Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 5 | Page 4

in the centre of this noted Virginia morass. It is, in
a century-old tradition, the Styx of two unhappy ghosts that await the
end of time to pass its confines and enjoy the sunshine of serener
worlds. A young woman of a family that had settled near this marsh
died of a fever caused by its malarial exhalations, and was buried near
the swamp. The young man to whom she was betrothed felt her loss so
keenly that for days he neither ate nor slept, and at last broke down in
mind and body. He recovered a measure of physical health, after a time,
but his reason was hopelessly lost.
It was his hallucination that the girl was not dead, but had been exiled
to the lonely reaches of this watery wilderness. He was heard to mutter,
"I'll find her, and when Death comes I'll hide her in the hollow of a
cypress until he passes on." Evading restraint, he plunged into the fen,
and for some days he wandered there, eating berries, sleeping on

tussocks of grass, with water-snakes crawling over him and poisonous
plants shedding their baneful dew on his flesh. He came to the lake at
last. A will-o'the-wisp played along the surface. "'Tis she!" he cried. "I
see her, standing in the light." Hastily fashioning a raft of cypress
boughs he floated it and pushed toward the centre of the pond, but the
eagerness of his efforts and the rising of a wind dismembered the frail
platform, and he fell into the black water to rise no more. But often, in
the night, is seen the wraith of a canoe, with a fire-fly lamp burning on
its prow, restlessly urged to and fro by two figures that seem to be
vainly searching for an exit from the place, and that are believed to be
those of the maiden and her lover.

THE BARGE OF DEFEAT
Rappannock River, in Virginia, used to be vexed with shadowy craft
that some of the populace affirmed to be no boats, but spirits in
disguise. One of these apparitions was held in fear by the Democracy of
Essex County, as it was believed to be a forerunner of Republican
victory. The first recorded appearance of the vessel was shortly after
the Civil War, on the night of a Democratic mass-meeting at
Tappahannock. There were music, refreshments, and jollity, and it was
in the middle of a rousing speech that a man in the crowd cried, "Look,
fellows! What is that queer concern going down the river?"
The people moved to the shore, and by the light of their torches a hulk
was seen drifting with the stream--a hulk of fantastic form unlike
anything that sails there in the daytime. As it came opposite the throng,
the torchlight showed gigantic negroes who danced on deck, showing
horrible faces to the multitude. Not a sound came from the barge, the
halloos of the spectators bringing no response, and some boatmen
ventured into the stream, only to pull back in a hurry, for the craft had
become so strangely enveloped in shadow that it seemed to melt into
air.
Next day the Democracy was defeated at the polls, chiefly by the negro
vote. In 1880 it reappeared, and, as before, the Republicans gained the
day. Just before the election of 1886, Mr. Croxton, Democratic
nominee for Congress, was haranguing the people, when the cry of
"The Black Barge!" arose. Argument and derision were alike
ineffectual with the populace. The meeting broke up in silence and

gloom, and Mr. Croxton was defeated by a majority of two thousand.

NATURAL BRIDGE
Though several natural bridges are known in this country, there is but
one that is famous the world over, and that is the one which spans Clear
Creek, Virginia--the remnant of a cave-roof, all the rest of the cavern
having collapsed. It is two hundred and fifteen feet above the water,
and is a solid mass of rock forty feet thick, one hundred feet wide, and
ninety feet in span. Thomas Jefferson owned it; George Washington
scaled its side and carved his name on the rock a foot higher than any
one else. Here, too, came the youth who wanted to cut his name above
Washington's, and who found, to his horror, when half-way up, that he
must keep on, for he had left no resting-places for his feet at safe and
reachable distances--who, therefore, climbed on and on, cutting
handhold and foothold in the limestone until he reached the top, in a
fainting state, his knife-blade worn to a stump. Here, too, in another
tunnel of the cavern, flows Lost River, that all must return to, at some
time, if they drink of it. Here, beneath the arch, is the dark stain, so like