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GALUHERS INDEPENDENT, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT QUITMAN, A., by J. C. GALLAHER. TERMS OP SUBSCRIPTION * tWO DOLLARS per Annum in Advance. ■ ■'l ■L.-'L ■■■■■ -DIM VIVIMUS vrvAmß. w In the youth of the heart, ere the glorious ray That was born of life's morning has faded away: While the light lingers yet in the eyes that are dear. And the voices we lore still reman with us here: While the wine is yet red, and the stars are still bright. Aud the winds and the waves bring us music by night; While the warm Mood leaps tip when the forests resound With the tread of the horse and the bay of the hound Oh ! ever and always, as long as we may, *As we journey through life, let us live by the way.’* I>t ns live! tn the power to enjoy that is given, The earnest on earth of the glory ofheaven. In the courage that ever, in mirth or in sorrow, Has strength for each day, and a hope for each morrow: With smiles for the future, though tears for the Audrey in the hours that steal from us so fast* For the friends whose brave spirits have gath ered around us, For the love whose bright blooming tendrils have bound us. Though cloud or thro* sunshine encompass the day, "As we journey through life, let us live by the way.” When the world has grow n old, and the night stars st last, That rose in the future, have set in the past, Have that hrigheyt of all which is guiding us ever To the beautiful country beyond the dark river; When we pause at the end, and look thoughtfully back Through the change and the chance of the long, Weary track, It will cheer the old heart to be ablo to say, "As we've journeyed through life, we have lived by the way.*’ C LEFT ON A SAND REEF. BY BLUE .'A.KKT. It was a lucky day for you, Bunting, When you shipped with me as mate ou Umrd the Curlew. Why, our shares out of this alone will he fully forty thousand dollars. Then pur trading trip ou the eoust of Africa will roll mi at least ten thousand more.’’ “But seriously, Captain Madden, you do uot ioteud to appnpriate to your own n*e and the crew what you have this day obtained from the dismantled hulk of the j Notre Dame ?” “Do not intend to appropriate ?” roared the astonished captain, as he settled back in his chair and eyed his mate sharply. “Why, what the devil do you suppose I am going to and all the valuables i buck aboard of the old craft, and let her sink ?” “No, sir; there is no occasion to do that. But the silver and gold plate, the ; jewelry and precious stones can be restored to the wrightful owner. You have tile name and address af the gentlemen, so j have I, and we would justly claim salvage. But to keep tile property, with tbe facts iu our possession, would be robbery, and pnnishrthie by luw.” “Bo that is your opinion, is it Mr. Jack Bunting? Now listen to mine. Ift the first place, we discovered this old wa ter-logged craft floating about on the broad Atlantic with bo live men aboard to dispute ottr right of possession. The l craft was deserted, hud been given up to | her bite, and if we bad not boarded the j Norte Dame she wotdd have soon gone to , the bottom with all the valuables, ami they would have beeu forever lost, so far as tlieir usefulness is concerned. As it is, j we remove the riches that the owner aban- ■ doued, tbe old craft succumbs to fate and ; circumstances, the Norte Dame is re corded as lost at sea, and we are the sole j possessors of the secret." “Your argument, Captain Madden, does ; not change the fact that we knew where to to return the property that had been j fond. The simple fact of your wrest- j iug the valuables from the depths of the j ocean, as it were, does not by any means ' make them yours or mine. They must be returned.” “Must l>e returned I" ■ exclaimed the captain, turning pale with rage, “What do you mean by using the word must to me." I alouo am in authority aboard of the Curlew, and I shy that uot one penny shall go out of our possession. If your Conscience troubles you,l will see that your share is properly distributed. I do not compel you to take any portion of the prize.” '•>*o mad has the power to make me steal,” replied the mate, his dark eyes flashing with indignation as he returned the an augry glances of the captain. “Beware, sir; do not tempt me too fnr, or you’ll rue the day that you ever ran foul of Tommy Madden,” hissed the cap tain) his swarthy features abl&Ze with pas sion. “Nonsense, Captain Madden. lam old enough and capable of looking out for my self. Had I known that you had been a slaver, I would never have sailed with you. 8 avers are no better than pirates; they sail under much the same flag; and, so far as your inclinations are concerned, I have no" dcrabt but what you would like to take my life, provided you could do so without fear of detection. I know too much for your future welfare," “You do know too mneh, you cursed down-easter,” yelled the Captain, “and thns shall your knowledge perish with you,” and, with a movement like light ning, he whipped out a dirk, directing a blow at the young man’s heart. But the blow was never completed, the clenched band sank slowly to bis side, and the ex slaver shrank back, baffled and beaten at all points. The mate bad been as quick iu his movements as his superior, and with the flash of the knife blade came the glit ter of revolver pointed full at the rascal's head. “Have a care. Captain Madden, or there will be a coroner’s inquest liefe. These are dangerous tools to play with, the more so when the amusement is not confined to one party.” “Put up your revolver.” at last ex claimed the captain. “It is useless for us to fight, and