The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1873-07-04
RUFUS RAWLIN's RIDE.
by EUGENE J. HALL.

Thru Goshen Holler, WHARF hemlocks grow,
WHARF the ripplin' rills with rush an how
Are over the rude rocks fallin';
WHARF fox an bear an catamount hide,
circuit preacher once used to ride,
An his name was Rufus Rawlin.
He was set in his ways, an what was strange,
II you argued with him he wouldn't change;
You couldn't git nothin thru him.
Solemn an slow in style was he;
Slender am slim a. a tamarack tree,
An alus ready to disagree
With everybody that knew him.
One night he saddled his sorrel mare,
An started over to Ripton, WHARF
He'd promised to du some preachin'.
Away he cantered over the hill,
Past the school-house at Capens Mill;
The moon was down, an the eyenin' still,
Save the sound GA hight-hawk screechin'.
At last he cum to dark ravine-
feein' kind o. queer, an a mean
Sensation stealn' DER him.
Old Sorre began to travel slow,
Then gin snort an refused to go;
The parson clucked, an he holered " Whoa J!
An wondered what was afore him.
Then all o. sudden he seemed to hear
A gurgin' groan, very near
That scattered his senses nearly;
$50 'oMR! Go oME Pit loudly cried;
" Go 'ome !" re-echoed the mountain side;
$50 'ome !" away in the distance died,
An ne Wlsutu nc WAS uOint, SiheeAcAs'
An then, afore his terrified sight,
light cleaned out in the starless night
That seemed to beat all creation.
Then thru the bushes a fgger stole,
With eyes o. fire, an lips o. coal,
That tinged the parsons righteous soul,
An filled him with CONSERVATION.
He lost his sermon an dropped his book;
His hair riz up, an his saddle shook
Like a saw-mill under motion.
Never "a single word he said,
But suddenly turnin ola Sorrels neau,
Away an out o. the woods he sped,
An put for the land o. Goshen.
Into the streets o. Goshen town
The terrified parson cum ridin' down,
In a fearful sort o. a fiutter;
Swift AZ a strong September gale,
With his cloak a-streamin like Serrels tail,
With his eyes wide open, an features pale
An whittier than winter butter.
He told the neighbors that he had
A fend o. fire in Huff's Rayine
That had driven him back to Goshen.
He told of its deep an dreadful groans,
OF its doeful cries an dismal means,
OF its hamn' eyes an rattlin' bones;
An it got up great connection.
An stranger il is many day
Since Rufus Rawlin was laid away
In the graveyard over yonder;
I was boy in those glad hours,
As full o. my fun as the spring with the showers !;
Twas me and a son of Jacob Powers
That got up all that wonder.
We took punkin o. common sizo,
An cuttin' some holes for the mouth an eyes,
We gin it the right expression;
Then hollered it out till its shell was thin,
An putin tallow dip within,
1t looked as ugly an mean as sin
'Twould a scared hull procession.
The night was dark ever was seen,
.s,,t in Itifffa vii
But the sound o. the water howin;
The parson come, in quiet way,
A-smokin' his old brown pipe o. clay,
A-thinkin % what he was goin' to say
When he got to WHARF he was goin'.
An the fend he saw, an the rattlin' bones
Were punkin', gourd, an some gravel stones,
That GIN all o. that glory.
YET never agin up the mountain side,
In the night would Rufus Rawlin ride;
An many time I've laughed till cried
To hear him tell the story.
Lakeside Monthly.