BRIDE OF PENNACOOK

THE legendary history of Lynn forms one of its most fascinating chapters. The limits of this work prevent more than the briefest reference to some of the more important of these events, although in number and interest they would suffice for a separate volume; and these naturally find a place where the sketches of the town end and those of the city begin. The pathetic tale of the Bride of Pennacook reaches farthest back into the shadowy vista of the past-

          " A story of the marriage of the chief
          Of Saugus to the dusky Weetamoo,
          Daughter of Passaconaway, who dwelt
          In the old time upon the Merrimack."

The story, in brief, is that Winnepurkit, as Morton has it, or, more properly, Winnepoyekin, son of Nanapashemet, sagamore of Saugus, when he came to man's estate, made choice, for his wife, of the daughter of Passaconaway, the great chieftain of the tribes inhabiting the Merrimack valley. Passaconaway was not only a mighty chieftain, but, if we may believe the early English chronicles of his doings, he was the most accomplished, wizard the New World ever knew. These learned and reverend writers gravely assert that, so skilled was he in the arts of necromancy, he could cause a green leaf to grow in winter, trees to dance, water to burn, and numberless things of a like marvellous nature, through his mystical invocations. The union of the young people was blessed by the great chieftain, and in due time Weetamoo was seated in her lord's wigwam on Sagamore Hill, with the broad bay spread out before her door, now shining like a burnished mirror in the sun, and then rolling its angry waves upon the beach in thunderous monotone, or dashing them upon the rocks of Little Nahant. Before long, however, a homesick longing for a sight of her father filled her heart, and like a kind husband, Winnepurkit sent her home, escorted by some of his most mighty men. The daughter was received with open arms, and the escort were cordially entertained and graciously dismissed. After a short stay she signified a desire to return to her noble husband, upon which her father sent messengers to Winnepurkit to notity him of the desire of his wife, and to request the Saugus sachem to dispatch a suitable guard to escort his wife back through the wilderness to her home. But here an unexpected difficulty arose, for Winnepurkit curtly told the messengers to carry word to his father-in-law, "That when his wife departed from him he caused his own men to wait upon her to her father's territories, as did become him; but now that she had an intent to return, it did become her father to send her back with a conyoy of his own people." Both were men of high spirit, and neither would yield, and so the poor princess was forced to remain with her father, at least for a time. Tradition has it, however, that her woman's wit found a way through or around the difficulty, and that she, after a while, made her way back to her husband's home. Whittier, however, gives a different and tragic ending to the tale. In his poem, the heart-broken Bride of Pennacook determines to return alone. She steals away from her attendant maidens, launches her frail canoe upon the swollen and threatening Merrimac, and is instantly swept

          "Down the vexed center of that rushing tide,
          The thick, huge ice blocks threatening either side,
          The foam-white rocks of Amuskeag in view,
          With arrowy swiftness-
          Down the white rapids like a sere leaf whirled,
          On the sharp rock and piled-up ices hurled.
          Empty and broken, circled the canoe
          In the vexed pool below, but where was
          Weetamoo? "

THE PIRATES' GLEN.

