Читать книгу The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country - Joseph Barry - Страница 2

Harper's Ferry, including Bolivar, is a town which, before the war of the late rebellion, contained a population of about three thousand – nine-tenths of whom were whites. At the breaking out of hostilities nearly all the inhabitants left their homes – some casting their lots with "the confederacy" and about an equal number with the old government. On the restoration of peace, comparatively few of them returned. A great many colored people, however, who came at various times with the armies from southern Virginia, have remained, so that the proportion of the races at the place is materially changed. Also, many soldiers of the national army who married Virginia ladies, during the war, have settled there and, consequently, the town yet contains a considerable number of inhabitants. The present population may be set down at sixteen hundred whites and seven hundred blacks. The village is situated in Jefferson county, now West Virginia, at the confluence of the Potomac and the Shenandoah, at the base and in the very shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountain. The distance from Washington City is fifty-five miles, and from Baltimore eighty-one miles. The Baltimore and Ohio railroad crosses the Potomac, at the place, on a magnificent bridge and the Winchester and Potomac railroad, now absorbed by the Baltimore and Ohio, has its northern terminus in the town. The Chesapeake and Ohio canal, also, is in the immediate neighborhood. Within the last twelve years, the place has become a favorite summer resort for the people of Washington City and, from about the first of June to the last of October, it is visited by tourists from every part of the northern states and Europe.

The scenery around the place is celebrated for its grandeur, and Thomas Jefferson has immortalized it in a fine description composed, it is said, on a remarkable rock that commands a magnificent view of both rivers and their junction. The rock itself is a wonderful freak of Nature and it is regarded by the inhabitants with pride for its being a great natural curiosity, and with veneration on account of the tradition among them that, seated on it, Jefferson wrote his "Notes on Virginia." It is, therefore, called "Jefferson's Rock." It is composed of several huge masses of stone, piled on one another (although the whole is regarded as one rock) the upper piece resting on a foundation, some years ago, so narrow that it might easily be made to sway back and forth by a child's hand. It is supported now, however, by pillars placed under it, by order of one of the old armory superintendents, the original foundation having dwindled to very unsafe dimensions by the action of the weather, and still more, by the devastations of tourists and curiosity-hunters. It is situated on the south side of "Cemetery Hill," behind the Catholic church, the lofty and glittering spire of which can be seen at a great distance, as you approach from the East, adding much beauty to the scene. The first church building there was erected in 1833 by Father Gildea. In 1896 the old edifice was torn down and a beautiful one substituted, under the supervision of the Rev. Laurence Kelley. There can be no doubt that this church, at least, is "built on a rock," for there is not soil enough anywhere near it to plant a few flowers around the House of Worship or the parsonage, and the worthy Fathers have been obliged to haul a scanty supply from a considerable distance to nourish two or three rosebushes. If "The Gates of Hell" try to prevail against this institution they had better assault from above. There will be no chance for attacking the foundation, for it is solid rock, extending, no one knows how far, into the bowels of the earth or through them, perhaps, all the way to the supposed location of those terrible gates themselves.

On one side, the Maryland Heights, now so famous in history and, on the other, the Loudoun Heights rise majestically, and imagination might easily picture them as guardian giants defending the portals of the noble Valley of Virginia. The Maryland Heights ascend in successive plateaus to an altitude of thirteen hundred feet above the surrounding country, and two thousand feet above the level of the sea. The Loudoun Heights are not so lofty, but the ascent to them is difficult and, consequently, as the foot of man seldom treads them, they present the appearance of a more marked primeval wildness than the Maryland mountain – a circumstance which compensates the tourist for their inferiority in height. Between these two ramparts, in a gorge of savage grandeur, the lordly Potomac takes to his embrace the beautiful Shenandoah – "The Daughter of the Stars," as the Indians poetically styled this lovely stream. It will be seen, hereafter, however, that this usually serene and amiable damsel, like the daughters of men, is subject to occasional "spells" of perversity, and that, when she does take a tantrum she makes things lively around her. The former river rises in western Virginia and, tumbling from the Alleghany Mountains in an impetuous volume, traverses the northern extremity of the Valley of Virginia, forming the boundary between "The Old Dominion" and the State of Maryland. At Harper's Ferry it encounters the Blue Ridge, at right angles, and receives the tributary Shenandoah which, rising in the upper part of the great valley, flows in a northerly course, at the base of the same mountain, and unites its strength with the Potomac to cut a passage to the Ocean. This is the scenery of which Jefferson said that a sight of it was worth a voyage across the Atlantic, and no person with the least poetry in his soul will consider the praise extravagant. It is, truly, a sublime spectacle and imagination, when allowed to do so, lends its aid to the really wonderful sublimity of the scene. On the rugged cliffs, on both the Maryland and Loudoun sides are supposed to be seen, sculptured by the hand of Nature, various shapes and faces, the appearance of which changes with the seasons and as they are concealed more or less by the verdure of the trees. The giant, dwarf, centaur and almost every other animal of Nature or of Fable are here portrayed to the eye of Faith. On one rock, on the Maryland side, is a tolerably well defined face with an expression of gravity which, with some other points of resemblance, will remind one of George Washington, and, at almost any hour of any day, may be seen strangers gazing intently on the mountain in search of this likeness. Frequently, the Bald Eagle wheels in majestic circles immediately above this rock and, then, indeed, the illusion is too agreeable to be rejected by the most prosaic spectator. George Washington, chiseled by the hand of Nature in the living rock, on the summit of the Blue Ridge, with the Bird of Victory fanning his brow, is too much poetry to be thrown away and common sense matter of fact is out of the question. Of late years, a new feature has been added to the scene which gives it quite an alpine appearance. Shortly after our civil war, a man named Reid, who then lived at the foot of the Maryland Heights, procured a few goats for the amusement of his children. The goats multiplied rapidly and gradually spread up the side of the mountain, where their opportunities for mischief in gnawing the bark of trees and for avoiding the attacks of dogs were practically unlimited. Their number is now Legion and they frequently gather in great crowds on the overhanging rocks, always in charge of a dignified old buck, with a patriarchal beard, and look down placidly and, may be, with contempt on the busy hive of men below. Perhaps, the old buck often thinks, "'What fools those two legged mortals be.' They call themselves Lords of the creation and claim to own us, free sons of the mountain, and even our neighbor, the eagle, but I would like to see one of them climb up the face of this cliff and jump from crag to crag as the feeblest of my clan can do. There they go crawling along, and when one of them wants to travel a few miles he must purchase a railroad ticket for a point to which my friend, the eagle, could arrive in a few dozen flaps of his wings without the care and trouble of baggage or the fear of a run-in or a collision." Such may be and such, it is to be feared, ought to be, the reflections of that old buck.

