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10 In the Hands of the Cave Dwellers. The Story of An Apache Raid- By G. A. HBXTY. Copyright 1900 by. S. S. McClure Cos. Charter VI. When all the arrangements had been made for :he departure of the raft Will Harland said to Antonio, “Do you think that it will be absolutely Impossible to approach the hacienda by daylight?” •‘lt could not be done, senor, and In deed I don’t see that, any good could jome of it, for even if we could get in unobserved there would be no one of whom we could ask questions or find out anything as to what has taken place. It is Just possible that in the confusion of the attack some of the peons employ ed In the house, the stables or our huts, may have escaped and hidden themselves. The Indians are good searchers, but Just at first they would be anxious to make * their success as complete as possible, and doubtless a large party rode up the val ley at once while the others started down It. It was important that they should ■urprise the men with the various herds before they could gather together, for •ven twenty or thirty could have gather ed they would have made a hard fight of it before they lost their scalps. There Noiselessly They Came Down Upon the Huts of tho Whii. Employe, of the Hacienda. fore, any who escape In the attack on the house may have hidden themselves from the first search, and we may pos sibly come across them at night. They would assuredly ne\er leave their hiding places until darkness had fallen." "I have some hopes of Sancho. If any one has got out safe he has. He had a good deal of experience In Indian fight ing some fifteen years ago, -when be was fan her east, and Is sure to have his wits about him. He was at our hut when I came alcng this morning. As you know, he got hurt by a young hull in the yard ten days since. He was nearly well again, but the padre said he had better keep quiet for another day or two. I fancy that he was the only man there except the peons, for tt is a busy time. The first war whoop he heard he would make for shelter, for he would know that it was no use his trying to fight the whole tribe. There is a thick patch of brush twenty or thirty yards from the huts. I expect that he would make for that straight. There is a tank in the mid dle that was used at qne time, but the water was always muddy, and the mas ter had a fresh one made handy to the huts, and since then the path to the old tank has been overgrown, and no one aver goes there. If Francisco Is alive, he is lying In that pond under the bushes that droop over it all rourrfl " "He would not be able to give us any Information as to what was done in the ho.'se?" "No. senor. But he would be of great assistance to us if we follow the red skins. He is up to all their ways, und Is a good shot with the rifle. At any rate, if we go down to the house I should like to try to find him. We have been com rades a good many years now." "Certainly, Antonio, you shall see If you can find him. He is a good f How. and as you say, would be of great assistance to us. Do you think that we could make a circuit and come down on the river again two or three miles higher up and cross there and get anywhere near the house?" ■*We might do It, senor, but as we can not get near enough to do any good. I think we should be wrong to move trom here. You may be sure that there ~re some of the redskins hiding on the oppo site bank keeping a sharp watch on us. If any of us were to ride away, one of them would carry the news at once and they would be on the lookout for us. If we all stay here till it is dark, they would sup pose that we have all gone down with the rafts, too, for the Indians would be un likely to attack them, believing that there were some fifteen or twenty men with guns on them, and in the next place, they will think that they are clear of us al together and be less cautious than they might be if they were to suppose that we were still in their neighborhood." "You are right, Antonio, and I will try and be patient.” As soon as It was dark the little party of flfteeft men started, moving as noise lessly as possible. They rode, riding two miles up the river to a point until Antonio said they were opposite a path by which they could keep along at the foot of the hills until In a line with the hacienda. “You don't think that there is ary fear of there being any red6klns on the farth er side?" "Not the slightest, senor. Long before this they will have their fires lighiei end j be gorging themselves with men, They i know how small our force is. and wiil never dream of our venturing back in o their midst.” As they rode back to the. river, they slipped off their horses, as the latter be gan to swim, holding on with one' hand, and with the other keeping their gun", pistols and ammunition above the w ter. The river at this point was some 0(0 yards wide and flowing with a quiet current. In • few minutes they were across. An'onlo soon discovered the path, and following It, they rode in single file for an hour. Then they reached a spot where there was an opening among the trees, ar.d An o l> aatd that they were abreast of the ht ctenda, which was tome four mile away; the building Itself was not visible, hut the number of fire* wnlch blazed round It was a sufficient