Within about eight miles of Harpers Ferry is a sleepy hamlet which has quite a history in connection with several prominent men of the Revolution. It is called Leetown, and it has been heretofore mentioned in this history as the scene of a brisk skirmish in the war of the rebellion. As before noted in this book, it got its name from General Charles Lee who, after the censures incurred by him for his conduct at the battle of Monmouth, buried himself here in gloomy seclusion. Very near this village is also a house occupied by General Horatio Gates, of more honorable fame in our war for independence, and still another revolutionary general—Darke—lived in the immediate neighborhood of the place. So, then, a sauntering tourist might spend a little time pleasantly enough in visiting the neighborhood. It is but a few minutes' drive from "Wizard Clip" and a curiosity seeker might easily take in many noteworthy sights in the course of a day's jaunt from Harper's Ferry. About five miles north of Leetown and in the immediate neighborhood of the battlefield of Antietam, is Shepherdstown, which is, or at least ought to be known to fame, as the home of James Rumsey who, it has been pretty clearly proven, was the first to apply steam power to purposes of navigation. On the Potomac, at Shepherdstown or Mecklenburg, as it was then called, was the first experiment made of propelling a boat by steam power, and the trial was made with success by Rumsey. In his life-time he was regarded by his acquaintances as a visionary, if not a decided maniac, but time has vindicated him, although the honor of the invention has been generally assumed to belong to others. There can be but little doubt that Rumsey anticipated all the other claimants for the fame of the invention, although with them, too, it may be said to be original, as they probably knew nothing of Rumsey or what he had accomplished. Shepherdstown has a war record, also, for in a day or two after the battle of Antietam, a detachment of federal troops having crossed the Potomac into Virginia at the ford near the town, they were badly defeated by a force of the rebel army that attacked them unexpectedly.
Some ten or twelve years ago, a stranger arrived at Harper's Ferry and, without letting any one know what his business was, he purchased a pick and shovel, hired a horse and buggy, and drove up the Potomac taking the implements with him. He proceeded towards Shepherdstown, appearing to be very familiar with the road. When he arrived within a mile of the latter place, he halted, tied his horse to something available and looked around inquiringly. It took him but a short time to find what he wanted, for in a few minutes he approached a large tree and plied vigorously his pick and then his shovel around the roots. His labor was not in vain, for soon he exposed to view a fair sized box which he immediately transferred to the buggy, and at once returned to Harper's Ferry, without deigning to satisfy the curiosity of some parties who were attracted to the spot by the sight of him at work. It is generally supposed that he himself had buried a considerable treasure at the place while he was hard pressed by enemies at some time while the late war was in progress, and that, deeming it safe, and not being much in want of money, he had left it in its concealment for nearly thirty years. Some advanced the dream theory—that, in his sleep he had a vision of the buried treasure, but the stranger kept his own counsel and departed on the next railroad train for parts unknown.
THE ENCHANTER'S WHEEL.
Starting from the railroad bridge at Harper's Ferry and running northwest, with the railroad track for six miles to Duffield's Station, is a region that has ever been the home of wizards, witches and all kinds of adepts in occult lore, besides being a favorite resting place for gypsy caravans. The construction of the railroad many years ago was the first interruption to the dreams of magic, and, then, the civil war, with its very practical ideas and, above all, perhaps, the subsequent introduction of free schools have completed the delivery of the worthy inhabitants from the very galling yoke of many professors of the black art—African and Caucasian—who profited in money and reputation by the fears they excited and the fees they received for cures or immunity. In justice, it must be stated that the whites, mostly of German origin, were generally of a benevolent character and that the practice of their art was always directed to counteract the malevolence of the negroes who seldom devoted their mystic knowledge to any good purpose, especially where any member of their own race was concerned. They always appeared to have an instinctive dread of the superior race and were shy of practising on the white man, unless under very strong temptation. The gypsies alone keep alive the old order of things, appearing to have nobody to punish and every one to reward with a rich wife or a gallant husband for the trifle of crossing the sibyl's palm with a piece of silver. Indeed, they are not charged with molesting the person or property of any one. On the contrary, they are ever invoking the blessings of Venus, on the conditions above mentioned. Time has in no way changed their habits.
