130 Sallie Russell 



ing his life in prison, Sally was wearing hers away 

 before a heavy wagon, Helen was mourning at 

 home, and the cruel war was ruthlessly continued. 



If any state of existence can be hopelessly 

 wretched, it must be that of an army mule. Imag- 

 ine, then, the state of a gentle, high-bred horse, de- 

 signed by nature and training for lightness and speed, 

 attached by rough harness to a jolting wagon, and 

 wasting away her life before heavy loads. Sallie had 

 always been carefully groomed ; now she was never 

 touched with a brush. Occasionally the teamster 

 would roughly brush away, with a handful of straw, 

 some mud which had been accumulating for a week 

 or more. She had always received the best of food; 

 now she was scantily and poorly fed. The tender 

 skin on her neck and shoulders was worn away under 

 the strain of the huge collar, and the raw and sensi- 

 tive flesh was forced to bear the weight of the heavily 

 loaded wagon. Sallie always did her best conscien- 

 tiously, and she tried hard to make a beast of burden 

 of herself. But she could not pull the loads as well 

 as a stolid mule that had always been used to such 

 toil. And so the teamster saluted her ears with 



