← catalogue

The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country

by Joseph Barry · English · Gutenberg #35459 · 462,378 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country

Author: Joseph Barry


        
Release date: March 2, 2011 [eBook #35459]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35459

Credits: Produced by Mark C. Orton, Louise Pattison and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE STORY OF HARPER'S FERRY, WITH LEGENDS OF THE SURROUNDING COUNTRY ***




Produced by Mark C. Orton, Louise Pattison and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









    THE STRANGE STORY OF
    HARPER'S FERRY

    WITH LEGENDS OF
    THE SURROUNDING COUNTRY

    BY

    JOSEPH BARRY

    A resident of the place for half a century


    PRINTING HISTORY

    1st Printing By Thompson Brothers, Martinsburg, W. Va.          1903

    2nd Printing Published By The Woman's Club of Harpers Ferry District
    (Printed By The Shepherdstown Register, Inc.,
    Shepherdstown, W. Va.)                                          1958

    3rd Printing Published By The Woman's Club of Harpers Ferry District
    (Printed By The Shepherdstown Register, Inc.,
    Shepherdstown, W. Va.)                                          1959

    4th Printing Published By The Woman's Club of Harpers Ferry District
    (Printed By The Shepherdstown Register, Inc.,
    Shepherdstown, W. Va.)                                          1964

    5th Printing Published By The Woman's Club of Harpers Ferry District
    (Printed By The Shepherdstown Register, Inc.,
    Shepherdstown, W. Va.)                                          1967

    6th Printing Published By The Woman's Club of Harpers Ferry District
    (Printed By The Shepherdstown Register, Inc.,
    Shepherdstown, W. Va.)                                          1969


    Copyright, 1903, by
    JOSEPH BARRY




PREFACE


The =real story= of Harper's Ferry is sad, and but little less wild and
romantic than the old-time legends that abound in the long settled
country around. The =facts= of the story we give with scrupulous
=exactness=. We, ourselves, have witnessed many of the most important
incidents narrated and, for what happened before our time, we have the
evidence of old settlers of the highest character and veracity.

The =legends= are =consistent=, even though they may have no other claim on
our consideration. They never have more than one version, although one
narrator may give more facts than another. The narratives never
=contradict= one another in any material way, which goes to show that
there was a time when everybody around believed the main facts.

    THE AUTHOR.


[Illustration: JOHN BROWN'S FORT]




THE STRANGE STORY OF HARPER'S FERRY




CHAPTER I.


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, through 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:




THE MILITARY SYSTEM.

CHAPTER II.


Colonel Lucas was succeeded in the superintendency by Major Henry K.
Craig in 1841. The Major was an ordnance officer and, of course, his
education having been military, he was inclined somewhat to that
strictness of discipline which the most amiable of men, in military
command, soon learn to exact from their inferiors, having been taught to
observe it, themselves, toward their superiors. There were two classes
of employes in the armory--the day workers and the piece workers. By an
order of Major Craig, the latter were obliged to work the same number of
hours as the former. This edict was deemed unjust by the piece workers,
as they considered themselves entitled to the privilege of working for
whatever time they chose. They claimed remuneration, only, for the work
done, and, in their opinion, it mattered little to the government how
many hours they were employed. The superintendent thought otherwise,
however, and hence arose a "causa tetterima belli." Besides, everything
around the armory grounds assumed a military air, and a guard, at the
gate, regulated the ingress and egress of armorers and casual visitors.
Drunkenness was positively forbidden. These restrictions were not
relished at all by the armorers and the older men remembered with regret
the good old days of Perkins and Stubblefield, when the workmen used to
have hung up in the shops buckets of whiskey from which it was their
custom to regale themselves at short intervals. It is said, indeed, that
this license was carried to such excess in the time of Mr. Stubblefield
that an order was issued, prohibiting the men from drinking spirituous
liquors in the shops--a command which, at the time, was deemed arbitrary
and which was evaded through the ingenious plan of the men's putting
their heads outside of the windows, while they were taking their "nips."
These grievances rendered the men rebellious and, for some years a
bitter feud existed between the parties favoring the military system
and those who were opposed to it. In 1842, a large number of the men
chartered a boat on the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal and proceeded to
Washington City to see the president, John Tyler, and state to him their
grievances. At that time, little of an exciting nature had taken place
at Harper's Ferry. The Dunn murder, alone, furnished the whole history
of the town, up to the period of which we are treating, and that trip to
Washington, therefore, assumed an undue importance which it has retained
ever since, in the minds of the survivors of the voyage, notwithstanding
the fearful ordeals to which they were afterwards subjected. Neither
Jason and his Argonauts when they went in search of the Golden Fleece
nor Ulysses in his protracted return home from Troy encountered as many
vicissitudes of fortune as those hardy mariners of the canal boat. The
writer has been listening to stories of this expedition for more than
forty years, but as they never had any interest for him and as he does
not suppose his readers would care to hear them, he leaves them to be
collected by some future poet, able and willing to do them justice. The
octogenarian participants in this voyage deem them of surpassing
interest, but they were young when those events took place and, now,
they are old and that accounts for their fond recollection. Having
reached Washington they obtained an audience of the president who
received them in a style worthy of the head of a great nation and, what
is more in the estimation of some people, a Virginia gentleman.
Compliments were exchanged and the president gave each of them a cordial
shake of the hand, an honor which was duly appreciated, for it is
related that one of the delegation, in a burst of enthusiasm, reached
out a hand of enormous proportions and dubious color to meet that of the
president, at the same time exclaiming, "Hullo, old fellow, give us your
corn stealer." This handsome compliment, no doubt, was very gratifying
to the president, for he made them a speech in which he declared in the
most emphatic manner, that he considered the working men as the bone and
sinew of the land and its main dependence in war and in peace; that he
loved them as such and that their interests should be his care. In this
strain he continued for some time, but suddenly, he threw cold water on
the hopes he had created by telling them that "they must go home and
hammer out their own salvation." This figurative expression and the
allusion to that emblem of vulcanic labor--the hammer--were not received
with the admiration which their wit deserved, and it is said that many
loud and deep curses were uttered by some sensitive and indiscreet piece
workers, and that the august presence of "Tyler too" had not the effect
of awing the bold navigators into suitable respect for the head of the
nation. They returned home wiser but hardly better men and, from that
period dates the bitter opposition of many Harper's Ferry people to the
military system of superintendency which continued until the final
overthrow of that order of things in 1854. This contest is the chief
event of the time of Colonel Craig's command.

The Colonel was a veteran of the war of 1812. He had served on the
Canadian frontier with General Scott and had received a severe wound in
the leg, the effects of which were, ever after, apparent in his walk. He
was not, however, a graduate of West Point.

He was succeeded in 1844 by Major John Symington, another military
officer and the same who, with an inferior rank, had superintended the
armory, pro tem, during the second trial of Mr. Stubblefield. Major
Symington was an exceedingly eccentric man. His talents were undoubted
and he got credit for many virtues, but his oddities detracted much from
his usefulness. His voice was of a peculiar intonation and his gestures
were odd, but withal, he had a clear head and a good heart and, during
his administration, many improvements were made at his suggestion, and
the people were generally prosperous. The shops were remodeled, and many
believe that he did more for the prosperity of the place than any other
superintendent. Those who knew him best asserted that his eccentricities
were mere pretense and assumed for the gratification of a latent vein of
humor. On the whole, he is remembered with very kind feelings. Like
other superintendents, he was much annoyed with applications for
employment. People of every trade and calling, when out of work, thought
they had a right to a part of the government patronage, no matter how
unsuited they were, from their former occupations, to serve as armorers.
One day the Major was troubled by more than the usual number of
applicants and his temper was sorely tried. Towards evening a stranger
presented himself and made the stereotyped request for work. "Well,"
said the Major, rubbing his hands in a manner peculiar to himself, "What
is =your= trade?" "I am a saddler and harnessmaker," replied the
stranger. "Oh," said the Major, "we do not make leather guns here. When
we do we will send for you."

He made it a point to exact from his subordinates the most literal
obedience to his orders and, while he must have often regretted his
having issued absurd commands while in his pets, he always gave credit
to those who carried them out fully. He had a colored servant on whom he
could always rely for the exact performance of his most unreasonable
orders. One day, this servant carried to the dinner table a magnificent
turkey, cooked in the most approved fashion, but the Major was in one of
his tantrums and would not endure the sight of the sumptuous feast.
"Take it to the window and throw it out," said he, in the querulous tone
peculiar to him and, perhaps, to his surprise, the command was instantly
obeyed. The servant raised the window and pitched out into the lawn,
turkey, dish and all. The Major commended his servant's obedience and
was instantly appeased and induced to settle down to his dinner.

In his time, one of those exhibitions then rare, but unfortunately too
common now--a prize fight--took place at, or very near Harper's Ferry.
The then notorious Yankee Sullivan and an English bruiser named Ben
Caunt, met by appointment there in 1846, and treated the people to one
of those brutal shows. Caunt came to Harper's Ferry several weeks before
the fight and there he went through his course of training. He was the
favorite with the people, no doubt, because of his nationality--most of
the armorers being descended from Birmingham gun-smiths. Sullivan
arrived on the night before the encounter and with him came a crowd of
shoulder-hitters, pick-pockets, et hoc genus omne. They took possession
of the town and, until the fight was decided, the utmost terror
prevailed among the peaceable inhabitants. The battle ground was outside
the town limits, east of the Shenandoah, in a meadow near what is called
"the old still-house," on the line of Jefferson and Loudoun counties.
Sullivan won the fight, but the exhibition broke up in a general row.

In the summer of 1850, the fearful scourge--the Asiatic cholera again
made its appearance at the place and decimated the people. Although it
is said that the ravages of this pestilence are mostly confined to
people of dissolute habits, it was not so in this case, for it visited
the homes of rich and poor indiscriminately, and all classes suffered
equally. It is estimated that over one hundred people at the place
perished by this epidemic and, the town having been deserted by all who
could leave it, business, too, suffered severely.

Major Symington was succeeded, in 1851, by Colonel Benjamin Huger. He
was of Huguenot extraction and a native of South Carolina. His
administration was not marked by any very important events. The
excitement against the military system that arose in the time of Colonel
Craig continued unabated. During Colonel Huger's superintendency in
1851, a sad accident occurred at Harper's Ferry. On the opening of the
Baltimore and Ohio railroad from Cumberland to Fairmont, an excursion
train containing the principal officers of the road proceeded from
Baltimore to what was then the western terminus of that great channel of
commerce. A number of Harper's Ferry people determined to give them a
salute, as they passed that station, and, with this purpose, they loaded
an old twelve-pounder cannon which was kept at the armory for such
occasions. Through some mismanagement, there was a premature explosion
which caused the death of two colored men. One of them, named John
Butler, was a veteran of the war of 1812 and had been long a resident of
the town. The other, named Scipio, was, too, like Butler, well known and
respected at the place. A third party, a white man, named James
O'Laughlin, to whose want of forethought the accident was attributed,
lost his life shortly afterwards by being run over by the railway cars,
in front of the ticket office.

In 1852, on an order from the Secretary of War, the government disposed
of a considerable portion of its property at Harper's Ferry to employes
at the armory. Many of those people desired to purchase houses and the
government deemed it politic to encourage them in so doing. The plan
insured a number of prudent, sober and steady mechanics for employment
in the government works--men who, having a deep interest in the place,
would consult the well-being of society there and would feel the more
attached to the public service. Therefore, many houses and lots were
disposed of at public sale and, at the same time, many donations of land
were made by the government for religious, educational and town
purposes.

In 1852 there was a remarkable inundation at Harper's Ferry--the
greatest that, up to that time, had occurred there--at least since the
settlement of the place by white people. The winter of 1851-1852 was
exceedingly severe. From November until April, the snow lay deep upon
the ground, and when, about the middle of the latter month, there was a
heavy and warm rain for several days, the snow melted rapidly and an
unprecedented flood was the consequence. The Potomac, swollen by a
thousand tributaries, the smallest of which might aspire, at the time,
to the dignity of a river, rolled in an irresistible tide and was met by
the Shenandoah with the accumulated waters of the whole upper Valley of
Virginia. The town was literally submerged and large boats were
propelled with oar and pole along the principal streets. Of course, much
damage was done to property, but no loss of life on that occasion is
recorded. Similar inundations we have mentioned as having occurred there
in Mr. Harper's time, and in 1832 a very remarkable one took place
which is fresh in the memories of a few of the citizens. Indeed, there
is a belief that at least once in every twenty years the town is
partially submerged. Since the war these inundations are more frequent
and far more injurious than they were before, because of the wholesale
destruction of the forests for the use of the armies during the civil
war, and the increased demand for timber for mercantile purposes. The
day will come when legislation must step in to prevent this evil and
when the American people must take a lesson from certain European
governments in which the state takes charge of the forests and regulates
the cutting down and planting of trees. The suggestion is, perhaps, an
unpopular one, but it may be right nevertheless.

It may be observed that Colonel Huger afterwards became a general in the
service of the Confederacy and obtained some fame in the seven days'
fighting before Richmond.

Colonel Huger was succeeded, in 1854, by Major Bell, who was the last of
the military superintendents. He "reigned" but a few months, the
government having decided about the end of that year to change the
system of armory superintendence back from the military to the civil
order. There was great rejoicing among the anti-military men and a
corresponding depression among those of the opposite party, for the
military system had many friends at the place, although they were in a
minority.




CHAPTER III.

THE CIVIL SYSTEM REVIVED.


Major Bell was succeeded, early in 1855, by Henry W. Clowe, a native of
Prince William county, Virginia, a very worthy mechanic who had been
employed, for many years before, as a master millwright in the armory.
He was a man of a very impulsive nature with all the virtues and many of
the faults of men with that temperament. He was highstrung, as the
saying is, but he was generous to a fault and never did the place enjoy
greater prosperity than under his administration. Whether this was owing
to his good management or not was a question which every man at the
place decided according to his partialities, perhaps, but the fact of
the great prosperity of Harper's Ferry at that time, is undoubted.
Having been associated a long time with the workmen as an equal he had
many difficulties to encounter to which a stranger would not be exposed.
It is probable, however, that his greatest trouble arose from the
intrigues of politicians. He had a quarrel with the representative in
Congress from the district to which Harper's Ferry then belonged, and by
the influence of the latter or of some other party, Mr. Clowe was
removed from the superintendency about the close of 1858.

In this administration, in the spring of 1856, a tragical occurrence
took place in the town. Two men named Engle and Alison had a quarrel
originating in drunkenness, when the latter struck the former on the
head with a four-pound weight, breaking his skull in several places. The
wounded man lay in a comatose state for some hours before his inevitable
death. Alison was arrested immediately and conveyed to Charlestown jail
to await trial. Having concealed on his person a small pistol he blew
out his own brains in a few minutes after his lodgement in prison, and
his spirit arrived at the great judgment seat almost as soon as that of
his victim.