Before the war, the Loudoun Heights used to be the favorite roosting place of immense numbers of crows that, during the autumn and winter foraged all over the Shenandoah Valley and all the rich grain lands east of the Blue Ridge, as, also, Middletown Valley and the proverbially fertile region between the Catoctin and the Patapsco. About an hour before sunset, advance bodies of the vast army would appear from every direction and, before daylight had died out, it is no exaggeration to say, the whole sky was obliterated from view by myriads upon myriads of the sable freebooters. For some reason best known to themselves, these birds do not, at once, settle down to rest, on arriving at their encampments, but wheel and circle 'round, as if none of them had a fixed perch, and, from their deafening and angry cawing, it may be inferred that, every night, they have to contend for a convenient sleeping place. Sometimes, it would appear as if they were holding a court, for, bodies of them are seen, frequently, to separate themselves from the main crowd and, after conferring, as it were, beat and banish a member – presumably a criminal – and then return to the rookery. During the war, they disappeared and, no doubt, sought a more peaceful home. Besides, in those sad years agriculture was neglected in this region and it may be supposed that these sagacious birds sought for plenty as well as peace. Even after the war, they no longer frequented the Loudoun Mountain, but took to the Maryland Heights, where they may be seen every morning and evening in the autumn and winter, starting out on their forays or returning to their inaccessible resting place. Their numbers vary very much, however, for, during several consecutive years, they will be comparatively few, while for another period, they will appear in countless thousands. They always disappear in the spring to fulfill the great law of increase and multiplication, but, strange to say, a crow's nest is a comparatively rare sight in the Virginia or Maryland woods, and as far as the writer is advised, it is the same in the neighboring states. The farmers are unrelenting enemies of the crows, and they never neglect an opportunity for their destruction, and the sagacious birds, knowing this by instinct and experience, no doubt, take special pains to protect their young by rearing them in the least accessible places. Some day, perhaps, we will know what useful part the crow takes in the economy of Mother Nature. That he does something to compensate for the corn he consumes, no reflecting man will be disposed to deny but what that service is, certainly, no Virginia or Maryland grain producer appears to have discovered, if we are to judge from the amount of profanity heard from those hard-fisted tillers of the soil, when the subject of crows is mentioned.

At a point unapproachable from any quarter by man and not far from Washington's profile, is a crevice in the rock which has been ever the home of a family of hawks that, like the robber knights of old, issue from their impregnable fortress and levy tribute from all that are too weak to resist them. They prey on the beautiful and useful little birds that are indigenous, often extending their ravages to poultry yards. The only way to destroy them is by shooting them with single bullets, while they are on the wing, for they fly too high for shot. Their screams are peculiarly harsh and cruel, and they often mar the peaceful serenity of a summer evening. The people would compromise with them gladly, if they would war on the English sparrows, but as far as the author knows they never do that, recognizing, no doubt, and respecting a kindred depravity. May the shadows of both nuisances grow rapidly less! But, hold; not so fast. They too, perhaps, have their uses in the nice balance of Nature, and their annihilation might cause an injurious excess somewhere. How inconsistent, even a philosopher can sometimes be!

Near the hawks' fortress there is a traditional beehive of immense proportions. No one has seen it, for, like the hawks' nest, it is inaccessible to man, but wild bees are seen, in the season of flowers, flying to and from the place where the hive is supposed to be, and it is believed that there is a very great stock of honey stored away, somewhere near, by many generations of these industrious and sagacious creatures. They, too, and the hawks and crows, as well as the goats and eagles, may have their own opinion of the would-be Lords of creation, and it may be well for us of the genus homo that we do not know what that opinion is.

