The mules were my especial delight; and an hour's study of a constant
succession of them introduced me to many of their characteristics:
for six of these odd little beasts drew each army wagon and went
hopping like frogs through the stream of mud that gently rolled along
the street. The coquettish mule had small feet, a nicely trimmed
tassel of a tail, perked-up ears, and seemed much given to little
tosses of the head, affected skips and prances; and, if he wore the
bells or were bedizened with a bit of finery, put on as many airs as
any belle. The moral mule was a stout, hard-working creature, always
tugging with all his might, often pulling away after the rest had
stopped, laboring under the conscientious delusion that food for the
entire army depended upon his private exertions. I respected this
style of mule; and, had I possessed a juicy cabbage, would have
pressed it upon him with thanks for his excellent example. The
histrionic mule was a melodramatic quadruped, prone to startling
humanity by erratic leaps and wild plunges, much shaking of his
stubborn head, and lashing out of his vicious heels; now and then
falling flat and apparently dying a la Forrest; a gasp--a squirm--a
flop, and so on, till the street was well blocked up, the drivers all
swearing like demons in bad hats, and the chief actor's circulation
decidedly quickened by every variety of kick, cuff, jerk and haul.
When the last breath seemed to have left his body, and "doctors were
in vain," a sudden resurrection took place; and if ever a mule
laughed with scornful triumph, that was the beast, as he leisurely
rose, gave a comfortable shake, and, calmly regarding the excited
crowd, seemed to say--"A hit! a decided hit! for the stupidest of
animals has bamboozled a dozen men. Now, then! what are _you_
stopping the way for?" The pathetic mule was, perhaps, the most
interesting of all; for, though he always seemed to be the smallest,
thinnest, weakest of the six, the postillion with big boots, long-
tailed coat and heavy whip was sure to bestride this one, who
struggled feebly along, head down, coat muddy and rough, eye
spiritless and sad, his very tail a mortified stump, and the whole
beast a picture of meek misery, fit to touch a heart of stone. The
jovial mule was a roly-poly, happy-go-lucky little piece of
horseflesh, taking everything easily, from cudgeling to caressing;
strolling along with a roguish twinkle of the eye, and, if the thing
were possible, would have had his hands in his pockets and whistled
as he went. If there ever chanced to be an apple core, a stray turnip
or wisp of hay in the gutter, this Mark Tapley was sure to find it,
and none of his mates seemed to begrudge him his bite. I suspected
this fellow was the peacemaker, confidant and friend of all the
others, for he had a sort of "Cheer-up-old-boy-I'll-pull-you-through"
look which was exceedingly engaging.
Pigs also possessed attractions for me, never having had an
opportunity of observing their graces of mind and manner till I came
to Washington, whose porcine citizens appeared to enjoy a larger
liberty than many of its human ones. Stout, sedate-looking pigs
hurried by each morning to their places of business, with a
preoccupied air, and sonorous greetings to their friends. Genteel
pigs, with an extra curl to their tails, promenaded in pairs,
lunching here and there, like gentlemen of leisure. Rowdy pigs pushed
the passersby off the sidewalk; tipsy pigs hiccoughed their version
of "We won't go home till morning" from the gutter; and delicate
young pigs tripped daintily through the mud as if they plumed
themselves upon their ankles, and kept themselves particularly neat
in point of stockings. Maternal pigs, with their interesting
families, strolled by in the sun; and often the pink, baby-like
squealers lay down for a nap, with a trust in Providence worthy of
human imitation.--_Hospital Sketches._