Fears of Satanic worshippers swirl around five Celtic-inspired megaliths.

A few times a day, you can see an animatronic cowboy shoot-out.

The collection is housed in an exquisite mansion that makes you feel like you've been transported to an Italian villa.

A museum packed with instruments, lyrics, and other mementos of the American folk icon.

This spectacular public market has got meat, fish, vegetables, baked goods, and enough kielbasa for a lifetime.

The largest public collection of roses in the United States.

There are no bodies inside these stone coffins. And there never were.

An oil baron's wild paradise and the winner of an ill-fated air race.

This former Texas landfill is flush with 300 million-year-old fossils, all fit for the taking.

This library is a reader's paradise and a plant lover's dream.

Tracks near this Texas nature site were once thought to support the Creationist belief that man and dino coexisted.

This parking garage was the site of what was - at the time - the largest cash robbery in history.

Stolen goods adorn the organ at Old North Church.

This headstone marks the grave of an 11-year-old boy killed during clashes in the streets over the boycotting of British goods.

Dedicated to one of the darkest moments in Irish history, this memorial has faced its fair share of backlash.

Each August, one of the largest religious (and food) celebrations in the country is held in Boston.

This funeral home had the honor, if that is the correct word, of hosting the funeral of the famous Sacco and Vanzetti.

A plaque memorializes the Boston location of one of the largest nightclub fires in history.

This popular Boston haunt is reminiscent of a time gone by, when slow cafes and sweet-smelling smoke wafting from patios was the norm.

One of the indelible moments of the American Revolution took place at this location.

This historic patch of real estate offers a glimpse of colonial Boston.

An easy-to-miss garden in Boston's North End honors the mother of JFK and others who lost children in WWII.

The first bell ever cast in Boston was cast by Paul Revere...and sounded terrible.

This ambitious father and son team reigned supreme over the North End, and witches, for many years.