It is supposed by many that the whole Valley of Virginia was, at one time, the bed of a vast sea and that, during some convulsion of Nature, the imprisoned waters found an outlet at this place. There are many circumstances to give an appearance of truth to this theory, especially the fact that complete sea shells, or exact likenesses of them, are found at various points in the Alleghany and Blue Ridge Mountains. Be this as it may, the passage of the rivers through the mighty barrier is a spectacle of awful sublimity and it well deserves the many panegyrics it has received from orator and poet. A good deal depends on the point from which, and the time when, the scene is viewed. The writer would recommend the old cemetery and 10 o'clock, on a moonlight night, especially if the moon should happen to be directly over the gorge where the rivers meet. Then the savage wildness of the prospect is tempered agreeably by the mild moonbeams, and the prevailing silence adds to the impression of mingled sublimity, and weird loveliness. Let no one fear the companionship of the still inhabitants of "the City of the Dead." They are quiet, inoffensive neighbors and they, no doubt, many a time in their lives, admired the same scene and, like the men of to-day, wondered what this whole thing of creation and human existence means. Perhaps they know it all now and, perhaps, they do not. Any way, their tongues will not disturb one's meditations, and it may be that their silence will furnish a wholesome homily on the nothingness of this life and the vanity of all earthly pursuits.

Robert Harper, from whom the place gets its name, was a native of Oxford in England. He was born about the year 1703 and, at the age of twenty years, he emigrated to Philadelphia where he prosecuted the business of architecture and millwrighting. He erected a church for the Protestant Episcopalians in Frankfort, which edifice, however, through some defect of title, was afterwards lost to the congregation for which it was built. In 1747 he was engaged by some members of the Society of "Friends" to erect a meeting-house for that denomination on the Opequon river, near the site of the present city of Winchester, Virginia, and, while on his way through the then unbroken wilderness to fulfill his contract, he lodged, one night, at a lonely inn on the site of what is now the city of Frederick, Maryland. While staying at this hostelry, he met a German named Hoffman to whom, in the course of conversation, he communicated the business that took him on his journey and, also, his intention to proceed to his destination by way of Antietam, a name now so famous in our national history, for the terrible battle fought there during the late rebellion. Hoffman informed him that there was a shorter route, by way of what he called "The Hole," and, as an additional inducement, he promised him a sight of some wonderful scenery. Harper agreed to go by the way of "The Hole" and, next night, he arrived at that point and made the acquaintance of a man named Peter Stevens who had squatted at the place which was included in the great Fairfax estate. Harper was so much pleased with the scenery that he bought out Stevens for the sum of fifty British guineas. As, however, he could only buy Stevens' good will, the real ownership being vested in Lord Fairfax, he, next year, paid a visit to Greenway, the residence of that nobleman, and from him or his agent he obtained a patent for the lands formerly occupied by Stevens on the precarious tenure of squatter sovereignty. Stevens had held the place for thirteen years and the agents of Lord Fairfax had experienced great trouble from him. They were, therefore, very glad to be rid of him. Harper settled down there and established a ferry, when the place lost the undignified name of "The Hole" and acquired the more euphonious title of "Harper's Ferry" by which it has, ever since, been known and by which, no doubt, it will be designated by the remotest posterity. At that time, there was but one dwelling there – the Stevens cabin – which was situated on what is now called Shenandoah street, on the site of the house at present owned by Mr. William Erwin and used as a drug store, liquor saloon, and a boarding house. Harper lived in this house, many years, until about the year 1775, when he built one about half a mile farther up the Shenandoah, where he died in 1782.

Mr. Harper was a man of medium height and considerable physical strength. He was very energetic and well suited for pioneer life. He left no children, and his property descended, by will, to Sarah, only child of his brother Joseph, and to some nephews of his wife, named Griffith. Sarah Harper was married to a gentleman of Philadelphia, named Wager. He was a grandson of a German of the same name who, many years before, had emigrated from the city of Worms in Hesse Darmstadt. Neither Mr. Wager nor his wife ever saw their Harper's Ferry property, but many of their descendants were born there and some of them are now living in the neighboring cities, owning still a considerable estate at their old home. Of this family was the late venerable Robert Harper Williamson, of Washington city, the first person having the name of Harper who was born in the town. The wife of Judge Swaim, a few years ago of the Supreme Court of the United States, was one of the Wager family and their son was General Wager Swaim, much distinguished in the Union army during the late rebellion. Just as this goes to press we learn of his death.

Mr. Harper was interred on his own property and his moss-grown grave is yet to be seen in the romantically situated cemetery that overlooks the town – the same heretofore mentioned, as affording the best point from which to view the scenery. By a provision of his will, several acres of land were bequeathed to the place, as a burial ground – his own grave to be in the centre – and now, a very large number sleep their dreamless sleep in a beautiful though until lately a sadly neglected cemetery around the founder of the village.

Few of the events that transpired in Mr. Harper's time are recorded. Shortly after building the house on Shenandoah street he erected a large stone dwelling on what is now called High street. This house yet stands and occasionally it is occupied by some of his heirs. He experienced great difficulty in finishing this building, owing to a scarcity of mechanics, nearly all the able-bodied men of the place and neighborhood having gone to join the army of Washington. It is recorded that an intimate friend of Mr. Harper, named Hamilton, lost his life in this house, by an accidental fall and this tradition, coupled with the age of the house, gives a sombre character to the building. At the time of Mr. Harper's death, therefore, there were but three houses at "The Ferry."