equally impossible for you and I to sail together. * You must leave the Curlew.” “Just what I intend to do, sir. We are within twenty-four hours’ sail of the coast of Africa, and I will land on the first con venient point.” "Very well, As long as you remain, I presume you will continne to discharge yonr duties as chief mate.” “If you desire it, sir,” was the reply; and, withont answering, the captain left the cabin, and repaired on deck. The Curlew was a sharp, clipper schooner, owned and commanded by Cap tain Thomas Madden, engaged in the Af rican trade. Gold-dust, ivory, ostrich feathers, and gam wore the principal ar ticles for which the captain traded. Ho had t'rtm.d slaving rather too dangerous t (iallahcr’s Inbepeniimt. VOL. 11. follow, although he had run a number of cargoes successfully. He was a man of strong, vindictive passions, with no scru ples of conscience—one who would strike in the dark when he found it unsafe to confront a foe. Jack Bunting hod accepted the berth of mate on board the Curlew, for toe sake of the high wages offered by Maddeu. They were total strangers, having met by chance, aud tbe ex-slavcr rejoiced in having se cured the services of so fine a seaman and navigator. Buntiug hailed from Cape Ann, and had not lost the teaching and precepts of a mother who long since lmd reposed in the quiet village graveyard. Strong in his convictions of right and wrong, the mate would not swerve from the course he had selected, though death stared him in the face. The shades of night were rapidly deep ening, and the steward of the Curlew bus tled about the cabin, busy in preparing tlie evening meal. The tramp of many feet on deck, mingled with the harsh tones of the captain's voice, attracted Bunting’s attention, aud somewhat surprised at the 1 unwonted bustle, he slowly ascended the i steps leading from the cabin to the deck. “Seize him, my lads, down with the traitor; he would rob you of your hard earned dollars,” shouted Maddeu, and al most before be was aware of his danger, the mate was securely bound by a number of the lawless crew. “What means this outrage, Captain Maddeu ?” “It means, my conscientious friend, that I am about to dictate terms to you, and if you make any fnss I'll tickle your ribs with this,” and the ex-slaver again dis played his kuife. "You are a coward as well as a scoun drel, tlieu. Well, 1 could not expect much from one of your east. What do you pro pose to do, murder me ?” “Not exactly, unless you stir up my bad blood. The crew have been informed of your iutentions in regard to our prize. The boys object to your mode of settle ment, and think a whole loaf is better t han half a one. They propose to pitch yon overboard as the easiest plan of getting rid of you; but I am disposed to be more mer ciful You shall lmve a chance for your Life, and I advise you to make the most of it. Iu the first place, I will relieve you of this,” aud the captain inserted his hand into the mate’s pocket, drawing forth his revolver. “ 'Tis well you thought of it, for if my hands were free I would rid the world of six scoundrels, you among the number.” “Thank you, but I can afford to be charitable. But I waste time. Luff, my lad.” And the captain moved liis bund to the man at the wheel. “Ease off the fore sheet. Haul the jib sheet to windward; so that will do,” and the cutter shot up into the wind, ranged ahead then re mained gracefully rising aud falling upon the swell of the ocean. “Now, Mr. Bunting look sharp or you may regret it. Do you see that, faint dark steak to leeward: there where those guns are congregating ?" “I see it,” was the brief reply. “Well, it is a sand bunk, and many n time have I sighted it. On this occasion I propose to leave you there and I trust you will find the companionship of the gulls more congenial than that afforded by the Curlew’s crew.” Bunting made no reply. His eyes were fixed upon the low bank of sand, over which a number of guns were wheeling and screaming. “Cast him adrift and carry him to the gangway,” commanded the captain, and once more the mate lmd the free use of his arms. “I am sorry I cannot give yon a boat, Mr. Bunting, but you will not mind a ducking." “No, sir,” replied the mate, "I can swim, thank God; and mark my words, you cowardly rascals, all of you we, shall meet again;” and plunging head foremost from the low rail of the schooner, the mate struck out for the narrow strip of sand. It was quite darlrwhen no reached it and by the pale light of the moon he could make out the glimmer of the Cur lew's sails in the distance. Bunting watched the schooner out of sight,; there was no fixed purpose in his mind, and his thoughts were vague and unconnected. Finally, rousing himself, he walked over the narrow limits of his prison, and found that a small portion was uncovered at high water mark. Throwing himself down at full length, he remained motionless, either plunged in deep thought or wrapt in slumber. The sea birds circled and swooped about him, mingling their discordant notes with the lap, lap, of the water breaking continu ously along the beach; hut he moved not until the warm rays of the sun were glancing merrily on the golden saml. The heat, as the day advanced became intolerable, and in vain the unfortunate man sought relief from the rays of the sun. His month was parched with thirst his tongue clove to the root of Ills month and his sufferings were intense. Slowly the hours passed by, and the mate paced slowly to and fro. A (lead calm rested on the ocean! its surface was smooth as a mirror; all nature appeared to be hushed and subdued. The shades of night brought relief, and he moistened his burning