Hardtack and coffee

by John Davis Billings

Josh Billings says somewhere that if he had a mule who would neither kick nor bite he would watch him dreadful “cluss” till he found out where his malice did lay. This same humorist must have had some experience with the mule, for he has said some very bright and pat things concerning him. Here are a few that I recall:—

“To break a mule—begin at his head.”

“To find the solid contents of a mule’s hind leg, feel of it clussly.”

“The man who wont believe anything he kant see aint so wise az a mule, for they will kick at a thing in the dark.”

“The only thing which makes a mule so highly respectable is the great accuracy of his kicking.”

“The mule is a sure-footed animal. I have known him to kick a man fifteen feet off ten times in a second.”

These are a few samples, most all of which have reference to his great ability as a kicker. Unquestionably he had no equal in this field of amusement—to him. His legs were small, his feet were small, but his ambition in this direction was large. He could kick with wonderful accuracy, as a matter of fact. Mule-drivers tell me he could kick a fly off his ear, as he walked along in the team, with unerring accuracy. This being so, of course larger objects were never missed when they were within range. But the distance included within a mule’s range had often to be decided by two or three expensive tests. One driver, whom I well knew, was knocked over with a mule’s hind foot while standing directly in front of him. This shows something of their range.

I have remarked, in substance, that the mule was conquered only by laying hold of or striking his ears. It may be asked how he was shod if he was such a kicker. To do this, one of two methods was adopted; either to sling him up as oxen are slung, then strap his feet; or walk him into a noose, and cast him, by drawing it around his legs. Of course, he would struggle violently for a while, but when he gave in it was all over for that occasion, and he was as docile under the smith’s hands as a kitten. Being surer-footed and more agile than a horse, of course he gets into fewer bad places or entanglements; but once in, and having made a desperate struggle for his relief, and failing, he seems utterly discouraged, and neither whip nor persuasion can move him. Then, as in the shoeing, the driver can handle him with the utmost disregard of heels; but when once on his feet again, stand aside! He has a short memory. He lives in the future, and his heels are in business, as usual, at the old stand.

I need not comment on the size of the mule’s ears. Of course, everybody who has seen them knows them to be abnormal in size. But disproportionately large though they may be, there is one other organ in his possession which surpasses them; that is his voice. This is something simply tremendous. That place which the guinea-fowl occupies among the feathered bipeds of the barn-yard in this respect, the mule holds facile princeps among the domestic quadrupeds. The poets who lived in the same time with Pericles said of the latter that “he lightened, thundered, and agitated all Greece,” so powerful was his eloquence. So, likewise, when the mule raised his voice, all opposition was silent before him, for nothing short of rattling, crashing thunder, as it seemed, could successfully compete for precedence with him.