Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1861-08-21

in Pirates Glen and on Dungeon Rock, with
her merry laughter. Fiction, and even grave
history, have twined the romance of supersti-
tion about her name like ivy about mould
ering ruin. Many writer has built stories up
on the slightest foundation of an incident of
her life, and used her name without regard to
fact,-solely from the dictates of luxuriant
fancy. To this, however, she owes her wide
spread fame. The facts would show q not un-
common life for times when woman's life was
ceaseless toll that many,men of theIpreseht day
would shrink trOm-varied certainly by her
reputed power, in the exercise of which she
made many shrewd and some lucky guesses.
She sleeps in an old churchyard near the COM
mon, but there is nothing to mark the spot.
There those living who remember her
peaceful death and her burial but the story OF
her sudden removal by the devil in cloud of
sulphurous smoke will outlive them all.
The old house is now occupied by an old
lady named Cheever, daughter and son.
Her narrative OF the history of the place for
the last half century is very interesting. The
romance of the poor is peculiarly her own.
All her years (66) have been passed in Lynn,
and never save on two occasions has she left
its precincts, and then only to neighbOring
towns. But even this experience is made in-
teresting by the story of early privations and
q long life of toll, the struggles of widowhood
and cares of large family. When maiden,
her fortune was told by Moll Pitcher, who, af-
ter lthe stereotype fashion. promised her two
husbands and nine children, of which seven
were to be by the first. This part of the
prophecy was fulfilled, but she quantity says
she shall not expect the other two even if she
gets another husband.
Twilight had darkened into night, snd the
moon silvering the leaves, rendering darker
the shadows beneath, when, one evening,
stepped across the humble threshold, after
some hours passed over the cup and cap and
in listening to tales of the olden time. From
high in the air floated down an indstinct
strain of music that sounded ghostly In the
still night. l would fain have believed that
the spirit of the old Fortune teller lowered a.
bout the scenes Of her life and awoke the ac-
customed echoes with the old cradle songs
sung to the baby Rutland although [ knew
that some lovers on the summit of High Rock
were breathing song to the night, time, and
associations of the place, all favored the spir
itual theory, and as the music died away, in
my heart l bade adieu to the numberless
spirits l had summoned from the cracked tea
cup. Old ocean roared dirge for them and
lullaby for me, when sank to rest.
Lynn boasts also of a living treasure seeker.
Most persons have read and listened incredu-
lously to tales of these deluded men, who
have imagined sailors foolish enough to bury
money, and themselves wise enough to find it.
Superstition clings about the legends with all
its early force, and the gold is always supposed
to he guarded by demons whom silence rem
ders impOtent, but an uttered word gives pow
or TO transfer the treasure to another hiding
place. The story on which the mans labors
in question are founded in this: Four pirates
occupied glen now called "Pirates' Glen,''
near the Saugus river in this place, and after
some years of undisturbed possession, we're
one day surprised by a boat load ofthe Kings's
troops from cutter, and three of them cap
tured, carried to England and executed. The
fourth, named Thomas N Neal escaped to a rock
some two miles to the north, i'm which was
large cavern, and where quantity of treasure
had been previously placed by the piraes,-
where he lived pursuing the trade of shoe
maker, (even the legends of the town smack
of cowhide,) and occasionally coming to the
village for articles of food and clothing. The
great earthquake of 16-split the rock, and
forcing an immense piece into the mouth OF
the cavern, buried alive the miserable man
with his treasure The rock has since been
known as Dungeon Rock.
Some years ago one of the Hutchinsons,
who met with success in digging a well on
High Rock by clairvoyant directions, under
took, from Information derived from the same
source, to blast a passage through tho rock
into the supposed dungeon, and laid out
good carriage road to the spot, distance of
between two and three miles. This was soon
abandoned, when Hiram Marble, who was be-
fore, an iron founder in the State of New
York, determined to pursue the enterprise.
This was nearly ten years ago, and be still
continues bound to the rock. At first begun
from curiosity, perhaps credulity, his labors
were long directed by the spirits of the
buried pirates and others, through ssmedi-
um." Ten years of blasting and boring have
not been without their effect upon the rock of
hard porphyry, but as l believe the spirits
give little encouragement of the desired re-
suit.
There is but one way to look at place Of
this kind, and that is through the eyes and
with the feelings of implicit believer.
From the moment the feet strike the rock, all
scruples and unbelief must be banished. A.
lamp and guide ready, and enter the
dark passage, and half feeling our way down a
sloping ladder for some twenty feet, enter the
passage, which is about six feet high and four
wide, damp, almost wet, and cold as grave.
The red light flashes upon the rough sides
and roof, revealing the effect of many a ham
mer stroke or blast, and the voice sounds hol-
low in the echoes that come back to us from
the end. One hundred and ten feet into the
very bowels of the rock we press-how much
further lie the buried bones and treasure We
are treasure-seekers, now, every inch, and ca
gerly examine the walls and sound them with
the loose pieces of stone at our feet. We lis
ten With greedy ears to the tale of our guide,
and cast half fearful glances backward where
the Pickering light plays on the rough wall,
looking like gliding spirits in the gloom.
Here, where this bend takes place, stratum
OF different and softer stone was foretold by
the spirits, and the alteration in direction was
ordered. Ten years of mining-carrying
stone to the open air, and pumping out the
constantly accumulating wet, has taught pa
thence to Marble that we treasure seekers OF
an hour do not possess. We think it would
be by far the best way to lay few barrels OF
gunpowder at the end of the passage, and blow
the rock open at once, but our guide shakes