The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1875-08-31
VOL. XII.
Rufus Rawlin's Ride.
ny EUGENE =. HALL.


Thru Goshen Holler, WHARF hemlocks grow,
WHARF tho ripplin' rills with rush an flow
Ar over the rude rocks fallin';
WHARF, fox an bear an catamount hide
In Their holes an caves in the mountain side
circuit preacher once used to ride,
An his name was hufus Rawlin.
He was set in his ways, an what was strange,
If you argued with him he wouldn't change,
You couldn't get nothin' thru him.
Solemn an slow in style was he,
Slender an slim as tamarack tree,
An allus ready tn disagree
With everybody that knew him,
One night he saddled his sorrel mare
An started over tu Ripton, WHARF
He'd promised tn du some preachin'.
Away he cantered over the hill,
Past the school house at Capens Mill;
The moon was down, an the evenn' still,
Save the night hawk screechin'.
At last he came tu dark ravine-
A feelin' kind o queer, an mean
Sensation stealin' Ger him.
Old Sorrel began tn travel slow,
Then Civ a snort an refused tn go;
The parson clucked, an he wouldn't "whoa''
An wondered what was afore him,
Then. all OF a sudden, he seemed tn hear
gurglin' groan, SO very near
That it scattered his senses, nearly;
"Go 'omel 60 'omew it loudly cried
"Go 'omel" re-echoed the mountain side;
Go 'ome," away in the distance died,
An he wished he was home sincerely.
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 tnglod the parsons righteous soul
An filled bin 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' old Sorrel's head,
Away an out o the woods he sped,
An' put for tho land O. doshen.
Inlu the streets o Goshen town
The terrified parson cum ridin' down,
In fearful sort of iutter;
swift as a strong September gale,
With his coat II streamin' like Soriel's tail,
With his eyes wide open an features pale
An whittier than winter butter
A fend o fire in IIuiI's Ravine
That had driven him back tn Goshen
He told of its deep an dreadful groans
Of t7 doleiul cries an dismal moans
Of its ilamin' eyes an rattlin' bones;
An it got up great commotiou.
An stranger, it is many day
Since Rufus Rawlin was laid away
In the graveyard over yonder
! was a boy in those glad hours,
As full o fun as the spring with showers;
Twas me an son o Jacob Powers
That got up all that wonder
We took punkin % common size
An cuttin some holes for the mouth an eyes,
We gin it the right expressions
Then hollered it out till its shell was thin,
An putin taller dip within,
1t looked as ugly and mean as sin
'Tw0uld a scared hull procession.
The night was dark as ever was seen
An nothn' was heered in IIuf's Rayine
But the sound o the waters howin';
The parson cum in quiet way
smokin' his old brown pipe o clay,
A thinkin' o what he was goin to say
When he got to WHARF he was gon'.
An the fend he gaw, an the rattlin' boncs
Were pumkin' "a gourd and some gravel stones
That gin him all o that glory.
Yet, never ag'in up the mountain side,
II the night would Rufus Rawlin ride;
Tu hear him tell the story.