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American
Myths & Legends
By the Same Author
MYTHS AND LEGENDS BEYOND OUR
BORDERS
MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF OUR NEW
POSSESSIONS
MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF OUR OWN
LAND
Four volumes in a box. 12mo. Cloth, gilt top,
$6.00; three-quarters calf or three-quarters mo-
rocco, $I2.00. Also sold sejarately
DO-NOTHING DAYS
WITH FEET TO THE EARTH
Illu$trat~d by photogra'llUreS from drawings by
Violet Oakley and E_ S_ Holloway
"mo_ Cloth. gilt top. deckle edges, $3_00; half
calf, $6.00. Also sold separately
FLOWERS IN THE PAVE

Illustrated with four photogravures by Eliza-
beth Shippen Green and E_ S_ Hollo1vay
I2mo. Cloth. extra, $1.50
American
~_ Myths&Legends
Vol. I.
Philadelphia 6' London

J. B.Llppincott Company
COPYRIGHT, 1903
BY
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
Published October, I903
Printed bJ J. B. Lippin cott Compan}

Phi/ad,Tphia, u. S. A.
TO
DR. JOSEPH H. HUNT

Preface
THE greeting to my first book has encour-

aged me to continue thc collection of our
legends. Americans have an interest in their
own traditions, at least such as conccrn the land
during the centuries of white occupancy-a f act
disclosed by the appearance, within half a dozen
years, of many stories, poems, and essays that
have for their subjects these transmittcd but
unverified histories. ·Where the legend becomes
parable or myth, and widens beyond any local
source or application, it is a subject for scien-
tific rather than popular treatment; because it
may then give a clue to tribal emigrations, race
origins, world faiths, and social history.
In these days we hear scorn for the rumors of
haunted houses and haunted men that figure in
so many rustic traditions, and for the transfor-
mations and supernatural appearances that per-
tain, not only among the records of early set-
tlers whose religious faith was deep, but to our
5
Preface
Indians; yet the belief in the immortality of the
spirit which is betokened in these stories is more
illuminative, as to certain phases of thought,
than are volumes given to the recounting of
merely material llappenings instructive as to
mankind's moral advancement.
I plead guilty to a bit of autorial conceit in
the preface to my " :Myths and Legends of Our
Own Land," in that I claimed for it "some
measure of completeness." I am older and wiser
now. The first collection was not complete, or
the second would not be here.
a
Contents
Vol. 1.
PA GK
THE SMOKING PINE •• •••••••••••••••••• ••••• ••• 13

VARIOUS GRINDSTONE HILL •••••••••••• •• ••••.•. 15
A PROPHET OF 'Y AR •••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 90
A SHOT IN THE MOONLIGHT ••••••••••••••••••••• 22
THE RESCUE OF l\lOLI.Y FINNEY .••••••••••••••••• 26
DEAD .MAN'S LEDGE ••••••••••••••••.•••••..••••• 29
MAINE'S 'VOODLAND TERRORS •••.••••... • •.•••..• 34
THE GREAT STONE FACE •••••••••••••..••••••... 40

THE STREAnI-SPIRIT'S 'YIFE ••••••••••••••••••••• 43
STONE 'VOllfAN OF SQUAnf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

THE CONFESSION OF HANSERD KNOLLYS •• • •••••••• 49
PEABODY'S LEAP •••••••••••••••••••••••••.•••••• 53
A TRAVELLED 1SARRATIVE •••..•.••...••.•••••• ! .. 54
TUE ESCAPED NUN ••••••••••.••••.••••.•.•••••• 59
THE LONG SLEEP •••••••••••••••.•.•••.•.••.•••• 63
TOM DUNN'S DANCE ON RAG ROCK •••••••••••••• 69
WOBURN GHOSTS ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 73

How THE BLACK HORSE WAS BEATEN .••• • •.•••.• 78
THE BREAKING OF PLYMOUTH ROCK •••.••••••••• 81

THE SWAN OF LIGHT • ••••••••••.••••••••.•••••• 83
THE LOVE OF A PRAYING INDIAN •••••••••••••.•. 85
THE GA~mER's MESSAGE •.•••.••••••••••••••••••• 89
CASE Of' THE BIlOTHEIlS BIlOWN •••.•. • ••.•••••••• 93
7
Contents
PAGE
A RECOVERED POCKET-BoOK..... .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
THE \Y ALKING CORPSE OF MALDEN •••••••••••••• 101
A ROLLICKING GHOST ••••••••••••••••••••••••• 105
CRYSTAL SPRING ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 108
THE CHEAPENING OF THE" Lucy JACKSON" ••••• 111
PARSON HOOKER'S GOLD PLATE .••••••••••••••••• 116
THE EVIL DOING OF HOBOl\IOC •••••••••••••••••• 119
THE TERRIBLE MOON AK •••••••••••••••••••••••• 1f2f2
PO~lPERAUG'S LOVE AND BURIAL ••••••••••••••.•• 1f25
BLOODy-HEART RHODODENDRONS .••••••••••••••• 1f29
CHARLOTTE TElIlPLE ••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 131
J AN SOL AND THE MONSTER 135
A GU'T FRO~[ ST. NICHOLAS 141
STATEN ISLAND DUELLING GROUND .••.•••••••••• 150
A TRANSFERRED LOVE •••••••••••••••••••••••••• 15f2
GHOSTS OF DOSORIS ••••••••••••.•.••••••••••••• 157
THE ROCK OF BATTLE ••••••.•••••••.•••••••••• 159
TUE NON-ARRIVAL OF FITZWILLIAM •.••.•••••••• 161
TRAGEDY OF THE SECRET HOOl\! •••••••••••••••••• 163
\Vuo WAS JOHN WALLACE? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
THE HUDSON SPIRITS ••••••••••••••.••..••..••• 169
UTSAYANTHA •.•••••••••••••••.••••••••••••••.• 173
UNCLE SAl\1 •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 174
THE GOLDEN TOOTH •.•.••..•••••••••••• . ' . . . . . . 176
THE \YHITE LADY OF DOBBS'S FERRy •••••••••••• 186
THE UNDERGROUND STATION ••••••••••••••••••• 188
THE INDIAN PRINCESS ApPLE 192
THE BLUE SKANEATELES 194
THE ONONDAGA FAIRIES 195
8
Contents
PACt!
GREYCOURT'S LITTLE HISTORY ••••.•• • . • • • . ••• . • • 198
TIlE GOOD BIRD Sl'IlIIT •••••••••••••••••••••.••• ~O;:?
THE Lon:us UNITED ••• ••••••••••••••••••••••••• ~07
POKE-Q'-)IoONSIIINE •••••••••••••••••••••..••.• ~ 10
THE XIAGARA THUNDEU GOD ••.•••••••••••••.•• ~ 1.J,
THE DEATH ON THE PALISADES • •.••••••••••••••• 218

PANTHER CHIEF OF THE SENECAS .•••.•••••••••• ~:?1
THE SPOOKS OF SCHOOLEY'S 1IIOUNTAIN .••••••••• 2;:?·t

THE HOeSE OF 1I1ISFOUTUNE
THE LONETOWN ?lInTERY •••••••••••••••••••••• 238

THE LEEDS DEVIL •••.••••••••••••••••••.•••••• ~.J,O
ROSE O'l\IALLY AND CALlXTO •••••••••••••••••••• 244

THE GOBLIN JESUIT •.•..•.•••••••••••••••••••• 2.J,8
A KINDNESS REPAID . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
THE "T HlTE "rOLF OF YENANGO •.•...•..••.•••• 25.J,
\VHEEUNG STOGIES ••••••..••..•..••.•.•.••..•• ~.56
THE MAN WITH THE SKATES • • • . . . . . . • • . . • . • . • . • 260

THE DEATH OF TAM~IANY •••••••.••••••••.•••. 2Go!
HEXENSHDEDL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ~67
A PHILADELPHIA EXCITEMENT •••.•••••••••••••• 270

THE BELLED BUZZARD .••.••••••..••••••••••••• 274
STICK PILE HILL •••....•.•.•.••.•••.••• 0 • 0 0 0 •• 275
THE PICTURE ThEE OF TENALLYTOWN .•••. 0 0 •• 0 0 ~78
THE DEVIL'S RACE-COUitSE •••.•••.••.•••••••••. 282

SPECTRES IN ANNAPOUS •••••••••••••••••••••••• 288
GOGGLE-EYED JU[ ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 292
THE DIS~[AL SWA~rp SHIP .••.••••.•.•••••..••• 295
JIl\lSON \VEED .••••••. o •••••••••••••••••• 0 o •••• 297
\VHITE HOUSE ~99
•
Contents
PAGE
THE VIRGINIA WITCH •••••••••• •• • •••.••••••.• 303

THE VIRGINIA COCKTAIL ••••••••• ••••••• • •••• • • 305
Two CHAMPIONS OF ELK RIVER. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• 307
CAPE FEAR RIVER OUTLAWS •••••••••• • •••.•...• 311
CAIN'S M A R K . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • • . • • • • 316
How BILL STOUT SETTLED A .MORTGAGE ••••••••••• 319
SOME GEORGIAN LyCANTHROPy •••••••••••••.••• 3!23
THE 'WHITE BRIDE OF ST. SIMON'S • • . • . . • . . . . . . • 398
THE DRINKING OF SWEET 'VATER ••••••••.••..••• 331
NANCY HART ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••.•••• 337
THE CELLS OF FORT MARION ••••••••••••••••.••• 339
THE CALOOSAHATCHIE SHE-MAN ••••••••••.•.•.• 345
THE BLOOD-RoSE ••••••.••.•••••••••••.••••.••• 349
ST. MARY'S PARADISE •••••••••••••••••••••••••• 351
10
IIIustra tions
Vol. 1.
PAGE
FORT l\1ARIOX, ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA
Froni'ispiece
A LOGGING-CA]}lP IN THE MAINE WOODS .. . . . . . . . . 34
SQUAU LAKE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
SCHOOLE Y'S MOU N TAI N. • . • • • . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •. 994,

American
Myths & Legends
o ~
THE S;\IOKING PI~E
the bank of the brook that bears the name

of Vaughn, at Hallowell, Maine, stands
the smoking pine. 'Vhen the stream, then known
as BOlllbahook, was first seen of white men the
wigwams of many Indians stood near this water
and the red people were friendly with the i,\-
,-aders. They asked only to be let alone. They
wished to live beside the stream. But whether
they were led into conflict with the whites, or
whether they succumbed to the diseases and vices
sown among them by the English,-and deadlier
they were than the weapons of their armies,-the
Indians began ere long to peak away in body
and lose the hold they had on life when they
were free of all horizons. Their chief, Asonimo,
realized, before many years had passed, that the
place which his brothers had held in the land
13
American Myths and Legends
was no longer secure; that although the white
people might still smile and withhold their hands
from wrath, the woods in which his fathers had
chased the deer and the fields where the squaws
had raised corn and fruits were not much longer
to be called his own. So he gathered his people
and told them that the Great Spirit had spoken
their fate: it was to be destruction. Yet he
warned them how useless it would be to strive
against their doom. The Great Spirit had willed
it; so let it be. They could at least spend their
declining days in peace with the new-comers and
secure life and some of the comforts of life
f41r their children. And he called the English
that were near and bade the red men light the
peace-pipe and smoke it with the settlers as a
token that nevermore should strife befall be-
tween them. And said he: "'When I am gone
a pine shall come from the earth above my body,
and from that pine the smoke shall rise, for a
sign of friendship that must always be between
you." It was but a little later that Asonimo was
struck dead by a thunderbolt ncar the spot where
this council had been held. Thc fate ordained
by the god had begun its work.
14
American :l\Iyths and Legends
He was put into the earth; and surely, as he
had spoken, there grew from his grave, by and
by, a pine that seemed to carry in its tough
branches the stoutness of the life that had been
ended there. In early summer, when his people
went back to that spot, great was their surprise
to see that the tree had grown to full height, and
lo! as he had told, the smoke of peace floated
from its branches and spread, mist-like, on the
breeze. It was a sign they dared not disobey.
They ceased their murmurings against the new-
comers in the land and went their way toward
the setting sun-in sorrow, but in wonder.
VARIOUS GRINDSTONE HILL
N EAR the west branch of the Penobscot

stands a tall hill, in the form of a grind-
stone on edge and half sunk in the ground. The
oddity of Grindstone Hill has giyen rise to many
queer tales, and none of those concerning its
origin agree with one another. The Indian story
is this:
Long before the white men crossed the blue
water to yex the red people a little yellow
15
American l\Iyths and Legends
moon used to float through the hcavens in the
wake of the bigger one that is still shining. l\Iel-
gasoway, a boy who was like other boys in that
he would rather practise with his bow and arrows
and worry the dogs and go fishing and swim-
ming and kill snakes and climb trees and tear
his breech-clout and pick berries than gather
firewood and do errands, was sent by his mother
to fetch a pumpkin out of a cornfield, for sup-
per. No doubt l\Ielgasoway intended to gather
the fruit and dutifully return with it; but he
saw a rabbit, and he chased it so long that when
the sun set he found himself miles from home
and pretty tired and hungry. The big moon
set soon after the sun, so that the boy would not
have been back until morning had it not been for
the little moon's light. As this orb lifted into
view he stood still and laughed aloud; for, secn
through interlacing branches, it was WOnrh01l5
like a pumpkin. l\Ielgasoway did not dare to go

back without what he had been sent for, but the
cornfield was a mile or so out of his way, his
mother was old and near-sighted, and this moon
might pass for a pumpkin if only he could bring
it down. As it camc swinging above him he
]0
drew his arrow to the head and shot. The shaft
passed out of his sight and he thought he had
missed his mark; but after a little the moon
began to quiver, then it pitched out of the sky
and tumbled toward the earth. Now, it had
been supposed that this little moon was just
above the tree-tops and was no larger than a
pumpkin. Great was the astonishment of Mel-
gasoway when it gre,,,, and grew in his sight until
he saw that he would be crushed if he stayed
there any longer. And he didn't. He bounded
off to his spanking at home, yelling with dismay,
for while the falling mass was still at some dis-
tance from the earth he saw that hundreds of
devils were clinging to it; yellow devils with
long tails and claws. Melgasoway took his
whipping with positive enjoyment; for he ex-
pected worse, now that he had destroyed a moon
and released a company of imps into the woods.
Yet he told his people what he had done, and
they, who had met the devils already in the
neighborhood and had discovered the moon
stuck in the swamp, with its light out, praised
him for his daring and made him medicine-man.
So Melgasoway lived to the end of his days in
1.-2 17
honor in sight of the hill he had brought down
from the sky. .
As for the Yankee version, that the hill was
put where it is by a wizard in order to accommo-
date the mowers at opposite ends of a hay-field
when they might need to sharpen their scythes,
and that it used to turn by means of a water-
wheel in the west branch; and the Irish version,
that the hill is the wheel of a barrow on which
a stout fellow was trundling a monument back
to the north pole where his ancestors had placed
it, but which had been brought down to Maine
on an iceberg-they may be dismissed as inven-
tions of a day of sensational journalism.
The French habitant, who comes down to chop
wood and goes back to Canada at the end of the
lumbering season, eagerly clutching all but four
or five of the American dollars he has earned,
knows Grindstone Hill and tells his version of
how it came there. His story slightly suggests
the Indians. It is that during the war which
ended French rule in Canada a number of
Frenchmen were marching across Maine to re-
enforce Montcalm's garrison in Quebec. It was
August, and the heat and thunder-storms were
IS
American .M yths and Legends
trying to the temper of the men. One after-
noon, when it was raining especially hard and
there was not one in the dripping, draggled
party who had not sworn all he knew how to
swear and wished that he was fluent in English
so that he could swear better, that being the
tongue in which past-masters of the art exploit
themselves, the captain, one Antoine LeBlanc,
roared out, with a compound oath in two lan-
guages that nearly loosened his molar's, that he
wished it would rain grindstones and harrow-
teeth and have done with it. Hardly had he
uttered this dreadful wish and coupled it with
an invocation to the Devil ere a dense shadow
fell upon the spot and a fearful rushing sound
was heard; then, plunging through the clouds,
came this father of all grindstones, and, tum-·
bling on the company, buried them two thousand
feet deep in mud-all but the man who sur-
vived to tell what happened, and this he would:
not have done but for being so frightened at the:
oaths that his legs were weak and he could not
keep up with his comrades.
19
A PROPHET OF WAR
NELL HILTON'S ghost will appear on

the big rock of Hilton's Neck, Jones-
boro, Maine, wave its hands, and give the Pas-
samaquoddy war-whoop at dawn on the 1st of
March of any year in which this country shall
engage in war. She foretold the French and
Indian troubles and the Revolution before her
death, and after it she prophesied our break with
England in 181~, with Mexico, and the Civil
War. Nell Hilton was a Puritan girl who, in
1740, wearying of the coldness and strictness of
life in Plymouth, prevailed on her father to move
to the Passamaquoddy country that they might
enjoy a little liberty. She proposed to have her
own share of it, anyhow, for her father, return-
ing to his cabin in Jonesboro on a certain even-
ing, found her in the embrace of a big Indian
and submitting with smiles to his kisses. After
killing and scalping this visitor he learned that
the girl had just engaged herself to him as his
future wife. In disgust Hilton told her that if
she was so fond of Indians she could go and live
with them; and she did.
20
American :M yths and Legends
The Puritans would sell no powder to the na-
tives, while the French in Canada would sell no
rum; hence the savages had to travel constantly,
selling their skins in the south for ammunition
with which to get more skins, and selling those
skins in the north for strong waters in which to
pickle their own skins from the inside. Nell's
services were in demand at the frontier as
bargain-maker and interpreter, for she spoke
French and Indian as well as English, and
taught in the rude schools of Maine and New
Brunswick. Though she never married, she
gained power over the natives, who regarded her
as a queen and invited her to all their councils.
In 1746, when the English drove the Acadians
from Nova Scotia, she foretold the war that was
to follow, and advised the Indians to remain true
to the French, who had exhibited more regard
for their physical if not their moral hankerings
than had been shown by the English. In 1775
she reappeared among her neighbors in Jones-
boro to urge them to prepare for war, outlining
the history of the Revolution from Lexington
skirmish to Yorktown surrender. Two years
later she was captured by Tories and carried to
III
St. J ohn for trial as a Yankee spy, and though
everyone who knew her testified to her charities
and virtues, she was declared guilty and hanged.
It was on the gallows that she promised to be
true to the American people and to revisit them
on her death-day anniversary whenever they
were to prepare for war. There, on her rock of
prophesy, the people always saw and heard her
when strife was imminent.
A SHOT IN THE MOONLIGHT
ON the Stroudwater road, leading out of

Portland, Maine, stood the Horse Tavern,
a mere watering-place in the woods, but a land-
mark, for it occupied the site of a cabin put up
there in 1740 by Joe Wyer, known more gen-
erally as The Scout. Wyer dressed in leather,
with a powder-horn and a knife slung from his
shoulder, and this hut was his lonely shelter
when he was not hunting Indians. In the sum-
mer of 1746 word reached him from Horse Beef
Falls, ten miles away, that his sister had been
killed by the savages and her daughter carried
into captivity. He was on the trail within the
minute. The girl had evidently been confident
of rescue, for she had struck her heel into the
earth occasionally, to leave a mark; had broken
off twigs and leaves, and on one rock where she
had rested had scattered some beads from a
bracelet that The Scout had given to her on a
birthday.
'Wyer's trained eye was quick to see and un-
derstand these tokens. He followed fast. Once,
as he slipped on a ledge, he caught a branch,
tearing its foliage. The noise was heard, for
presently an Indian came slinking back upon the
trail, peering cautiously about. Wyer dropped
behind a bush and held his breath. The Indian
listened long, then straightened and went back,
evidently believing that the sound had been made
by a deer, and unsuspecting longer that an
ayenger might be on his track. The Indian soon
overtook a comrade of his own race who had
been walking onward with the girl. She had
small reason to fear harm, for she guessed that
she would be sold to the French in Canada, and
to make the march a long and slow one she
was affecting lameness. 'Vhen the two savages
stopped at nightfall they bound her wrists and
23
American l\lyths and Legends
ankles but allowed her to sit beside their fire
while they prepared some venison and berries
for her supper. After smoking for awhile,
one of the Indians rolled himself in his blanket
and instantly went to sleep, leaving the other
to watch beside his prisoner.
Luckily a wind was stirring the forest, and
the slow steps of 'Vyer were not heard amid
the sway, creak, and crackle of the branches.
Waiting patiently in the shadows until the In-
dian had turned his head, he crept behind the
captive and cut her bonds. She was frontier
bred, and not a start or murmur of surprise be-
trayed her glad emotion. \Vyer approached
closer and in the faintest of whispers asked if
any other Indians were of the party. She shook
her head. The guard, who an instant before had
been seated stolidly on the earth with his eyes
seemingly fixed on vacancy, noticed the motion
and leaped up, knife in hand. Almost at the
instant \Vyer's rifle spoke and the man fell,
dead.
The sleeping Indian, wakened by the re-
port, sprang to his feet with senses all alert,
and, hoping to get the girl away from her
fl4
American :Myths and Legends
rescuers, he grasped her wrist and urged her
into the darkness. She broke and ran.
" Double on him," cried 'Vyer, who was has-
tily reloading his gun. And she did ~o. In a
little break where the moonlight came down he
could see the two running toward him, exactly
aligned. Evidently the Indian had now given up
the thought of saving the girl alive, and was bent
upon her death and that of her friend. The
Scout could not fire without imperilling the girl,
though the savage was gaining on her and had
pulled out his axe. The risk must be taken,
though it might be death in either case. The
Indian was a head taller than his captive, but
both were in quick motion, and it was dark and
confused under the trees. Groaning a prayer,
Wyer threw the piece to his shoulder. He saw
the axe lift and glint in the moon. Another re-
port. A lock of hair flew up--cut from his
niece's head by the bullet that pierced through
the Indian's brain. The girl was saved. As
they set off on the homeward way they heard
wolves quarrelling over the corpses.
25
THE RESCUE OF MOLLY FINNEY
IN 1756 Thomas Mains had cleared some acres

in what is now Freeport, Maine, and had put
up a comfortable log house; but he was not to
enj oy his possession long. The Indians came
to the place in the night, slew him and one of his
children, wotmded his wife, and carried into
captivity his sister-in-law, the pretty, pert, and
lively Molly Finney. One of the red raiders
had been shot, and on the six-weeks' march to
Quebec, where the band was to collect the
bounty offered by the French for English and
Yankee scalps and where they expected to sell
their captive, the girl was compelled to serve as
nurse to the wounded man. It is thought that
she put more salt and tobacco than emollients
into the dressings, for the patient would spring
from his couch with the most awful howls and
threaten her with beatings; but the others al-
ways interfered, for they were forced to admire
her pluck and pride, albeit they told her that if
the inj ured one died on the journey they would
surely make an end of her at the same time.
On reaching Quebec she was sold to a man
96
named Lemoine, who treated her fairly, except
that he gave her no more liberty than she needed
for the sweeping of dust from the walks, under
his eye-and into it, when she could. She was
a good cook and manager, hence she presently
reached a place in the kitchen, and was there
seen by one Master BeauYais, a soft-hearted,
none too stout-headed neighbor, who found fre-
quent reason for calls on the Lemoines, and who
presently began open court to the red-cheeked
wench.
Old Lemoine did not like this. An elderly
wife of acid temper had suspected him of pinch-
ing the cheek of their house-maid; but, be that
as it might, the old fellow had paid hard cash
for Molly, and the servant question was as much
of a problem then as it has often been since.
Re was not going to let his prize escape; and
biding the time when she might be trusted
abroad on errands, he kept close watch upon her
and locked her into her room every night. This
precaution was to her ultimate advantage. One
morning she answered a knock at the front door
and was confronted by a young, well-appearing
Yankee sea-captain whose ship had recently
come to port for trading; for hostilities were
over and the colonists were eager to make money
again. Before she could ask his errand-a com-
monplace one made up for the occasion-he had
thrust a note into her hand with a sign of cau-
tion. This paper she read in her room.It told
her that friends in Maine had commissioned the
bearer to smuggle her away from Quebec as
quickly and secretly as possible. He had
learned, through diplomatic inquiry, where she
was, and how closely guarded, so he would await
her reply at seven o'clock next morning. At
that hour she was industriously sweeping the
walk, and one of the things that was swept
almost into the hands of Captain McLellan as
he strolled past was a folded letter, which that
worthy read as soon as he had rounded the cor-
ner; for old Lemoine was glaring upon them
both from the doorway. It revealed the plan of
the house, showed the position of Molly's room,
and appointed eleven o'clock that night as the
time for the escape. Prompt at the hour the
sailor was under her window. He tossed a rope
to her, which she made fast to her bed and de-
scended into his arms. In a quarter of an hour
B8
the two were aboard the "Hepzibah Strong,"
which was off for her home port, Falmouth, at
daybreak. And after the journey, of course
they were married.
When Daddy Lemoine unlocked l'IIolly's door
in the morning he knocked and called, but there
was no response. He entered. Gone! Ha! a
note! What was that? "Woman's will is the
Lord's will. Good-day, 1\1. Lemoine." A rope,
too, the minx! An elopement: that's what it
was. That sneaking scamp Beauvais, with his
soft voice and smooth ways! Lemoine seized his
cane,-and a good, stout timber it was. He went
around to neighbor Beauvais, and before that
worthy could offer any protest or explanation
he had given him a dreadful basting.
DEAD MAN'S LEDGE
D EAD MAN'S LEDGE, near Gull's Head,

on the Maine coast, has borne that name
since the finding of a body there-the body of a
man clinging to the kelp and swinging gro-
tesquely in the surges. His ship had been
pounded to splinters the night before. People
29
on the Head have claimed that they could hear
the man wailing whenever a storm was coming
up. Reeking little of this superstition, old
John Brown and his wife Bess set up a ship-
shape cabin near the ledge and eked out a living
by gardening, jobbing, fishing, and gathering
stores and timber such as washed in along the
shore. A sturdy soul was Brown, and although
they called him a wrecker, he never in his life
had shown a false beacon or kept property
claimed by any other. Solace of his age was his
foster-daughter, Nell, a precious bit of flotsam
that in her infancy had come to land from a
stranded bark, while a fourth inmate of the
place-that is, for several years-was Antonio,
a strong, quiet, dark-faced Spaniard who some-
times helped Brown in his work on the boats but
was allowed to ramble much as he chose, often
wandering alone for hours together on the rocks,
muttering to himself, his eyes, that could gleam
lovingly, flashing in a dangerous fashion. For
another had come to the crowded little house:
a young Southerner, Edward Irving, whom old
Brown had rescued off shore from a capsized
yacht. Irving was a student, a fellow of taste,
30
manner, and reading, and Antonio saw with mis-
giving the dawn of an interest on Nell's part in
this visitor who had so much to tell her of the
life of the field and the sea that she had never
known, and to whose interpretations she owed a
new love for the grandeur and beauty of nature.
Antonio shadowed them in their walks, and his
way of moodiness and silence increased upon
him. One evening he proposed that Irving
should go with him to a rock beyond Dead Man's
Ledge, where some curious purple shells were
to be found, and with a promise to return pres-
ently the two sailed off together. The ledge was
but three feet out of water, and the tide was
corning in-the tide that in a few hours would
bury the rock under two fathoms of sea. Know-
ing that the time was short, Irving bent so ear-
nestly to the search that he had no eyes for any-
thing else; he did not see Antonio wander in
pretended aimlessness back to the boat; he did
not see his black scowl as he clambered in and
cast off. The rattle of the sail as it was hauled
into place aroused him. The incoming waves
were wetting his feet. Antonio uttered a gibing
laugh as he caught his eye, and, throwing down
31
the helm, swung about and danced off on a
freshening wind. Irving called to him to stop
his pranks and take him aboard. The Spaniard
showed his teeth in a tigerish snarl, shouted a
curse at him, and bade him die as a dog; then
turning his back he let out the sail and cut away.
Irving was for a time unable to believe that
Antonio was not joking; but as the boat receded
in the twilight and the water rose about him it
came upon him that he had been abandoned there
to certain death. Antonio, then, was his enemy.
Why? The girl! Heaven! Why had he been
so blind? The vast and whitening waters now
lapped to his knees. The moon was rising. Its
light was the last he should ever look upon. He
realized the hopelessness of his situation. His
last breath he would give to prayer, to begging
pardon for his sins and blessings on the girl who
had smiled happiness into his heart so short a
time before. \Vith the utterance of her name a
new life seemed to enter him. He called,
" Nell!" Then despite his distress he half
smiled at his folly. He was miles beyond her
hearing. But what was that-that black thing,
going by in the moon track? A boat? No. A
39
American :L\1yths and Legends
shark? Possibly; yet it floated too lightly to be
aliye. It was a floating spar. If only he could
reach it} he might be saved. Death was certain
if he stayed. He would chance his strength
against wind and tide. Throwing off his shoes
and jacket he plunged into the waves} and after
an exhausting struggle he reached the timber}
threw himself upon it at full length} and prayed
more earnestly than before.
How long he drifted he could not tell. It
seemed days. As he lay clinging to the piece of
wreckage a far} faint halloo came to his ears.
He replied with a shout. The call was repeated
from time to time} a little louder at each repe-
tition} and each time answered. At last a rush-
ing sound was heard and a boat came flying up.
"Luff} there} Nell. Steady. Here he is. God's
name} lad} how came ye in this fix? Gi' a hand.
Easy, now. There ye are. 'Yhere's 'Tonio?
'Vhere's the boat? Nell} ye see you couldn't
have heard Mister Edward call your name} but
you were right in guessing he was in danger.
'Yom en are mostly-well} I don't mind your
kissing him} considering. Don't cry. He's only
chilled a bit. We'll have him before the fire in
1.-3 33
American lVlyths and Legends
half an hour, and this old sail will cover him
meantime. But the boat!"
The old man's rage and astonishment were
boundless when he learned of Antonio's treach-
ery; but he and his household buried their ani-
mosity next day, when some neighbors came to
report that they had found a body on Dead
Man's Ledge. It was Antonio, drowned.
:MAINE'S WOODLAND TERRORS
IT is feared that some of the creatures which

infest the woods of Aroostook, Piscataquis,
and Penobscot counties, especially in the lumber-
ing season, have had their mischievous qualities
magnified in local myths for the silencing of
fretful children and the stimulation of generos-
ity on the part of green choppers. It is the new-
comer in a lumber-camp who is expected to sup-
ply the occasional quart of whiskey that shall
pacify Razor-shins, and to do a little more than
his share of the breakfast-getting, errand-run-
ning, and so on, in order to quiet the hostility of
the will-am-alones. Like the duppies and rolling
calves of the vVest Indies, these creatures are
34
not seen as often as they were, for they have a
fixed hostility to schools, never venturing within
ten miles of one.
The will-am-alone is a quick little animal, like
a squirrel, that rolls in its fingers poison-lichens
into balls and drops them into the ears and on
the eyelids of sleeping men in camp, causing
them to have strange dreams and headaches and
to see unusual obj ects in the snow. It is the
hardest drinkers in the camp who are said to
be most easily and most often affected by the
poison. The liquor in prohibition States is
always plentiful and bad, and in combination
with the pellets of the will-am-alones is nearly
fatal.
More odd than this animal is the side-hill
winder, a rabbit-like creature so called because
he winds about steep hills in only one direction;
and in order that his back may be kept level, the
down-hill legs are longer than the up-hill pair.
He is seldom caught; but the way to kill him is
to head him off with dogs when he is corkscrew-
ing up a mountain. As the winder turns, his
long legs come on the up-hill side and tip him
over, an easy prey. His fat is a cure for dis-
3S
American l\1:yths and Legends
eases caused by the will-am-alone, but to eat his
flesh is to die a hard and sudden death. .
Much to be dreaded is the ding-ball, a panther
whose last tail-joint is ball shaped and bare of
flesh. With this weapon it cracks its victim's
skull. There is no record of a survival from the
blow of a ding-ball. In older traditions it sang
with a human voice, thus luring the incautious
from their cabins to have their sconces broken in
the dark. It is fond of human flesh, and will
sing all night for a meal of Indians.
An unpleasant person is Razor-shins, a death··
less red man who works for such as are kind to
him, but mutilates that larger number of the
ignorant who neglect to pay tribute. Keep
Razor-shins supplied with fire-water,-a jug at
every full moon,-and he will now and then fell
a tree for you with his sharp shin-bones, if
nobody is around, or will clear up a bit of road.
But fail in this, and you must be prepared to
give up your scalp, which he can slice from your
head with a single kick, or he will clip off your
ears and leave cuts on you that will look like
sabre-strokes. "Vhen a green hand arrives in a
lumber-camp it is his duty to slake the thirst of
36
Razor-shins. He puts a jug of virulent Bangor
whiskey at the door. The best proof that the
Indian gets it is shown in the odor of breathed
alcohol that pervades the premises all night
and the emptiness of the jug in the morning.
Where French Canucks are employed at chop-
ping, you must look to see them all quit work if
a white owl flies from any tree they are felling;
and they must not look back nor speak to it, for
it is a ghost and will trouble them unless they
leave that part of the wood for fully thirty days.
But worst of all is the windigo, that ranges
from Labrador to Moosehead Lake, preferring
the least populous and thickest wooded districts.
A Canadian Indian known as Sole-o'-your-foot
is the only man who ever saw one and lived-for
merely to look upon the windigo is doom, and to
cross his track is deadly peril. There is no need
to cross the track, for it is plain enough. His
footprints are twenty-four inches long, and in
the middle of each impress is a red spot, showing
where his blood has oozed through a hole in his
moccasin; for the windigo, dark and huge and
shadowy as he seems, has yet a human shape and
many human attributes. The belief in this mon-
37
American J\1:yths and Legends
ster is so genuine that lumbermen have secured
a monopoly of certain jobs by scaring competi-
tors out of the neighborhood through the simple
device of tramping past their camp in fur-
covered snow-shoes and squeezing a drop of beef
blood or paint into each footprint. There was
at one time a general flight of Indian choppers
from a lumber district in Canada, and nothing
could persuade them to return to work; for the
track of the windigo had been seen. I twas
found that this particular windigo was an Irish-
man who wanted that territory for himself and
his friends; but the Indians would not be con-
vinced. They kept away for the rest of the sea-
son. The stealthy stride of the monster makes
every lumberman's blood run as cold as the An-
droscoggin under its ice roof, and its voice is
like the moaning of the pines.
On the slopes of Mount Katahdin lives Po-
moola, the Indian devil, a being that has the
shape of a panther but is larger and wears four
tusks that hang out of his mouth for twelve or
fourteen inches. He will eat animals and In-
dians, but is so terrified by white men that no
scientist has been able to get within telescoping
38
range of him. Bullets avail nothing against him,
and knives are as mosquito-stings. Only one
thing can kill him: a stroke of lightning. In the
old days Pomoola made a yearly levy on the
Indians, selecting half a dozen of the most juicy,
but since they had doings with sportsmen the
Indians have become so flavored with rum that
Pamoola can stomach only the maidens. In 18Z3
the devil killed four members of a hunting party
on Jo Mary Lake, three more next day at South
Twin Lake, and had nearly overtaken the sur-
vivors at ::\filinickert Rips, near Elbow Lake,
when a thunderbolt fell down a birch-tree on
which he was sharpening his claws and stretched
him dead. The Indians say that he was twice
as long as a four-man canoe. The body was
floated to Old Town on two boats, and the people
of that sober burg, the capital of the Indian res-
ervation, celebrated the death with candles and
fire-water. One of the tusks, blackened by the
lightning, is treasured in the family of old Chief
Sockalexis. Geologists have seen it and say it
came out of the head of the sabre-toothed tiger
that lived in the Maine woods se\"eral millions
of years ago. As the scientists did not live in
39
Maine in 18~S, how are they to know that the
tiger did not hold over until that date?
THE GREAT STONE FACE
A FTER the venerable Passaconaway had

.n. been translated to heaven on his :fire-car
the chieftaincy of the Pennacooks fell to his son,
Wonalanset. His rule for some years was
happy, his people trusted him, and he found a
helpful wife in Mineola, daughter of Chocorua;
but trouble came in time, as it does to all nations
and all peoples. Rimmon, the sister of Mineola,
loved Wonalanset, secretly, and loved him to
sickness. Finding that the chief was content in
his family relations and unconscious of her long-
ing, she flung herself from a steep at the west of
Amoskeag Falls. The fortune of the tribe began
to change. vVonalanset never knew the reason
for the suicide.
The Pennacooks had lived in a peace their
watchful enemies said was weakness, and their
chief became a praying Indian. It was about
this time that young Konassaden, of the nlo-
hawks, raking up some ancient and forgotten
40
injuries, roused his people to remember-and
revenge. Passaconaway, who had commanded
the spirits, was no longer to be feared, and
with five hundred men to wage war the Penna-
cooks might be exterminated. So Konassaden
picked his best and bravest and left his home
in the Adirondacks for the loftier Agiochooks.
He reached the principal camp of \Vonalanset's
people while only the women, children, and aged
were there, the hunters having departed on an
expedition in search of fish and game, and when
the hunters returned to what had been their
homes they found only wreck, with the gory
corpses of their fathers lying among the ashes.
No time was lost in the pursuit of the marauders,
whose trail was still fresh, for their women and
children were to be recovered, other villages
were to be warned, and as many as possible
of the foe were to be killed.
The captives were overtaken and sent back,
but the slippery Mohawks fled and were lost
among the giant hills-the ghostly and forbidden
mountains of Franconia. It is said that in the
last hours of their march they were led by a
tall, dark man,-a tireless man with legs of oak,
41
American IVlyths and Legends
- who kept so far ahead that they could not be
sure it was Konassaden; yet nobody had seen
Konassaden fall out. On through tangled woods
they went, heavy with sleep, empty of food, un-
speakably weary, some of them sore with wounds
received in the fight. On, over ledges slippery
with moss. On, over and under windfalls. Then
they came to a lighter growth, then to broken
masses of granite, and the domes of the Agio-
chooks were against the stars before them. De-
scending into a valley, stumbling with exhaus-
tion, they found water and drank; then,
stretched carelessly on the grass, they fell
asleep.
In the morning they rose, wearily,-for they
must go far ere they could be safe from the axes
of the Pennacooks,-and looked for their leader.
An exclamation of astonishment and awe caused
every eye to turn aloft. From the crest of a
mighty cliff smitten with the red light of dawn
and wreathed in cloud looked forth a great and
solemn face of stone. "It is the Great Spirit!"
cried the Indians, and falling to the earth they
buried their faces in their hands. When they
looked again the morning glow had faded and
49
the face was dark and stern. A blaze of light
filled the valley for an instant, and a voice spoke
in thunder tones: "You have warred needlessly
on your brothers. You have invaded the hills
which are the home of Manitou. You have neg-
lected your wives and children to shed human
blood. I am angered at your cruelty. There-
fore, die. But you shall be a warning in your
deaths. You shall be turned to rocks on this
mountain-side. "
Then it seemed as if all the forest broke into
a dirge, and the Mohawks sank to the earth
again and slept-slept never again to wake.
And their bodies strew the slope at the foot of
the stone manitou's throne.
THE STREAM-SPIRIT'S WIFE
AN Indian living in the vast amphitheatre of

Tuckerman's Ravine, on the side of
Mount 'Washington, had a daughter famed for
amiability and beauty, and long before she had
reached maturity the suitors for her hand had
included nearly every young man whose lodge
w;!~ within sight of the central peak of the Agio-
43
chooks. Yet, considering her charms and good-
ness, none of these seemed worthy to call her
wife. Returning from the hunt one evening the
father found his wigwam empty. This did not
surprise him, as he knew that his squaw had gone
into the glen to gather raspberries, and he sup-
posed that his daughter was with her; but when
the woman returned at nightfall she came alone.
No spicy smoke or savor of roasting bear-meat
or of boiling succotash foretokened the cheer and
sufficiency of home. The husband and father sat
upon a ledge, looking stolidly up at the rocky
walls of the ravine deepening in shadow. Seeing
that the girl was with neither, both parents
began to suffer anxiety on her account. Had she
lost her way in the wood? Had she fallen from
some of the cliffs? Had she slipped into some
of the ponds or streams, and, striking on a rock,
been stunned and drowned? They called loudly,
but there was no answer save in the faint, far
echo of their own voices. They sought persist-
ently while light remained, forcing their way
through thickets and over rocks and fallen trees,
but without avail. Next day they resumed the
search, and the next, but to no purpose, for the
44
American :l \Iyths and Legends
girl did not appear. Bitter, then, was their
grief, for they now believed that she had fallen
from a height or had been dispatched by a bear
or panther, and she was given up as lost.
Some hunters came in after a time with joyful
news: the girl had been seen at the edge of the
pool below Glen Ellis Falls, smiling into the
stream born from summer-lasting snows, and
clasped in the arms of a tall man with a shining
face, whose hair fell to his waist. The two dis-
appeared when they found the eyes of the hunt-
ers upon them, even as the spray of the torrent
vanished in the wind; but the parents' hearts
were eased, for they knew that their daughter
had become the wife of a god of the mountain.
And though they never saw her again, the mani-
tou blessed them for her sake, these mountain
spirits being nearly always kind. The old couple
had only to go to the pool and call for a deer,
moose, or bear, when the animal would bound
from the shrubbery into the water and swim
against their spear-points.
45
STONE WOMAN OF SQUAM
S QUAM LAKE, in the White Mountains,

is really Wonneasquamauke, meaning,
"beautifully surrounded place of water;" but
with a willingness to avoid work that is charac-
teristic of some of us in this day, the name has
been reduced to a syllable. One of the bays on
this lovely sheet has for years been known as
Squaw Cove, because of a block of granite on
its shore that resembled a woman. This block
having a history and interest was destroyed by
white men years ago. Here lived Waunega, a
withered crank who in his age desired a young
and pretty wife. Yes, Suneta would do as well
as any. He had known her father for more
than seventy years; he had two ponies to swap
f or her; she was a pretty good cook and leather
dresser; therefore, Suneta it should be. He pro-
posed, to her father, and was by the latter ac-
cepted as a son-in-law, albeit red human nature
is like other kinds, and pretty girls do not marry
fusty codgers except when money or titles are
thrown in. This girl had no love for Waunega;
she had long ago changed hearts with Anonis;
46
but this exchange of affection not being a needed
prelude to marriage in the Indian country, she
was told off to wed the rickety groom. There
was a great feast on the day that should have
been happy,-a feast that Anonis failed to grace
by his really graceful presence,-and old Wau-
nega so gorged himself with corn and deer-meat
that he could keep awake only long enough to
reach his wigwam, where he dropped on his pile
of furs and went sound asleep. A squall was
rising, so he did not hear the lifting of his tent-
flap nor see the dusky face that was peering in.
Suneta sat apart, motionless, silent. Anonis en-
tered and bent over her.
" Come," he whispered. "~fy canoe is wait-
ing. I cannot live without you. If I go from
here alone I shall never see the sun again."
" My heart has always been yours," she an-
swered. "I hate this man to whom they have
given me. But, hark! The storm! The Great
Spirit is angry. I dare not go."
"I dare all. Trust me, and I will protect
you." Seizing her in his arms, he carried her
through the door and down the path. Either the
fall of the door-flap or a gust of coming tempest
47
American IVryths and Legends
awakened the husband, and looking about him
in the gathering dusk he found that he was de-
serted. With a fear of something amiss he
caught up his bow and arrows and looked out.
Two figures were entering a canoe. A lightning
flash revealed them. Fitting an arrow to the
string, he shot. Anonis uttered a cry and pitched
headlong to the bottom of the lake, overturning
the canoe, so that Suneta was fain to scramble
for the shore, where she stood dumbly wringing·
her hands and peering with great eyes into the
water. The husband made no step to recover his
bride. He looked up and raised his lean arms to
the whirling clouds. "Great Spirit," he prayed,
" the other I leave to you; but this faithless one:
make an example of her to all her sex. Strike
her with your fire arrows."
A flash sent him tottering back, and a roar so
filled the glens that his heart stood still. Re-
penting his anger he staggered toward the lake,
calling on Suneta, but she did not answer. He
stumbled and fell heavily on his head. When
he awoke, with many pains, the sun shone, and
near where he had killed Anonis stood Squaw
Rock, a monument.
48
American l\Iyths . and Legends
THE CONFESSION OF HANSERD

