then betaking himself to his own. After having slept some time, the master of the house awoke and became aware of queer noises coming from the direction of his guest's apartment. He arose, knocked at the stranger's door and inquired what was the matter. The occupant replied that he was very sick and that he had a presentment that he could not live 'till daylight. At the same time he entreated that a Catholic priest should be sent for to shrive him--that he had been brought up in the Catholic faith, but that he had neglected religion when in health. Now he would gladly accept its consolations, for he felt himself to be in extremis. Livingstone replied that he knew of no priest of that faith anywhere near, and that he could not hope to find one closer than in Maryland. He remarked, however, that he had neighbors who were Catholics--meaning the McSherrys and the Minghinis--and that they might set him on the track make inquiries of those people. On this, the wife who, too, had been aroused, and woman-like, was listening to the conversation became very angry and told her husband that, if he was fool enough to start out on such a wild-goose chase, she would take good care to thwart him, even if he succeeded in finding the clergyman, which was unlikely enough. She was determined, she said, to hinder any Romish priest from entering her house, and that the best thing Livingstone could do was to return to his bed and leave the stranger to his fate. The good-natured and well-disciplined husband submitted and again retired to slumber. Next morning the guest did not appear for breakfast and Livingstone, a good deal alarmed, went to the stranger's room and found him dead. The neighbors of the family knew nothing of these occurrences, and the Livingstones would not be likely to say much about them, unless they were driven to a disclosure by the pangs of terror and remorse. They, however, had the corpse on their hands, and, of course, the fact of the death could not be concealed. A few neighbors were notified, and the unknown was committed to nameless grave.

No other designation can be given to him than "the unknown" because the stranger had not revealed to the family his name or anything connected with his history, except in the few remorseful words to Livingstone, when he confessed to the sinfulness of his life. No clue was ever found to his name, family or nationality, but, as the Livingstones did not report any peculiarity in his accent, it is to be inferred that he was an American by birth or very long residence.

On the return of the family from the funeral late in the evening they built a good fire and took their seats around it, discussing, no doubt, the untoward occurrences of the previous night, when, suddenly the logs jumped, all ablaze, from the fireplace and whirled around the floor in a weird dance, sputtering sparks all about the room and seeming to be endowed with demoniacal power and intelligence. Poor Livingstone, too, danced around, trying to put out the fire, but it took him a long time to do so, and no sooner had he thrown the smoldering sticks back into the fireplace than they jumped out again and went through the same performance as before, and Livingstone was again obliged to hustle for the safety of his house. This was repeated at short intervals until daylight, and the family did not get a moment's rest during that memorable night. How the amiable lady of the house managed to cook breakfast, tradition does not say, but from the fact that nothing is related of suffering by the Livingstones from hunger, it is to be presumed that the "spook" let up on them for a little while and allowed them to get something to eat.

Worn out, scared and disconsolate, the hapless Livingstone walked down to the road that pa.s.sed his house, the highway before referred to, and was immediately greeted by a rough wagoner, who had stopped his team and who wanted to know why the devil Livingstone had stretched a rope across the highway and fastened it to a tree on either side, so as to impede travel. Livingstone knew that there were trees, as the wagoner said, on both sides of the road, but he saw no rope and wondered what the apparently drunken teamster meant by accusing him of such an absurd thing. The driver angrily demanded that the obstruction be removed at once and Livingstone disdained to make any reply, the infuriated teamster drew a knife and slashed at the rope, but the blade met with no resistance and, while the obstruction was palpable to his eye, it was but an airy nothing to his touch. It was now the wagoner's turn to be amazed. He knew not whether to offer an apology or not and, while he was still pondering the matter, another team arrived and its driver went through the same performance as the other, with the same result. At length, Livingstone mildly suggested that they should drive on, regardless of the intangible rope and so they did and pa.s.sed along without difficulty, attributing their delusion, no doubt, to the bad whiskey of the neighborhood. Soon, however, other teams arrived and again the spectre rope was in the way and again were repeated the perplexity and the profanity of the first encounter. Every new arrival brought the luckless Livingstone a fresh cursing, and so it was kept up for several weeks. In the course of time, the demon, now acknowledged to be around the place, adopted a new method of annoyance. A sharp, clipping noise, as if from a pair of invisible shears, was heard all through and around the house and, worse yet, all the clothes of the family, their table cloths and bed coverings were cut and gashed, the slits being all in the shape of a crescent. Of course, the news of these unearthly doings soon spread, and people from all directions crowded to see and hear what was going on. There are still preserved in some families pocket-handkerchiefs that were folded in the pockets of their owners when they visited the place, but, yet, were cut and marked in his peculiar way by the demon of the scissors that kept up his "clip-clip"

around them while they were condoling with the afflicted family. One lady visitor was complimenting Mrs. Livingstone on a fine flock of ducks that were waddling through her yard on their way, perhaps, to the neighboring Opequon, when "clip-clip" went the uncanny and invisible shears and one after another the ducks were all cleanly decapitated in broad daylight before the very eyes of the ladies and many other witnesses.