In 1748, there was a great flood in the Potomac, which, according to some memoranda left by the founder of the place, drove him from the house he then occupied – the Stevens cabin – and another, though a less freshet, called "The Pumpkin Flood," is recorded as having occurred in 1753. The latter derived its name from the great numbers of pumpkins which it washed away from the gardens of the Indians who, then, resided in scattered lodges along the two rivers.

It is said that, at the commencement of the Revolution Mr. Harper's sympathies were Tory, but that, soon, he espoused the cause of his adopted country.

In 1794, during the administration of General Washington, Harper's Ferry was chosen as the site of a national armory. It is said that the great Father of his Country, himself, suggested it as the best location then known for the purpose, having visited the place in person. This is a tradition among the people and, if it is true, it is characteristic of the most sagacious of men. The water-power at the place is immense, some people supposing it to be the finest in the world. The Valley of Virginia and that of Middletown, as well as the fertile plains of Loudoun, gave promise of an abundance of the necessaries of life and, perhaps, with the eye of prophecy, he saw railroads penetrating the wilderness of the Allegheny regions and transporting its then hidden mineral treasures to aid in the proposed manufacture of arms. In the year above mentioned Congress applied to the General Assembly of Virginia for permission to purchase the site and, by a vote of the latter, leave was granted to buy a tract, not exceeding six hundred and forty acres. Accordingly a body of land containing one hundred and twenty-five acres was bought from the heirs of Mr. Harper. This tract is contained in a triangle formed by the two rivers and a line running from the Potomac to the Shenandoah along what is now called Union Street. Another purchase was made of three hundred and ten acres from a Mr. Rutherford. The latter tract is that on which the village of Bolivar now stands. In some time after, Congress desiring to obtain the benefit of the fine timber growing on the Loudoun Heights and not deeming it proper to ask for any further concessions from the State of Virginia, leased in perpetuity of Lord Fairfax, proprietor of "The Northern Neck," the right to all the timber growing and to grow on a tract of thirteen hundred and ninety-five acres on the Loudoun Heights immediately adjoining Harper's Ferry.

Thus prepared, the government commenced the erection of shops, and in 1796, a Mr. Perkins, an English Moravian, was appointed to superintend the works. He is represented as having been an amiable, unsophisticated man, and tradition still tells of his simplicity of dress and deportment. During his time, nothing of moment occurred at the place. The town was yet in its infancy, with very few denizens, and, as the period antedates the time of that venerable personage – the oldest inhabitant – very little is known of what took place during Mr. Perkins' administration. One or two centenarians, now a few years deceased, however retained some faint remembrance of him and another Englishman, named Cox, who had been for many years employed under him as a man of all work, and who had followed him to Harper's Ferry from southern Virginia, where Mr. Perkins had formerly resided. On one occasion, Cox was required by his employer to attend to his – Perkins' – garden which was overrun with weeds. For some reason, Cox did not relish the job, but gave, however, a grumbling consent. Next morning, Cox commenced weeding and, towards evening, he presented himself to Mr. Perkins with the information that "he had made a clean sweep of it." The master was much gratified and he told Mrs. Perkins to give Cox a dram of whiskey for which the latter had a good relish. On visiting his garden next day, Mr. Perkins discovered that, sure enough, Cox had made a clean sweep. The weeds were all gone, but so were cabbages, turnips, carrots and everything else of the vegetable kind. In great wrath, he sent for Cox, charged him with every crime in the calendar and, with a kick on the seat of honor, ejected him from the house, at the same time forbidding him to show his face again around the works. Cox retreated hastily, muttering "the devil a step will I go – the devil a step will I go." He made his way to the shop where he was usually employed and, the good-natured Perkins, soon forgetting his anger towards his old follower, "the devil a step," sure enough, did Cox go from Harper's Ferry. Sir Walter Scott relates that a Scotch nobleman once addressed him in the following words an old and spoiled servant of his family who had given him mortal offense. "John, you can no longer serve me. Tomorrow morning either you or I must leave this house." "Aweel, master," replied John, "if y're determined on ganging awa, we would like to ken what direction ye'll be takin." No doubt, the same relations existed between Mr. Perkins and Cox as between the nobleman and his servant.

In 1799, during the administration of John Adams, in anticipation of a war with France, the government organized a considerable army for defense. A part of the forces was sent, under General Pinkney, into camp at Harper's Ferry, and the ridge on which they were stationed has ever since been called, "Camp Hill." It runs north and south between Harper's Ferry and Bolivar. When the war cloud disappeared many of the soldiers settled down at the place. A good many had died while in the service, and their bodies are buried on the western slope of Camp Hill. Although the mortal portion of them has mingled, long since, with Mother earth, their spirits are said to hover still around the scene of their earthly campaign and "oft in the stilly night" are the weird notes of their fifes and the clatter of their drums heard by belated Harper's Ferryans. The colored people who appear to be especially favored with spirit manifestations, bear unanimous testimony to these facts, and it is well known that some fine houses in the neighborhood were, for many years, without tenants in consequence of their being supposed to be places of rendezvous for these errant spirits. Once, over forty years ago, the writer spent a winter's night in one of these houses, in company with a corpse and the recollection of the feelings he experienced, on that occasion, still causes the few hairs he has retained to stick up "like the quills of the fretful porcupine." The deceased was a stranger who had taken temporary possession of the house and had died there very suddenly. He had been keeping bachelor's hall there and, as he had no relatives at the place, a committee of charitable citizens undertook the care of the remains, and the writer, then a young man, affecting some courage, was detailed to watch the corpse for one night. The house had an uncanny reputation, any way, and a corpse was not exactly the companion a man would choose to stay with, in a haunted house, but the writer was then courting and desired to rise in the estimation of his girl, and this nerved him to the task. He held to it, but, gentle reader, that was a very long night, indeed, and even such fame as he acquired on that occasion and the approval of his loved one would, never again, be inducement enough for him to undergo a similar ordeal. But the spirits of the soldiers behaved with commendable decency on the occasion and "not a drum was heard" or fife either. The corpse, too, conducted itself discreetly but, dear reader, that night was a very long one notwithstanding, and the daylight, when at last it did appear, was enthusiastically welcomed by the quaking watcher.

