The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1884-06-12
BURIED IN RANK FLOW
ERS.
The Unpleasant Grave in Brazil From
Which Veteran StOry-Teller
Escaued

From the Philadelphia Times.
81 turned out with my post to-day
and helped decorate the graves of our
brave boys, but 1 can't say that put
much heart in the business" said a
grizZled old veteran last night In an
Eighth street saloon, as he was about
to absorb his sixth glass of beer. Il
know l have surprised you," he con-
tinued, noticing the look of inquiry
on the faces of the bystanders, "but L
never see flowers or hear people talk
of decoration that 1 do not feel quite
knocked OUT
at was just this way" he contin-
ued, as he had his glass refilled and
held it UP between the light and his
eyes; "before the war l was one of a
party of adventures who, hearing of
the immense gold deposits in Brazil,
penetrated the heart of that country.
From the outstart we had very
rough time of it, and, to cap the eli
max, when we were dead failure in
our search, and were longing for home
again, we were captured by band of
meddling savages. They treated us
we'll, but closely guarded US so as to
prevent escape. After a period of
about six months, every man but my
self escaped, and made for the settle
ments. 1 tried, but was recaptured.
| must confess that l felt blue and
down in the mouth, but bore it and
determined to wait patiently for an
other chance to go away"
Another six months passed, but still
no opportunity offered Itself, when a
bright idea struck me. l persistently
do 70 low hnf co
cretly took just enough to keep again
ing, so that after while l 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 crowded in to see me,
though they kept at respectable dis
lance and refrained from touching
me. And if you'd believe it, they
left me laying there, too, until next
morning, when they come in a long
procession and placed me on a 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 be-
ing buried alive.
L was tenderly laid IN the hole and
there was a pause. Then several OBJ
jects struck me, and, peeping through
the crack of my eye lids, was sur
prised to find that they were flowers,
of the fragrant, luxuriant kind pecu-
liar to the country. The flowers con-
tinued to come, until perfect shower
fell. The sensation was pleasant to
the olfactory nerves at first, but after
l was completely covered up it got
sort O disagreeable, inasmuch as l got
sniff of the South American Jim
CIsW plant, the simple odor of which
is Sufficient to kill one. When the
grave was completely filled 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 a 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 I did crawl
out of that flower bed you can bet 1
looked like a sure enough ghost. 1t
took me month to get to the settle
ments and ever since that time the
very sight OF flowers makes me feel
powerfully unwell, as you can judge"