indication of its posi tion. At various other points up and down tha valley Area also blazed, but there wte none much nearer their side of the valley than those round the havienda. “Do you mean to go with me, senor?” “Certainly. I mean to go; how had It best be done?” “I should say that we had better ride to within two miles, it would not be safe j to go w-ith so large a party nearer than I that, then we will take one of the others I with us to hold our horses, and, roLig j at a foot pace, we might get within h.Vf | a mile of the house without their hear- I ing us. There will he a good deal of I movement in the valley; the cattle whl ! be restless, having been chase! all day. I and the herds broken up, so I think that we can reckon on getting pretty close. Then we will go forward on foot. We had better make for the huts first; >ou see the Indians are thick round the house; I don’t think there is any chance ne being saved there, because 1 that would be the first point of attack. ! If we do not find Sancho, possibly we may come upon one or two of the pcor.s who would be likcjy enough to make for the same ♦ helter, if not we car. try round the stables; still I am afr’d there is no chance of hearing what has har -1 pened at the house, I mean r.hether the senorlta is killed or a prisoner. If there is no other way we must get hold of an Indian .md kill him: I will then dress up in his clothes ai J no If I can get iuto I the house. \s tin re are two trtfceji en gaged one world have more chance of j passing un3u*pited than if they all l.nev. each other At any !*:*. it must be r’sked. I know in* In dian ways pietry veil, and might pass ! mutter, lut you ■vot’d have no chance, senor ” When they dismounted Antonio sad: "We had better leave our Jackets and combrerors here, their outline would show on the darkest night that we were not i Indians.” Before leaving the raft Will had obtain i ed from one of the head men a pair of he Mexican fringed leggings, as their own white trousers would betray him at once, and now, with a dark blanket thrown oveT his shoulder, he might at a short distance be easily mistaken for an Indian. He had already left his riding boots behirifl him and had obtained a pair of moccasins from one of the peons. “I will lead the way, senor, as I know every foot of the ground, 1 ” Antonio said. # Moving along noiselessly, they came down upon the huts of the white employes of the hacienda. As there were no fires burning here they had bu slight fear nf cnco.utering any of the Indians. Each, however, carried a long knife, ready for Instant action. They had left their rifles and pistols behind them, for if it was necessary to fight the combat must be a silent one. They crossed to the clump of bushes of which Amonio had spoken. "You stop outside, senor; it is of no use two of us making our way in to the tangle." As he parted the bushes before entering a slight sound was heard. "Good; there Is someone here,” he mut- "She Told Me She Was Going to Ride I'p the Valley.” tered, and then, making his way a few paces forward, he uttered Sancho's name. There was no reply, and he repeated It In a louder tone. At once there was a low reply: "Here am I. Is It you, Tonlo?" "Y'es; I have come to look for you. I thought you would have made a bee line here as soon as you heard the redskins." "You were right, and there are two peons here. We were Just going to start to make our way down to the river. Are you alone?” , "I have the young senor with me.” "That is good. I was afraid mat we had all been wiped out.” In a couple of minutes the four men emerged from the bushes. "I am glad to see that you arc safe, Sancho," Will said warmly. “Now, can you tell me what has happened?" ' I know nothing whatever, senor. I was eating my breakfast when I heard a sudden yell, and knew that It was the Apache war whoop, and that there must be a big force of them, and that there was no fighting to be done, so I caught up my rifle and pistols and made for the bush. These two peons who were outside followed me. I told them to hide as best they could and I went on Into the pool, found a good place under some thick bushes, hid my powder horn and THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JUNE 17, 1900. weapofls handy for use close by. lay down with my head out of water listening. Already they were down at the huts. and I heard the cries of the peor.s they caught there. Luckily I was the only Mexican above. A few shots were fired up at the ha cienda. and I thought I heard screams, but what with* the yells o? the Indians I could no: be sure. Presently it all died away. I don't fancy they suspected that any ore had got away, the attack being so sudden; at any rate they mode no search here. I made up my mind to lie down till most of them would be asleep and then to make for :he river, and I told the peons that we must each shift for ourselves, as we had more chances of get ting away singly than if together. —l ♦his was spoken in a low voice. The grir thing that I wanted to =k you is. do you know whether the senor ita was killed, or whether they have kept her to carry ofT. but, of course, you don t know.” “They would rot kill her.” the man said confidently, “but so far as I know, they have not even caught her. I was at *e p:ables maybe naif