KNOLLYS
IT is not generally known that Hawthorne's

romance, "The Scarlet Letter," had at
least an alleged foundation-the charge, namely,
against the Re,'erend Hanserd Knollys, M.A.,
first pastor of a church in Dover, New Hamp-
shire, a man of learning, " a good man" in Cot-
ton .:\Iather's reckoning. He was a native of
Lincolnshire in old England, where he died at
ninety-three, and he came to New England to
escape persecution, for he had embraced Puri-
tanism and was obliged to endure the usual con-
sequences. 'Vhen the law put its grip on him for
the holding of mischievous doctrine he had the
rare fortune to fall into the hands of a sympa-
thetic constable who, seeing no more evil in one
religion than another, allowed Knollys to escape.
Tweh'e weeks it took him to reach America, and
six brass farthings were his only wealth when
he went ashore. This man was born for trouble.
Hardly was he secure in the stronghold of Puri-
tanism ere the spirit again moved him, this time
to become a Baptist; so he was as vigorously
1.-4 49
cast out and as rigorously kept out as if he had
been a Papist. In those days it was no slight
matter to differ with the clergy, and for one to
cast contempt on them was to incur a fine of
twenty shillings and "set in ye stocks, not ex-
ceeding four hours; but if he go on to trans-
gress in ye same kind, then to be amerced 40
s., or to be whiped for every such trancegres-
sion." He may have been neither amerced
nor "whiped," but he was driven away from
Boston.
Still a safe harbor offered in Dover, and there
for several years he preached the gospel accord-
ing to his lights and lived in seeming peace.
Alack! It befell that his deeper troubles only
began with his removal. His look and carriage,
at first so full of strength, lost quality. His
aspect grew haggard and furtive. He shrank
in body, his eye was clouded, his brow bent or
lifted at an angle, as in pain. He walked the
street gazing abstractedly on the earth. The
greetings of his people made him start and cry
out. His dress was uncared for. His wife kept
her home and was often in tears. Rumors of
witchcraft were abroad. Surely the pastor was
50
a victim. Would it end in death? No; it ended
in confession and deliverance.
That day was long remembered when Mr.
Knollys from his pulpit humbled himself and
asked forgiveness of his people and his God.
N ever again would he preach from the Sacred
Book; never again would he stand at that desk,
their minister; never again would he meet his
fellow-citizens as friends. A figure bowed
almost to the floor in the parson's pew: his
wife.
" And now," said Knollys, " I leave you; I,
unworthy, self-despised." He tore apart the ser-
mon he had preached. It fell fluttering to the
floor. He closed the great Bible and reverently
kissed its cover. "I cast myself on the pity
of Our Father. Comfort and aid my wife and
children. Have mercy on the maids I have
dishonored. "
He looked over the assemblage. Every head
was bent. Slowly, with white, drawn face and
uncertain step, he passed down the aisle into the
soft, white Sabbath sunshine. N ext day two
girls whose cheeks had been fresh were seen
with scarlet letters broidered on their gar-
51
ments: the "AD" that spelled to every colonist
"Adulteress."
PEABODY'S LEAP
pEABODY'S LEAP, a cliff thirty feet high

on the Vermont side of Lake Champlain,
perpetuates the fame of Timothy Peabody, who
settled thereabout when there were no other
white residents within fifty miles. His family
had been killed by the Indians, and it was in
order to retaliate on the red men that he chose
this solitary place for his abode. Whenever hc
had news of the movement of any company of
natives within striking distance he was waiting
somewhere on their line of march, and they had
generally left two or three dead hehind them
bef.ore they reached their destination. Several
times they tried to burn his hut, but were always
interrupted by a succession of shots from some
unlikely hollow or tree-top, and in time they
came to have a superstitious fear of him and
were greatly willing not to meet him.
His leap was made in escaping from a party
that had passed his neighborhood with thrce
52
American _M yths and Legends
white prisoners. An Indian who had gone aside
from the advance guard to look for game saw
the well-known cap of the hunter-a long cap
of fox skin-cautiously proj ecting itself from
behind a tree; whereupon he fired. Peabody,
who had hung his cap on the end of his rifle
in order to draw the bullet of the Indian,
coolly stepped from his cover and shot his foe-
man dead. Knowing that two shots in quick suc-
cession were likely to bring the band upon him,
Peabody rapidly stripped the corpse of hunting-
shirt, moccasins, belt, wampum, and knife, which
he put upon himself, daubed his brow, chin, and
cheeks with the warm blood of his victim,-in
lieu of paint,-and so disguised that any stray
Indian might not fire at him he pushed along
the trail and reached the camp at nightfall.
Without disclosing himself he contrived to gain
possession of the guns of the party long enough
to withdraw the charges, wriggled to the shore,
cut one or two of their canoes adrift, silently
entered the water, and in a whisper warned the
three prisoners-who were tied and lying in a
boat for safe keeping-to make no noise and
not to try to sit upright. He then swam back
53
American l\1yths and Legends
to shore, where he had left his rifle,-" Old
Plumper," he called it,-but was seen by a
guard, and the whole company made for him.
He shot one, gave to another a dreadful clump
on the head with gun-butt, then, leaping from
the precipice into deep water, he swam to
the prisoners' canoe and with vigorous strokes
pushed it into the darkness. He made a small
circuit and landed the captives in safety while
the Indians were shouting in rage over their lost
canoes and harmless guns.
A TRAVELLED NARRATIVE
THERE is one narrative, formerly common

in school-readers, in collections of moral
tales for youth, and in the miscellany columns
of ,newspapers, that is thought to have been a
favorite with Aristophanes and to have beguiled
the Pharaohs when they had the blues-sup-
posing blues to have been invented in their time.
Every now and again it reappears in the peri-
odicals and enjoys a new vogue for a couple of
months. Many villages clamor for recognition
as the scene of the incident, but as Rutland,
54
American ~iyths and Legends
Vermont, makes a spccial appeal, it may as
well have happened there as anywhere.
So let it be in Rutland that the cross-roads
store-keeper dwelt who was burdened by the
usual loungers that sat about his shop, talked
politics, squirted tobacco-juice on his stove, and,
merely to beguile the time, nibbled at his dried
fish, cheese, crackers, maple sugar, and spruce
gum, consuming in the course of a year a long
hundredweight of these commodities. These
pickings were made openly and were not looked
upon as thefts any more than are the little pieces
of cloth that are taken home as samples by
women who go shopping. Groceries that were
not nailed up-or down-were a sort of bait to
gather purchasers. The store-keeper did not
mind these abstractions, because he added a
penny to a bill now and then, and so kept even.
What he did object to was the sneaking away of
dearer commodities, like white sugar, drugs, to-
bacco, ammunition, ribbons, boots, scented soap,
and catechisms.
On a sharp night in December the usual
worthies sat about the stove, telling one an-
other how many different kinds of a great man
55
Andrew Jackson was and what was the best way
to cure mange in dogs. The air of the shop was
close arid hot, but those who breathed it believed
it pleasanter than the crisp cold outside. Fresh
and wholesome air is never so little prized as
where there is most of it. The proprietor, who
occupied a rickety arm-chair and was throwing
in his wisdom to make the aggregate impressive,
kept his eye roving over his stock, and presently
he noticed that Ichabod Thompson, a shiftless,
out-at-elbows fellow, was nibbling more freely
from the cracker-barrel than it was "genteel"
to do. He pretended ignorance of this, and in a
little time he saw Ichabod slip a pat of butter
out of a firkin where each pound lay neatly
wrapped in cloth, take off his hat in a pretence
of wiping his forehead, drop the butter into the
hat, and put it on again. Ichabod then loitered
ostentatiously before the harness and blanket de-
partments, made a casual inquiry as to current
rates for Dr. Pilgarlic's Providential Pills, went
to the stove, spreading his hands for a moment
of warmth, then, turning up his collar, said he
guessed he must be going.
"Oh, don't go yet," said the shop-keeper,
56
American .l \Iyths and Legends
kindly. "Sit down a minute while I tell you
what happened to Hank Buffum's big sow last
week."
X ot wishing to come under suspicion by ex-
hibiting anxiety to reach home,-the place to
which he neyer went until all the other places
were closed,-Ichabod accepted a seat in the
circle. The shop-keeper spun his yarn to a tenu-
ous length. He piled wood into the stove, too,
until the iron sides of it glowed cherry-red; the
heat became furious, a glistening yellow streak
appeared on the suspect's forehead. He wiped
it away with his handkerchief. He did not
seem at ease. In a few minutes he yawned,
laboriously, remarked that he had been up late
the night before, and that he must be going
home.
"All right," consented the merchant; "but
just wait a few minutes till I put up a few
ginger-snaps for your missus-some I just got
from Boston."
Naturally an offer like that could not be re-
fused. It took an unconscionable time to put
up a dozen little cakes, and Ichabod was now
sweating butter in good earnest. He accepted
57
the gift thankfully, yet with a certain preoccu-
pation, and as he bent over to tuck his trousers
into his boots he showed his hair soaking with
grease, his collar limp with it, streaks and spat-
ters down his coat, and spots appearing in his
hat. The store-keeper winked at the members of
his congress, pointed significantly to the butter-
tub, then to Ichabod's hat, then laid his finger
on his lips. The loungers caught the idea, and
when their victim was again ready to start they
remembered errands and business for him that
kept him for several minutes longer in their com-
pany. The butter was now coming down in
drops and rills, and the poor scamp was at one
moment red with heat and confusion then pale
with fear, because thieves fared hardly in that
town. On one pretext and another he was de-
tained till the butter was all melted and his
clothes, partial ruins before, were wholly spoiled.
He arose with decision at last and said he could
not stay another minute. "Well," said the shop-
keeper, "we can let you go now. We've had fun
enough out of you to pay for the butter you
stole. You'll be needing new clothes to-morrow.
Give us a call. Good-night."
58
THE ESCAPED NUN
A. LL trace of it is gone now: the convent

rl... that was burned in 1834; the hill it
stood upon, the garden, the orchard, the high
walls; and it is better so. With its disappear-
ance has vanished the token of an act never to
be repeated on American soil. For fifty years
the ruins of an Ursuline nunnery topped the
deserted :Mount Benedict, in Somerville, Massa-
chusetts. A rifle-shot away arose the shaft that
commemorates our first great battle for political
liberty-the monument on Bunker Hill: strange
contrast to the shattered masonry that recorded
a seeming attack on religious freedom. It is
well to weigh the case before blaming too se-
verely; and, because prejudice has so clouded it
that the truth will never be known, this story of
the convent has already become a tradition rather
than a history.
Puritan Boston was disturbed when a Roman-
ist convent was built within her precincts in
1820. The great irruption of Celts and Latins
had not then begun. Americans were of English
stock and were a people united in belief, the
59
descendants of the Cavaliers in the South form-
ing so small a Catholic population that it made
no show worth mentioning in figures. Popular
dislike had something to do with the convent's
removal, a few years later, to an isolated hill-
top overlooking the marshes of the Mystic,
though it could not have been dreamed that such
a measure had been compelled by any sense of
insecurity. It was strange and foreign, this
house of the black-robed. The inmates had all
been sent from Europe-women apt in the
teaching of accomplishments which passed for
an education in that day: the harp, the piano,
singing, drawing, wax flowers, embroidery, eti-
quette, and French. \Vomen who could read
Latin and had gone through Euclid were
frowned upon as blue-stockings.
Yet the benign purposes of the nuns were so
misunderstood and misconstrued that a select-
man of the town told the Mother Superior that
he wanted to tear the place about her ears.
Echoes of medireval history sounded in the
streets and were alleged to come from the lonely
building on the hill. There were tales of hor-
rible punishments; of nuns walled up alive for
60
"'
disobedience; of tunnels and dun geons deep
under the earth; a nd it was common belief that
the priests and nuns were proselyting among
the Protestant girls who had been committed to
their care. There was no active hostility until
Sister Mary John, who had been }Iiss Eliza-
beth Harrison, of Philadelphia, " escaped" from
the convent and sought shelter in Cambridge. ,
She was greatly agitated and said that one of
the priests had made violent love to her and
pursued her out of the grounds. Public indig-
nation mounted to fever-heat when this was
rumored, and it approached the danger-point
when a second report was broadcast that the nun
had been "captured" and taken back to the
convent.
Here we come to the parting of the ways, for
there were men of position who averred that the
evidence against the priest was absolute, and
that the subsequent denial by the girl was forced
from her by threats, while Bishop Fenwick and
the Mother Superior declared that the girl had
been crazed by overwork in teaching in addition
to certain religious fasts and observances of an
exhausting nature. 'Vhen she was called to tes-
61
tify in a court of justice the sister said that she
had been out of her mind; then, suddenly avert-
ing her face from the gaze of those in the court-
room, she burst into tears. A few nights after
this episode a mob was heard coming down the
Medford road. Torches glimmered through the
dusk, and above the threatening shouts could be
heard the cry, "Down with the convent!" A
panic overcame the pupils, though the nuns pre-
served an outward calm and drew away with
the girls to places of safety. The throng broke
down the high fence, assaulted the gardener
who alone attempted to stay its entrance, in-
sulted the sisters in their flight, looted the main
building, smashed the windows, split up the
pianos, and at last applied the torch. Fire-
alarms were rung, but the crowd kept the en-
gines from playing on the building. No lives
were lost, but the convent was destroyed.
N ext day such of Boston as had not lost its
senses in that sad and savage foray, or had
recovered them, took measures to secure the ar-
rest of the offenders, several of whom were as
well known as the mayor; but they stood
together in a general defence, and the only one
69
to be punished was a scapegrace and scapegoat
of a boy, who was sent to prison for life. There
were mutterings of revenge for long after, but
no acth'e retaliation was attempted. The fences
were repaired, a keeper was put in charge, and
the blackened walls were preserved, apparently
as a reproach. Year after year, unfailingly, a
bill was presented by the Church to the State
for the damage worked by the mob. As regu-
larly it was overlooked, refused, or pigeon-holed
by the legislature. Hatreds were sown on that
night that in some quarters are traditionary
still.
THE LONG SLEEP
M OUNT MIANOMO, or Rag Rock, in

eastern Massachusetts, was one of the
dead monsters that had crawled down from the
north with ice and stones on its back to desolate
~he sun god's land. All of these creatures were
checked when they reached the hollows dug by
the sun god to stay their march-the hollows
that have become the pretty New England lakes
-and there the god pelted them to death with
heated spears. At the foot of this hill, three
63
centuries ago, lived many of the Aberginians-
progenitors, it is said, of the Aber-Nits, that
arose on the isle of Manhatta in after years.
Their chief was one Wabanowi, who thought
more of himself than all the rest of his people
did, who never learned anything, never made a
true prophecy, and passed into vulgar local his-
tory as Headman Stick-in-the-mud. This chief
had a daughter, Heart-stealer, and he made it
a duty to nag and to thwart her in every wish,
as befitted the Indian parent of romance. Fight-
ing Bear, chief of the N arragansetts, fell in
love with the girl, and after a speech of three
pages in which he likened himself to the sun,
the storm, the ocean, to all the strong animals
he could remember, and the girl to the deer,-
could it have been a dear ?-the singing bird,
the zephyr, the waves, and the flowers, he de-
scended to business and claimed her hand.
Every Indian, he said, had heard the prophecy
that a great race with sick faces, hair on its
teeth, thickly clad in summer, and speaking in
a harsh tongue, was coming to drive the red man
from the land of his fathers. By this marriage
the Aberginians and N arragansetts would be
6.J.
united, and two such families could destroy any-
body or anything.
The professional pride of Stick-in-the-mud
was touched. He sprang to his feet and cried:
"Who has foretold this? I didn't. There is
only one prophet in this district, and that's me.
lt isn't for green youngsters, N arragansetts at
that, to meddle with this second-sight business.
Understand? Moreover, my arm is so strong
it needs no help to exterminate an enemy. I
can beat him with my left hand tied behind me.
Had you merely asked for my daughter I would
haye given her up without a struggle. If some-
body doesn't take her soon I shall lose my rea-
son. But you haye added insult to oratory, and
if you don't go quick you'll neyer get there at
all. "
Thus speaking, Stick-in-the-mud once more
wrapped his furs around him so that only his
nose and his pipe were left outside, while Fight-
ing Bear folded his arms, scowled, observed
something to the effect that Ha, ha! a time
would come, and strode into the forest.
One eyening a smoke hung oyer Rag Rock
and shadowy figures flitted through it. A vague
1.-5 65
fear possessed the public. Stick-in-the-mud,
waking from a mince-pie dream in the middle of
the night, saw in his door, faint against the
sky, the shape of a woman who beckoned, and,
hoping to uncover some secret that would be more
useful to him in his fortune-telling matches than
his usual and lamentable guess-work, he arose
and followed her. The spirit moved lightly,
silently up Rag Rock and entered a cavern that
the chief had never seen before-a cavern glow-
ing with soft light and bedded with deep moss.
He sank upon this cushioned floor, at a gesture
from the spirit; then, with her arms waving
above him, he fell into a sleep. Next day, and
for several days, the citizens scoured the woods,
the hills, and every other thing except them-
selves, in the search for Stick-in-the-mud, but
they did not find him. Another man, who had
enjoyed singular misfortune in foretelling the
weather, was promoted to be seer; then when
the news reached Rhode Island-that was what
it was going to be ere long-Fighting Bear hur-
ried to the scene of his former interview and
again claimed Heart-stealer as his bride.
Nobody said a word, so he took her to his home.
66
Now came the men of sick and hairy faces,
white men, who wanted the earth and took it,
making it no longer a pleasant place to live on.
lt was plain that they were the people whose
coming had been foretold, and when King Philip
waged a war against the English, Fighting Bear
and a hundred of his friends joined in the riot.
He was beaten soundly, and, being a man of
sense, once was enough. He kept the peace
after that.
'When Stick-in-the-mud awoke the cave was
lighted again and the spirit that had led him
there stood watching. As his eyes opened she
spoke: .. \Vabanowi, I caused you to sleep that
you might be spared the pain of seeing your
people forsake their home for other lands. The
men with pale faces and black hearts are here.
Had you been with your people you would have
stirred them to fight, and all would have been
killed. As it is, they have not fought. I now
set you free. Go into the Narragansett country
and live with your daughter. You will find her
married to Fighting Bear. Do not disturb their
happiness. Come."
Then the rock opened and the chief tottered
67
into the sunlight. He was full of rheumatism
and fringed with moth-eaten whiskers that pres-
ently made the dogs bark. He needed new
clothes. He needed a dinner. He needed a
smoke. If he had known anything of fire-water
he would have been sure that he needed a drink.
He looked down at Lake Initou: not a canoe!
On the site of his village: not a wigwam! The
trees had been cut, log houses stood in the clear-
ings, people with colorless faces were using
strange implements in tilled fields. A cock
crew. Stick-in-the-mud started; it was a new
sound to him. A horse laughed; he winced. A
sheep bleated; he began to sweat. A cow lowed;
he started for a tree. A jackass warbled; he
looked around for the cave, but it had closed.
Descending, after he had gained confidence,
he shaved himself with a quohog shell, found
his wreck of a canoe, guided it for the last time
across the lake, and landing at its southern end
crushed it to pieces-not the pond, but the canoe.
Then he went to Providence, where his daughter
met him and presented a few of her children,
who climbed over him, hung on to his hair, and
otherwise made him feel at home. He saw that
68
he had bcen outclassed as a prophet and that if
he had taken the advice of his son-in-law he
might have avoided being put to sleep in Rag
Rock. Still, this Indian Rip Van Winkle had
been refreshed by Ilis slumbers, and he lived for
a long time after, spending a part of every
pleasant day in playing horse with the youngest
of his grandchildren-for he had found that
horses do not bite hard-and proudly watching
the replacement of youngest No.8 by youngest
No.9, then by No. 10, and so on to a matter of
18 or 20. In September, on the day nearest to
full moon, he still goes back to Rag Rock and
looks off at sunrise. You may see him then, or
you may see him half an hour later skimming the
surface of Horn Pond in his shadow canoe.
Having thus revisited the scenes of his youth,
he retires for another year.
TOY DU~~~ DANCE ON RAG ROCK
RAG ROCK, in which Wabanowi had his

long sleep, was a home of sprites and
demons down to the nineteenth century. Thomas
Dunn knew this, and on ordinary nights he
69
would have taken all manner of long cuts
around it, for he had no fondness for things not
of this world, whether they were ghosts or gos-
pels. But on the night of his dance, having
been to a husking-bee where he had "kept his
spirits up by pouring spirits down," and having
found so many red ears that he was in a state
of high self-satisfaction, for he had kissed his
pretty partner twenty times, he spunked up and
chanced it straight across the hill. As he ap-
proached he saw a glow among the trees and
heard a fiddle going-going like mad. He buf-
feted his way through the thicket to see who of
his towns-people were holding a picnic in the
moonshine and dancing to such sacrilegious
music ; for there was dancing; he could hear
the shuffle of feet. In a minute he had reached
the edge of a glade lighted by torches and found
there a richly dressed and merry company trip-
ping it with such spirit as he had never seen
before. He dearly liked to shake a leg in a jig
or reel, and a chance like this was not to be
withstood. He entered the ring, bowing and
all a-grin, and was welcomed with a shout. On
a hummock of moss sat a maid without a part-
70
American l\fyths and Legends
ner, a maid whose black eyes snapped with mis-
chief, whose cheeks and lips were rosy, and
whose skirt, raised a trifle higher than common,
showed a pair of marvellous neat ankles. The
indtation in her smile and sidelong glance were
not to be resisted. Tom caught her by the waist,
dragged her to her feet, and whirled off with
her into the gayest, wildest dance he had ever
led. He seemed to soar above the earth. After
a time he found that the others had seated them-
selves and were watching him. This put him on
his mettle, and the violin put lightning into his
heels. He feated it superbly and won round
on round of applause. He and the girl had
separated for a matter of six feet and had set
in to dance each other down. As he leaped and
whirled and cracked his heels in the air in an
ecstasy of motion and existence Tom noticed
with pain that the freshness was leaving his part-
ner's face, that it was becoming longer, the eyes
deeper and harder. This pain deepened into
dismay when he saw that the eyes had turned
green and evil, the teeth had projected, sharp
and yellow, below the lip, the form had grown
lank and withered. He realized at last that it
71
was the demon crew of the hill with which he
was in company, and his heart grew so heavy
that he could barely leap with it inside of him,
yet leap he must, for he was lost unless he could
keep up the dance till sunrise or unless a clergy-
man should order him to stop-which was not
a likely thing to happen. So he flung off his
coat, hat, vest, and tie and settled into a business
jog. The moon was setting. In two hours he
would be free, and then-a cramp caught him
in the calf, and with a roar of " God save me 1"
he tumbled on his back.
The cry did save him, for a witch cannot
endure to hear the name of God. He saw a brief
vision of scurrying forms, heard growling, hiss-
ing, and cursing in strange phrases, realized for
a second that a hideous shape hung threatening
over him, was blinded by a flame that stank of
sulphur, then he saw and heard no more till day-
light. If he was drunk, and imagined all this,
how can one explain the two portraits of the
witch he danced with? They were etched in fire
on the handle of his jack-knife, one as she ap-
peared when he met her, the other as she looked
when his eyes were closing. A fever followed
79
this adventure. After he had regained his
health Tom took to himself a wife, joined the
church, forsook all entertainments, drank tea,
and became a steady workman. He recovered his
peace of mind, died a deacon, and was rewarded
by having a cherub with a toothache sculptured
on his gravestone.
WOBURN GHOSTS
T HE ancient town of 'Woburn, Massachu-

setts, had its complement of sprites and
spooks. Did not John Flagg have to pull water
from the Black House well from midnight till
dawn, as fast as he could make the bucket go,
to slake the thirst of various imps that crouched
on the earth around him, roosted on the well-
sweep, leaped on his shoulders, and gamboled in
the air? True, he had visited the tavern assid-
uously for a week before, but the only con-
testants against his claim that he had seen imps
and fish with owls' wings and snakes' tails were
the people who could do no more than swear they
had not seen any. And why? Because they had
been asleep.
73
This Black House, so called because it was
painted black, was built by one of the cleverest
criminal pleaders of his day-so skilful in
thwarting justice that people said the Old Harry
was his partner. A thief having stolen a quan-
tity of trousers from a Woburn tailor, he argued
him out of quod and took the trousers in part
payment for his services-to the deep regret of
the tailor who had constructed them. The thief,
considering himself wronged in having to give
up all the trousers when half of them would
have been enough, and strengthening his pur-
pose by repeating a well-known adage relating
to honor among associates, broke into the law-
yer's house to steal them back again, when he
was so terrified by the appearance of a ghost
on the stairs-a white ghost with black wings-
that he leaped through a window, cutting him-
self sadly, and escaped to another county,
leaving his jimmy, keys, dark-lantern, and pis-
tol, an added prize, in possession of his defender.
While this burglar did not succeed, somebody
else did, for the trousers began to disappear,
one pair every night. The serving-maid swore
that they were of no use to her. The lawyer had
H
American .Myths and L egends
no wife who might be ambitious to wear them.
And the strange part of it was that the bells
attached by the lawyer to his windows never
rang, the stiff paper strewn over the floors to
crackle and make the robber advertise and scare
himself was never rumpled; the bolts and keys
were all in the morning as they had been when
shot for the night. So the thief was the ghost.
Several neighbors had seen this dreadful shape
with its white robe and dark wings-seen it as
plainly as they could see the house. Being a
sound sleeper, the lawyer hired a young farmer
to bring his gun and watch for the robber from
the covert of a closet where the now famous
trousers hung in concealing festoons. At two
in the morning the watcher saw the lawyer arise
from bed, tie a pair of trousers about his neck
like a huge cravat, softly descend the stair,
unfasten his door, cross his yard, bury the gar-
ment in his hay-rick, return, lock his door, and
go to bed. He did this in his sleep. Next morn-
ing they pulled eleven pairs of trousers out of
the hay. And again the tailor sorrowed.
Another disappointing ghost lived in a ram-
shackle loft abo,'e the horse-shed of a tavern
75
that occupied the site of the Central House. It
moaned and groaned and rattled a chain. A
travelling showman investigated the place, pulled
out a splinter that hummed in the wind like a
reed, hooked up a chain that clanked whenever
the building slwok, and brought in a pigeon that
wheezed with pip or asthma. The populace was
so convinced that he had laid the ghost-not
by courage but by supernatural acts-that it
flocked to his show and enabled him to reach
his next town with money enough to live on for
a week.
A less explainable ghost is that of the Indian
squaw who was drowned in Horn Pond by her
husband, and who pokes her head out of the
water, sputtering and screaming as she did at
the time of the tragedy. A gunner, hearing this
hubbub and taking it to be the outcry of a loon,
was going to fire, when he saw the head and
shoulders plainly and found on the shore a
blood-stained moccasin.
As to dead Indians, a party of them used to
hold dances in a cavern opening on Dunham's
Pond-now drained, filled, and built over. An
early settler who found his way into the cave
76
American .Myths and Legends
ne,'er found the way out, and he too may be
dancing-with impatience.
Most feared of all the ghosts was the sheeted
skeleton of Daddy Wright, that lived in a hollow
oak on the edge of Wright's Pond-also drained
and filled. The old man had hanged himself
from a limb of this tree, probably because he
could not find the Spanish dollars that a thief
had buried among its roots. A man in the
neighborhood who had become suddenly rich was
believed to have been quicker and luckier in his
search than the late and previous ::-.rr. ·Wright.
'When this ghost came out for an airing he shone
with green and mouldy light. He could burn,
too. A man who passed the tree on his way from
the tavern in the small hours was so frightened
by the sudden emergence of the skeleton that a
lock of his hair turned white. It leaped on his
shoulders, scorching his hat as it touched him,
and thence bounded back into the branches.
Once it leaped upon the back of a cow as she
drank from the pond in late twilight, and when
the startled animal ran from under the tree the
skeleton darted out of sight among the leaves,
rising as lightly as a bubble.
77
HOW THE BLACK HORSE WAS BEATEN
S AM HART, of 'Woburn, was well known in

the Bay State in the later years of the
eighteenth century, for he was a lover of swift
horses, a fearless rider, a layer of shocking
wagers, and a regular attendant at fairs, races,
and other manner of doubtful enterprises. He
had one mare that he offered to pit against any
piece of horse-flesh in the country, and he
bragged about her, in season and out, making
of her his chief topic of conversation and pray-
ers, after the manner of men who drive fast
horses. While taking the air on his door-step
on a summer evening he was visited by a bland
and dignified stranger whose closely shaven
jowls, sober coat, cocked hat, and white wig
made him look like a parson, but whose glitter-
ing black eyes did not agree with his make-up.
This gentleman had called to brag about his
black horse, that would beat anything on legs,
as he wished to prove by racing him against
Hart's mare. He offered odds of three to one,
with his horse into the bargain, and he would
give the mare ten rods start. The race was to
78
begin at Central Square and the black horse
must catch the mare by the tail with his teeth
before 'Voburn Common was reached.
Sam accepted this challenge in an instant,
and next morning the village emptied itself upon
the street to see the fun. The word was given.
There was a cry and a snap of the whip, and
away went the coursers, tearing over the earth
like a hurricane. The mare was supple, long-
winded, and strong, yet the big black was surely
gaining. His breath seemed actually to smoke,
so hot was his pace. Sam began. to suspect what
sort of being this was behind him, and instead of
ending the run in the way prescribed he made
for the Baptist church. It was impossible to
pull up sharply with such a headway, and the
chase went three times around the building at
a furious gal'lop before Sam could steer the
mare close enough to the church door to be on
holy ground. Fire sprang from the black
horse's nostrils. It singed the mare's tail and
the horizontally streaming coat-tails of her
rider. Then the black horse went down upon
his haunches, and Sam, pulling up with difficulty,
dismounted. The Devil, who had been riding
79
American :l\1yths and Legends
the black, was out of his saddle first. Said he:
" You have cheated one whose business is cheat-
ing, and I'm a decent enough fellow to own
up when I'm beaten. Here's your money.
Catch it, for you know I can't cross holy ground,
you rascal; and here's my horse; he'll be tract-
able enough after I've gone home, and as safe
as your mare. Good luck to you."
A whiff of sulphur smoke burst up from the
road and made Sam wink and cough. 'Vhen he
could open his eyes again the Devil was gone.
He put the black horse into his stable, and had
him out at all the fairs and functions, winning
e,·ery race he entered. Still, the neighbors
doubted the blessing of the Devil, for they used
to say that the black was still the Devil's horse,
and that mone. won by racing-especially when
it was won on a sure thing-would weigh the
soul of its owner down to the warm place when
he died.
80
THE BREAKING OF PLYl\IOUTH ROCK
T HE rock on the beach that enabled the

fathers and mothers of the Yankee na-
tion to land dry shod figures in popular oratory
as the corner-stone of our liberties. The rude
block of granite, sea stained and weather worn,
is now protected from the elements by a stone
roof and from the vandals by an iron fence.
Through the weary time of war and toil and
hunger and privation, when the permanence and
safety of the little colony were in constant doubt,
the place of this corner-stone was remembered.
A century and a half later the people of
Plymouth, in common with those of all New
England, were alarmed by the rumors of war
that began to fill the country, and fearing lest
the stone should be forgotten in the years of
battle that might follow, the organization known
as the Sons of Liberty decided to move it back
from the water's edge. Should they be driven
from their homes they might yet fight their way
back, one day, to Plymouth, and the rock of the
Pilgrims would then become the basement-stone
of a stronger, finer nation. In any case they
1.-6 81
deemed it well to save it from the wash of the
waves and burial in sand and concealment in
weeds and mosses, and to place it as a memorial
where their descendants might always look on
it, and so doing might honor the principles that
in an accepted symbolism it represented. As it
was being lifted from its bed by a derrick it
cracked and fell in two pieces. And there were
some who saw in this a forecast of affiiction, for
it surely boded a rupture between those who now
peopled the land and those from whom they
were descended and who still ruled the colonies
from beyond the sea. Truly, in four years from
that time, "the shot heard round the world"
rang out at Lexington, and England's old domin-
ion in America was shorn of strength, influence,
and dimension. New pilgrims make holiday at
the place pressed by the feet of the first settlers,
and each day's news brings proof that the off-
spring of that hardy band are extending their
power around the globe.
89
THE SWAN OF LIGHT
THERE was no island on Horn Pond, Mas-

sachusetts, in the long ago. When it was
Lake Initou the red men worshipped so many
lesser gods that they had no time to praise the
one Master of Life. So it chanced that signs
of anger were seen on the earth and in the
heavens. Lake Initou, Mirror of the Spirit, was
dark and troubled even in the calmest weather.
Flashes of light and unaccountable sounds were
seen and heard on Towanda and Mianomo.
Then the game fled away, the fish grew scarce,
the roots and berries suffered from a blight.
As Chief Wakima lay in sleep on the lake shore
he saw through his closed lids a growing light,
and, opening his eyes, beheld a luminous boat
advancing, self-driven, across the water, bearing
a tall and beautiful form that also shone in
white. The chief sprang to his feet in amaze-
ment, but sank to his knees again in awe when
the boat grounded on the beach and the mes-
senger stood before him, looking down with a
face of sorrow and rebuke.
The shining one said: "You pray to the air,
83
to the lake, to the trees, that your people may
not suffer from disease and hunger, from the
heat of summer and the winter frosts. You do
not appeal to the Spirit that rules all lesser oneli
and all the earth. Are your prayers to the
manitous of the woods and waters answered?
No; you have only sickness, famine, disappoint-
ment. Bid your medicine-men stop their follies,
their shaking of rattles, their chants, their cere-
monies, and address their words to Him who
bends from the clouds to listen and is sorry to
hear no voice of His children. When your peo-
ple have prayed properly, gather them at the
water-side, and if you have been true and good
the Great Spirit will give a sign that He loves
you."
Wakima raised his head to answer, but found
himself alone. The vision seemed like a dream.
Yet in his heart he kneyv he had offended. He
would obey the shining one. He told his
prophets what had been told to him, and ere
long the game returned to the hills, the fish to
the waters, the fruits were sweet and plenty,
and the young grew fast and strong. \Vhen the
Moon of Flowers had come Wakima recalled the
84
promise of the messenger and gathered his p eo-
ple on the lake in their canoes to wait the sign.
Gradually the boats, as of some will of their
own, drifted into a circle, and in the middle of
this ring, deep down, a light began to glow. It
became brighter and brighter as it neared the
surface, and presently arose in the air a gigantic
swan, that shone with a glorious white light, as
silver would shine in the sun. It spread its vast
wings till they covered all the tribe as in token
of blessing; then it settled on the water again
and sank, the light paling as slowly as it had
grown. When it had disappeared something
dark arose silently from the lake, and in the
morning an island stood there-the island that
the red men called the Swan.
THE LOVE OF A PRAYING INDIAN
WHEN an Indian became a praying Indian,

that is, a convert to Christianity, he was
not always so well trusted by the Massachusetts
colonists as he felt he should be, and his pride
was often hurt by the slights that white men put
upon him after he had forsworn his native fash-
85
ions. So it was with young Bran, of Natick.
He had given away his axe and feathers, cropped
his hair, taken to washing himself, learned to
drink ale and eat pumpkin pie, and, dressed in
the cast-offs of a Puritan farmer, was thoroughly
moral and uncomfortable. How much of this
reformation was due to preaching and how much
to the farmer's pretty daughter, Lydia, it would
be unsafe to say, but the neighbors believed that
Lydia had at least as large a share in it as the
parson. And she, being strange to the ways of
town gallants, seeing more of red folks than of
white ones, contrasting the usefulness and gen-
tleness of Bran with the wildness of his relatives,
and meeting him at the table every day,-for he
had become her father's helper,-was not wholly
averse to the young fellow whose chief aim in
life was to so shape that life as to please her
best.
The idea of a union between Lydia and the
Indian was monstrously distasteful to the girl's
parents. She told them, rather tartly, that they
falsified their own precepts and reflected on their
own work when they persisted in treating Bran
as an inferior and an outcast, especially as he
86
could now read, write, cipher, had become a
steady worker, and was a better hunter than
any white man in :K atick. A time of trouble
came. The war begun by King Philip against
the whites reached the village and broke forth
in fire and blood. Some of the praying Indians
forgot their gospelling and joined him. Bran
returned from the fields one evening to find the
farmhouse in ashes and no trace of the people,
save their footprints in the earth. That was
enough. He kicked off the garb of civilization,
glad to be free of it, put on his breech-clout
and moccasins, stuck a feather in his hair,
painted himself gaudily, begged, borrowed, or
stole an axe to add to his knife and gun, and
almost before the trail was cold he was follow-
ing the route of the conquerors through the
woods and over the hills. From :Mount 'Vachu-
sett he saw the smoke of their camp rising
through the trees, and in another hour he was
among them.
As he was apparently in arms against the
English he was welcomed by the people, and a
certain white captive of theirs-who was no
other than Lydia-did not imagine that it was
87
her lover who was strutting about and urging
the savages to fight. She, poor girl, was trussed
against a tree for burning. She had tried to
escape, and as a warning to the other prisoners
it had been resolved to punish this attempt with
death. Bran delivered an oration of some
length and much fervor, reciting the wrongs he
had suffered from the whites and asking that
Lydia and her parents be given into his hands
for torture and killing. He pleaded his cause
so well, following his address with a present of
three or four silver pieces and a swig from a
bottle of rum for each of the leading warriors,
that he had his wish.
That night he volunteered to guard the camp
at its eastern edge,-for the pursuit of the Puri-
tans was feared,-and he gave the rest of the
rum to the guards who were nearest to him-
rum in which he had steeped the leaves of a
drowsy plant. Then in whispers he disclosed
himself to his captives, bade them arm, and
when the night was half spent he led them out
of camp and away to safety. They lodged next
night in the ruin of a house but lately burned;
and if there was any chase it did not overtake
88
them, for they reached Natick tired with the
haste of their journey but otherwise none the
worse. When they had rebuilt their house the
old folks resolved to take life easier, and they
looked with a kind eye on their rescuer. They
could no longer refuse to become the parents-
in-law of one who had showed himself so cour-
ageous, so ready in resource, and so true in
love. And the marriage was a happy one.
THE GANDER'S MESSAGE
I N the eighteenth century there stood a gam-

