The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-01-27
A Mule Kick, q Beehive.

was visiting gentleman who lived
in the vicinity of Los Angeles. The
morning was beautiful. The plash OF
little cascades about the grounds, the
buzz of bees and the gentle moving OF
the foliage of the pepper, trees in the
scarcely perceptible ocean breeze made
up a picture which I thought was COM
piete. 1t was not. A mule wandered on
the scene. The scene, ! thought, could
have got along without him. He took a
different view
OF course mules were not allowed on
the grounds. That is what he knew.
That was his reason for being there.
While l was thus thinking, the mule,
which had wandered up close to large
beehive got stung. His eyes lighted up.
as if that was Just what he was looking
for. He turned on that beehive and
took aim. He fired. In ten seconds,
the only piece of beehive L could see was
about the size man feels when he has
told a Joke that falls on the company like
"a piece of sad news. This piece was in
the air. 1t was being kicked at.
The bees swarmed. They swarmed a
good deal. They lit on that mule earn
sstly. After he had kicked the last piece
of beehive so high that he could not
reach it any more, he stopped for an in
slant. He seemed trying to ascertain
as to whether the ten thousand bees
which were singing him meant it. They
did
The mule turned loose. never saw
ANYTHING to equal it. 1t was enveloped
in a dense cloud of earnestness and bees,
and filled with enthusiasm and stings.
The more he kicked the higher he arose
from the ground. may have been mis-
taken, for l was somewhat excited and
very much delighted, but that mule
seemedito rise as high as the tops OF the
pepper trees. The pepper trees were
twenty feet high. He would open him.
self like frog swimming. Sometimes,
when he was in mid air, he would look
like he was flying, and would think for
q moment he about to become an angel.
Only for moment. There are probably
no mule angels.
A sweet calm and gentle peacefulness
pervaded me.
When he had kicked for an hour, he
began to fall short OF the tops of the
pepper trees He was settling down
closer to the earth. Numbers were tell
ing on him. He looked distressed. He
had always been used to kicking against
something, but found now that he was
striking the air. 1t was very exhaust
ing.
He finally got so he did not rise clear
of the ground, but continued to kick
with both feet for half an hour, next
with first one foot and then the other for
another half an hour, then with his right
foot only every few minutes, the inter
walls growing longer and longer, until he
finally was still. His head dropped, his
lip hung lower and lower. The bees
stung on. He looked as if he thought
that mean, sneaking advantage had
been taken of him.
1 retired from the scene. Early the
next morning I returned. mhe sun came
slowly up from behind the eastern hills.
The light foliage of the pepper trees
trembled with his morning caress. His
golden kiss fell upon the opening roses.
A bee could be seen flying hither, an
other thither. The mule lay near the
scene of yesterdays struggle. Peace
had come to him. He was dead. Too
much kicking against nothing Jan
uary Californian.