on hour before the ser.orita came down end had her horse saddled. She had a basket with her. and told me she was going to ride up the val ley to that wigwam that remained when the Indians went away, carrying ae much meat as their ponies could carry. There were an old Indian and his wife left there —she had got a fever or something, and was too ill to travel, and she was going to take a basket of food and som* medicine that the padre had made up for the old man. I have been thinking of her all day. I should say she was coming back when the redskins rode up the valley after the cattle. She could hardly have helped seeing them, and I wondered whether she would take to the trees and have ridden on this way until after they had passed, or whether she had turned and ridden on. If she did the first she is pretty sure to have been captured when she got down near home; if she went the other way she gave them a mighty long chase, for there is not a horse on the estate as fast as hers, and as for the Indian ponies, she could leave them behind as if they were standing still.” “Thank God, there is a hope, then.” Will exclaimed. “Now we must move further off and chat it over.” When they had gone a quarter cf a mile from the house they stopped. An tonio tcld the two peens that the rafts had started fully two hours before. The current is only about a mile and a half an hour, and if you cross the river and keep on you ought to catch them up be fore morning and can then swim off to them. Don’t k* ep this side of the river; there are redskins cn the bank, hut if you keep this side of the valley, among the trees, down to the river, you will meet none cf them. We have come that way.” The peons at once started. “Now, senor. wl 1 you go on to where the horses are? Sancho and I will go back to the house, he understands the Apache language. We will crawl up near "It Is Rough, But It Will Fa s in the Darkness." the fires and I should think that we are pretty certain to hear if they have caught the senorita or not. However, we may be some time, so do not be anxious and don't move if you hear a sudden row. for we might miss you in the dark. We shall make straight to this tree, and for a hit my horse must carry doub.e; you had better hand your jacket to Senor Har land, Sancho, and take his blanket." "How far are the horses?" "There are thr. e of them about CO? yaids further on.” "I will go there first then," the man said. "This Is a terrible business, senor." "Terrible, indeed I am afraid there is no doubt that Donna Saras’.a has lost her life." "I reckon.” the man said, “that ex cept ourselves and any you may have with you there ain't a dozen alive in the valley; it is a clean wipe cut. I never knew a worse surprise. How about the par y by the river?" Antonio related what had taken place there. "Well, that is something saved,” he said, "and with sixteen of us all well armed we can manage to make a decent tight of It. We must get another horse, tut ;hat won't be very difficult, most of the others ate sure to have their las sos with them, and there are a score of horses rut ning 1 o e on the plains, and they cannot have ro. ed them all in yet." When they reached the horses he wet t on; "You had better stop here, Toni; you are not accustomed ns I am to them In juns, and, as you don’t know mu -h of thetr lingo you would not undora and much of their talk. 1 would much rather go alone." "All right, old man," the other said. "Now for my toilet," Sancho went on, and going up to one of the horses h pricked it with his knife. "Steady, boy, steady.” he said as the horse plunged. "It Is for your good os well as mine, for you would not find life In an Indian village as pleasant as the life you have been used to." Then he dipped his fingers in the blood, drew a broad line across his forehead and round his eyes, placed a patch on his cheeks, thcnjie cut off two handfuls of long hair from the animal s tail, tied these together with string and fastened them In his hair, so that ihe horsehair fell down onto his shoulder on eacli side and partially hid his face. "It is rough,” he said, "but It will pas? in the darkness. It is lucky you have got a ’pache blanket; that will help me won derfully." "Y'es, I bought it from the Indians when they traded here a few weeks since. The man I got it of said that he had trad and a good pony for it when he was hunting in the spring on the other side of tha river.” "X will take your rifle, Tonio,"* S incno said. "I must either have that or a bow and arrow. Now, good-by." "Without another word he turned aid strolled away toward the hacienda It was nearly two hours before he relum ed. "The senorita has got away so far," he said. "The redskins came across her hal - way up the valley; she turned and rode straight up, a dozen well-mounted men were sent after her. I heaid that they sent so many because they were afraid that they might fall in with par ty of the Oenlgueh Indians, who would certainly attack them at once." "Thank God!" Will exclaimed fervent ly. "There is a chance for saving her af ter all, lor 11 they overtake her, and they LIEBIG Company's Extract or Bra? U Indispensable in the culinary department ot eer> household. Every Jar % g-ec in bloei won’t do that for 6ome time, we can at tack them as they oome back