In the summer of 1858--June 10th--a melancholy accident occurred in the
armory yard, whereby Mr. Thomas Cunningham, a most worthy man, lost his
life. A very curious circumstance is connected with this accident. The
mishap took place about 9 o'clock a.m. A few minutes before that hour
the writer of these pages was passing the armory gate, when he
encountered a very respectable citizen of the place, who, in an excited
manner asked him if he had heard of any accident in the shops or the
armory yard. Having heard of none the writer inquired what grounds the
other had for the question. The reply was, that he had heard of no
accident, but that he was certain that somebody was or would be hurt
that day at the place, for he had seen in his dreams that morning
several men at work in a deep excavation in the armory grounds and
noticed particles of gravel falling from the sides of the pit and a big
rock starting to fall on the men. In his endeavor to give notice to the
parties in danger he awoke and this was his reason for believing that
somebody would be injured that day in the place. Politeness alone
prevented the writer from laughing outright at what he considered a
foolish superstition in his friend. He reasoned with him on the
absurdity of a belief in dreams which, instead of being prophetic, can
always be traced to some impression made on the mind during waking
hours. While they were yet conversing, a man ran out from the armory in
breathless haste and inquired for a physician. On being questioned he
replied that Mr. Cunningham had been crushed by a rock falling on him in
an excavation he was making and that Mr. Edward Savin, also, had been
badly hurt. Mr. Cunningham died in a few minutes after his being injured
and thus was the dream literally verified, even to the exact place,
foreshadowed--the armory yard--for there it was the excavation was being
made. Mr. Savin recovered from his hurts and afterwards served with
great credit in the 69th regiment of New York Volunteers. At the first
battle of Bull Run he had, it is said, his clothing perforated in more
than a dozen places by bullets, but he escaped without a wound. It is
reported that his preservation in this battle was among the most
extraordinary of the war of the rebellion, considering the very shower
of bullets that must have poured on him to so riddle his clothes.
Whether the dream was a mere coincidence or a psychological phenomenon
let every reader judge for himself. There is high authority for
believing that "coming events cast their shadows before" and the above,
for which the writer can vouch, would appear to confirm the truth of
what every one is inclined, in his heart, to believe, though but few
dare to own it, for fear of incurring ridicule. The occurrence convinced
the writer of what he more than suspected before and fully believes now,
that verily, there are many things transpiring daily which do not enter
into anybody's philosophy and which can not be explained by intellect
clothed in flesh. Perhaps, we will understand it all when we enter some
other sphere of existence and, perhaps, again, we will =not=.

Apropos of the foregoing, the reader may feel interested in the
following which, although it did not occur at Harper's Ferry, took place
so near to it that it will not be considered much out of place in our
chronicles. Besides, it was proposed at the start that the author should
give strange incidents of the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry, especially
when the actors in the scenes, as in this case, were identified closely
with that place and had daily business relations with its people. Some
sixty years ago, there lived near Kabletown in the upper part of
Jefferson county, a Scotchman, named McFillan, who was overseer on a
plantation belonging to a Mrs. Hunter. He was a man of dissipated
habits, and some person whom he had offended informed his employer in an
anonymous note that he was neglecting his duties. On being taken to task
by Mrs. Hunter, McFillan at once concluded that the author of the note
was a neighbor named Chamberlain with whom he had had some quarrel. In a
short time after McFillan and his supposed enemy encountered one another
at a blacksmith's shop in Kabletown and, the former charging the latter
with the authorship of the letter, fight took place between them, when
Chamberlain struck McFillan on the head with a stone, injuring him
severely. Before any great length of time the wounded man died and, it
being supposed that his death was caused by the injury received from
Chamberlain, a coroner's inquiry was held over the remains and a
post-mortem examination was made by Dr. Creamer, a physician of local
celebrity in those days. Chamberlain was put on trial in Charlestown
and, as the fact of his having struck the deceased was notorious, he
based his defense on the probability that McFillan had come to his death
by dissipation. Dr. Creamer's evidence favored the prisoner's theory,
and, as the utmost confidence was felt generally in the doctor's ability
and integrity, the accused was acquitted. Why the doctor did not so
testify before the coroner's jury, the tradition does not tell.

In some time after the trial a man named Jenkins moved into the
neighborhood of Kabletown and took up his residence in the house
formerly occupied by McFillan and in which he had died. Jenkins was a
bachelor and he lived without any company, except that of some slaves
whom he had brought with him. Feeling lonely, he extended an invitation
to the young men of the vicinity to visit him and assist him to pass
away the long winter evenings in a social game of "old sledge" or
"three-trick loo." One night Chamberlain visited him and engaged at a
game. Their conversation was cheerful and not, at all, calculated to
excite their imaginations disagreeably. While they were playing, a
shuffling of feet was heard in the hall and, presently, a knock was
given at the room door. Jenkins said, "walk in," when the door was
opened and in came two men who were strangers to the proprietor.
Chamberlain instantly fell to the floor in a swoon and Jenkins jumped up
to assist him. While stooping to help his friend, the host, of course,
took his eyes from the strangers and when he had succeeded in lifting
Chamberlain to a seat, they had vanished unseen and unheard by any other
person about the house. The negroes, on being questioned, denied
positively their having heard or seen them arrive or depart, and it was
impossible that any one in the flesh could enter the house and proceed
to the room occupied by Jenkins and Chamberlain, without being
discovered by the servants. Chamberlain exhibited signs of the most
abject terror and his host was obliged to send some five or six of his
slaves to accompany him to his home. Of course, the matter got noised
abroad and the neighbors eagerly questioned Jenkins about it, but he
could give no explanation of it, beyond describing the appearance of the
strangers. The description of one of them answered exactly to that of
McFillan. The height, make, complexion and dress of the supposed spectre
corresponded closely with those of the deceased overseer and the other
equally resembled Chamberlain's father who had been dead some years. The
latter apparition wore the peculiar dress of the Society of Friends of
which the old gentleman had been a member and, in other respects, its
description coincided exactly with that of the deceased Quaker. Of
course, no one ventured to question Chamberlain on the subject, but it
is religiously believed in the neighborhood that the apparitions were
the ghosts of the men whom they so much resembled, but why they should
travel in company or what the object of their visit was is as much of a
mystery as the dream which suggested this episode. Jenkins had never
before seen either of them, being as before noted, a stranger in the
neighborhood and, certainly there was no reason why =his= imagination
should conjure up those apparitions.

Whatever skepticism may be entertained about the matter, it is certain
that Jenkins, to the day of his death, persisted in his statement, and
there was no man in the county of a higher character than he for
veracity. It is said that never after that night did Chamberlain sleep
in a dark room, but that he always kept a light burning in his bed
chamber, from the time he retired to rest until daylight. He met his
death many years afterwards in a singular manner. He was riding one day
in a wagon over a rough road. In the bed of the wagon was a loaded
musket with the muzzle of the barrel pointing towards him. In some way
the musket was discharged and the bullet killed Chamberlain. It was
claimed by some who, perhaps, were interested in having it appear so,
that the jolting of the wagon caused the discharge of the gun, but no
one attempted to explain how the weapon was cocked or why the bullet did
not pass under the driver's seat, instead of through his body. Many ugly
rumors floated around for some time in connection with the affair, but
the writer does not feel at liberty to give them further currency. All
the parties concerned are now dead, and let no one disturb their repose
by rehashing what may have been mere slander or idle gossip. During Mr.
Clowe's time as superintendent--in 1857--died at Harper's Ferry, John,
commonly known as "Lawyer" Barnett, who was in his way, quite a
celebrity. He was by trade a carpenter and he had the reputation of
being an excellent mechanic. Like many other deluded visionaries, he
conceived that he had discovered a principle on which perpetual motion
could be produced and, for many years, he devoted his energies, spent
his earnings and tried the patience of his friends, in the construction
of a machine illustrative of his idea, and explaining his theory to any
person willing to listen. His device was certainly very ingenious but
marvelously complicated and when set in motion, it terrified, with its
unearthly noises, his timid neighbors, many of whom looked with
superstitious awe on the mysterious fabric and its uncanny inventor. The
poor "Lawyer," however, was the most harmless of mankind and the last
man that his friends should suspect of being in league with the powers
of darkness. If any compact existed the poor fellow's appearance
certainly did not indicate any accession of wealth, as he always went
about dressed like a scare-crow, his rags fluttering in the breeze,
betokening the most abject poverty. He always carried a thick cudgel and
was accompanied by a ferocious looking bull dog. The latter was,
however, as harmless as his master and, for all that any one knew, as
much abstracted in the contemplation of some problem of interest to his
canine friends. Barnett, like many other great men, would take sprees
occasionally, and the poor fellow died one night in one of his drinking
bouts, at his solitary bachelor home, and his face was devoured by rats
before his death was discovered by his neighbors. It need not be said
that he did not accomplish the impossibility he had proposed to himself,
and his machine now lies in a garret almost forgotten. Had the "Lawyer"
been a married man he would not have met so appalling a fate and,
besides, if we may rehash a stale joke on the ladies, he might have got
some valuable hints from his wife's tongue and accomplished something
for science.

Mr. Clowe was succeeded in January, 1859, by Alfred M. Barbour, a young
lawyer from western Virginia, whose administration was the most eventful
in the history of the place, as it was during that period that the great
civil war broke out which, as is well known, caused the total
destruction of the armory works. Other remarkable events, however,
occurred in Mr. Barbour's time which were precursors of the subsequent
great evils and foreshadowed the final catastrophe. These will be
narrated in the next chapter.

On the 28th day of June, 1859, a memorable tornado swept over the place.
About 3 o'clock in the afternoon a thunder storm came up and two clouds
were noticed approaching each other, driven by currents of wind from
opposite directions. When they encountered one another, a fierce flash
of lightning followed by an appalling thunder peal, lit up the heavens.
Rain poured down in cataracts, and, as if Aeolus had suddenly released
all his boisterous subjects, the winds rushed from all quarters and came
in conflict in the gap through which the Potomac finds its way to the
Ocean. In the war of winds a fine covered bridge that crossed the
Shenandoah about three hundred yards above the mouth of that river was
lifted from its piers and completely overturned into the bed of the
stream. Mrs. Sloan, a respectable old lady, happened to be on the bridge
at the time and, of course, was carried with it into the river. She was
found shortly after, standing up in a shallow place, and completely
covered over with the debris of the wrecked bridge, but fortunately,
and almost miraculously, she received very little injury.

Having given a sketch of each of the superintendents, the writer thinks
a notice due to the master-armorers, also. Originally, the
superintendents were styled master-armorers, and Messrs. Perkins and
Stubblefield went by this appellation officially. In 1815, however, the
latter gentleman was allowed an assistant to whom that title was
transferred, and that of superintendent was given to the principal
officer. In the above mentioned year, Armistead Beckham was appointed to
the second office in the armory. He was a high-minded gentleman who did
his duty regardless of the clamor of factions and with a stern resolve
to do justice--a difficult task during a portion of his time, as the
administration at Washington was democratic and Mr. Beckham was always
much opposed to President Jackson. The latter, however, could not be
induced to dismiss the honest master-armorer--such was the respect
entertained for the character of that gentleman. In 1830 Mr. Beckham
exchanged with Benjamin Moore, who occupied a similar position in
Pittsburg, each taking the place of the other. In some time after, Mr.
Beckham was appointed superintendent of the Western Penitentiary of
Pennsylvania, in Allegheny City, which position he held until his death,
many years after.

Benjamin Moore was a remarkable person. He was a fine specimen of the
physical man and his mind was on the same scale as his body. He occupied
the position of master-armorer at Harper's Ferry for nineteen years and,
during that time, he introduced an improvement into the manufacture of
arms which is universally admitted to be of utmost advantage, but for
which neither he nor his heirs ever received compensation, although a
claim for it has been pending for many years. His invention was that of
the interchange of the component parts of a gun, which means that any
particular part will suit any gun. The advantage of this plan in field
operations must be at once apparent as, from piles composed of the
various parts of a rifle or musket, a gun can be extemporized to
replace one rendered useless by accident. It is to be hoped that his
descendants may yet reap the benefit of his ingenuity and that justice
may at length be done to the heirs of a man who did so much for the
efficiency of our armies.

Like many other men of studious minds, Mr. Moore had, in many things, a
child-like simplicity. His son, Thomas, was a man of great talent and,
in almost every field of art, his ability was apparent. Among other
agreeable gifts, he possessed that of consummate mimicry. Sometimes he
would disguise himself in the garb of a beggar and meet his father with
the most piteous tale of distress, which never failed to work on the old
gentleman's sympathies to the opening of his purse. Many a dollar did
the son thus obtain from the benevolent father and, when the young man
would throw off his disguise and make himself known, nobody enjoyed the
deception better than the victim. Next day, however, the father was just
as liable to be taken in as before, such was his abstraction of mind,
caused by intense thought on the subject of his invention. He died some
forty years ago, at a ripe old age, covered with honors and with the
happy assurance of the rewards promised for a well-spent life.

Mr. Moore was succeeded in 1849 by James Burton, a young man whose whole
previous life had been devoted to the service of the government at
Harper's Ferry. He was a fine musician and a man of varied
accomplishments. In 1853, he was appointed by the British government to
superintend the manufacture of their Enfield rifle. Shortly before our
civil war, he returned to his native country, and, while the struggle
was in progress, he superintended the manufacture of arms in Richmond.
Mr. Burton died a few years ago in Winchester, Virginia.

He was succeeded in 1853 by Samuel Byington, a good-natured, easy-going
man, who was much respected by all at Harper's Ferry. He died, during
the civil war, at Washington City, to which place he had moved in 1858.

Mr. Byington was succeeded in the year last mentioned, by Benjamin
Mills, a practical gunsmith, of Harrodsburg, Kentucky. Mr. Mills did
not reside very long at Harper's Ferry, returning, in the autumn of
1859, to his former residence. During his stay, however, he met with an
adventure which will be related in the next chapter, and it can be
safely said that, in his experience in the west, he scarcely met with
anything that made a deeper impression on him than what he encountered
on this occasion, or which will bide longer in his memory.

Mr. Mills was succeeded, in 1859, by Armistead M. Ball, a man of
remarkable powers as a machinist. He participated in Mr. Mills'
adventure and, like the latter, no doubt, had a lively recollection of
the affair until his death, which occurred in 1861.

The capacity of the Harper's Ferry armory was from fifteen hundred to
two thousand guns a month, and the muskets and rifles manufactured there
were, generally, considered the best in the world. A good deal has been
heard of the needle-gun, the Chassepot and other guns used by various
nations, which may be all that is claimed for them, but the Harper's
Ferry Rifle Yerger enjoyed in its day a reputation second to no weapon
of the small arms kind under the sun, and it is very doubtful if it will
be much excelled hereafter, notwithstanding the many improvements we
hear of year after year. In the war of the rebellion it went by the name
of the Mississippi Rifle because the troops of that state were the first
of the Confederates to be armed with it.