At that time – 1799 – a bitter war existed between the Federalists and Republicans, and a certain Captain Henry, in General Pinkney's army is said to have taken his company, one day, to Jefferson's Rock and ordered them to overthrow the favorite seat of Jefferson, his political enemy. They succeeded in detaching a large boulder from the top which rolled down hill to Shenandoah street, where it lay for many years, a monument of stupid bigotry. This action was the occasion for a challenge to mortal combat for Captain Henry from an equally foolish Republican in the same corps, but the affair having come to the ears of General Pinkney, he had both of the champions arrested before a duel could come off, very much to the regret of all the sensible people in the town who expected that, if the meeting was allowed to take place, there would be, probably at least, one fool the less at Harper's Ferry.

Opposite to Jefferson's Rock and on the Loudoun side of the Shenandoah, there grew, at that time a gigantic oak which had been, from time immemorial, the eyrie of a family of eagles. Jefferson, while at the place, had been much interested in these birds and after his election to the presidency, he sent a request to Mr. Perkins that he would try to secure for him some of their young. At Mr. Perkins' instance, therefore, three young men named Perkins – the superintendent's son – Dowler and Hume ascended the tree by means of strips nailed to it, and, after a terrible fight with the parent birds, they succeeded in securing three eaglets. They were forwarded to the president and, by him, one of them was sent as a present to the King of Spain who, in return, sent a noble Andalusian ram to Mr. Jefferson. Being forbidden by law to receive presents from foreign potentates, the president kept the animal in the grounds around the White House, as a curiosity, but the ram being very vicious, and the boys of the city delighting to tease him, he, one day, rushed into the streets in pursuit of some of his tormentors and killed a young man, named Carr, whom he unfortunately encountered. Mr. Jefferson, therefore, advertised him for sale, and thus was the first of that breed of sheep introduced into America.

Some time during Mr. Perkins' administration, a singular character came to reside at Harper's Ferry. His name was Brown and he was supposed to be a native of Scotland. He had served as a surgeon in the American army, during the Revolution. He was a bachelor and as, in addition to the profits of his profession, he drew a pension from the government, he was in good circumstances and able to indulge in many costly eccentricities. He lived alone on what is now called High street, and his cabin was situated on the lot opposite to the present residence of Mrs. Ellen O'Bryne. A cave, partly natural and partly artificial, near his cabin, was used as his store-house and dispensary. His eccentricities were numerous, but the principal one was an inordinate love for the canine and feline races. No less than fifty dogs followed him in his daily rambles and made the night hideous in the town with their howlings. His cats were as numerous as his dogs and they mingled their melodies with those of their canine companions to the delectation of his neighbors. A favorite amusement with the young men of the place, was to watch for the doctor, when he walked abroad, and shoot some of his dogs – an offense that was sure to earn his bitter hatred. He had many good qualities and he made it a point never to charge an armorer for medical advice. He died about the year 1824, and on his death-bed, he ordered that his coffin should be made with a window in the lid and that it should be placed in an erect position, in a brick vault which he had erected in the cemetery, and that it should be left so for nine days after his burial, when, he said, he would return to life. A person was employed to visit the vault every day, until the promised resurrection which did not take place, however, and probably will not, until the Archangel's trump wakes him up like other people. In time the vault crumbled to pieces, and, for years, a skull, supposed to be that of the doctor, lay exposed on the hillside near the site of the vault and children used it for a play-thing. Alas! poor Yorick!

With Mr. Perkins came, from eastern Virginia, the ancestors of the Stipes and Mallory families, as well as others who were regarded as being among the best citizens at the place. In Mr. Perkins' time a shocking accident occurred in the armory. Michael McCabe, an employe was caught in the machinery of one of the shops and, as he was drawn through a space not exceeding eight inches in breadth, of course, he was crushed to a jelly.

Mr. Perkins died at Harper's Ferry and was interred in Maryland. He was succeeded, in 1810, by James Stubblefield, a Virginian, and a gentleman of the true Virginia stamp. At that time, it was deemed absolutely necessary that the superintendent of a national armory should be, himself, a practical gun-maker. Mr. Stubblefield, therefore, in order to satisfy the ordnance department of his fitness for the position, was obliged to manufacture a gun, he, himself, making all the component parts. The specimen giving satisfaction, he got his appointment, after a considerable interregnum. His superintendency was the longest of any in the history of the armory. It continued from 1810 to 1829, a period of nineteen years. In 1824, some discontented spirits among the armorers brought charges against Mr. Stubblefield which occasioned the convening of a court martial for their investigation. The court acquitted Mr. Stubblefield and, as he was generally popular, his friends among the employes gave him a public dinner which was served in the arsenal yard, in honor of his victory. While the trial was yet pending, a Mr. Lee was appointed to the superintendency, pro tem, but, on the termination of the court martial, Mr. Stubblefield was reinstated. During this superintendency – August 29th, 1821, an armorer named Jacob Carman lost his life by the bursting of a grinding-stone in one of the shops. A fragment struck him and, such was the force of the blow, that he was driven through the brick wall of the shop and his mangled remains were found several steps from the building.

