The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1894-05-02
The Majors Mule.

| lltln NClSOn us nc pDlnUcu 10 u UculllSlcE
abusing a mule in n dirt wagon.
The major had stopped on the corner of
Second and Locust just as the scribe came
up, and the following story, which never
has appeared in print grow out of this
chance remark. ITS all wrong" says he,
"to abuse a mule and think he has no sense.
Mules are naturally bright and quick to
learn and they are the toughest brutes on
earth. l tell you, we found out in the ar
my how good they were and it is there
that learned to love them. a poor old
mule saved my life for me, | know that
| much"
GLOW was that, MAJOR" said the scribe.
ooh, never mind, - said the major, and
then, rs if evading the question, he contin
ued, "and how they would Bray used to
love to hear them. Why sir sometimes
we had "A train five miles long Well, when
we would be ordered to turn in and make
camp ut night, the first team to turn out
! of the road would begin to bray-they
! knew what it meant. Well, do you know
those mule teams would take it up and
along the line, five miles back, the way
they would bray was "a caution. And the
J way they would buckle down to work.
| They would nearly pull through their col
lars, and the last ones would come right
up in trot. I'll tell you mules have any
| amount of sense"
But how about one saving your life
majorf" said the reporter, who imagined
that he was getting close to something
readable.
"Oh, l don't like to say much about
| that. 1t was n close shave for me, and to
this day / don't like to talk or even think
about it.
"Tell me anyhow, " urged the reporter.
"You know ] don't print everything 1
heal"
"Well, most reporters do, said the ma
jor, land o great deal they don't hear.
But if you'll keep it to yourself I'll tell
you my story anyhow. Do you see this?"
and he ran his hand down into his pocket
and pulled ont something that looked like
rough lump of silver. "This is battered
Confederate rifle ball, said he. "When 1
first got it, it was very rough and dingy,
but 1t has worn smooth and bright in all
these years that have carried it us a peck
ct piece. And now for the story of how l
got it. During the years was in the war,
/ always hated to see the men abuse their
horses or mules, and especially the latter,
for too many of the soldiers thought just
as that fool boy did-that a mule was only
a vicious brute, to be abused on every OPP
portunity. In my command was II gray
mule that | had protected several timcs-I
don't know how many beatings l saved
him-and he grew to know me. | called
him Old BccswaX, for he was such n COM
ical old fellow, and l grew to pctting him
| and giving him some little bit to eat every
time he was near my tent. He would go
into Ccstasies over hard tack and would
lick army sugar out of my hand in a most
delighted way. Every time he got loose he
would hunt up my tent and hang around,
and often of n rainy night he has stood
with his head and neck stuck inside of my
tent seemingly perfectly contcnted The
boys got so they let him stay there. Wen,
one rainy night, near Chickamauga, | had
eaten supper and came out of the tent.
had somehow felt uneasy all the afternoon.
l was 'on picket and we were in Il dew
ilish nasty place, just where we could be
nicely surprised if each and every picket
was not very alert. Somehow l felt that
we were going to be attacked 1t was one
of those feelings that come over man, and
he can't tell how or why. Well, l decided
/ would just slip around and see that my
men were all well posted and wide awake
''At the door of the tent stood Old Bees
wax, and patted him and said, Como on,
old man, and let's go around and see the
boys and went ON, knowing that he
would follow me like a dog. Well, passed
several pickets, and each spoke and gener-
ally said something to the old mule, who
seemed to think he was helping me to look
into things. Down in IA hollow l stopped
under big pine tree never will forget
it-and looked all around. I don't know
why stopped, but something made me do
it. The mule came up even with me and
stopped also. Suddenly he cooked up his
nd 1tt1n and mn bp1
right up in front of me. He acted as if he
was going TO charge at something he either
saw or smelled. There was a sharp report,
a flash of fire, a squeal of pain, and the
poor mule sank at my feet.
"Of course the alarm was given, and the
whole camp turned out, but we never
caught the would be assassin. 1t was so
dark that he easily escaped. He was evil
IDENTIFY scout who had slipped up close
to camp and was watching his chance
to kill the officer whoever he might be,
who made the rounds of the pickets. 1t
was favorite trick, and many poor fell
low met his death that way. We could see
every track in the mud with our lanterns
and found right where he had been stand
ing. If the mule had not moved up just as
he did, in front of me, that bullet would
have gone through my heart and / would
uou w icio tanning w you' Nch yoh can
bet l turned my attention to Old BeeswaX,
but it was too late The ball had crashed
through his shoulder, gone through the
faithful old heart and lodged against q
rib on the side next to me- and he was
dead. Our surgeon cut out the ball and
gave it to me, and / have always carried
it, My company buried the poor mule neXt
day at the foot of the big pine tree and
do you know, | saw many a quiet tear IL
eyes that did not do much crying in thosC
stern times. I'll admit to you that my
own throat was pretty full. Now, do yoI
wonder that | don't like to see any poo
old mule abused?"-F. N. Gilbert, in EUdnt
UAe (Ind) Tribune.
nI,o nou In tho MouUnr