     About the year 1656, in the twilight of a pleasant evening, a strange vessel was seen to approach the shore off the mouth of the Saugus River, where she furled her sails and dropped anchor. When the shades of night had fallen, a boat was lowered, and four men rowed silently up the river to where it emerges from the hills. There they landed and turned into the woods. The strange visitors doubtless thought themselves unobserved, but those were perilous times, and sharp eyes had followed them. Many were the conjectures occasioned by these unusual movements. The next morning the settlers rose early to learn more of these unannounced visitors, but the stranger-vessel had disappeared, and no trace either of her or her singular crew could be found. The occurrence was a nine days' wonder among the settlers, but the interest had nearly died out when one day a workman at the Iron Works found a paper lying in a conspicuous place, running to the effect that if a certain quantity of shackles, handcuffs, and other articles named, were made and deposited with secrecy in a certain place in the woods, an amount of silver equal to their value would be found in their stead. The articles were made and deposited as directed, and on the following morning they had been taken away, and the money left as agreed upon. Some months later the four men returned, and selected one of the most secluded spots in the woods of Saugus for their abode; and interest is added to the tale by the statement that the pirate chief brought with him a beautiful woman. The place of their retreat was a narrow valley shut in on two sides by craggy, precipitous rocks, and screened on the other by a thick growth of evergreens. The spot was admirably chosen for concealment and observation as well, for from the cliff on the eastern side of this glen a noble expanse of country and sea, stretching far toward the south, is spread before the eye. Here the pirates built themselves a small hut, and here it is said that the chiefs beautiful mistress sickened and died. After a time the retreat of the pirate, became noised abroad. Three of them were captured and taken to England, where they suffered the penalty of their crimes upon the gibbet. The fourth, Thomas Veale, escaped, and for many years thereafter made his home in a cave in the woods, which the band had previously utilized as a storehouse for their treasures. Here he practiced the trade of a shoemaker, occasionally visiting the village to obtain food.
     In 1658 an earthquake shook up the settlers in a most alarming manner. The entire face of Dungeon Rock was split off, and the cavern forever closed up. The legend has it that the pirate was entombed therein, with all his treasures, and possibly one of the village girls who had mysteriously disappeared some months previous. A realistic turn was given to the legend by the declaration of a certain Joel Dunn, that on the night of the earthquake, during the tremendous storm which raged, he got lost in the woods at the north of the town, and in his wanderings found himself, at the dead of night, at the door of the cavern. He entered, and found the pirate working by the light of a blazing pine knot. Newhall gives a lifelike picture of their interview, which waxed as stormy as the weather outside, and the pirate had just grasped his visitor by the throat, when the earthquake shock came. Just how it came about is not explained, but somehow Joel was not included in the general destruction which followed, but was found next morning in a sad state by men from the settlement who, alarmed by his non-appearance the night before, had set out to search for him. When he had recovered he told his wonderful story, which naturally occasioned much wonderment; but while the people seemed willing to believe the pirate Veale was entombed beneath Dungeon Rock, even the grave Mr. Whiting felt constrained to say that while he had no doubt that Joel Dunn passed the night on which the earthquake occured_in the woods, it was most likely that a large jug which Joel had taken into the woods had been the inspiration of his wonderful visions. The treasures thus believed to be buried in the heart of Dungeon Rock have never been exhumed, but about forty years since, Hiram Marble, under the direction of spirit mediums, began the search for it. For more than a quarter of a century father and son toiled early and late to unlock the secret caverns of the cliff, and when they were ready to abandon the work, they were again spurred on by some new delusive revelation of the spirits. And even when death had released the elder enthusiast from his delusion, the son carried on the work as the most sacred of trusts until he, too, died in the same fatal delusion.