At that time there lived in Middleway a German tailor, who, though fully imbued with the mysticism of his native country, yet regarded with contempt all vulgar superst.i.tions, or what he considered to be such. He boasted that he would stay all night alone in the house supposed to be haunted and that, if he had time enough to spare for the purpose, he could expose the imposture of the wizard clipping. He had just finished a suit of broad cloth for a neighboring planter and had made up the clothes in a neat package, when on his way to deliver them he pa.s.sed Livingstone's house, grinning at the folly of his neighbors in believing that the place was tenanted by an evil spirit. "Clip-clip" went the terrible scissors around the ears of the German who, in the plenitude of his incredulity, invited the author of the sounds to "go for d.a.m.n." He proceeded to the house of his employer, opened his bundle with professional confidence and pride, to exhibit his model suit, when, lo!

and behold! he found the clothes full of the crescent shaped slits and utterly ruined.

The excitement continued to spread and far and near extended the fame of "Wizard Clip." One night a party of youngsters of both s.e.xes a.s.sembled at the house for a frolic, got up by the young men of the neighborhood, who desired to show to the world and especially to their sweethearts that =they= were not afraid, whoever else might be so, and curiosity led many young ladies to the scene, in spite of the terrors of the place.

They were, perhaps, desirous to test the courage of their lovers, and trusted for protection to the big crowd in attendance. One rough, bl.u.s.tering fellow came all the way from Winchester, carrying his rifle.

He was courting a girl of the neighborhood of Livingstone's place, and he determined to show off to the best possible advantage. Things proceeded smoothly for awhile, and the young people were engaged in a dance when, suddenly, "clip-clip" went the goblin shears, and the Winchester hero felt something flap against the calves of his legs. He reached down to investigate and found, to his consternation, that the most important part of his nether garment had been cut loose from the waist band and that there was nothing left for him to do but sit down and keep on sitting 'till the festivities were over. His condition soon became known to the others and, great as the terrors of the situation were, nothing could prevent the company from t.i.ttering, until the hapless hero found his plight so painful that he resolved to leave the house, which, for the sake of delicacy, he was obliged to do by backing to the door, while the ladies coyly looked in another direction.

Numberless are the tales related of the queer doings of the demon with his invisible and diabolical scissors. Poor Livingstone lost heart and even his wife's masculine courage gave way. The whole neighboring country was, of course, intensely excited. One night Livingstone had a dream. He thought he was at the foot of a hill on the top of which was a man dressed in sacerdotal garments and appearing to be engaged in some religious ceremony. While looking towards this strange man, the afflicted dreamer became aware of the presence with him of some disembodied spirit that whispered to him that the man in the priestly garb could relieve him from his great trouble. He awoke and immediately formed the resolution to appeal to some minister of the gospel to exorcise his tormentor--the fiend of the "clip." He applied to his own pastor, a Lutheran preacher who, of course, had heard of the affair, as had everybody in the state. To please Livingstone, the reverend gentleman visited the haunted house, but he experienced a reception so hot that he concluded not to try issues any more with so potent a spirit, and he left without accomplishing anything. Livingstone now remembered that the minister of his vision wore priestly vestments and, on the failure of his own pastor, he concluded that the party to help him must be one who was usually arrayed with such adjuncts in the performance of his rites. The Catholic, or perhaps the Protestant Episcopal must, therefore, be the denomination for him to seek aid from, and he found out from the Minghinis and the McSherrys that a certain Father Cahill, who used robes such as he had seen in the dream, would, on a certain day, be at Shepherdstown, about ten miles away, to hold Catholic service. They promised Livingstone an introduction to the priest, and on the day specified they accompanied their unhappy neighbor to the church meeting. At the first sight, Livingstone recognized in Father Cahill the minister he had seen in the dream, and falling on his knees and with tears streaming down his cheeks, begged to be relieved from the thralldom of the evil one. Having been questioned by the priest, he gave the whole history, including the unkindness to the stranger guest. Father Cahill, who was a jovial, big-fisted Irishman, alive as the Lutheran minister had been, to the absurdity of the whole affair, tried to convince the sufferer that he was merely the victim of some malicious practical jokers of his neighborhood. It was all in vain, however, to try to dispel Livingstone's fears, and for sheer pity and, perhaps, Irishman-like, not being averse to a shindy even with the devil himself, the good father consented to accompany Livingstone home, and do all he could to relieve him. At that time a Catholic priest was something heard of with awe and superst.i.tious dread in Virginia, but very rarely seen there, and it is likely that the perpetrators of the outrage on the hapless family were themselves victims of an unreasonable fear of something that was formidable only from its rarity and from attributes that existed only in their own ignorant and untrained imaginations. Anyway, it is recorded that never after the visit of Father Cahill were the diabolical scissors heard, and from that time peace again reigned in the Livingstone household, but the name of "Wizard Clip" still clings to the village and, it is to be hoped, that the legend will not be allowed to die out for, laugh as we may at those old time tales, they have a charm for even the most prosaic and skeptical. John Brown's fort is lost, forever, to Virginia, but it is a matter for thankfulness that, while brick and mortar can be disposed of to satisfy the love of gain, the traditions of a people cannot be converted into money and that sentiment cannot be sold by the square foot. Land-marks are more easily destroyed than folklore.

