“Jes’ think ub dat chile callin’ me uncle. I’s gwine ter teck him fishinin’ ev’y day wid me, an’ sorf crabbin’, too, when I gits dis boat fix’. He is de ve’y spit ub Ole Mars. Well, young Marster, I wo’ uh gray nuniform, an’ rode de bes’ mule in de Souf, name Pigeon. Some wha erboutin Chrismus, 1862, close ter Lexington, Tenn., uh gre’t big kunnel s’rendered ter Mars Bedford. He wuz almos’ skeered stiff, trem’lin’ like uh aspine leaf, but when Mars Bedford say, smilin’, ‘You fellows didn’ meck much ub uh fight,’ it gib dat kunnel condidence, an’ rite ’way he look peart an’ say, ‘Gen’l, won’ you please exchange me soon?’ An’ Mars Bedford say, ‘Yas; go an’ git me de bes’ mule in yo’ cumman’, an’ I’ll exchange you fuh de mule.’ Dat’s how I got Pigeon. Befo’ dat I had uh wufless, lazy hoss, an’ Mars Bedford wanted ev’ything lively ’roun’ him. Den ergin, I carried uh coffeepot, jes’ big ’nuff fuh _me_ and Mars Bedford, sugah, coffee, hard-tack, blackin’, blackin’ brush, soap an’ towels, an’ sich like. De Gen’l tied strings ’roun’ de bottoms ub uh heavy par ub canvas pants, an’ I stuffed deah legs full, tell dey jes’ strut out; den I put dem straddle Pigeon’s back an’ tied ’em ter de saddle so ef’n de amblabus wuz behin’ I had ’nuff perwissions fuh Mars Bedford an’ me tell de amblabus cum up. Pigeon, she al’ays kep’ up. De mammy ub dat mule mus’ uh bin uh thurrybred, she wuz al’ays peart an’ fresh; de fac’ is, da wan’ much jackass erbout huh; she nebber blowed huh trumpet ’ceppin she horngry. When I got ev’ything on meh ahmy saddle, front an’ back, de pack wuz erbout up ter meh shoulders when I sot in de saddle, but den ergin, it didn’ pester me, kase I wuz almos’ settin’ in uh bungproof.