month with the dew that fell copiously. Casting his eyes around the horizon he noticed a bank of of clouds that were rapidly assuming mammoth proportions. Above the entire firmament was obscure by a thick impre vions gray mist, and low murmurs was heard as if there was wind stirring aloft. The air was heavy, the darkness increased with each moment, and Banting, aware that a war of the elements was at hand, watched every change with more than nsnal interest. Occasionally a whirl of air would ruffle the dark frowning ocean, and strange, whizzing sounds darted through space, followed by the deep, heavy rumbling of thunder. Louder aud louder grew the distant mutter, a broad, flashing line be came visible beDeath the overhanging cloud sweeping the entire horizon, and then the hurricane burst in all its fury upon the deserted man. Lying at full length, Bnnting felt the sand and spray fly over and about him in showers, the waters roared about him breaking with fearful force upon the sand bank. The. tide, nrged on by the hurri cane, almost engulfed the island, and every moment the young man expected to be torn away aud perish. But all through the night, lie listened to the fearful tumult around him. and as daylight dawned the hurricane gradually subsided. The shriek of the gale was no longer heard but the sea thundered incessantly along the beach. A dark, shapeless mass, rising and fal ing iu the trough of the sen. caught the at QUITMAN, GA., SATURDAY, MAY 30, 1874. I tention of Bunting. It was a vessel dis j masted, and drifting directly on to the | Hand-bank. He could render no aid, and ! with silent horror beheld the wreck strike The wild waves overwhelmed the hulk, hastening to complete their work of de struction. Body after body Was washed ashore, but Bunting could disoover no signs of life in them. The shattered remnants of a spar plunged through the breakers, to which was hushed tlie body of a young woman to gether with three men. bushing into the surf, Bunting exerted his failing strength to the utmost, and a hard struggle suc ! needed in rescuing them from the under tow which swept out with terrible fores. His efforts were erowued with success; the i four that he had rescued still retained the breath of life, and slowly recovered. They were the sole survivors of the wreck. The lady’s name was De Wolf, aud Bunting started in surprise as he heard it. One of the three men said ho was the mus | ter of the shipwrecked vessel, which had been dismantled iu the hurricane, and the other two men a portion of the crew. Bunting related bis story, or ns much of it , as he deemed necessary to account for his J presence and the sand-bank, and was lis- j tened to with deep attention. The beach was strewn with fragments j of the wreck, interspersed with boxes and bales of cargo, barrels of beef, pork nnd I bread, casks of water, and numerous other articles, The half-famished mate helped ; himself to both food and water, and then i took the lady one side while the rescued j ! men by his direction commenced collect ing the ensks and barrels, with a view of j constructing a raft. “You say your name is De Wolf ?” in- ! quired the mate. “Yes, sir. My father is a frenchman, and j engaged in business on the Gaboon River. j He is on the point of leaving the country and returning to l-’rance. A large portion of our property was forwarded by tlie Notre Dame, and I took passage in Le Glorie; but our poor vessel was lost, and but for your aid my poor father would hae been childless. My mother died when I was a child.” “You mention your father—where is he ?” “On the Gaboon River. He is to start for hqme shortly. AH our valuables were directed to tlie care of our agent iu Bor deaux. ” Without further hesitation Bunting re lated to the astonished lady the fate of tlie Notre Damn and the disposition that had been made of her father’s hard-earned property. “The Curlew is bound up the Gaboon River, and if we can reach the main land we will have the rascals in u trap. ” The lady was almost overcome by the misfortunes that had assailed her, but rallied, and her dark eyes flashed with rage and determination as she thought of her father’s property iu the hands of such unscrupulous men. The captain of the Le Glorie was let into the secret, ami promised to lend his I aid together with that of his men to recover the valuables. The work of building tbe raft was pushed forward, and by nightfall was ready for launching. Tlie sea hud gone, down, the breeze was moderate and favorable, and with plenty of provision lushed securely, the party set forth on their perilous way. Bunting assumed charge, and spreading their iUsettiug sail the cumbersome raftj lumbered slowly through the water. The j mate shaped his course by the stars by i night, nnd steered by the wind during the '■ day. Fortune favored them, and on the third day the low laud of Africa was j sighted. Skirting along the coast, the high laud of the entrance to the river fi- 1 nully greeted the excited guze of tlie lit- j tie party. A landing was effected, the faithful raft was exerted, and traveling through the jungle under tbe guidance of Miss De Wolf they finally reached her father’s trading post, well nigh exhausted with the tre meudious exertions tlief had made. Monsieur De Wolf was speechless with surprise at the sudden appearance of his daughter and her male companions, but his surprise was soon replaced by rage as lie learned the fata of the Notre Dame and his portion of the cargo. The excited Gaul danced around the room, unable to control his passion us lie realized the great kiss be sustained, but gradually grew calmer as Hunting unfolded a plun to