     A visit to Dungeon Rock is full of interest, not only on account of the traditions which surround the locality, but for the natural beauties which are reveled on every side. Two miles out from the city, in the heart of the Lynn forest, few wilder or more picturesque spots can be found in New England, and one can hardly realize that he is scarcely out of sight and sound of the homes and mart of nearly fifty thousand people. The ledge on one side is a sheer precipice; the other side, which the road ascends, is less abrupt, and is covered with a grove of oak trees, growing among enormous boulders, with which, in fact, the whole region abounds. The cave which once existed in the ledge was closed by the great earthquake - to doubt the legend, with the evidences all around you, would be folly - and some avaricious vandal has blown out the remains of the entrance in the vain hope of finding out the well-kept secret of the cliff. The entrance to the excavation made by the Marbles, father and son, is barred by a grating, not specially suggestive of aught piratical, or in any way uncanny, the open sesame to which is a quarter in hand, paid to the pleasant appearing lady, sister of the younger Marble, who is now the presiding genius of the locality. The key turns with a creak in the rusty lock, and the door opens outward with a groan. The descent into the tunnel is first by a series of rickety steps, then by such foothold as one is fortunate enough to gain on the slippery rock. The entire gallery is about one hundred and fifty feet in length, descending in its course some forty feet. On account, however, of the zig-zag direction which the often-amended revelations of the spirits marked out, the rock is not actually penetrated more than one hundred feet. The formation is porphyry, as hard as adamant, and without seam or break to indicate that a cavern ever existed there or thereabouts and one is compelled to the opinion that the spirits who directed the operations must have served their earthly apprenticeship in some of the wild cat enterprises of the wild west. But scarcely has our incredulity begun to assert it when it is again challenged by the production of the relics of the pirates found, so says our entertainer, tucked in crannies of the rock. The sheath looks as though it had done hard service, and the knife has a sufftciently piratical, blood thirsty appearance to suit the most fastidious. What is left of the scissors has a more modern look, but the old anvil brings us back to the day of hard, practical things. For no matter how legend and story may people the rocks and grottoes of the neighborhood with strange personages and shapes, or fill the hollows of the clift with shining gold and precious gems and jewels; regardless wholly of the phantom guides who promise to show the path to the hidden treasures; the old anvil brings us to a realization of the fact that the path can be gained by mortals, and the treasures secured, only by hard blows with material implements. Judging from the nature of the rock, both father and son must have spent fully as much time at the anvil as in the tunnel. After all the history of the experiences of the Marbles in search of the hidden treasure of Dungeon Rock reads much like the story of most lives. Always almost within reach of the coveted blessing; convinced that one more strong effort will bring it within their grasp; disappointed and thwarted again and again, yet still buoyed with hope that success will come - how many have lived their day and gone to their rest with their dearest expectation unrealized! But there is no time for moralizing, So, thanking our guide for her attention, we return to Lynn thoroughly satisfied with our excursion, and more than ever in love with Lvnn and her surroundings.

