me taking a drink
with the general, and I went back to my regiment, resolved not to go
home, and to get even with the horse doctor for causing me to make a
fool of myself. However, I was glad I visited the general, for, after
getting acquainted with him, he seemed a real nice man, and he kept a
better article of liquor than the chaplain.

For several days nothing occurred that was worthy of note, except that
the chaplain took a liking to my horse, and wanted to trade a mule for
him. I never did like a mule, and didn't really want to trade, but the
chaplain argued his case so eloquently that I was half persuaded. He
said the horse I rode, from its friskiness, and natural desire to "get
there, Eli!" would eventually get me killed, for if I ever got in sight
of the enemy the horse would rush to the front, and I couldn't hold him.
He said he didn't want to have me killed, and with the mule there would
be no danger, as the mule knew enough to keep away from a fight. The
chaplain said he had always rode a mule, because he thought the natural
solemnity of a mule was in better keeping with a pious man, but lately
he had begun to go into society some, in the town near where we were
camped, and sometimes had to preach to different regiments, so he
thought he ought to have a horse that put on a little more style, and
as he knew I wanted an animal that would keep as far from the foe as
possible, and not lose its head and go chasing around after rebels, and
running me into danger, as my spiritual adviser he would recommend the
mule to me. He warranted the mule sound in every particular, and as a
mule was worth more than a horse he would trade with me for ten dollars
to boot. He said there was not another man in the regiment he would
trade with on such terms, but he had taken a liking to me, and would
part with his mule to me, though it broke his heart. At home there was
a sentiment against trading horses with a minister, as men who did so
always got beat, but I thought it would be an insult to the chaplain
to refuse to trade, when he seemed to be working for my interests, to
prevent me from being killed in a fight by the actions of my horse, so I
concluded to trade, though it seemed to me that if I couldn't shoot off
a horse without hitting its ears, I would fill a mule's ears full of
bullets. I spoke to the chaplain about that, and he said there was no
danger, because whenever fighting commenced the mule always wore his
ears loppe