wrest tbe prize from the ex-slaver. The Curlew was at anchor a short dis tance up the river übove De Wolf’s resi dence, and it was determined to make at tuct that night. Delay was dangerous, as at any hour Madden might take it into his head to leave the river, * In the Frenchman’s house was an abun dance of arms of all descriptions, and the prrty made a selection from the little ar mory. A crew of natives manned a canoe. De Wolf with his daughter occupied the stern sheet, while Bunting with the French captain and his men were all stretched in the bottom of the boat covered with mats. The negroes kept time to their paddles with a rude but musical clmnt, atld the heavy craft was urged rapidly through the water. The river was dark and silent save the occasional splash of an alligator, or the subdued roar of some beast of prey ! roaming through the depths of the jungle. Soon the harsh voice of Madden was heard hailing the boat demanding their purpose and wants. De Wolf replied say ing he had a prime lot of feathers which lie was anxious to dispose of in addition to a lot of gum in the storehouse. They were invited aboard by Madden, and the Frenchman accompanied by his daughter accepted the invitation. An hour passed slowly by, Bunting gave the word to his companions to follow him, and under cover of the darkness they stole silently abroad. The men, exhausted by the labors of the day, were sleeping about the deck ’neath tho shade of the awning, and were secured to a man. Bound and gagged, they were rendered harmless. Then with a swelling heart Bunting ap proached the cabin. The Frenchmen followed close in bis rear, anxious to witness the denouement of the affair. The mate stood iu the door way and surveyed the scene before him. Madden was sitting with his back to the cabin door facing De Wolf and his daugh ter, who. of course, saw every movement of Bunting and his supporters. “You were speaking of the Notre Dame, Monsieur De Wolf. Were you interested in her?” “I should say I was. The bulk of my property is, or rather was, on board of “O, indeed. You say your property was ou board of licr. Is it not there now V” and the keen eye of the slaver glanCltd hurriedly from father to daughter. "Well, no, monsieur, I believe not.” “Where is it then “In your state-room," replied a deep, hollow voice, that caused Madden to leap from his chair and glance hurriedly over his shoulder. The tall, commanding form of Bunting met his gaze, the pule count* nnnee and dark eyes staring at him with a fixed, stony look that filled Madden's sonl with horror. His knees smote to gether, his head spun round, a deathly faintness seized him, and the ex-sluver fell insensible to tbe floor. “Ho far so good,” exclaimed Bunting, “The rascal images lie has seen my ghost. Secure him, Hud then for the last act of the drama.” The anchor was soon slipped, and, dropping down with tbe tide, the Curlew was soon abreast of Do Wolf’s residence. The negroes worked like beavers, the re mainder of the Free possessions were brought on board, and tbe canoe, as it shoved oft' for tlie last time, contained the crew of the schooner. Maddeu, how ever, remained on board. His hour had not yet come. Before daylight the Curlew was careen ing to the fresh, invigorating sea-breeze, and nil hands were in the highest possible spirits. Bunting bad revealed himself to Mad den, who preserved a sullen silence, brooding over the unexpected change that had occurred in his fortunes. Once more the Curlew was hove to, with the low saud bank close under his lee. The ex-slaver stood in the gangway with Bunting by his side, while the re mainder of the schooner's company formed n semi-circle about the two men. "Captain Madden, do you seo yonder sand bunk. I remember it, and ahull to my dying day. But a short time ago I stood in your present condition, and was forced to swim for my life. You expressed a wish that I might find the company of the gulls more congenial than that on board of the Curlew. I can now return the kindness. Jump, Captain Madden; plunge into the ocean, and when you reach yon sand bank, when "ho fierce rays of the sun causes your brain to boil, when your tongue hangs parched nnd swollen from your mouth, when your breath comes in dying gusps, turn to your God for aid if you dare call upon Him, nnd may your conscience bo ns clear as mine wits when you drove me to seek refuge on tbe same bank. Jump,” and with the word followed a splash. The Curlew filled pwav, and tho fleet vessel bounded lightly over the curling waves. The sunny laud of France was readied in safety, and Monsieur Do Wolf with his daughter were landed, together with the treasure. Boon after the Curlew wus destroyed by fire, and Bunting, richly rewarded by the grateful Frenchman, took passage in a steamer for his native laud, followed by the prayers of those lie had befriended. •,, Tbe fate of Madden call fie easily imag ined, but to the uninitiated his death and mysterious disappearance was always wrapt in mystery. The Fort Valley Mirror says: “Thursday we saw on the street eight or ten lean, ragged, half-starved negroes all the way from Cold water river, Mississippi, in an ox wagon. One of the party told us that they were hired by an emigrant agent last year and carried Off under promises of good homes, remunerative wages and prompt payment of the same. After get ting them out there, lie refused to pay them or furnish them with provisions, and they were forced to do jobs about for other farmers to get something to subsist upon. They left Mississippi January 15, and arrived at this place May 14, being on the road four months. One of them said to us “There is no place