brelled house at Somerset, Massachusetts,
where Widow Le Doit lived with her daughter
and nve stout sons. Biel, the youngest, suffered
a fate common to the smallest member of a
family in that he was teased and badgered by
his brothers so that he often begged his mother's
permission to go away and earn his living else-
where. Above all things he would be a sailor.
He was a connrmed roamer, and he wanted more
room. In one of his lonely rambles he caught
a wild goose that he domesticated and prized
until somebody shot ' her,-he suspected his
89
brothers,-but one of her eggs was hatched
under a hen and the "cute" little gosling that
emerged became a special charge of Biel. A
time came at last when the widow yielded to
the boy's pleadings and consented that he should
go to sea. As a pet, a reminder of home, and
possibly as a Thanksgiving dinner in some dis-
tant port, the gander kept him company in the
ship "L'Ouverture," bound for the western
Indies. Three years the ship was gone, for she
was to change cargoes and trade in the interests
of her owners, so that letters were infrequent.
Biel might be in Uruguay, China, or Denmark,
or he might be on any of the seas.
On the third Thanksgiving day, when the
horn was blown for the great dinner of the year
at the old home, a queer call came back: the
honk of a goose. \Vidow Le Doit's eyes filled.
She recalled her son's pet gander. Another blast
and another call from the meadow. The daugh-
ter shuddered a little. " Is the meadow
haunted," she asked, "or is something about
to happen?"
" Why do you speak of such things, Annie?"
" Becanse there is only one wild goose in the
90
world that knows our horn and will answer it.
Blow once more, mother."
A third blast rang from the horn and echoed
against the low hills. A form arose fro~ the
grass and the laurel patches in the pasture and
flew low toward the house. It alighted before
the two women, honked loudly, then flew off
again. Annie hid her face on her mother's
shoulder. "Biel is dead 1" she cried.
The elder woman soothed the younger and
tried to laugh at her fears, but the laughter had
no ring in it. The two went in, presently, to
receive their guests. All seemed dull and op-
pressed until another call of the wild goose sent
a little shudder through the company. It seemed
like an omen.
"It is there again 1" exclaimed the widow.
" I will call it." And stepping to the door she
sounded a stronger note than ever on the horn.
In a few moments the wild fowl, as the others
thought it, alighted in the yard and pattered up
the walk toward the door. Annie sprang upon
it and carried it to the table, where it stood
stretching its wings and pluming itself, not in
the least disturbed by the presence of the com-
91
pany, until, with a sudden rouse, as if it had
heard something at a distance that it meant to
answer, it stretched forth its neck and uttered a
honk that made the roof ring. A step sounded
on the door-stone, a brown-faced, sturdy figure
dashed in, caught the widow about the waist with
one arm, Annie with the other, and smacked
them heartily; then gave to each of the brothers
such a resounding whack upon his back that he
quailed. It was Biel. After a minute of tears,
laughter, and hand-shakings the gander paddled
to the edge of the table and cocked up an in-
qUIrIng eye. " Well, if it isn't our gander]"
cried the sailor. "He cut away from the ship
two days ago, and I supposed he was a long
way ahead of us. Aha] I see; you thought
we were wrecked. Not a bit of it. Gold in our
pockets and appetites for two. Am I in time
for the Thanksgiving dinner?"
99
.A merican :l\Iyths and Legends
CASE OF THE BROTHERS BROWN
T OWARD the end of the Revolution Cap-

tain Ira Brown, having endured his share
of the dangers and privations of war, retired to
the home of his elder brother, Hezekiah, near
Fair HaYen, Massachusetts, to rest for a few
weeks and forget, so well as he might, the
shedding of blood. Hezekiah was a lawyer
of no great brilliancy, who lived by egging the
farmer and fisher folk of the vicinage into quar-
rels and suits, that he might be employed as
their attorney. At that time the lawyer was
paying court to the daughter of a well-to-do
merchant, who obviously felt little warmth of
interest in him, however, the favored suitor being
a young fellow of good family named Seymour.
The rivalry for this damsel's hand had estab-
lished a bitterness between Seymour and the
lawyer. On an evil day the captain, who was
in nowise concerned in this loye affair, was
taking his daily walk near the shore of Buz-
zard's Bay when a startled, half-smothered ex-
clamation caused him to look about. A figure
dodged out of his sight behind a sand dune.
93
What did that mean ? Was somebody preparing
to playa joke on him? He climbed the dune
and from its top commanded a view of a damp
hollow, half filled with bushes. Among these
bushes lay the body of Seymour. Crouching at
a little distance, with bloody fingers held weakly
before his face, was Hezekiah. "What is this?"
cried the captain, hurrying to his brother. "You
have blood on you. Are you hurt?"
"No-no-I-we met here. He called me
a name-you understand? I thought he would
fight when I struck him. I struck him again,
and-and--"
" Hezekiah ! You have committed murder!"
" No! No! No! Not that! I didn't mean
to hurt him. I thought he would attack me. It
was self-defence-self-defence."
" This is dreadful, Hezekiah, to kill an un-
armed man."
"I know it. I didn't mean to do it. Save
me.I"
" Pull yourself together. Take my handker-
chief and wipe your hands. Don't shake so.
You must get out of this, somehow."
" You won't tell. You can't. You're my
94
brother. For our mother's sake, you won't give
me up."
" No."
"Swear it. Swear that whatever happens
you'll not tell."
" I swear."
"Let me get away. Stay and watch for a
minute, and call if you see anyone coming.
Or, if anyone does come, decoy him away from
here."
And with a face as white as that still face in
the shrubbery he peered over the dune's edge,
looked about in every direction, and with soft,
yet rapid, eager step he went out of sight. Some
minutes later the captain took the homeward
path. He walked with a firm stride, but his
face, too, was pale; his expression was that of
astonishment and pain, his fingers locked and
shifted behind his back. Two neighbors whom
he met, presently, and to whom he hardly gave
greeting, had never before seen that mood upon
him. That night the captain was arrested and
taken to New Bedford jail on a charge of mur-
der. Seymour's body had been found, the cap-
tain's bloody handkerchief had been picked up
95
American J\lyths and Legends
near it, the captain himself had been seen leaving
the spot in pallor and agitation. He was a man
of arms, quick in quarrel. His motive might
appear at the trial.
When the case came before judge and jury,
as it did quickly,-for it was not the way in
those days to delay trials on quibbles month
after month and year after year,-Hezekiah
was his brother's defender. Everybody com-
mented on the coolness of the prisoner, on his
almost disdainful regard for the lawyer, and
everybody noted how his advocate trembled,
started, and perspired at various passages in
the evidence. The prisoner declined to testify
in his own defence, merely pleading innocence.
If he were a murderer, the people said, he must
have struck his victim for some reason, and
probably in a dispute. Of the two brothers the
lawyer was in the worse case. One might have
fancied him to be the accused. The evidence on
both sides was quickly taken. The State's attor-
ney made a case against the prisoner, circum-
stantial, without motive, yet plausible, and the
jury found him guilty.
" Have you anything to say why sentence of
96
death should not be passed on you?" asked the
judge.
For seyeral seconds the captain looked into
his brother's eye. The lawyer quailed, his brow
was wet, he could barely stand; it was pitiful to
see him.
" I can say nothing," answered· the accused.
" I regret the need of condemning one to the
gallows who has fought ably for his country;
one whose name has borne no stain till now; but
I am only the agent of the law, and you are
held guilty of the abhorrent crime of murder.
You have faced death in other forms. You must
now prepare to face it in its most shameful, ter-
rible shape. I sentence you to--"
There was a shriek. It was the lawyer, who,
throwing up his hands, fell heayily to the floor.
" It was too much for him. How he feels for
his brother!" was whispered in the throng.
A glass of water revived him. His eyes were
wild. "I saw him-there-at the door. It was
his ghost!" he exclaimed, in hoarse, tense tones.
" There! Look! It is he-Seymour! My God!
It was I who killed him. My brother is inno-
cent. I am the assassin."
1.-7 97
The judge had risen and was looking down in
amazement. "Is this true?" he asked, so soon
as he could :find words.
" He has confessed," replied the captain.
A pallid man with a bandage on his head had
been trying for some moments to get through the
throng. He raised his hand and caught the eye
of the judge. "This man has not told the
truth," he said, "though he told what he be-
lieved. I am Seymour, hurt, but not a ghost.
Let these men go free."
A RECOVERED POCKET-BOOK
I N the days when Brighton, Massachusetts,

was the greatest cattle-market in the East-
ern States, a certain farmer went there to sell
his cows, and realized a good price for them.
A pick-pocket and miscellaneous scalawag, dis-
guised as a trader, had seen with longing the
wad of bills that the farmer had stowed away
in his garments, and, after the manner of such
knights of fortune, had found an excuse to intro-
duce himself and treat the happy agriculturist
to three or four glasses of whiskey and a
98
American :l\lyths and Legends
drugged cigar. This combination took effect
presently, while the farmer was resting under
the shade of a tree, and he gradually collapsed
on the grass and addressed himself to sleep.
His rest had not been of many minutes' duration
when an acquaintance shook him and asked him
if he would change a bill. He felt in his pocket
for the money, but it was gone, and so was his
friend of an hour. He was awake now. Far
down the road he saw the fellow running, and
although a pursy man himself he gave so lively
a chase, and bawled" Stop thief!" so loudly that
the rogue made toward a woman who sat beside
the way enveloped in a cloak and rocking a child
on her knee, tossed something at her, and was
off, over a fence and out of sight behind some
sheds. The farmer arrived, panting. "Aha!"
he cried, to the woman. "You are that scoun-
drel's confederate, are you? Give me that
pocket-book." And with a dash at his treasure
he wrested it from her hand. Then, plucking
aside the cloak, he looked into the face of his
own wife.
It chanced that the farmer's wife had started
to town to do some shopping, several hours after
99
her husband had left home, and that near the
market her sympathy had been awakened by a
forlorn woman in a faded dress who held a child
and swayed back and forth, moaning as in pain
and muttering sentences from which the spec-
tator surmised that she awaited, yet dreaded, the
arrival of a husband who was engaged in some
wrong-doing. She begged the farmer's wife to
hold her baby while she explored the cattle-
yards and inns, that she might find her husband
and persuade him to go home before he fell into
trouble. This the farmer's wife undertook will-
ingly enough, for she was a motherly soul, and
to protect herself and the infant from dust she
slipped the thin black cloak over her head in the
same fashion in which its owner had worn it.
In a few minutes along comes the thief at a
run, and, not realizing that his wife's place had
been taken by a stranger, being intent only on
saving his bacon, he emptied his pockets into
her lap, saying, " Look out for these," and con-
tinued his flight. If her surprise at this action
was great, it increased when she recognized her
husband's pocket-book, stuffed as never before,
and it was at its height when her lord confronted
100
her and claimed his money. Great was the as-
tonishment of the man to find in his partner the
apparent consort of a thief; but matters were
explained, directly, and the couple were put
about on finding that in addition to their own
wealth they had become custodians of one other
well-filled pocket-book, a purse of silver, a gold
watch and chain, and half a dozen silver spoons.
The pick-pocket's wife returned, presently, to
claim her babe, and sat by the way-side again
to wait for her scamp of a husband. The thief
was caught in a few days, and you may be sure
that the farmer's wife did not allow the wallet
to leave her sight till she had obtained from it
the price of the most resplendent bonnet that
ever was shown in the village church. And she
wore it with great pride on the next Sunday.
THE WALKING CORPSE OF MALDEN

I N the old graveyard of Malden, Massachu-
setts, is the burial place of a citizen who dis-
turbed the town for years, because he would not
rest after he was dead. He had been moody and
misunderstood in his life, and had given his
101
nights to the study of strange things. Odors of
abhorrent chemicals had issued from his house
and choked people in the street, unaccountable
noises had been heard in his laboratory, shadows
had flitted athwart his curtains so goblinesque
and frightening that two people who saw them
lay down on the spot and had fits. When his
death-hour came the man called an attendant,
who had braved the terrors of the mansion, and
with mouth at his ear he gasped: "In my life
I have differed from other men, and by the foul
fiend I will continue different after I am dead.
My flesh is not common flesh, like yours. It will
never rot."
N or did it. His body was put into one of
the old-fashioned tombs, five feet below the
ground and reached by an iron door in a granite
gable. Some years afterward this tomb was
opened, and the corpse was almost as it had been
in life, save that it had grown brown and hard
and dreadful. A medical student, who was
greatly exercised by this discovery, and had
doubts if it were really a man's body that had
been coffined there, visited the cemetery alone on
a squally night, entered the tomb, lighted a lan-
102
tern, and with some composure sawed the head
from the body and put it into a bag, intending
to remove it to his home, where he could examine
it at leisure. No sooner had he finished this
grewsome business than there came to his ears
whispers from the other coffins in the sepulchre,
soft treading in the wet grass outside, moans
and wails, stifled, gibbering cries; and shadows
passed-he saw them on the green and slimy
wall of the tomb. His heart was shaken. With
a yell for mercy, he flung the head upon the
floor, leaped out of the pit, and ran at a frenzied
speed toward home, hurting himself grievously
by falls and stumbles over graves and stones.
Some months elapsed before anyone else took
courage to visit the desecrated place, but curios-
ity would not be stayed, and after a time adven-
turous boys would go into the tomb and exhibit
the head at the door to scare their smaller
friends, especially the girls. This was always
in the daytime, with a bright sun shining, for
nobody would enter the yard at night lest they
should see the fearful thing that happened when
the clock struck twelve. On the last stroke of
the bell the tomb door opened, the brown trunk
103
in its mildewed garments crawled out of its
coffin, pulled itself up by the door-ledge, and
went stalking about the cemetery as if in search
of its head. At the first crowing of the cock
it went back to its rest. Seventy-five years ago
a man bathing in the river just before sunrise
saw a white-robed figure scramble out of the
tomb, and, too horrified to realize what he was
doing, he fled through the Malden streets, unclad
as he was, waking the public with his yells. It
was found that the figure was no corpse, but a
poor, insane creature that had crawled into the
house of death to sleep. The man was so fright-
ened that he would not believe this. He in-
sisted that he had been summoned by a ghost,
and from that very day he began to change,
becoming silent and self-absorbed, and his death
occurred soon after. Then the authorities
banked earth against the tomb until its door
was buried, and the corpse was never after-
ward seen abroad.
104.
A ROLLICKING GHOST
I T was none of your crying, moaning ghosts,

damp and afflictive, that visited old Buxton
Inn, in :Massachusetts, on a winter night. On
the contrary, he was just such a wight as any
good toper and easy gamester would wish to
pass an evening withal. It was harsh weather
out-of-doors-snow and wind and cold-and the
travellers storm-bound in the tavern had gath-
ered in the cozy tap-room where they were be-
guiling the time with cards, flip, pipes, and the
telling of stories. All were joined in a chorus,
none too steady or tuneful, but hearty and mirth-
ful, when the knocker gave a lively rat-tat, and,
as the landlord was rheumatic and fumbled at
the bolt, the first summons was followed by a
couple of sounding kicks.
"Let him in out 0' the weather, heaven's
name!" urged one.
"'Tis one more to our party, and the more
the merrier," declared another.
The door finally opening, there entered 11
dashing, handsome blade whose gold-laced gar-

ments-something out of style, to say the truth,
105
American J\'iyths and Legends
yet well preserved-were covered with snow.
He shook off the white burden to the floor with
a stamp, a laugh, and an oath, and there seemed
a prodigious deal of it.
"Gad, neighbor," exclaimed one of the rois-
terers, "you must have been buried!"
The young fellow told the landlord that his
horses had been stabled, and his servant had
found lodging in the loft. He had supped, but
he wanted tobacco and drink, "if I have the
price for them," he added, slapping his pocket,
with a roguish smile. "If not, I'll throw the
dice with any or all in the company."
The others were willing enough. 'When the
wine is in, the wit and the wealth are out, and
after some hours every penny in the pockets of
the company had transferred itself to the purse
of this unknown lack-grace who sat, tilted in
his chair, sipping the last of his drink and view-
ing and chaffing his victims with easy insolence.
Presently the old serving-woman came in to
begin her day's work-to put out the candles,
sweep the hearth, and take the glasses to the
kitchen ; for the storm was over and the dawn
was in the east. She stared long at the young
106
fashionable, who, with pipe in mouth, and look-
ing perhaps a trifle faded in the gray light,
stared as fixedly at her.
"Master, you do be the very cut of Sir
Charles, off our sign-board," she cried.
" Is it so?" asked the guest. "Then let's see
what I look like."
The yokels, startled at the old woman's dis-
covery, followed her to the window. Surely,
Captain Charles Buxton in the paint was very
like this rufHer in the flesh; indeed, one strain-
ing his eyes out of the smoky room into the
morning twilight might have indulged the fancy
that Sir Charles out there in the snow had put
on a mocking hitch in his lip, over night, and
that the lid of the right eye drooped knowingly,
just a trifle. And one of the fellows said, in a
voice thickened with the night's potations, " It's
the image. Dom'd if he isn't looking down
.at us!"
All turned to compare the picture with the
person, but-he had gone; gone, and no door
or window opened, no footprints in the snow;
gone back upon the sign-board.
107
CRYSTAL SPRING
MEDFIELD, Massachusetts, has its Crys-

tal Spring, where good Deacon Smith
dipped water on a memorable day in 1675. The
Indians had been growing uneasy and had been
threatening vaguely. A council of Wampanoags
and N arragansetts had been held on Noon Hill,
and the light of their fire had been seen afar.
Philip and Canonchet had upbraided their fol-
lowers for allowing the white men to overrun
their territory, and the voice of both tribes had
been for war. Deacon Smith did not know that,
when he arose in the frosty dawn and went to
the spring for water for his cattle. On the way,
however, he caught a glimpse of an Indian,
crouched in the shadow of a tree. In a moment
he saw another, lying flat in a thicket. "Truly,
methinks this savors of dissembling," thought
the deacon, and thereupon he began to dissemble,
himself. If he were to shout with surprise or
fear, or if he were to run to cover, the Indians
would spring up with the cry, "'Ve are dis-
covered. Let us slay him before he carries a
warning to the others."
108
So Deacon Smith sang; not a merry ballad,
because he was a Puritan, and he knew no such
trifles, but a solemn hymn of wrath and ven-
geance against the enemies of the Lord. He
filled his bucket and stalked severely home with
it, singing all the way; but directly that he had
gained the shelter of his house he kissed his
wife and his two children and hurried them to
the back door. "Quick!" he whispered. "D~n't
lose a minute. The Indians are here. Through
the woods to the garrison house. Tell them there
is danger. God keep you."
"'Ve will go with you," answered his wife,
with composure.
"No. Unless they see me back at work they
will know that we are trying to run away. I
will be with you, soon j" and he added, as the
door closed on them, "if not here, in the better
world."
To keep the attention of the lurking foe and
give time to his family to escape, he went to
the water again, singing as before, and he was
yet again on his way between the spring and
the house when the clang of a bell in the distance
gave note that the settlement had been alarmed
109
and its people were gathering for defence.
Almost at the first stroke upon the metal the
song died from the deacon's lips, and he fell to
the earth with an arrow in his thigh. The In-
dians dragged him to his house, intending to
shut him in it and burn it over his head; for
their rage was great when they found his wife
and children gone, and Canonchet, realizing that
he had been tricked, ordered him to be kept for
the torture.
At that moment King Philip rode by, and,
seeing the deacon wounded, on the earth, he
asked:
"\Vhat is the white man doing here, alive,
and wearing his scalp?"
Canonchet, scowling blackly, told how the cap-
tive had gone about his work, singing the wor-
ship songs, to throw the Indians off their guard;
how his wife had reached the settlement and
aroused its people, so that the raid was certain
to fail, and how this offender was to be kept for
signal punishment. Philip paused. "Take out
the arrow," he commanded. "Bind the wound.
N ow let him go. Philip loves a brave man,
whatever his nation. If he cannot walk, leave
no
him at the spring. Now on with all, and kill
the others of this lying, stealing race."
The fight was hot that day. Men on one side
were battling for their lands and on the other
for their homes. Clouds of smoke from burning
houses hid the combatants from time to time,
but the torches, knives, and arrows of the red
man were of small avail against the murthering-
pieces of the white. Ere long the Indians were
in retreat, and as the men of Medfield swept on
in pursuit they heard, from the hollow by Crys-
tal Spring, the voice of Deacon Smith, a little
shaky with weakness, yet full of vim, singing
one of Cromwell's battle hymns: "Let God
arise; let his enemies be scattered."
THE CHEAPENING OF THE "LUCY

JACKSON"
C ONSIDERING that the fishing-schooner

" Lucy Jackson" was so good a boat, it
was hard for the Gloucester people to under-
stand why she changed owners so often. Some-
body would buy her, fit her for a run to the
Grand Banks, then suddenly sell her for less
lli
than she had cost him. When she had been sold
four times in about as many weeks, public inter-
est in the matter demanded that the reason
should be made known; and so at last it was
learned that it was not leaks. No; the " Lucy
Jackson" was seaworthy. She had a ghost!
The owners were quiet about this, because ghosts
are apt to injure the value of property, and
they tried to sell before damaging rumors had
gone abroad too widely. Everybody heard of
it, however, by the time she had been transferred
for the fifth or sixth time, and, more than that,
several people had seen it: a white figure that
moved about the deck, that entered the cabin,
that lost itself among the smells and shadows
of the hold. This was no dream; no invention
of nervous persons; it had been seen by fisher-
men not more than commonly affected toward
sea superstitions.
The last purchaser was Jake Davenport.
"·What do I care for ghosts?" he asked.
" Hain't I sailed with 'em often enough? Dam-
site ruther have 'em aboard any vessel of mine
than rats. They say the 'Lucy' lost some of
her men on the Banks-drowned, you know.
119
American ,,Myths and Legends
'Well, if it's any comfort to the poor dedls to
keep their berths with us I guess we can let 'em,
so long as they keep middling quiet and don't
hurt our luck."
These were brave words, but they may have
been no more than throat-deep, for old Jake
Davenport knew, as well as anybody, that he
would have the tormentedest kind of a time
shipping a crew aboard of any craft that had
spectres in her hold. He went down to the
wharf to see his prize-for she was a prize, con-
sidering how much he had 'not paid for her-
and to estimate what it would take to put her
into the best condition. He botched around till
night fell and the harbor-front was deserted. A
melancholy fog came in, dulling the few lamps
to be seen ashore, so he lighted a lantern and
continued his explorations. She was a lonesome
tub, he had to admit that; and the mice and
rats and roaches emphasized the loneliness
rather than otherwise. The forecastle, pervaded
by the customary smell of stale pipe-smoke and
mouldy boots, was in a dreadful state of dirt,
and he began to pile up some old boxes and
rusty panikins and torn oil-skins, intending to
1.-8 113
pitch them ashore or slip them overboard, when
he was interrupted by a groan. He stood stock
still and listened. Pshaw! It was the schooner
rubbing against the timbers of the wharf.
Maybe the wind was coming up. He would just
gather the rubbish and come around in the morn-
ing and finish, because his lantern might go out
and-there it was again! He felt a sudden
chill. For a moment his legs were paralyzed.
But he kept a hold on himself. It would not
do ·to give way to panic. The noise this time
seemed to come from the deck. He ascended
the narrow, greasy stair, held the lantern above
his head, and looked about. All dark; a faint
roll in the water, and choppy gurgles under the
wharf among the bearded piles; nobody stirring.
He went aft toward the cabin, for he had left
his pea-jacket there. He would put it on and
go home. Hardly had he passed the hatch when
an awful groan ascended, and something white
came toi·ling up the ladder.
Captain Jake felt his scalp slide back and
his eyes pop and his mouth pull into a grin of
terror. In a sort of frenzy he clutched a sword-
fish lance that jutted over the deck-house, and,
114
recovering his speech in that action, suffered his
feelings to explode in vigorous marine language.
The spectre was on the do:ck, groaning and
reaching toward him. He yelled and flung the
spear full at the dread visitant. The ghost
threw up its hands and went down with a shriek
and a slam. This seemed human and substan-
tial, and therefore comforting. Jake ventured
nearer and put his lantern close to the mystery.
It wore boots-number tens. It was also bleed-
ing, for the spear had grazed and cut its neck.
It was also swearing. Captain Jake gave a tug
at the white wrappings, and they came off, con-
siderably blood stained. Then he stood erect,
with arms a-kimbo and brows darkling, and
said:
" Abe Dimmick, you durned old fool! What
are you doing in them duds? This is pretty
business for a grown man to be in, ain't it? And
you the skipper of this very boat, once. I'm
surprised, I am, and I'm good and ashamed on
yeo Say: you do look most sick enough for a
ghost. Guess I must have scratched you, eh?
Well, I've got my flask of Medford rum. Take
a pull, and I'll tie up your neck. You can say
115
a prayer while I'm a-doing it, if you've a mind
to, along of not being killed outright."
So, ex-Skipper Dimmick, being patched and
strengthened, was taken home, and there he con-
fessed that he had been playing ghost so as to
bring a bad name on the schooner, that she might
be cheapened down to three thousand dollars,-
for he had saved that much and wanted to buy
her. He got well, sailed in the "Lucy J ack-
son" as mate, and was drowned off the Cape,
soon after. Since becoming a real ghost he has
not been seen on board at all.
PARSON HOOKER'S GOLD PLATE
you must never lose your wits when the

Devil is about. He is unceasing in his
devices for the upset of good morals. There
were the four lads in a Connecticut village, for
instance, who knew well enough that card-play-
ing was a sin, but intended to make it merely a
little sin by playing for only a few minutes. A
stump of a candle was on the table when they
began, and they lighted it, saying, " \Ve will stop
as soon as the candle goes out." They played and
Il6
American :i \Iyths and Legends
played, and looking up after a time discovered
it was daybreak, and they had been at the cards
all Saturday night. Of course the Devil had
kept the candle burning, and it is dreadful to
think what happened in consequence.
This instance and others like it were doubtless
known to good, keen Parson Hooker, and he
profited by his meditations on them, as this nar-
ratiYe will show. Travelling on horseback,-
and on church business,-at one time he was
benighted in the village of Springfield, Massa-
chusetts, and put up at the inn. There were so
many people in the house that the best the land-
lord could do for his reverend guest was to
bestow him in a room his townsfolk would avoid,
for it had the reputation of being haunted. It
proved to be a comfortable, well-furnished apart-
ment, and, after reading a chapter or two in
his Bible, the minister addressed himself to
sleep. At midnight he was roused. The witches
were coming. It seemed as if all the hags of
Salem and every other pestered settlement were
crowding in. They arrived by the chimney, they
came in at the open window, they squeezed
through the crack under the door. Presently
117
they had set a noble feast, with gold and silver
dishes, and, discovering the parson, whose eyes
bulged like dark-lanterns over a rim of bed-
clothes, they clamored with delight and bade him
draw up and eat with them.
Now, the parson had supped but lightly, and
he was tempted; yet, it was known that if one
ate with witches he would become a witch him-
self. After a brief cogitation he made a resolve,
arose, slipped on his breeches, and sat with the
rabble of uncouth creatures at the table. All
grasped knives and dishes. "It is my habit,"
quoth the parson, "to ask a blessing on my
meals." At the first words of the prayer the
creatures fIed, gibbering and whining, leaving
everything to the clergyman, who ate a good
meal and put the gold and silver plate into his
saddle-bags. As he rode away in the morning
a crow squalled from a tree overhead, "You're
Hooker by name, hooker by nature, and you've
hooked it all."
118
THE EVIL DOING OF HOBOMOC
IN Hobomoc Pond, " the star mirror," at Pem-

broke, Massachusetts, was a stump that
always stood at the same height out of water,
whether the pond were low in an August drought
or high with melting snow in April. Believing
it to be an evil thing, the Indians avoided it.
But one reckless company of fellows, while out
in a canoe, struck it with their paddles. Imme-
diately the water was stirred as by a wind, the
water-lilies closed, the stump rocked harder and
harder, finally tipping completely over and,
as it turned, giving such a clump to the boat
that it capsized, and the young men had to
swim to shore. It was by this token that the
stump was known for Hobomoc himself: the
evil one.
There are Indians, and some folks not In-
dians, who seldom take the trouble to pray to
the good gods, arguing that because they are
good they can have no wish to do an injury.
They pray to the malignant gods instead, that
the latter may be considerate in respect of pun-
ishments. And that was the way with these
119
Mattakeesets: they offered corn and meat and
wampum to Hobomoc, so that whenever he " saw
red," and was moved to hurt somebody, he would
go over and worry the Tunks, in the next valley.
But though Hobomoc said little, he bobbed about
the pond, waiting to avenge the injury he had
suffered in his dignity. He struck Chief Buck,
first, with a sly but consuming illness. 'When
that worthy felt that his end was near he asked
his wife, Sunny Eye, to dress him in full regalia,
draw him to his wigwam door, where the people
might look at him, then, so soon as his breath
should be gone, to wash his sins off in the pond,
and bury his weapons with him in a quiet grave
under the pines. So in a few days it was Sunny
Eye who ruled the Mattakeesets. And now Ho-
bomoc had a new chance. His wiles, his tempt-
ings, his pictures shown to the late chief in
dreams, had been vain as lures from the broad,
straight path of virtue. He had put it into
the hearts of the white settlers to take away
the Indians' lands, but against Buck they had
made no head. On his death they renewed nego-
tiations with the queen and made some offers of
beads and penknives for fields and woods that
I~O
American l\iyths and Legends
they knew were worth gold watches and iron
foundries. Still the Indians were slow to move.
As a last resort the settlers sent a scar-faced
peddler to the natives, with blankets which he
sold for so little that he left his whole stock in
their hands. In a few days the poison of small-
pox began to work, for the blankets were in-
fected. Now the curse of Hobomoc was com-
plete. The fever raged among the people;
many died and remained for days unburied
because there was none strong enough to dig
the graxes; some lost their sight; some lost
their minds; the cooking fires went out before
their wigwams; the Tunks, with whom they had
smoked a hoboken of peace but a little time
before, kept away in dread. 'Vhcn the stronger
had recovered they could no longer endure the
memory of a place that had been so bitterly
cursed. They destroyed their plague-infested
goods and moved away. Sunny Eye, who re-
fused to follow the tribe, went to Furnace Pond,
where she lived to a great age and was known to
the English settlers as Queen Patience. Her
people took their farewell of her with a solemn
dance, and left her with ample gifts of furs,
121
corn, and venison. As the last one disappeared
among the trees, having turned his back on his
old home forever, the stump arose high in the
water and a low, hoarse laugh was heard. The
curse of Hobomoc had worked to its end.
THE TERRIBLE MOONAK
TUGGlE BANNOCKS, a gaunt old negress

and ex-slave, lived in Narragansett,
Rhode Island, near the Gilbert Stuart mill.
Everybody believed her to be a witch, unless it
might be the Indian woman, Mum Arney, whom
Tuggie accused of witch-riding her at night
when she had awakened in fatigue and found
the mark of the bit at th~ corners of her mouth,
and whom she could not counter-charm because
the squaw herself had interrupted the boiling of
a "project," or pot of witch-broth, in Tuggie's
kitchen. Yet the negress seemed to get little
good of her voodoo powers. She was the most
superstitious of the superstitious. It was she
who was thrown into frantic terror by chancing
on old Benny Nichols's sick sheep, dressed in
red trousers and a blue jacket, believing it to be
H?2
American IV[yths and Legends
the Devil. When she found how she had been
deceived she" took it out" on Nichols by dancing
on his roof, blowing soot and smoke down his
chimney, and spoiling the cookery. Tuggie
would never use a chair, and was alleged to have
a habit of sitting on her kitchen wainscot, or
clinging to it with her heels. She had two rows
of double teeth, without incisors, and her grin
filled the beholder with alarm. Her home, the
L of a tumble-down house, was seldom visited
except in the daytime, and then by neighbors
who wanted to hire her to help in their house-
work, so she could devote her nights to mischief
with little fear of interruption.
On a winter evening she was busy with her
hell-broth, for she had a "conjure" to work
against a bungling tinker who had spoiled her
kettle. She would not kill him, but she would
fill him with rheumatism-" make his body all
stomach-ache," as a Canuck habitant put it.
The pot with its" project," including a rabbit's
foot, a handful of graveyard earth, a piece of
red flannel, the tail of a herring, some rusty
nails, and sprigs of a plant stolen from the
tinker's yard, was bubbling merrily, and she was
123
American lVIyths and Legends
humming and muttering the charms that brought
the help of the moonak, or Devil's deputy,
waving her arms and tapping the floor the while,
when a rushing sound was heard that made her
wool straighten itself on her scalp. 'Whatever
the creature was, it came straight on with the
speed of a tempest, gave one knock at her rickety
door, a tremendous knock, burst it open, rushed
over the floor, dealt her an awful blow on the
legs, and threw her down. For a moment all was
still. \Vith face in her hands-she dared not
look-she begged the fiend to go away, prom-
ising to do no more evil, to give up the ways of
witches; and she lamely repeated such Bible
verses and prayers as she could remember. Then
she trembled and groaned anew, for she could
hear soft steps and breathing in the room, and
a grip at her ankle made her yell, with fright.
A dragging noise succeeded; it vanished into the
distance; and, roused by the winter wind that
was blowing through her door, she at last sum-
moned courage to rise, empty the burning" proj'-
ect" from the pot, close the door, and creep into
bed. Perhaps she never knew that her moonak
was a heavy bob-sled that four boys had been
1!il4
unable to control in its flight down an ice-
co\'ered hill. The youngsters had tumbled off
as it approached the house; had watched its
yiolent entrance to h er kitchen; peeping in, had
seen her abject fear, and had rescued their prop-
erty from the place of dread, one of them gidng
a yank at her foot as he passed.
PO:\lPERAUG'S LOVE AND BURIAL
POMPERAUG, Connecticut, is named for a

young chief, one of fifty members in his
tribe that survived King Philip's war. He knew
little cause to love the white race, yet he was
not one to nurse a hate. 'Yhen the conquerors
of his people entered 11is yalley, under the lead
of the Rev. Noah Benison, he welcomed them
and promised that they should always be free
of inj ury from the Indians. After the settlers
had helped themselves to as much of his land
as they cared for, and had built houses on it,
he called on )lr. Benison, intending to offer
some adjacent territory for money, as he had
learned, with astonishment, that some Europeans
were honest. This promised to be an amical
1':?5
and business-like visit, and probably would have
been so had not the pars,on's daughter slipped
into the room to speak to her father. Pomperaug
saw her for no more than a couple of minutes
at that time, but they ended his peace. Mary
Benison was seventeen years old, black haired,
rosy cheeked, quiet, graceful, soft voiced, and
of striking beauty. She seemed unconscious of
her visitor's admiration, but he went back to his
cabin under the cliff-Pomperaug's Castle, they
called it-with his dignity shaken, his pulse
quickened, his thoughts busied about other mat-
ters than the hunt. He mended his weapons, he
set his lodge in order, he prepared skins for
tanning. It was useless; he could not fix his
mind on any task; his work was a bungle; and
when night came he could not sleep: the Puri-
tan girl wholly occupied his thought. For sev-
eral days he wandered through the wilderness,
hunting and fishing with utmost energy and try-
ing to forget; f,or was not the squaw for a
chief's lodge a red girl, a free woman, rather
than a house-dwelling pale-face, with a skimped
waist, who shivered in an autumn wind and could
not live on bear-meat in a bad season? It may
1!26
have been so, but he could not argue longer with
himself. He returned to the minister's house
and went to the point at once: " I love my woods
as the eagle loves the air, as fishes love the sea,
yet I will give my land to you if you will give
me the bird in your nest."
The clergyman was angry. "It is the pan-
ther that asks for the bird. Keep to your own
people, knave, and never name my child again."
Striking his staff on the floor, ~1r. Benison
turned away and walked over to his desk, as a
notice that the interview had ended. Without
another word Pomperaug went back to his castle,
but it was with widened nostril and blazing eye.
That evening a messenger arrived in the village
-Pomperaug did not deign to go himself-with
orders that the English vacate the land, at once.
Not an inch of it would be sold, not an inch be
given away. The head men of the settlement
undertook to argue with the young chief, to
plead, to make offers of guns, beads, and
blankets. He would not listen; he would not,
in fact, receive them. "'here the Anglo-Saxon
plants himself lie stays.
A few nights later the settlers put themselves
1~7
in battle order, intending to kill the owners of
the soil, but they were ambushed on the way to
the place of muster, the pastor fell at the first
fire, several were hurt, and only two Indians
were shot.
\Vithin a year, however, all the red men had
been killed or driven from their homes. With
never a thought that one of them might have
remained, or that he would have the heart to
return, Mary Benison had gone to her father's
grave at Bethel Rock, as her custom was, to
meditate and pray. On this particular evening
a slight noise alarmed her, and thinking to reach
home by a short cut she scaled the rock. At
the top a form sprang to meet her, with a smiling
face and extended hands-Pomperaug! \Vith a
shriek she stepped backward, slipped, and van-
ished over the edge of the cliff. The chief hur-
ried below, but he could do nothing. There was
no life in the face that had haunted his dreams
in all these months. He buried her with his own
hands where she had fallen-a northern Chactas
and his Atala-and her beauty became a mem-
ory. Pomperaug joined the little remnant of his
tribe in the Housatonic Valley. Fifty years
198
afterward some Indians stole back to this re-
gion bearing a heavy burden which they buried
beside the grave of Mary, and in the morning
they were gone again. No white man saw the
burial, nor for many years knew that the fresher
grave contained all that was mortal of Chief
Pomperaug.
BLOODY-HEART RHODODENDRONS
I T is called Mast Swamp-in eastern Connec-

ticut-because in other days good timber
for ships' masts used to be cut there, and in
spring it is as often known as Ledyard's flower-
garden, for then it is ablaze with rhododendrons
of strong crimson centres-bloody-hearts, they
have been named. Before the white man came
the Pequots called it Ohomowauk (place of
owls) and Kupakamauk (hiding-place), the last
name being given because of its darkness and
tangle, for the Indians often found shelter there.
Kupakamauk was, indeed, the commonest of its
names. In this jungle, just as the rhododen-
drons were in their glory, the Pequots who had
survived the defeat at their fort on the Mystic
1.-9 129
in 1637, took refuge from the English, entering
by paths unknown to their pursuers. Their case
was desperate. Captain Stoughton was watch-
ing the swamp at every outlet, day and night,
with one hundred and twenty soldiers, and he
had told the Indians that whether they fought
or surrendered it was all one: he meant to have
their lives. They held out for a long time, their
wives and children gradually sinking from star-
vation, until at last they were obliged to sue for
mercy. Over a hundred of them, feeble with
hunger and illness, were taken prisoners. Eighty
women and children became bond-slaves of the
whites and thirty men were carried, bound, on
Captain Gallup's sloop to New London Harbor,
where they were flung overboard and drowned.
Stoughton had spared the chief, Putaquaponk,
in the hope that he would reveal the hiding-place
of others whose country he had invaded; but
although he had seemed hesitant, the Indian
refused to do this when he learned how the
English had murdered his brothers; hence they
bound him with withes, flung him upon the earth
beneath a gorgeous rhododendron, and, putting
their muskets against the heart of their helpless
130
victim, shot him dead. Finding that he was to
die in this manner, the chief cursed Kupakamauk
because it had starved his people into surrender,
and cursed the English for their craving for
human blood. He prophesied that the flowers
which nodded in the breeze above him would
show golden hearts no longer, but hearts of
blood instead, as a reproach to the white people
which they might read whenever the anniversary
of the massacre came around. And since then
the rhododendrons have been red, as with the
gore of the Pequots who have passed to the
happy hunting grounds. When transplanted the
flowers are said to show yellow centres again,
but in the swamp where Putaquaponk's life was
so cruelly taken they bloom as he had said.
CHARLOTTE TEMPLE
T HERE are certain types, not a whit differ-

ent from their congeners and associates,
that keep their hold on public interest when
other representatives are forgotten. Charlotte
Temple's is a case in point. In the shadow of
Trinity, in that grateful oasis which its church-
131
yard makes in New York's desert of brick and
granite, is a freestone slab bearing the name
"Charlotte Temple." Pilgrims go there with
wreaths, bouquets, and potted plants and place
them on the grave, and the crowd of money-
makers who venture millions every day in the
exchanges, a stone's toss distant, possibly wonder
at the survival of sentiment in this day and in
such a city. As a place for strangers to cry
over it is almost as popular as the tomb of
Abelard and Heloise. There really was a Char-
lotte Temple, though this may not be the right
one. She whose dust lies here was the grand-
daughter of an Earl of Stanley, according to one
rcport, and of an Earl of Derby, in another
tradition. The oblong hollow in the gravestone
was once filled by a plate, put there by Lucy
Blackeney, daughter of the deceased, in 1800,
and said to have been engraved with the Derby
arms and the words, "Sacred to the Memory
of Charlotte Temple, aged 19 Years." This
plate, being of silver, was promptly stolen, and
although the thieves dropped it in the grass,
being frightened m"ay by the sexton, it was
never replaced.
13:2
What is popularly supposed to be the story
of :\Iiss Temple's life was told by ~Irs. Howson
in the early years of the century, in a book called
.. Charlotte Temple; a Tale of Truth." It is
an interesting relic of an affected literary period.
It exudes sentiment on every page, it is stilted,
rhetorical, and preachy, its people pine and weep
and declare their griefs with Alases! and pray-
ers, and when Charlotte is won from an English
boarding-school by the handsome, dashing Cap-
tain )Iontraville, and brought by him to New
York, she expresses sorrow at his continued
neglect of the marriage ceremony by sitting in
an arbor and playing on a harp, " accompanying
it with her plaintive, harmonious voice."
She had run away from poor but aristocratic
and affectionate parents and had come to Amer-
ica on a troop-ship with the man who should
have wedded her. Captain Montraville seems
to have found her too damp and miserable, and
it was not many weeks after he had joined the
British garrison in New Y ork-a circumstance
that interferes with the date and age on the
tombstone-before he fell ill love with a Yankee
girl, an .. elegant" creature of a lively spirit and
133
an income; yet he was kind to Charlotte until
one Belcour, a designing brother officer, made
him believe her false, when he cast her off and
married the American. Left without resources,
the poor girl sought charity, and found it only
with a servant, in whose hovel her child was
born and she received such kindness as wretch-
edly poor people could show. Her death fol-
lowed in a few days, but her last moments were
cheered by the outcries of the servant and the
lamentations of her father, who had followed
to New York to forgive and rescue her. Captain
Montraville entered the church-yard, by chance,
during the interment, and on learning whose
body had been committed to the earth, he offered
his life to Mr. Temple, who declined it, as of
no advantage to him. He preferred that he
should live and suffer from remorse. Captain
Montraville then hunted up Belcour, ran him
through with his sword, and himself fell into a
dangerous illness. To the end of his life he was
afflicted with melancholy, and until the British
forces were compelled to evacuate New York
he would often repair to the grave of his victim
and repine because of his wrong-doing.
134
JAN SOL AND THE MONSTER
IN the solemn days of the Dutch occupation