again.” “Now let us Join the others at cnce, and make up the valley." During the time Sancho had been away, he had been questioning Antonio as to the extent of the valley. “It goes a long way into the heart of the mountains, senor, but none cf us know it beyond what we have learned from the Indians, for we were strictly forbidden to go beyond the boundary for fear of our disturbing the game in the Indian country. They say that it runs three hours fast riding beyond our bounds. After that i: becomes a mere ravine, but it can be followed up to the top of the hill, and from there across a wild coun try, until at last the track comes down on a ford on the Colorado. From there there is a track leading west at the foot of the San Francisco mountain, and comes down on the Little Colorado, close to the Moquia country*.” “How* far would that be from here?” Will asked. “I have never been acrces there, senor, and I doubt whether any white man has, not on that line. I should say that from what the Indians say it must be some fifty miles from the end of our part of the valley to the ford of the Colorado, and from there to the Little Colorado it must be 150 miles in a straight line, perhaps 200 by* the way the track goes—that is to say. If there is a track that any one can follow. These tracks mostly run pretty straight, so that I should say that it would be about as far to the Moquis country as it would be to San Diego from here; however, we may be sure that we are not going to make such a journey as that; the Apaches are no r likely to fol low her further than the end of thvs valley, or at most to the Colorado ford.” As they rode along Will learned from Sancho how he had obtained the news. “There was no difficulty about that.” the other said, carelessly. “I waited till the fires were a bit low, and then saun tered about near those of a party of the Tejunas, and heard them talking about it. I learned that they had. a6 they be lieved. wiped out all our people except those who crossed the river on rafts, and the senorlta, though they allowed that a few of the men with the herds might have got away, end they were going to search the valley thoroughly to-morrow. Not a soul in the hacienda escaped. The red sk;ns were exultant over the amount of booty they had taken, and were glad that the cattle ■were amply sufficient for both tribes, so that there would be no cause for dispute os to the division, and were specially pleased with the stores of flour and goods of all kinds in the magazines.” When they joined the main body, San cho was heartily welcomed by his com rades. who were delighted to hear that there was at least a chance of saving the senorita, of whom all hands on the estate were fond. It was arranged at once that Sancho should ride by turns behind the others, and then they started at n gallop up the valley, keeping close within the edge of the trees that covered the hillside. To be continued. A Pelican Panic. Or the Appalling Vpplshne.* ot Billy. By ANNE H. WOODRUFF. A family of pelicans lived on the mar gin of a lovely lake. Avery large family it was. Indeed—fathers, mothers and chil dren; uncles, aunts and cousins innumer able. They had delightful times, for it was always warm weather there, and best of all. there was always plenty to eat. AH they had to do when they were hungry was to skim along the surface of the water, and when an unlucky fish showed himself pounce down upon him and gob ble him up. Sometimes a whole shoal of fish would appear, and then it was a won derful and beautiful sight to see that great family of pelicans sweep suddenly down upon their prey In a most startling man ner. There were trees growing on the banka of the lake which cast delightful shad ows upon the water, some of the long, drooping branches of the willows reaching clear down into the lake. They found the shade very refreshing after a flight in the hot sunsnine and the exertion of catch ing their lunch. One fine day, while they were taking their rest in the shade beneath the wil lows, a pair of young pelicans were en gaged in edose and absorbing conversation. They were a handsome couple, of large size," white, slightly tinged with pink, or flesh color. They had large', broad and extremely long bills, the extreme tip of the upper one of a bright red color, and curving like a hook over the under one. "My dear,” the femaie pelican was say ing to her mate, "the time has come when I shall need to look for a suitable spot for a nest. I must have your help in se lecting It.” "Certainly, my love,” was the answer. "I shall be happy to render you all the assistance in my power. What was your Idea?” “I am. as you are aware, of a very re tiring disposition," she said, "and the pub licity of this shore, where all our friends love to congregate, is extremely distaste ful to me. lam really puzzled to know what to do." "Really." said he, "I am quite at a loss how to advise you. Ah, yes! I have It!" “Speak, my love, and relieve my anxie ty." she implored. "What do you think of that wood yonder'”’ he asked, indicating by a grace ful motion of his right wing a small isl and lying at no great distance from the shore. "Just the thing!" she exclaimed Joy fully “How clever of you! My dear, would you be so kind as to go and in vestigate, and bring me word as to