like sweet home, nnd ive intend to live aud die in Georgia.” A plot of ground at Cypress Hill Ceme tery, Brooklyn, has been presented to the journalistic fratenity of New York for the use of such members as may die poor in the persuit of their profession. The ground I ! is beautifully situated, and has been grate- ] i fully accepted by the New York Associaton of Journalists, whose intention it is to have I the ground graded and decorated, and a ! wall of granite enclose it. It. has also been j decided to erect a testimonial having slabs ' sufficient to accommodate the names of | those who may be interred iu the ground. At an early day the ground will be dediea* ted with the conventional services, iu I which H. W. Beecher, William C. Bryant and several prominent journalists will take part. The report of the chief of the Bureau of Statistics, show that since 1854 nearly ten million immigrants have landed in this country. The average immigration during the past three years has been about four hundred thousand a year, three-quarters of whom Were of the Anglo-Saxon, Teutonic and Celtic races, thus adding to the mate rial interests of the country a vast creative nnd industrial power, and weakening that of Europe in like proportion. — The Galveston News says) “The. day may come when the exports of wheat j from Galveston will exceed in value the exports of eotton. Not only the northern half of Texas is adapted to the production I of wheat, but the Indian Territory, Kan sas, Southern Missouri, and much other territory in the Northwest. An apple shook its blossoms on the | earth and made it bright and beautiful, and yet the tree was not impoverished, but sootl replenished its branches with fruit it could not have produced had it re tained the blossoms. Whoever will, may make his life the tree, and scatter the flowers of happiness all over the earth, X* Bishop Clark, of Rhode Island, has is sued a pastoral letter, urging that all the j chnrches in his diocese take up collections for the relief of sufferers by the Bouthern ; inundations. : Never burn kindiy-written letters, the I mute utterances of those afar, yet dear, ! whose faces you may never look upon ! again. Remember how many alittle notion 1 in tinware they will procure. One of the hardest and heaviest losses by the Mississippi overflow for the plan ters mid farmers to recover from, will be the destruction of their stock. The St. Joseph Journal estimates that in the par ish of Tensas, alone, not less than ftrehun ■ died head of horses and mules have died from the effects of the overflow, and the people are too poor to replace them. Burning of the Dead in Burmah. Among tlie Karens everything pertnin ing to death is regarded with absolute horror. The clothes, books and other possessions of the deceased uro all commit ted to the flan cs; nnd any one who should ; knowingly appropriate any Raft of them would be considered unclean forever. Even the piece of work on which a man or woman happens to be engaged when a dentil is announced to him most be at once abandoned, and however Valuable or costly it is never resumed. Thus, a house or boat in which is invested perhaps nearly all u poor man’s little fortune; a valuable web of cloth that Ims cost some feeble woman mouths of wearying labor; the harvest of a field Of garden which is just about to repay the season’s toil and anxiety, must be all alike consigned to ir redeemable destruction if tlieir owners should chance to be engaged on tlieir work when they see or bear of death. This copyist and his wife, a worthy young couple had been since their marriage zeal ously, engaged in trying to build them selves a bouse, living meanwhile in an old one near by. The frumuof the new build ing was already erected, but funds were wanting for the its completion, and these the young couple were earning, the man : by writing, the woman by wea\ ing, when death put a stop to their plans. A few days more would have completed the books and the cloth, and the sale of them Would have supplied ample means to finish the house. But uow the innocent volumes ou which the patient oopyist had spent long days of toil must, with the fine cloth of the poor wife, be consumed by fire, and oven the frame of the new house w ould share tho same fate. To touch again any of them after such a casualty would, in the estimation of tlieso snrperstitious Karen r, involve a curse more fatal than the poisoned tunic of Nessus conveyed to Hercules, entailing calamity, not only to the corporeal part, but to the soul through all future states of being. In accordance with the Karen custom, as soon as the young copyist had censed to i breathe, every pan of tho body, even the j face, was closely enwrapped in coarse white cloth, and the corpse laid out on a j bench in the outer room, where all who : come in might weep over it. Rice was J poured down in piles at the head and feet, together with fruit, tobacco, cigarettes | and betel-nut: and on ono side of the body I was placed a basket containing a drinking ! enp, a knife and a spoon, ami some cook ! ing utensils. The spirit of the dead man was then invited to eat freely ns while in ! the body, and exhorted not to be ashamed; ! whilst uU his deceased friends who had | preceded liim to the land of spirits were j urged to return nnd escort their brother |to liis destined abode. Meanwhile, the nearest relatives, with the young wife at their head, crowded round the dead body, | prostrated themselves with wail and la mentations, and implored the departed to return and bless tlieir longing ears once more with tbe souud of liis familiar voice. Others sang dolorous ditties nnd chanted songs