The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-06-23
a Human Mulberry Tree.
from the Philadelphia Press. !

could speak it would unfold most
wondef1al tale of transmigration, not
of the spiritual, but of the physical
kind. For the tree, of which the
stump y a melancholy relic, found
its biEth 10 a human death, and flour
ished and grew upon diet OF blood
and bones and coffin boards, like the
famo tree that sprang from the
grav' of Roger Williams. Linked
with the history of this stump there
is another history, equally curious,
lwbi llhcerns two churehes. one
" ~ torn CD es n aud forgotten,
the otAo' now standing in a fashion,
able quster of the city. Away back
in the bSinning of the present cen
tury, befre steamships were even
thought G, Mrs. Agnes, Duncan, a
good dsScoto dame of noble birth, set
sail In stot ship for the infant Re-
public. Wien in mid-ocean the ele.
ments set upa terrible hubbub, the
rain came own in torrents, the
waves rolled fountain high, and the
superstltlous Icotch dame, falling
upon her keens prayed for delivery,
voWlng in retuh for this boon from
merciful Providence to build and en-
dow a church Wien she should reach
dry land.
She arrived inPhiladelphia, and,
by her direction, frame church was
built on Tirteenthstreet, on the west
side, halfway between Market and
Filbert. The first pastor was the Rev.
Isaac McInniss, also a Scotchman.
The church grew and prospered, and
anumberof the congregation, for their
own convenience, established pri-
yate cemetery-the one now adioin-
ing the Academy of Natural Sciences.
This was in 1924. Mrs. Duncan
removed to Baltimore. A branch
church or chapel was established at
Twelfth and Walnut streets, presid-
ed over in spiritual sense by one
Rev. Blackwell, and afterward by
John Palmer, who will be remem-.
bered by many. Blackwell gave his
name to the little church on Thir-
teenth street. In the meantime the
Rafe Ai.g &c Ihnfss, Wfo, had grown
to be stout old gentleman, with
white hair, fell sick and died ofty-
phus fever. He was covered with a
winding sheet, laid in a coffin of fine
black walnut, and carefully deposited
in his own plot of ground in the pri-
vate cemetery. The years went by
and'the memory of Pastor McInniss
faded from the memory of all but
few. One fine day in spring a null
berry sapling pushed its way up
through the grass near the head of
the grave. Warm air and sunshine
favored its growth, and it soon de-
veloped into healthy tree, bearing
an abundance ofblood- red mulberries,
which the children in the neighbor-
hood monopolized as a fruit created
especially for the delectation of their
tender palates. Persons remarked
that the position of the mulberry tree
was a strange one, but to this day the
peculiar cause of its presence would
probably not be known had it not
been for quarrel which arose in the
Blackwell Church, and which finally
eliminated in the trustees claiming.
as the property of the church, the
little graveyard.
They were ousted and in revenge
ordered the bones of their ancient
pastor, McInniss, to be dug up and
removed. Forthwith to the grave
proceeded the trustees. The grave
digger drove his spade in the ground
aud scattered the damp dirt around.
Deeper and deeper into the ground
wef.s tho spade. The pile of earth by
his side grew in size. Sill there was
no sign of the coffin. Dismay was
depicted in the countenances of the
trustees. The spade became entang-
led in the roots of the mulberry tree.
When more dirt was removed it was
found that the roots had completely
filled that portion of the grave occu-
pied by the coffin, of which not so
much as fragment was left-only
two of the metal mountings of the lid
and a few nails. Not bone could
be found. The mulberry tree had
absorbed everything. Not even a
trace of bone or of the shroud was
there, although long time was spent
in the search. So nothing was there
to be dora but to scrape up q few
handful5 of dirt and cast them into
the pine box which the trustees had
brought along. The box was closed
and taken to Mount Moriah Gene.
terry, and there it now lies, no more
the bones of old Pastor McInness than
any hill of dirt which can be uicked