San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-12-16

We walked erect. we were frequently
in chambers of considerable size. as was
easy to perceive by the touch of the hand
on the rocky corridor, then nothing TO
touch, then the narrow passageway once
more. In not one of these gigantic cham
bers did the darkness yield to our light
sufficient to show dimensions. Ii was in
deed darkness eternal. Since the sun was
created here was space where he had never
shone. Yet the air was cool, and grew
sweeter, even eXhilarating, as we proceed
ed Proceeded A thousand times had
Il resolved to return, but old Pete seemed
|. deaf. No word of entreaty penetrated his
, ears. Even the chink of silver dollars
would not rouse him to any response. He
plodded on, on. We thought of the aged
guides feeble heart beat with its 81 years
of throbbing. What if he were to drop
and join the ghostly shades that mayhap
haunted the placer
We were about agreed on forcibly halt
ing him when, in an eyes twinkle, the de-
cayed old man began to dance. As he
sprung up and down and waved his hands
a change came over him. He wore an
aspect of a boy, and light, soft, phos.
phorescent, beautiful, broke over him,
over the lordly chamber where we stood.
See yonderp' We both spoke it.
The wonderful glory shone Sfrom a per-
son.
The woman, in the easel" exclaimed my
friend
Capt. Kidd's BRIDE" replied, and we
both laughed, though why we laughed |
do not know; surely | was never more
deeply terrorized in my life Probably it |
was not a very joyous laugh. As for our
youthful-aged guide, he was now fairly on |
his knees before the apparition.
1t was the figure of a pleasing woman,
English, SHOULD say, though my friend |
says Dutch to this day. think she spoke |
English; my friend says Dutch. think |
she'was dressed in the old English garb of |
two centuries ago. My friend, better vers.
ed in these things than |, says she wore
the picturesque costume of the Neither |
lands. But then her robe was so shining
white that no eye could linger on it long.
Behind the lady stood the precious pots
of treasure troye. Spells from the Spanish
main and pelf from the Roman sea- Blood
money! A pirates WEALTH. Toevery glitter
ing piece dying sailors hands had clung
The groans of deck loads Of wounded men
seemed still to lark amid the messy piles
The rude kettles ran over with the stuff.
I1dnuluIS lay on une HOOr ABOUT the prong
like legs of each old cauldron
| said she spoke. If understood her
Alright this is what she said:
"Returnl This wealth is in trust. Know
ye the Van Houghtapootings, of great New
York;"
My friend managed to groan out that he
was acquainted with this very old family
in the persons of some of its latest repre-
sentatives.
"This wealth is their supply Once each
year, at Christmas, take them pot of
this silver and gold. That's how they live.
for they toll not, neither do they spin"
awoke. We were lying quietly mid
stream of Newburg bay, the yacht softly
,radled in p midsummers twilight.
THAT fish dinnePR' exclaimed to my
friend. ''It made me dream" 4
Exactly my case" he replied.
On comparing our dreams they were sin.
yularly alike, in fact quite identical A
dream, | confess Nevertheless there is
some such legend floating amid the purple
shadows of the Highlands on the Hudson
Emily j. Haynes in Boston Globe
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