CHAPTER IV.

THE BROWN RAID.


In the summer of 1859, a party of strangers made their appearance at
Sandy Hook, a small village of Washington county, Maryland, in the
immediate vicinity of Harper's Ferry. With them was an old man of
venerable appearance and austere demeanor who called himself Isaac
Smith. They represented themselves as being prospecting for minerals,
and they took frequent and long rambles, with this ostensible purpose,
over the various peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Since the first
settlement of Harper's Ferry, it has been believed that, in the earth
beneath the wild crags of the Maryland and Loudoun Heights, mines of
different metals and of fabulous value are hidden, awaiting the eye of
science and the hand of industry to discover and develop them. Many of
the citizens of the place, from time to time, have supposed that they
had found them and no small excitement has been aroused on this account
by sanguine explorers. Specimens of different kinds of valuable ore or
what was supposed to be such, were sent to Boston and subjected to
chemical analysis and very favorable reports were returned by the most
eminent chemists and geologists of the Athens of America. No wonder was
felt, therefore, at the appearance of the party, and their expedition
over the tortuous and difficult paths of the mountains excited no
suspicion. At first, they boarded at the house of Mr. Ormond Butler,
where their conduct was unexceptionable. They paid in gold for whatever
they purchased and, as their manners were courteous to all, they were,
on the whole, very much liked by Mr. Butler's family and his guests.
After a week's stay at Sandy Hook, they removed to what is known as "the
Kennedy Farm" about five miles from Harper's Ferry, on the Maryland side
of the Potomac, where they established their headquarters. While at this
place, Smith and his party, of whom three were his sons, made
themselves very agreeable to their neighbors and they were as popular
there as they had been at Sandy Hook. The father was regarded as a man
of stern morality, devoted to church exercises, and the sons, with the
others of the party, as good-natured, amiable, young men. Thus things
continued 'till the night of Sunday, October 16th, 1859. On that night
about 10 o'clock, Mr. William Williams, one of the watchmen on the
railroad bridge, was surprised to find himself taken prisoner by an
armed party, consisting of about twenty men, who suddenly made their
appearance from the Maryland side of the river. Most of the party then
proceeded to the armory enclosure, taking with them their prisoner, and
leaving two men to guard the bridge. They next captured Daniel Whelan,
one of the watchmen at the armory, who was posted at the front gate, and
they took possession of that establishment. The party then separated
into two bodies--one remaining in the armory and the other proceeding to
the rifle factory, half a mile up the Shenandoah, where they captured
Mr. Samuel Williams--father of William Williams before mentioned--an old
and highly respected man, who was in charge of that place as night
watchman. He, too, was conducted to the armory where the other prisoners
were confined, and a detachment of the strangers was left to supply his
place. About 12 o'clock--midnight--Mr. Patrick Higgins, of Sandy Hook,
arrived on the bridge, for the purpose of relieving Mr. William
Williams. They were both in the employment of the Baltimore and Ohio
railroad company as watchmen, and each used to serve twelve hours of the
twenty-four on duty. Higgins found all in darkness on the bridge and,
suspecting that something had gone wrong with Williams, he called loudly
for him. To his astonishment he was ordered to halt and two men
presented guns at his breast, at the same time telling him that he was
their prisoner. One of them undertook to conduct him to the armory, but,
on their arriving at a point near the Virginia end of the bridge, the
hot-blooded Celt struck his captor a stunning blow with his fist, and,
before the stranger could recover from its effects, Higgins had
succeeded in escaping to Fouke's hotel, where he eluded pursuit. Several
shots were fired after him without effect, and he attributes his safety
to the fact that his pursuers, while in the act of firing, stumbled in
the darkness over some cross pieces in the bridge, and had their aim
disconcerted. About this time a party of the invaders went to the houses
of Messrs. Lewis Washington and John Alstadt, living a few miles from
Harper's Ferry, and took them and some of their slaves prisoners,
conducting them to the general rendezvous for themselves and their
captives--the armory enclosure. From the house of the former they took
some relics of the great Washington and the Revolution, which the
proprietor, of course, very highly prized. Among them was a sword, said
to be the same that was sent to the "Father of his Country" by Frederick
the Great, King of Prussia--a present, as a legend inscribed on it said,
"from the oldest General of the time to the best." All through the
night, great excitement existed among such of the citizens as became
cognizant of these facts. There happened to be, at the time, protracted
meetings at nearly all of the Methodist churches in the town and
neighborhood, and the members, returning home late, were taken prisoners
in detail, until the armory enclosure contained a great many captives,
who were unable to communicate to their friends an account of their
situation.

About one o'clock a.m., Monday, the east bound express train, on the
Baltimore and Ohio railroad, arrived in charge of Conductor Phelps. The
train was detained by order of the leader of the band, and the telegraph
wires were cut. The object of these orders was, of course, to prevent
news of the invasion from being spread. The train was allowed to
proceed, however, after a considerable delay. While the train was at
Harper's Ferry, great alarm naturally existed among the passengers who
could not understand these movements. Several shots were exchanged
between the attacking force and a Mr. Throckmorton, clerk at Fouke's
hotel, and some other parties unknown, but no person was injured. Some
time in the course of the night, Heywood Shepherd, a colored porter at
the railroad office, walked to the bridge, impelled, no doubt, by
curiosity to understand the enigma. He was ordered to halt by the guards
at the bridge and being seized with a panic and running back, he was
shot through the body. He succeeded in reaching the railroad office,
where he died next day at 3 o'clock, in great agony.

A little before daylight, some early risers were surprised to find
themselves taken prisoners, as soon as they appeared on the streets.
Among them was James Darrell, aged about sixty-five years, the
bell-ringer at the armory, whose duties, of course, compelled him to be
the first of the hands at his post. It being yet dark, he carried a
lantern. When near the gate, he was halted by an armed negro, one of the
invading party, and, Darrell, not dreaming of what was transpiring and
mistaking his challenger for one of Mr. Fouke's slaves on a "drunk,"
struck the negro with his lantern and consigned his "black soul" to a
climate of much higher temperature than that of Virginia. The negro
presented a Sharp's rifle at Darrell and, no doubt, the situation of
bell-ringer at Harper's Ferry armory would have been very soon vacant
had not a white man of the stranger party who appeared to relish very
highly the joke of the mistake, caught the gun and prevented the negro
from carrying out his intention. Another white man of the party,
however, came up and struck Darrell on the side with the butt of his
gun, injuring him severely. Darrell was then dragged before "the
captain" who, pitying his age and his bodily sufferings, dismissed him
on a sort of parole. Mr. Walter Kemp, an aged, infirm man, bartender at
Fouke's hotel, was taken prisoner about this time and consigned to Limbo
with the others.

It was, now, daylight and the armorers proceeded singly or in parties of
two or three from their various homes to work at the shops. They were
gobbled up in detail and marched to prison, lost in astonishment at the
strange doings and many, perhaps, doubting if they were not yet asleep
and dreaming. Several of the officers of the armory were captured, but
the superintendent not being in the town at the time, the invaders
missed what, no doubt, would have been to them a rich prize. About this
time, Mr. George W. Cutshaw, an old and estimable citizen of the place,
proceeded from his house on High street, towards the Potomac bridge, in
company with a lady who was on her way to Washington City and whom Mr.
Cutshaw was escorting across the river, to the place where the canal
packetboat on which she intended to travel, was tied up. He passed along
unmolested until he disposed of his charge, but, on his return, he
encountered on the bridge several armed apparitions--one of them, an old
man of commanding presence, appearing to be the leader. Mr. Cutshaw, who
was "a man of infinite jest," used to relate in the humorous manner
peculiar to himself, how he, on first seeing them, took up the thought
that a great robbery had been committed somewhere and that the tall,
stern figure before him was some famous detective, employed to discover
and arrest the perpetrators, while the minor personages were his
assistants. He was halted, but, being in a hurry for his breakfast, he
was moving on, when he received another and peremptory challenge. At
last he said impatiently, "let me go on! What do =I= know about your
robberies?" These were unfortunate words for Cutshaw, as they gave the
chief to understand that his party were suspected of an intention to
plunder--an imputation which the old warrior very highly resented. Mr.
Cutshaw was, therefore, immediately marched off to the armory and placed
among the other prisoners, where "the Captain" kept a close eye on him
until his attention was engrossed by the subsequent skirmish.

A little before 7 o'clock a.m., Mr. Alexander Kelly approached the
corner of High and Shenandoah streets, armed with a shotgun, for the
purpose of discharging it at the invaders. No sooner did he turn the
corner than two shots were fired at him and a bullet was sent through
his hat. Immediately afterwards, Mr. Thomas Boerly approached the same
corner with the same purpose. He was a man of herculean strength and
great personal courage. He discharged his gun at some of the enemy who
were standing at the arsenal gate, when a shot was fired at him by one
of the party who was crouching behind the arsenal fence. The bullet
penetrated his groin, inflicting a ghastly wound, of which he died in a
few hours.

The writer of these annals met with an adventure on this occasion which,
though it partook largely of romance to which he is much addicted, was
anything but agreeable. Sharing in the general curiosity to know what it
was all about, he imprudently walked down High street to Shenandoah
street. At the arsenal gate he encountered four armed men--two white and
two black. Not being conscious of guilt he thought he had no reason to
fear anybody. The four guards saluted him civilly and one of the white
men asked him if he owned any slaves. On his answering in the negative,
the strangers told him that there was a movement on foot that would
benefit him and all persons who did not own such property. The writer
passed on strongly impressed with the thought that, sure enough, there
was something in the wind. He then looked in at the prisoners, among
whom was Mr. Thomas Gallaher, to whom he spoke. The invaders had ceased
some time before from making prisoners, as they thought they now had as
many as they could well manage. This accounts for the writer's escape
from arrest when he first exposed himself to capture. The leader of the
party approached the writer on his speaking to Gallaher, and ordered him
off the street, telling him, that it was against military law to talk
with prisoners. Not conceiving that this stranger had a right to order
him off so unceremoniously and not being at the best of times of a very
patient temper, the historian refused to comply, when a pistol was
presented at his breast by the captain, which obliged him to duck a
little and take shelter behind a brick pillar in the wall that enclosed
the armory grounds. The commander then called out to the same men whom
the writer had encountered at the arsenal gate, on the opposite side of
the street, and who were not thirty yards off when the encounter with
the chief took place. He ordered them to shoot or to arrest the
historian and they at once prepared to obey the order. Not relishing
either alternative of death or imprisonment, the writer dodged up the
alleyway that ran along the sidewall of the armory yard, and, in order
to disconcert their aim, he took a zigzag course which probably would
not have been enough to save him from four bullets shot after him in a
narrow alley by experienced marksmen, had not aid come from an
unexpected source. And, now, for the romance. A colored woman, who was
crouching in a doorway in the alley, rushed out between him and the
guns, and, extending her arms, begged of the men not to shoot. They did
not shoot and the present generation has not lost and posterity will not
be deprived of this history, a calamity which, without the intervention
of a miracle, their shooting would have entailed. Ever since, the writer
has claimed great credit to himself for presence of mind in thinking of
the "zigzag," under these trying circumstances, but his friends
maliciously insinuate that absence of body did more to save him than
presence of mind. He takes consolation, however, by comparing himself to
the great John Smith, the first white explorer of Virginia, who was once
in an equally bad fix and was saved by the timely intervention of
another dusky maiden. The heroine who, in the present case, conferred so
great a blessing on posterity, was Hannah, a slave belonging to Mrs.
Margaret Carroll, of Harper's Ferry, and her name will be embalmed in
history, like that of Pocahontas, and it will be more gratefully
remembered than that of the Indian maiden, by future readers of this
veracious story, who will consider themselves--partly at least--indebted
to her for an unparalleled intellectual treat.

It was now breakfast time and "the captain" sent an order to Fouke's
hotel for refreshments for his men. The state of his exchequer is not
known, but he did not pay for the meals in any usual species of
currency. He released Walter, familiarly called "Watty" Kemp, the
bartender at Fouke's and he announced this as the equivalent he was
willing to pay. It is to be feared that the landlord did not duly
appreciate the advantages he gained by this profitable bargain, and it
may be that "Uncle Watty" himself did not feel much flattered at the
estimate put on him in the terms of the ransom and his being valued at
the price of twenty breakfasts. Be this as it may, the bargain was
struck and the meals furnished. The leader of the raiders invited his
prisoners to partake of the provisions as far as they would go 'round,
but only a few accepted the hospitable offer for fear of the food's
being drugged.

Up to this time no person in the town, except the prisoners, could tell
who the strange party were. To the captives, as was ascertained
afterwards, the strangers confessed their purpose of liberating the
slaves of Virginia, and freedom was offered to any one in durance who
would furnish a negro man as a recruit for the "army of the Lord."
However, as there was little or no communication allowed between the
prisoners and their friends outside, the people, generally, were yet
ignorant of the names and purposes of the invaders and, as may be
believed, Madam Rumor had plenty of employment for her hundred tongues.
Soon, however, they were recognized by some one as the explorers for
minerals and then suspicion at once rested on a young man named John E.
Cook, who had sojourned at Harper's Ferry for some years, in the various
capacities of schoolmaster, book agent and lock-keeper on the Chesapeake
and Ohio canal and who had married into a reputable family at the place.
He had been seen associating with the Smith party and, as he had been
often heard to boast of his exploits in "the Kansas war," on the Free
Soil side, it was instinctively guessed that he and the Smiths were
connected in some project for freeing the slaves and this opinion was
confirmed by the fact of there being negroes in the party. Shortly
after, a new light broke on the people and it was ascertained, in some
way, that "the captain" was no other than the redoubtable John Brown, of
Kansas fame, who had earned the title of "Ossawattomie Brown" from his
exploits in the portion of Kansas along the banks of Ossawattomie
river. The information came from one of the prisoners--Mr. Mills--who
was allowed to communicate with his family.

At the regular hour for commencing work in the morning, Mr. Daniel J.
Young, master machinist at the rifle factory, approached the gate to
these shops, expecting to find Mr. Samuel Williams at his post, as
watchman, and little anticipating to find the place in possession of an
enemy. He was met at the gate by a fierce-looking man, fully armed, who
refused him admittance, claiming that he and his companions--four or
five of whom appeared at the watch house door, on hearing the
conversation--had got possession by authority from the Great Jehovah.
Mr. Young, being naturally astonished at hearing this, asked what the
object of the strangers was and learned that they had come to give
freedom to the slaves of Virginia; that the friends of liberty had tried
all constitutional and peaceable means to accomplish this end and had
failed signally, but that, now the great evil of slavery must be
eradicated at any risk and that there were resources enough ready for
the accomplishment of this purpose. Mr. Young said in reply: "If you
derive your authority from the Almighty I must yield as I get my right
to enter only from an earthly power--the government of the United
States. I warn you, however, that, before this day's sun shall have set,
you and your companions will be corpses." Mr. Young then went back to
stop the mechanics and laborers who were on their way to go to work and
warn them of their danger. It appeared to be no part of the policy of
the strangers to keep prisoners at the rifle works, as no attempt was
made to arrest Mr. Young. This gentleman, it may be remarked, became
conspicuous afterwards for his adhesion to the cause of the Union.
During the war, he was in charge of the ordnance at Harper's Ferry, with
the rank of captain. Soon after the close of hostilities he received a
commission in the regular army with the same rank, and, after having
served the government for a long time, at various points, he was retired
some years ago, and took up his residence at Troy, New York, where he
died in 1893.

