The weekly echo. [volume] (Lake Charles, Parish of Calcasieu, La.) 1868-1876, 1876-04-20
THAT WALLER MULE.

It was Sunday morning, and the chimes
of the church-bells sounded clear and
musically on the crisp, frosty air. Mr..
Boblink, dressed in his Sunday suit OF
shining black, looked almost clerical, as
he stood by the window waiting for Mrs.
Boblink to finish her toilet and accom-
pany him to the house of worship. He
was calm, respectable, and a smile OF
selfcomplacency frightened his features
as he glanced at himself in a mirror, and
removed thread from his cOat-sleeve.
Mrs. BOblink was in the act of de-
scending the stairs, when a perfect vol
ley of banks from Towser broke the Sab.
bath quiet, and drew Mr.. Boblink to the
window. One glance, and he stood pet
rifed. Some tramp had left the gate
open, and there, in the center of his Or
namental grass plot, a gigantic mule was
tearing the winter covering of straw,
from his pet plants, and rapidly demOl-
ishing a fragile fancy arbor by scratch
ing his shoulder against it, while TOwser
circled about him, like a fly around
sugar-bowl, barking as if he would bark
himself inside out.
Mr.. BOblink was a man who thought
and acted quick Another glance, and,
Selling his best silk hat and gold-headed
cane, he strobe forth to expel the in
truder.
The enemy had once been of soapy-
yellow color, Judging from what little
hair remained; but age, clubs, exposure,
cart-rungs, starvation, brick bats and
boys had nearly removed all traces of his
hue. A row, of bristly tufts, like a
column of discarded blacking.b brushes,
was all he had 10 show for a name; his
tail was a sort OF compromise of natures
between stuffed club raveled out on
the end and an OvergrOwn German sau-
sage; the scalp lock of hair that graced
its tip had apparently created a corner
in the burr and thistle market; his ribs
stood ont like rungs in a ladder, and
made You feel like betting the money
you had saved up for the conV ersion of
the heather that he hadn't fed on any
thing more nutritious than cinders, clam
shells and clubbings since he was babe;
he might have been anywhere from
twenty to two thousand years old, and
served in both the revolutionary war
and the rebellion, judging from his scars.
His ankles and feet alone had survived
the touch Of time and the general wreck
Of matter, and still proudly proclaimed
his aristOCratic and blue-blooded lineage;
the former were as trim and taper as a
Murray Hin bellies, and his feet as small
as those Of Chinese woman. Still, to
look at his bland and innocent cOunte-
nance, as he stood this bright Sabbath
mort ing in Mr.. Boblink's garden, with
his eyes partially closed, and his enor-
nous cars slanting forward like twin fur
lined coal.scutties or canoes stood on
end, he was the picture Of injured inno-,
cence, and looked a. II be had been up
an night praying foT the forgiveness Of
the naughty boys who tied kettle to
his tail, or the hard.hearted men who
drove and dubbed him.
Mr.. Boblinks wrath died out al the
sight Of this mules meek and Christian
like department his heart now went
forth 70 the poor, abused wanderer, and
he approached him gently 70 lead him
forth, and strOked bis neck tenderly.
whoa mics old ielIow-oome along"
h solilOquized. Mans inhumanity to
mules makes-0, Lordyl darnationl let
gul on OH oh murder"
AIT. Boblink struggled, squirmed, and
tried 70 detach his shoulder from the
mules teeth. When he did succeed in
getting IL free, the mule kept a square
foot Of the cloth and a piece Of the flesh
70 remember him by.
Church-going people passing along
the road about this time would have
seen Mr.. Boblink spinning around on