Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 March 1894 — HE WANTED A MULE. [ARTICLE]

HE WANTED A MULE.

But Wouldn’t Accept One Because II Wouldn’t Kick. A placid man, with an innocent guilelessness that was as beautiful to look at as it seemed easy to have fun with, stepped timidly into a livery and sale stable the other morning and asked for the proprietor, says a Detroit exchange. That gentleman came forward promptly. “Anything I can do for you to-day, sir?” he asked with the courtesy of a courtier. “Um-er,” hesitated the visitor, “I want to buy a mule. “I’m sure we can suit you; just got in a lot last week. Step this way, please," and the proprietor ambled out toward the rear of the stable. “What kind of a mule do you want?** he asked when they had reached the mule counter. “I rather like the looks of that large and portly one over there by the wall,” ventured the visitor, in a hesitating manner. “Here, John,” called the proprietor to a stable boy, “bring out that large and portly mule,” and he chuckled low down as the boy led out the beast, “There.” he went on, “that is a mule fit to work anywhere; good eyes, good legs, broad shoulders,, mealy nose, paint-brush tail, all the modern improvements, and y< u can have him for $175 cash; just what he cost to get him here. ” The mild-faced man walked around him, carefully not to say cautiously. “Fine animal,” he murmured, as if afraid to speak. “Fine as silk,” corroborated the d6B>l.6T* “Wiil he kick?” asked the visitor, softly. The dealer’s face showed a long streak of pain, his bosom heaved, ana he threw up his hands in deprecation. “My dear friend,” he almost wept, “what do you take me for? Of course the mule won’t kick.” The placid man turned away disappointedly. “I don t want a freak,” he said sadly. “I’m not running a dime museum,” and as he disappeared from the stable the dealer backed up close to the mule and begged the stable boy to tickle its heels for about a minute.