of New York, when people went bear-
hunting in Harlem, picked violets in Ladies'
Alley (now Maiden Lane), wore gags in their
mouths, and had their elbows trussed for speak-
ing evil of dignitaries, there was a ruffling little
man of the town-garrison, Jan Sol, square-built,
flat-faced, pop-eyed, who by his own confes-
sion was the doughtiest soldier on the isle of
Manhattoes. As corporal of the town-guard his
duty was to keep Indians out and wastrels in,
to see that no unwarranted entries were made
into the houses of burghers or the windows of
ladies, and that people leaving taverns in an
unaccountable state were piloted to their homes,
if they were persons of consequence, and to the
lock-up otherwise.
On a bright spring evening he mounted guard,
as usual, before the gate in the defence that has
left its name to Wall Street. It; Dutchmen ever
have nerves, he must have had them that night;
for he could not sleep, and he kept thinking;
and thinking was an employment that always
135
left him used up for a day afterwards. Never
had the hours seemed so long, never had the
trees whispered and snickered and beckoned so,
never were so many shadows floating over the
earth. Witches had just reached the New
'World, queer forms had been met in Ladies'
Alley, a copious growth of toadstools had been
reported on Windmill Meadow. The windmill?
Hark! Its creaking sounded like words. Tail of
a swine! why must his mind run on these things?
He lugged out a leathern pottle that hung
at his belt and took a long, long pull, yet his
warm courage went to zero, for as the flask went
up at an angle of forty-five degrees he espied
over the shoulder of that comforter a monster
with glowing eyes, long teeth, and thrashing
wings, and up went the hair of Jan Sol so high
that it nearly lifted off his helmet. He had
enough presence of mind left to fire his blunder-
buss, which, being heavily loaded, knocked him
flat, and the relief coming up, almost at a run
in its excitemenJ;, took him, limp and helpless,
before the governor, to whom he chattered his
story.
The governor gravely warned him against the
136
over-use of schnapps, and as a punishment
directed that he spend four hours of the next
day riding the wooden horse in sight of the
populace. "Punishment!" echoed the soldier.
"Punishment for what?" But the governor
wa"ed him majestically from the presence. The
council, however, gave a hearing to Jan Sol,
after he had come from straddling the beam and
had kicked the circulation back into his legs;
and for four hours thereafter it discussed what
ought to be done with the monster. At the end
of that time it adj ourned, in astonished silence;
for a taciturn member had opened his head for
the first time in a month to ask, respecting this
bugaboo, " Is there one?"
On the next Saturday night seven picked men
went on guard, loaded with all the iron weights
they could borrow from the shop-keepers, that
the creature might not fly off with them. ::\Iid-
night having struck without anything happening
to break the peace, it was agreed to take turns on
guard, and, greatly to his sorrow, the first turn
fell to Jan Sol. His companions forthwith
rolled into the lee of the wooden wall and fell
to snoring doughtily. ~ow the moon sunk, and
137
darkness overspread the earth; the windmill
began to creak and chirp; there were strange
rustlings and the patter of feet, and the heart
of the guard began to bump his oaken ribs once
more. He was frozen with horror when, just as
he turned to walk back along his beat, he saw
the awful creature of his fears rising again above
the timber fort. It flew down, glided swiftly
toward the governor's house, where it seemed
to leap the wall, covered though it was with its
defence of broken bottles, and then Jan Sol
found his voice in stentorian roars ..
The guard roused, and so soon as it could
make out what Jan had on his mind-an affair
of a quarter of an hour or so-it ran to the gov-
ernor's mansion and roused the household, which
turned out in nightcaps with pistols and pokers
in hand. 'Vhile the convention was discussing
the affair of the night a sound, as of a key softly
fitted to a lock, caught the ear of two of the
guard. They therefore flattened themselves
against the wall, one on either side of the gate,
and held a rope across it. The gate opened
quietly, then a figure rushed forth, caught its
foot in the rope, and fell heavily to the earth.
138
American ~lyths and Legends
The entire company, excepting the governor's
daughter, a pretty minx of eighteen, who was
in a state of tearful agitation, fell upon the
monster-for there is courage in numbers-and
pulled him within doors. After he had been
despoiled of his long cloak and sugar-loaf hat
the creature proved to be a presentable fellow
in his twenties. He admitted that he had leaped
the wall at about the time the mill sails had
begun to move on a freshening wind-a circum-
stance that had scared Jan Sol into a belief that
the stranger had wings. Indeed, through the
rest of a long life Jan held out for wings, and
scornfully repudiated the idea that this fresh-
faced gallant was the being that had leaped the
wall. The stranger said he was from Pavonia,
but when they asked him why he had come into
New Amsterdam by a way and at an hour that
laid him liable to the death penalty, he set his
jaw and would not speak. So they sentenced
him to die by the rope.
Some time before the day set for the execu-
tion the governor's daughter flung herself at her
father's feet, made confession, and implored the
young man's release. He was her husband. She
139
had met him at a pleasure excursion across the
river, where he had won her respect and love by
kicking a drunken Indian who had been imper-
tinent to her. Before the governor had recov-
ered from the shock of this disclosure he was
waited upon by a dignified gentleinan in a cocked
hat-the governor of the rival colony of Pavonia,
who had come to plead for the pardon of his
son. The disobedience of his daughter and his
dislike of all Pavonians well-nigh confirmed the
ruler of New Amsterdam in his intention to let
the law have its course, but when the other
governor began to talk of giving up his right to
the river-front and to the shad-fisheries, and
when he looked into the tearful countenance of
his family and saw that his daughter was like
to die of grief, the old man gave in and signed
a pardon for the prisoner. The young fellow
and his wife retired to a house in Broad Street,
which, after a few years, they had peopled with
chubby younkers, everyone of whom refuted
Jan Sol's story that their father had wings.
140
A GIFT FROM ST. NICHOLAS
A lUONG the people leaYing old Amsterdam

rl.. for a home in New Amsterdam before
the latter town was much more than come to its
majority was Claas Schlaschenschlinger, who
practised the profession of cobbler in a little
house at the head of New Street and had money
enough to entitle him to wear eight pairs of
breeches at once, and therefore to cut a wide
£gure in the society of the new metropolis. He
had a pond behind his house, where he kept
geese that multiplied to his proSt, and he was
calmly content with his lot-in fact, with his
house and lot-till he fell in love. Nobody is
calm or contented after that happens to him.
His love would have been a successful enterprise
had not the coquettish Anitje, on whom his heart
was set, been desired by the burgomaster, Roe-
loffsen. There were other young women in the
colony who might have endured that person's
temper, his homeliness, his stinginess, for the
sake of the comfortable widowhood promised by
his advancing years, because he was the richest
man in the town; but Anitj e was none of such.
141
She was too good an American already to sell
herself for money or position, so she accepted
Claas, to the infinite joy of that aspiring artisan.
Among his other mean qualities Roelofr"sen now
developed a revengeful disposition, for, by the
time Claas and Anitje were comfortably, and, as
they fancied, securely settled, and were occupied
in the rearing of an annually increasing family,
the burgomaster began a series of expensive and
disconcerting improvements,-extending streets
through pastures, filling hollows, lowering
mounds, bridging rills, and draining puddles.
Claas's pond had to go. The money for his
geese tided him over until the next improvement,
but the assessment for cutting trees and gutter-
ing the street and laying a walk past Claas's
house to a marsh, took all the silver he had
stored in the old pewter teapot. Worst of all,
there arrived from Holland, about this time, to
complete his ruin, a blacksmith who filled the
soles and heels of New Amsterdam with hob-
nails, which enabled the wearers to preserve a
pair of boots for years, and announced their
goings and comings on the plank walks and
brick pavements and tavern floors with a clatter
149
like a revolution. So it fell out on Christmas eve
of a certain year that Claas, his wife, his six
children, and his cat sat before a meagre fire
and heard the wind howl and the snow dash
against the panes. They digested their supper
of bread and cheese and beer with deplorable
facility, and bleakly wondered what there would
be for breakfast.
Claas sighed forth his sorrow that he had
ever left Holland. What could he do to carry
him through another week? He might sell the
silver clasps on the Bible. Fie! It had been
Book!
.
his mother's, and beside-to deface the Good
'VeIl, then, what? He sprang up with
a laugh, for it had just come to him that on the
morning of his departure for America he had
found in his best stockings a meerschaum pipe,
so beautifully dyed by some faithful smoker
that no mere cobbler was fit to use it. ·Without
a question it had been a gift from St. Nicholas,
his name-saint. A pipe of such a rich mahogany
color was worth the price of a Christmas dinner,
and pork and tea for several days beside. He
went to the old chest and unburied it from a
quantity of gear that had come from the old
143
country with him, took it to the window, and
rubbed it carefully on his sleeve. A gust of
wind filled the room. Claas cried, " Now, which
of you children will do such a thing as not to
keep the house shut in weathers like these?"
and started to close the door, when he bumped
into a little portly stranger who had entered
and stood regarding Claas with twinkling
eyes.
" Eh? Did somebody call me?" asked the
unknown. "\Vell, seeing that I am in, and have
been out there in the cold for hours, I will make
free to warm myself at your fire." •
The family having made room for him before
the excuse for a blaze, the visitor rubbed his
glowing cheeks and shining nose and spread his
fingers over the ashes. "I must say, :Mynheer
Schlaschenschlinger," said he, "that you are
not very hospitable. You might at least put
another couple of logs on the hearth. Humph!
, In need, one learns to know one's friends.' "
"There are more Faderland proverbs than
that, also, and one is, 'It is hard combing
where there is no hair.' "
" Pooh, pooh! Never talk to me of that. Let
144
American :l\'Iyths and Legends
me remind you of another: '\Vho gives from
what he has deserves to live.' "
" Ah, mynheer," answered Claas, with a rue-
ful countenance, " no man has ever been turned
from my hearth; but I have nothing left to burn,
unless it is my house."
" Aha! Is it so? Been wasting your sub-
stance, I see. \Vell, then, ' Who burns himself
behind must sit on the blisters.' There, never
mind; I was jesting. 'A good understanding
needs only half a word.''' And before Claas
could prevent it the stranger had cracked a fine
rosewood cane over his knee and tossed it on
the embers. Instantly it blazed up merrily,
giving as much heat as an armful of hickory
logs, so that the cat roused in astonishment at
the singeing of her tail and was fain to crawl
to a cool corner; and the cane burned for ever
so long without going out, making the place
seem cheery and home-like once more. Pres-
ently the guest began to rub his paunch and look
wistfully at the cupboard, glancing aside at the
cobbler and his wife, as if wondering how long
they would be in taking a hint. Finally he
blurted, "I've had no dinner, and I hoped I
1.-10 145
might be asked to share a bite and sup. This,
you know, is Christmas eve."
Claas winced. "Y ou should be welcome with
gladness, if we had some things to eat that we
could offer to you."
" Never tell me that you've had your supper.
I can eat anything. 'Hunger makes raw beans
sweet.' "
" It is hard, what I have to tell. It is that we
have no beans."
" Look here, Claas, I don't think you intend
to be mean. N eyer trouble about the beans. A
cut from that fowl will do, for it is a fowl I see
on that shelf, isn't it? And there is no mis-
taking that big bread-loaf. And are my eyes
dim with the heat, or are those cookies and oly-
koeks and mince pies? And never tell me it is
water you keep in that bottle."
Claas eyed his friend wearily, yet warily, for
he doubted but the little man was daft, while
Anitje went to the cupboard to show the visitor
how well he was mistaken; that his eyes had
turned the flickering shadows and reflections into
things that were not there; but she threw up her
hands and cried aloud; then ran to Claas with
146
American ~Iyths and Legends
a roast goose on a platter, whereon Claas cried
louder, and the offspring cried loudest.
" , Better a half egg than an empty shell; as
we say in Amsterdam;' remarked the ruddy man
wIth a sarcastic wink, and his finger at his nose.
Candles were lighted, and in a minute a
brave array of good things smoked on the
table, for the wonder of it was that except
the wine and schnapps, which were cold and
fragrant, they seemed to have corne but then
from the oven.
" X ow, then;' said the stranger, beaming,
" 'one may not give away his shirt if not sure
of his skirt; as we used to say in Holland, but
I think you can spare me a plate of that goose."
So they fell to and feasted themselves in the
merriest humor, and the shavers flocked to the
knee of the man with the twinkling eyes, who
was full of quips and stories, and they pledged
one another in glasses of Rhenish- Claas dimly
wondering where he had bought those handsome
glasses-and in the end the stranger gave Vrou
Anitje a tremendous smack, which only made
her blush and Claas to grin, for those greetings
were duties and compliments in the simple days.
147
Then Claas showed the pipe he had intended to
sell, whereon the stranger cried, " That pipe! I
know it. John Calvin used to smoke it. It is
a lucky pipe. You must keep it all your days
and leave it to your children. Whoop! What's
all that?" For at this moment the boys of the
neighborhood, who were allowed on this one
night to sit up later than nine o'clock, or had
been called by their indulgent parents, greeted
their holiday by firing their little cannon.
" Midnight!" exclaimed the twinkling little
man. "I must be off. Merry Christmas and
happy New Year to you all. Good-night."
And with that the stranger arose and bowed
himself into the chimney. N ow, whether he
stamped among the ashes and sent up such a
cloud as to blind them all,-for it is certain
their eyes were watery and they fell a-sneezing,
-or whether the little gentleman was so very
lively that he got away through the door before
they could say" Jack Robinson,"-which they
never did say, there being no such man in the
colony-Claas and his wife and children could
never agree, Anitje and the girls insisting that
he went up the chinmey, as if he had been blown
148
American :L\1yths and Legends
away in the draft. In the morning, when the
wife swept the hearth before starting a new fire,
she heard the chink of silver, and there in the
ashes she found a fat purse bearing the words,
" A Gift from St. Nicholas."
'While she and her husband were marvelling
properly upon this an increasing gabble of voices
was heard outside, and behold, there was half
the town populace staring up at their windows
and expressing great astonishment. And with
reason, for the house was no longer of wood, but
of brick. There was talk of arresting Claas
and his family as wizards and dangerous to the
well-being of the State, but he told so straight
a story, and showed such substantial evidences
of his new prosperity, that they made him alder-
man instead. "The Dutch House," as they
called it, was for many years a landmark. When
it was torn down, by an alien of British origin,
the workmen were slapped about the sconce by
unseen hands and had laths and slats vehemently
applied to their sitting parts so that the neigh-
bors said St. Nicholas was protecting his own.
149
STATEN ISLAND DUELLIKG GROUND
NTHOUGH a borough of New York City.

Staten Island keeps a hold on the past
not generally retained in districts where people
come and go so fast that the meaning of home is
unknown, where relics and trophies are eagerly
swept aside to make room for money-making in-
stitutions, and where immigrants to whom our
history is unmeaning and unknown swarm in.
Here are the old Moravian church; the home of
Garibaldi, the Italian liberator; the quaint
Black Horse Inn; the fort thrown up by Lord
Howe back of "old Richmond towne;" the Bil-
lopp, Taylor, and Fountain houses, built when
the "Chapel," "Castle," and "Tea House"
were erected on the New Jersey side of the Kill
von Kull in the belief that Perth Amboy was to
be the American metropolis. In a hollow south-
west of Black Horse Inn, New Dorp, many
gallants and ruffiers of the eighteenth century
fought their duels with sword or pistol, as the
challenged might elect. General Robertson, of
the British army, killed a French naval officer,
Vollogne, who had resigned his commission and
150
followed him to America for the express purpose
of fighting him. General Skinner, of the British
army, went out to exchange shots with a Hessian
officer, but on General Howe's peremptory order
he had to defer the duel, and met his death in
battle. Two other of Howe's officers, Colonels
Illig and Pentman, fought here on horseback
for an hour, slashing at one another like sayages,
and stopping only when they were weak with
loss of blood. ~Iaj or Andre was Illig's second.
Two officers of a Scottish regiment who sleep
side by side in the cemetery of St. Andrew's,
Richmond, in forced or seeming friendliness,
fell on this ground, each by the hand of the
other. They loved a girl who had been making
havoc among the officers of the post, for she
must ha"e been a desperate flirt, and as her
father was a Tory and a volunteer officer on
Howe's staff she was often seen about head-
.
quarters. \Vhether she showed a preference for
either of these hot-headed Highlanders, to the
rage of the slighted one, or whether they fought
in sheer exasperation because she would notice
neither, was and is unknown. Friends tried to
reconcile them, but without avail. Two brother
151
officers paced off the ground, put the pistols into
their hands, and the word to fire was given.
Both fell mortally hurt at the first shot. Was
the girl smitten with remorse? A slender figure
was often seen at twilight in the graveyard
where they rest beneath unmarked mounds, and
while she lived those little heaps of earth were
kept green and fair.
A TRANSFERRED LOVE
UP-TOWN, on the west side of Manhattan,
is an unoccupied brick house standing
back from the street and thereby attracting
notice, since it differs from the average of resi-
dences in that quarter, which are built so close
to the pavement that to see the cars go by
would seem to be the most precious privilege of
the people who rent them. This was the home
of a young physician who, with his wife, had
been drawn to New York in the hope of ac-
quiring such a practice as his gifts would appear
to warrant, for he was a man of good presence,
well bred, skilled in his vocation, and needing
lSg
only a chance to make fame and fortune. But
the chance did not come. The little he had saved
was soon absorbed by rent and house expenses,
and the two found themselves confronted by
actual penury.
"Vhen affairs were at their worst an evil provi-
dence put wealth in their reach. It came as an
orphan who had nearly lost her sight in a con-
vent school. Though friendless she was heir to
a large sum that would become hers on the at-
tainment of her majority, and that would be
properly administered until that time, only a
year away. Her case required frequent treat-
ment and good nursing, and when it was found
that liberal payments could be made for these
services the doctor, who had been called at a
hazard, persuaded her to go home with him,
that he might study her case more closely and
give kindly nursing. She was thankful that she
had found.a protector at last. Her health prom-
ised an early demise, and then-- The physi-
cian and his wife had consulted long before
taking this step. They loved one another, even
though poverty had entered the home and made
life bitter for them; but a mutual sacrifice would
153
insure for their future such a provision as they
had never dared to hope.
It was a bold thing they resolved to do; it
was conspiracy; it was violation of the law;
yet, it was so easy, and it promised so well!
The wife was to represent herself as the physi-
cian's sister, she was to help her husband to
commit bigamy in marrying him to this half-
blind and dying girl, and she was to keep house
for them until death relieved them of the in-
cubus and put the fortune into their hands. The
plan worked with surprising ease. 'Whatever
the wife may have felt when she heard her
husband promise to love and cherish this frail
rival, and saw him slip her ring on the finger
of the bride, she held her peace, in company.
In order to impress the trustee of the girl's
estate with the integrity of his efforts on her
behalf, the physician took her on a wedding-trip
to the 'Vest Indies, believing, as he said, that it
would restore her health. Before sailing he
bought this house in New York, with her money,
and installed wife number one there to await
their return. The trip lasted longer than any
had expected, and the woman alone in the old
154.
brick house often paced up and down the rooms
in agitation of mind. The baggage was taking
a good while a-dying, she thought. It would
havc been better had she been kept at the
North and killed with another of our raw
winters.
But word came at last that the happy pair
would be at home on a certain date, and the
house was put in order for their reception. The
"sister" had freely spent all of the bride's
money she could gain, and the house had become
inviting. They reached the home, that husband
and wife, and the" sister's" face grew gray and
her heart beat in pain, for she saw that the new
wife was better loved than eyer the first one
had been, and that the voyage and the care had
completely restored her health. Instead of a
pallid, weak, dim-sighted girl, her rival was now
a pretty, smiling, graceful, altogether attractive
creature, clear of eye, merry in her laughter,
and supremely happy. 'VeIl, the comedy must
be played to its end. She received the couple
with every token of solicitude and affection, and
a delightful little dinner was served in the cozy
dining-room. The husband was alternately gay
15'>
and moody, and he drank more wine than was
quite meet.
Charging three glasses he bade the women
drink with him to health and long life. The
watchful " sister" had seen the quick motion by
which something had been dropped into the glass
he passed to her, but without ceasing to smile
she drank half of it. Then, under pretence of
removing a dish, she managed, unknown to him,
to exchange glasses with her" brother," for his
own glass now held the same amount as hers.
" You do not drink," she declared. "Y ou neg-
lect your wife. To the bride!"
The physician tossed down the half-glass of
poisoned liquor. Then the wife rising, with an
uncertain motion, her face drawn, her lips blue
and shaking, her eyes staring, caught him about
the neck. "At last!" she cried. "You are mine
again. Mine---mine-and Death's!" The ser-
vant hurried for a clergyman, but it was too late.
Husband and wife were buried together.
Shocked out of her sanity, the bride had to gain
health anew in a retreat. The house was rented
to several tenants, but none of them would stay,
for they reported disturbances in the night, and
156
American l\:Iyths and Legends
one man said that he had heard a failing cry,
as in some remote room, of " :M ine-mine-and
Death's !"
GHOSTS OF DOSORIS
D OSORIS ISLAND, off the north shore of

Long Island, is said to have taken its
name from dos uxoris, " a wife's gift," the prop-
erty having passed to a former owner on his
marriage. It was sold to one Robert 'Williams,
in 1668, by Agulon, Areming, Gohan, Nothan,
Yamalamok, and Ghogloman, chiefs of the Mati-
necock Indians. If so small a tribe could afford
half a dozen chiefs, the distinction associated
with the title was about equal to that enjoyed
by orderly sergeants in a regiment. And speak-
ing of soldiers, General Nathaniel Coles, then
owner of this land, was caught by the British
during the Revolution, and hanged here, in his
own doorway. They left him for dead, after
ten minutes; and when they had gone he untied
his hempen cravat and walked away in a fine
frenzy to do battle with them on some field
where they had no facilities for hanging pris-
oners. The secret of his escape was in his great
157
American IHyths and Legends
height ; for while his enemies supposed that he
was strangling to death he was merely standing
tip-toe on his door-sill.
According to the people who lived on Dosoris
in the last century, its woods and its beautiful
lane were a common resort of elves and goblins,
and people who ventured out at night, except in
company and with lanterns, were apt to scuttle
homeward again at the first cry of a cricket or
call of a dreaming bird, for the lane alone had
three vexatious spooks: one of Derrick 'Vilkin-
son, a hard-riding jockey who had broken his
neck in a race and who would waylay belated
revellers from Glen Cove, not merely to affright,
but to larrup them with a strangely ponderous
cudgel; one of Billy Cowles, an asthmatic, who
hurried about in search of his breath, and who
could be identified by his wheezing, his open
collar, and a cravat which he never wore except
in his hand; and one of a bibulous miller, who
was often seen flying up the lane like a belated
member /if the wild hunt, astride a monster demi-
john that he lashed and spurred until it had
carried him to the foot of the " drinking-tree,"
where he would disappear, for he ended his life
158
under that very tree by filling his skin so full
of alcohol that nature could not endure it; and
if you don't believe it, the tree stands there to
this day, in proof.
THE ROCK OF BATTLE
THE early settlers at }Iassachusetts Bay

did not go far from home. There were
no roads, and there were savages and wild beasts
to forbid long wanderings. Still, the Anglo-
Saxons are a conquering and uneasy race. There
were incitements to exploration and adventure
thnt they could not forego, and we have it on
fair authority that stout and stubby Miles Stand-
ish, v,ho was most of the military force at
Plymouth, brought up on one occasion as far
away from that town as Manhasset, on the north
shore of Long Island, nearly a couple of hun-
dred miles distant. Possibly his rej ection by
the lady of his choice may have made the com-
pany of the woods agreeable to him, and possibly
he may have been casting about for worlds to
conquer. His companion on this journey was
one Davis, an English lad of gentle birth,
159
strong, tall, and handsome. Their stay among
the Indians of this region was long and friendly
enough to allow Davis to get into a love-scrape,
for he conceived a violent attachment for one of
the Manhasset girls, and his affection was re-
turned. Had she not been promised to one of
her own people, the affair would have had a
successful issue; but Davis had a rival, and
neither would yield in favor of the other. The
girl encouraged her white admirer and held
stolen meetings with him.
Contrary to the way of many of the English,
who wooed and won the native women only to
abandon them, Davis was in earnest, and he
wished to make The Fern his wife. He planned
an elopement. Standish appears to have gone
home, or at least he was not with his lieutenant
when the affair became portentous, so that our
Romeo had to venture all alone. Cautiously
though he had planned, the Indian lover kept
his watch; and he was quickly on the heels of
the runaways, with a dozen or twenty Indians
in his train. There is in Manhasset a great
bowlder that is a favorite trysting-place with
swains and damsels of the vicinage. This stone
160
marks the end of the flight, for here Davis and
the bride-expectant were overtaken. Setting his
back to the rock, like Roderick Dhu, he loaded
his cumbrous gun and gave battle. Some of his
enemies he laid low, yet he could be no match
against their ambush and their quick darts. It
was a despairing and useless fight. Numbers
conquered. Davis fell with an arrow in his
heart. The dusky Juliet, plucking this shaft,
smoking with his life-blood, from his body, drove
it forcibly into her own breast, and lying beside
him with folded arms breathed out her existence.
The names of the two were cut in the stone, and
may still be read, though moss and lichen have
partly overgrown them.
THE NON-ARRIVAL OF FITZ-

WILLIAM
THEY do say that ~1a~ilda Roxana Sammis

was a good deal of a flirt, but people who
reasoned things out never took much stock in the
success of her attempt to play Hero to the
Leander of Henry Fitzwilliam. For Matilda
lived on the bluffs north of Glen Head, Long
1.-11 161
Island, and would sit on the shore reading
poetry-books at sunset. The Connecticut shore,
where Fitzwilliam lived, is about six miles away,
across the sound. So, if, as they say, she dis-
played a candle in her window after her father
had sent her to bed with a lecture tingling in
her ears, and the possible mark of her mother's
slipper tingling elsewhere, she was a wicked girl
to expect her Henry to swim that stretch of
water, and a foolish one if she thought he could
see her candle six miles away. The chances are
that Henry was less of a sentimentalist and a
chump than she fondly imagined him, and that
he crossed the sound in a sensible Yankee
fashion, in a boat. True, he may have spilled
himself overboard just before he reached Glen
Head, if he found that it made her happier to
believe he was risking cramp, pneumonia, rheu-
matism, and sharks for her dear sake; and a
reason for thinking that he did this can be
found in the lessening number of his visits. He
was engaged, it is true, but wasn't Leander,
too? Yes; he swam the Hellespont to call on
his lady, and one night he didn't get across
alive. Aha! One night Fitzwilliam didn't get
16~
across, either, and a corpse was found on the
shore next week. They said it was his. Now,
it may be true that Miss Sammis paled and
peaked and pined and perished; or that her
father moved to Iowa, where she found a mate
who did not know how to swim, and became a
shrill, fussy matron, with eight children to look
after. Both versions of her fate are extant.
Twenty years after the loss of Mr. Fitzwilliam
a hearty mariner, somewhat bulbous of outline,
somewhat bald, somewhat gay as to his nose,
appeared in Glen Head, married a buxom farmer
lass of Hempstead, bought the old Sammis place,
and settled down. He pretended that his name
was McCorkle, but some of the neighbors
winked, solemnly, and said they knew whether
it was or not.
TRAGEDY OF THE SECRET ROOM
ON Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn, between

Clarkson and Winthrop Streets, stands a
part of Melrose Hall, that in 1740 was a noble
old place, with twenty acres of lawn and garden
about it, facing down a long drive edged and
163
shadowed with pines. It was furnished with a
luxury unusual in that day and in such a place,
for although the prosaic trolley-car now carries
one from the mansion to New York City Hall
in half an hour, it was no such matter in those
days of sailing-ferries and bad roads. It had
a vogue of its own in the high society of the
region, and its dinners, dances, and jollities were
famous.
Colonel William Axtell, second son of an Eng-
lish nobleman, was the builder, and it was de-
signed with reference to a peculiar domestic con-
tingency. All of the large, oak-panelled rooms
were well lighted save one that extended over
the ballroom and was commonly thought to be
a useless garret. This had only two small win-
dows with diamond-shaped panes, and no obvious
entrance. When Colonel Axtell's father died
and he was left in the usual penniless condition
of a younger son, an opportunity came to him
of uniting with a rich family. It was the
younger daughter, Alva, whom he would have
chosen, and she fell deep in love with him at
sight; but the family would have it that he
must wed Agatha, the elder. Indeed, that
16-1<
American :l\fyths and Legends
arrangement was effected before any of those in
interest had thought over the matter sufficiently,
for the colonel had resolved to emigrate to
America, where he believed new fortunes could
be made, and where the promise of an office
assured him of the social position he enj oyed.
The next ship that sailed for New York after
the marriage took the colonel and Agatha as
passengers. On the ship that followed was Alva,
a runaway. Arriving on this side of the water
the girl took a place as a servant, but having
seen her sister and the colonel driving in a
handsome carriage, with slaves mounted as
equerries, she fell prey to love and jealousy,
and found a way to gain her lover's presence,
after a time, without exciting the suspicions of
the wife. She was installed in the long chamber
above the ballroom, which was fitted with more
comforts than was any other part of the house.
There were silken hangings, Eastern rugs, lion
skins, pictures, books, ornate furniture, and such
cheery knick-knacks as women like to have about
them. Fresh flowers were furnished for the
table, and one old negress, who could be trusted,
was the servant for the charming prisoner. This
165
black woman was the only person, except the
colonel, who knew that the entrance to the room
was behind a full-length portrait that swung on
hinges in the study wall. If Alva went abroad,
it was only at night. For three years the sisters
lived in this fashion, under the same roof, and
while the mistress could hear all the merriment
in the apartments below, she could share no
social pleasures with the wife.
Trouble with the Indians, the beginnings of
that war which was to result presently in the
destruction of Saratoga, compelled Colonel Ax-
tell to leave his home for about six weeks. On
his return he found that the old slave who had
been Alva's servant had died a few days after
his departure. Filled with foreboding, he rushed
to the study and would have swung the portrait
on its hinges, but found it caught in some way.
He applied his whole strength against the
frame; it yielded suddenly, and he stumbled
into the room. A withering corpse lay on the
floor. Alva had died alone. The spring that
opened the door had broken. To call from the
windows or rap on the floor would have exposed
the situation, ruined her sister's peace, and in-
166
.A.merican .Myths and Legends
jured her lover's prospects. She had starved to
death,-starved in the midst of plenty,-and
none in that house had heard a moan. In the
small hours Colonel Axtell took the light and
ghastly thing that had been his mistress and
buried it in his grounds. Three days later he,
too, was dead, and his wife had learned the
truth. Mrs. Axtell sold the property and went,
with her children, home to England.
WHO WAS JOHN WALLACE?
J OHN WALLACE has prototypes in other

lands and ages. Who was he? A stranger
with a Scotch accent who in 1840 arrived in
East Hampton, Long Island, a village cele-
brated, if for no other reason, as the abode of
John Howard Paine, author of "Home Sweet
Home." It is just possible there was a sugges-
tion in the song that lured him to the spot. He
was a pleasant, courtly man of fifty, who at
first kept a servant and lived in the respect and
curiosity of the whole township, for, being rich,
the Paul Prys and sewing-circle spinsters were
almost perishing to know how rich and where
167
he got his money. He was an easy writer, spoke
often of literary associates in the Old World,
taught Latin as a sort of recreation, was lay-
reader in the Episcopal Church which was
founded by his help, was free in his charities
and gentle in his counsels. He lived here in
comparative seclusion till the age of eighty-one,
when he died, as quietly and bafflingly as he
had entered East Hampton.
In over thirty years he had never left the
village except for rides of a few miles. As John
Wallace he lived and died, and that is the name
on his gravestone. Of his history none-even
in the family he lived with-had an inkling.
The gossips said he was a bishop who had erred
and come to the New World to hide himself,
that his sin might be forgotten. Several times
a year he received a letter with an English
postmark and would observe, smilingly, "This
is from my lady friend." It was thought that
some woman sent money to him. The mystery
about the man has never been made clear, but
thus much has been learned since his death:
that he was no Wallace; that he was a bachelor,
though a lover of his kind, a founder of Sunday-
168
schools, and so much a creditor of the State that
he enjoyed a pension, or something of the sort.
In 1840 he was high-sheriff of a county in Scot-
land and had made fame as a jurist and a
scholar. In that year a charge was made against
him, a charge of some strange crime of which he
had not been guilty. He was a victim of plot
or misunderstanding, but he was sensitive, mod-
est, and proud, and to be thrown into jail like
a thief, to be a show in the courts, to be the butt
of I-told-you-so's, was beyond his endurance.
The lord-advocate knew this and was not dis-
posed to be cruel. He told a friend to let the
high-sheriff know that a warrant would issue for
his arrest next day. That day he " died" across
the border, and Scotland never saw him after.
THE HUDSON SPIRITS
various times, in the mouths of various

tribes, and in various miles of its length
between its source and the sea, the Hudson has
borne yarious names. Rising as it did in the
Tear of the Clouds, in the shadow of Mount
Marcy, the Indians of its upper reaches knew
169
it as Cahohatatia (the river from the mountains),
and other names it bore were Skanektade (the
river from the pines), Shatemuc, Mohicannituck,
Shatinicut, Manhattan, Manhattoes, Nassau, De
Groote, Noordt, North, Mauritius, River of the
~fountains, Great River, and Hudson. Its val-
ley was once the home of the :Mohicans, sons of
the Great Spirit who had travelled eastward
across the snow-peaks and the vast dry plains,
for they had heard that under the rising sun
was a paradise where salmon, beaver, bear, and
deer were plenty; where berries grew on the
hills and great woods abounded. Hundreds fell
by the way, slain by fever and fatigue, privation,
cold, and summer heat, but the survivors gained
the green lands, extended their dominion, and
multiplied. At the debouch of the creek at
Stockport they had great storehouses of grain
and meat, and on the fields thereabout they
raised corn. The last of their race, killed in an
ambush set for them by the fighters of the Five
Nations, lie buried on Rogers Island, a little
above Catskill.
The chief of the Mohicans during the great
emigration was Evening Star, and Morning Star
170
was his wife. Their child was Osseo, Son of
the Evening Star. Father and son were de-
stroyed by the Great Bear, and in pity for her
sorrow the pukwuj ininee-the little men of the
woods, who appear as night comes on-raised
the bereaved Morning Star to the sky, where
her son and husband had found refuge from
the troubles of the world. Her mother-in-law,
Minnewawa, fearing that others of the tribe
might also be waylaid and eaten, lighted the
dark places for them, and to that end gave to
the fire-flies the little lamps they bear even at
this day. Then she climbed the Catskills and
helped to light the heavens at night-she could
reach it, for are they not Ontiora, " peaks of the
sky?"-and there she hung the moons, cutting
them into pieces for stars when they grew old.
So Manitou, looking down and noting her care
for the human race, took away her mortality and
made her a spirit like himself, with the moun-
tains for a home, and gave to her the treasury
of light and storm. When the hunting time was
over she warned her people by tipping up the
lower horn of the moon so that a bow could be
hung upon it, in token that the weapon need be
171
used no more till spring. If the people grum-
bled or did evil, her voice thundered in rebuke
and she threw lightnings at them; but when
they were good she would shake showers and
dews from her mantle and spin clouds and blow
them into the valley. In some of the legends
she is not a goddess, but a witch, with many
powers for mischief. There were wicked beings
among the hills, and Manitou, or Manetho,-
who lent his name to Manhattoes, or Manhattan,
which is therefore a godly place,-built the
Highlands and Palisades as a wall to prevent
their descent into the world of men, as well
as to deter those mortals who might be tempted
to intrude into paradise. The Hudson, burst-
ing through the mountain dam behind which
spread the vast inland sea of Ontario, made an
exit from the region of lakes, and in the foam
and mist-the upheaving and down-breaking of
that cataclysm-the wicked ones escaped and
now dwell among mankind.
179
American :I\fyths and Legends
UTSAYANTHA
MOUNT UTSAYANTHA, of the Cats-

kills, is a frequented view-point near
Stamford, its dome rising a couple of thousand
feet above that pleasant town. Few of the
boarders in the neighborhood are aware that its
name is that of an Indian girl, of whom her
father was overfond, as few Indians are, most
of them regarding women as a hinderance, or,
at least, a superfluity. This parent could find
none of his own race whom he deemed to be
worthy· of her, and in desperation, for her
charms were beginning to fade, she took advan-
tage of leap-year to throw herself on the mercy
of a white hunter.
The eloping pair disappeared from view for
a couple of years, and when a longing to see
her old home came upon the woman, her welcome
from the irreconcilable was startling. The
father met them at the threshold, killed the
white man off hand, then tore the infant-for
there was an infant-from its mother's arms
and cast it into a lake. Having done this duty,
and therein maintained certain traditions of
173
American l\{yths and Legends
tribal conduct, the old gentleman conceived that
all of his daughter's affection would be once
more centred upon himself. He was disap-
pointed. She felt a sudden and violent aversion
to this summary old person, and, being helpless
to express it in any other way, she paddled out
upon the lake where her infant had been
drowned and threw herself into the water. The
old man mourned bitterly when her body floated
ashore, and chose for it the proudest tomb that
ambition could have named, for he buried her
at the very top of this mountain, whence it
became known as the Hill of Utsayantha, and
her name it will keep till some company of real
estate exploiters succeeds in persuading the
legislature to change it to J ones's ~lountain or
Smith's Peak.
UNCLE SAM
I N illustrated journals, especially of the hu-
morous sort, our republic is personified by
Uncle Sam: a tall, gaunt Yankee with a tuft of
beard on his chin, long hair falling from under
a furry beaver, trousers that are striped like
174
the flag, and a blue coat. He generally wears a
confident air; and in days of peace he whittles
a stick, while in time of war he is often pictured
as spanking his opponent. The original of this
figure has been variously accounted for. It has
been said that the first of these pictures was an
actual portrait of a Yankee then living in ::\faine.
In his attributes he is the clock-peddler, Sam
Slick, who was invented by Judge Haliburton,
of ~ova Scotia, for purposes of sarcasm and
amusement, but who is accepted by a nation that
is not ashamed of its shrewdness. Brother J on-
athan is an older name than Uncle Sam, and is
thought to have been first bestowed on Colonel
Jonathan Trumbull, one of 'Washington's aids,
and a painter to whom the father of his country
gave sittings for portraits. How the country's
genius came to be called Uncle Sam is not surely
known, but it is guessed that the christening
occurred in Albany during the war with England
in 1812. A sloop had gone up the Hudson with
munitions for troops, and the powder-boxes were
marked, "U. S." Some fellow who did not
spell straight enough to know that these initials
stood for United States, asked a by-stander if
175
he knew what merchant was receiving this un-
commonly large cargo. It chanced that the dock-
master was an elderly man who, his first name
being Samuel, was known to the neighborhood
as Uncle Sam; so the person addressed replied
that the boxes appeared, from the "U. S."
painted on them, to belong to Uncle Sam.
Uncle Sam's ammunition was fired at John Bull's
troops and sailors; and Uncle Sam's name pres-
ently extended across the country, and has like-
wise crossed the waters.
THE GOLDEN TOOTH
G OEDEVROUW DOORTJE STOGPENS

