The next movement of consequence was years afterward, when the city of Lynn was said to have footed the bills for any quantity of ammunition, to be used for the purpose of making a grand attack upon the obstinate rock, and forcing it to give up its trust. It proved a failure, and the city never paid the bills either; but, many a quiet night after that, sober, respectable men laughed at each other about their fast-day blow. Their object was to fill the principal crevices with powder, and have them explode in such a manner as would shatter the rock into a countless number of pieces, and thus lay open the inside of it, and the cave, if there were any there. Some went away satisfied that all had been done that could be, and there was no treasure there; others, that the original cave and its contents remained undisturbed but all agreed that they had ventured their share upon the sea of speculation, and should not try again right away. Soon after this, mesmeric clairvoyance became one of the reigning topics of the day, and almost immediately the interest of Dungeon Rock was again agitated. This time, one of the world-renowned singing brothers, Jesse Hutchinson, was the chief actor, directed by a mesmerized lady, who steadily affirmed the truth of the disconnected history that had been handed down to them, and added her declarations to those who had the firmest faith in the old saying of wealth in Dungeon Cave. The operations flagged not for days and weeks; and, when at last Jesse gave it up, not as a delusion, but as a task too hard for him, others kept on, and made the hole still deeper and broader. But they too failed, and, for a long time, the hill was undisturbed save by occasional picnic parties, or Sunday groups of young people, who went there to enjoy themselves. Now our scene changes from the quiet, unfrequented, hilly woodland, to the limitless plains of the great West, where the waters of America’s broadest and deepest lake ceaselessly lave its shores. It is the hour of a boat landing, and any number of men, women, and children, could be seen hurrying to the wharf, with the first whole dish they could reach, be it wash-bowl, ewer, or skillet, teapot, pan, or pail; and one general cry of “whiskey, whiskey,” was heard throughout the ranks. In a small building, that served for kitchen, parlor, and bedroom, to quadruped and biped, two men, apparently near the same age, and both past the years of youth, sat, or rather reclined, talking busily with each other. “Rum is a great curse, Marble.” “Granted.” “And, if a great deal ruins a man, a little, be it ever so little, injures him.”