While Mr. Stubblefield was superintendent, about the year 1818, a gentleman named John H. Hall, of the State of Maine, invented a breech-loading gun – probably the first of the kind manufactured. He obtained a patent for his invention and, the government having concluded to adopt the gun into its service, Mr. Hall was sent to Harper's Ferry to superintend its manufacture. Two buildings on "The Island" were set apart for him, and he continued to make his guns in those shops until 1840, when he moved to Missouri. After this period, other buildings were erected on the same island, for the manufacture of the minie rifle, but the place retained the name of "Hall's Works" by which it was known in Mr. Hall's time. It was, sometimes, called "the Rifle Factory." The reader will understand by the term "armory," used in this book, the main buildings on the Potomac. Although both ranges of shops were used for the manufacture of arms, custom designated the one, "The Armory" and the other – the less important – "the Rifle Factory" or "Hall's Works." Mr. Hall was the father of the Hon. Willard Hall, at one time a member of Congress from Missouri and, during the war, Governor of that state. He was a high-toned gentleman and a man of great ability. His daughter, Lydia, was married to Dr. Nicholas Marion, an eminent physician who resided at Harper's Ferry from 1827 until his death in 1882. Their sons, William V., and George H., are physicians of Washington, D. C., and are ranked among the first, as specialists, in diseases of the eye and ear. Another son, Robert, is a surgeon in the United States Navy. It may be remarked here, that Harper's Ferry has contributed more than any other place of the same size to the prosperity of other parts of our country, especially the West and Southwest, by sending them many distinguished people. Here, some eighty-five years ago was born, in an old house, now in ruins, on the bank of the Shenandoah, General Jeff Thompson. "Jeff" was but a nickname, his proper name being Merriweather Thompson. His father was, at one time, paymaster's clerk in the armory and was very highly respected.

Besides the parties above named, Harper's Ferry has furnished many other eminent men to the West. Some sixty-five years ago, Captain Jacamiah Seaman, who had resigned his position as captain in the company stationed at Harper's Ferry, moved to Sullivan county, Missouri. He took with him a youth to whom he had taken a fancy. The young man was named Robert W. Daugherty and he had been left by his dying parents in care of Mr. Martin Grace and his wife, nee O'Byrne. This lady's brother, Mr. Terence O'Byrne, will figure further on in this history as one of John Brown's prisoners at the time of that fanatic's famous raid. Young Daugherty had the consent of his guardians to accompany Captain Seaman, who was a man of very high standing at the place, and whose family – originally of Welsh descent – were always held in the greatest esteem in Virginia. Young Daugherty was a scion of the very warlike and singularly successful clan of O'Daugherty, who, from time immemorial, dwelt in the valleys of romantic Inishowen, in the county of Donegal, Ireland, and who distinguished themselves particularly, in the sanguinary battles of Benburb and Yellow Ford, fought in the 16th century, to the utter destruction, by the Irish clans of two powerful English armies. The name still flourishes in their native country, but alas, like many others, they will drop the O before their name, regardless of the loss of euphony, and the memory of the many glories their fathers achieved under the venerable old name. Robert's father was James Daugherty, a man of great force of character and executive ability. He was born in Donegal about the end of the 18th century and died young, of the cholera epidemic at Harper's Ferry, in 1831-1832, leaving several children. He and his wife who, also died young, are buried, side by side, in the cemetery attached to Saint John's Catholic church, Frederick, Maryland, of which they were devoted members. Their children were put under strict Christian guardianship, and those of them who lived to maturity married into some of the best families of Virginia and Maryland. Mary Jane, a highly educated lady, married Hugh Gifford, of Baltimore. John died, we believe, unmarried, at Memphis, Tennessee, aged 22 years. Catherine Anne, the third child, died in the Orphans' House of the Catholic church in Baltimore aged 14 years. Elizabeth Ellen, the youngest child, married James Wall Keenan, of Winchester, Virginia, a brave confederate soldier, whose sister, Catherine, married Charles B. Rouse, the Merchant Prince and gallant soldier of New York.

