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

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,