This to the gentleman who lives on the hill,Nor did I ever dream of hearing from mule or man again. But I did. The gentleman was an honored member of my own profession, Dr. J——, who returned me both mule and buggy in good order in the month of May or June after the surrender. I made my most grateful acknowledgements for his kindness as well as every possible apology for my silly note, which must have seemed to him very absurd and very unfitting an occasion of so much disaster. But my blood was younger then than now, and all soldiers, poor fellows, are apt to make merriment of misery. There was many a merry joke made amidst the fiercest fighting, and many a brilliant sally was spoken by lips sealed the next minute in death. But my mule—I feel that I cannot dismiss him so summarily—I am sure that the interest of my comrades is enlisted in his story. I had not gotten back home from durance vile, but a short time, when I had a note brought me by private hands (we had the luxury of few mails just then—it was the latter part of May, 1865), saying that if I would send for my mule and buggy I could get them. But whom
When I return may he live there still.
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