its suitability and comfort for a nest. I do not feel quite equal to the exertion my self to-day.” “With pleasure, love.” he replied, swim ming off across the water, while his fond spouse stood on the bank watching his graceful movements with proud and ad miring eyes. In a short time he returned and assured her that It was impossible to find a more desirable place, so the next day she made there her nest of soft rushes and grass, on the ground near the water. In due time three beautiful white eggs appeared in the nest, upon which she sat day and night until they were hatched. It must be acknowledged that her spouse was most attentive and devoted, bring ing her the choicest titbits in the way of fish that it was possible for him to And. How the proud parents rejoiced in their little ones! They thought of nothing else but to provide for their wants, bringing them the flsh they caught In the large pouches beneath the bill, with which all pelicans are provided for that purpose. The little ones grew and thrived, and the mother said they would soon be able to leave the nest, when she would teach them to earn their own living. She warned them not to leave the nest without her permission, hinting at vague and fearful dangers that were without that safe re treat. One little pelican was of a bold and de fiant disposition, and in the absence of his mother announced hla Intention ot foraging- for himself. Like man y young people, he had a great Idea of his own abilities wanted to see the world and er.joy himself. When his more obedient and timid brothers remonstrated with him. he taunted them with being tied to their mother s apron strings—or some thing to that effect—and went eft as fast as his little legs could carry him. When the mother pelican came home there was a dreadful time, as you may Imagine. When she found out the facts of the case she flew here and there, ut tering hoarse cries of distress. She hur ried all around the little island, but In vain, he was not to be seen. Then, charg ing the others to remain where they were, she hastened to the old trysting place, where she felt sure of finding her mate enjoying a quiet visit with his cronies. As it happened he was alone, stretched comfortably upon the green swat taking in the peaceful beauty of the scene. Drowsy as he was, the distracted ap pearance of his mate, as she struggled breathlessly up the bank, caused him to open his eyes wide in affright. “What is it, my dear? What is it? What has happened? he asked in breath less suspense, waiting impatiently for her to get her breath. "Oh, my dear! Our darling, our pre cious little Billy!” she gasped. • Ycu alarm me,” he cried. "What is wrong with Billy?” and his anxious face confirmed her suspicion that Billy was his favorite. "He is gone!” she exclaimed in a de srairing whisper, "and I can not find him.” When she had told him all ha said soothingly: "Keep up your courage, my dear, and it will all bs well. We will find him, I am sure," and led her back to the nest, where he Inquired more carefully info the matter. The young pelicans gave him a true account of their brother’s doings, withholding none of his unfilial speeches, "Ungrateful young wretch,” his father said, and would have added more in -he same strain had not his mate checked him with an observation, which, translat ed into English, means: "Boys will be boys.” I am not acquainted with the pelican rendering of the proverb. She also darkly hinted that the time was not so far dis tant in the past when he himself had been guilty of as grave if not worse misde meanors, whereupon he looked very glum indeed, and the young pelicans stared as if they could not believe their ears. It was getting along toward night and no time was to be losf. They were Just about starting upon a tour of discovery when a familiar, shrill little cry w.ib heard near at hand. "Oh, my darling: my darling! There he is!" cried the overjoyed mother. Sure enough. Biily, a very weary little pelican, waddled haltingly toward them, glad enough to hide himself under the mother wings. "Come, sir, give an account of yourself. Where have you been?” sternly queried the father. "Over there,” answered Billy, rather vaguely. “Why didn't you answer when I called?" asked the mother. "Guess I was asleep,” answered Billy. “It was so far I got tired. I'm thed yet." “Go to bed this minute, sir,” said the father pelican in a tone which made them all tremble. And without your supper, sir," he added. "I'm not hungry," said Billy. “I found a lovely green frog in the waterhole. It was delicious." "A frog!" screamed his mother In hor ror. "You bad child! You know I never allow you to eat anything but fish. And I'm sure, Billy,” she added, tearfully, ‘‘you have always had plenty to eat. I’ve never neglected my children. No one can accuse me of that. We pelicans are said to be the most devoted of parents. It has even been said that we feed our children with the blood from our own breasts. Times have never been so hard with us as to make that necessary, but I would do a great deal for my children and so would your father. Promise never to be naughty again, my son.” Billy readily promised, for he hated sermons, and he was very sleepy, and peace reigned once more In the bosom cf that pelican family. PADDED SENATE PAYROLLS. Senatorial Courtesy YVbich Permits of Political Jobbery. From the New York Post. Washington, June B.