Robert W. Daugherty, the second son, accompanied Captain Seaman to the West, as before stated, and, afterwards, married Lydia E. Seaman, sister of Captain Jacamiah Seaman and Richard S. Seaman who, in the civil war, served prominently under General T. J. Jackson. Robert W. Daugherty was the first man in Sullivan county, Missouri, to answer the call of Governor Jackson for volunteers, when the civil war broke out. He entered as a private and was elected captain, but refused further promotion. He served with distinction in the 3rd Missouri Infantry of the Confederate army. At the close of the war, he surrendered at Hempstead, Arkansas, and engaged in planting on Red River, Bosier Parish, Louisiana. He died there on his plantation, June 2nd, 1877, leaving a son, Jacamiah Seaman Daugherty, now of Houston, Texas, who married Maggie C. Bryan, of Lexington, Kentucky, daughter of Daniel Bryan and sister of Joseph Bryan, M. D., who, while in charge of some hospital in New York, first applied plaster of paris in the treatment of sprains and fractures. The Bryans are of the old family who accompanied Boone to Kentucky. A daughter of Robert W. Daugherty – Miss May Ellen – married Col. Caleb J. Perkins, who distinguished himself as a fearless fighter under General Sterling Price of the Confederate army. Col. Perkins is now dead. His widow survives him in Carroll county, Missouri, with an only son, a young man of great promise, as befits his gallant father's son and one with the mingled blood of the Seamans of Virginia and the O'Daughertys of Inishowen, so many whom fought and bled for their beloved native land on the gory fields of Benburb, Yellow Ford and many other famous battles.

Nancy Augusta Jane Daugherty married Wesley Arnold, of Bosier Parish, Louisiana. He was a member of the old Arnold family of Georgia. Her husband is now dead and she lives with her two promising children – Hugh and Genevieve Arnold in Terrel, Kaufman county, Texas. Robert Richard Daugherty disappeared from Daugherty, Kaufman county, Texas, in the fall of 1889. He left his store locked and his safe had a considerable amount of cash in it. That was the last thing known of him, except that his hat was found in a creek bottom, a mile from his store. It is supposed that he was murdered by a band of thieves, because of his having aided in the arrest of some of their companions. John Edward, the youngest child of Robert W. Daugherty, married a Miss Scott in Kaufman county, Texas. He is now a prominent farmer of Denton county, in that state.

The parties who were instrumental in bringing charges against Mr. Stubblefield were not yet satisfied and, in 1829, he was subjected to another trial by court martial. He was again acquitted, after a protracted hearing and the general sympathy of the community was more than ever before in his favor. While the second trial was progressing, his accusers were very active in hunting up evidence against him. They learned that Mr. Stubblefield had obligingly given to a man named McNulty the temporary use of some tools belonging to the government. They sought this man and they were much gratified to find that he spoke very disparagingly of the superintendent. Expecting great things from his evidence, they had him summoned, next day, before the court martial. On his being questioned by the prosecuting lawyer, however, he gave the most glowing account of Mr. Stubblefield's goodness and efficiency. Much disappointed, the counsel for the complainants exclaimed: "Sir, this is not what you said last night." "No," replied McNulty, "but what I said then was nothing but street talk. I am now on my oath and I am determined to tell the truth." The court and a great majority of the people were satisfied, before, of Mr. Stubblefield's innocence and his acquittal was long deemed certain, but McNulty's testimony tended to throw contempt on the whole prosecution and ridicule is often a more powerful weapon than reason or logic.

During the second trial, Lieutenant Symington was appointed to the temporary superintendency, but, as in the case of Lee, at the first trial, he was immediately withdrawn on the second acquittal of Mr. Stubblefield, and the latter was again reinstated. The proud Virginian, however, refused to continue in the office. He had been a benefactor to the people and had been treated with ingratitude by many. Twice he had been honorably acquitted by a military tribunal – always the most rigorous of courts – and, his honor being satisfied, he voluntarily vacated the superintendency.

In Mr. Stubblefield's time – 1824 – the "bell shop" of the armory was destroyed by fire. It got its name from its having the armory bell suspended in a turret which overtopped the roof. The origin of the fire was unknown, but it was supposed that some sparks from a fire made in the yard for culinary purposes, occasioned the accident.

Mr. Stubblefield was succeeded, in 1829, by Colonel Dunn. This gentleman had been connected with a manufacturing establishment, at the mouth of Antietam Creek. His was a melancholy history. He was a strict disciplinarian and, indeed, he is represented as having been a martinet. The severity of his rules offended several of the workmen, and he paid with his life a heavy penalty for his harshness. A young man named Ebenezer Cox, an armorer, had given offense to Lieutenant Symington, while the latter temporarily filled the office of superintendent, during the second court martial on Mr. Stubblefield, and, therefore, he was dismissed by that officer. When Colonel Dunn succeeded to the office, Cox applied to him for a reinstatement. It is said that the latter expressed contrition and made submission to Colonel Dunn who, with violent language, refused to be appeased and displayed great vindictiveness by threatening with expulsion from the armory works any employe who should shelter the offender in his house. Cox's brother-in-law, with whom he boarded, was obliged to refuse him entertainment, and it appeared as if Colonel Dunn was determined by all means to force Cox to leave his native town. Thus "driven to the wall" the desperate man armed himself with a carbine and presented himself at the office of the superintendent, about noon, on the 30th day of January, 1830. What conversation took place is unknown, but in a few minutes, a report of fire arms was heard. People rushed to Colonel Dunn's office and were met by his wife who, with loud lamentations, informed them that her husband was murdered. The colonel was found with a ghastly wound in the stomach, through which protruded portions of the dinner he had eaten a few minutes before. Being a very delicate, dyspeptic man, he generally used rice at his meals and a considerable quantity of this food was found on the floor near him, having been ejected through the wound, but, strange to say, it was unstained with blood. When found the Colonel was expiring and no information could be got from him. Mrs. Dunn was in her own house, opposite to the office, within the armory enclosure, when the crime was committed, and knew nothing, except the fact of the murder. She had heard the shot and, suspecting something wrong, had entered the office and found her husband as above described, but the murderer had escaped. Suspicion, however, at once rested on Cox and diligent search was made for him. He was discovered in the "wheelhouse" and taken prisoner. The arrest was made by Reuben Stipes. Cox made no resistance and he was immediately committed to Charlestown jail. The body of Colonel Dunn was buried in Sharpsburg, Maryland, near the spot where, many years afterwards, General Robert E. Lee of the Confederate army, stood while directing the movements of his troops at the battle of Antietam. There is a tradition that the day of his funeral was the coldest ever experienced in this latitude. So severe, indeed, was the weather that the fact is thought to be of sufficient interest to be mentioned in the chronicles of the place. In the course of the following summer – August 27th – Cox was executed publicly, near Charlestown, confessing his guilt and hinting strongly at complicity in the crime, on the part of some others. His words, however, were not considered to be of sufficient importance to form grounds for indictment against those to whom he alluded, and there were no more prosecutions. This murder marks an era in the history of Harper's Ferry and, although many more important and thrilling events have occurred there, since that time, this unfortunate tragedy still furnishes material for many a fireside tale, and the site of the building in which the murder was perpetrated is yet pointed out, as unhallowed ground.