About 9 o'clock, a.m., the people had recovered from their amazement and
sought for arms wherever they thought they could find any. It was no
easy matter to find effective weapons, as the arsenal and nearly all the
storehouses were in possession of the enemy. It was remembered, however
that, some time before, a lot of guns had been removed from the place
where they were usually stored, in order to protect them from the river
which, at the time, had overflowed its banks and encroached on the
armory grounds and buildings. The arms were put away in a building
situated far above high water mark and the strangers knew not of their
existence. Enough was procured from this lot to equip a few small
companies of citizens and a desultory skirmish commenced around the
armory buildings and the adjacent streets which continued all day. A
company under Captain Henry Medler crossed the Shenandoah on the bridge
and took post on the Loudoun side of the river, opposite the rifle
works. Another company under Captain Hezekiah Roderick, took position on
the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, northwest of the armory, and a third
body, under Captain William H. Moore, crossed the Potomac about a mile
above Harper's Ferry and marched down on the Maryland side to take
possession of the railroad bridge. Thus Brown's party were hemmed in and
all the citizens who were not enrolled in any of these companies engaged
the invaders wherever they could meet them. The rifle factory was
attacked and the strangers there posted were soon driven into the
Shenandoah where they were met by the fire of Captain Medler's men who
had crossed the river on the bridge, and, between the two fires, they
all perished, except one--a negro named Copeland, who was taken
prisoner. It is said that one of the citizens named James Holt, waded
into the river after one of the enemy who had reached a rock in the
stream, knocked him down with his fist and disarmed him. Whether it was
Copeland or one of those who were afterwards killed that was thus
knocked down the writer is not informed, but that Holt performed this
feat is undoubted.

At the armory proper, however, where Brown commanded in person, a more
determined resistance was made. Brown had told several of his prisoners
in the course of the morning that he expected large re-inforcements and
when, about noon, the company of citizens under Captain Moore, that had
crossed into Maryland, was seen marching down the river road great
excitement prevailed, it being supposed by the prisoners and such of the
other citizens as were not aware of Captain Moore's movements and,
perhaps, by Brown's party, that these were, sure enough, allies of the
invaders. Soon, however, it was ascertained who they were and Brown now
seeing that the fortune of the day was against him sent two of his
prisoners, Archibald M. Kitzmiller and Rezin Cross, under guard of two
of his men, to negotiate in his name with Captain Moore for permission
to vacate the place with his surviving men without molestation. The two
ambassadors proceeded with their guards towards the bridge, but when
they came near the "Gault House" several shots were fired from that
building by which both of the guards were wounded severely and put hors
de combat. One of them contrived to make his way back to the armory, but
the other was unable to move without assistance and Messrs. Kitzmiller
and Cross helped him into Fouke's hotel, where his wounds were dressed.
It will be believed that neither of the envoys was foolish enough, like
Regulus of old, to return to captivity. Brown, finding that his doves
did not come back with the olive branch and now despairing of success,
called in from the streets the survivors of his party and, picking out
nine of the most prominent of his prisoners as hostages, he retreated
into a small brick building near the armory gate, called "the engine
house," taking with him the nine citizens. This little building was
afterwards famous under the name of "John Brown's Fort," and, from the
time of the invasion until the spring of 1892, it was an object of great
curiosity to strangers visiting the place. It was sold at the time last
mentioned to a company of speculators for exhibition at the World's Fair
in Chicago, and with it much of the glory of Harper's Ferry departed
forever. About the year 1895, it was repurchased and reshipped to
Harper's Ferry by the late Miss Kate Fields, and it is now to be seen
about two miles from its original site on the farm of Mr. Alexander
Murphy. Of course, the bricks are not relaid in their original order and
the death of Miss Fields makes its restoration to anything like its old
self very improbable. About the time when Brown immured himself, a
company of Berkeley county militia arrived from Martinsburg who, with
some citizens of Harper's Ferry and the surrounding country made a rush
on the armory and released the great mass of the prisoners outside of
the engine house, not, however, without suffering some loss from a
galling fire kept up by the enemy from "the fort." Brown's men had
pierced the walls for musketry and through the holes kept up a brisk
fusillade by which they wounded many of the Martinsburg and Harper's
Ferry people and some Charlestown men who, too, had come to take part in
the fray. The sufferers were Messrs. Murphy, Richardson, Hammond,
Dorsey, Hooper and Wollett, of Martinsburg; Mr. Young, of Charlestown,
and Mr. Edward McCabe, of Harper's Ferry. Mr. Dorsey was wounded very
dangerously and several of the others were injured severely. All got
well again, however, except one, whose hand was disabled permanently.

Before Brown's retreat to the fort, two of his men approached the corner
of High and Shenandoah streets, where Mr. Boerly had been shot in the
morning. It was then about 2 o'clock p.m. and Mr. George Turner a very
respected gentleman of Jefferson county who had come to town on private
business was standing at the door of Captain Moore's house on High
street about seventy-five yards from the corner above mentioned. He had
armed himself with a musket and was in the act of resting it on a board
fence near the door to take aim at one of those men when a bullet from a
Sharp's rifle struck him in the shoulder--the only part of him that was
exposed. The ball after taking an eccentric course entered his neck and
killed him almost instantly. A physician who examined his body
described the wound as having been of the strangest kind the bullet
having taken a course entirely at variance with the laws supposed to
prevail with such projectiles. It was thought by many that the shot was
not aimed at Mr. Turner and that the man who fired it was not aware of
that gentleman's being near. There were two citizens named McClenan and
Stedman in the middle of the street opposite to Captain Moore's house.
They had guns in their hands and at one of =them= it is supposed was
aimed the shot that proved fatal to Mr. Turner.

After this shooting the two strangers immediately retreated and a
ludicrous occurrence took place if indeed, any event of that ill-omened
day can be supposed to be calculated to excite merriment. Mr. John
McClenan--above mentioned--shot after them and his bullet striking the
cartridge box of one of them, as he was approaching the armory gate, an
explosion of his ammunition took place and he entered the gate amid a
display of fireworks of a novel description. Apparently, he did not
relish the honors paid him and, with accelerated pace, he took refuge
with his company in the engine house.

The strangers continued to fire from their fortress and they now killed
another very valuable citizen--Fountain Beckham, for many years agent of
the Baltimore and Ohio railroad company at Harper's Ferry, and long a
magistrate of Jefferson county. Being a man of nervous temperament he
was naturally much excited by the occurrences of the day. Moreover,
Heywood Shepherd, the negro shot on the railroad bridge on the previous
night, had been his faithful servant and he was much grieved and very
indignant at his death. Against the remonstrances of several friends he
determined to take a close look at the enemy. He crept along the
railroad, under shelter of a watering station, which then stood there
and peeped 'round the corner of the building at the engine house
opposite, when a bullet from one of Brown's men penetrated his heart and
he died instantly. A man named Thompson, said to be Brown's son-in-law,
had been taken prisoner a short time before by the citizens and confined
in Fouke's hotel under a guard. At first it was the intention of the
people to hand him over to the regular authorities for trial, but the
killing of Mr. Beckham so exasperated them that the current of their
feelings was changed. They rushed into the hotel, seized Thompson and
were dragging him out of the house to put him to death, when Miss
Christina Fouke, a sister of the proprietor, with true feminine
instinct, ran into the crowd and besought the infuriated multitude to
spare the prisoner's life. This noble act has elicited the warmest
commendations from every party and it may be considered the one
redeeming incident in the gloomy history of that unfortunate day. Miss
Fouke's entreaties were unheeded, however, and Thompson was hurried to
the railroad bridge, where he was riddled with bullets. He tried to
escape by letting himself drop through the bridge into the river. He had
been left for dead, but he had vitality enough remaining to accomplish
this feat. He was discovered and another shower of bullets was
discharged at him. He was either killed by the shots or drowned and, for
a day or two, his body could be seen lying at the bottom of the river,
with his ghastly face still showing what a fearful death agony he had
experienced.

Another of the invaders, named Lehman, attempted to escape from the
upper end of the armory grounds by swimming or wading the Potomac. He
had been seen shortly before conducting one of the armory watchmen,
named Edward Murphy, towards the engine house. He kept his prisoner
between himself and an armed party of citizens who were stationed on a
hill near the government works. More than a dozen guns were raised to
shoot him by the excited crowd and, no doubt, he and Murphy would have
been killed had not Mr. Zedoc Butt, an old citizen, induced the party
not to fire, in consideration of the danger to the innocent watchman.
Immediately afterwards, Lehman disappeared for a while, but soon he was
seen endeavoring to escape as above mentioned. A volley was fired after
him and he must have been wounded, as he lay down and threw up both his
arms, as if surrendering. A temporary resident of Harper's Ferry waded
through the river to a rock on which Lehman lay, apparently disabled,
and deliberately shot him through the head, killing him instantly. =His=
body, too, lay for a considerable time where he fell, and it could be
seen plainly from the high ground west of the armory. The slayer now
asserts that Lehman first drew his pistol to shoot at him.

A little before night Brown asked if any of his captives would volunteer
to go out among the citizens and induce them to cease firing on the
fort, as they were endangering the lives of their friends--the
prisoners. He promised on his part that, if there was no more firing on
his men, there should be none by them on the besiegers. Mr. Israel
Russel undertook the dangerous duty--the risk arose from the excited
state of the people who would be likely to fire on anything seen
stirring around the prison house--and the citizens were persuaded to
stop firing in consideration of the danger incurred of injuring the
prisoners. Like Messrs. Kitzmiller and Cross, Mr. Russel, it will be
readily supposed, did not return to captivity. It is certain that the
people of the place would have disposed of Brown and his party in a very
short time, had they not been prevented all along from pushing the siege
vigorously, by a regard for the lives of their fellow townsmen, who were
prisoners. As it was, they had killed, wounded or dispersed more than
three-fourths of the raiders and, consequently, the sneers that were
afterwards thrown out against their bravery, were entirely uncalled for
and were by parties who, in the subsequent war, did not exhibit much of
the reckless courage which they expected from peaceful citizens, taken
by surprise and totally at a loss for information as to the numbers and
resources of their enemies.

It was now dark and the wildest excitement existed in the town,
especially among the friends of the killed, wounded and prisoners of the
citizens' party. It had rained some little all day and the atmosphere
was raw and cold. Now, a cloudy and moonless sky hung like a pall over
the scene of war and, on the whole, a more dismal night cannot be
imagined. Guards were stationed 'round the engine house to prevent
Brown's escape and, as forces were constantly arriving from Winchester,
Frederick City, Baltimore and other places to help the Harper's Ferry
people, the town soon assumed quite a military appearance. The United
States' authorities in Washington had been notified in the meantime,
and, in the course of the night, Colonel Robert E. Lee, afterwards the
famous General Lee of the Southern Confederacy, arrived with a force of
United States' marines, to protect the interests of the government, and
kill or capture the invaders. About 11 o'clock at night Brown again
endeavored to open negotiations for a safe conduct for himself and his
men out of the place. Colonel Shriver and Captain Sinn, of the Frederick
troops, had a conference with him which, however, did not result in
anything satisfactory. About 7 o'clock on Tuesday morning--October
18th--Colonel Lee sent, under a flag of truce, Lieutenant J. E. B.
Stuart, of the 1st Cavalry regiment--afterwards so famous for his
exploits in the service of the confederacy--who had accompanied Colonel
Lee from Washington, to summon the garrison to surrender. Knowing the
character of Brown, Colonel Lee did not hope for any success in trying
to induce him to lay down his arms, and he sent Lieutenant Stuart merely
through solicitude for the prisoners and a desire to use every expedient
in his power before ordering an assault and subjecting them to the
danger of being injured by mistake in the melee. As anticipated, Brown
stubbornly refused to surrender and, therefore, about 8 o'clock, an
attack was made by the marines under Lieutenant Greene. At first, they
tried to break open the door with sledge hammers, but failing in this
they picked up a large ladder that lay near and with that used as a
battering ram they succeeded in making a breach. Through a narrow
opening thus made, Lieutenant Greene squeezed himself, but he found that
the insurgents had barricaded the door with a fire engine and hose that
were in the building. Over these obstructions Lieutenant Green
scrambled, followed by his men and attacked Brown who, with his party,
was fortified behind the engine. It is said that one of Brown's men
offered to surrender and that Brown announced the man's willingness to
do so, but, for some reason, the offer was not accepted. While the
marines were effecting a breach and when they commenced to rush in, the
enemy fired on them and one of the soldiers--Luke Quinn--was mortally
wounded and another, named Rupert, had his upper lip badly lacerated.
The former was shot through the body and, if the latter is still alive,
he certainly has an ugly scar to remind him and the others of John
Brown's raid. The insurgents were all bayoneted or captured, but
fortunately none of the citizen prisoners received any injury. Their
escape, indeed, was almost miraculous, as it was difficult for the
marines to distinguish them from the enemy. Brown himself was wounded
severely by Lieutenant Greene and he was taken to another building where
his injuries were examined by a physician and his wounds dressed. He
received a cut on the head and a sword thrust in the shoulder. Two or
three survivors of his men were kept in the engine house, under a guard
of marines. The bodies of the slain raiders were collected soon after
from the streets and rivers and, with one exception, buried in a deep
pit on the southern bank of the Shenandoah, about half a mile above
Harper's Ferry, and the prisoners--Brown included--were lodged in
Charlestown jail. One body was taken away by some physicians for
dissection, and, no doubt, the skeleton is now in some doctor's closet.
After having lain just forty years in this rude grave by the Shenandoah,
the bodies of the slain raiders were disinterred about three years ago
(1899) and taken to North Elba, New York, where they now rest close to
the grave of their famous leader. This removal and reinterment were
accomplished through the efforts and under the auspices of Professor
Featherstonhaugh, of Washington, D. C., who has ever taken a deep
interest in everything appertaining to John Brown and famous raid. Can
fiction imagine anything more weird than the reality of the sad fate of
those men?