sat alone in her little back parlor in a '
little back street of the little town of Albany,
dreaming over the pictures in a meagre fire and
taking comfort in the monotonous tapping of
rain on the window. Her knitting lay in her
lap, and she was debating within herself whether
she would have more pleasure in quaffing a gill
of Hollands, as a sleeping draught, or foregoing
and having so much the more spirits in stock.
A drink avoided was twopence saved, and the
176
saving of twopence was a thing to be seriously
debated. She finally promised herself an extra
allowance at Christmas, and an extra pinch of
snuff at once, as a reward for abstaining, so,
with a sigh of resignation, she arose to prepare
for bed: an operation that in the case of a
Dutch vrouw involved not merely the mysterious
marching and countermarching, the opening and
closing of doors, the moving of furniture, the
overhauling of bureaus, and the displacing of
dry goods in closets that is common in the cerc-
monies which precede retirement in 'Western
households, but the removal of a matter of half
a dozen petticoats, some of them quilted and
lined with silk from China and therefore as
greatly prized as family silver. Not more than
four or five of these garments had been unpinned
when there came a quick, low knock at the door.
"Who is there?" she asked.
"Does the wife of Diederik Stogpens, the
sailor, live here?" was asked, in harsh, weather-
cracked tones outside.
" Yes."
" Then, please let me in."
"I do not know your voice. \Vho are you
1.-12 171
that comes around at this hour?" (Here the
hanging clock struck eight.) "Do you hear
that? Be off with you."
" I am a friend. I bring news of your hus-
band."
" My husband! It's near two years since I've
heard from him." The dame went eagerly to
the door, just as she was, with barely four petti-
coats on, and drew the bolt. A burly, seafaring
sort of person, with a wide head and thick neck,
entered the room, stamped his feet on the sanded
floor to shake the water from his baggy trousers,
and gave his wilted hat a flip that scattered rain
drops to the ceiling. A long queue dangled
between his shoulders, and as he stepped into the
light of her candle the goedevrouw discovered
that her visitor's face was ringed with bedrag-
gled red whiskers that had been the sport of the
winds for nobody could tell how long. He
lounged into I\fadame Stogpens's easy-chair and
put his wet boots into the ashes, causing them
to steam and hiss like a barbecue, and he then
pulled forth a short, rank pipe, and, lighting
it with a coal that he picked up in his thick,
brown fingers, began to utter smoke through his
178
whiskers, as a wood will issue vapor after rain.
"And if you have a noggin of liquor handy,
ma'am," he remarked, " I could persuade myself
to taste it, being that I am chilled with long
travel in the wind and rain."
Poor Doortje 1 She wished now that she had
yielded to the craving of her thirst, but there
was the gin-bottle in plain sight, and how could
she refuse? "N ever mind a cup," said the
stranger. "I'm used to taking it from glass."
'Vhereupon he tilted the nectar into his beard,
and when he offered the bottle again to his
hostess a miracle had been wrought, for, 101 it
was empty.
" Ha 1 That's better," said the salt-looking
person, sinking deeper into the chair, resting his
head on its back, and straddling his legs farther
apart. "So you are the wid-the wife of my
old friend Dirk Stogpens, eh? A mad fellow,
madam-a mad fellow 1"
" Not at all, sir. The steadiest, most
saving--"
" Tut, tut 1 Oh, you mean, at home? I dare
say. But at sea, or in a foreign port, the deepest
drinker, the loudest singer, the hardest swearer,
179
the quickest fighter, the longest at the cards, the
quickest to see a pretty-hm! Eh, hm!" And
the stranger cleared his throat.
" You are wrong, I'm sure. Most likely it is
some other Stopgens. Now, there's a branch of
our family in "\Veehawk."
" No, for he gave me your address before he
left our ship to overhaul a rich-looking stranger
on the Grand Banks."
" Overhaul?"
"Aye. To board her-to capture-to loot-
you understand."
" To capture? But there is no war."
" Haw, haw, haw! And you didn't know Dirk
Stogpens was a privateer? a-what people call
a pirate? a sea-robber?"
"Oh, Dirk! Dirk! How you have deceived
me! But wait till you come h~me!"
" He will never come home. Prepare your-
self, madam, for evil news. He was killed in
the attack on the brig. Ah, we all lamented him.
Yes, you may weep; yet consider how much
wiser it was of him to meet his end battling
stoutly than to come to it at the end of a halter,
as I am like to do unless you shelter me. For
180
your husband's sake, I ask you to hide me for a
few days. I am Captain Kidd."
Though the widow had been drowned in tears
a moment before, at the mention of that dread
name she nearly dropped from fright. "Spare
me! Spare me!" she cried, going on her knees
and lifting her hands in appeal.
",\Vhy, ma'am," replied Kidd, in real sur-
prise, "I'm not going to hurt anybody. Do
yOl'l. think so ill of me as that? Well, I have
been a hard man, no doubt, but I'm not for
pirating in fresh-water towns like Albany. Dirk
has been dead these eighteen months, so it's no
use mourning for him now. And see: here's a
purse of his earnings in our company. Don't
refuse it, ma'am, for there's solid yellow comfort
in it."
The 'Vi dow Stogpens was sooner consoled
than one might have thought, and though she
took the relic with lamentations, she took it
nevertheless, and after a dutiful parley and pro-
test consented to keep the captain in her spare
room in the garret till the search that was
a-making for him should be over. He kept close
for several days, receiving his meals from the
lSI
widow and carefully chewing them on the right
side of his mouth, for on the left side was the
hollow-rather tender-in which he wore the
golden tooth the Devil had given to him when
he burned his Bible. "A golden tooth?" in-
quired the relict, in one of the long conversa-
tions whereby he tried to modify the dreariness
of his seclusion.
" Yes, it gives me the power to turn anything
to gold that I bite upon. I don't know how long
the gift will last, so I've been nibbling a quan-
tity of copper money and tin cups, and my men
buried them the other night over at Coeymans,
on Beeren Island, and at the place they've
already named the Kidden hooghten, near the
mouth of Norman's Kill. So, now, if you've any
such matter as a couple of andirons or a few
dishes you'd like me to change for you, in
the way of pay for my lodging, bring them
in."
And he was as good as his word. Confounded
with the possession of so much wealth, the widow
turned several of her plates into crowns and
squandered them royally on new petticoats,
shoes, buckles, combs, fans, girdles, and lace, to
18!'J
the joyous astonishment of the shopkeepers and
the mystification of her neighbors. Such a
change from the prudence of her ways could not
fail to arouse comment, and Captain Kidd began
presently to be alarmed at the frequency of calls
in the rooms below, and to suffer greatly at
having to contain all the profanity that at other
times had free vent. The Devil's gift was re-
movable, and as Kidd was in the habit of
smoking a short pipe, the tooth would become
unendurably hot after a dozen pulls, so that he
was fain to yank it out and put it on a chest of
drawers to cool. Leaving it there one evening
he sauntered down to the sitting-room for a
glass of Hollands and a toast of his shins at
the fire, when there came a lively rapping at
the door and a scuffle of feet on the walle Sus-
pecting that he had been traced to the house
and was wanted, Kidd flung up a back window,
leaped out upon the turf, and was gone from
Albany, forever. How the widow explained
matters, if it really was a search party,-for it
may have been a church committee to protest
against Dame Stogpens's extravagance,-Kidd
never knew; at least, he never inquired; and
IS3
the next that was heard of him was that he was
hanged.
On the morning after his abrupt disappear-
ance Goedevrouw Stogpens awoke with an odd
feeling in her mouth, and grinning seriously at
herself in the glass she discovered the Devil's
tooth stoutly lodged in a hollow of her jaw.
She bounced out of bed in a trice, picked up her
battered pewter snuff-box and bit upon it. She
cried aloud for joy, for the snuff-box was of
gold. For several minutes she employed herself
with gnawing and gnashing at various small be-
longings, and was in a way to become the rival
in riches of the Rensselaers and Duyckincks and
the other patroons down the river before break-
fast; but a thought came to her that made her
leave biting of her tableware and caused her
to plump into her chair so vehemently that the
breath was shocked out of her for several sec-
onds: The tooth was not movable; it was lodged
fast. How, then, was she to eat? She bit on
a crust and it became as stone. It was gold.
By cautiously stowing her food well over to the
right side of her mouth she managed to get
enough to stay the cravings of appetite, and
184
fortified likewise with a draught of Hollands,
which the tooth had no power to solidify, she
went straight to Petrus Huysmans, the black-
smith, who, for a consideration, would extract
an aching tooth and give his patient full money's
worth in time and pains; and he hauled out the
offending member.
There is no doubt that the Devil put that
tooth into Vrouw Stogpens's jaw in pure kind-
ness of spirit, with which we know him to be
occasionally overcome, and as pay for the good
will she had shown to Captain Kidd, his pet and
pupil. But never accept the Devil's gifts. They
always bring bad luck. True, they may be
forced upon you, as they were on Vrouw Stog-
pens, and in such case a priest and a surgeon
may be needed to help you free. The widow
neglected the parson. Result: the blacksmith
gossiped about her new tooth-a tooth that
dented under his turnkey like metal; that was
yellow, like gold; that left yellow streaks on
the instrument; and other gossips, taking up
the story, enlarged and adorned it until they
had made out the unhappy woman to be a witch,
and yowed they had seen her riding above the
185
roofs on a broomstick on nights when the weather
was thick. Some affected that she had bought
the tooth to replace one she had lost by walking
into her bedpost after putting out the candle,
and one or two discoursed of a new way of
filling hollow teeth with metal; but these af-
fected the prevailing belief not a whit, and,
watched, worried, and .maligned, Vrouw Stog-
pens allowed herself to take a cold, in spite of
her eight petticoats,-later increased to ten,-
and so perished. As for the tooth, it is believed
that she cast it into the fire, and that as it melted
it gave off blue flames that danced up the chim-
ney in the shape of little imps.
THE WHITE LADY OF DOBBS'S FERRY
SOME time before the Revolution a branch

of the family that gave its unromantic
name to Dobbs's Ferry, on the Hudson, was
allured by the original Dobbs across the sea and
built a home on a sightly hill above that hamlet.
For a time the mansion was accounted palatial,
and the occupants spent money with a lavish
hand to increase its beauty. Those who mowed
1M
the lawns and trained the flowers about it were
hired from the little farming settlements near
by, and when they went down to the tavern for
a mug and a pipe, or went home on Saturday
night to get a clean shirt and read the Bible,
they were assailed with no end of questions by
their eagerly curious relatives and neighbors.
To live to yourself in the country is to rouse the
protest of everybody within five miles of you.
In the city one may have a certain privacy,
because there are plenty of other people to get
acquainted with and to help in making a noise.
The villages, on the contrary, have so few social
advantages that every resident is expected to do
something for the general entertainment, if it
is only to run over to the next hamlet and collect
gossip.
The occupants of the Dobbs mansion were a
comfortable, law-abiding people, not ascetics by
any means, but they did not invite the neighbors
and did not visit. They had books and music,
dabbled in science, enjoyed gardening, and ap-
peared to be happy. Who, then, was the 'White
Lady? \Vhat was her power to destroy their
home? Did she do it by destroying life? or had
187
she a craft like that of the Pied Piper, to compel
whom she would to follow? She arrived in
broad day, dressed from hat to shoes in white,
and on some ground persuaded the whole family
to go with her to a house near by. They never
went back. N one had seen the woman or the
others pass by any road, or go up or down or
over the river in a boat. The fine house filled
with dust and cobwebs, the lawns and gardens
went to weeds. Twice the glint of a shaded
light was seen in the upper windows, but nothing
was removed, and no footprints could be found
on the rain-softened earth outside. \V11O, then,
and what, was the White Lady?
THE UNDERGROUND STATION
S O near New York that its lights whiten their

night sky, yet separated by so many
marshes, woods, and rocks that they are farther
than by miles removed from the metropolis, the
dwellers among Ramapo Hills have the char-
acter that isolation and rustic living fix upon a
people. Here the last men of the Monsee tribe
came to their end. Here, after the Revolution,
188
came broken soldiers, camp-followers, and men
with a dread of constables, from whom have
sprung the lonely, gypsy-like farmers and hunt-
ers of to-day. Here, just before the Civil War,
were stations in the "underground railroad"
that led from the slave States into Canada, and
the hill-folk were always ready to hide, clothe,
and feed the runaway negroes and send them
rejoicing on their northward way. Some of
these stragglers did not reach the British prov-
inces. Secure in the guard of friendly whites,
they took up homes in caves and cabins and in.
bosky hollows, seldom appearing among men,
and living apart, like troglodytes.
Into these watched and silent hills there came,
on an autumn day, a tall and swarthy man with
a black moustache and imperial, sharp eyes that
looked from under a gray slouch hat-a South-
erner, as you could see, who chewed his cigar
nervously, yet with a determined set of the teeth.
An official-looking document peeped from an
inner pocket of his long coat, and the right skirt
of that garment bulged above the pistol-pocket.
A local worthy who had accompanied him to the
gate of a valley, and who carried a rifle, as if he
189
had expected to stir up game, showed such signs
of fatigue as they neared the hills that the
Southerner dismissed him, contemptuously, and
smiled as he saw with what briskness the tired
constable waded through the herbage homeward.
The stranger took a hearty pull at a flask, ex-
amined a rude chart on a scrap of wrapping
paper, then dropped a little aside from the path,
though keeping it in sight, and struck westward
into the wilderness.
In an hour he had reached the edge of a
clearing where stood a cabin of slabs, and seated
on a stump, in the concealment of a thicket, he
resigned himself patiently to watch. A breeze
sprang up as the sun went low, and the sounds
in the wood increased, the cracking of twigs and
whisking of leaves often causing him to start
and peer cautiously about him. Time dragged.
Nobody entered the hut; nobody left it. He
arose and stretched himself, yawning. As he
did so, his arms were grasped from behind and
brought together with a wrench that nearly
loosened them from the shoulders. He was
flung forward on his face and in an instant his
pistol was plucked from his pocket. He raised
190
his hand; a blow with the pistol-butt broke two
of his fingers.
"Kneel, or I'll shoot!" commanded a voice
behind him. "I know yo', Tom Doggett, an'
I know yo' errand. Give me that paper-that
paper, I say. Yo' po' hound, did yo' think the
law of Alabama was wo'th the ink it took to
write it, in New York? So yo've turned sheriff,
an' yo've taken to chasin' runaway niggahs,
eh? I'm jess a-goin' to give yo' Alabama judge
a proof yo've met me an' tried to do yo' duty.
\Vhen yo' were an ovahseer, eight yeahs ago,
yo' flogged me. Remember that? I'm seven-
eighths white, an' I don't take beatings, but I've
had to wear scars fo' yo', all these eight yeahs.
Bend lowah, an' don't turn, or I'll kill yo'."
The whistle of a big whip sounded and ended
in a crack. Ten blows fell on the sheriff's back
-fierce blows, that tore like knives. "Go back,
now, an' tell yo' people that a niggah thrashed
yo'," added the voice. "An' go back soon, fo'
yo're not safe heah. It's no use to look fo' me.
The larst train by the undahground road leaves
this yar place to-night."
191
THE INDIAN PRINCESS APPLE
N old orchard on the Peter Turner home-

stead, Monroe, New York, has a gnarly
old apple-tree whose fruit is different from that
of any other in the county in that it is splashed
with red from its golden skin to its core; and
it is known as the Indian princess. 'Wild fruit
grew plentifully in the Ramapo Valley a couple
of centuries ago, when Indians abode thereabout,
and among the red residents was that invariable
unfortunate without whom no Indian settlement
was complete: a lover whose sweetheart's father
had refused to become a father-in-law to him.
The old chief-this mistaken mortal was always
an old chief-told his child to discourage the
attentions of the lover, and threatened both of
the young folks with the most substantial kind
of opposition if they attempted any flirting in
his neighborhood. The result was natural and
usual: the young folks cared twice as much for
one another as before, and lost no opportunity
to be together. People became frugal of walk-
ing about in the dark, for fear of falling over
them or bumping into them as they sat or stood
192
in the shade clasping hands and sighing over the
parent's sternness, and the match was secretly
and naturally helped along by all the gossips
in the village. But the day of discovery and
reckoning arrived. The old chief came upon
them as they were walking hand-in-hand through
the wood and ordered the girl to return to her
wigwam. The lover folded his arms and awaited
her decision. She looked from one to the other
for a moment, then ran to her lover's arms. The
father said never a word, but bent his bow and
sent an arrow quivering into his daughter's side.
She sank quietly to the earth, nevermore breath-
ing, and the father strode away. Something
ought to have happened to him afterwards, but
if it did the legends of his people do not record
it. Just where the girl was put to death a wild
apple-tree was springing, and its roots drank up
her blood. At fruiting-time the blood drops
show in the juicy globes.
1.-13 193
THE BLUE SKANEATELES
FLOOD legends are world-wide, and those

retained by our Northern Indians are in
nowise evidence of their early relation to the
lost tribes of Israel. That relation has a better,
or more plausible, grounding in the observance
among the Iroquois of the rite of circumcision,
in the offering of deer-meat and first fruits to
the Deity, as in the green-corn dance, and in the
likeness of the Indian names for God to the
Hebrew titles, as witness, Ya, Abba, and Ye-
howa. Their sages and medicine-men often
recall the Biblical patriarchs, for, like them,
they had moments of supernatural power. They
tell, for instance, of medicine-men who could
bring down men or brutes by pointing at them,
or by commanding in a loud, imperious voice that
they fall dead. Tales of an ark, of a bird re-
turning to it after a search for land, of a
destruction of wicked towns by fire, are analo-
gous to incidents described in the Old Testa-
ment. In the Indian stories of flood subsidence,
however, local traditions are often at variance,
but several of them tell of the splitting of the
194
I
hills that pent waters might flow away and seek

the sea. The Six Nations believed tIlat the Great
Spirit-the Invisible Hand-drained the Gene-
see country of its water, only the narrow, finger-
shaped cluster of lakes remaining. Skaneateles
Lake is deep blue, and they said that when the
heavens used to be nearer to the earth than they
are now the sky spirits leaned out of their home
to admire themselves in this mirror. The lake
spirit fell in love with them and absorbed the
color of their robes into the water, so that it is
of a fine, deep blue to this day.
THE ONONDAGA FAIRIES

T HE Onondagas are a dull, peaceful, farm-
ing people who occupy a reservation of
six thousand fertile acres in central New York.
Their pristine wildness has disappeared, they
are noted for honesty and do not beat their chil-
dren. 'While missionaries have striven Witll them
and induced a nominal acceptance of Chris-
tianity, they continue some of their pagan
dances and ceremonies, and little is done to
make them better workmen. Hiawatha, or
Hoyawentha, greatest of Indians, they claim
195
as their tribesman, and say that he was born
near the end of the sixteenth century. Among
the old faiths that have survived the chapel and
the school is a belief in f aides: little people
who abounded near Palatine Bridge, and were
known as "stone throwers," in spite of their
kindly disposition. Men now living seriously
declare that they have seen them, and that they
could appear and vanish at pleasure.
A hunter who lived in the seventeenth century
enjoyed the good will of these elves and for no
reason save that his ill-luck aroused their com-
passion. He had been absent on the chase for
some days, but nothing had fallen beneath his
hand. Tired and discouraged, he sank down in
the wood to rest; but becoming aware of a
presence, he looked up and saw a very small
woman standing beside him. She bade him be
cheered, for he should find gold and silver, such
as the white traders liked, and should kill as
many animals as he pleased; that he had but
to call them and they would offer themselves to
his knife. He seems to have neglected the gold
and silver, but he always had his dinner when
he wanted it, after that meeting.
196
In later times a feeble old woman, while walk-
ing with her grandchild, met one of the fairies,
who commiserated with her upon her rheuma-
tism and her bent back, and told her to order the
child to walk on, that he might not see the gift
she would confer upon her. After the boy had
passed some rods along the road the fairy
handed a comb to the beldam and bade her use
it. The old woman did so, and noticed at each
passage of the implement through her grizzled
locks that the hair was growing darker and
darker. She felt of her face and broke into a
joyous laugh, for the wrinkles were leaving her
brow and her skin was becoming softer and
smoother; she was growing young. Had she
kept silence the transformation would, in a few
minutes, have been complete, for it appears need-
ful that supernatural gifts shall not be ques-
tioned nor too closely noticed. But at the sound
of her laugh the child, who was running among
the trees in advance, stopped and looked back.
This broke the spell. With a wailing cry,
"Dear child, you ha\'e destroyed me!" the
woman fell dead.
197
GREYCOURT'S LITTLE HISTORY
DANIEL CROMLINE, the first settler in

Greycourt, New Y ork,-a man of distinc-
tion, because his log cabin had doors and floors
of planed boards,-was in New York on the day
when a ship came in from the other side of the
sea. He wanted to buy a laborer. In those
days men and women were sold for debt and
were slaves to the man who furnished the amount
they owed, until they had repaid the sum by
work. 'William Bull, a young Irishman, was one
of the passengers, and he was in hot dispute with
the captain of the ship anent an overcharge for
passage-money. The skipper had told him on
sailing that five guineas-all he had-would
cover the cost of the trip, but on arriving in
America he informed Bull that this was not
enough, and that he would be set at work for
some one who would make up the deficiency.
Bull answered that he would pay never another
penny-he had no more-and demanded to be
taken back on the same ship, saying, " I'll be a
slave in Ireland, if I must be a slave at all."
Cromline saw and liked the lad, paid the over-
19B
charge to the rapacious captain, and took Bull
horne with him. The young fellow became, in
time, a landed proprietor near Duck Cedar,
which is now by the elect called Tuxedo. There
was no other white resident in that part of the
wild Shawangunk Hills at the time, except Sarah
Wells, who had been sold to a Long Island
farmer and had removed here after working out
her freedom. The Indians, pitying ller lonely
state, had built a cabin for her, telling her that
she need seek no farther for a home site; more-
over, they supplied maize and vension whenever
her supplies ran short, and she was in a fair way
to become an Indian herself, when Bull arrived
on the scene. Both being of the white race, they
naturally made a mutual offer of friendly ser-
vices, and that they should eventually fall in love
with one another is no great wonder, either.
That is what happened. Bull proposed mar-
riage, but explained that, as he was of the Epis-
copal faith, it would be necessary to publish the
bans before the knot could be tied-a condition
that gave rise to anxieties until the magistrate
who was to perform the ceremony complied with
it, to the satisfaction of both concerned, by going
199
to the door and bawling into the wilderness, " If
anyone objects to the marriage of William Bull
and Sarah Wells, let him speak, or hold his peace
forever after." He went back, shut the door,
waited a minute and repeated the call. The
third summons brought no answer, so in due
time the twain were united.
There was a wedding-feast with much deer
meat, corn, wild fruits, and fermented honey,
and hunters and border-men from the country
round were guests, in their rough, fringed dress
and unfringed manners, and the fiddler, who had
come all the way from Jersey, played with irre-
sistible dash, and all jigged it riotously; and
thus was begun the long and prosperous career
of the family of Bull. The log house where the
ceremony occurred still stands near Goshen.
The Cromline house, being on the road to New
Jersey, became an inn, and had for its sign a
wooden oval with a picture of a goose on one
side and King George III on the other. Stout
brandy, smoking flip, and beguiling punch were
served across its bar alike to Whigs, Tories,
neutrals, Indians, and every other sort during
the dark days of war that followed, presently;
200
but when the success of the American arms ap-
peared to be certain, everything English had to
go, even the "crown stone" that had been
brought from the old country for Goshen jail,
and which an enthusiastic patriot destroyed with
a hammer. The portrait of the royal George
was sedulously neglected. The once brilliant
coat and countenance faded in the summer suns
and winter storms until the figure was ridiculed
by the country-folk as "old gray coat." So in
time the tavern itself came to be known as the
Gray Coat Inn. Presently came in people from
the towns who represented the Virtues, especially
that of the Mode, and they saw that it would
never do to have their friends address letters to
Gray Coat, so they solemnly changed the name
to Greycourt, which sounds correct, though of
course there is no court of gray or any other
color within miles.
f201
THE GOOD BIRD SPIRIT
IN the country called Kayaderossera, in and

about Saratoga, N ew York, are many battle-
grounds where tribes of old contended for su-
premacy. The fields about the healing waters
that in our time are every summer resorted to by
thousands were held by the Mohawks and they
were under the protection of many manitous,
none of whom were more kind than the good
bird spirit. Though usually wearing the form
of a white dove, the manitou would take the
shape of an enemy and suffer itself to be killed,
when it would rise again in its bird shape, guide
the straggler back to his camp, and even restore
the dead to life. A hunter who had missed the
trail and was wandering through the forest saw
a gray owl on a branch that overhung him, and
heard its hoot. It is a common belief that in
the rare accident of an Indian's losing his way
some evil influence is working against him, that
he is doomed to wander in a circle till he is
exhausted, the circles growing smaller as he
nears the place of the demon. To his excited
fancy this bird was a fiend and was mocking his
f.!O;.J
distress. He slipped an arrow on his bow-string
and shot the creature through. It fell fluttering
to the earth, where he would have dispatched
it with his axe had not a dove sprung from the
body and soared aboye his head. The brooding
clouds broke away, the hunter's moon struck its
light through the branches, making the new snow
to sparkle, and the despair in the man's heart
gave way to thankfulness, for he realized that
he had been rescued by the spirit of the wood;
aud, following his guide in its slow flight, he
presently emerged on the shore of Saratoga
Lake at the point where he had left his canoe
three days before.
Among most Indian tribes physical courage is
the highest virtue, and young men must endure
injuries and disfigurements to prove their
bravery. If they fail, they suffer the contempt
of men and women alike. In the old days girls
as well as young men had to prove their strength
and ability to suffer uncomplainingly, that it
might be known if they were fit to become the
wives of fighters and mothers of heroes. Sara-
toga Lake was a frequent scene of these tests,
for it was customary to force the maidens, in
!?03
their thirteenth year, to swim from the mouth of
Kayaderosscras River to the Hill of Storms, now
called Snake Hill. The Mohawks were never
a stronger people than when they gathered at
this water to see the daughter of their chief, his
only child, cross it, or drown in the attempt as
one not worthy to be a princess. In the moon
of green corn the day had been set. The father
led the girl to the canoe that was to take her to
the other shore and bade her be of good heart.
She paddled across, disembarked, tossed off her
clothing, and plunged, boldly, lightly, into the
lake, the old man watching for her, anxiously.
It was a long way, the wind had veered so as to
baffie the swimmer, and waves were rising. Her
progress grew slower and slower. She turned on
her back and floated for a little to regain breath
and strength, thus drifting away again. It was
plain that she was exhausted. Feebly moving
forward once more, she began her death-song.
Her father's face was a picture of woe. Sud-
denly, a shout of astonishment from the people:
a great eagle, darting from the clouds, struck
his talons into her hair and tried to lift her. She
caught Mm by the legs, then both disappeared
;Z04.
beneath the surface. A moan came from the
company, then a cry of gladness. Out of the
dark water a dove had flown, and, rising to her
feet in a shallow, the girl had reappeared.
'While wading to the shore, where a score of
arms were held toward her, the dove circled,
then alighted on her head and remained there
until she had reached firm ground. The sudden
rack of pain and joy was too much for her
father. With a look of gratitude at the sky,
into which the dove was now ascending, he ceased
to breathe. So the girl was queen of the .Mo-
hawks, and for long after it was the daughter,
not the son, who succeeded to the chieftaincy.
The dove became the tribal totem. /
Once, in the moon of roses, five hundred ~Io
hawks marching northward met a party of Al-

gonquins coming from Canada. The Mohawks,
/
who were of that great family, the Iroquois,
"the Romans of the 'Vest," were on ill terms
with their neighbors of the cold lands, calling
them Adirondacks (tree-eaters), because when
game was scarce in the biting winters they
stripped the trees of buds, gum, and inner bark, /
for food. It was near the site of Ballston that
205
/
they met this time, and a fight began at once.
While it raged an eagle, sniffing blood and
hoping to find prey among creatures so wasteful
of life, hovered above the field, now trampled
and sodden with gore, yet only an hour ago a
flowery meadow, sweet smelling and peaceful in
the sun. Weary with its flight it settled on a
pine as the day was ending, and still watched
the exhausted savages as they struck and par-
ried, and shot, and slew, and scalped. Its
screams had given heart to both armies, but now
they began to believe that it was an evil creature
who had lured them to this slaughter. As by
common consent the bowmen on both sides shot
a flight of arrows at the bird; so many that
arrows followed one another through the same
wound. Directly that it had fallen into the deep
grass a shining dove arose from the spot and
perched on the branch from which the eagle had
fallen: the good bird spirit; the dove of peace.
Arrows that were being fitted to the bows
dropped to the ground. The men seemed as if
waking from an ugly dream. The chiefs moved
toward each other, their heads hung in sorrow
as they looked on the corpses of their brothars
~06
slain in useless rage for a feud of forgotten
origin. There ,,'as a long talk. Then both
sides gathered around a fire and smoked the
pipc of friendship. Because of the killing on
that day the stream whose waters ran red is still
the Mourning Kill.
THE LOVERS UNITED
I N the summer the high ground of Yaddo, Sar-

atoga, was occupied by Mohicans, who went
to drink the medicine waters and break the heads
of the Mohawks. The latter claimed ownership
of the region; not that they wanted it, or used
it, or needed it, but it servcd as well as anything
else to fight about. One summer the Mohawks /
were absent, pounding the lives out of some dis-
tant relatives, and the Mohicans, finding them- J
selves pleasantly neglected, made their camp
near a beaver-dam on the Little Tassawassa.
The time was auspicious for a June wedding;
therefore 'Vequagan, who was a chief,-like )
every other Indian whose name has been saved
to us,-was married to Awonunsk,-like every
other Indian girl whose name has appeared in
!
~07
/
the papers,-another chief's daughter. Di-
rectly after the ceremony the ' bride crossed
the beaver-pond, with several of her friends,
to gather strawberries for the wedding-feast.
In tllOse simple times brides did not expect to
be waited on much, nor did they take long
bridal tours. \Vhile the women were gather-
ing the fruit a shrill yell was heard, followed
by the screams of Awonunsk and her friends as
they ran to regain their canoes. The Mohawks
had return cd.
All of the women on the farther bank were
slain or captured, cxcept thc bride, who reached
her boat, and all the Mohicans within sound of
the hubbub ran to the pond. They were in time
to see thc girl send her birch out on the water
with a vigorous push and ply her paddle, closely
pursued in another canoe by a big Mohawk.
This fellow was clever enough to keep himself
in line with his intendcd victim, so that her
friends should not shoot for fear of harming her.
They might as well have done so, for he soon
caught up with her and at a range of only a
few yards sent an arrow through her body.
Looking into her husband's eyes, with an agony
208
American .l \lyths and Legends
of appeal in her face, she held her arms toward
him, toppled into the lake, and disappeared.
Avengement was swift, for in another second
the twang of fifty bowstrings sounded, and the
murderer pitched into the water, dead.
The bereaved husband stood for a long time
on the bank, while reddened waves lapped at his
feet and a black mist came lowering. A blight
seemed suddenly to have fallen on the place.
N ext day it was the same, and the next. Trees
withered and the clouds hung down; the game
fled to the hills, and the Mohawks, having begun
the war in a usual and infernal fashion, kept at
it until they had driven the Mohicans back
across the Hudson and the pond was deserted.
Yet every summer, in the moon of strawberries,
'Vequagan secretly returned to look at the spot
which his saddest and happiest hours had sancti-
fied to him. Years passed. He became an old
man. The last time he returned to the beaver-
pond his hair was white, his face was wrinkled.
He was as one waiting for death. He stood on
the shore, a few followers at his side, and peered
into the mist that still hung upon the water.
Presently a brightness began to disperse the
1.-14 ~09
dark, and the mist, lifting, showed Awonunsk,
in the bloom of youth and shining like the moon.
All pain had vanished from her face, and with
a smile of love she seemed as if advancing to
meet her husband. He with a cry of joy stag-
gercd two steps toward her and fell dead on the
sand. Now the dark mist was torn by a bar of
sunlight, and the watchers heard music, falling
from the sky. A form, in likeness of their chief,
but young and strong, arose through the waves
beside Awonunsk, and the two were entwined in
each other's arms. They asccnded softly, as
vapors drift from pools at dawn, and melted
into sunlight. And the shadows never rested OIl
that spot again.
POKE-O'-MOONSHINE
o N~
IS
of our few satisfying mountain names
Poke-o'-Moonshine, or Peekamoon-
shine, in thc Adirondacks, thc rule having
been to burden our hills with a nomenclature
either foolish or commonplace. In this lonely
height is a cave with a crack in the roof through
which, in ccrtain phases of thc moon, a ray of
:iHO
light will enter; and this peek or peep or poke
of moonshine has given a name to the mountain
itself. In 1757 a young Huguenot noble, Fran-
~ois du Bois, came to America to join his regi-
ment in Canada. He came the more willingly
because he knew that his sweetheart, Clemence
La Moille, would presently follow him, for her
father had incurred the dislike of certain politi-
cal enemies and had been virtually banished
from the kingdom. And, true enough, it was
not long ere Emil Le Moille and his daughter
left their home, forever. From New Rochelle,
where they lived for a little time, they went
northward with an Indian guide and eventually
settled in a lovely yalley, east of Lake Cham-
plain, on the bank of that river now called La
Moille. Clemence found a way to let her lover
know their whereabouts. He ascended the lake
at that time with Montcalm's force, which some
days later attacked the English near Lake
George, and no doubt he cast a longing eye at
the peaceful hills that walled Champlain on its
eastern side, for somewhere among them his
lady awaited him.
Possibly he did not then imagine that in a
211
few days he should be seeking her, a disgraced
and heart-sick soldier, but so it fell out. Truth
is, he had little stomach for his business. He
was less in love with war than with Clemence;
being Protestant, he could not sympathize heart-
ily with the scheme of a Catholic government
against a Protestant people; and especially he
loathed the brutalities that the Indians com-
mitted under permission of his fellow-officers.
The horrible massacre that followed the French
victory on Lake George ended his endurance.
He stole away from camp at night, found a
canoe, and in a few days he had reached the La
Moille cabin, weak, discouraged, but with no
jot of his love abated. He did not dare to meet
the father. Exile though he was, the old man
still revered his France and loved his old pro-
fession of arms. When he learned that this
proposed son-in-law was a deserter he would
spurn him indignantly from his presence.
But with the girl it was otherwise. Du Bois
gained audience with her, and with pity for his
mental and bodily suffering mingled with her
love she sheltered him. The French army would
soon be returning toward the St. Lawrence, and
~19
he might be seen, chased, captured, and impris-
oned, if not shot. Clemence lived almost as free
a life as an Indian, and she was a wilful girl
withal. It was an easy matter to absent herself
for a day or two from home. In a night journey
across the lake the young couple reached a trail
leading into the fastnesses of the Adirondacks,
and there Clemence left Franc;ois, after direct-
ing him how he should reach Poke-o'-Moonshine,
and promising to join him so soon as she could
replenish their ammunition and recover some of
her belongings.
A few days later she kissed her father and
said she was going upon the lake. She never
returned. Her dog reached home that evening
with a letter in his collar, but rain or dew had
made it illegible. Years afterward old La
:Moille, while hunting in the mountains, took
shelter from a storm in the grotto of Poke-o'-
Moonshine. The tempest lasted so long that he
gave up the thought of leaving it that night,
so he made himself comfortable and went to
sleep. In the small hours he awoke to see a
slender ray of moonlight falling through a chink
in the rock. It rested on a scrap of gold lace
213
from a military coat, and on a necklace-his
daughter' s. 'Vas he dreaming? He reached out
and took the pearls into his hand. They were
real. Had the cave become the tomb of the
young pair? Had they fallen victim to bears
or panthers? It will never be known. But the
cross that stood at the cave door for years after
has banned all shadows, and the figures that
glide over Lake Onewaska by moonlight are said
to be Franc;ois and Clemence.
THE NIAGARA THUNDER GOD
i\..~ Indian girl who lived on the shore of

Niagara a little way above the cataract
had been promised in marriage in the good old
Indian fashion-shared, sometimes, by the Euro-
pean aristocracy-to a man she hated. The
wedding-day had dawned, and though no church-
bells were ringing, the people were gathering for
the festival. The bridegroom, ill-favored, self-
ish, and snrly, but for that hour all smiles, re-
plied with jests to the broad raillery of his
acquaintances. From the shade of her wigwam
the unhappy maid looked out upon the group.
914
Amcrican l\Iyths anu Legenus
She noted the air of casy triumph in the man
who would presently command her, whom she
would be forced to seryc for the rest of her
life, for whom she must cook and drudge, whose
clothing she must make, whosc bed of furs she
must prepare, whose lodgc she must strike and
raise again, whosc weapons she must dccorate,
whose dogs she must feed. A strong shudder
went through her. She could not-would not
be his wife.
Stealing softly from the wigwam she reached
the rivcr edge and looked back. The face of
her lord-to-be was lower, more imbruted than
ever, as he smiled meaningly on the people who
congratulated him. Yes; death was better than
life with him. Death it should be. She stepped
into her canoe, pushed it from the shore, threw
away the paddle, and resigned herself to the
current. Some moments passed. The little boat,
drifting idly at first, began to move with ever-
increasing rapidity. From a distance behind her
she heard a cry of dismay. She had been seen
by her people. In answer she began her death-
song. Those behind it heard, more and more
faintly-faintly-then silence. She was fairly
!:?15
American IVIyths and Legends
in the power of the river. The shores were
hurrying by. Had she any thought of trying
to make the shore it was now too late. A vast
yet distant roaring could be heard, growing
louder every moment. The rapids were near-
the long hurry of water leading to the plunge
of the green flood into the abyss. The sky lay
on the top step of the rapids as she looked down-
stream. Anon the billows pulsed beneath her
and heaved the canoe and dropped it with sick-
ening force and quickness. The slope deepened,
the turmoil of waters was deafening, yet the
growl of the cataract sounded through it. Over
that fearful brink she must pass to liberty.
Those clouds, boiling upward from the pit, would
hide the last scene in the tragedy. No eye of
a chance hunter would see her mangled form
when it was hurled against the rocks. The boat
leaped forward. It was the last-the last. The
prow hung above the chasm, the vast slide of
water curled at the edge of the cliff. She leaped
to her feet, with a cry, and shot into the void.
But not to death. Heno, the thunderer, rising
in the mist, had, seen her. He held forth his
arms, and into them the girl fell, safely and
216
American :l \iyths and Legends
softly. Stepping through the water-curtain,
protecting her from its rush and weight, he
seated her on a bench of rock. She was in a
great cavern behind the fall and the deluge
tempered the day to a drowsy twilight. This
place was her home thenceforward. Heno cared
for her as for a daughter, and in time she mar-
ried one of his strong sons, to whom she bore a
beautiful child that became an associate thun-
derer with Heno. For her sake the god was
kind to her people. When pestilence appeared
he lifted her to the shore, that she might tell
them to leave their villages and go to a higher
country. It was the great serpent, she told them,
who had poisoned the water they drank and
would slay them if they stayed. Hardly had
they left Niagara before the snake appeared,
all green and white, and trailing his body
through miles of country, like a river. He had
slept after poisoning the watcr, but was hungry
now, and would feed on their bodies. On find-
ing their camp deserted he hissed with wrath,
and the hissillg was like the rush of the rapids.
He would have followed the tribe, but Heno,
looking from the mists, saw the creature, and
Z17
American l\:1yths and Legends
with a thunderbolt struck him dead. The huge
mass floated down the stream and lodged above
the cataract, a fold in its body deflecting the
larger volume of water to the Horseshoe fall,
which was made curving and deep on that day.
Heno's home was destroyed by the flood thus
centred at that point, and, assembling all of his
children and the Indian girl, he arose with them
to the heavens, where he thunders in the cloud-
mists as he once did in the vapors from the fall.
Yet, though he lives in the skies, an echo of his
voice is always sounding at Niagara.
THE DEATH ON THE PALISADES
MANITOU reared the Palisades of the

