McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1884-06-26
NO FLOWERS ON HIS GRAVE.
Tho Unpleasant Grave In Brazil From
Which a Veteran story-Teller
Escaped.


81 turned out with my post and
helped decorate the graves of our brave
boys, but can't say that 1 put much
heart in the business" said grizzled
old veteran last night in an Eighth
street saloon, as he was about to absorb
his sixth glass of beer. 81 know have
surprised you," he continued, noticing
the look of inquiry on the faces of the
5ystanders, shut l never see flowers or
hea~ people talk of decoration that do
not feel quite knocked out"
''It was just this way" he continued,
as he had his glass refilled and held it
up between the light and his eyes, "be-
fore the war was one of party of
adventures VIII, hearing of the i'm
mense gold deposits in Brazil, penetra-
ted the heart of that country. From
the outstart we had pretty tough time
of it, and, to cap the climax, when we
were dead failure in our search, and
were longing for home again, we were
captured by band of meddling saw
ages. They treated us well, but closely
guarded us so as to prevent escape.
After a period of about six months
every man but myself escaped and
made for the settlements. tried, but
was recaptured. must confess felt
blue and down in the mouth, but bore
1t and determined to wait patiently for
another chance to get away.
s'Another six months passed, but still
no opportunity offered itself, when a
bright idea struck me. I persistently
refused food from day to day, but Sc
-cretly took just enough to keep gain
ing, so that after q while looked
something like side-show skeleton.
One morning when the buck who did
the feeding business came to my tent
I was stretched out stiff, apparently
dead. A big hubbub was raised and
the Indians all thronged in to look at
me, though they kept at a respectful
distance and refrained from touching
me. And if you'd believe it, they let
me lay there, too, until next morning,
when they came in long procession
and placed me on sort of litter and
carried me to the outskirts of the town.
A large grave had been dug and the
cold perspiration began to ooze from
me at the prospect of being buried
alive.
ssI was tenderly laidsin the hole and
there was pause. Then several OBJ
jects struck me, and, peeping through
the crack af my eyelids, was sur
prised to find that they were flowers of
the fragrant, luxurious kind peculiar to
the country. The flowers continued
to come until a perfect shower fell.
The sensation was pleasant to the OIL
factory nerves at first, but after was
completely covered up it got sort of
pdisagreeable, inasmuch as got sniff
of the South American Jim Crow plant,
the simple odor of which is sufficient to
kill one. When the grave was COM
pletely filled 1 was in hopes that the
gang would leave the place and allow
me to escape. But no such luck. Two
bucks were stationed there as sort of
guard of honor. At night these were
relieved, and so the blamed watch over
me was kept up for a whole week.
When 1 did crawl out of that flower
bed you can bet did look like sure
enough ghost. 1t took me month to
get to the settlements, and ever since
that time the very sight of flowers makes
me feel powerfully unwell, as you can
iudpe' -