Some of Brown's men had escaped, however, from the place, in the course
of the skirmish, and Cook had not been noticed at all in the fray or in
the town since an early hour on Monday morning, when he was seen to
cross the Potomac on the bridge into Maryland with a few others, taking
with him two horses and a wagon captured at Colonel Washington's place
on the previous night, and two or three slaves belonging to that
gentleman. There was satisfactory evidence, however, of his being fully
implicated in the outrage and it was ascertained that he, Owen
Brown--one of old John's sons--and others had been detailed to operate
on the Maryland shore and that they had seized a schoolhouse, taken the
Domine--McCurrie--prisoner and driven away the pupils, for the purpose
of establishing at the place a depot for arms convenient to Harper's
Ferry. It was learned, also, that all the day of the 17th, they had kept
up a musketry fire from the Maryland mountain on the people of the town,
and that late in the evening Cook had got supper at the canal lockhouse,
on the Maryland side of the river. Moreover, it was supposed that,
finding the fate of war against them, they had fled towards
Pennsylvania. A large body of men, under Captain Edmund H. Chambers, an
old citizen and a man of well known courage, marched towards the
Schoolhouse and the Kennedy farm and, at each place they found a large
number of Sharp's rifles, pistols, swords, &c., with a corresponding
quantity of powder, percussion caps and equipments of various kinds. A
swivel cannon carrying a one pound ball was discovered, also, in a
position to command the town, although it is not known that it was used
during the skirmish. A large number of pikes of a peculiar form, and
intended for the hands of the negroes, was also found. The blacks were
expected to turn out at the first signal, and this weapon was considered
to be better suited to them than firearms, especially at the
commencement of the campaign. It should have been mentioned before that
Brown had put into the hands of his negro prisoners some of these pikes,
but, up to the time of the discovery of the magazine at the Kennedy
farm, the object of this novel weapon was not fully understood. Captain
Chambers' party found, also, a great number of papers which tended to
throw light on the conspiracy and several hundred copies of a form of
provisional government to be set up by Brown as soon as he had got a
footing in the south.

The Governor of Virginia, Henry A. Wise, had arrived in the meantime. He
immediately took every precaution to secure the prisoners and guard the
state against any attempt from the many allies Brown was thought to have
in the north. Governor Wise indulged in many uncalled for strictures on
the people of Harper's Ferry, for their supposed inefficiency as
soldiers on this occasion, boasting that he could have taken Brown with
a penknife. This he might have done if the handle was long enough to
allow him to keep beyond rifle range while he was punching the old man
through the key hole, but with an ordinary penknife or even with a minie
musket and bayonet, it is doubtful if the governor could have done more
than was performed by many a mechanic of Harper's Ferry in the skirmish
of Monday. In the subsequent war Governor Wise held quite an important
command and history does not record of him any of the wonderful feats of
skill or courage that might be expected from a man so confident of his
own prowess as the governor was when sneering at a brave people taken by
surprise and unarmed, when an unexpected attack was made on them. To
Governor Wise Brown confessed the whole plan for liberating the slaves
and, indeed, he had, all along, communicated to his prisoners his
intentions, but, as before noted, he kept his captives isolated as much
as possible and, in consequence, the people generally had but a vague
suspicion of his purpose. It is true that the party at the rifle factory
had informed Mr. Young of their objective, but so many wild rumors had
been started before his interview with them, and there was so much
general confusion that "neither head nor tail" could be found for the
strange occurrences of the day. The governor who, although he exhibited
a great deal of petulance on this occasion, was certainly a gallant man
himself, could not refrain from expressing admiration for Brown's
undaunted courage, and it is said that he pronounced the old man honest,
truthful and brave.

The interview between these two men of somewhat similar character,
though of diametrically opposite views on politics, is said to have been
very impressive. It lasted two hours and those who were present reported
that Brown exhibited a high order of uncultivated intellect in his
conversation with the highly educated and polished governor of Virginia.
It is said, also, that in the course of this interview, Brown foretold
the utter destruction of Harper's Ferry to take place in a very short
time--a prophecy which, if uttered at all, has met with a terrible and
literal fulfillment. Brown, Wise and the group surrounding them while
this conversation was in progress, would furnish a fine theme for a
picture. The stern, old Puritan with his bleeding wounds and disordered
dress, his long, gray beard and wild gleaming eyes, like some prophet of
old, threatening the wrath of Heaven on a sinful generation, and the
stately governor of Virginia reminding one of some cavalier of Naseby or
Worcester--each firm and true as the blade he carried and each a type of
the noble though fanatical race from which he sprang, would make an
impressive picture and, perhaps, the scene will exercise, some day, the
genius of a future painter.

On Wednesday night, October 19th, while the fever of excitement was yet
at its height, a gentleman residing in Pleasant Valley, Maryland, about
three miles from Harper's Ferry, heard a rumor that the "abolitionists"
and the slaves were butchering the people around Rohrsville, a few miles
farther up the same valley, and very properly gave notice of what he had
heard, riding furiously through Sandy Hook, towards the centre of the
trouble, the government armory. The people of Sandy Hook, men, women and
children rushed wildly towards the same point for protection at the
hands of the troops there assembled, while the people of Harper's Ferry
were equally wild with this new excitement. The marines who were yet at
the place turned out and marched to the point designated, where their
appearance caused another and more reasonable alarm among the people
there, who had not been disturbed by Brownites, white or black and who,
for a long time, could not be convinced that the soldiers had come to
protect and not molest them. Sandy Hook was totally deserted by its
people on this occasion, and many of them hurried away whatever of their
portable property they deemed most valuable. It is said that one man
shouldered a half-grown hog of a favorite breed and made tracks to
Harper's Ferry, and, as he and his neighbors scoured along the road, the
squeals of the indignant pig blended harmoniously with the multifarious
noises of the flying column. The marines, finding no enemy, returned to
Harper's Ferry, but, for many weeks afterwards, similar alarms were
started by nervous or mischievous people with nearly the same results.

Harper's Ferry was now patrolled every night by details of citizens
until the execution of Brown, which took place near Charlestown,
December 2d, 1859. Many a midnight tramp did the author take along the
muddy streets that winter with an old Hall's rifle on his shoulder when
his turn came to watch out for prowling abolitionists. The companion of
his watch was a worthy Milesian gentleman named Dan. O'Keefe, from "the
beautiful city called Cork." They made it a point to watch Dan's house
particularly, through a very natural praiseworthy anxiety on the part of
that gentleman for the safety of his better half and several pledges of
love presented from time to time by that excellent lady to her lord and
master, as well as for the sake of a corpulent flask which the
hospitable Hibernian never failed to produce from a cupboard, near the
door, when in their rounds, they came to his house. As the night and the
contents of the flask waned, the courage of the brothers-in-arms arose
and it is fortunate, perhaps, for the fame of Horatius Cocles, Leonidas
and other celebrated defenders of bridges or passes that no
abolitionists attempted to cross to "the sacred soil of Virginia" while
those worthies were on guard and full of patriotic enthusiasm and
whiskey punch. No doubt, their exploits would have eclipsed those of
the above mentioned Roman and Greek and of anybody else who has gained
celebrity by blocking the passage of an enemy. Several companies of
armorers were organized for the defense of the place and, once a week
did they display all "the pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war"
marching and countermarching along the streets, to the delight of the
ladies, the children and, no doubt, of themselves, as well as to the
terror of any book peddler from the north who might be in the
neighborhood and who might reasonably be suspected of being opposed to
slavery. A force of United States troops under Captain Seth Barton,
afterwards prominent in the service of the confederacy, was stationed at
Harper's Ferry and, gradually, quiet was restored. A Milesian warrior,
named Sergeant McGrath of the above troop was detailed to instruct the
awkward squad of citizens in the manual of arms and his deep Munster
Doric could be heard on parade evenings thundering his commands to
refractory recruits.

Cook and another of Brown's party, named Albert Hazlett, were arrested
in Pennsylvania and brought back to Virginia on requisitions. This
circumstance furnished a lesson to the fanatics who unhappily abounded
on both sides of Mason and Dixon's line. To the southern men it ought to
have proved that the people of the north did not sympathize to any great
extent with the invaders of Virginia and to the northern people who
expressed themselves as being shocked at the want of clemency exhibited
by the state of Virginia on this occasion, it showed that among
themselves were men who were ready to deliver over Brown's party to the
tender mercies of the slave holders for the sake of a few hundred
dollars offered as a reward for this service.

Cook and another white man, named Edwin Coppic, with two negroes, named
Green and Copeland, were executed on the 16th of December, in the same
year and Hazlett and Aaron D. Stevens--both white--met the same fate on
the 16th of March, 1860.

Brown's trial was, of course, a mere matter of form. He took no pains to
extenuate his guilt and openly avowed that he desired no favors from
the state of Virginia. Two young lawyers of Boston, named Hoyt and
Sennott, volunteered to defend him and they acquitted themselves
creditably. The Honorable Samuel Chilton, of Washington City, was
employed for the defense by John A. Andrew, of Massachusetts, afterwards
governor of that state, but, of course nothing could save the prisoner
and he was executed as before stated.

Brown died with unshaken fortitude and, bitter as the animosity against
him was, his courage or rather his stoic indifference elicited the
admiration of even his unrelenting enemies. Indeed it is difficult at
the present time to do justice to the character of this remarkable man,
but, no doubt, the future historian of this country who will write when
the passions that excite us have subsided or, perhaps, are forgotten
will class him with the Scotch Covenanters of the 17th century. It
appears to the writer that in many respects John Brown very closely
resembled John Balfour, of Burly, whose character is so finely portrayed
in Scott's "Old Mortality." The same strong will and iron nerve and the
same fanaticism characterized these two men and it must be said of both,
for Burly's character is taken from life--that, while no sane person can
wholly approve of their actions, their most implacable opponents cannot
deny a tribute of respect to their unflinching courage. The other
prisoners, also, died bravely and, indeed, it was a melancholy thing to
see men of so much strength of character lose their lives in such a
foolish undertaking--foolish, as far as the limited facilities of man
can reach--but wise, perhaps, could men understand the workings of Him
"whose thoughts are not our thoughts and whose ways are not our ways."
In judging of this invasion it is well to remember that everything which
John Brown proposed to do was successfully accomplished within five
years from the day of his execution, and who can tell how much active
providential interference there was in this apparently wild and lawless
enterprise?

An attempt to escape was made by Cook and Coppic on the night before
their execution. By some means they succeeded in eluding the vigilance
of the cell watch and in climbing the outer wall of the prison when they
were challenged by a citizen guard who was posted outside and their
further progress was prevented. The name of the sentinel who discovered
them in their flight was Thomas Guard and many jokes and puns were
perpetrated for months afterwards on the coincidence. They were taken
back immediately to their cell and closely =guarded= 'til morning.

A characteristic anecdote was told by the late Mr. James Campbell, who
was sheriff of Jefferson county at the time of the Brown troubles. It
will be remembered that, on the morning of the raid, Brown got breakfast
for his men at Fouke's hotel and that, in liquidation, he restored to
liberty Walter Kemp, the bartender, whom he had taken prisoner. A short
time before Brown's execution Sheriff Campbell sold some property
belonging to Brown which was found at the Kennedy farm and was
accounting to him for it, and naming some claims presented against him
by various parties with whom Brown had had dealings. Among these claims
was one of Mr. Fouke for the refreshments mentioned. Brown was reclining
on his bed, not having yet recovered from his wounds, and, no doubt,
with his spirit darkened by the shadow of his impending fate. He
listened apathetically to the list of debts, until that of Mr. Fouke was
mentioned when he suddenly rose up and protested against this demand.
"Why, Mr. Campbell," said he, "I made a fair exchange with Mr. Fouke; I
restored to him his bartender as pay for the meals referred to, and I do
not think it honorable in him to violate the contract." Mr. Campbell
replied: "Why, Mr. Brown, I wonder at you. I thought you were opposed to
trading in human flesh, but, now, I find that even you will do it, like
other people, when it suits your convenience." A grim smile played for a
moment 'round the old Puritan's firmly compressed mouth. He lay down
again quietly and remarked "Well, there may be something in =that=,
too." He made no further opposition to the claim. A part of the property
disposed of by Sheriff Campbell was a horse which Brown had bought from
a Harper's Ferry horse trader. In the transaction Brown had been badly
bitten, as the animal was nearly valueless and, on the day of the raid
the old man made particular inquiries about the tricky trader. The
latter was warned of his danger and took care not to encounter his
victim, who, with all the solemn thoughts of a great national uprising,
and the fearful risk of his undertaking, was yet smarting from the petty
deception put on him in the sale and eager to take vengeance for it.

On the morning of his execution he bade an affectionate farewell to his
fellow captives with the exception of Cook whom he charged with having
deceived him, and Hazlett of whom he denied any knowledge. It is said
that he gave to each of them, with the exceptions noted, a silver
quarter of a dollar, as a memento and told them to meet their fate
courageously. His pretense not to know Hazlett was understood to be for
the benefit of the latter whose trial had not yet come off. Hazlett
stoutly denied that he knew anything of Brown or that he was connected
in any way with the raid on Harper's Ferry. It will be remembered that
he was arrested in Pennsylvania, some time after the invasion, and, of
course, his defense, if he had any, was an alibi. A very absurd story
was published about Brown's taking a colored baby from its mother's arms
at the scaffold and kissing it. No colored person of either sex would
dare to approach the scene of the execution. The slaves were frightened
and bewildered so thoroughly at the time that their sole aim was to
avoid the public eye as much as possible but the paragraph promised to
take well and the reporter was not disappointed.

Brown's wife arrived at Harper's Ferry shortly before his execution and,
to her his body was delivered for burial. He was interred at North Elba,
in the State of New York, where he had resided for some years. His wife
was a rather intelligent woman and she did not appear to sympathize with
her husband's wild notions on the subject of slavery. In conversation
with a citizen of Harper's Ferry she expressed an opinion that Brown
had contemplated this or a similar attack for thirty years, although he
had never mentioned the subject to her. The bodies of Cook, Coppic,
Hazlett and Stevens, also, were delivered to friends, and it is said
that the last named two are buried near the residence of a benevolent
lady of the Society of Friends in New Jersey. She had always sympathized
with their cause and she provided their remains with the only thing now
needed--a decent burial.

Many anecdotes of John Brown are told in the neighborhood of the Kennedy
farm where he and his party resided during the greater part of the
summer previous to the attack, and they serve to illustrate the
character of this extraordinary man. Whenever he killed an animal for
his own use and that of his men he invariably sent a portion of it to
some of his neighbors, many of whom were poor and sorely in need of such
attentions. In other respects, also, especially in his love for
children, he exhibited a kindness of heart which made him to be much
liked by all who knew him. He was very regular in his attendance at
church exercises and his piety was undoubtedly genuine, as will appear
from the following: Once, a large crowd had assembled in a log
schoolhouse to listen to an itinerant preacher. The minister made but a
very poor show and his sermon was considered, even in that
unsophisticated region, as far below mediocrity. John Brown or Isaac
Smith, as he was then called, was one of the audience and, all through
the sermon he kept his eyes riveted on the preacher and appeared to be
totally absorbed in attention, as much so, indeed, as if the pulpit was
occupied by Henry Ward Beecher or some other far famed divine. When the
sermon was concluded one of Brown's neighbors in the audience made some
jocular remark about the preacher and the discourse and asked Brown if,
ever before, he had heard such trash from a pulpit. "Sir," said the
stern old man. "When I come to hear the word of God, I do not propose to
criticize the preaching of His minister. I recognize the Master, humble
as the servant may be, and I respect His word, though coming from the
mouth of an obscure and illiterate man."

