The One Incident Of Our Return Worthy Of Literature Was The Dramatic
Triumph Of A Woman Over A Man And A Mule As We Saw It Exhibited On The
Parapet Of A Culvert Over A Dry Torrent's Bed.
It was the purpose of
this woman, standing on the coping in statuesque relief and showing
against the sky the comfortable proportions of the Spanish housewife, to
mount the mule behind the man.
She waited patiently while the man slowly
and as we thought faithlessly urged the mule to the parapet; then, when
she put out her hands and leaned forward to take her seat, the mule
inched softly away and left her to recover her balance at the risk of a
fall on the other side. We were too far for anything but the dumb show,
but there were, no doubt, words which conveyed her opinions unmistakably
to both man and mule. With our hearts in our mouths we witnessed the
scene and its repetitions till we could bear it no longer, and we had
bidden our cabman drive on when with a sudden spring the brave woman
launched herself semicircularly forward and descended upon the exact
spot which she had been aiming at. There solidly established on the
mule, with her arms fast round the man, she rode off; and I do not think
any reader of mine would like to have been that mule or that man for the
rest of the way home.
We met many other mules, much more exemplary, in teams of two, three,
and four, covered with bells and drawing every kind of carryall and
stage and omnibus.
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