Hudson that they might hide his dwell-
ing on the top from the eyes of men who hunted
and fished and pried alollg the river, the Algon-
quin, or Leni-Lenape, "first men," having
already come from the West to plant their vil-
lages by the sea. The Iroquois had promised
that they might pass through the Mississippi
country to reach this Eastern land of fabled
wealth, without offering war; yet, like all east-
!cZlS
American .Myths ana Legends
ward migrations in history, this was a failure,
for the Iroquois, seeing the large numbers of
the moving tribe, feared that the prairies would
be taken from them, and, suddenly r~voking the
permission, they fell upon and destroyed the
Leni-Lenape in thousands. ;\Iany of the latter
reached the sea, however, and spread over the
mountain belt, where they were ever afterward
the enemies of the Iroquois.
Hence, in after years, it argued a high cour-
age in the young chief from Niagara to pene-
trate to the heart of his foeman's land; but
love gives that courage, and he had seen in a
dream a girl so fair that he could not abide in
peace one hour until he had found her. His
dream had told him where she was, and, gather-
ing his arms and paint, he said farewell to his
people and began his long walk toward the
rising sun. Seven days and almost seven nights
he walked and ran and swam, and then he
climbed the easy shoreward ascent of IHanitou's
wall, and came out at the brink of the cliff, five
hundred feet above the great river, near the
spot where Hudson afterward repelled a hun-
dred Manhattans with a cannon-shot, and oppo-
919
site the hill where the yank heer built the manor
that was to grow into the city of Yonkers.
He resolved to emblazon his arms, or totem,
on the rock, and had already sketched the out-
line when a deer bounded by, with a Leni-Lenape
in pursuit. In an instant the painter had lifted
himself back to the edge of the cliff, and in a
few seconds was fiercely wrestling with the
hunter. N either gaining much advantage, the
hunter proposed a truce until he could gather
his people, that they might see how both of
them could die like fighters. The Iroquois con-
sented, and employed the time of his foeman's
absence in finishing his totem in the brightest
pigments. Then he flung his axe and spear into
the river and waited, his many-colored belt bound
tight upon him. With a rush of many footsteps
came the Leni-Lenape, bursting through the
bushes, bounding over the rocks, and glaring in
hatred on the intruder. He arose, faced them
defiantly, and began his vaunting death-song,
mingled with sneers and curses for his enemies.
Another rushing sound, this time of arrows, with
the twang of a hundred bow-cords, and the
young chief stood before them studded with
ggO
darts. He swayed, but almost as he was in the
act of falling a new life seemed to enter him,
and he sprang erect, with eyes fixed in admira-
tion on a face at the edge of the scowling multi-
tude, a face that had longing and pity in it, the
face of his dreams. Before he could speak the
young man whom he had engaged ran forward
to him. "I am herc," cricd thc hunter, and
picking the Iroquois up in his arms, as he would
have raised an infant, he sprang into space, and
kept his promise.
PANTHER CHIEF OF THE SENECAS
WHITE THUNDER, leader of the Sene-

