The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country. Joseph Barry
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Court of the United States, was one of the Wager family and their son was General Wager Swaim, much distinguished in the Union army during the late rebellion. Just as this goes to press we learn of his death.
Mr. Harper was interred on his own property and his moss-grown grave is yet to be seen in the romantically situated cemetery that overlooks the town – the same heretofore mentioned, as affording the best point from which to view the scenery. By a provision of his will, several acres of land were bequeathed to the place, as a burial ground – his own grave to be in the centre – and now, a very large number sleep their dreamless sleep in a beautiful though until lately a sadly neglected cemetery around the founder of the village.
Few of the events that transpired in Mr. Harper's time are recorded. Shortly after building the house on Shenandoah street he erected a large stone dwelling on what is now called High street. This house yet stands and occasionally it is occupied by some of his heirs. He experienced great difficulty in finishing this building, owing to a scarcity of mechanics, nearly all the able-bodied men of the place and neighborhood having gone to join the army of Washington. It is recorded that an intimate friend of Mr. Harper, named Hamilton, lost his life in this house, by an accidental fall and this tradition, coupled with the age of the house, gives a sombre character to the building. At the time of Mr. Harper's death, therefore, there were but three houses at "The Ferry."
In 1748, there was a great flood in the Potomac, which, according to some memoranda left by the founder of the place, drove him from the house he then occupied – the Stevens cabin – and another, though a less freshet, called "The Pumpkin Flood," is recorded as having occurred in 1753. The latter derived its name from the great numbers of pumpkins which it washed away from the gardens of the Indians who, then, resided in scattered lodges along the two rivers.
It is said that, at the commencement of the Revolution Mr. Harper's sympathies were Tory, but that, soon, he espoused the cause of his adopted country.
In 1794, during the administration of General Washington, Harper's Ferry was chosen as the site of a national armory. It is said that the great Father of his Country, himself, suggested it as the best location then known for the purpose, having visited the place in person. This is a tradition among the people and, if it is true, it is characteristic of the most sagacious of men. The water-power at the place is immense, some people supposing it to be the finest in the world. The Valley of Virginia and that of Middletown, as well as the fertile plains of Loudoun, gave promise of an abundance of the necessaries of life and, perhaps, with the eye of prophecy, he saw railroads penetrating the wilderness of the Allegheny regions and transporting its then hidden mineral treasures to aid in the proposed manufacture of arms. In the year above mentioned Congress applied to the General Assembly of Virginia for permission to purchase the site and, by a vote of the latter, leave was granted to buy a tract, not exceeding six hundred and forty acres. Accordingly a body of land containing one hundred and twenty-five acres was bought from the heirs of Mr. Harper. This tract is contained in a triangle formed by the two rivers and a line running from the Potomac to the Shenandoah along what is now called Union Street. Another purchase was made of three hundred and ten acres from a Mr. Rutherford. The latter tract is that on which the village of Bolivar now stands. In some time after, Congress desiring to obtain the benefit of the fine timber growing on the Loudoun Heights and not deeming it proper to ask for any further concessions from the State of Virginia, leased in perpetuity of Lord Fairfax, proprietor of "The Northern Neck," the right to all the timber growing and to grow on a tract of thirteen hundred and ninety-five acres on the Loudoun Heights immediately adjoining Harper's Ferry.
