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           Privatelettersanddiariesoftheperiodreveal,too,amultitudeofotherreasonswhyJosephCurwenwasmarvelledat,feared,andfinallyshunnedlikeaplague.Hispassionforgraveyards,inwhichhewasglimpsedatallhours,andunderallconditions,wasnotorious;thoughnoonehadwitnessedanydeedonhispartwhichcouldactuallybetermedghoulish.OnthePawtuxetRoadhehadafarm,atwhichhegenerallylivedduringthesummer,andtowhichhewouldfrequentlybeseenridingatvariousoddtimesofthedayornight.Herehisonlyvisibleservants,farmers,andcaretakerswereasullenpairofagedNarragansettIndians;thehusbanddumbandcuriouslyscarred,andthewifeofaveryrepulsivecastofcountenance,probablyduetoamixtureofnegroblood.Inthelead-toofthishousewasthelaboratorywheremostofthechemicalexperimentswereconducted.Curiousportersandteamerswhodeliveredbottles,bags,orboxesatthesmallreaddoorwouldexchangeaccountsofthefantasticflasks,crucibles,alembics,andfurnacestheysawinthelowshelvedroom;andprophesiedinwhispersthattheclose-mouthed"chymist"—bywhichtheymeantalchemist—wouldnotbelonginfindingthePhilosopher’sStone.Thenearestneighborstothisfarm—theFenners,aquarterofamileaway—hadstillqueererthingstotellofcertainsoundswhichtheyinsistedcamefromtheCurwenplaceinthenight.