On the other hand he sometimes savored strongly of blasphemy, whenever
religious dogmas or tenets appeared to clash in any way with his
favorite hobby. After his conviction many preachers of various
denominations offered him the consolation of religion according to their
particular rites. At their introduction to him Brown always asked these
gentlemen: "Do you approve of slavery?" As the answer at that time was
sure to be in the affirmative for not even a minister of the Gospel
dared then to hint at any sin in "the institution"--he refused to
receive their services, preferring to go before his God unshriven to
accepting the ministrations of slavery-loving preachers. One reverend
gentleman remarked to him that Saint Paul himself had sent back a
fugitive slave to his master, when Brown, with his dark eye ablaze said:
"Then Saint Paul was no better than you are." And in this spirit he
entered the great unknown, where it is to be hoped that honest
convictions receive at least as much honor as well conned creeds,
learned by rote, and often wanting in the great essential--an active
charity.

The gallows on which Brown was hung must have been a vast fabric and the
rope used must have been as long as the Equinoctial Line, or, else, both
had some miraculous powers of reproduction. Of the many thousands of
soldiers who were stationed from time to time in Jefferson county, from
the day of Brown's execution till the last regiment disappeared, more
than a year after the war, almost every other man had a portion of
either as a souvenir of his sojourn in Virginia. The writer saw pieces
of wood and fragments of rope purporting to have formed parts of
them--enough to build and rig a large man-of-war. If the soldiers
believed they had genuine relics they were as well contented as they
would be if they had the reality and it would be cruel to undeceive
them. The true history of that scaffold is as follows: It was built by a
carpenter of Charlestown, named David Cockerell, expressly for the
execution of Brown. When this purpose was accomplished the builder took
it to his home, and put it away as a curiosity. When the war broke out
Cockerell joined the confederate army and acted as engineer on the staff
of Stonewall Jackson. Fearing that in his absence from home his family
might be annoyed by soldiers coming to see the relic or, if possible, to
steal it, he ordered it to be built into a porch attached to the house
and the whole structure to be painted in the same color so that no
stranger could guess at anything beyond the common in the ordinary
looking porch. Cockerell died some years after the war, and it is said
that his heirs disposed of the famous scaffold to some Washington City
speculators, who proposed to exhibit it at the World's Fair in Chicago
in 1893. The writer gives this history of the scaffold as he has
received it from trustworthy sources. For several months after the raid
a brisk trade was prosecuted by the boys of Harper's Ferry selling "John
Brown pikes" to railroad passengers who, every day now stopped at the
station from curiosity and, as the number of genuine pikes was not very
large, the stock must have been exhausted in a very short time. It is
said, however, that some ingenious and enterprising blacksmiths in the
neighborhood devoted much of their time and capital to the manufacture
of imitations, and it is certain that the number of pikes sold to
strangers exceeded, by a great many, the number supposed to have been
captured at Brown's headquarters.

The names of the invaders, as well as could be ascertained, were as
follows: John Brown, Watson Brown, Oliver Brown, Owen Brown, Aaron D.
Stevens, Edwin Coppic, Barclay Coppic, Albert Hazlett, John E. Cook,
Stuart Taylor, William Lehman, William Thompson, John Henrie Kagi,
Charles P. Tydd, Oliver Anderson, Jeremiah Anderson, 'Dolph Thompson,
Dangerfield Newby, Shields Greene alias "Emperor," John Copeland and
Lewis Leary, of whom the last four were negroes or Mulattoes.

John Brown was, at the time of the raid, fifty-nine years old. He was
about five feet and eleven inches in height, large boned and muscular,
but not fleshy, and he gave indications of having possessed in his youth
great physical strength. His hair had been a dark brown, but at this
period it was gray. His beard was very long and, on the day of the
raid, it hung in snowy waves to his breast and helped to give to his
aquiline features a singularly wild appearance. His eyes were of a dark
hazel and burned with a peculiar light that gave promise of a quick
temper and a daring courage. His head, as it appeared to the writer, was
of a conical shape, and, on the whole, his physique well corresponded
with the traits of his character. The portrait of him in this book is an
admirable likeness. He was a native of Connecticut, but he had resided
for many years in the states of New York and Ohio where, it is said, he
was a rather extensive and successful wool-grower. He was twice married
and he had a very large family of sons and daughters, the most of whom
were married. He emigrated to Kansas at an early period in the history
of that territory and he was an acknowledged leader in the civil broils
which distracted that region for several years. Of course, various
opinions were entertained concerning him--the Free Soil men considering
him a hero, and the pro-slavery people regarding or affecting to regard
him as a demon incarnate. It is said that, in 1851, he visited Europe
with the ostensible purpose of exhibiting samples of wool, but in
reality to study the science of earth fortifications and gain military
knowledge to be made available in a servile war which he designed to
excite at a suitable opportunity. He certainly suffered a great deal in
Kansas--losing one of his sons, Frederick, and a considerable amount of
property in fighting the southern settlers, and it is probable that a
bitterness of feeling on this account mingled with his natural hatred of
slavery.

There was confusion respecting the identity of his two sons--Watson and
Oliver. They were both mortally wounded on the 17th. One of them,
supposedly, a young man apparently about twenty-three years of age, of
low stature, with fair hair and blue eyes, was shot in the stomach and
died in the course of the night in the engine house, while the party had
still possession of it. It is said that he suffered terrible agony and
that he called on his companions to put him out of pain by shooting him.
His father, however, manifested no feeling on the occasion beyond
remarking to his boy that "he must have patience; that he was dying in a
good cause, and that he should meet his fate like a brave man." The
other was a tall man, about six feet in height, with very black hair.
He, also, as before stated, was wounded in the skirmish of the 17th, and
he died next morning, after the marines got possession of the engine
house. He was one of the two men who were wounded from "the Gault
house." When he died his father was a prisoner and badly wounded. On
learning that one of his men had died a few minutes before, he sent out
to inquire if it was his son and, on being informed that it was, he
manifested the same stoicism and made a remark similar to the one of the
previous night, when the other son was dying--that the cause was good
and that it was glorious to die for its sake. When the news reached him
he was engaged in the interview with Governor Wise. After satisfying
himself as to the identity of the man just deceased, he resumed his
conversation with the governor, as if nothing had happened which was
calculated in the least to discompose him. As before noted, there is a
doubt with the people of Harper's Ferry as to which of these two men was
Oliver and which was Watson, and, indeed, whether or not the fair-haired
youth was his son at all.

Owen Brown was one of those detailed to operate in Maryland. He was not
in the skirmish, and he made his escape and was not seen again in
Virginia or Maryland. The writer has no knowledge of his appearance or
age.

Aaron D. Stevens was a remarkably fine looking young man of about thirty
years of age. He was about five feet and ten inches in height, heavily
built and of great symmetry of form. His hair was black and his eyes of
dark hazel had a very penetrating glance. He was said to be a desperate
character and, as it was reported that he had suggested to Brown the
murder of the prisoners and the firing of the village, there was greater
animosity felt towards him than any of the others, except, perhaps,
Captain Brown himself and Cook. He received several wounds in the
skirmish and it was thought he could not survive them. In consequence of
these injuries he was one of the last put on trial and executed. He was
said to be a believer in spiritualism or spiritism which is, perhaps,
the proper term. He was the one who was so badly wounded from "the Gault
house" and who was taken to Fouke's hotel. Had he not been disabled, it
is to be feared, from what is reported of him, that a massacre of the
prisoners would have been perpetrated on his recommendation. Whatever
his crimes may have been it is certain that he was a man of undaunted
courage and iron nerve. While he lay at Fouke's hotel helpless from his
wounds, a crowd of armed and frenzied citizens gathered 'round him, and
it was with the utmost difficulty that a few of the less excited people
succeeded in saving his life for the present. One man put the muzzle of
his loaded gun to Stevens' head with the expressed determination to kill
him instantly. Stevens was then unable to move a limb, but he fixed his
terrible eyes on the would-be murderer and by the sheer force of the
mysterious influence they possessed, he compelled the man to lower the
weapon and refrain from carrying out his purpose. To this day the
magnetized man avers that he cannot account for the irresistible
fascination that bound him as with a spell.

Edwin Coppic or Coppie was a young man aged about twenty-four years,
about five feet and six inches in height, compactly built and of a
florid complexion. He was a very handsome youth, and for various
reasons, great sympathy was felt for him by many. He was not wounded in
the skirmish, but he was taken prisoner by the marines in the engine
house. He had come from Iowa where resided his widowed mother, a pious
old lady of the Society of Friends. He had been for a long time in the
employ of a Mr. Thomas Gwynn, living near Tipton, Cedar county, in the
above mentioned state. Mr. Gwynn was a farmer and merchant and Coppic
assisted him as a farm laborer and "help" around his store. His employer
was much attached to him and came to Charlestown for his remains, which
he took with him to Iowa. After Coppic's conviction a petition was
forwarded to the governor of Virginia, requesting executive clemency in
his case. It was not successful, however, and he was executed as before
stated. In conversation with a citizen of Harper's Ferry who interviewed
him in his cell, Coppic said that, when he left his home in Iowa, he had
no intention to enter on any expedition like the one against Virginia,
but he confessed that his object was to induce slaves to leave their
masters, and to aid them to escape.

Of Barclay Coppic little is known in Virginia beyond the fact that he
was Edwin's brother and that he was with Brown's party in the raid. He
was with Owen Brown and Cook on the Maryland side of the Potomac while
the skirmish was in progress and he was not captured. It is said that he
was killed some years ago in a railroad accident in Missouri.

Albert Hazlett, of Pennsylvania, was a man of about five feet and eleven
inches in height, raw-boned and muscular. His hair was red and his eyes
were of a muddy brown color and of a very unpleasant expression. He was
very roughly dressed on the day of the raid, and in every sense of the
word he looked like an "ugly customer." He made his escape from Harper's
Ferry on the evening of the 17th, about the time when Brown withdrew his
force into the engine house, but he was afterward captured in
Pennsylvania and executed with Stevens. His age was about thirty-three
years.

John E. Cook was a native of Connecticut and he was a young man of about
twenty-eight years--five feet and eight inches in height, though, as he
stooped a good deal, he did not appear to be so tall. He had fair hair
and bright blue eyes and he was, on the whole, quite an intelligent
looking man. As before stated, he had resided several years at Harper's
Ferry, and he had become acquainted with all the young men of the place,
by whom he was regarded as a pleasant companion. He had married a
respectable young lady of the place, who knew nothing of his former life
or of his plans against the peace of Virginia. He was highly connected
and the governor of Indiana at that time--Willard--was his
brother-in-law, being the husband of Cook's sister. At his trial Daniel
Voorhees, afterward so famous as a politician and criminal lawyer, made
a speech for the defense which is regarded as one of his best efforts.

Little is known of Stuart Taylor. Some contend that he was a man of
medium size and very dark complexion, while others believe that he was a
redhaired young man who was bayoneted by the marines in the engine house
and dragged dead from that building at the same time that Brown was
removed. The writer is inclined to the latter opinion and he thinks that
those who favor the former confound him with a man named Anderson of
whom mention will soon be made at some length.

William Lehman, who was killed on a rock in the Potomac while
endeavoring to escape, was quite a young man, with jet black hair and a
very florid complexion. The killing of this young man was, under all
circumstances of the case, an act of great barbarity, as he had made
signs of a desire to surrender. The man who shot him was, as before
stated, but a temporary resident of Harper's Ferry and, in reality,
belonged to a neighboring county. Nothing can be gained by giving his
name and the concealing of it may save people yet unborn from unmerited
shame. In justice it must be said that he now claims that Lehman drew a
pistol to shoot him, but we did not hear of this until very lately.

William Thompson, who was shot on the bridge, was a man apparently of
about thirty years of age, of medium size, but of a symmetrical and
compact form. His complexion was fair, and he gave indications of being
a man of pleasant disposition. He was well known to many in the
neighborhood of the Kennedy farm and he was very popular with all his
acquaintances there. The killing of this man was unnecessary, also, but
some palliation for it may be found in the excitement caused by Mr.
Beckham's death.

John or, as he was sometimes called, Henrie Kagi, is said to have been a
remarkably fine looking man, with a profusion of black hair and a
flowing beard of the same color. He was about thirty years of age, tall
and portly, and he did not display the same ferocity that many of the
others exhibited. He was "secretary of war" under Brown's provisional
government and he held the rank of captain. He is supposed to have been
a native of Ohio. He was killed in the Shenandoah near the rifle
factory.

Of Charles P. Tydd little is known. It is said that, before the raid, he
used to peddle books through the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry. As far
as ascertained, he did not appear in the fight, but escaped from
Maryland to parts unknown. It is said that he was a native of Maine.

Respecting the identity of Oliver and Jeremiah Anderson there is a
doubt, as in the case of the young Browns. One of them was killed by the
marines, but what became of the other is unknown. The man who was killed
was about thirty years of age, of middle stature, very black hair and
swarthy complexion. He was supposed by some to be a Canadian mulatto. As
before noted, he is confounded by many with Stuart Taylor. He received
three or four bayonet stabs in the breast and stomach and, when he was
dragged out of the engine house to the flagged walk in front of that
building, he was yet alive and vomiting gore from internal hemorrhage.
While he was in this condition a farmer from some part of the
surrounding country came up and viewed him in silence, but with a look
of concentrated bitterness. Not a word did the countryman utter, as he
thought, no doubt, that no amount of cursing could do justice to his
feelings. He passed on to another part of the armory yard and did not
return for a considerable time. When he came back Anderson was yet
breathing and the farmer thus addressed him: "Well, it takes you a h--
of a long time to die." If Anderson had vitality enough left in him to
hear the words this soothing remark must have contributed greatly to
smooth his way to the unknown land of disembodied spirits. The writer
heard from very good authority that another and still greater barbarity
was practised towards this helpless man while he was in the death agony.
Some brute in human shape, it is said, squirted tobacco juice and
dropped his quid into the dying man's eye. The writer did not see the
latter occurrence, but it was related by witnesses of undoubted
veracity. After death, also, this man--Anderson--was picked out for
special attentions. Some physicians of Winchester, Virginia, fancied him
as a subject for dissection and nem. con. they got possession of his
body. In order to take him away handily they procured a barrel and tried
to pack him into it. Head foremost, they rammed him in, but they could
not bend his legs so as to get them into the barrel with the rest of the
body. In their endeavors to accomplish this feat they strained so hard
that the man's bones or sinews fairly cracked. These praiseworthy
exertions of those sons of Galen in the cause of science and humanity
elicited the warmest expressions of approval from the spectators. The
writer does not know, certainly, what final disposition they made of the
subject which the Fates provided for them, without the expense or risk
of robbing a grave.