—House of Repre sentatives courtesy has not become so far famed as senatorial courtesy, and yet it not the less exists, as has been shown by the commotion which followed a remark of Representative Weeks, Republican, Michigan, a few days ago. It Is felt that he violated a tradition of the House in making art Inquiry on the floor as to the whereabouts of one of its employes. In a moment of evident 111-temper he de manded, "What has become of our capitol locksmith?” It seems that and Mr. Jones, who appears on the payroll as a locksmith at a salary of $1,500 a year, is In Michigan campaigning for “Little Sam" Smith of that state, one of the three Representa tives Smith of that state, and that Mr. Weeks knew it, and for some reason de sired to give his colleague a slight tpunch. But Mr. Weeks' objection to a $1,500 locksmith being absent from Washington campaigning is like an attempt to bale out the ocean with a dipper. The capitol rolls, partlcolaily In the Senate, are load ed with names of persons who perform no duties whatever, or no duties at all com mensurate with their salaries, but who are carried on the rolls as a favor. It Is said that the Senate rolls contain a hundred such names, or to be more accurate, that one hundred persons are thus paid by the Senate, although the names of many of them appear on no rolls whatever. The contingent fund is to a considerable ex tent used to furnish salaries for dummies. The coal fund is said to be assisting in the support of some gentlemen of high social pretentions in this city. Sundry students in college in distant parts of the country get their pin money from congressional payrolls. If these lists were ever pub lished. there might be a wholesome over hauling. but on the one day in two years when federal employes are rounded up for the Blue Book there Is a widespread suspension of services at the capitol. These so-called "gtafters" are dropped a few weeks before, and re-employed a few weeks after the round-up. The reason these things are never brought to light except in a spasmodic way Is because the ramifications of the abuse are so extensive. Senator X., for example, dares not criti cise Senator Y., whose doings in a partic ular instance may be worse than his own, because his own In some other case are not absolutely above reproach. 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The Old Taylor Home—When It Was Built and the Year Noises Heard In It—The D-uddtngton Manor, Near the Navy Yard—The Holt Mansion and Its "Hants"—Other Old Houses That Have Histories and Strange Occupants. Washington, June IS.—Probably r.o city in the country can show so many houses wherein ghosts are said to wander as the national capital—and certainly no other can furnish so many people to credit the stories concerning them—for our colored population, 90,000 strong, to a man, woman and child, are firm believers In* "hants.” Among a score or more of historic man sions, each crammed full of spooks, if tales are true, one of the most celebrated In ghostly lore is the old Tayloe home, or “Octagon House,” as it is commonly called. It is not only the most unique building in Washington, architecturally, but was once among the finest and proud est. It stands in what is now considered a disreputable section of the city, termed "south of the avenue,” but in the early part of the century the nabobs of the your.g capital considered it unsurpassed. In front is a queer circular porch, jutting out like the tower of a mediaeval castle; the many-paned casements are broken, and climbing vines running riot outside, peep into the dark rooms long tenanted by not.iing earthly but rats and spiders. On entering the door,, the vis itor is immediately impressed with the antiquity of the place, Its unmistakable air of departed grandeur, as well as V£ith the sense of sadness that seems to hover over the faded chambers and desolate halls. Such a strangely constructed house is hardly to be found anywhere else. Fir-t is a perfectly round marble paved recep tion hall, on each side of which stand two ancient stoves with their rusty pipes running up through the side of the wall. Back of this circular apartment Is anoth er long, wide hail, used for receptions when tne bills and beaux or early days held court here. On the left hand side of this is a spacious ball-room which must have been of unsual magnificence, judging from its lofty ceiling, deep windows and beautifully carved mantle piece, which of course was imported from abroad. It is said that Senator Lodge and several other well-known men have tried to buy this old mantle and two or three others in the house, offering as high as SSOO apiece for them; but the heirs decline to sell them. • * * * * * 9 * a On the second and third floors are a great many chambers, mostly small and oddly shaped, with innumerable tit le closets and chubby-holes scattered all about In unexpected places. In the rear is a large yard, overgrown with grass and weeds, and in one corner the ruins of what was once the slave quarters. It Is in this yard that the ghosts render them selves most obnoxious—perhaps because more conspicuous there than in the dim, shut-up rooms. Tales are rife