Thus prepared, the government commenced the erection of shops, and in 1796, a Mr. Perkins, an English Moravian, was appointed to superintend the works. He is represented as having been an amiable, unsophisticated man, and tradition still tells of his simplicity of dress and deportment. During his time, nothing of moment occurred at the place. The town was yet in its infancy, with very few denizens, and, as the period antedates the time of that venerable personage – the oldest inhabitant – very little is known of what took place during Mr. Perkins' administration. One or two centenarians, now a few years deceased, however retained some faint remembrance of him and another Englishman, named Cox, who had been for many years employed under him as a man of all work, and who had followed him to Harper's Ferry from southern Virginia, where Mr. Perkins had formerly resided. On one occasion, Cox was required by his employer to attend to his – Perkins' – garden which was overrun with weeds. For some reason, Cox did not relish the job, but gave, however, a grumbling consent. Next morning, Cox commenced weeding and, towards evening, he presented himself to Mr. Perkins with the information that "he had made a clean sweep of it." The master was much gratified and he told Mrs. Perkins to give Cox a dram of whiskey for which the latter had a good relish. On visiting his garden next day, Mr. Perkins discovered that, sure enough, Cox had made a clean sweep. The weeds were all gone, but so were cabbages, turnips, carrots and everything else of the vegetable kind. In great wrath, he sent for Cox, charged him with every crime in the calendar and, with a kick on the seat of honor, ejected him from the house, at the same time forbidding him to show his face again around the works. Cox retreated hastily, muttering "the devil a step will I go – the devil a step will I go." He made his way to the shop where he was usually employed and, the good-natured Perkins, soon forgetting his anger towards his old follower, "the devil a step," sure enough, did Cox go from Harper's Ferry. Sir Walter Scott relates that a Scotch nobleman once addressed him in the following words an old and spoiled servant of his family who had given him mortal offense. "John, you can no longer serve me. Tomorrow morning either you or I must leave this house." "Aweel, master," replied John, "if y're determined on ganging awa, we would like to ken what direction ye'll be takin." No doubt, the same relations existed between Mr. Perkins and Cox as between the nobleman and his servant.
In 1799, during the administration of John Adams, in anticipation of a war with France, the government organized a considerable army for defense. A part of the forces was sent, under General Pinkney, into camp at Harper's Ferry, and the ridge on which they were stationed has ever since been called, "Camp Hill." It runs north and south between Harper's Ferry and Bolivar. When the war cloud disappeared many of the soldiers settled down at the place. A good many had died while in the service, and their bodies are buried on the western slope of Camp Hill. Although the mortal portion of them has mingled, long since, with Mother earth, their spirits are said to hover still around the scene of their earthly campaign and "oft in the stilly night" are the weird notes of their fifes and the clatter of their drums heard by belated Harper's Ferryans. The colored people who appear to be especially favored with spirit manifestations, bear unanimous testimony to these facts, and it is well known that some fine houses in the neighborhood were, for many years, without tenants in consequence of their being supposed to be places of rendezvous for these errant spirits. Once, over forty years ago, the writer spent a winter's night in one of these houses, in company with a corpse and the recollection of the feelings he experienced, on that occasion, still causes the few hairs he has retained to stick up "like the quills of the fretful porcupine." The deceased was a stranger who had taken temporary possession of the house and had died there very suddenly. He had been keeping bachelor's hall there and, as he had no relatives at the place, a committee of charitable citizens undertook the care of the remains, and the writer, then a young man, affecting some courage, was detailed to watch the corpse for one night. The house had an uncanny reputation, any way, and a corpse was not exactly the companion a man would choose to stay with, in a haunted house, but the writer was then courting and desired to rise in the estimation of his girl, and this nerved him to the task. He held to it, but, gentle reader, that was a very long night, indeed, and even such fame as he acquired on that occasion and the approval of his loved one would, never again, be inducement enough for him to undergo a similar ordeal. But the spirits of the soldiers behaved with commendable decency on the occasion and "not a drum was heard" or fife either. The corpse, too, conducted itself discreetly but, dear reader, that night was a very long one notwithstanding, and the daylight, when at last it did appear, was enthusiastically welcomed by the quaking watcher.
At that time – 1799 – a bitter war existed between the Federalists and Republicans, and a certain Captain Henry, in General Pinkney's army is said to have taken his company, one day, to Jefferson's Rock and ordered them to overthrow the favorite seat of Jefferson, his political enemy. They succeeded in detaching a large boulder