Cox is said to have been a remarkably handsome young man of about twenty-four years of age. He was a grandson of Cox who, in Mr. Perkins' time, figured in various capacities around the armory and who particularly distinguished himself at gardening, as before related.

General George Rust succeeded Colonel Dunn in 1830. For the seven years during which he superintended the armory, nothing of any interest is recorded. He was rather popular with the employes, and survivors of his time speak well of his administration. It may be that the melancholy death of his immediate predecessor had cast a gloom on the place which operated to prevent the occurrence of any stirring events. It is said that General Rust spent very little of his time at Harper's Ferry. He was a wealthy man, owning a good deal of property in Loudoun county, Virginia, where he lived much of his time, delegating the duties of his office in the armory to trusty assistants who managed his affairs so as to give satisfaction to the government. Had he been a poor man his long stays at home, no doubt, would have excited comment and some busy-body would have reported the facts to his detriment. As it was, the General was independent and he enjoyed his otium cum dignitate without any attempt at interruption or annoyance from tale-bearers.

General Rust was succeeded, in 1837, by Colonel Edward Lucas, a Virginian of Jefferson county. He was an exceedingly amiable and generous man, although fiery and pugnacious when he deemed himself insulted. He was extremely popular and the writer well remembers his bent form, while he walked or rode his mule along the streets of Harper's Ferry, lavishing kind expressions on old and young and receiving in return the hearty good wishes of every one he met. The name of "Colonel Ed" was familiar as a household word at the place, and, as he was honored and respected in life, so was he lamented at his death, which occurred in 1858, while he occupied the position of paymaster at the armory. While Colonel Lucas was superintendent, the armory canal was much improved by the building of a permanent rock forebay. A stone wall also was built, extending from the front gate of the armory to the "tilt hammer shop" – the whole river front of the grounds – protecting the yard and shops from high waters and, indeed reclaiming from the Potomac, several feet of land and adding that much to the government property. Twelve good dwellings, also, were built for the use of the families of the employes, and the place was much improved in every respect. During the exciting presidential contest in 1840, Colonel Lucas was a strong Van Buren man but, to his honor, he never oppressed any of the men under him, on account of politics nor was he charged with having done so. In 1847, he was appointed paymaster, an office which he filled until his death, eleven years afterwards.

It is said of Colonel Lucas that, if any of the mechanics or laborers employed under him did wrong, he was not inclined to discharge them, preferring to punish them by administering a sound thrashing. He had several fist-fights with his men and, although he was a small man, it is said that he always deported himself well in his combats and generally came off winner. In any case, he was never known to use his authority as superintendent to punish any one who had spirit enough to stand up for what he considered his rights, even if it involved a personal quarrel with himself. The Colonel owned a good many slaves, nearly all of whom were of the most worthless description. It was said, indeed, with some show of reason, that he was virtually owned by his servants. Whenever a negro, anywhere near Harper's Ferry, had become so unprofitable that his master determined to sell him to a trader, the slave would appeal to Colonel Lucas to save him from the slave-drivers and servitude in "Georgia," which was regarded, justly perhaps, by the negroes as a fate worse than death. With them "Georgia" was a synonym for all the South. The good-natured Colonel would purchase the slave, if possible, and, consequently, he always had the most useless lot of servants in Virginia. His favorite slave was a diminutive old negro named "Tanner," who hardly weighed one hundred pounds, but who, nevertheless, prided himself on his muscle and was as fiery as his master. One day, Tanner had a fight with another negro and, while they were belaboring one another, the Colonel happened to come up, and, seeing his servant in a tight place, he called out, "Pitch in, Tanner! Pitch in, Tanner!" The street arabs took up the cry, and it has been used ever since, at Harper's Ferry, in cases where great exertion of muscle or energy is recommended. Colonel Lucas was truly a chivalrous man and we will not see his "like again," very soon.

It is to be noted that Colonel Lucas and his predecessors, with military titles, were, in reality, civilians, being merely militia officers or getting the prefix to their names by courtesy. This explanation is necessary for an understanding of the following: