That last article, I found in an ancient email so the original formatting is gone. The email address for the author probably doesn't work but I left it there anyway.
Growing up in Kingsbury we heard tales of tunnels leading back and forth between two or three houses. One of those was the one that Grandpa Bentley owned and lived in. In those days of our childhood, everyone one older was called Grandpa or Grandma but of course they were no relation to us at all.
There was a tale going around and it may have been true or not, that a farmer had lost a cow in tunnel that opened up after heavy rains when it partially collapsed. It was said there were markings on the wall of it resembling pictures and piles of moldy rags in a corner.
I was very interested in history and in tales so naturally I soaked all these tales up and never forgot them. While most of my love of history surrounds World War Two and even sometimes World War One, our Mother delighted in reading tales of the Civil War so these stories of tunnels and the "chair" kept her going for a long time.