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