'Dolph Thompson was quite a boy and he appeared to be an unwilling
participator in the transaction. He was seen by not more than two or
three of the citizens, and it is supposed that he escaped early on the
17th. He had fair hair and a florid complexion.

Dangerfield Newby was a tall and well built mulatto, aged about thirty
years. He had a rather pleasant face and address. He was shot and killed
at the Arsenal gate by somebody in Mrs. Butler's house opposite, about
11 o'clock, a.m., on Monday, and his body lay where it fell until the
afternoon of Tuesday. The bullet struck him in the lower part of the
neck and went down into his body, the person who shot him being in a
position more elevated than the place where Newby was standing. Mr.
Jacob Bajeant, of Harper's Ferry, used to claim the credit of having
fired the fatal shot, and the people generally accorded him the honor. A
near relative and namesake of George Washington disputes Bajeant's claim
and is confident that it was a shot from =his= rifle that put an end to
Newby's career. Mr. Bajeant is now dead and it is not likely that the
question will be brought up again. From the relative positions of the
parties, the size of the bullet or some other circumstance, the hole in
Newby's neck was very large, and the writer heard a wag remark that he
believed a smoothing iron had been shot into him. The writer has no
intention to make light, as might appear from the following, of what was
a fearful occurrence. He relates the simple truth, as many can attest.
Some fastidious critics have objected to the details of this tragedy in
former editions of this book, but Truth is mighty and ought to prevail.
That Newby's body was torn by hogs at Harper's Ferry is too well known
to require an apology for a relation of the facts, although the details
are undoubtedly disgusting. Shortly after Newby's death a hog came up,
rooted around the spot where the body lay and, at first appeared to be
unconscious that anything extraordinary was in its way. After a while,
the hog paused and looked attentively at the body, then snuffed around
it and put its snout to the dead man's face. Suddenly, the brute was
apparently seized with a panic and, with bristles erect and drooping
tail, it scampered away, as if for dear life. This display of
sensibility did not, however, deter others of the same species from
crowding around the corpse and almost literally devouring it. The writer
saw all this with his own eyes, as the saying is, and, at the risk of
further criticism, he will remark that none of the good people of
Harper's Ferry appeared to be at all squeamish about the quality or
flavor of their pork that winter. Nobody thought on the subject or, if
anybody did recall the episode, it was, no doubt, to give credit to the
hogs for their rough treatment of the invaders.

On Tuesday evening, after Brown's capture, and when the people were
somewhat relieved from the terror of a more extensive and dangerous
invasion, a citizen of Harper's Ferry, who had not had a chance to
distinguish himself in the skirmish of Monday, fired a shot into what
was left of Newby's body, a feat which, it must be supposed, tended to
exalt him, at least, in his own estimation. Like Kirkpatrick at the
murder of the Red Comyn, he thought he would "make sicker" and guard
against any possibility of the dead man's reviving. The citizen referred
to was somewhat under the influence of whiskey when he fired the
superfluous shot, but the writer saw another man who was apparently
sober and who was certainly a person of excellent standing in the
community, kick the dead man in the face and, on the whole, great a
crime as the invasion of the place was and natural as the animosity
towards the raiders should be considered, it must be confessed that the
treatment the lifeless bodies of those wretched men received from some
of the infuriated populace was far from creditable to the actors or to
human nature in general.

Shields Greene alias "Emperor" was a negro of the blackest hue, small in
stature and very active in his movements. He seemed to be very officious
in the early part of Monday, flitting about from place to place, and he
was evidently conscious of his own great importance in the enterprise.
It is supposed that it was he that killed Mr. Boerly. He is said to have
been a resident of the State of New York, but little is known with
certainty about him. He was very insulting to Brown's prisoners,
constantly presenting his rifle and threatening to shoot some of them.
He was aged about thirty years.

John Copeland was a mulatto of medium size, and about twenty-five years
of age. He was a resident of Oberlin, Ohio, where he carried on the
carpenter business for some years.

Lewis Leary, a mulatto, was mortally wounded at the rifle factory in
Monday's skirmish and died in a carpenter's shop on the island. He was a
young man, but his personal appearance cannot be described minutely by
any person not acquainted with him before the raid, as he was suffering
a great deal from wounds when he was captured and, of course, his looks
were not those that were natural to him. He, too, had resided in
Oberlin, and his trade was that of harness making.

A negro man whom Colonel Washington had hired from a neighbor and who
had been taken prisoner with his employer on the previous night was
drowned while endeavoring to escape from his captors. He was an
unwilling participant in the transactions of the day, and no blame was
attached to him by the people.

Heywood Shepherd, the first man killed by Brown's party, was a very
black negro aged about forty-four years. He was uncommonly tall,
measuring six feet and five inches, and he was a man of great physical
strength. He was a free man, but, in order to comply with a law then
existing in Virginia, he acknowledged 'Squire Beckham as his master. The
relations of master and slave, however, existed only in name between
them and "Heywood" accumulated a good deal of money and owned some
property in Winchester. He was a married man and he left a wife and
several children. It is supposed by many that the killing of this man
was the only thing that prevented a general insurrection of the negroes,
for some of the farmers of the neighborhood said that they noticed an
unusual excitement among the slaves on the Sunday before the raid. If it
is true that the negroes knew anything of the intended attack, it is
probable that they were deterred from taking a part in it by seeing one
of their own race the first person sacrificed.

Thomas Boerly, the second man killed, was a native of the County of
Roscommon, in Ireland. As before noticed, he was a man of great physical
strength and he was noted for courage. He measured about six feet in
height and weighed about two hundred pounds. He was a blunt,
straight-forward man in his dealing and he was very popular on account
of his love for fun and from that unreasonable tendency of human nature
to pay respect to the purely accidental quality of personal prowess.
Many years before he encountered at fisticuffs an equally powerful man
named Joseph Graff, who, at that time, resided at Harper's Ferry. The
fight was conducted in the old border style of "rough and tumble,"
including biting and gouging. Night alone terminated the encounter and
the combatants parted with their mutual respect greatly augmented and
with a great accession of glory to both. The admirers of each party
claimed a victory for their champion, but the principals themselves
wisely divided the laurels and never again jeopardized their reputation
by renewing the contest. Mr. Boerly's age was about forty-three years.
He was married and he left three children. His youngest child, Thomas,
junior, still resides at Harper's Ferry and is quite a prominent
citizen. He has inherited the great bodily powers and the many genial
characteristics of his father. The State of Virginia granted a small
pension to the widow but, the war breaking out shortly afterwards, she
received no benefit from the annuity until at the restoration of peace,
her claim was brought to the notice of the state authorities. From that
time, until her death a few years ago, she was paid punctually. Mr.
Boerly kept a grocery store and was in very comfortable circumstances.

Thomas Boerly, junior, was the mayor of Harper's Ferry who arrested and
brought to justice Erwin Ford, the brutal murderer of Elsie Kreglow, of
the District of Columbia, in 1896.

George Turner, the third man killed (of the citizens) was a very fine
looking man, aged about forty years. It is said that he was educated at
West Point and that he was distinguished for great polish and refinement
of manners. He was unmarried and he left a good deal of property. He was
a native of Jefferson county, Virginia--now West Virginia.

Fountain Beckham, the fourth and last of the citizen's party killed, was
like the others, a tall, powerfully built man. His age was about sixty
years. He was a native of Culpeper county, Virginia, and a brother of
Armistead Beckham, heretofore mentioned as master-armorer. As before
stated, he had been for many years a magistrate of the County of
Jefferson and the agent of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad company at
Harper's Ferry. At the time of his death he was mayor of the town. He
was a widower and two sons and a daughter survived him. Mr. Beckham was
in many respects a remarkable man. It was said that he was the best
magistrate that Jefferson county ever had, his decisions being always
given with a view rather to the justice than to the law of the cases
and, in many instances, being marked with great shrewdness and soundness
of judgment. On the other hand he was sometimes very whimsical, and some
amusing scenes used to be enacted between him and "Haywood"--his
factotum. Frequently, the squire would give unreasonable or
contradictory orders to his servant who never hesitated on such
occasions to refuse obedience, and it was no uncommon thing to see
Haywood starting out from the railroad office with a bundle on his back
en route for Winchester, and swearing that he would not serve the squire
another day for any consideration. He never proceeded very far, however,
before he was over-taken by a message from his master conveying
proposals for peace and Haywood never failed to return. Notwithstanding
their frequent rows, a strong attachment existed between these two men
through life; and in death they were not parted. Mr. Beckham was very
respectably connected. His sister was the wife of Mr. Stubblefield, so
long superintendent of the armory, and his niece, Miss Stubblefield, was
married to Andrew Hunter, of Charlestown, one of the most eminent
lawyers of Virginia. Mr. Beckham's wife was the daughter of Colonel
Stevenson, of Harper's Ferry, and, thus, it will be seen that he was
connected with many of the most influential families of the Northern
Neck. Mr. Beckham's death was mourned as a public loss for, with many
oddities of manner, he had all the qualities that go to make a lovable
man and a good citizen.

The nine citizens who were confined as hostages in the engine house were
as follows: Colonel Lewis W. Washington and John Alstadt, planters; John
E. P. Dangerfield, paymaster's clerk; Armistead M. Ball,
master-machinist; Benjamin Mills, master-armorer; John Donohoo,
assistant agent of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad at Harper's Ferry;
Terence O'Byrne, a farmer residing in Washington county, Maryland;
Israel Russell, a merchant of Harper's Ferry, and a Mr. Schoppe, of
Frederick City, Maryland, who happened to be on a business visit that
day at the scene of the trouble.

[Illustration: JEFFERSON'S ROCK]

Colonel Lewis W. Washington was at the time a very fine looking man of
about fifty years of age, with that unmistakable air that always
accompanies a man of true patrician birth and education. He was the soul
of hospitality and Cook used to visit him at his home for the
ostensible purpose of contending with him in pistol shooting, an art in
which both were famous adepts. On these occasions Colonel Washington
used to exhibit the sword and some other relics of his great namesake
and grand-uncle, and, thus it was that Cook and his companions in the
conspiracy gained so intimate a knowledge of Colonel Washington's
household arrangements and were enabled to find at once the place in
which the relics were stored and to capture the owner without
difficulty. Cook was entertained hospitably whenever he visited the
generous Virginian, and the ingratitude manifested towards Colonel
Washington was, perhaps, the worst feature of the whole transaction, and
it is not to be excused for the moral effect that the capture might be
expected to secure. The grand-nephew of the founder of our nation, it is
said, exhibited on this occasion a great deal of the dignity and
calmness which characterized his illustrious kinsman and his fellow
captives used to speak of his great coolness under the trying
circumstances of his situation.

Colonel Washington, in his testimony before the select committee of the
United States Senate, appointed to inquire into the outrage, gave a
graphic description of his capture by the party. He described them as
having consisted of Stevens, Tydd, Taylor and the negro, Shields Greene.
Another, named Merriam, was supposed to be about the premises, but he
was not seen by Colonel Washington. In his recital no mention is made of
Cook's presence at the capture, but it was ascertained afterwards that
though he was not there in person, the captors had got from him all
necessary information and that they acted under his instructions. It may
be remarked that Merriam, although he is known to have been connected
with the enterprise, was not seen in the skirmish at Harper's Ferry, and
what became of him afterwards is unknown to the writer. It was
understood that he was an Englishman by birth and that, in early life,
he was a protege of Lady Byron, widow of the celebrated poet. Colonel
Washington was one of those who disagreed with the author as to the
identity of Stuart Taylor. In the writer's opinion Anderson and not
Taylor accompanied the party to make the seizure. The colonel had
several narrow escapes from death while in the hands of "the
Philistines." About the time when Mr. Beckham was killed, Brown was
sitting on the fire engine near the engine house door, rifle in hand,
apparently watching an opportunity to make a good shot. Colonel
Washington noticed him fingering his gun abstractedly, and like a person
touching the strings of a violin and, being somewhat struck with the
oddity of the idea, he approached Brown, for the purpose of inquiring if
he had learned to play the fiddle. It is easy to imagine the answer the
stern, old Puritan would have returned, had there been time enough to
propound the question. As Colonel Washington came near Brown, a bullet
from the outside whistled immediately over the head of the latter,
penetrated the handle of an axe that was suspended on the engine and
passed through Colonel Washington's beard, striking the wall near him
and sprinkling brick dust all over him. Brown coolly remarked, "that was
near," and Colonel Washington postponed his inquiry, thereby consigning
posterity to ignorance on the momentous question as to whether John
Brown played the fiddle or not. The colonel deeming it prudent to leave
that neighborhood, moved a little to one side, when he entered into
conversation with Mr. Mills, another of the prisoners. Their faces were
not four inches apart, yet through this narrow passage, another bullet
sped and the friends finding one place as safe as another continued
their conversation.

Colonel Washington at that time owned a dog of very eccentric appearance
and habits and apparently of a most unamiable disposition. His name was
"Bob" and he was of the common bull species. With other peculiarities,
he was remarkable for having been born without a tail. Nature, however,
with that tendency to compensation which our common Mother exhibits in
awarding gifts to her children, gave him more than an equivalent for the
caudal deficiency by providing him with an extra allowance of brains. He
made it a point to visit several times every day the laborers on the
plantation and, if there were more than one party of them, he would
inspect each in turn, and eye the negroes suspiciously, after which he
would return to his bed which was in front of the main entrance to the
house. He never made free with any person, not even with his master, who
tried frequently, but in vain, to induce his surly dependant to follow
him 'round the farm. His morose disposition and the jealous eye with
which he always regarded the negroes gave rise to superstitious dread of
the animal among the servants and a belief that in him was the soul of
some defunct plantation overseer who, with the ruling passion strong
=after= death, continued to exercise his favorite avocation. Pythagoras
himself would, no doubt, have agreed with the negroes, had he known
"Bob" and his peculiarities, and it may be supposed that the philosopher
would have pointed triumphantly to this overwhelming proof of the
Metempsychosis. On the night of Colonel Washington's capture, however,
Bob's whole nature appeared to undergo a change. He accompanied his
master to Harper's Ferry, stuck by him all day on Monday and, when
Colonel Washington was confined in the engine house as a hostage, his
faithful though hitherto undemonstrative dog followed him into close
captivity. Brown and his men tried to eject him and even his master
endeavored to induce him to go out, but in vain. When Colonel Washington
was released, he lost him in the dense crowd, but, on reaching home on
Tuesday night, he found the metamorphosed overseer waiting for him at
the gate and exhibiting signs of the most extravagant joy at his return.
After this, the dog was regarded with more favor and many of the negroes
from that time rejected the former theory of transmigration as a slander
on the faithful animal. Many years ago, at a ripe canine age, poor Bob
was gathered to his fathers, and he sleeps in an honored grave in the
plantation garden, but, as slavery has been abolished in the United
States and bids fairly to disappear from the whole earth, it might
puzzle even Pythagoras himself to find a suitable tenement for the now
unhappy shade of the overseer. Colonel Washington died at his residence
near Harper's Ferry October 1st, 1871, much regretted by all who had the
pleasure of his acquaintance.

