defended
himself the best he could; but he was finally taken prisoner and tied,
until the fate of Mcintosh was known. Then he was murdered, and his body
thrown into the river near where he lived. The Indians marched back
to the Tallapoosa country with the scalps of these unfortunate men.
Mcintosh's scalp was suspended from a pole in the public square of
Ocfuskee, and young and old danced around it with shouts of joy.

General Mcintosh was a cousin of Governor Troup, being the son of
Governor Troup's uncle, Captain William Mcintosh, who was frequently on
the Chattahoochee before the breaking-out of the Revolution.

REMOVAL OF THE CHEROKEES.

When Georgia had begun to recover its breath, after the difficulties
with the Creeks, the people had time to discover that they had a much
more serious problem to deal with in the Cherokee nation, which occupied
all the northwestern portion of the State. Those who mingled thrift with
their benevolence, and had the courage to think about the future of
the whites as well as the future of the savages, thought that both
ends would be attained by making a permanent settlement for the Indians
beyond the Mississippi River. Those whose benevolence was a mixture of
sentimentality and romantic misinformation thought the Indians ought
to be left where contact with the whites would tend to civilize
and Christianize them. Consequently there were two parties to the
discussion, and a good deal of practical selfishness at the bottom of it
all. There used to be an old song running in this wise,--

"All I want in this creation,
Is a pretty little wife and a big plantation
Away up yonder in the Cherokee nation,"--

and this song no doubt represented the real feeling behind the whole
matter. The big plantation was what was really wanted. At the same time
it should not be forgotten that it was for the benefit of the Indians as
well as the whites that they should be settled in a section where they
would remain undisturbed. This policy has been proven by time to be the
true one.

Travelers and romancers have done no end of harm by exalting the Indian
character, covering up its faults, and exaggerating its merits. Romance
has made great heroes of the Indians; but in the whole history of the
red men, so far as it has been faithfully chronicled, the names of the
Indians of unmixed blood who are worth remembering can be counted on the
fingers of two hands.

Sequoia, or George Gue