cas when they occupied their lands in
what is now "Western New York, was a chief of
strength and wisdom, who was always against
war,-not that he was timid, but because he was
old and wise and knew what war meant in suf-
fering, waste, and carnage. Yet his people did
not always reason, but were swayed by their
passions; and after years of inactivity they
longed for battIe. Even the wife of White
Thunder felt angered and disgraced by her
991
American :lVlyths and Legends
husband's peaceful preaching, and once, in the
silence of the woods, she begged that the Great
Spirit would give to her people a chief who
could be as fierce and bloody as a panther.
A storm was rising as she left the forest. The
pines were swaying and moaning, and it seemed
as if through the noise she could hear the growl
and snarl of beasts. Fallen leaves whirled into
spirals in the clearings and the dancing masses
suggested the forms of animals of prey. The
lake, which she reached presently, was lapping
and hissing against the rocks, and the sounds
were like the drinking and spitting of a lynx.
Great eyes seemed to roll and glare in the open-
ings of the cloud that deepened and hurried
overhead. A curious possession of fear, alien
to her savage nature, came upon the woman, and,
drawing her robe about her head, she ran
toward her lodge. Before she could reach the
village, however, the rains began to pour, and a
bolt of fire, hurled from the sky, rived the tallest
pine in the wood. For shelter she climbed a
bank to the protection of a ledge, and there,
reclining on a couch of moss and feeling that
the storm would last for hours, she fell asleep.
~~~
In a dream she fancied that she had penetrated
the wood to a greater deep than she had ever
seen before, and had there discovered a giant
panther, crouched and watchful, his eyes gleam-
ing, his lips drawn back, his tail switching, and
his hams quivering with impulse for a spring.
And the meaning of her prayer came to her,-
that her people might have a chief who should
be as a panther in his thirst for blood and lack
of any gentleness. The autumn passed, and in
the winter the woman bore a child. And the
look of that child was the look of a ferocious
beast. ·White Thunder scowled as he saw his
offspring, and said, " You have your wish. This
child shall be named the Little Panther. He
shall lead my people to their death." And it
was so.
As the boy grew he became e,'en more a brute
in looks; and his ways were the ways of the
panther, too,-seeret, slinking, bloody, and full
of greed. He lived only for war. He was
unceasing in his strife. Hundreds of his fel-
lows he led to death, that he might give death
to his enemies. He prowled the woods alone
when he could command no following, and
2.23
burned and harried and slew, sparing neither
the aged nor the sick nor the babes nor the
women. And the name of Seneca was hated in
the land. His people were ashamed of Little
Panther; and when they saw his green eyes
peering at them from the shadow, they feared
him, too. But his days were to be short,-for,
meeting a panther among the hills and trying to
kill it, he lost his own life. And his people gave
thanks to the Great Spirit.
THE SPOOKS OF SCHOOLEY'S

MOUNTAIN
IT is not so very long ago that you could find

ghosts in New Jersey. There may be a few
left to-day. Some of them must have gone there
to enjoy one another's society and escape those
doubters of :New York, Philadelphia, and other
godless places who were forever running their
hard heads against graveyard facts known to
every beldam and every school-boy elsewhere in
the land. What! Had these infidels never
heard of the spooks that guard the buried treas-
!il!il4
.American .Myths and Legends
nre of the beaches ? Would they deny that the
mark of a spirit-hand was left on the chest of
a reveller in Andoyer, and that he reformed his
ways in a night? Could they affirm that Black-
beard had not stowed a fortune in coin and
jewels under the Pirate's Tree in Burlington,
or that witches did not dance about the big
willow in the same village on squally nights?
Because a deacon of the Presbyterian Church, a
sober, soh-ent man, had seen the witches, and as
to Blackbeard-well, a couple of adventurous
fellows one night started to dig for his gold.
They had turned up three or four feet of soil
about the roots of the ancient walnut when a
well-like opening was uncovered, and, looking
down, they could see, in a cavern lighted by a
throbbing, ruddy glow, the old villain himself,
with his beard in curl-papers, sprawling on his
jars of money and glaring up at the intruders
with blue fire in his eyes. Yelling with terror,
the countrymen leaped out of the pit and flew
to their home, staying neither for fences, rocks,
nor bushes in their determination to get there by
the straightest way. Arrived among their peo-
ple, they told their fearsome tale with chattering
I.-Ui
jaws, though their parchment jowls and gog-
gling eyes told it better. "Look," they cried,
" at the hell-flame rising!" And for an instant
a shaft of dull light was seen hanging in the
murky air between sky and earth; then it faded,
and in the morning there was no mark of pick
or spade about the Pirate's Tree.
Ah, yes; you say these things don't happen
now; that the Indian chiefs, long since atten-
uated to blue vapor, never more stand on the
bluffs of 'Weehawken and meditate on their de-
parted greatncss; and the tunnels of the Bona-
parte house in Bordentown-the only American
village that ever had a king for a citizen-may
shelter rats, but the people who whisper that
shadows of the Corsicans have been seen there
are people of indifferent morals and low degree.
This is doubtless true, for ghosts cannot abide
factories, locomotives, breweries, and trolley-
cars, and houses with steam heat and exposed
plumbing do not interest them. But it was dif-
ferent a hundred years ago. \Ve had not then
set ourselves with such energy to make it impos-
sible for the departed to visit us, when they
took a notion, by scaring them into smoke-
~96
wreaths with our blazing arc-lights, shattering
them apart with our earth-shaking railroad
trains, and frightening them back to their tombs
by the worse than spectral horrors of sensational
newspapers.
And it was because they had spectres in New
Jersey that Ransford Rogers tramped away
from Connecticut to "lay" them and relieve the
anxieties of the citizens. Rogers was atllicted
with youth. Something of the ligneous quality
of the nutmegs they manufactured in his State
pertained to his countenance, especially to that
part of it which in these days of low language
would be named his cheek. Yet, he had been a
school-master in his own State, and in common
estimation had learned many things the gaping
public might never hope to master. Rumor said
he had studied chemistry, and in his natiye vil-
lage had been known to work far into the night
- a fearful thing in itself, where righteous peo-
ple were abed by nine, and doubly fearful when
the work was associated with blue lights seen
through chinks in the blind, evil smells, and
uncanny noises. He did not deny the rumor;
he was complacent under its imputations when it
297
followed him to Morristown, and it cannot be
doubted that it raised him in the regard of many
burghers in that village when he chose it as his
place of abode in 1788. For the jar of the late
war had hardly driven out of mind the evil
doings of Mother Meechum, the witch, and
should her successor appear, why, here was
safety in a man who could exorcise in college
Latin, and could draw the true figure of Solo-
mon's seal on the earth before a stable when the
cows were possessed with devils. Mother Mee-
chum, having a compact with the powers of
iniquity, might have lived like a queen, but it
betokens the vulgar nature of witches that they
ask nothing in return for their souls but the
knack of keeping butter from coming in the
churn, of breaking sheep's legs as they lie in
the fold, of spreading sickness among cattle,
and of making pigs to look in at house windows
and whisper words of an unknown language.
The Yankee pedagogue and the new parson
ought to be a match for all the witches in the
country, if not for the ghosts, the neighbors
said.
Rogers had learned of the attcmpt to resurrect
ZZS
Blackbeard's hoard, and he proposed to rencw
the enterprise, promising to use his strongest
Latin and even some phrases in Chaldee on the
spectre in curl-papers, but the previous expe-
rience had been too terrifying, and he could not
win a volunteer. There was another mine of
guineas and doubloons, however, on Schooler's
(now called Schooley's) Mountain, and if only
-Hm! There are various ways of gaining
treasure upon earth, and it takes more than one
ghost to get the better of a Connecticut Yankee.
Our pedagogue encouraged the citizens of
~rorristown to tell the fiend and phantom tales
of their vicinage until they had so frightened
themselves that they dared not go home alone
after their evening sessions in the grocery, and
he embroidered upon their narratives strange
happenings in his own experience that deepened
their chills and apprehensions. When he had
reduced them almost to a gibbering humility he
would cast out large rumors of the possibilities
of Schooler's Mountain. They had found a part
of Kidd's treasure on Shelter Island. Did it
not behoove them, as men of mark and mettle,
to recover from the feeble sprites on the hills
229
the larger wealth that pirates had hidden there,
and, by so doing, likewise to drive the spectres
forever from the region? For himself, he did
not care. He rather enjoyed the company of
the dead. A ghost? What was it, after all?
The mere shadow of a pirate, slain to guard the
gold. A shadow! Pooh! He knew words and
ceremonies-he would say nothing now, but the
time would come when they might wish they had
been his partners. Did he say partners? He
might have used the word. And, if it came to
that, why not partners? Why not a company?
Why not a mutual trust in the exploitation of
this treasure? If they really insisted, Mr.
Rogers would do all that he could for such a
company, but-it would be expensive.
Forty residents of Morristown agreed to en-
dure the expense, and, having been sworn to
secrecy, were invited to meet :Mr. Rogers, Master
of the Spirits, in the woods on the mountain, at
midnight, to learn from the lips of the spectres
themselves what would be a fair assessment.
Mr. Rogers went about town, presently, with
his cocked hat a trifle on one side and silver
buckles on his Sunday shoes, which he now wore
i!gO
e,'ery day. He se,'eral times paid cash at the
grocery, when the proprietor was strenuous, and
he no longer soothed the tavern-keeper with
promises. Any unworthy suspicions that may
have been indulged by these gentlemen were
therefore swallowed in silence.
History is a littlc shy as to what occurred for
awhile after the formation of the Schooler's
~lountain Spook-laying and Treasure-lifting
Company, Limited, for its meetings were con-
ducted with great secrecy, and .i\1r. Rogers re-
quested, as a favor, that the small preliminary
loans that the other members adnlllced to him
might be treated as personal and confidential
affairs, not to be mentioned to the other mem-
bers, At the meeting in the wood he was as
impressiye as a promontory. He called aloud in
Latin, and a creature from nowhere leaped into
the lighted circle and pranked about, moaning
and muttering in a strange voice-another imp
from Connecticut, in a table-cloth, as a witness
.
ventured some weeks afterward to remark .
Simultaneously with the appearance of this ob-
j ect flam es burst from the ground, with a slight
report and evil smell, and the uncharitable after-
1231
American ~fyths and Legends
ward wondered if these upheavals might not
have been managed by gunpowder and slow
matches.
The sheeted visitant calmed, after a little, and
told the cringing audience-which cringed the
more at the dreadful news-that each man of it
must pay to the honest Rogers sixty dollars in
gold, and to return to the mountain at a certain
date. Some of the investors in pirate wealth had
to mortgage their houses and sell their cattle to
raise the required sum, and had to do so pri-
vately, of course, for they had wives; yet, at
the second session the spirit declared that one
of the forty had blabbed the secret, and to pun-
ish that one all must prove their integrity by
returning home and keeping silent four weeks
longer. During these four weeks Mr. Rogers,
who, it is feared, had found the paths of oppor-
tunity so broad and flowery that he could no
longer endure to be confined in the narrow and
humdrum ways of rectitude, organized another
company under an oath of secrecy, and <?btained
another fund. N either company knew of the
other. The later guild was provided with little
packets of powder made from the bones of the
~3g
dead that guarded thc treasUl"e. In the middle
of the night-fateful night for Rogers !-a wife,
inspecting the pockets of her sleeping lord for
possible letters and likelier coin, came upan one
of these parcels of dust. In the language of the
commoner, the jig was up. The woman's curios-
ity would be satisfied with nothing less than a
full explanation. At this very juncture the evil
genius of Ransford Rogers, having followed him
once or twice too often to the village bar, per-
suaded him to undertake the teasing or terrify-
ing of certain promising residents into a third
company of gold-hunters. On that night a
sheeted spectre walked the streets of ::Uorristown
itself. The constable saw it, and was girding
his loins for flight, when the ghost stumbled and
distinctly hiccoughed. The constable stole
nearer. There was a fragrance of old Med-
ford in the atmosphere. This mere odor gave
to the officer of the law a courage as high as
if he had swallowed the liquor that made it. He
laid a heavy hand on the arm of the apparition,
pulled off the sheet in which it was wrapped,
and behold: Rogers, tipsy, and wearing a piece
of tin over his mouth to change his voice.
233
It was a sheepish company of citizens that
assembled in the grocery next evening. Rans-
ford Rogers had confessed, had made public
the names of his dupes, and with an agility that
made them wonder if there were not something
uncanny about him after all, had slipped through
the fingers of the constable, taking most of his
money with him-that is, of their money. And
so ends this s2.·dly veracious item of town history.
Spooks no longer walk on Schooley's Mountain;
but, bless you, they break out in other places
every year or two.
THE HOUSE OF MISFORTUNE
CRANBERRY, New Jersey, does not exactly

boast of its pre-Revolutionary house,
though it is complacent over its association with
the names of -Washington, Lafayette, Jefferson,
and Hamilton. Had these been the only guests
at the mansion the blight would never have come
upon it, the gossips say. It stands at the cornel'
of the New Brunswick pike and King George's
highway,-the old coach-road from New York
to Philadelphia,-and was a fine old place
f234
already when it was bought by Commodore
Truxton, of the United States Navy. To this
stout old sailor's misfortune, he knew Aaron
Burr, the brilliant, persuasive, handsome, ambi-
tious, unprincipled schemer. Burr was an ath-
lete and a dead shot, as well as a man of reading,
a skilled debater, and a clever politician. His
power over women was remarkable, and scores
of them suffered dishonor from their confidence
in his promises. In 1804 he picked a quarrel
with Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the
Treasury, a fellow-student at Princeton, to whom
he charged defeat in his struggle for re-election
to the Vice-Presidency of the nation. Hamilton
did not believe in duelling, but being incessantly
nagged by his enemy, and fearing to be posted
as a coward and used in a scurrile fashion if he
refused, he accepted the challenge, and went
calmly to his death on the 'Weehawken Palisades.
He fired into the air, while Burr deliberately
shot him.
The disgraced survivor of this affair fled to
Cranberry and was reluctantly allowed by Trux-
ton to occupy a room on the top floor, reached
by a secret stair behind the fireplace, which had
235
been constructed when the scene of Revolution-
ary activities shifted to New Jersey. He came
out only by night, and took the air in the heavy
shade of trees. At an early opportunity he fled
the country, and, after engaging in schemes for
the foundation of a rival republic in the West
and the liberation of ~fexico from the Spaniard,
and standing trial for treason, he died in poverty
and neglect. The gloomy, vehement, wicked
spirit of the man had no other home, so it ap-
parently encamped itself in the place where it
had been received in partial friendship, and ill-
luck fell on nearly all who had to do with the
place. Truxton engaged in speculations, lost
his money, and moved away. He was succeeded
by a judge whose severities won general dread
and hate, and who felt the pressure of public
opinion through his hard nature to such a degree
that the place was no longer tenable by him.
Residence in the house seemed to coarsen and
brutalize him. He imposed the law to the letter,
and once sentenced a man to death for stealing
a piece of cloth. An elderly Quaker, who next
bought the house, was married to a young wife
who presently became a slave to opium. He shut
!'.!36
. her up ill Burr's room, but to passing school-
children she lowered a basket containing money,
and they bought the drug for her. A servant,
detected in smuggling pills to her chamber, was
beaten senseless and locked in the cellar on a
bread-and-water diet for a month. Shortly
afterward the woman killed herself. The
Quaker had another trouble, in the form of a son
who had inherited no Quaker instincts of peace
or propriety but had become a wild, brawling,
drunken, and unruly member. He had ridden
a pair of horses through the streets, standing on
their backs like a circus performer and lighting
cigars with ten-dollar bills; he had ridden them
into a pond, and drowned them; and soon after
he tumbled over the banister on the third story
and was killed, his blood leaving a stain on the
floor that is still to be seen. The Quaker lost
his fortune and disappeared.
Next came a slave-owner from the South, with
some of his negroes. The servants burned his
barns and ran away, or died on his hands, one
of them falling dead before the fire while fid-
dling for a dance. This owner, too, lost money
and mo\-ed. A retired army officer who followed
237
him was forced into bankruptcy within a year.
The next occupant of the house of misfortune
was a physician, who thereafter lost heavily
from incendiaries of barns and poisoners of cat-
tle, though his wife had placed crosses and
horseshoes above all the doors llnd windows.
Then followed a financier, who lost his fortune
and political prestige, and his wife her reason
and her life. Last in the line was a distiller,
who came to his end by a hemorrhage, his wife
dying in the same manner. Now and then were
whispers of foot-falls in the passage leading to
Burr's chamber, and of shadows on the walls,
cast by no living being; but the evil genius of
the house worked more commonly in silence and
in secret.
THE LONE TOWN MYSTERY
CERTAIN jokes, kept alive by negro min-

strels and the makers of patent-medicine
almanacs, are said to have been traced back to
Egypt and India, and to have been descried
dimly receding beyond the historical horizon.
The man of the Stone Age may have invented
238
the jest about his mother-in-law to lighten the
gloom while waiting in his cave for a storm to
pass, and the court-fool of the Ptolemies is be-
lieved to have originated the perennial tale of
the plumber. One quip of long endurance has
been traced back for a century to Lonetown,
but that may have been only a stopping-place
on its flight down the ages. It is this:
Lonetown had been stirred to its foundations
b~· the arrival of a stranger at the tavern. Any
stranger was a refreshment and an excitement,
but this one was a marvel, because he was evi-
dently going to stay. \Veek after week went
by; still he set foot in no other township.
X obody knew his business, and not to know what
everybody was doing in Lonetown was anguish.
"Thy, the fellow did not so much as say that he
had any business. He did not even give his
name. Rustic curiosity could not endure this
sort of thing. A committee of citizens was
finally selected, at an informal meeting held in
the store, and they went to the tavern to sce
what information could be squeezed out of
the stranger. He received them with dignity,
listened ,dthout surprise to their remonstrances
~39
against his seclusion and their request for knowl-
edge, and said: "I am obliged to you, gentle-
men, for this proof of interest in my affairs, and
I will say, plainly, that I am not a man with
whom you are likely to associate. A jury says
I am a criminal. The judge gave me the choice
of being hanged or of spending six months in
Lonetown. Oh, but I am sorry I chose Lone-
town! Good-night."
As there isn't any Lonetown-now that you
have read the story-it is evident that anyone of
several localities may be hidden under that name.
Several towns have contended for the right to it;
but, after sifting the evidence, it is said by the
best authorities that the scene of the incident
was either Jersey City or Camden.
THE LEEDS DEVIL
WITHIN recent times the Leeds Deyil has

ramped about the New Jersey pine re-
gion, between Freehold and Cape May, though
it should have been " laid" many years ago. Its
coming portends evil, for it appears before wars,
fires, and great calamities.
:240
Albeit a sober Quakcr in appearance, Mother
Leeds, of Burlington, New Jersey, was strongly
suspected of witchcraft; and suspicion became
certainty when, in 1735, a child was born to her.
The old women who had assembled on that oc-
casion, as they always do assemble wherever
there is death or birth or marriage, reported
that while it was like other human creatures at
first, the child changed, under their very eyes.
It began to lose its likeness to other babes, and
grew long and brown; it presently took the shape
of a dragon, with a snake-like body, a horse's
head, a pig's feet, and a bat's wings. This
dreadful being increased in strength as it gained
in size, until it exceeded the bulk and might of
a grown man, when it fell on the assemblage,
beating all the members of the party, even its
own mother, with its long, forked, leathery tail.
This despite being wreaked, it arose through
the chimney and vanished, its harsh cries min-
gling with the clamor of a storm that was raging
out-of-doors.
That night several children disappeared: the
dragon had eaten them. For se\'eral years there-
after it was glimpsed in the woods at nightfall,
1.-16 241
and it would wing its way heavily from farm
to farm, though it seldom did much mischief
after its first escape into the world. To sour
the milk by breathing on it, to dry the cows,
and to sear the corn were its usual errands. On
a still night the farmers could follow its course,
as they did with trembling, by the howling of
dogs, the hoots of owls, and the squawks of
poultry. It sometimes appeared on the coast,
generally when a wreck impended, and was seen
in the company of the spectres that haunt the
shore: the golden-haired woman in white, the
black-muzzled pirate, and the robber, whose head
being cut off at Barnegat by Captain Kidd,
stumps about the sands without it, guarding a
treasure buried ncar. \Vhen it needed a change
of diet the Leeds Devil would breathe upon the
cedar swamps, and straightway the fish would
die in the pools and creeks, their bodies, whitened
and decayed by the poison, floating about in
such numbers as to threaten illness to all tlle
neighborhood. In 1740 the service of a clergy-
man was secured, who, by rcason of his piety
and exemplary life, had dominion over many
of the fiends that plagued K ew Jersey, and had
e\·ell prevailed in his congregation against apple-
jack, which some declared to be a worse fiend
than any other, if, indeed, it did not create some
of those others. 'Yith candle, book, and bell the
good man banned the creature for a hundred
years, and, truly, the herds and henneries were
not molested in all that time. The Leeds Devil
had become a dim tradition when, in 18.J·O, it
burst its cerements, if such had been put about
it; or, at all events, it broke through the clergy-
man's commandments, and went whiffling among
the pines again, eating sheep and other animals,
and making clutches at children that dared to
sport about their dooryards in the twilight.
From time to time it reappeared, its last raid
occurring at Vincentown and Burn·ille in 1899,
but it is said that its life has nearly run its
course, and with the advent of the new century
many worshipful commoners of Jersey dismissed,
for good and all, the fear of this monster from
their minds.
ROSE O'MALLY AND CALIXTO
NOTHING was known about o'Mally,

when he settled at Foul Rift, on the
Delaware, beyond the two facts that he had a
daughter and had been a convict. Whether he
had served his time in the old country or the
new, whether for filching purses or cutting
throats, nobody could find out. He was harsh,
moody, and dangerous. It was gossipped about
that he visited the house of the Gray Witch,
not many miles away: a house she complacently
appropriated when its owner had been killed.
She was usually seen to pass a residence just
before a death occurred there, and in time she
died alone, after making the cross on her floor
with a coal, to prove that she still hoped for
heaven.
It was likewise said that when the spirit of
the Delaware Indian girl, who had been burned
alive on a rival's false testimony, came back in
the form of a white doe to drink from the river,
as she did on every anniversary of her death,
O'Mally was the only one who had the hardihood
to fire at her. The bullet went wide and his
944
gun kicked him black and blue when he did it.
O'~IalIy's visits to the witch and his settlement
in this lonely region had some bearing on the
Hans Pfal treasure; J'et if he recovered it he
ne\'er spent more than enough to keep him in
bullets and whiskey.
Hans Pfal was a Dutch pirate who had as-
cended the Delaware in a sloop loaded with the
spoil of many robberies. After reaching Pfal's
Point he packed his gold into a chest, sunk it,
and that night killed everyone of his crew,
lest the hiding-place should be revealed and he
should lose some of his savings. Young men
addicted to late hours and taverns declare that
although the pirate has long been dead he has
been seen prowling along the shore by torch-
light, arrayed in clothes that are hopelessly out
of date in style and of lamentable thinness as
to quality. He appears to be examining the
shoal water near the bank. O'Mally was just
the kind of man who would help himself to
hidden treasure, if he could find it, and whether
its owner were dead or alive was of little conse-
quence. Ghosts did not count for much with
him. He never kept at the search continuously,
245
lest he should be watched. He chose for his
work nights that were cold, raw, windy, snowy,
or wet-nights that kept other people in-doors
and sent them soon to bed. A spade, a pick,
some rope, and a bull's-eye lantern were his
outfit, and a pistol was always within reach.
Seemingly the treasure did not discover itself,
for the ex-convict grew more taciturn, and
scowled more in his lonely walks than ever.
The one soft spot in his nature was a love for
his daughter, Rose, a modest, pretty, fair-haired
maid, who commended herself to more than her
father, because she was so unlike him. He did
all he could to keep her from seeing the world
and from letting the world see her; yet this
was impossible after the girl had grown toward
womanhood and begun to take such duties out
of her father's hands as required her to do
errands and work in the garden.
Several sparks visited that garden while
O'l\IalIy was looking for Hans Pfal's money,
or was hunting among the hills, but if he caught
them within gunshot they never attempted a
second visit. One wooer alone persisted where
others had fled. It was Calixto, a handsome,
fH6
intelligent half-breed Indian lad, the son of a
priest who had formcrly bccn stationcd in thc
yicinity. Though seemingly as mild in disposi-
tion as a woman, quiet in manner and low in
Yoice, he had a stout nath'e courage that madc
him respected by white and red pcople alike, by
all people, indeed, except O'~Ially, who had
warned him neyer to speak to his daughter or
approach his cabin nearer than half a mile. For
a young man of Calixto's stamp such warnings
were invitations, and he was a visitor oftener
than anybody guessed-anybody except Rose,
who, haying becn allowed to see few members
of the opposite sex, quickly fell in love with this
gentle but resolute fellow. O'~Ially, returning
from the ri\"cr on a certain cyening, saw the two
walking arm in arm. He stole forward in the
shadows of thc trees until he had come within
a few yards of them, when he fired a charge of
slugs into thc body of the young man, tearing
his heart to pieces. That night Calido's friends
and relatives surrounded O'~Ially's house, set
it on fire and danced about it, yelling and re-
j oicing as it settled into ashes. Both Rose and
her fathcr perished in the flames.
12+7
THE GOBLIN JESUIT
~PATCONG-the name was given by the

Leni-Lenape to a pretty valley in the
Blue Mountains of Pennsylvania--contains a
mission-house that village rumor declares to be
haunted by the Goblin Jesuit. Some residents
will tell you that they have heard the chimes
ringing the angelus, and that the sound grows
higher and fainter as you approach the ruin.
It is long since the old place had an inhabitant,
and for a century and a half the superstitious
have looked at it without liking, for during the
Indian war of 1755-56 half a dozen British
troopers and an officer met here with misadven-
ture. Being benighted in a winter storm, they
had taken refuge in the house, built a roaring
fire, and were bowsing it stoutly from leather
bottles. The empty chambers were echoing to
the profane songs and boisterous toasts of the
soldiers when the officer, looking about the hall,
exclaimed, "Why, I recognize this place.
It's the old mission, and-they say it has a
ghost."
"Let him stay below this night. I warrant
fJ48
American lUyths and Legends
it's warmer where he is," sang out a maudlin
fellow.
" Tush! Be quiet. Let us know the story,"
said another.
The lieutenant tossed down a heating draught
and answered: " So far as I remember the ghost
is a J csuit-a monk-a Frenchman, and sure to
be no friend of ours. I wonder his bones don't
stir in their coffin at the idea of his house being
in the hands of his enemies. Eh? What was
that? Sounded like something moving, in a box.
'Yell, they say that on the anniversary of his
death, just when the chimes had gone midnight
-there are no chimes here any longer, you
know-Hark! By J oye! Did you rascals hear
that? It was like a bell. I'm sure there's no
yillage near. A high wind plays pranks with a
man'~ imagination on a night like this. Where
was I? Ah, yes. As the bell sounds the last
stroke of twelve there is It knock at the great
door, and the monk--"
Rat-tat-tat ! The knocker on the door had
f allen. The men turned, lowering their bottles
from their mouths, and stared. Their ears
hummed with their own blood. They could hear
!'249
American ~ryths and Legends
the surge of it above the snapping of the logs
and the roaring of the wind.
" Pah! :N 0 spirit could rap so soundly. It's
some poor, belated devil, seeking s]lelter, like
ourselves. Come in!" Though the lieutenant
shouted the last words br[wely, he fell back in
his chair, clenched the arms of it, and turned
white in spots through the flush of the brandy.
For the door ]lad swung open, and a cloaked
and grizzled man, with fixed eyes and snow-
white face, was entering the hall. He scowled
darkly on the company; then admncing to the
table where the liquor was, he picked up a bottle
with a bony hand.
" Aha!" cried one. "He takes his tipple.
He's honest flesh and blood. Sit by the fire.
neigllbor, and rouse it to old King George."
" Ay! Drink!" shouted the others.
The monk stood still and stared into the faces
of the soldiers. "l\ ot a word was spoken, then.
Again the silence fell. The watching faces
turned white and sharp. The stranger walked
noiselessly to the fireplace and poured the liquor
on the hearth. In a moment it began to rise
in steam, thicker and thicker. more and more
!?50
stifling. One could no longcr sec across the
room. \Vith a shrick the officer broke the spell
that hc felt to be closing about him and rushed
into the storm. It was daylight before he dared
go back. When he reached the mission he still
lingercd on the step, fearing to go in. At last
he turned the knob and entered. Six bodies lay
on the stone floor.
A KIXDXESS REP AID
D CRIXG the Re"olution there was no little

friction between loyalists and admcates
of liberty in parts of the country that were not
often scourged by the armies of either colonies
or king. In Pennsylrania the Germans were
inclined to side with the Tories, possibly because
their kinsmen, the Hessians, had engaged as
soldiers of fortune under the English flag, while
the Scottish settlers endorsed the Declaration
of Independence, and some of them bore arms
with the troops of Washington. In doubtful
districts the opposing parties kept close watch
of one another, and on the arrival of a stranger
251
in a village not many hours would elapse before
his business was known.
While the patriots lay encamped at Morris-
town, New Jersey, during the winter, spies were
abroad in the service of both armies. A tall,
courteous stranger arrived at Brakeley Manor,
Lopatcong, one evening, for, as there are no
inns hereabout, he had bone there to ask food
and shelter, which were willingly granted by the
hospitable old squire. If the stranger had
thought to arrive or leave without being seen,
however, he was mistaken. Guards and watchers
had reported his progress from point to point,
and late in the night there was a clatter of hoofs
outside, a clang and click of weapons, then an
assault on the door, which was forced. Squire
Brakeley, roused by the commotion, went into
the hall, holding his candle high, and was con-
fronted by half a dozen cavalrymen in buff and
blue.
"Gentlemen," said he-" for I take it from
the color of your coats that you are gentlemen-
I do not know your errand here, but I have to
remind you that there are ways of entering one's
house without breaking in."
Q5Q
"Your pardon," said an officer; "but we
feared that if we gave warning our man might
escape."
" What man? Have I disobeyed the law?"
" \Ve know you, squire, yet you are disobeying
the law. We have learned that you are harbor-
ing a spy. The notorious :Moody is under your
roof at this moment."
" It may be as you say. I do not know this
:\Ioody. A man came to me asking food and
shelter. So long as he has placed his life in my
hands, I shall not betray him to his enemies,
though his enemies are my friends."
Threat and argument availed nothing. The
old man was so determined, yet so complacent,
that the troopers guessed the neighborhood to be
unsafe. They might be menaced by the ap-
proach of a British squadron. So they hastily
withdrew. As they rode away, :Moody-for it
was he-stepped from his concealment and
thankfully wrung the hand of his host.
"Sir," said the squire, "I would have no
harm befall you under this roof; but if it is
true that you are seeking the injury of my coun-
try, I must ask you to go."
\?53
.J..<llnerican .Myths and Legends
" Tith a bow, and renewed thanks for the favor
he had enjoyed, Moody took his leave.
Some months later Squire Brakeley was
stopped by three highwaymen while riding
toward his home in the moonlight. 'With the
butt of his whip he struck one fellow in the
face, and almost upon the stroke there came a
pistol-shot from a thicket. Another of the rob-
bers grasped a wounded wrist. Then all three
ran away uttering loud curses. A stranger
stepped from the bush; he lifted his hat, as
Brakeley thanked him for his interference, and
showed the face of l\Ioody, the British spy.
'W as he chief of the robber band, or was his
arrival an accident? At all events, the old
squire's kindness was repaid.
THE WHITE WOLF OF VENANGO
ON Cornplanter's reserve, in Venango

County, Pennsylvania, lived an Indian
family named Jacobs; big, athletic fellows, full
of hard sense and afraid of but one thing: the
white wolf. For to see the wolf was" bad medi-
cine;" to chase it, death. There was never a
~54
doubt as to its being a real wolf; it had eaten
too many hens and sheep and killed too many
dogs to leaye room for any question on that
point. Yet traps would not catch him; dogs in
packs could not bring him to bay; bullets either
missed him or glanced from him. A young
member of the Jacobs family engaged to guide
a party of hunters through this region, and all
went well until they had reached the head of
the Clarion. On breaking camp at this spot Jim
Jacobs took no part in the preparations. He
smoked a silent pipe and said that the others
must go on by themselves; for he ]1ad seen the
white wolf, and that meant bad luck. They
joked and gibed him without moving him in the
least. He finished his pipe, told them by what
trails they could reach ~IcCarty's trading-
station, bade them adieu, struck into the forest
labyrinth, and went home. He was killed in an
accident soon after.
The hunters, scoffing at Jacobs's superstitions,
kept on. They got the help of a trapper, who
kept a number of dogs, and decided to leave the
deer to their liberty for a time and hunt down
this hoodoo. After much luring and watching
955
they came upon the fellow's tracks, and on a
quantity of pheasant feathers, for he had left
his lunch in a hurry, and presently, near Baker's
Rocks, they saw him: white as a polar bear,
three feet high at thc shoulder, bristling and
snarling. The eyes of this beast seemed to
shoot red fire. Four rifle-shots rang out, and
the wolf was gone, with the dogs in hot pursuit.
In an hour he was overtaken again, and again
the guns were emptied. The animal leaped over
a cliff, sixty feet, into a stream, almost at the
moment when the shots were fired. No blood
was visible, no splash was heard. The dogs
found no scent. It was the last time that the
white wolf was seen, but in a few months every
member of the hunting party was dead.
WHEELING STOGIES
I N Wheeling, West Virginia, they make a
cheap cigar, called the stogy. Similar of-
fenders are made in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania,
one variety of which is known as the toby.
These long, thin bunches of tobacco are hastily
put together, native leaf and leavings being used
956
.A merican .Myths and Legends
in the making. They are alleged by expcrts to
be not morc than half as bad as they look- and
smell. The name stogy came about in this way :
Before the days of canals and railroads all
freight had to be sent from the coast cities to
what was then called the \Yest in big, canvas-
topped wagons known-from the place of their
manufacture-as Conestogas. The teamsters
were willing to take a part of their pay in
tobacco, out of which they fashioned a rough
likeness to a cigar that became known as a
Conestoga. That name was too long, so they
called it a "stoga," and this got itself twisted
into "stogie" by the tavern idlers to whom the
carters gave the rolls of leaf.
The tale of the Pittsburg toby sounds less
likely, but its origin has become a town tradi-
tion, so here it is, for what it is worth. When
that city was a village, and a good, blue Presby-
terian one, a certain burgess suffered wide re-
nown as a swearer. Every time he was taken to
task for his temper and profanity he would
quote the passage from his favorite" Tristram
Shandy" in which Uncle Toby said a bad word,
which a guardian spirit took straight to heaven
1.-17 S!57
- a wrong place to take such words; for though
the recording angel entered it on the great book,
he dropped a tear that blotted it out forever.
As the burgess grew old his memory became
uncertain, and it troubled him not a little to be
compelled to get his book from the shelf when
he wanted to repeat a paragraph that had been
as familiar to him as his own name. Deep was
his sorrow when some unconscionable reformer
ran off with" Tristram Shandy," leaYing the old
man to gasp and glare and stammer when he
tried to frame his usual excuse. They did say
that a church elder took the book, in order that
the burgess should have no support in his sin.
This elder-at least, an elder-began an earnest
effort for the burgess' reform, and he was at it
one day, preaching, arguing, gesticulating, while
llis victim sat on his porch, hunched in his chair,
his eyes roving sadly and his fingers working in
the yain attempt to recall his defensive quota-
tion, when Tom Jenkins, a well-known teamster,
came lumbering along in his Conestoga.
He knew the burgess, and, taking a sudden
pity on him, halted his horses, jumped off from
his wagon, and stumped up the steps to haye a
9.:;S
word with him, but also to s,n-e him from the
avalanche of adj uration. Giving no heed to the
elder's hints and signs, he offered one of his
stogies to the burgess-the first the old man
had eyer seen. Flint and steel were pulled out,
a light was struck, and the two began to smoke,
while the elder grew in deeper earnest and
shouted louder and louder in warning and ex-
postulation. The stogie seemed to have medici-
nal qualities, for soon the burgess began to find
his tongue in the old way, and he loosed a torrent
of profane objurgation that made his tormenter
stand aghast. Then he quoted: " And the min-
istering angel-the angel, damme !-flew up to
heaven-to heaven, you blink, blank son-of-a-
sea-cook-with the oath-and blushed as he gave
it in." He shouted this, his memory coming back
to him. "But the recording angel, as he wrote
it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and
blotted it out, forever. F'rever, sir!" he roared,
as the elder hurried down the steps, holding his
hands to his ears and raising his eyes in despair.
Then, turning to the teamster, the burgess said,
looking significantly at the roll of tobacco he
held in his fingers: "Tom, you've brought back
~59
my Uncle Toby." And the name of toby fas-
tened upon the cigar that day.
THE MAN WITH THE SKATES
FOR all they have schools and colleges round

about Bryn Mawr, Haverford and other
near towns keep alive the traditions and supersti-
tions that belonged to early settlers west of
Philadelphia, and it is suspected that the col-
leges have as much as anything else to do with
the survival. There are abandoned houses and
ruined mills and desolate cemeteries to which
ghost stories naturally attach themselves; and
the students of Bryn Mawr know the house with
a chamber in which nobody can sleep because a
red eye is watching all night from a corner;
and the house with a boarded-up room in which
the Gray Lady walks-a quiet, unobtrusive,
well-bred spectre; and the two-story stone house
at Glenwood, that was built in 1753 and is so
undoubtedly haunted that sensitive visitors, even
as they approach it in the daytime, feel that they
are being watched by somcthing through the
heart-shaped holes in the green shutters. The
!260
original occupant of this house was a Tory
miller, who sold to the Revolutionary troops flour
in which he had mixed powdered glass. His
only reason for remaining about the place in
these d ays is to protect the money he buried in
llis cellar before he himself was buried, his
neighbors having considerately hanged him. It
is reported that several persons who have at-
tempted to explore that cellar have come to a
quick and violent end.
But no ghost of the neighborhood is quite so
creepy as the Man With the Skates. He was a
young fellow, a collegian, who, while skylarking
with his room-mate, lost his temper and dealt a
vicious crack on the other's head. His friend
seized him by the throat and punished him with
a terrible choking. People in a passion do not
realize what strength they exert, and when the
room-mate relaxed his fingers he was horrified
to see the young man fall back, his eyes staring,
his tongue thrust between his teeth, a livid
mark about his neck. He shook him; there was
no resistance. He called to him; there was no
answer. He listened at his heart; there was no
beating. The man was dead. The homicide's
261
first impulse was to shout for help, to summon
a doctor, but as he placed his hand on the knob
of his door he asked himself how he should ex-
plain those ghastly marks of murder. Murder!
The blood of a fellow-creature was on his hands!
He cowered; he wept; he prayed; but the
figure on the bed did not stir. He threw a
towel over the face, but the lips seemed to move
beneath it, the eyes to shine through, and he
took it off again. How should he be rid of that
accusing obj ect? He went into the hall and
listened. The house was still. A clock in a
distant room struck one. He went back to the
dead man, put the stiffening body in an over-
coat, gloves, and hat, fastened skates on its feet,
and dragged it, as quictly as he could, down the
stairs; but every now and then the skates would
catch with a metallic click, and he would pause,
in an agony of fear, to know if the sound had
roused some one from his bed. He drew the
body out of the house without being seen, how-
ever, and hauled it over the frozen earth to a
pond often used for skating. The ice was thin.
He broke a hole through it and cast in the body.
N ext day a se:lrch was made, the corpse was
~6g
American )Iyths and Legends
found in the pond, and a coroner's jury declared
that death was caused by drowning.
On the next night, soon after the clock had
struck one, there came to the cars of the sleep-
less man, in the chamber where the killing had
occurred, a clinking sound on the stairs, and a
chill coursed through him as he thought of the .
skates. The sound came nearer, and he could
hear that it was caused by something dragging
itself along the floor. The knob turned, but the
door did not yield. Then, by the light of the
lamp, without which he had not dared to stay in
that room, the watcher saw two swollen hands
in wet gloves clutch the edge of the transom and
heard something scrape along the door as the
body lifted itself into sight. The man in bed
pressed the quilt against his mouth to avoid a
shriek of terror, for the face that glared through
the transom was the face of the man he llad
ki11ed. The body lowered itself, the skate-
clogged feet shuffled through the hall, and there
was silence. On the next night the man found
an excuse to change his room; but shortly after
the stroke of the clock at one the same sounds
were heard, and this time the drowned man
263
entered and stood threatening above him; then
the bloated, dripping shape lumbered out of the
apartment, and there was peace-that mockery
of peace that has no rest. The man had a feel-
ing that if he were visited for a third time it
would be his death-night. Worn out with fear,
remorse, and sleeplessness, he went to the house
of a friend and asked leave to lodge with him.
In the morning he was dead, with finger marks
on his throat. Some say that, babbling crazily in
his sleep, he disclosed his secret, and that the
friend, in a sort of hypnotic frenzy, repeated
the killing. Others believe that the drowned
man returned in the small hours and avenged
himself.
THE DEATH OF TAMMANY
I N spite of its present status, the organization

known as Tammany was once composed of
Americans, and existed for a benevolent purpose.
Tammany, or Tamanend, the Indian chief for
whom it is named, was as migratory as Homer
in the matter of a birth-place, but it is com-
monly agreed that he was a Pennsylvanian; that
g64
he lived at one time on the site of Easton; that
he lived in Delaware afterward; that he hunted
and roamed over the hills about the Delaware
'W ater Gap; that he occupied Tammany flat, in
Damascus, Connecticut; that he was one of the
Indians who made the treaty with William Penn;
that he had a favorite tree, an elm, in the shade
of which he was fond of loitering, and the Tam-
many Society of Philadelphia used to assemble
beneath it to eat planked shad, a fashion of
serving this delectable fish that is believed to
have originated with old Tammany himself. He
was a brave man and sturdy fighter, but he
kept faith with the English and Americans, and
did much to restrain the martial ardor of his
people when they howled with longing for scalps
with red and yellow hair. Admiration for this
service led to the appearance of societies named
in his honor in thirteen States; in towns and
villages, too, in Pennsylvania, Maryland, Vir-
ginia, and Louisiana.
His last resting-place is as various as that
of his birth, for he has been distributed over
parts of Pennsylvania and New Jersey, one tra-
dition putting him under the cellar of Nassau
265
Hall, in Princeton; another denying to him an
earthly burial, because, like Passaconaway, he
was translated in a flame to heaven. In this last
tradition he took leaye of the world on the bank
of N eshaminy Creek, near Prospect Hill, New
Britain, Pennsylvania, a spot that was an Indian
burial-ground a long time ago. It is related
that when he had grown quite old he undertook
a journey to Philadelphia to hold conference
with the Quakers, but having become rheumatic
and slow, the younger men left him on Prospect
Hill, supposing that he would keep on at his
own pace, while they pushed ahead, being impa-
tient to reach the town. A girl of the tribe re-
mained with him to cook his meals and prepare
his couch, but as she had a lover in the neighbor-
hood she ran away shortly after the fall of night,
and the venerable chief found himself entirely
alone. Then he realized that he had outlived
usefulness and respect, and might better be dead.
To the poor little fire which the girl had left for
his cheer he added wood until it became a blaze
that could be seen afar, and its glow against the
clouds filled several watchers with astonishment
and with fear lest it should be a token of coming
966
American 1\lyths and Legends
misfortune. Standing close beside the fire he
plunged a knife into his heart and fell into the
flames. A great shower of sparks arose, and
Chief Tammany was a memory.
His charred corpse, with the knife in it, was
found by the other Indians on their return from
the long talk. They buried it between two trees,
and as his relatives died their bodies were
placed in the earth near his, every grave being
marked with a stone. But there are some who
say that by reason of the virtues that made him
a saint he did not suffer in his death; that
instead of committing self-murder, the flame
bore him lightly upward, out of the sight of
men, and that he reached the happy hnnting-
grounds alone.
HEXENSHDEDL
p ENNSYLVANIA no longer has its witches,

but it has its Hexenshdedl, or witch-
village, that was founded in the nineteenth cen-
tury. It was famous in the twenties for the
three witches, or hexes, who practised spells
and divinations there, and were regarded by the
267
Americ'a n :Myths and Legends
neighbors with awe. One of these old women,
who was accustomed to spend her time in wan-
dering over South Mountain, had a dead cheek.
The Devil had touched it. In those times a
witch also had this power of numbing and killing
flesh by touching it. The two other beldams,
withered and forbidding, often met this woman
on the mountain, each bent upon her cane, her
sharp nose and perky chin appearing beneath
a hood. 'What they did and what they said no
Christian might know, but the three moving dots
on the mountain-top that were seen against the
moon were known to be the witches, and every
good Dutchman, when he saw them, read his
Bible with all the speed he knew.
'While these meetings lasted all sorts of mis-
chiefs were abroad: windows rattled, the trees
whispered, there were scuttlings and clickings
of clawed feet on dark stairs and in cellars and
garrets, corn was also stolen from cribs and
scattered about, hay was lifted from mows and
lugged off to the barns of less thrifty people,
fires went out, ovens refused to bake, cats bawled
as if their hearts were breaking, bells were
struck, and occasionally some person suffered a
S?68
downright injury, as in the case of the girl who
disliked work and was "spelled" for twenty-
one months, so that she could not leave her bed
and chair. Her father became a-weary of these
doings and made his peace with the witch who
had cast the spell, by carrying water for her.
When he had done this the crone made signs in
the air, cackled a laugh, and showed her three
teeth.
"She's well," she squeaked. And when the
father went home the daughter was on her feet,
singing hymns with the rest of the family.
One housewife could not bake her bread, the
oven misbehaved so. She sent word to the
witches that if her bread did not bake next day
she would rouse the village and drive the hags
for twenty miles. A blood-curdling yell was
heard outside of her house that night, as if a
devil were being forced from his congenial fires
into the December chill. Nothing was seen
through the windows, no hoof-marks were found
in the snow, but the bread was baked next day.
Some of the more timid kept on the safe side
by making presents to the witches, especially
of flour and vegetables. For all the Devil's aid,
~69
these poor old women lived in greater straits
than any of their neighbors. In the Old World
a soul was never sold cxcept in payment for
riches, splendor, power, fame, love, pleasure,
youth, long life; but in America hardly a witch
made any material gain through her barter with
the fiend. She usually dwelt in squalor, and her
powers were principally cxercised in prodding
pins into hysterical subj ects, frightening chil-
dren, curdling milk, causing pigs to walk on
their hind legs, and affecting hens with pip.
Poor creatures!
A PHILADELPHIA EXCITEMENT
pHILADELPHIA has been compelled to en-

dure a reputation for peace that is galling
to the spirit of those residents who gauge the
importance of a town by the amount of commo-
tion it makes, and who point with envy to cities
where murders, politics, sensational journalism,
and steam whistles betoken the intellectual fer-
ment. As New England felt the restraint of
the Roundheads, and as the opposing spirit of
the Cavalicrs was kept alive in the South, so
;]70
Philadelphia was imprcssed by Quaker doctrinc
and Quaker dress, and ncvcr wcnt in for hys-
terics. Even in witch times it refused to cngage
in hangings and burnings. It prayed over the
sllspected, and made them feel uneasy, but it
would not punish them. \Vhen one genius-who
was born too early, for he belonged to our age
of self-advertisement-proclaimed that he was
" going to hell at 6 P.lII., sharp," only a handful
of town idlers gathered to see him off, and ap-
peared to be sorry that he changed his mind.
There used to be a phantom coach that was
driven madly through the streets in the middle
of the night by the ghost of a man who had
died in an unforgiving spirit toward one of his
senants. He created no end of din and clatter,
in order to show how sorry he felt, and the
people said, "If it relieves his feelings to do
this, even let him continue his cxcursions."
Philadelphia came perilously near to being
excited, howe,'er, in the days of Colonel Tom
Forrest. Hc was one of those pcople who kncw
where the pirate, Blackbeard, had buried his
treasure,-it was somewhere between Atlantic
City and Elizabeth,-and the mysterious hints
f.l7l
he kept dropping, his wise nods, his ifs and buts
spoken in tones of thrilling significance, stirred
the town deeply. At one time he allowed it to be
supposed that the wealth was hidden in the earth
on Coates Street (now called Fairmount Ave-
nue), near Front Street, and with hope and en-
thusiasm Philadelphia laid off its jacket and dug
for it, but in vain. He appeared in the market-
place soon after, with a parchment that looked
old,-his enemies and several of his friends
vowed that its look of age was due to candle
smoke and dirt and vinegar,-purporting to con-
tain the dying confession of a scamp who had
been hanged on Tyburn, and who, just before he
submitted to the halter, told his confidant how he
and other associates of Blackbeard had put sev-
eral golden fortunes into an iron pot and sunk it
in the sand at Cooper's Point, New Jersey.
A company was formed to consider this reve-
lation, and Colonel Tom had engaged a room for
its business purposes. This room was just under
a hall used by secret societies, and in the midst
of a discussion which was being carried on in
a bated breath,-the Colonel's being more
strongly baited than usual,-a trap-door in the
972
ceiling slid open and a skeleton leaped down
upon the table at which the adventurers wcrc
seated. Hcre, again, the Colonel's ever-ready
enemies dcclared it was no skeleton that brokc
up the mecting in such fell disorder, but a young
man in black tigllts on which a skeleton had
been painted. Forrest held his ground, like the
soldier that he was, and when he rejoined his
comrades, who were shivering in the strcet, he
told them how the awful visitant had unbent to
him and had given permission, on behal f of' the
pirates, to dig for Blackbeard's treasure.
The hat was passed in order to cover the
expense of the venture. A few nights later the
company assembled at Cooper's Point, and, so
soon as it was dark enough, began to ply picks
and spades, under the Colonel's direction. Just
as one of the spades struck a metal substance,
supposed to be the treasure-pot, two black men
in breech-clouts leaped from nowhere upon the
pile of stones where the Tyburn rascal's parch-
ment lay, and all except the Colonel fled. He
succeeded in persuading his associates to return,
but when two black cats sprang out of the pit,
with tails sputtering and fizzing and snapping,
1.-18 273
wondrously like fire-crackers, the horror was
complete. Yet the pot was unearthed and car-
ried to Philadelphia; but while lifting it from
the boat to the wharf the tackle broke and it
sank into the river, never again to be seen by
any stockholder in the Blackbeard Treasure
Company-unless it might have been the Colo-
nel; for he appeared so merry and prosperous
for months afterward that he was boldly ac-
cused of emptying the gold in his own valise
before the pot went overboard, and was actually
sued by fellow-members of the corporation to
reco,-er their share of the plunder.
THE BELLED BUZZARD
DOXBURY l\IILLS, l\Iaryland, is the home

1'... of a buzzard that wears a bell about its
neck, and the clang of the tocsin strikes terror
to all who hear it, for, so surely as this iron note
sounds through the air, so surely are war, pesti-
lence, or accident impending. None knows when
or by whom this curious freight was added, but
it is said that the creature has affected the
hills of the Patapsco for many years. It avoids
974
.A merican ~Iyths and Legends
all company, or else its kind is frightened and
m'oids it, as it is always seen alone, when scen
at all. It will sit for hours on a limb or crag,
gazing over the country and dreaming of the
time when the land shall ccho again to the rattle
of rifle yolleys and crash of cannon, for the
people belieye that it took its abode here soon
after the CiYiI 'Var, and, having tasted that
most expensiye of meats, human flesh, will not
touch meaner carrion. It has never been known
to prey on dead cows or horses, but it seems to
diYine the provision of its wished-for food, for
whenever riot, or murder, or conflagration, or
pestilence, or disaster approaches in any form,
its black shadow is seen moving across the fields
and roofs, and its bell is knelling some soul to a
speedy flight.
STICK PILE HILL
A "rOURNFULLY decadent · village is Or-

leans Cross-roads, in Maryland, on the
line of the old Chesapeake and Ohio Canal;
especially mournful to people whose memories
are long enough to recall it when it was a
075
bustling place in the coaching days. The dis-
appearance of the stages, the lessening of canal
traffic, and the opening of other districts by the
railroad took the life out of it. While the canal
was a-building many rough fellows were em-
ployed in the construction, and rougher ones
hung about their camps, profiting, on wage-
nights, by the selling of liquor and cheating at
cards; and graves on the hillsides mark the
scene of drunken differences.
Among the spots along the canal which have
their " haunts" and spooks none is better known
than Stick Pile Hill, with its terrifying peddler.
In the flesh he was an old fellow who had
arrived at Orleans Cross-roads by canal, and,
after selling some of his goods in that settle-
ment, had flung his pack on his back and trudged
away on the bad road that wound across the
mountains. The loafers basking in the spring
sunshine watched him until he disappeared.
Next morning 'a scared man rode into Orleans
and stammered a tale of murder on the highway;
how, riding to replenish his jug and sack, he had
found at the roadside the body of a stranger
with the head beaten to "sassidge meat," the
Z76
pockets turned wrong side out, and a rifled pack
close by. The victim of the crime was buried
where they found him.
A week later one of those worthies who make
a business of sitting in village stores on Saturday
nights was deprived of a month's growth by a
dsion near the peddler's grave, and he retained
such a nightly fear of the place afterward that
he would go a mile and a half out of his way to
reach his home. The peddler had appeared to
him, " misty-like, with his head like mush," and
his clothes dabbled with red. Others began to
report on the apparition. It dodged in and out
among the trees; it rushed at them in a way
to make their hearts leap out of their throats,
where those organs had lodged at first sight of
it, and, whirling off like a leaf on the gale,
emerged from an unsuspected corner and made
them faint with dismay. People fell out of the
habit of using the road at night, and presently
out of the habit of using it at all after it had
been noticed that when one passed the grave in
the day some quick misfortune was sure to hap-
pen in consequence. The travellers lost articles
of value; they fell and broke their bones; their
:!77
wagons collapsed; their horses ran away. The
road threatened to go utterly to weeds, and
people went around the spot until a worthy at
the Cross-roads recalled that a ghost could be
laid by a small branch thrown on the grave
where the body had been interred. And to this
day the farmers who cross the mountain toss a
few twigs on the earth in which the peddler has
at last consented to secrete himself. The pile
sometimes reaches a height of five feet, and is
burned every winter to make room for a fresh
accumulation. That is the reason for calling it
Stick Pile Hill.
THE PICTURE TREE OF TENALLY-

TOWN
A LARGE chestnut-oak near Tenallytown,

Maryland, is held in much account among
the people round about because it has a part in
the story of the place. It relates to a slave-
owner named Clagett, a coarse, ill-natured fel-
low, who vented his spitcs on the backs of his
negroes and who could live on kindly terms with
nobody. It was said of him that he sold his own
::278
American ltlyths and Legends
children into slavery, partly that he might
profit by the sale and partly that he might
inflict the pain of separation on the slave women
who had borne them. Clagett left his house on
a rainy night in one of his tempers and started
for the village, two miles away, oyer a road deep
in mud. He did not return, and toward morn-
ing a search was made for him. He and his
horse were found beneath the chestnut-oak, both
dead, their skulls broken by a collision against
the trunk. They must have struck it with tre-
mendous force. The body of the man had Chris-
tian burial, but there was no sorrow at his gra\'e.
His widow bore a red stripe across her f ace-
Clagett's good-by to her on the night when he
left home.
So soon as the estate could be settled the fam-
ily moved to a Northern town, and in time the
name of Clagett was half forgotten. The slaves
were either sold or ran away to the free States,
and the way of their owner's death would haTe
passed out of the local traditions if it had not
been that the knots and gnarls in the bark of
the old tree began to take the shape of the torn
faces of a man and a horse, just at that part
9i9
American :M:yths and Legends
of the trunk which had been spattered by their
blood.
It was not until after the war that it became
known how Clagett had died. It had been sup-
posed that he was reckless with rage and liquor,
and that in the intense dark his horse had not
seen the obstacle he had struck. Reckless he
was, but the night was not so black as to hide a
sheeted figure that arose at the wayside, tossed
its arms at him, and screamed in a voice which
sent a chill through his fevered blood; for, like
many harsh people, he was superstitious and was
known to believe in ghosts.
When Clagett was drunk or disappointed he
would find somebody to vent his cruelty upon.
His usual victim was the first slave he encoun-
tered, man, woman, or child. On the last day of
his life he had seized upon an unoffending
elderly woman and had tied her by the wrists
to a tree. Her clothing was torn from the upper
part of her body that he might strike her with
his whip as he passed to and fro about his plan-
tation, and there she stood, hour after hour,
with blood trickling from welts on her back and
a chill rain numbing her. After darkness had
!280
fallen Clagett's wife stole out to the poor creat-
ure, cut the thongs at her wrists, led her to her
cabin, and gave her some restoratives as well as
some pitying words. She had hoped that pres-
ently her wretched husband would go to bed
drunk, and would not disco\'er the release of the
slave. But he did discover it, and he stormed
into the house, shouting and swearing at his wife,
and finally striking her in the face with the very
whip which had been reddened in the blood of
the old negress. Then he went forth, cursing,
kicked his stable-boy, ordered him to saddle his
fleetest and most spirited horse, and in a few
minutes had posted off toward the tavern,
through the rain.
There was in his household a stout negrelis,
the mother of one of his children, and her wrath
against him that night was as deep as his against
his wife, though more silent. The slave who had
been so outrageously treated at his drunken whim
was her mother. When the boy started to saddle
the horse she knew where Clagett was bound.
H may be that she merely wished to shock or
scare him, or cause him to break an arm or leg
by a fall, so that he would be incapacitated from
~Sl
further abusing his people for a time; and it
may be that she did not think about the matter
at all,-that she obeyed a blind instinct for re-
venge. With a sheet from the wash in her hands
she ran across the fields and by a cut-off reached
the chestnut-oak just as he came lurching and
pounding by. She threw the sheet over her
head, sprang forward, and screeched with all
her lungs. She heard his frightened yell, a
crash, and then the world was better off.
THE DEVIL'S RACE-COURSE
I N his own improper person the Dcvil was a

more familiar figure in the Old \Vorld than
he ever became in the New. It seems as if he
must have found more subjects there. Yet he
did find time to pay an occasional visit to these
shores, and one of the towns that he favored
with a visit was Baltimore. It is alleged, in-
deed, that he found this little city so congenial
that he set up a sort of head-quarters there, but
the residents pooh-pooh at his statement, and
set it down to the workings of evil minds in
Annapolis, since Baltimore became the State
esg
metropolis and Annapolis merely secured a
brick capitol and a Naval Academy. But to our
story.
There was in Baltimore, on the edge of the
hill called Mount Clare, a circular clearing, three
hundred feet across, that was known to a few
as the Forest Ring and to the many as the
Devil's Race-course. Until the nineteenth cen-
tury had been half spent it was avoided by the
superstitious, who could still trace it on the
earth. N ear it stood the cabin of Sam Jones,
a free negro-the Jones who reported that when
hunting one night he fired at a coon in the middle
of the ring and nearly died of fright, for the
coon sat up and uttered a long, bellowing laugh,
and the stump he sat upon flashed into livid
flame. It took two or three years for Sam to
recover his nerve, and when he did he kept about
the populous districts after dark. As luck would
have it, however, he was halted in the twilight,
on one of his infrequent errands in this quarter,
and bidden by a tall, dim stranger to give 11
letter to a recluse, commonly known as Surly

Bill, who lived on the other side of the river.
The coin that the unknown dropped into his
Q83
palm to speed him nearly scorched his fingers.
The stranger, as the reader will have guessed,
was the Devil himself.
" But why didn't he take his own message?"
will be asked.
Because at that instant the shadow of the
cross, made by branches of a withered pine,
rested on Bill's roof in the half moonlight, and
two parsons who had offered to pray for the
hermit were talking under his window, though,
as it fell out, neither had the courage to enter.
They were hardly out of hearing when Sam
whacked his summons at the door.
"What the devil brings you here?" bawled
Surly Bill, as he faced the messenger.
" Letter for you, sah," answered Sam, thrust-
ing a square missive into his hand, and holding
out his own, in evident hope of reward. He got
a kick, and fled; still, he had not fared badly
in his own accounting, for the Devil's dollar kept
him in rum and mischief for a couple of nights.
Over the fire in Bill's kitchen hung a caldron
of witch-broth that had been bubbling and stew-
ing, giving out the vilest odors, but as he bent
to the perusal of the letter the fire died, the
gs.J,
stuff chilled, and its power of ill-doing was lost.
For Bill dwelt long upon the letter. It re-
minded him that since llis compact with the chief
of hell he had not sent a single soul below, and
the time had arrived when he must do so. He
must shed the blood of some one who had com-
mitted a crime. Who should that one be? Ha !
He had it; the captain under whom he had
sailed as buccaneer, the blackest-hearted rascal
he knew, whose hands had smoked in the gore
of fifty victims, and who--a murrain on him!-
had triced him at the mainmast for breaking
into a liquor-cask and lashed his back till rib-
bons of skin hung down. He would be revenged
tremendously, for he would not only slay his
body,-he would worse than slay his soul.
Surly Bill had served behind the old brass
murthering-pieces aboard the pirate, had
chopped the timbers of many a merchantman
with eight-pound shot, and never felt a kink in
his moral inwards, because he hadn't many of
those fitments; yet, now, when he came to deal
the blow to his old captain, he found he could
not do it without first engaging him in fight.
He went about the business early in the morn-
285
ing, got into a successful brawl, struck and
killed him, tipped his corpse overboard, and left
for the other side of the sea in the first ship that
had her nose pointed in that direction. His
chest was full of the captain's gold, he was
buoyant in the Devil's promise of five years of
pleasure and plenty. Under a name that is
best not told, for the tradition of his bounties and
entertainments is still current among many
whose blood is blue, he flourished through the
Old World capitals, drinking deeper than any
prince, yet never drunk; gaming fiercely, yet
always winning; throwing money right and left,
yet never lacking. \Vith all his fortune, he could
never keep a friend. His temper was high, his
tastes were low, his passions were vulgarly dis-
played. But there was something more; at the
wine a wild light that was like despair blazed
in his eyes, and the mark of a claw burned on
his forehead. In St. Peter's, at Rome, the
meaning of his doom came over him so that he
shrieked in agony, and so fearful was his ery
that a priest who was serving at the altar fell
paralyzed.
Toward the end of the five years he returned,
5286
hoping, believing, that through his arts and
promises he could gain another stay from Satan.
His house was as he had left it, and he resumed
possession, unknown to any neighbor at the time.
The last night of his five mad years had come.
Sam Jones, making his way home, belated, had
the second and vastest scare of his life. A
storm was raging-such a storm as the oldest
resident could not remember. Rocks were splin-
tered by lightning, trees fell with a resounding
crash, torrents burst through dry hollows, cries
and moans sounded through the booming, howl-
ing, and plashing of the tempest. At the Devil's
Race-course Sam saw a figure in flight, seem-
ingly crazed and not aware that it was running