iu figurative language nnd in a pe culiar measure. During the singing a i large party of friends and relatives engaged | in a curious game called “Tiger and Fowl,” 1 which, they told us, was designed to sym i bolize the conflict of the disembodied j spirit with the powers of the air— t. e. , | witches, demons and hobgoblins. Then i followed in succession sundry marches I around the bier, fresh prostrations and more lugubrious ditties, and hot water was poured out ut the head and feet to supply the deceased with drink in his new abode. At nightfall small tapers wore lighted for a brief interim and placed near the corpse, while one of near km marched round it to proclaim to tho dead man the points of the compass, the tops and roota of the trees, and other important items of locality, but always directly the reverse of their true position, as the Karens believe that the residence of departed spirits, unless they are born again into (mother form, is di rectly at antipodes wjth our earth, which they hold to be a circular plane. When these various ceremonies had been com pleted the lights were extinguished, and all, they told us, was to remain in stain j quo for about thirty-six hours, when the burning would take place. This interval Was spent by the relatives and friends in feasting and revelry. While burning, the body was seperated by a sort of kiln from the fuel surrounded it, so as to prevent the mingling of the ashes of the corpse and those produced by the incineration of the wood. This pre caution is always taken where the ashes are to he preserved; otherwise, all is con sumed together, and to work of demolition either case occupies scarcely an hour. But before the bones have been reduced to ashes the Karens select a single otic, usually that of an arm or finger and care fully preserve it till a convenient time for bringing the relatives and friends together again. In the ease of the deceased copy ist this meeting was to take place four days.after the burning of the body; and wishing to see the end, we concluded to remain in the neighborhood, visiting Bassein in the interim and returning to 00-twau in time for the concluding rites. At the appointed time a great feast was prepared, ceremonies similar to those per formed over the body were repeated over the bone, its solitary representative, and a solemn dirge was sting to frighten off Mukiba, an evil spirit of whom the Karens stand in special dread. Then one of the silver bangles worn by tho deceased on his wrists and ankle was hung up jimt over a vessel of cooked rice of which the departed spirit was invited to partake. On inquiring tho reason of this ceremony we were told that if the bangle and the string by which it was suspended should remain perfectly motionless this would be received us an indication that the soul of the deceased was a prisoner iu hell, and the party would break up ill dismay. But if the string should evince a tumulous motion the bangle turn round or the cord snap suddenly in twain, the survivors would see in these tokens indisputable evidence that the deceased had answered their call. Fortunately for their credulity the bangle (moved no doubt by the passing breeze) did turn suddenly around and the poor wife with a cry of joy, pressed it eagerly to her lips. The spirit was then invited to the grave prepared for ; the bone which was buried with the food i and clothing the dead man was supposed i to require in the spirit-land, and money ! with which to ransom himself if he should chance to be taken prisoner on the way by any evil-minded demon. The whole company then clapped their hands throe times, saying, “Go in peace I This grave is thy small house, hut thy grand and spacious mansion is on the cool bank of the river Mandokawa, where beauteous maidens recline on beds of fragrant flow - I era and all is cool, calm, and quiet.” With this loving valedictory the funeral rites ended, flha the company dispersed. The urn containing the precious ashes was carefully laid away by the liereaved wife, but tin* grave in which the solitary lame lmd been deposited could ueVer be fetlsiteil It was thenceforth nut merely a spot devoid of interest, but one sure to endanger the well-being of any rash enough to approach it, even by nccident.— f.ijqnncoll't Magazinefor May. (From the Macon Telegraph and Messenger.] Burial Place of Gov. Troup and Borne Reminiscence* of Him. Brown's Hotel, May 13, 1874. Editor a Telegraph and Messenger: I ob serve in the Morning Star of to-day that a letter lias appeared in the Augusta Chronicle it Sentinel from the Macon cor respondent of that paper, giving a histor ical reminiscence of the late ex-Ooveruo* Troup of Georgia, and the writer claims that his remaius repose in the city of Macon. If the writer of the letter had known the facts patent to all readers, or had even examined tho recent excellent map of Georgia, by Oapt. A. G. Butts, Of Ms; on, he would not have ventured to make the statement which I find in the paper alluded to. ’('lie facts ate the ei-Gotefnof died while ou a visit to one of his plantations in Montgomery county, iu April, 186(5, aud I understood at Valdosta, the day after lilh death, that lie expressed a desire to be buried by tha side of liis brother Rob ert, who had died in 1848, sod was buried at liis Rose Mouut farm, ut) the east side of the Oconee river, some twelve or fif teen miles from Valdosta, the permanent residence of the ex-Governor. The ashes of that illustrons man repose by the side of his brother, Robert Troup, and not Valdosta as some people crroniously sup pose, nor iu the city of Macon, as the correspondent of the Chronicle k Sentinel would