In grat.i.tude to Father Cahill, Livingstone before his death deeded to the Catholic church thirty-four acres of land, and this tract is what has ever since been named "The Priest's Field." The clergy of that faith, however, renounce all claim to the place because, no doubt, they felt that nothing in the spiritual ministration of Father Cahill contributed or was intended by him to contribute towards the object Livingstone had in view--the expulsion of a veritable demon. Father Cahill, like the Lutheran minister, went to the house merely as a friend and not in the character of an exorciser of a real spirit and, if the rascals who so cruelly tormented their harmless neighbor were more afraid of the priest than of the other minister, with whom they were no doubt familiar, it was no reason why a claim should be set up by the former of superior influence with Heaven. Mr. McSherry and Mr. Minghini were made trustees of the property, but by common consent, the land was left with the Minghinis and it is now theirs by prescription, perhaps.

In the county clerk's office in Charlestown, Jefferson county, West Virginia, can be seen the deed made by Livingstone and wife to Denis Cahill, the supposed exorciser of the fiend. It will be found in Book No. 1 of the County Records, and it conveys the t.i.tle to thirty-four acres of land--"The Priest's Field"--to Father Cahill and his successors. Our esteemed friend Clerk Alexander will be glad to show it to anyone curious to see it. The deed is dated February 21st, 1802.

Within about eight miles of Harper's Ferry is a sleepy hamlet which has quite a history in connection with several prominent men of the Revolution. It is called Leetown, and it has been heretofore mentioned in this history as the scene of a brisk skirmish in the war of the rebellion. As before noted in this book, it got its name from General Charles Lee who, after the censures incurred by him for his conduct at the battle of Monmouth, buried himself here in gloomy seclusion. Very near this village is also a house occupied by General Horatio Gates, of more honorable fame in our war for independence, and still another revolutionary general--Darke--lived in the immediate neighborhood of the place. So, then, a sauntering tourist might spend a little time pleasantly enough in visiting the neighborhood. It is but a few minutes'

drive from "Wizard Clip" and a curiosity seeker might easily take in many noteworthy sights in the course of a day's jaunt from Harper's Ferry. About five miles north of Leetown and in the immediate neighborhood of the battlefield of Antietam, is Shepherdstown, which is, or at least ought to be known to fame, as the home of James Rumsey who, it has been pretty clearly proven, was the first to apply steam power to purposes of navigation. On the Potomac, at Shepherdstown or Mecklenburg, as it was then called, was the first experiment made of propelling a boat by steam power, and the trial was made with success by Rumsey. In his life-time he was regarded by his acquaintances as a visionary, if not a decided maniac, but time has vindicated him, although the honor of the invention has been generally a.s.sumed to belong to others. There can be but little doubt that Rumsey antic.i.p.ated all the other claimants for the fame of the invention, although with them, too, it may be said to be original, as they probably knew nothing of Rumsey or what he had accomplished. Shepherdstown has a war record, also, for in a day or two after the battle of Antietam, a detachment of federal troops having crossed the Potomac into Virginia at the ford near the town, they were badly defeated by a force of the rebel army that attacked them unexpectedly.

Some ten or twelve years ago, a stranger arrived at Harper's Ferry and, without letting any one know what his business was, he purchased a pick and shovel, hired a horse and buggy, and drove up the Potomac taking the implements with him. He proceeded towards Shepherdstown, appearing to be very familiar with the road. When he arrived within a mile of the latter place, he halted, tied his horse to something available and looked around inquiringly. It took him but a short time to find what he wanted, for in a few minutes he approached a large tree and plied vigorously his pick and then his shovel around the roots. His labor was not in vain, for soon he exposed to view a fair sized box which he immediately transferred to the buggy, and at once returned to Harper's Ferry, without deigning to satisfy the curiosity of some parties who were attracted to the spot by the sight of him at work. It is generally supposed that he himself had buried a considerable treasure at the place while he was hard pressed by enemies at some time while the late war was in progress, and that, deeming it safe, and not being much in want of money, he had left it in its concealment for nearly thirty years. Some advanced the dream theory--that, in his sleep he had a vision of the buried treasure, but the stranger kept his own counsel and departed on the next railroad train for parts unknown.

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 n.o.body 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 superst.i.tion. 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 a.s.sistance 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 rest.i.tution. 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 superst.i.tious person. It would take more s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ces 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, G.o.d-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, pa.s.sed 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 appet.i.te 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 a.s.sailant 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d's n.o.blemen.

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 ent.i.tled 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.