Uncle Dick and Lisa's Old Time Animal Tales

The two lines were facing one another, with only a short distance separating them. A farmer rode into the Confederate camp on a mule. Most of the soldiers had been farmers and were good judges of horseflesh, so that in conversation with the old farmer the merits and demerits of the mule came up naturally for some discussion. It was a good mule, they agreed with the farmer “but” added the owner, “I’ve never seen another man that could ride him.”
This remark brought on another discussion. Several of the soldiers protested that they had never been thrown from a mule, and were willing to bet that they could ride this one. One of the most vociferous in praising his own horsemanship was a commissary. He swore he could ride that mule, and finally it was decided to let him try.
He had no sooner mounted than the mule began plunging viciously, and then he ran around in a circle several times at breakneck speed, the commissary holding on for his life.
Suddenly that mule made a break for the front. The commissary shouted in vain. Every attempt was made to stop them, but the mule was wild and the commissary knew that if he once let loose he would have been buried.
On like a tornado-and as straight as the crow flies-on past the Confederate outposts and heading for the Yankee lines. They watched him until the mule was lost in sight.
That was the last seen of them, nor has one word ever been heard from that day to this of the commissary or the mule.-Atlanta Constitution.