hate the public believe. Thomas M. Forman, Esq., a son-in-law, was ap pointed oneof the ex-Governor’sexeoutors, and not long after the death of tho father-in-law, lie had tombs of the most substantial masonry placed oler the broth ers and surrounded with eostly iron rail ing, and it is probable that tlieir ashes will be undisturbed, if uot for all time, at least for ages to come. Should any oue be curious to see tho tomb of ex-Governor Troup, or his “last resting place,” he will find tlie Rose-Monnt farm nearly equi-dis tonc between Valdosta and Mount Vernon, the county site of Montgomery, When the “curious visitor” slia l reach Mercer’s creek, a stream that flows into the Oconee river ou the east side, he will be near the spot where repose tbe ashes of the illustri ous Georgian. He Ims only to leave the old Darien and Milledgeville road, turn southward, and in a few minutes the ordi nary place, Rose-Mount farm will break upon hisvision. If the dwelling on the farm is as it was in 18£W, the curious visi tor will find the tomb of the ex-Governor not more than forty or fifty yards from the mansion. Having written tbe forgoing to Vindi cate the truth of “biography,” I will make a few additional remarks iu relation to the ex-Governor as tlie occasion seems to jus tify it, and premise that if tliete was a man living whom I knew and Understood Well, it was the ex-Governor, though this knowl edge was the out growth of nearly twenty years of correspondence and friendship. There was one prominent trait in tlie character of this remarkable man, and it was his extreme modesty or a chivulrio delicacy that made it repugnant to his feelings to speuk of the part lie acted, not only iu the political history of the country but in the transactions of life. He was free to speak of public affairs, but ho was unlike tlie statesmen of the present day, he omitted to speak of the past relating to himself. Ho was a member of the two houses of Congress for a quarter of a century, and I never heard him speak of any measure that came before tho Con gresses iu which he spoke of the part he took and yet he gained a brilliant repu tation for denouncing the Yazoo fraud. He was Governor of Georgia four years— beating Talbot ut the first election, and Clark at the second, aiid I never heard him speak of either contest, nor of any measure that Came before him ns the Executive of the Ntate, and I doubt if there wus a man living who possessed a better recollection of the events through which lie had passed than he did. Not many mouths before he died the writer of this spoke of a duel that occurred iu Sa vannah between a couple of well known citizens, in which the cx-Governor was a second, with the view of learning somo thing of the cause of the quarrel and the result. This information was obtained from the pages of a work on duelling then just published in Boston. His answer was extremely brief. It was that the duel Was fought—that otle of the parties was badly wounded. He said nothing of being a second in the affair and I learned nothing from his statement more than I may have derived from others who remained in Savannah the day the hostile meeting took place on the South Carolina side of the river. If I ever knew a mau who dis dained falsehood and chicanery, it was the ex-Govcrnor, and if I ever knew a man who was born insensible to fear, it was he. When I saw Gen. Jessup’s opinion that Geo, J\J. Troup, of Georgia, was about the only person at Washington when the British were marching on the Capital who was thoroughly composed and to himself, I felt the truth of the statement from my knowledge of him derived from an intercourse of many ; years. A little Incident is sometimes a j ! key to the character of a man, and an ! illustration of this sort occurred one day I at Blackshear farm in the presence of several persons. The party visiting were sitting around the table in the dining room, j when to the surprise of all, large pieces lof plastering commenced falling, which were the thickest and heaviest I ever ! saw in my life. It was only a few seconds | before the room was cleared of all except j the ex-Govemor, who remained, though At great peril it was thought by those leaving, and such must have been his own ! conclusion, but to fly, to him, to get out ; of the way of danger—it seemed to be j foreign to his nature, and there he sat, ! and as General Jessup observed seemed to ibe the only one who was thoroughly j composed of the party. For the present 1 will say no more. 8. Josh Billings says, “The live man is like a little pig; he iz weaned young and begin to root early. He is the pepper* ! grass ov creation, the allspice ov the world. One live man in a village is like a case ov the itch at a distvikt school- lie , sots everyboddy scratching at oust. ” MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS, I The Cincinnati elephuftt that swallowed two gntlofis of whisky at one gulp say that j be took it for “n cold.” A man hangs himself and ‘'nb Settee" j is assigned, wrietl ctery Ofie ttftfst know : that the rope was the cuuse. There is laughter in Chicago lieeaiiso a Ht. Louis detective wefit there end bad hi* pocket picked on a horsfi-Wif. A lady asked a veteran which rifle car ried the maximum distance. The old chap answered. “TheMininie, mum." A Maine debating society is now wftsD ling with the question: “Is a .Sabbath school Ntipetihtendent justified in wearing a red neck-tie ?” There is a man at Bay Ridge wlioes pedal extremities are so large that the urchins fill np his foot-print* with water and sail boats in them, A man was boastlttg that be had been married for twenty years and had never giVett