Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-01-30
THE BURRO.
His Perseverance,, His Vocal POtcers, HIS
Digestion, and HIS Bachi'ag Qualities.
Denver News.

Denver News.
1 admire his perseverance. Some people
call it obstinacy, but they take but mar
row view of the burro's character. They
look at him through a single-barreled eye
glass. have seen burro work for hours
to get his foot stuck into an empty tomato
can. When he succeeded have known him
to go miles out of the way, in the darkness
of midnight, to wake up some drowsy pros
pector with his melancholy tintinnabula-
ton. I have known him to come back re-
peatedly with his serenade, although he
had not been encored, and no floral offer
ings had been received. 1 have seen him
crawl under the protecting bed of rail-
road wagon and strain every nerve to
boost it off the road. True, he did not sue
coed in his main desire, but he did ever
lastingly smash two coffee-pots and destroy
the continuity of his owners bedding.
1 have seen him desert a bundle of hay
to 90 away and MUNICH cactus and gravel.
He couldn't get the same amount of nour-
ishment from the latter in the same space
of time, but he scorned to be influenced by
such consideration.
respect his digestive apparatus. One
day I stood on mountain side with dys
peptic from Greeley, who for years had
eaten nothing but Graham bread and
cracked wheat. We were watching burro
feed. Az the animal slowly and conscien-
tiously chawed up the -four and gunny
sacks, got away with salt bags and ham
covers, gathered in brown paper and old
socks, and finally tackled a large sized sar-
dine box, the tears welled up in the eyes of
the Greeley man, and in a husky voice he
said: "Gracious! if only could do that"
worship the intellect of the burro. He
cannot be humbugged. He knows when he
is within clubbing distance, and when he
is not you can yell at him till you are
black in the face, but he won't move. Some
of the incidents that attest his sagacity are
almost marvellous. was once sitting on
soft sandstone bowlder in the little town
of c.. Down the meander1ng street came
old Skipton, driving before him one of the
most remarkable jacks l ever saw. In the
ruggedness of his physical composition he
was almost scenic. Half of his left ear
was gone, and numerous clear places on
his hide made it apparent that he was ad-
dicted to the hot bath.
- here ulu JOu SOb IndU n1ONh3 On1P'
asked.
"Wreckr' he replied scornfully; ''why,
you tenderfoot, that's Henry Ward Beech
er. He's the father of his country, and
he's just got more brain-power than any
jack in this state"
intellectual, is he?" 1 inquired.
':Well, should blush. Why, I'll just tell
you little act he did yesterday. We was
working upon the High Hopes-me and
Jim Atkinson, my partner, and we got to
feeling little peekish along about noon,
and went up to the shanty to fire up.
Well, Jim he was sacking up a
few pounds of ore to have sampled,
and 81. Ward was a-standing by, and
somehow Jim he slipped and fell in the
shaft, but he caught on the bucket, and
she commenced flying down like thun-
der, and the shaft was near onto hundred
feet. Well, what did Beecher do? Why,
he knew that it wouldn't do to try and
catch the handle, so ne just backed up
agin the windlass and held hard till he
stopped her and saved Jim's life; that's
what he did, and I'll take my paralyzed
oath on it, and soil Jim. See where. it
took the skin off his launches"
The cuticle was evidently gone, and Skip
looked most solemnly in earnest. 1 could
not doubt him. We went across the street
and Skip took little ginger in his.