in the neighborhood of the nightly sound < f blows and shrieks, coming from a small brick outhouse which is supposed to have been the place of slave punishment with its whipping post in the center. The mansion was built in 1793, by Col. John Tayloe, a rich planter from Vir ginia, who owned hundreds of slaves and dozens of fine estates in the Old Domin ion. Gen. George Washington and Tay loe were chums, and the story goes that when the latter wished to establish a cry residence, Washington persuaded him to build In the new capital. The bricks were brought from England, .and our first President assisted his friend Tayloe In deciding upon plans for the dwelling. The family moved into It In 1807. and s'rilght way became the leaders of Washing'on society. With wealth beyond computing, and the lavish hospitality of "Old Yir ginny,” balls and dinners and receptions to the heads of the nation and foremost statesmen of the day were of constant occurrence. In 1814, when the White House in which Madison was living, was burnt by the British forces, Col. Tayloe hastily moved his family out of his splendid home and offered it to the President. Madison gratefully accepted and remained on the place about a year. His office was the round room on the second floor. Just above the circular reception hall, and here it was that the famous treaty of Ghent was signed. Here "Dolly” Madison held her gayest court, and the time eaten rooms were crowded with short waisted dames In scanty silkrn robes and slippers laced around the ankles, and men , in powdered hair, knee-breeches and sil ver buckles. There were candles to light the gallants to bed and scores of slaves to obey the llgh'est nod; but the houses were few in Washington at that early day, and the streets were beaten tracks along a muddy country road. When the Tayloe family came back Inro their home, the "hanting” began. One day h servant heard the front door bell rln.', and hastened to open it—but nobody was there. It rang and rang and rang. Col. Tayloe himself went to open it. and so did the rest of the family, singly and in groups. They lay in wait to surprise the ringer, and sprang out suddenly. But all to no purpose; the bell continued to ring, though no mortal hand was seen. Then all the hells in the house set up, Jangling night nnd day together, and nothing could stop them. Finally the family could en dure It no longer and retired to one of the YHrginla farms, never to return. The bell-ringing incident is true and was re corded in the papers of the time; but what rang them remains a mystery. Many times since some venturesome person has tried to live in the fine old house, but each has been quickly driven away by mysterious noises. Among num erous traditions concerning the ghosts, one is to the effect that a lovely young daughter of the Tayloes was forced to marry an elderly man against her wish, while her heart was In possession of a gallant young lover, The husband treated her most cruelly and she died at the nge of' 23. Here Is the slender figure, all In white, which the neighbors swear they frequently see at the windows. She throws up the sash at a certain hour, as if bent on climbing out, and no nails or bolts can keep those windows closed. It Is also told that on one of the upper rooms a gambling party was once con vened, when one was killed by his drunken comrades In a fight over the cards; and now every morning In the woe gma hours between 1 and 3. groans and curses are heard, followed by the conventional “dull thud" of the murdered man. Probably a hundred witnesses might be found willing to testify In any court of lew that they have peeped through the windows of the old Taylor house, (ot respectful distance), when the spooks were holding high carnival within, and have seen the shades of Washington, Adams Jay, Marshall, the Madisons and others’ with their Indies, In the great hall, danc ing the stately measure of the minuet • • • • • • . Another equally famous mansion, of aristocratic occupants, both In and out of the flesh. Is Duddlngton Manor, out near the navy yard, surrounded by a high brick wall ond shaded by old forest tro* The grounds are extensive and were one. beautifully kept. There is a curious spring in them with a flow of water al most sufficient to turn a mill. The man sion reminds one of old baronial estates in England, being double, with spacious hall, lofty pillars and polished floors. At one time it was splendidly furnished, ar.J its owner, Daniel Carrol, dignified and stately, entertained the distinguished cit izens of Washington. But the glory of the house has long since departed; the Carrol family are all dead except two elderly ladies; and the home, after varl. ous vissitudes. as a boarding house, has been bought by the government for a hospital. It is related that ghosts drove the boarders away every time, sneaking through key holes, laughing aloud in cor ners, laying cold hands on Sleeping fore heads, an 1 doing other unmannerly thing* unworthy of respectable spooks. At the corner of Lafayette Place and H street is the house which Commodor De catur built, which was occupied by him at the time of his death, and which, it is said, he yet frequents. Probably you remember the tragic circumstances sur rounding his violent end—how he had aid ed in