THE TREASURE OF PINES POINT.

     There has ever been a peculiar interest attaching to tales of wonder or adventure wherein pirates and their exploits form an important element. The New World, with its many unexplored bays and safe harbors, which had so hospitably received the early settlers, was supposed by them to be also in high favor, as a safe rendezvous, with the black-haired, blood-thirsty gentry who roamed the seas, collecting tribute of all nations. Upon our headlands they set their watch, and held high revelry after their successful ventures. Their methods of making money were not so gentlemanly or refined as those of some of our modern financiers, but were quite as honest, and the banks of deposit which they selected have never failed, nor their cashiers taken vacations in the penitentiary or Canada, Had Capt. Kyd endowed all the localities with which tradition has credited him, his wealth must have becn marvellously great, and his methods a step in advance of any system of stock watering or manipulation since devised. Longfellow has invested the old stone tower of Newport with a halo of romance. Thither, says his Skeleton in Armor.

          "Three weeks we westward bore,
          And when the storm was o'er,
          Cloud-like we saw the shore
          Stretching to leeward;
          There, for my lady's bower,
          Built I the lofty tower
          Which, to this very hour,
          Stands looking seaward."

The fact that this tower was built by the first settlers and used as a windmill detracts nothing from the interest of the legend, and it is possible that many, if not most other legends which tell of mysterious visitations of pirates and secreting of treasure which they never came to reclaim have as slender a foundation as the instance named. Nevertheless, in the time when the Old Anchor Tavern, or the" Blew Ankor," as its early title was, constituted the half-way house between Boston and Salem, and around whose crackling fire the travellers and idlers used to meet to exchange yarns, there was a belief held by many that the pirate crew, whose craft so mysteriously appeared off the mouth of the Saugus River, had buried a chest of gold beneath a flat stone at the roots of a tree at Pines Point, as it was then known. On many a dark night might the solitary treasure-seeker have been seen groping among the trees with his lantern and spade, vainly searching for the hidden doubloons, but the barren point would not give up its secret.
     But one night a party was made up at the Anchor Tavern to make a final search for the coveted treasure. Newhall, in his Jewels of the Third Plantation, gives the only account of this enterprise we have seen. The night agreed upon was fair, and a bright moon shed her favoring beams upon them. David Kunkshamooshaw, a mighty wizard, and skilled with the divining rod, was one of the party. They made the journey to the point in the early evening. The action of the hazel rods in the hands of David was satisfactory in the extreme. Then he proceeded, with his incantations, to charm away the evil spirits, who, he solemnly averred, would combine to prevent them from accomplishing their object, and a circle was drawn around the spot where the hazel rods had indicated the treasure was concealed, over which the spirits could not go to do them injury. He then charged them not to utter a word, even in whispers, for if they did, their whole labor would come to naught, though by keeping within the ring they might escape bodily harm. The work then began, and in due time they came upon the flat stone which they knew covered the treasure-chest. Just as they began working around it, there came a tremendous gust of wind sweeping down over the beach with such fury that they were nearly blown from their feet and outside the circle. But they recovered from their momentary fright, and resumed operations. A stout lever was adjusted, and they were just giving a vigorous heave at the stone, when an astounding neigh, as of a horse on the very bound of the circle, sounded in their ears. The lever dropped from their grasp, but as they peered around nothing could he seen, and at the word from David, who constantly perambulated the circle, making wild gesticulations, they again plied the lever, and the ponderous stone began to move from its bed. Soon the edge was high enough so that one of them, holding down his lantern and peering eagerly into the darkness beneath, declared he saw the corner of the long-sought-for iron chest. This stimulated them to renewed effort, and in a moment more their dreams would have been fulfilled, but a most astounding circumstance occurred, which is told in the graphic language of Judge Newhall:
     "At that critical moment there came another awful gust of wind, but this time from over the water, saturating their clothing with salt spray, almost blinding them, and setting everything whirling again. Then was heard the heavy tread of a rapidly advancing horse. On, on, he dashed, in headlong fury, out into the moonlight - a gigantic courser, with flaring tail erect and long mane waving and curling in the breeze: snorting and prancing in the most threatening manner. Astride his back, without saddle or bridle, hatless, and with hair streaming in lank locks about his shoulders, sat a man of giant form and graceless mein, a hideous grin playing about his toothless mouth. On, on he rushed with unabated fury, directly toward the petrified group. But the instant he reached the charmed circle his progress was arrested. Not a houf could pass the magic bound; the desperate rearings, plungings and snortings of the horse, nor the fiery glaring and spurring of the rider, could avail. But in that alarming attitude of affairs the affrighted diggers could not continue their work, and their tools fell from their paralyzed hands. Things remained thus for some minutes; and then began a frantic race around the circle. the distance narrowing at every turn. Just on the verge the furious beast wheeled and reared and plunged, as if determined to dash across in spite of fate itself. David now for the first time showed signs of terror. With fiery eyes and hissing breath the fiery steed poised himself on his hind feet, while his rider in stentorian voice vociferated: By my blood, what do ye here? ye are well set to work filching my gold, hard earned upon the sea by dagger and by fire. But the devil will yet save his own, I wot. Aroynt ye, or bear a pirate's malediction.' The ponderous hoofs were quivering almost directly over the head of David, who had stepped forth to see there was no break in the ring, when, thrown suddenly of his guard, with trembling lips he gave utterance to a propitiatory ejaculation in these imploring words of his euphonious native tongue: - ahquonlamannean nummatcheseongask; poliquohwussinnean. In an instant, down came the hoofs, almost upon his head; and then rang the exulting laugh of the rider out over the sea; and the wild neigh of the horse was louder still. The spell was broken and there was no longer a charm-protected bound. They pranced within the ring without restraint; the stone fell back over the chest; the affrighted diggers scattered for dear life. The triumphant horse and his rider, having acomplished their purpose, sped off among the trees, the one whinnying and the other laughing till the old woods resounded with the weird clamor."
     This was enough. Treasure-seeking at the point became unpopular, and there is no record of any subsequent attempt to locate or unearth the hidden treasure. There has been a great change in the appearance of the point and the surrounding marshes since that memorable night, but it may be a pleasant diversion some fine summer day to undertake to locate the spot where the chest of gold as really lies buried now as it ever did.