Two generations ago great was the fame of the professors—white and black—but now it is difficult to get any one of either color, unless some octogenarian, to relate what used to occur in the olden times. They appear to be afraid of the imputation of superstition. In this way many interesting and even poetic legends are likely to be lost.
Of the white seers the most renowned was the miller—John Peacher—a Pennsylvania Dutchman. He was a man of excellent reputation, and the only people who had any complaint to make of him were the evil doers, especially the thieves. It was useless for a thief to steal anything from John Peacher, for it had to be returned, and by the culprit himself, in broad daylight. Peacher's friends, too, if they reported to him any loss were merely told to wait a little for the stolen article. So, neither Peacher nor his friends ever complained to a law officer of any losses, feeling very certain that the missing would return. In consequence, it was no unusual sight to see seated on a fence near Peacher's mill, or the house of one of the miller's neighbors, a man, nearly always a negro, with a bundle of some kind tied up to suit the contents. There the visitor sat until late evening, if not asked to get off the fence and tell his business. Even then, it was with extreme difficulty that he could get off his perch, and some were known to invoke the assistance of the proprietor to unfasten them. The man was sure to be a thief, and the bundle always contained the stolen article, which was laid at the feet of the lawful owner—the proprietor of the place—Peacher or some one of his friends who had reported to him a robbery. On one occasion a wagoner on his way to Georgetown drove his team past Peacher's place and abstracted from a wagon that belonged to Peacher some part of the gearing, with which he proceeded to Georgetown, fifty-seven miles distant. Peacher soon discovered the loss but, as usual, he "lay low" and waited for the certain issue. In a few days a man was seen to approach Peacher's place early in the morning afoot and carrying an apparently heavy load. When he reached Peacher's gate, he climbed one of the posts and rested his load on the fence nearby. No one questioned him, for Peacher and his domestics recognized the articles, the loss of which was known to them from the time of the theft, and the presumption was that the man was the guilty one. There the culprit sat without a word until the benevolent Peacher thought that the penitent might be hungry and sufficiently humbled. Peacher invited the stranger to get off and come into the house to get something to eat, but the hapless thief was glued, as it were, to the seat and not 'till Peacher chose to break the spell could the crestfallen victim get off his perch. He then confessed his guilt and told how his conscience did not trouble him a bit until he reached Georgetown with his plunder, when some impulse forced him to leave his team in the city and walk back, carrying the stolen articles, instead of waiting for his regular return trip to make restitution. After his meal he commenced his journey back, afoot, to the city for his team and in some time after rode past Peacher's place on his home trip, but did not stop. How Peacher worked his charms he never revealed, except that he said he had a wheel by the turning of which, as the case demanded, he effected his wonderful exploits at thief-catching. The wheel he never exhibited. For many years after his death there was a common phrase in the neighborhood, "I'll introduce you to Peacher's wheel," whenever any one was suspected of knavish practices—especially a child or a superstitious person. It would take more space than we have allotted to ourselves to relate a tenth of the exploits of Peacher with his magic wheel.
THE WITCH'S OVERSIGHT.
Of an entirely different type as to nationality, color and moral standing, was Jesse Short, a disreputable negro scamp who enjoyed an immense reputation for powers of mischief, and who got credit for nearly every mysterious thing that occurred in the neighborhood, if only it was of a disreputable kind. Nearly all of the houses had low porches at their front doors, and the very narrow spaces underneath were enclosed with lattice work, so close that a robin could scarcely force himself inside and, if he could, he had very scant room to hop for a little exercise. It often happened, however, that in the early morning the ears of the family were greeted with the bleats or grunts of a well grown sheep or porker belonging to some neighbor that had found its way or for which a way had been found, in some uncannie manner to enter, and which had to crouch very low to find room for itself. But although an entrance had been found for it, there was no exit until the porch was torn down. All this and many other such pranks were put to the credit of Jesse until he enjoyed a fame equal to that of Michael Scott, and was the great terror of the country all 'round. Like John Peacher of better character, he performed too many feats for recital in this modest-sized book, but we will relate one that was witnessed, and is vouched for by at least two parties of unexceptionable character, who are still living, one of them being the victim of Jesse's unholy practices, who can still exhibit marks left on her person by the wizard's touch.