the courtmartlaling of Commodore Barron, for which the latter challenged him to fight a duel, in 1820. Decatur fell mortally wounded, and was brought home, dying as his friends were carrying him up the winding stairs. Afterwards the house was occupied by Judah P. Benja min, who furnished it in the most luxu rious manner, and brought there his young French wife. But nothing pleased her, and she pined like a bird In a cage, until her husband carrP-d her back to ‘‘gay Paree,” and himself went to live else where. Their domestic tragedy ha® ele ments sadder than death; which cannot be put Into n newspaper paragraph. It is said that every family which has slrr occupied the house, has “come to grief." in one way or another, on account of the melancholy wraith of Commodore Deca tur. • *****•• In the immediate neighborhood, on the opposite File of Fayette Square, is the Seward House, where Secretary Seward was living when he received the wounds on that fatal night, when men he’.d their breath wi:h fear and neighbor dared not trust neighbor. The mansion was for merly a clubhouse, and has been “un lucky” ever -inee Philip Barton Key cams out of it and had not gone twenty ♦steps when ho was shot to death by Gen. Sickle* for alleged love-making to the latter's wife. Near the Metropolitan Church is a hand some house zhos 1 ghosts amuse them selves every evening, just before gas lighting time, by rattling paper in a cer tain room. For many years this phenom. enon has been k own, and a hundred times people have been invited to hear and bear witness to the truth. It begins with a gentle swaying sound, like the folding of a newspaper, and then grows lounder, un til it sounds like the rattling of pro grammes in a crowded hall. If no light Is furnished It will continue all night, but ceases the instant the gas Is turned on. The tradition Is that many years ago. the wife of a we".-r-memb-red literary man died very must ri usly In that room. But the poor lady reveals no secrets of her taking off. and why she keeps It up is as great a mystery as her death. • * * * * * • • • The fine o!d licit mansion on New Jer sey avenue, southeast, which was lately in litigation among the heirs of the late Judge He It. is another of Washington’s haunted ’he,uses unter.anted for years. Every nifcht. at precisely 11 o'clock, an unse n carriage dashes up to the door, unseen horses seem to be pulled back upon tneir haun hes;th, dojr-bell is so v.nlfntly jerked that i ■ pealing is heard all over the qui t r.elghborho-vl; sounds of slam ming co c disturb the night, and then a man’s excited voice, mingled with wild shrieks and prayers for mercy; after w lrds dull l lows and a heavy fall, and all is still until precisely 11 p. m. the next night. In an other house In :i poorer quarter groans and curses moire every night hideous, so that, not only are tenants kept out of it. but from every h ose in the close vl lni 'y. So grtat is the disturbance sometimes that the police have teen summ ned to top tor. fight t in; app ars to be going on But th clubs o "the finest" have no can rcl over t ose ur.iuly corqbatants. During the war i: ws a t nement house of uk v ry re utatlen, k pt. by a dread ful creature who was known as One-eyed Sri. T e ro i, c raid* and her abode one night, and btsd o other findings, came a rose s V ral bodies of murde-ed sal on rs buFed In the cellar. Meanwhile Sal realiz'd that then was "the time for dls a pea- ing" and slippi and cut into the night. Diiigem search was made for her. far and wide, hut no clu as to her where abours was ever obtained. The negroes incl ne to the on nion that she simply m unt and her broom-stick ar.d sailed away, as any hoodoo witch has a habit of do ing. *•••*••• Greatest ,of all the haunted houses in this or any other country is the old .capi tal prison, th - scene of unnumbi red trac ed i r- wher the Confederate Cnpt. Wirz. o Andersontil e fame was ha>'g and, and Mrs. Su r.itt aw: itcl her dreadful death in t rror; wher Bell: Bryd, the female s; y, who ded he other dty, was for a tme kept out cf misehi f Before becom -1 g a mi itary r s n It s -rt ed for a tlma as the capitol of the United States, being ab ut the only iub ic bll j n tt a es caped th Biit s i torches; and previous to 1814 ii was used as offices for the gen er 1 pcstofflce and pa'nt office. Afte- the Civ I War 1; was and VO and into two private residence me of which become a swell I 00.' 1 In It John C. Calhoun breath and 1 is last. Copt. Wbz was the last pc son In and l-i ts ■ld ’ a k a and every colored person on Capitol Hill will te l y u t .it :t is nette n t to take any cl arc s of meeting his "ham” by wan der ng ab lit. 'he. premises on dark nights. They assert t> at he has been often seen, with protruding tongue, h ack'ned coun te. once and rope around his neck, trying to seal’ that backyard fence! If these accent heu es were the only haunt'd ones in the nations' capital! If the midnight cries of the disembodied were th only sounds of sorrow! Under the ros s if many a banquet hall is coll ed ihe deadly snake; over many an hon or and head hangs the fabled sword as by a hair; and In many an aristocrailc closet lu ks the family skeleton whose bone* are never rattkd abroad. LIPPMAN BROS., Proprietors, Druggist*, Uppman’s Block, SAVANNAH, 6A.