his wife a cross word. Those hilt) knew him say he didn’ldnre to. “Tliis summer ladies are going to dress their hair as they did three hundred year,'; ago,” says an exchange. This makes some of the ladles pretty old. f A young lady will sail in the next steamer ! from Boston for Europe who doesn't ex i peet to marry a nobleman j another otto who isn't going to Italy to study music. A paper at Elgin soys that a man’s social standing in that town Is graded by whether he drops a ten-penny nail ora quarter into ; the ohuroh onntribiition-bor. “I’m so thirsty 1” said a boy at Work if! a cornfield. “Well, Work away," said his industrious father. “You know the prophet says;‘Hoe, every one that thirst ethi ” NO. 4. A hard-motley Congressman condensed his speech by holding a ten-dollar green back in one hand nnd a ten-dollar gold piece in the other, and asking, “which will you huve? ’ Taking care of a baity sud sewing but* tons on a Wife's shoes were adduced, in A trial the other day, as evidence tending to show a husband's uffection for a wife whom he subsequently shot. An Oswego paper descripes a Are by saying that "the red flames danced in the heavens afid flntJg their fiery anus about like a black funeral pall until Ham Jones got on the roof und doused them out with a pail of water.” Impertinent dandy (a stranger).—“May I have the honor to accompany you, miBS ?” Coolyonng lady.—“ Certainly: but keep behind, in your proper place, J dis' charged my lust footman for ifflpcfle* nance.” A Down Easter believes there is noth ing like advertising. He lost his pocket book recently, advertised his loss in tho local newspaper, and nest morning went down into his own eellarand found it oil the floor. A gentleman met U half-witted lad in tha road, and placing in one of his hands A sixpence and ft penny, asked him which of the two he would chooee. The lad replied that he “wouldn’t be greedy; he’d keep the littles 1 /’ As two children Were playing together, little June got angry and pouted. Johnny said to her, “Look out, Jane, or I'll take a seat up there on your lips.” “Then," replied Jane, quite cured of her pouts, “111 laugh, and you’ll fall off.” I Two Milesians were standing at th | Fail-mount water works, watching the big wheels splnsbing tbe water, wheii one of 1 them remarked: “Miko, isn't this a quaro | country, where they have to grind theif ! water before they can use it ?” John Randolph met a personal enemy iu the street oue day, who refused to giro I him half the sidewalk, saving that be never ! turned out fora rascal “Ido,” said Rau ! dolph, stepping aside and politely raising his hat. “Pass on." An Illinois woman, when they first he* gAti to have C'ongressmen-at-large out there, hearing the fact alluded to, straightway rushed into the kitchen/ exclaiming, “Sarah Jane, don’t leute tha clothes out to-night, for there's a Con gressman at lurge.” In Truekee, Nevada, the other day, A group of five able-bodied individuals Were conversing about fireurms. Oue offered to wager the drinks that there were not three revolvers in the crowd. The bet wus ta* ken, aud tbe result was six revolvers, threw derringers, and ahorse pistol. A politician who found it wouldn’t do to try to please everybody, gave it up, and declares: “Henceforth I am a free man and shall not try to please more'n four out of five. Home one is always sure to bo offended. If I even sound the prnise of my Maker, it raises the dander of tho Old One." A MilWakee paper says of a literary gen tleman of that city: “The sulalued light of those mild blue orbs is indeed the slum bering lire of genius. He is also a very good young mam With the exception of a few games of marbles played on Sundays while a boy, his life has been without re proach.” A young mun ( who left Brooklyn three years ago to "go West and gfoW Up," has just beeu heard form. He writes home to his friends, from Idaho, saying that the country is the most beautiful the sun ever shone on, and the inhabitants the most sociable he ever met, Also, that ho expects to be hanged in about fourteeu days for stealing a mule. A young bootblack observed a neighbor poring over a newspaper, whereupon he addressed him thus: “Julius what, are you looking at dat paper for ? You can’t read 1" “Go away,” cried the other, indignantly: “guess I can read: ’s big enough for dat.” “Big enuff!” retorted the other scornfully; “dot siut nuffln. A cow’s big 'nuff to catch mice, but she can’t.” Somo crusty old bachelor snys: I hare noticed that when there is only one daughter in a family, and her parents are very anxious to keep her at home as long as possible, somo chap coaxes her off before she is seventeen. I have also noticed that where there is a house full of givls, and the parents are praying daily for husbands for the same, the whole lot are apt to live and die old maids. A Granger dreamed that he died. He went straight to the spirit-world; lie knocked at the gate of the New Jerusalem, and it was opened unto him. The books were opened: he was asked, “Did you ever belong to any secret society?” To which he replied, “I did—to the Grangers.” “Then, sir, yon can’t be admitted; depart.” He then went to the door of the bottomless pit, where the same questions were agaiu asked him by the Devil, and again he was told to depart. After ho bad gone a little way off, he was accosted bv the homely ruler of the pit, when the following propositions were made: “Stranger,” said Ni.:k, “I will not admit you here; they do not want yon in heaveu; but I will sell you two hundred barrels of brimstone for cash, ton per cent, off, uud you cau start a little hell of your ou, with no ageat# o,: middle men.”