Mr. Alstadt was a gentleman then about sixty years of age, of very
unassuming manners and amiable disposition. He, too, was examined before
the Senate committee and gave a lively picture of his adventures while a
prisoner. His son, Thomas, then a little boy, was taken prisoner with
his father or voluntarily accompanied the party to Harper's Ferry to
watch for the old gentleman's safety. Mr. Alstadt, senior, has been dead
for some years, but Thomas yet survives, now a well-matured man, and he
is probably the only one of the prisoners who were confined in the
engine house who survives, with the possible exception of Messrs. Mills
and Schoppe, of whom nothing has been heard at Harper's Ferry for the
last forty years.

John E. P. Dangerfield was then a man of about forty years of age and of
a very delicate constitution. He bore up very well, however, and when he
was released by the marines his physical strength had not given way, as
his friends feared it would. At the breaking out of the war he moved to
North Carolina and there he died suddenly a few years ago while on a
hunt in the woods. It is supposed that his death was caused by too
severe exertion while he was prosecuting a favorite sport.

Armistead M. Ball was at that time a man of about forty-six years of
age. He was very corpulent but, notwithstanding his great bulk, his
health was delicate. He died in June, 1861, of apoplexy. As before said,
he was a man of great mechanical ingenuity. He invented a rifling
machine which was used for several years in the armory, and was regarded
as an excellent piece of mechanism. Many people, however, believed that
Mr. Ball owed much of his reputation to ideas borrowed from a man named
John Wernwag who, at that time and for many years before and afterwards,
lived at Harper's Ferry and whose name will hereafter appear in this
history in connection with a thrilling adventure in the great flood of
1870. Mr. Wernwag was, confessedly, a great genius in mechanics, but,
as he was a man of very retiring habits and taciturn disposition, he
never made any show of his ability and, consequently, only a few were
aware of the wealth of mechanical genius that was possessed by this
unassuming man, but was lost to the world through his unfortunate
bashfulness. He and Mr. Ball used to take long and frequent rambles over
the neighboring heights, and it was supposed that in their conversation
on those excursions the latter got many hints which he improved and
practically elucidated in his mechanical devices.

Benjamin Mills was a man of about fifty years of age at the time of the
Brown raid, low in stature but muscular and active. As before stated, he
soon after returned to Harrodsburg, Kentucky, from which place he had
come to Harper's Ferry. The writer knows not whether he yet survives or
not.

John Donohoo was at the time quite a good looking young man of about
thirty-five years of age. He was a native of Ireland, but a resident of
this country from his childhood. For many years his home was at Harper's
Ferry, where he was highly respected for his integrity and business
qualifications. His life was one of many vicissitudes and he died in the
spring of 1892 at Hagerstown, Maryland.

Terence O'Byrne was at the time of the raid about forty-eight years of
age. He was, as far as is known here, the last survivor of the hostages,
except young Alstadt. As his name indicates, he was of Irish extraction.
He was in comfortable circumstances and resided near the Kennedy farm
where, unfortunately for him, he became well known to Brown and his men.
Mr. O'Byrne was examined before the Senate committee and testified that
the party who captured him was composed of Cook, Tydd and Lehman. They
visited his house early on Monday morning and conducted him a prisoner
to Harper's Ferry. Mr. O'Byrne died about the year 1898.

Israel Russell was then about fifty years of age. He was for many years
a magistrate of Jefferson county, and was very much respected. He died a
few years ago from a disease of the jaw, caused by the extraction of a
defective tooth. It is strange that men will often escape unhurt from
the most appalling dangers to succumb to apparently trivial ailments or
casualties.

Of Mr. Schoppe little is known at Harper's Ferry. As before stated, he
was a resident of Frederick City, Maryland, and his connection with the
raid was due entirely to his accidental presence at the scene of
disturbance on the memorable 17th of October.

Of the Grand Jury that indicted Brown and the Petit Jury that tried and
condemned him there is but one survivor, as far as the writer knows, Mr.
Martin, now of Virginia. Judge Parker, who presided at the trial, and
the lawyers--Hunter and Harding--who prosecuted, have all "crossed the
bar" as have, probably, the strangers who defended. The
sheriff--Cambell--who officiated at the execution, and all his deputies,
have passed away. Lee and Stuart are dead, and it is believed that of
all who figured prominently in this remarkable tragedy the juror above
referred to is the only survivor, with the exceptions before named and
possibly that of Lieutenant Greene of the marines; but John Brown's fame
is on the increase and time enhances it, call him what you will. It is
remarkable that the gentlemen who were Brown's prisoners displayed
little or no vindictiveness towards the man who had subjected them to so
much danger. The writer frequently noticed in conversation with them
that they invariably dwelt on his extraordinary courage and that the
animosity, which it was natural they should feel on account of his
treatment of them, was lost in their admiration for his daring, though
misguided bravery. Mr. Donohoo visited him in prison and, very much to
his credit, exhibited towards his fallen foe a generosity characteristic
of the man himself and the gallant nation of his birth.

The story of the Brown raid should not close without notice of another
party who figured rather curiously in that memorable transaction. At
that time there lived at Harper's Ferry a half-witted fellow, named John
Malloy, who managed to gain a precarious living by getting scraps of
broken bread and meat from the kitchens of the people, in return for
services rendered in carrying water from the town pump and the river. He
was never known to sleep in a house--a door step answering all the
purposes of a bed, and a store box being regarded by him as a positive
luxury. When drunk--which was as often as he could get whiskey
enough--he had a particular fancy for a sleep on the railroad track and,
in consequence, he was run over several times by the trains, but it
appeared as if nothing could kill him. On one occasion the point of a
"cow catcher" entered his neck and he was pushed by the engine a
considerable distance. Even this did not terminate his charmed life, but
several ugly scars remained as mementos of the adventure. Like others,
he was taken prisoner by Brown and confined in the armory yard. About 3
o'clock in the afternoon of Monday when the alarm had spread a long way
and people had crowded in from the surrounding country, armed with every
species of weapon they could lay hands on, John managed to escape by
climbing the armory wall. When he was seen getting over, the country
people to whom he was unknown supposed that he was one of Brown's men,
and score of them blazed away at him with their guns. A shower of
bullets whistled 'round him and his clothes, never in the best of
repair, were almost shot off his body. No less than twenty balls
perforated his coat, but, strange to say, he escaped without a scratch
and succeeded in regaining his liberty. When, after the raid, strangers
visited the scene, John always made it a point to be about, exhibiting
the scars which he had received from the cowcatcher and attributing them
to wounds inflicted by Brown's party. Many a dollar did John receive on
the strength of those scars and, no doubt, he has figured in many a
tourist's book as a hero and a martyr to the cause of the "Divine
Institution." His escape from the bullets of his neighbors was certainly
remarkable, and it goes to prove the truth of the old proverb: "A fool
for luck, &c." Notwithstanding his many close calls and his persistent
good fortune, poor John finally succumbed to a combined assault of
smallpox and bad whiskey. He was attacked by the former disease in the
war--the other he was never without and in a delirium, he wandered away
and was found dead in a fence corner.

The foregoing is a succinct account of the so-called "Brown Raid," an
invasion which may be considered as the commencement of our unhappy
civil war. Of course, it created intense excitement all over the land
and the feeling aroused had not subsided when the election of Mr.
Lincoln in November, 1860, renewed the quarrel on a greater scale. As
before noticed, a select committee of the United States Senate was
appointed to investigate the occurrence, and the following gentlemen
testified before it: John Alstadt, A. M. Ball, George W. Chambers, Lynd
F. Currie, Andrew Hunter, A. M. Kitzmiller, Dr. John D. Starry, John C.
Unseld, Lewis W. Washington and Daniel Whelan, all of Harper's Ferry or
its neighborhood. Many gentlemen from the northern and western states,
also, who were supposed to be sympathizers with Brown were called on to
give testimony. Prominent among these were John A. Andrews, a lawyer of
Boston, afterwards governor of Massachusetts, and Joshua R. Giddings, a
leading anti-slavery man of Ohio and for many years a member of Congress
from that state. Nothing, however, was elicited to prove that any
considerable number of the people of the Free States knew of the
contemplated invasion and unprejudiced minds were convinced that the
knowledge of it was confined mostly to John Brown and the party that
accompanied him on the expedition.

Thus Harper's Ferry enjoys the distinction of having been the scene of
the first act in our fearful drama of civil war, and as will be seen
hereafter, it was the theatre of many another part of the awful
tragedy.




CHAPTER V.

DURING THE WAR.


In the following we sometimes, indifferently use the words "rebel,"
"insurgent" and "confederate," "federal," "union men," "northern men"
&c. These different epithets are used only to avoid disagreeable
repetitions of the same words. There is no offense intended, and it is
hoped that none will be taken. George Washington was a rebel and he was
proud to be considered one. We have noticed lately that some people are
sensitive on this subject, and hence our explanation. Personally, we owe
too little to either party to take sides very decidedly.

When, on the election of Mr. Lincoln, the Gulf states seceded and the
Legislature of Virginia called a convention of the people to consider
what course was best to be pursued under the circumstances, Mr. A. M.
Barbour, superintendent of the Harper's Ferry armory, and Mr. Logan
Osborne, both now dead, were elected to the convention to represent the
union sentiment of the county of Jefferson over Andrew Hunter and
William Lucas, eminent lawyers, both of whom, also, are now deceased,
who were nominated on the secession ticket. While in Richmond, however,
attending the convention, Mr. Barbour is said to have been drawn into
the vortex of rebellion through the powerful influences brought to bear
by the secessionists on the members of that body. Mr. Barbour's family
is one of the oldest and most aristocratic in Virginia, and many of his
relatives had seats in the convention and were ultra-southern in their
views. These, no doubt, had great influence over him, and, anyway he was
finally induced to vote for a separation of his native state from the
union. Indeed, many at Harper's Ferry who voted for him at the election,
did so with strong misgivings respecting his sincerity, but, as there
was no better choice under the circumstances, they gave him their
support. Some who enjoyed his confidence said that he afterwards
bitterly regretted his course, and the writer is convinced that Mr.
Barbour acted from sheer compulsion. The author of these pages was then
a young man--poor and without weight in the community, but Mr. Barbour
appeared to have some confidence in his judgment, for he sought an
interview with him and asked him his advice as to the proper course to
pursue in the convention. The author told him that he had a fine chance
to immortalize himself by holding out for the Union of the States; that
he was of a prominent southern family and that, if he proved faithful,
his loyalty under the circumstances would give him such a national
reputation as he could not hope for from the opposite course. They
parted to meet but once again, and that for only a minute. After the
fatal vote of the convention, Mr. Barbour called on business at the
place where the author was employed and said just three words to
him--"You were right." These words told the tale of compulsion or,
perhaps, of contrition. The ordinance of secession was passed by the
Virginia convention on the 17th of April, 1861, and, on the following
day Mr. Barbour made his appearance at Harper's Ferry in company with
Mr. Seddon, afterwards prominent in the confederate government. He made
a speech to his old employes advising them to co-operate with their
native state and give in their allegiance to the new order of things. He
appeared to be laboring under great excitement caused, perhaps, by his
consciousness of having done wrong and unwisely. This speech excited the
anger of the unionists to a high pitch, as he had received their
suffrages on the understanding that he was for the old government
unconditionally. A partial riot took place and the appearance soon after
of a southern soldier, a young man named John Burk, on guard over the
telegraph office, aroused the loyalists to frenzy. Lieutenant Roger
Jones, with forty-two regular United States soldiers, was then stationed
at Harper's Ferry, a company of military having been kept there by the
government for the protection of the place since the Brown raid. Hearing
that a large force was marching from the south to take possession of the
armory, he made some preparations to defend the post and called on the
citizens for volunteers. Many responded, prominent among whom was a
gigantic Irishman named Jeremiah Donovan, who immediately shouldered a
musket and stood guard at the armory gate. This man was the first--at
least in that region--who took up arms in defense of the government and,
as will be seen shortly, he was very near paying a heavy penalty for his
patriotism. As before mentioned, a southern soldier was on guard at the
telegraph office and he and Donovan were not fifty yards apart at their
posts. To use a homely phrase, Harper's Ferry was "between hawk and
buzzard," a condition in which it remained 'till the war was ended four
years afterwards. All day the wildest excitement prevailed in the town.
All business was suspended except in the bar-rooms, and many fist fights
came off between the adherents of the adverse factions. Mr. William F.
Wilson, an Englishman by birth, but long a resident of the place,
attempted to address the people in favor of the Union, but he was
hustled about so that his words could not be heard distinctly. Mr.
Wilson continued all through the war to be an ardent supporter of the
Federal government. Mr. George Koonce, a man of great activity and
personal courage, and Mr. Wilson, above mentioned, who is also a man of
great nerve, were very prompt in volunteering their aid to Lieutenant
Jones, and the latter put great confidence in them. With a few young men
they advanced a little before midnight to meet the Virginia militia,
about two thousand in number, who were marching towards Harper's Ferry
from Charlestown. They encountered and, it is said, actually halted them
on Smallwood's Ridge, near Bolivar. At this moment, however, news
reached them that Lieutenant Jones, acting on orders from Washington
City or under directions from Captain Kingsbury, who had been sent from
the capital the day before to take charge of the armory, had set fire to
the government buildings and, with his men, retreated towards the north.
This left the volunteers in a very awkward position, but they succeeded
in escaping in the darkness from the host of enemies that confronted
them. Mr. Koonce was obliged to leave the place immediately and remain
away until the town again fell into the hands of the United States
troops. A loud explosion and a thick column of fire and smoke arising in
the direction of Harper's Ferry, gave to the confederate force
information of the burning, and they proceeded at double quick to save
the machinery in the shops and the arms in the arsenal for the use of
the revolutionary government. Before they had time to reach Harper's
Ferry the citizens of that place had extinguished the fire in the shops
and saved them and the machinery. The arsenal, however, was totally
consumed with about fifteen thousand stand of arms there stored--a very
serious loss to the confederates, who had made calculations to get
possession of them. Lieutenant Jones had put powder in the latter
building and hence the explosion which had given notice to the
confederates and, hence, also, the impossibility of saving the arsenal
or its contents. Just at 12 o'clock on the night of April 18th, 1861,
the southern forces marched into Harper's Ferry. Poor Donovan was seized
and it is said that a rope was put 'round his neck by some citizens of
the place who held secession views, and who threatened to hang him
instanter. A better feeling, however, prevailed and Donovan was
permitted to move north and seek employment under the government of his
choice. The forces that first took possession of Harper's Ferry were all
of Virginia and this was lucky for Donovan, for the soldiers of that
state were the most 

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/35459