in a circle, while close behind, going at an easy
lope, was the Fiend. A Niagara of fire de-
scended, a long, bellowing laugh reverberated
through the heavens. Sam's liver, heart, and
other "works" went up. In the morning a
charred thing that had been Surly Bill lay in
the centre of the circle.
£87
American l\iyths and Legends
SPECTRES IN ANNAPOLIS
N0 town of its size in this country contains

more quaint old houses than the drowsy
capital of Maryland. If it were not for the
drilling and skylarking in the Naval Academy
and the periodical irruption of the legislature,
Annapolis would be in danger of oversleeping,
every now and again, and so missing a day. It
is a place not only of law-makers and future
admirals, but of ghosts, some of whom belong
as rightfully to the wharves and markets and
old mansions as do the white porticos and brass
knockers. There is the headless man, for in-
stance, who frequents the market-house and has
been seen, even within a dozen years, by a crab-
ber, who, going abroad at a small hour to pre-
pare for his work, was startled on beholding the
trunk walking down Green Street and loitering
about the empty place where the gardeners and
hucksters would presently assemble. The be-
holder turned his back on the apparition and
scuttled away for home with all his might.
Judge, then, of his horror when he found the
grisly being awaiting him on his own door-step!
288
The Brice house, with its fifty thousand dollar
wine-cellar, had a gentle ghost that the occu-
pants regarded with a friendly interest and did
not interfere with, for she never groaned, or
glared, or knocked at doors and windows, as ill-
bred spirits will do. She appeared at dusk,
just before candles were lighted, when the rooms
were vague and shadowy, rather than at mid-
night. She seems as in search of some one, for
she looks into the faces of those she meets, then
turns sadly, goes to the great mantel in the par-
lor, and leans against it with her face in her
hands. When the lights enter she is gone. Her
visits may have something to do with the treas-
ure secreted in the walls. A whitewasher, work-
ing in the cellar, alleged that he pulled a loose
stone out of the basement, thereby disclosing the
entrance to a hiding-place. He rolled up his
sleeve to thrust his arm the easier into the cavity,
when a spider of monstrous size and horrific
aspect leaped into the opening. Its head was as
large as a child's, and armed with ferocious
fangs. The whitewasher struck at it with the
handle of his brush. The creature bit it off,
as one might crack a clay pipe with his teeth,
I.-I:) 289
and swallowed it. Then the workman pushed
the stone back to its place again, convinced that
if any money had been put there it was not for
him.
And there was the ancient, hip-roofed Chand-
ler mansion, on Duke of Gloucester Street, where
a woman abode who was held in respect for her
courage and sense. Both of these qualities were
put to the test one moonlight night, just after
she had retired. The curtains at the wide door
parted and a man entered her bedroom. Had
she lacked courage she would have fainted. Had
she lacked sense she would have thrown a pillow
at him and screamed at him to get out. Her
first thought was that he was a thief; but his
bearing was that of a gentleman, his action was
not furtive or menacing, and he was well dressed,
as she saw by the moon when he crossed the
chamber, and, resting his head on his hands,
looked sadly down the street toward a light that
twinkled in an upper window-her cousin's
house. The man gave no attention to her nor
to the objects in the room. Her next thought,
therefore, was that the unknown was some visi-
tor of distinction, the guest of a nabob in the
290
town, who had the habit of sleep-walking, and
had entered her house through some door or
window accidentally left open or unlatched.
Should she c,aIl the servants and reyeal his pres-
ence to the household? The situation would be
called compromising by any gossips base enough
to put edl constructions upon accidents, yet the
yery fact of summoning the servants would
prove that there had been no secrecy and no
understanding of such a visit. She was resolved.
It was only a step to the bell-cord, and she gave
a pull to it that roused a long jingle in a remote
part of the mansion. Feet were heard pattering
through the hall outside, and the servants en-
tered with lights. The stranger had disap-
peared. No trace was found of him, high nor
low, and no bolt or clasp or lock had been tam-
pered with. In the morning the woman called
on her cousin and related her adventure, de-
scribing the man with some minuteness. The
cousin fell into a chair, crying, in amazement:
" It is Mr. Blank, my betrothed! What is he
doing here?" A few days later came a message
announcing that Mr. Blank had died at sea at the
hour when he was seen in the Chandler place.
£?91
GOGGLE-EYED JIM
N EAR Lake Drummond, in the Dismal

Swamp, is a lonesome house, half in
ruins, surrounded by rotten palings and dead
trees. It is said to be of great age, for a new
country,-to have been built, in short, by a land
partner of one of the famous pirates of the
Spanish Main who wanted a safe hiding-place
both for captured treasure and himself. Being
so close to the line between Virginia and the
Carolinas, he felt that in case of pursuit by the
officers of either colony he could claim to be out
of their jurisdiction, and this uncertainty as to
boundaries helped a number of other scallawags
out of trouble in later years; for they took shel-
ter there also, and even so late as the Civil 'Val'
it was used by spies, deserters, blockade-runners,
and smugglers, a rumor that the place was beset
by "haunts" favoring the privacy that law-
breakers and ad"enturers wished to keep.
At one time a poor parson set up his office
here for the wedding of runaway couples, and
the spirit of a bridegroom, slain by the angry
father of the bride, is one of the" haunts" most
B9~
American ..Myths and Legends
often seen about the place. Another phantom
that may be met in this yast and lonely marsh
is that of Goggle-Eyed Jim, a horse-thief of
distinction, who wore green goggles as a disguise
and came to his end-but that is a mystery:
the when, the where, and the how of it. Suffice
it that the fellow had been troublesome for many
~'ears along the border, and he usually kept so
close to the State line that when a Carolina
sheriff was after him he could dodge into Vir-
ginia, and vice versa. At last a Carolina con-
stable was put upon his track by a "swamp
angel," as residents of the swamp were called,
and followed to this house near the lake. The
thief-taker's "mad was up," and, requisition or
not, he was resolved to have Goggle-Eyed Jim.
Under cover of night he climbed by a rickety
ladder to a window where he had seen a dull
light, and, looking in, he saw Jim carousing with
a bold-looking woman. They were drinking
liquor from tin-cups.
" You don't go out of this place alive," mut-
tered the constable, as he pulled a big pistol
from his belt. Jim's face was toward him, and
the thief still wore his goggles. It seemed as
293
if the eyes behind the glasses shone green, and
the face, gray and uncertain in the light of the
one candle, turned toward the window with a
malignant grin. The pistol went off with a
startling clamor. The woman leaped to her feet
and whirled out of the room. Jim, with both
hands clasped over his heart, where the bullet
seemed to lodge, rushed to an open window and
balanced, ready to leap into the air.
On firing the shot and seeing that it had sped
to its mark, the constable slid down the ladder
and ran around to this window. He saw the
dark form of the robber shoot into space and
disappear in the grass. "I have you," he cried,
and sprang to the spot where Goggle-Eyed Jim
had fallen. But nothing was there-nothing
but the long grass rustling in the evening wind;
no mark of a body, no print of feet. The con-
stable lit his lantern, but it revealed no trace of
any human creature. He knocked at the door
of the house. No answer. He pushed the door
open and ran through the rooms-silent and
empty, all. He went away in a hurry. A few
days later the body of the " swamp angel" who
had betrayed the criminal was found floating in
Q94
Lake Drummond, with a buzzard perched on its
breast. Is it any wonder that Goggle-Eyed Jim
is thought to be the Devil?
THE DISMAL SWAMP SHIP.
XIONG the buccaneers from the West In-

dies who afflicted our coast, "Spade-
beard" was one of the worst. He looked every
bit the devil that he was. His eyes were like
fire, his hair and beard were glossy and coal
black, he was alternately treacherous and im-
perious. He had fallen in with an English mer-
chant-ship that had been separated from her
convoy in a gale, and had turned her adrift
after killing all of her crew and stolen all her
treasure, for she was freighted with bullion.
Before the frigate which was her convoy could
attack, he had run in behind the Virginia sand-
keys and escaped. But heaven's vengeance he
could not thwart. An immense tidal wave swept
against the shore. The pirate vessel was lifted
upon it and carried inland, mile after mile,
through the cypresses, and left among the trees
when the tide flowed back.
995
There, in the Dismal Swamp, among bayous
barely wide enough to give her passage, this
shattered hulk is doomed to cruise forever. Her
rigging and sails are gone, but swamp-moss has
grown to her masts and spars in their place, and
the crew, wasted to skeletons and gray with
mold, still work the ship, reef in gales with
dangling snakes, and yell oaths and blasphemies.
Spade-beard, with one arm off at the shoulder
and a piece broken out of his head, copes with
phantom enemies and fires silent broadsides of
green light from rusty cannon into the melan-
choly woods. Pale gleams flit over the deck and
shine through seams in the hull. This dreadful
ship is usually seen in thunder-storms, at night,
and is often struck by lightning, though never
disabled. Guides and hunters in the swamp
dread it beyond all other things of this world,
for whoever meets it is doomed "to death within a
year.
~96
JDISO~ WEED
,RIONG the flourishing, therefore despised,

growths of waste places in our cities is
the stramonium, or thorn-apple, more generally
known as j imson weed. It has a beautiful trum-
pet-shaped flower of white streaked with la,'en-
der, faintly fragrant, and the blossom is suc-
ceeded by a seed-pod as large as a butternut and
co,-ered with thorns_ The odor of the crushed
leaves is sickish and unpleasant. The plant has
long borne an ill name, for it said that witches
ha,-e used it to work injury, and to this day
Hualpi medicine-men take a decoction of it, in
small doses, to produce visions from which they
can prophesy.
Jimson is a short and careless way of pro-
nouncing Jamestown, for it is recorded that after
Jamestown, Virginia, had been burned, in 1676,
in order to keep out the objectionable Governor
Berkeley, this plant sprang up and covered the
ruins_ Nobody knew how it got there, for ac-
cording to one authority it had to come up from
. Tropic America to reach our vacant lots, while
another expert says that it came all the way
297
from the Caspian. It is, or ought to be, well
known that the plant is a poison, and children
who swallow its seeds require the doctor, quick.
In proper form it is a useful remedy, but it is
not for quacks and grannies to play with. Nor
is it to eat, as the soldiers at Jamestown discov-
ered; for they picked a quantity of the young
leaves in the spring, for greens, and" the effect
was a very pleasant comedy; for they turned
natural fools upon it, for several days. One
would blow up a feather in the air, another
would dart straws at it with fury; another,
stark naked, was sitting in a corner like a
monkey, grinning and making maws at them; a
fourth would fondly kiss and paw his com-
panions and smile in their faces with a counte-
nance more antic than a Dutch doll. A thousand
simple tricks they played, and after eleven days
returned to themselves again, not remembering
anything that had passed."
298
WHITE HOUSE
THE place in Virginia, not far from the na-

tional capital, that is called White House
took the name because it was applied, originally,
to the well-built home of a planter, now some-
what fallen from its ancient dignities. It is not
white, and never was, but the fact that it is
called so perpetuates the memory of a young
man who aspired to be the nation's President.
Thousands of American boys have the same
ambition until they outgrow their youth, but
they seldom believe so earnestly as did this one
in their divine ordainment to election. The
young fellow was a student, a Virginian, gallant,
aristocratic in bearing, eager, intelligent, and
deeply in love with the maid who owned the
manor. Last of her line, she had received the
old place as an inheritance, and lived here at-
tended by two or three black servants of the
family.
The student's consuming purpose, aside from
that of calling himself the husband of this
young woman, was to be seated in the \V11ite
House at \Vashington. He so often discussed
999
this matter with the mistress of the manse that
she, too, became imbued with the idea that he
had been chosen by fate to shape the destinies
of the republic during at least four years of
his life. It was possibly a wee pride in what
she felt would therefore be her own station that
caused her to accept him almost precipitately
when he offered his heart and hand. They
could not marry for a time, but the years of
betrothal were in part occupied by rehearsals
for their dignities to come. They went to
Washington, where their relationship to old fam-
ilies caused them to be received into official
society; they attended diplomatic dinners and
Presidential levees; they were often in the Sen-
ate galleries together, listening to debates. The
young man knew little of polities, but he be-
lieved in statesmanship.
On returning to her Virginia home the girl
gave a series of entertainments in honor of her
fiancee, and amusingly copied the forms and
ceremonies peculiar to social observances at the
capital. The neighbors noted this, and began to
speak of the pair, laughingly, as Mr. and Mrs.
President. The servants, who took the matter
300
.A merican .l \Iyths and Legends
more seriously, prayed, on every Sunday, that
their hopes might be realized, and the older
among them fell into the way of addressing the
young man as " .M assa President." It was a
pleasant dream. It may have had its uses in
giving dignity alld purpose to two young lives.
In the South a common exercise, even to the
time of the Civil 'Val', was the tournament. The
Roundheads of the North frowned on such
sports, but the Cavaliers of those States which
bear the names of the Stuarts clung to the tra-
ditions of a remote ancestry, and although the
joust no longer took the form of personal en-
counter and intended inj ury, it called for ad-
dress and courage, and was to be undertaken
only by skilled horsemen. A tourney was held
at '''11ite House, and the student was one of the
contestants. The riders were to charge a num-
ber of rings, and the one who returned with
the greatest number on his lance would have the
privilege of crowning his fair as queen of the
feast. So, kissing his hand to the young woman
whose colors fluttered on his arm and on whose
white brow he never doubted he should place
the wreath, the studellt spurred his horse, set his
301
spear, and advanced at a gallop. He had almost
reached the rings when a cry of horror went up
from the assemblage; his horse had fallen,
heavily. Friends ran to help him to his feet.
The girl, who had risen from her seat, looked
toward them anxiously. She saw one of them
remove his hat. Her lover, then, was dead.
His neck had been broken by the fall.
·When the young woman had recovered from
the illness which seized her on this discovery it
was obvious that it was merely a physical re-
covery. Her face had gained no seam, her eye
was bright, her step was light once more, but
her hair was white and her face wore a curiously
absent expression. From that day she lived
wholly in the past-a past brightly colored by
dreams the twain had dreamed of the future.
Again her lover was by her side, student no
longer, but first man of the land, and she, there-
fore, the first lady. Her home was the White
House, at last. The guests at the receptions
and dinners were merely the neighbors, and
sometimes it was the servants who sat in the
places of honor, but all were received as grandly
as if they had been dukes and duchesses, and
309
American _M yths and Legends
beside her, at every state banquet, stood the
chair of the President. So she lived and so she
died, happy in the belief that she was mistress
of the White House.
THE VIRGINIA WITCH
VIRGINIA did not pretend to be so good as

New England did, at the end of the sev-
enteenth century, and very likely that is the
reason why it was not so upset in its conduct
and its intellects at the time when the Yankee
witches were inviting death by souring milk and
jabbing pins into the arms of hysterical girls.
Grace Sherwood, the one witch accredited to the
Old Dominion, lived near Lynhaven Bay, in
Princess Anne County, and her great sin was the
crossing of the ocean in an egg-shell. On this
voyage she visited the shores of the Mediterra-
nean, and finding there a quantity of rosemary,
she dug up two or three healthy plants, loaded
the egg-shell with them,-it must have been a
roc that laid that egg,-and set them out before
her cottage, where they increased until the shrub
became common along the sandy shores. The
303
American .l\1yths and Legends
graver citizens of the county took alarm at this.
H Grace Sherwood could cross the Atlantic in
a shell, she could ride on a broomstick; and if
she could ride on a broomstick, what could pre-
vent her saddling and bridling a slumbering
warden and riding on his back to a Sabbat of
imps among the pines? Plainly, she was a
dangerous woman. So, in 1706, she was ar-
rested, examined by "Ancient and Knowing
women" for unusual spots, and on complaint of
her Majesty the Queen, represented by Master
Luke Hill, the public prosecutor, was condemned
to the water-test. In this, if a suspected woman
drowned, it proved that she was innocent. If
she swam or floated, she was guilty and was
worthy to suffer death on the gallows or at the
stake. This witch was bound by the wrists and
cast into the sea, but the court, which was more
lenient than some, directed that if she sank she
was not to be allowed to remain beneath the
water until dead. However, she did not sink,
but swam, in spite of her tied hands, and this,
together with the discovery of two moles on her
body, proved her crime, beyond a doubt. The
place where she was "put into water" is still
30t
.American Myths and Legends
called Witch Duck. History forgets her after
this test, but thcre is a tradition that she died
in prison.
THE VIRGINIA COCKTAIL
W HILE ~Iexico has its cocktail legend, and

while we know that the Duteh in Amer-
ica used to prclude their meals with a "haan-
start" of gin and bitters, Virginia enters the lists
with It counter-claim for the national beverage,
and would feel hurt, indeed, if thc award went
to the Aztecs or the Knickerbockers. Her alle-
gation takes this form: A comfortable tavern
once stood and thrived near Culpeper Court-
house, in the Old Dominion, and exploited the
sign of the " Cock and Bottle," the cock lustily
crowing the merits of the bottle. There was a
certain play on words in this combination, too,
for in those days the name cock was commonly
applied to the tap, and it fell about by an easy
use that the unfortunate who got the last drink
or tail of the liquor had the cocktail. A certain
doughty colonel of Culpeper went to the hostelry
one day to slake for an instant the burnings of
1.-20 305
a perennial and joyous thirst. Great was his
disgust when he was ser\"ed out of the muddy
tailings of the cask. He flung the liquor on the
floor and threw the bar-tender out of the place
with the sarcastic remark that if an honored
customer was to be served with such leavings,
he would drink nothing but cocktails of his own
mixing. In a frenzy that he supposed to be
due to craving, but that his disciples allege to
have been genius or inspiration, he caught up a
bottle containing gin and emptied half a glass
of it, recklessly tossing in sugar, lemon peel,
bitters, and a spoonful of vermouth, stirred a
bit of ice with the mixture, and quaffed it at a
gulp. And behold, the sorrow was gone out of
his heart, and he kept no hatred for the bar-
tender any longer. He had invented a cocktail
that would go down to posterity, and down pos-
terity's throat, and life was once more filled with
sunshine and alcohol.
306
American :lHyths and Legends
TWO CHAMPIONS OF ELK RIVER
.,NI0XG the early settlers of Kanawha Val-

ley, West Virginia, was a young physi-
cian, Dr. Triplett. At least, he put out his
shingle announcing himself as a doctor of medi-
cine; but he took more pleasure and felt more
pride in hurting than in healing, for he was a
famous hunter, fisherman, boxer, and wrestler,
and before he had been in Kanawha a month he
had beaten every man in camp and had become
admired and important. Tiring of civilized
ways, and despairing of patients in such a
healthy country, he moved up Elk River, and at
the debouch of the Buffalo built the first cabin
ever erected in that region. He lived by the
rifle, visiting the settlements but once a year,
to sell his peltry and buy supplies.
Some time after he left Kanawha there ap-
peared an Irish giant at the salt works, one
McColgin, and he was a fiercer fighter than
Triplett. In a week or two he had pounded
every man in the village either into meekness
or unconsciousness, but he was not liked, as
Triplett had been, because he was surly, brutal,
307
and revengeful, and, not satisfied with proving
his supremacy in a battle, must break his oppo-
nent's bones or wound Ilim in such a manner as
to make him faint from loss of blood. Hence
there was a general wish to be rid of him, and
the neighbors cunningly nagged him with reports
of the prowess of Triplett. He heard so much
of that redoubtable hunter that he finally de-
cided to try conclusions with him, though it was
a three-days' journey to the lodge. The public
sighed with relief when they saw his burly form
disappear toward the wilderness.
Dr. Triplett was rather startled by the in-
vasion of his privacy when, three days after-
ward, McColgin asked the shelter of his cabin
and told him that he had come all the way from
Kanawha to thrash him. One or the other of
the pair, he said, must be drubbed, in order to
have it understood which of them was the
"champeen" of that region. In spite of the
purpose of his visitor, Triplett received him
graciously and refused to fight until ~fcColgin
should have fed and rested after his long tramp.

Realizing that sleep and supper would give him
a probable advantage, the bully accepted this
308
American Myths and Legenus
proposition, willingly enough, and, warmed with
the behavior of his host, to say nothing of his
fire and a long pint of corn whiskey, he thawed
out quite decently, and the evening was passed
in smoke and stories. After the new-comer was
fairly pickled in liquor Triplett asked him if he
had ever chased a bear until he backed against
a tree, then seized him by the hind legs and beat
his brains out against the trunk. It was rare
sport, he assured him. ?IcColgin looked at his
host with a new respect. A man who could
handle bears like that was not to be easily de-
stroyed. He would practise on a bear before he
annihilated Triplett.
Next day he went into tile wood, and, as luck
had it, scared up a bear and ran him against a
tree. He seized the brute by the ankles, pre-
paratory to swinging him through the air, when
-rip !-biff !-smash !-the bear had cut open
his face, delivered a hammer-hlow on his head,
and flung him into a gully ten feet away. As
soon as he was able to hobble back he told Trip-
lett he had been hurt in a fall. He was afraid
to undertake the flaying of the young doctor
now, yet ashamed to go back to Kanawha. Trip-
30!)
lett's surgery soon restored him, but he lingered
in his cabin. The longer he stayed the less he
cared to fight, and after a month or so he de-
clared a friendship for the man he had hoped
to trounce, and decided to stay near him. He
built a shanty where the town of Clay now
stands. There he lived to a reasonable age,
growing milder in his disposition and caring to
fight but little.
More than a generation after their settlement
in the wood the two, then seventy years old, sat
on a log together, rehearsing some of their hunt-
ing experiences. McColgin looked sharply at
Triplett and asked: " Do yez suppose as a man
ever got a bear be th' legs an' bate his brains
out agin' a three?"
Triplett, who had years ago forgotten the
question he had put to the Irishman on his ar-
rival, answered: "I don't suppose any man is
fool enough to try."
" Thin, begorra, we settle th' champeenship of
Elk River an' th' Great 'Vest right now," ex-
claimed McColgin, pulling off his coat and fall-
ing upon his companion. The acquaintances who
stopped them declared the fight a draw, and
310
from then till their death their friendship re-
mained unbroken, each enjoying the honor of
being the champion of the Elk River country.
CAPE FEAR RIVER OUTLAWS
.R.IO~G the Scotch-Irish immigrants who

had come to this country in hope of peace
and liberty, and had settled at Cape Fear River,
~ orth Carolina, were several who kept their
allegiance to the king and sided against their
neighbors when war broke out. Those who
fought in the British ranks won the respect due
to enemies, but there were a few desperadoes
among them who ravaged the country in malice.
Such were the three who had stolen Harriet
Eskridge, a mere child, from the arms of her
mother. Her people were too poor to offer ran-
som, but no expectancy of reward was needed to
urge her friends to undertake the rescue. Three
stout farmers were quickly on the trail, and
although they had to avoid the appearance of
men-hunters, crooking about in the brush that
the kidnappers might not be warned, stopping
to eat but once a day, and travelling so late that
311
they could barely make out the hoof-prints left
on the earth by the horses of the Tories, they
reached, only an hour or two after the others,
a hut near the head of Haw River. It seems to
have been the purpose of the outlaws to leave
the girl there, to meet death from starvation.
Tying their horses at a distance, the farmers
crept to the hovel on hands and knees; then, at
a signal, they dashed through the door and laid
about them with clubbed muskets. Though the
Tories caught up and fired their own rifles, they
were so jarred by the surprise that they aimed
no better than Spaniards, and were soon at the
mercy of the Americans. No mercy was shown.
All three of the raiders were hanged with grape-
vines. Harriet was released from her bonds-
she had been tied to a post in a corner of the hut
by leathern thongs-and was restored in safety
to her mother.
This act created a bitter feeling on the part
of the Tories, while the boldness and uselessness
of the abduction filled the Americans with dis-
gust and wrath. Other outrages were to follow.
Captain John Wood, an old Indian fighter who
had served in the colonial army under Greene,
319
~Iarion, and Sumter, was one of those soldiers
who prided themselves on the fact that a reward
had been offered for their heads by the British
officers. The Tories undertook to earn it. They
captured him when he was alone, unarmed, and
lashed him to death with whips and rods, "to
atone for the lives of the royalists he had hanged
and shot." Just before his death he groaned,
"I have a boy who will one day repay these
cruelties." And they were repaid sooner than
he might have hoped. 'Vith his mother's consent
Frank 'Vood, a lad of eighteen, joined the colo-
nial army and took his baptism of fire, not many
months later, at King's :\lountain. Colonel Fer-
guson, who led a British column in that battle,
had been accused of unsoldierly conduct when
he carried the war into the Carolinas. He and
his men were charged with plundering houses,
assaulting women, destroying property, killing
peaceable citizens, and rewarding Tories who
had committed such acts of savagery as the kill-
ing of Captain Wood.
The invaders had created no end of scandal
in the land by bringing women to their camps;
some from the old country, and some wenches
313
of native families who had been attracted by the
glitter and color of the British uniforms. Gen-
eral Cornwallis was accompanied by " Agnes of
Glasgow," whose tomb, thus inscribed, may be
seen near the old battle-field of King's Mountain.
His chaplain, one Frazier, not quite daring to
appear among his soldiers with a mistress, took
a Virginia girl to wife, forgetting that he had
a wife or two elsewhere, and, after selling her
property and pocketing the proceeds, escaped
through the American lines, reached Nova Scotia,
and sailed back to his own country. Colonel
Ferguson had two women in his camp on the day
of his last fight. One of them, a certain Polly,
ran away with a redcoat early in the engage-
ment, but the other, known as Virginia Sal, was
struck by a stray bullet and was buried with him
on the field, wrapped in a bull's hide in lieu of
coffin. Ferguson was wounded seven times in
that battle, but the ball that finally brought him
to the earth, never to rise again, was fired by
Frank Wood, son of the man so cruelly put to
death. The lad also shot three of the Tories who
had taken part in the killing of his father, and
ten others of the band were hanged on what
314
was long afterward called the Tory Tulip Tree,
on Broad River.
A feud had now been opened that was not
to be settled without the taking of many lives.
Foremost among the Tory ruffians was "Big
Bill" Harpe, a Scotchman who had been cap-
tured at King's Mountain, but hfld escaped and
immediately began a tour of devastation. He
burned the houses lmd barns of the Americans,
killed or stole their cattle and horses, put inno-
cent people to death, even slaughtered children,
in sheer deviltry. A band of half-breeds and
renegades went with him, and although at the
beginning there may have been some notion of
helping the royal arms, in the end Harpe and
his cut-throats kept the road as highwaymen, and
abandoned civilization altogether. One of his
raids was on the 'Vood estate, that had already
suffered so heavily, and on this expedition it
suffered more than ever, in a material sense,
while, worse than all, Frank vVood's sister was
stolen and was forced to become the mistress of
this fiend. As soon. as he learned of this crown-
ing outrage, Frank obtained leave of absence
from the army, and, gathering his neighbors,
315
American N[yths and Legends
took an oath with them to put Harpe and his
band to death. The scoundrels were slippery,
albeit they left their trail in blood and embers.
It was learned that for a day or two ::\fiss 'Wood
had been hidden in the ::\·l ammoth Cave. At last
the outlaws were overtaken where the road from
Hopkinsville, Kentucky, forks to Morganfield,
and a battle ensued. A few of the robbers
escaped, but the others were shot like rabid dogs.
One of Harpe's last acts had been to kill the
wife of a planter. The planter chopped Harpe's
head from his shoulders and placed it in the
notch of a limb on Lonesome Oak, where the
fight had occurred, and so the long feud ended.
CAIN'S MARK
A VIRGINIAN named Mortimer, who had

suffered reverses in his own State, sold
his property, all but a couple of slaves, and with
his wife, two sons, and the two servants removed
to :Murphy, :North Carolina, where he lived for
a few years in mean retirement, and died poor.
Soured by this change from affluence to penury,
the widow fancied that she owed some manner of
316
grudge against humanity, for she had been
brought up to belieyc that labor was beneath
the dignity of white people, and she taught
hardness of spirit and conduct to her boys; en-
couraged them in sharp practice in dealings with
neighbors; supplied them with arms and praised
them for the taking up of quarrels, tolerated
harshness and suspicion in them, urged them to
gain wheneyer they could, and if need be to
defend eyery personal right by yiolcncc. Such
teachings bore their fruit. The elder of the
sons had lent a few dollars to the younger, and
after the time agreed upon for payment had
gone by he demanded the money, swearing that
if it were not in hand within a few hours he
would have his debtor's blood.
Toward evening the mother heard the young
men in high talk at the gate, and went out to
learn what was the matter. Almost as she came
between them there was a report; the woman
gaye a cry, for the ball fired by the elder SOli
had cut off her forefinger as she was raising

her hand; then the bullet, entering the forehead
of the younger, killed him instantly. The dead
man had raised a knife against his brothel', so
317
that the verdict of the coroner's jury was self-
defence. The mother was the only witness.
On the night of the acquittal Mortimer was
visited in his chamber by his victim, who plucked
out a few of his glossy auburn hairs and dis-
appeared. The man lay as in a trance, unable
to move or speak. On the next night the visit
was repeated, and every night thereafter, for
years. Each night the corpse had wasted a little,
until at last it had become a skeleton, and it was
unspeakably horrifying to the slayer to feel the
bony fingers plucking at his hair, his beard, his
eyebrows, his lashes, the hair on his hands. In
time he had lost every hair on his body, and
had become a marked man; though dreading the
comment and curiosity of the people, he trav-
elled from place to place, and went abroad
mostly at night, well muffled. Those who knew
him said that he bore the mark of Cain.
318
.A merican .M yths and Legends
HOW BILL STOUT SETTLED A

l\IORTGAGE
THIRTEEN miles from Russellville, Ken-

tucky, lived the Widow King, on a tract
of three hundred acres her husband had left to
her. He also left a mortgage, and although the
amount unpaid was less than four hundred dol-
lars, the widow's creditor was troublesome.
Unversed in business affairs, and hoping for a
good crop that would enable her to clear away
all indebtedness, she had recourse to a notorious
skinflint of Logan County, who protested an
interest in her and her orphans, and provided
her with the sum she wished-at sixty per (lent.
a year, compound interest. The crop that year
was but ordinary, so the widow sold a slave and
a horse. Next year it was ordinary, too, so she
parted with her other slaves and gave up furni-
ture, dishes, glass, and farming tools, retaining
only material enough for housekeeping; but
even this did not suffice, and the usurer posted
a foreclosure notice on her gate. Of course the
rascal had the law on his side, but there were
parts of the land in the first half century of
319
our history where the public opinion that made
law was higher than the law it made. Such was
thc faith of Major Bill Stout, who, having
served for several terms as sheriff, had resolved
himself into a committee for the administration
of justice, if not of law, and who inspired a
wholesome respect for himself and for right
conduct in the breasts of the unruly. Several
robberies, outrages, and murders were punished
by him, for he was an excellent shot, and his
right thus to act as judge, jury, and executioner
appears never to have been called into question
by his fellow-citizens, who, indeed, were grate-
ful to him for the saving of expense and bother.
The usurer who had possessed himself of
most of the 'Widow King's effects, and who was
now in a fine way to get her farm, was walking
through his corn-patch on a sunny afternoon,
wondering if a benign Providence would so
shape events that he would one day hold a mort-
gage on every house in Russellville and be able
to raise his interest charges to seventy-five per
cent., when he came to an abrupt stop, for he
found a cocked rifle at his breast and at the other
end of this weapon stool Bill Stout, looking par-
320
ticularly grim. In a great trembling the rascal
cried: "What is the matter, ~raj or? Why do
you point that gun at me? What have I done?"
" Oh, nothing to me, Harris, but Old Master"
(here the major glanced reverently aloft) "has
sent me to kill you and throw you into that hole.
He says you are not fit to live among men."
"Oh, ~rajor Stout, have mercy! Be good!
Have mercy!"
"Don't pray to me. I have nothing to do
with it. Pray to Old illaster. He may help you.
I can't."
"0, Lord, save my lifc. 0, Lord, be good
to my wife and children."
" Ah, that's good. Now, while you're at it,
put in a word for the widow and orphans you
have ruined."
" Yes-yes; have mercy on me, and on Jl.Irs.
King, and the King brats, and me, and--"
"Hold on, now. Pray for each one of the
King family, by namc."
" Yes, I'll do anything for them, and for you,
if you'll only spare me."
" Oh, you've decided on that, eh? Very well;
I may-mind, I don't promise, but I may-let
1.-21 391
you off if you give back her niggers and release
the mortgage."
" Oh! O-o-oh, my money! My money! To
think of being robbed of my hard-earned money,
like this! O-oh !"
The maj or raised the gun.
" Hold on! Hold on! I'll do it."
Stout had come prepared. The needful
papers, together with a quill and a vial of ink,
were in his pocket. He placed these on a smooth
log and Harris recorded his promise in steadfast
black and white, though the tears started and
his heart-strings tugged when he wrote the in-
troduction: "Of my own free will and consent,
I hereby," and so forth.
~faj or Stout resumed: " Now, I'll let you go,
perhaps, on two conditions. One is that you
meet me at nine o'clock to-morrow morning at
the clerk's office in Russellville and acknowledge
the release. If you fail in that I'll chase you,
if it's from Lake Superior to the Gulf of Mex-
ico, and kill you on sight. The other is that you
shall not mention my part in this affair to any-
body. You have no witnesses, for that matter,
but if this meeting were known the widow
3£:.3
American :1\Iyths and Legends
might refuse to take back her property. Under-
stand ?"
" I understand."
The major watched Mr. Harris as he went
homeward, clutching at his hair and beating his
breast. Then he looked at his rifle, whistled
down the barrel of it, and departed. N ext morn-
ing the 'Vidow King came into her own again,
Major Stout looked large and happy, and Mr.
Harris, albeit aged and worn, experienced a new
sensation, for the clergyman spoke to him pleas-
antly and the townsfolk lifted their hats and
shook his hand.
SOME GEORGIAN LYCANTHROPY
~ NELY, unprogressive, oblivious of the

progress made elsewhere in the world, the
mountaineers of the Alleghanies live a life apart,
a prey to countless superstitious fears. Theirs
is a land where one slips back into the se'·en-
teenth century, where great hills and yawning
gulfs seem to have cut them off from the advance
of learning, as from those creature comforts so
common in the humblest coast and prairie towns;
SgS
American J\J:yths and Legends
where the man who is hysterically religious on
Sunday and during camp-meeting distils moon-
shine whiskey for a livelihood, and shoots reve-
nue officers who threaten to disturb him; where
black and white magic flourish, and one may buy
the service of the devil by scouring a tin plate
in some remote cave or glen and avowing, "I
will be as clear of Jesus Christ as this plate is
of dirt." Here the future is still forecast by
ceremonies, hearts are won by charms, and the
coming of death is foretold by the howling of a
dog, the aspect of the bark of three trees, a wild
bird flying into the doomed house, a door open-
ing by itself, and knocks on the window. The
white dog that haunts Trout Run, the black dog
that scares the belated farmer in Chatata Valley,
the white stag of Sequatchie, the headless bull
that speeds over Big Frog Mountain, the bleed-
ing horse to be met in the passes of the Great
Smoky Mountains, the gray wolf that appears
on Piney Ridge at midnight, the goblin of
Haunted Hollow, in Rockingham County, that is
at first one animal and becomes another while
you look at it; the bear of Crackwhip Furnace
that screams in a human voice; the invisible
324
monster in the same neighborhood that beats
horses, but is frightened away by the name of
God, and cannot chase a victim across running
water; the ignis fatuus, here called Jack Polant,
that one is compelled to follow when it beckons;
the phantom brute that haunted a cruel slave-
owner to confession of murder and death; the
buried miser who walked in the company of two
women, who had killed him for his money, till
they shrank to skeletons through the misery of
his company, and died in agony; the headless
herald of misforhme who rides about Indian
Fort, in the Cumberlands; corpses that lie in
rooms of deserted houses, and when the coroner
goes to remove them have disappeared without
disturbing the dust on the floor; witches who
ride horses to exhaustion at night, unless the
steeds are anointed with asafretida and lard;
and people who become beasts of prey at certain
hours, make the mountains mysterious and terri-
ble. "Harnts," likewise, or haunts, pervade the
woods, watch beside tombs, and pester decent
people in their homes. One woman, who had
exacted from her husband an oath that he would
always remain a widower after her death, was
3£!5
so distressed by his second marriage and the
breaking of his word that his house became
almost untenable. She floated about in the murk,
sobbed, sighed, and as she passed the faithless
one or any of his relatives on the stairs the
atmosphere in which she had enveloped herself
was so chill it froze them almost to the heart.
Of all the evil beings that trouble the hills
none are more dreaded than the lycanthropes-
the witches who take the forms of animals. One
of these creatures, who had been seen in his
proper human form to walk on water and to rise
in air, sat on the chest of a physician's sister-in-
law, night after night, not in the shape of a
nightmare, but of a wild-cat, and so pressed her
to death. Kinchefoonee Swamp, in Georgia,
where the negroes fish for bream in the daytime,
willingly enough, but who cannot be persuaded
to go about there after sunset, because of the
spooks, was for a long time the home of a swan.
This bird was an evil spirit in disguise, and it
carried trouble and illness to e,'ery settlement
in which it was seen. Many attempts were made
to shoot it, but all were unavailing until a clear-
eyed, steady-handed army officer sent a bullet
3£16
through its heart, and by general consensus the
illness and trouble ceased on that day.
One of the most remarkable accounts of ly-
canthropy comes from Fannin County, Georgia,
where the Great Smoky ::\Iountains end. A
miller, who Ih'ed in a long, low room just off
from the place where he ground his wheat, died
suddenly of a disease no physician could deter-
mine. Before his death he attempted, but in
"aiu, to tell something to his friends that they
believed had a bearing on the cause of his illness,
but his gestures were feeble and his words ram-
bling. A second miller took the place, and in
time a third, and both died in the same fashion.
The mill was avoided for awhile, with fear.
At last a neighbor who lived down the stream
offered to run the mill, if he could have it on
easy terms, and the owner allowed him to take it.
He took an axe with him, cut some wood, and
started a great blaze in the fireplace. As he
applied the match a brindle cat slipped out of
the chimney and walked tamely about the room,
sometimes rubbing against his legs. Seated
before the fire, he brought out his Bible and read
it with diligence; yet he could not repress a
3~7
sense of something wron q, of something im-
pending. The cat began to scratch and cry,
after a little, looking ask ant at him and his book,
and begging to be let out. He read on. Pres-
ently he glanced down and saw the animal
crouched before him with a baleful light in her
eyes-eyes he had seen before, and not in the
head of a cat. A shock of fright and repulsion
went through him. He grasped his axe, made a
blow at the creature, and cut off a forefoot.
'With a woman's scream, the cat leaped up the
chimney and disappeared. Shaken and anxious,
the man hurried home. His wife, in her human
shape once more, had lost a hand. She bled to
death.
THE WHITE BRIDE OF ST. SIMON'S
THERE was a day when King's Retreat was

a famous centre of hospitality. Thomas
Butler King built it on St. Simon's Island, off
the Georgia coast, and took most pleasure there
when others found pleasure in his company.
This island, where John \Vesley preached his
first American sermon and Aaron Burr was once
328
in hiding, was often visited by the rice planters,
whose slaves rowed them across from the main-
land, and the Retreat shone with light and was
gay with laughter and music until the small
hours. Among its guests, along in the forties,
was a lawyer from Liberty County, with his
young and lovely wife. They had been invited
to King's Retreat to spend their honeymoon.
Unluckily, another guest was there, a planter
who a few years before had sued for the hand
of the bride and had been rejected. Sense and
breeding would have dictated a return to his own
plantation; but he lacked both, and found a
bitter pleasure in watching the endearments of
the pair and thinking that but for this rival the
highest earthly happiness might have been his
own. He drank more freely after dinner than
he should have done, and in a harsh and forget-
ful moment he made a slighting and resentful
allusion to the bride. With tIle hot blood of the
South boiling in his veins, the husband struck
him in the face. There was in that day but one
way to restore peace after such a quarrel, and
that was for one or the other party to slay his
opponent.
829
Back of King's Retreat is Lover's Lane, an
avenue of live-oaks a mile and a half long, beau-
tiful, yet funereal in its drapery of moss. The
avenue has grown darker, the vista more solemn,
with every year, for an end has come to the
gaieties on St. Simon's, and the comfortable old
mansion has lapsed deeper into decay from the
autumn of its desertion. After dark Lover's
Lane never has a visitor, and the negro laborers
are more afraid of it than if pestilence walked
there visibly. For on the night of the insult
the husband and the planter met under the live-
oaks, with only a faint moon to light them.
They were in the swing of the fight, steel beating
against steel, quick rusheti and stamping feet,
breath labored and free arms tossing, when a
cry, near at hand, startled both of the duellists,
and as by spoken consent they faced suddenly
toward the point from which it had come, the
lawyer, holding his rapier, advanced slightly as
he peered into the shadow. Instantly came the
flash of a white dress, a voice spoke his name,
and two arms would have circled his neck, but-
the bride had run upon her husband's sword and
had innocently accomplished her own destruc-
330
tion. Her happiness ended in his embrace. The
duel was resumed now with a deadly fury, and
the insulter was presently stretched lifeless upon
the sod. From that hour a darkness deeper than
the night overspread the existence of the hus-
band. And still one will see the flash of that
white dress, if he watches late, and hear the
echo of a cry. That is why the negroes avoid
Lovers' Lane. That is why King's Retreat is
falling into ruin. The white bride walks there.
THE DRINKING OF SWEET WATER
~ GOOCHIE, the Puck of Indian sprites

that flitted about the swamps and woods
of Georgia, was not with the wood divinities
when they met on the Flower Island of Oke-
finokee to discuss the strange race that had
landed on the shores. For, though Logoochie was
a merry elf, whose tricks and whims amused
the other spirits, he so loved the Southland
woods and waters that he would not listen to any
talk of leaving them. He hid in a hollow tree
and gave himself to bitter thought. Saltilla,
three-eyed messenger of the gods, sought for
331
hours through his play-grounds, but did not find
him. Like the moths and beetles that imitate
the leaves and bark they rest against, he was not
easy to see, when he chose to remain quiet; for
his face was brown and wrinkled, his cheeks
were puckered like pine-knots; his back was as
rough as a pine-cone; his little red eyes snapped
and twinkled when they were open, but when
shut you did not see the wrinkles where they
had disappeared; his nose was fiat, his mouth
was wide, he was short, bow-legged, and his
knobbed hands ended in claws, like a panther's.
Yet, with all his ugliness of look he was gentle,
and the hunters hated him only because he turned
aside their spears and arrows when they went
to slay the deer.
The sprites resolved to leave their home in
the woods and follow the Creek Nation to the
'Vest, where other tribes were assembling; but
Logoochie stayed. Sometimes at nightfall he
could be seen scampering among the pines and
savannas, startling red laggards, and even more
the white pioneers who were setting up strange
lodges on the Sweet 'Vater-the village they
called St. Mary's. Trees began to fall under
SSg
the white man's axe. Logoochie crept to their
houses in the night, and bent and gnawed their
tools, till he saw that with a magic of their own
they made them straight again.
Then that which so often happens among men
befell Logoochie. From fear and hate he grew
to tolerance. He could not leave his country
vexed and blighted as it was. And he even
found a new pleasure in frightening these pale-
faces till they grew yet paler. He would drop
into their paths, almost under their feet, as they
returned from the hunt, and startle them with
a squeal or a hiss. He would bound upon their
shoulders from an overhanging bough; and
before they had caught breath again he was lost
in the undergrowth, and they heard his shrill,
defiant laugh going into the distance. He would
make threatening faces at them from the copse
as they went to their day's work, and at night
he would prowl along the edges of their town
and sound the call of fierce animals.
But they were not such a bad people, after
all, these men with the sick faces. They fought
less than the red men; they never scalped and
tortured; once in seven days they were sober;
333
sometimes it seemed as if they were trying to be
good. The wood sprite shuddered when he
heard the crash and groaning of the trees under
the saws and axes, but he spread his nostrils and
enjoyed the flavor when the cutters smoked in
their camps at evening,-for they smoked more
furiously than the Indians, and tobacco was Lo-
goochie's special incense.
A girl of the settlement, wandering by the
Sweet \Vater, came upon the imp, who was gog-
gling fearfully, gasping, grunting, and hugging
his foot. The poor creature was suffering, and
although it cost an effort to overcome her repug-
nance, she went to his help. He had alighted
on a thorn, as he leaped from a tree. She with-
drew the thorn and bound healing leaves upon
the wound-a service that he acknowledged in
the most frightening grins and gibbering. In-
deed, he went through such antics in his joy
that the maid was like to faint from dread.
Yet, he had a voice that was almost music; it
was a voice she had often heard in the pines,
and had never understood, till now. He said:
"The daughter of the white people is good.
She shall never come to harm in the forest. Thc
334
American l\1yths and Legends
green people of the wood will watch her when
she rambles by the water. If she sleeps, they
will shadow her face and sing drowsy songs in
the branches. They will drive away the snake
if it comes near, and they will whisper comfort
if she has sorrow. This, and more: If the white
maid suffers from forgetfulness, she shall bring
her loyer back, through the spell I put upon this
water."
The fright of the girl had passed, and a
blush appeared. Her eycs fell under the gaze
of the elf. He chuckled, as in delight at his
own shrcwdness, for he had guessed her secret.
She loved an adventurous fellow of St. Mary's,
who that very day told her he had resolyed to
be a sailor that he might see the wonders of the
deep, and strange countries, and wrest treasure
from the enemies of his king. She could not
consent to this, eyen if the treasure were that of
the king himself. Beyond all fame and riches
she held himself.
Logoochie plucked red berries from a bush
that oyer hung the water and cast them into the
middle of the stream, muttering strange words
and waving his arms. The stream boiled, and a
335
little whirlpool appeared. Then the berries were
drawn down, and the surface was still again.
" Make him drink of this," whispered the sprite,
and with a bound he disappeared in the wood.
That night, while the moon was rising and
balmy odors breathed from the forest, the lovers
walked beside the branch of the Sweet \Vater.
It was to be their last walk together. Tears
brimmed from the girl's eyes, and the young
man was silent and thoughtful. When they
reached the place where they had been used to
rest during their rambles the girl dipped a gourd
into the stream and gave it to her lover. He
emptied it at a draught, refilled it, and gave it
to her. She too drank from it. And he did
not go to sea, and the girl was a happy bride
soon after. Logoochie disappeared, but his spell
still lives, and they who drink of the charmed
flood will never leave the country of the Sweet
Water.
336
NANCY HART
I N Hart County, Georgia preserves thc name

and fame of a hcroine who may truly be
said to have" flourished" during the R evolution.
N allCY Hart was not one of those willowy sylphs
with hair of sunbeams, violet eyes, and a voice
of music that are heroines of popular fiction.
On the contrary, she was nearly six feet high,
red faced, red haired, cross eyed, big fisted,
stern of speech and countenance, she walked
with a man's stride, and woe betide the unhappy
wight who disagreed with her. Two virtues
made her admired in all the country-side-her
cooking and her patriotism. " Thether or not
they knew as much about her loyalty as they
did of her skill, it was unfortunate for a certain
party of Tories that they presumed on both of
these qualities; for in one of their forays they
came to Nancy's cahin when it was time to eat,
and rather forcibly suggested that she might
prepare a dinner for them. She allowed that
she might, and did. It was a good one, also;
good beyond expectation. They resigned them-
selves wholly to the joy of it, and stacked their
1.-22 331
loaded guns in a corner, without further thought
of using them.
These unbidden guests were eating and rois-
tering, passing a bottle, too, that they carried
for just such occasions, when their hostess, pre-
tending an errand in the corner where the arms
had been placed, caught up one of the muskets
and cried: " You are prisoners. I will kill the
first that stirs."
Not believing the sincerity of this threat, one
of the company sprang up and ran toward her,
extending his hands as if to seize his gun. He
fell dead, on the instant, with a charge of buck-
shot in his heart; and before his companions
could rise Nancy had a second weapon in her
grasp, and was prepared to deal death to any
other rash one. Her little son had meanwhile
scampered to the quarters of a colonial troop,
not far away, and to the captain of that com-
mand Mrs. Hart was pleased to deliver six burly
allies of King George who had been a sore vexa-
tion to her neighborhood.
338
THE CELLS OF FORT MARION
EVERYone who goes to St. Augustine, Flor-

ida, visits Fort Marion, the Spanish castle
that is stoutest built, and so best preserved, of
the relics of the place. And viewing its dismal
vaults by torchlight the tourist half believes the
tale of strangers rescued at the last gasp and
overcome by the carbon dioxide in the atmos-
phere. Several of these vaults were prisons,
without a doubt. Structurally they have no part
in the aefensive plan, hence they could not be
casemates; and it is rumored that one or two
had openings, like those of the moro of Havana,
whence objects could be shunted into the moat,
that the ebbing tide might carry them to sea.
In one of these abysms, which had been walled
up but was discovered by a prying soldier after
the lapse of at least a century, were found two
crumbling skeletons, in chains. And across the
space of time comes the whisper of their mean-
ing. For one, when it walked the earth, had
been the Dona Dolores; and the other, a young
captain of artillery. If you would know the
resting-place of the third and dominant figure
339
in the tragedy, you must seek through the
churches of Spain for a handsome tomb, sculp-
tured with the arms of a proud family, and
bearing a list of titles and honors on the tablet.
That is where the commandant of St. Augustine
lies buried. His wife and rival became ashes
here, in the forgotten dungeon of Fort Marion.
It is the old story. Rightly or wrongly the
commandant believed the Dona Dolores faith-
less; and to the Spaniard infidelity in woman
is the gravest of offences. After long espionage,
the elder officer had fixed on Captain Manuel
as her guilty companion. Not a shade of differ-
ence in his bearing toward either of the suspects
marked his distrust, or his resolve, except that
possibly he was more affable toward his sub-
ordinate, and his deference to his wife was more
obvious, in company. She could have had no
fear of his discovery when she went to his office,
obedient to his summons. Never was her dark
beauty more affecting, her nobility and grace
more consummate. For a moment after they had
been left alone together the general regarded
her with frank admiration. He even made a
step toward her, and she smiled graciously, as
340
if she had expected to be taken to his arms; but
he checked himself, and, gazing fixedly into her
eyes, spoke in a tone and in words that droye all
color from her cheeks and caused her eyes to
start like those of a hunted animal. "I know
your story, and will spare your telling it. Since
your heart is no longer mine, I will not claim
your obedience. You shall be with your lover
to-night, and henceforth."
Almost fainting to her knees, the woman
would still ha,'c spoken; but her husband by a
stern gesture imposed silence. "Do not add
falsehood in words to faithlessness in deed," he
commanded. "As in shame you have liYed, in
shame you shall die."
There was no escape. The guard was set.
The gates of the fort were closed.
" You have chosen between us," the veteran
continued. "Abide, then, by your choice. And
say your prayers; for by this time to-morrow
you will be in heaven-or hell-beyond need of
them. Go to your chamber. You will soon be
called."
Hardly had she gained the privacy of her
room and flung herself upon her bed in an agony
341
American J\tlyths and Legends
of remorse and terror, when Captain n-Ianuel
entered the general's office to turn over his charge
as officer of the day. The general made no
answer to his report, and under his keen and
steady gaze the younger officer grew confused.
After a time the elder said: "You have never
made a confidant of me in your love affairs,
Captain."
" \Vhat love affairs?" stammered the young
man.
"I know your secret," declared the com-
mandant.
" I insist that you make your meaning clear,"
demanded the captain.
"I shall do so, presently; but we will not
discuss it. Enough that you are a thief of honor,
a betrayer, a scoundrel. I reduce you to the
ranks. Your sword, sir."
Captain Manuel started with rage and aston-
ishment. He trembled in his eagerness to harm.
" You lie!" he shouted. "And as for my sword,
I will plant it in your heart before I will sur-
render it to any foe, especially to one of my own
country." Darting forward, he aimed a blow
with his fist at the face of the general. "Draw,
34Z
and fight," he commanded, "or I will kill you
unarmed."
But Sergeant Calixto was close at hand. He
was a sturdy fellow, and he had the young officer
at a disadvantage, because he attacked him from
the back. He caught the captain's descending
arm. The captain tried to draw his sword. The
sergeant wrenched his wrist, and his arm fell,
crippled, at his side.
"This is well," exclaimed the commandant,
in a tense, low tone, and with teeth gleaming
through his grizzled moustache and beard.
" You add mutiny to dishonor. The way is now
clear to punishment. In me you see the author-
ity of Spain. You attack that authority. You
shall die, not as a soldier, but as a traitor. Not
even the satisfaction of friendly tears shall be
given to you. None-but one-will know your
tomb. The time and way of your death may be
guessed by those who open your tomb here-
after."
In the small hours that night two figures,
bound and muflled, helpless in the grasp of
Calixto and his men, are taken across the court
from the officers' quarters to an arched entrance
343
of the casemates. If they pause before the
chaplain's cell it is only for a moment. A solid
door opens into a chamber without air or light;
a door immovable from the inside. The two
figures disappear into the gloom; then is heard
the sound of hammers, closing rivets. The ar-
morer withdraws, and the cell is empty-save
for these two and the commandant, the latter
looking at them by the light of a pine-knot in
his hand. He waits till the cadenced step of
the departing squad has echoed to silence down
the corridors, then steps forward and removes
the mumes from their heads and the gags from
their mouths.
"God's curse upon you!" cries the captain.
The commandant does not change color nor
change his attitude, as he looks on them for the
last time. A dark smile wrinkles his cheeks.
"Good-night to both, and pleasant sleep," is
his parting. The door clangs, a key grates in
the lock; and there is silence.
344
THE CALOOSAHATCHIE SHE-MAN
.N0NG the Caloosahatchie, in Florida, they

tell of a queer fellow known as the She-
Man. It is believed that the death of his wife
had unbalanced him, for shortly after that event
he appeared in her clothing. The hunters and
settlers had never seen such a freak, and were
disposed to make fun of him; but a look gen-
erally quieted them, the She-!\Ian's eyes being
black and lowering, while his hands were broad
and sinewy. At first he may have worn a
woman's dress for no better reason that that he
was far from settlements where coats and trou-
sers were sold, Myers village being fifty miles
down the river; but he grew accustomed to his
garb, old and tattered though it was, held to his
thin frame by a dried snake-skin, and he wore
it until his last day. His housekeeping was not
of a feminine nicety. His home was a cabin of
slabs, his bed a heap of raw cotton, his chair a
cypress knee; his dishes were gourds; his fire
burned on a flat stone, and he lived on fish and
corn. In a pool not far away lived his pet alli-
gator, Devil, who obeyed his master like a dog
345
and relied on him to supply food when times
were hard in the swamp. Devil and he had been
friends for many years. The man had raised
the 'gator from infancy.
Some time before this poor, daft creature had
settled in his clearing beside the Caloosahatchie
lIe had quarrelled with a man of pride and prop-
erty, one Morgan, who claimed descent from the
pirate of that name, but after withdrawing to
the wilderness he supposed that he had seen the
last of this neighbor. This was not to be, for
some years later, while hunting in the wood, he
came face to face with Morgan. The old pirate
blood had warmed within him on a chance to gain
some wealth he had not earned, and after his
robbery he had fled to a part of the State where
he was not known, for he did not care to trust
his money in banks or industries, and had
brought it with him in a chest. The She-Man
knew nothing of all this, and, forgetting his
quarrel, greeted his old enemy cheerily and
asked him to supper at his house. Visitors were
few in those parts, and he was eager for com-
pany. Morgan was affable. He chatted with
the settler, his wife, and his boy, Jimmy, and
346
American }\lyths and Legends
asked the latter to go fire-hunting with him that
night, promising to pay him well. The lad con-
sented. Not returning at the expected hour, his
mother took her knife and pistol, for defence
against wild animals, and went out in the star-
light to look him up, while the father took
another path. He discO\"ered no fresh trail, so
he resolved to bring his wife back lest she should
penetrate too deeply into the wood and be unable
to find her way out. At dawn he literally stum-
bled upon her, lying as one dead on the forest
floor. She breathed, but that was all. By an
exhausting effort he carried her back to their
home. Home? No, their house was a smolder-
ing ruin. A little before the woman died, for
the sight she saw that night was a fatal stroke,
she recovered her power of speech. She had
seen her boy helping ~Iorgan to carry a chest
from a boat on the rh"er to the bank. A pit had
been dug for it. As Jimmy stooped to press it
more securely into place, Morgan passed behind
him, drew a dagger, and stabbed the boy in the
back. Jimmy sank into the hole, limp and dead.
Did the villain wish to kill his only witness,
or did he hold the supcrstition of his pirate
347
ancestor, that stolen treasure was safest under
guard of the dead? The woman fell to the
earth in a catalepsy, while Morgan filled the
grave, concealed it with brush, and, not knowing
that his crime had been seen, hurried away to
apply the torch to the house, for if the lad's
parents. lived they might make vexing searches
and inquiries. After the death of his wife and
son the settler, who from that time forth began
to be known as the She-Man, built a cabin near
the ashes of his former home and bided his time.
Though he did not know exactly where it had
been hidden, he felt sure that if Morgan lived
he would one day return for his money. And
he was right. Years went by, but they brought
the murderer at last. He arrived in secret, and,
following the river shores for a time, guided by
certain marks, he came to the foot of a stout
pine, where, after looking cautiously about him,
he began to dig. Presently he threw out a
human bone. It fell at the feet of a figure that
made him start with astonishment and dread:
a lank, brown, bearded man, in a torn gown
belted with snake-skin, glaring at him from the
shadow of a sun-bonnet.
348
" In God's name, what arc you?" gasped
Morgan.
" Don't call on God. Call on the Devil, for
he will take you. I'm Jim Baines."
:Morgan dropped his spade, his face turned
ashen, and he fell to his knees. 'With a hoarse
yell, the She-Man leaped upon him. He was
like a beast with a thirst for blood. Lifting and
dragging the murderer, who seemed to be para-
lyzed with terror, he reached the pool where his
sinister-looking pet was lying.
" Here, Devil!" he called. And as the great
alligator opened his jaws Morgan was hurled
into the water. His revenge accomplished,
Baines died shortly after;. and the treasure is
anybody's, for the taking.
THE BLOOD-ROSE
THEY say that you can find the real blood-

rose, or Grant rose, only in the western
part of Jefferson County, Florida, and that all
attempts at transplanting or raising it from
slips of the original stock have failed. It is a
strong plant, with light, glossy green leaves, but
349
it flourishes only within five miles of the scene
of the tragedy that named it. The flowers have
incurving petals of the color of arterial blood,
the odor they give off is sickly and unpleasant,
and old residents of the county insist that the
dew which drips from them has a cast of pink.
John and Nellie Grant built a house near the
Aucella River in 1834, and in the next year
a child was born to them. The Seminoles of that
region had become uneasy, but the settlers felt
no alarm, for they were sur'e that the government
would persuade the Indians to peace, either by
fresh promises-made to break-or by a great
slaughter, before they could take the war-path.
Fatal confidence! John Grant left his home on
a September evening to ride to town, which was
a long way off, with the promise to return next
day. He could not keep that promise, for six
miles from his home he fell into an ambush of
the Seminoles and was shot. His scalp was torn
off and his body flung into the river. Then the
red men marched silently to the house. The
hunting dog, lying outside, sniffed and whined.
The anxious mother roused and listened. There
was a loud yell and a rush of many feet. The
350
woman raised a loose, wide board in the floor,
and, with her baby in her arms, dropped through
into the cellar and escaped to the woods, which
were soon lighted by the glare of her burning
cabin. The Seminoles were quick to find her
means and way of flight, and ere long she and
her infant had shared the fate of John Grant.
A few years later the blood-rose appeared on
the spot that the mother and the baby had dyed
with their blood.
ST. MARY'S PARADISE
ST. MARY'S RIVER, which partly separates

Georgia from Florida, rises in a great
swamp which in a rainy season becomes almost
a lake. The Creeks maintained the existence
there of a large space of high and fertile ground,
which was an earthly paradise. It was peopled
by a race superior to their own, whose men were
strong and bold, and the women the fairest in
the world. This land is defended against the
approach of the unfit by labyrinthine streams
and inlets, expanses of quaking bog, malarial
mists, and entangling woods. Creek hunters who
351
had been lured far from their homes in the chase
of game reported that they had seen the island;
but on every attempt to gain its shores it seemed
to move farthel' and farther across the swamp,
while the paths and openings they followed in-
variably led them back to their tracks. Here
were birds of sweet song and brilliant plumage;
great flowers opened their riches of color and
perfume to butterflies that rivalled them in gor-
geousness; the rocks, like the laxas de musica
of the Orinoco, gave out music; game was plenty
in the wood; fruits were to be had for the pick-
ing, and clear, cold fountains flowed with health,
giving assurance of life to all that drank from
them. This may have been the land to which
the good were admitted after death-a land
where they were so happy that lamentations for
them were wrong. Some of the Southern In-
dians would weep at first sight of a European,
believing him to be one of their friends re-
turned from the land of souls. Unless his visit
were to be a short one, it would seem as though
it were the exile had the better cause for tears.
359

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1 9~;.

FLOWERS IN THE PAVE

Philadelphia 6' London

Published October, I903

Printed bJ J. B. Lippin cott Compan}

DR. JOSEPH H. HUNT

THE greeting to my first book has encour-

THE SMOKING PINE •• •••••••••••••••••• ••••• ••• 13

THE GREAT STONE FACE •••••••••••••..••••••... 40

STONE 'VOllfAN OF SQUAnf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

THE LONG SLEEP •••••••••••••••.•.•••.•.••.•••• 63

TOM DUNN'S DANCE ON RAG ROCK •••••••••••••• 69

WOBURN GHOSTS ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 73

THE BREAKING OF PLYMOUTH ROCK •••.••••••••• 81

THE Lon:us UNITED ••• ••••••••••••••••••••••••• ~07

THE XIAGARA THUNDEU GOD ••.•••••••••••••.•• ~ 1.J,

THE DEATH ON THE PALISADES • •.••••••••••••••• 218

THE SPOOKS OF SCHOOLEY'S 1IIOUNTAIN .••••••••• 2;:?·t

THE LONETOWN ?lInTERY •••••••••••••••••••••• 238

ROSE O'l\IALLY AND CALlXTO •••••••••••••••••••• 244

THE MAN WITH THE SKATES • • • . . . . . . • • . . • . • . • . • 260

A PHILADELPHIA EXCITEMENT •••.•••••••••••••• 270

THE DEVIL'S RACE-COUitSE •••.•••.••.•••••••••. 282

THE VIRGINIA WITCH •••••••••• •• • •••.••••••.• 303

SCHOOLE Y'S MOU N TAI N. • . • • • . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •. 994,

the bank of the brook that bears the name

VARIOUS GRINDSTONE HILL

N EAR the west branch of the Penobscot

like a pumpkin. l\Ielgasoway did not dare to go

NELL HILTON'S ghost will appear on

A SHOT IN THE MOONLIGHT

ON the Stroudwater road, leading out of

THE RESCUE OF MOLLY FINNEY

IN 1756 Thomas Mains had cleared some acres

DEAD MAN'S LEDGE

D EAD MAN'S LEDGE, near Gull's Head,

:MAINE'S WOODLAND TERRORS

IT is feared that some of the creatures which

THE GREAT STONE FACE

A FTER the venerable Passaconaway had

THE STREAM-SPIRIT'S WIFE

AN Indian living in the vast amphitheatre of

STONE WOMAN OF SQUAM

S QUAM LAKE, in the White Mountains,

THE CONFESSION OF HANSERD

IT is not generally known that Hawthorne's

pEABODY'S LEAP, a cliff thirty feet high

THERE is one narrative, formerly common

THE ESCAPED NUN

A. LL trace of it is gone now: the convent

THE LONG SLEEP

M OUNT MIANOMO, or Rag Rock, in

TOY DU~~~ DANCE ON RAG ROCK

RAG ROCK, in which Wabanowi had his

T HE ancient town of 'Woburn, Massachu-

HOW THE BLACK HORSE WAS BEATEN