I 
80 
THE RURAL HEW-YORSCER. 
FES S 
THE DRUM LAKE EASTER SERVICE. 
A story of the Michigan Pine Woods. 
BY HERBERT W. COLLINGWOOD. 
Copyrighted by the Rural New-Yorker. 
(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) 
T HIS was even so. Messrs. Brown and 
Jensen, having experienced some 
little difficulty in perfectly adjusting their 
private affairs, had decided to settle 
the difference in a fistic encounter. 
They had wisely selected Bryan’s Mill 
as the place, and Saturday night before 
Easter, as the time. Tney had invited a few 
of their personal friends to witness the affair 
of honor, and were even now knocking imagi¬ 
nary chips from each other’s shoulders. 
This was a regular windfall of good luck 
for Jim and Beu. They decided to make the 
most of it, so they hurried back to the mill to 
look the ground over. They crept along the 
side of the building, and looked in through 
the cobwebbed windows. 
I will venture to say that the great brown 
rafters that had held up the mill roof from its 
earliest history, had never looked down upon 
such a scene before. In one corner, where a 
cleared space in the piles of boards offered 
standing-room, the two young men whose 
bruised honor needed healing, were gazing de¬ 
fiantly at each other. Three lanterns black¬ 
ened and smoky, hung from nails driven in 
the walls,throwing a greasy light over the bat 
tie ground. 
Back on the dusty piles of lumber, the 
friends of the champions sat watching the 
affair with far more interest than the con- 
t< stants themselves showed. Behind the au¬ 
dience the feeble light lost itself in the black¬ 
ness of the mill. Here and there, some pieces 
of ancient machinery seemed to stand out 
from the shadow in angry protest against 
the unwonted invasion. Great rusty saws 
that had torn many a noble tree in pieces— 
yes, and shrieked with delight while doing 
it—now glared savagely at the youthful pugi¬ 
lists. 
The battle had not become very exciting 
when Jim and Ben peered in at the window. 
Blood enough had not been shed to justify a 
call from the Drum Lake police force. 
Messrs. Brown and Jensen were but follow¬ 
ing a well-establisned rule in their encounter. 
They spent so much time in preliminary ar¬ 
rangements, that now that the battle was 
really joined, they seamed hardly to realize it. 
The first blow in such an encounter is re¬ 
garded by many persons as an immense ad¬ 
vantage. Each of the combatants, with a 
gallantry worthy of the Middle Ages, re¬ 
peatedly invited his antagonist to take this 
advantage. Mr. Brown even went so far as 
to place a small chip upon his shoulder, and 
request Mr. Jensen to knock it away. Now 
Mr. Jensen could easily have reached this piece 
of wood, and he certainly possessed strength 
enough to knock it away, but yet he did not 
do so. Not to be outdone in politeness, be 
placed a chip of wood of even more conveni¬ 
ent size upon his own shoulder, and requested 
Mr Brown to knock it away. When Jim and 
Ben looked in through the window, neither of 
the chips had reached the ground. 
Both of the choir-hunters would gladly 
have stayed to witness the fight, but the 
thought of the waiting company at Cobb’s 
drove such an idea from their minds. Jim, 
as manager of the expedition, made his plans 
for the attack as quickly as possible. He ex¬ 
amined the audience on the lumber pile, and 
then whispered his directions to Ben. 
“They is four boys in there that we kin git 
easy. They’ll do the job in big shape. We’ll 
crawl in the back door an’ talk it over with 
’em; but ef they run, jest coller any two an’ 
hang onter’ ’em. 
Ben understood these directions, and the 
two men crept round to the back of the mill, 
and crawled in a most undignified manner 
through a hole in the wall. If they could 
only have reached the lighted space all would 
have been well, and Jim could have picked 
out his choir. But Beu, in his great anxiety 
to do his duty, and at the same time watch the 
progress of the fight, grew careless, and 
knocked over a huge pile of boards that lay in 
his path, which fell with a mighty crash 
that gathered volume as it swept through the 
mill. The angry saws clashed and rattled 
together as if to help swell the sound. 
The noise fell with disastrous effect upon 
the ears of the audience on the lumber-pile, 
and the assembly vanished like a flash, every 
boy running for dear life, as if confident that 
the very fiends were after him. 
By thus running, the audience lost the only 
real business part of the evening’s entertain¬ 
ment. Emboldened by the noise or else be¬ 
wildered by the loss of his audience, Mr. 
Jensen reached for the chip with such good 
aim that his fist ran directly against Mr. 
Brown’s nose. Not to be outdone at this sort 
of thing, Mr. Brown sent his fist against Mr. 
Jensen’s eye, and the ice being thus broken, 
they went at each other with great vigor. 
At the first sound of the falling boards, Jim 
shouted “coller ’em, Ben, coller’em!” and Mr. 
Stone at once started in wild chase after the 
audience, as if wishing to make amends for 
his carelessness. Jim leaped over the lumber 
and caught the two whose honor was being so 
rapidly vindicated. He pulled them apart, 
and held them by their collars at arm’s length 
on either side of him. 
“How goes it,Ben?” he shouted. “Hev ye gut 
’em 8 ” 
“Wall, I ain’t gut nothin’ else,” came the 
answer from somewhere far in the depths of 
the mill. In a very short time, Mr. Stone 
came clambering over the lumber pile with 
two more enforced candidates for the choir. 
The quartette did not present a very prom¬ 
ising appearance when brought into the light. 
I am forced to confess, that I, even with my 
slight knowledge of music, would have con¬ 
sidered the prospect as decidedly dubious. 
Mr. Jensen’s rapidly swelling eye and Mr. 
Brown’s bleeding nose would be likely to neu¬ 
tralize any good effect the other members of 
the choir might introduce. 
One of Mr. Stone’s candidates evidently 
took his forcible nomination considerably to 
heart. “ Lemme go,” he whined, “ I’ll tell 
my father.” 
“Now, young fellers,” said Jim in a tone of 
authority, “I’ve gut a job for ye. We’re 
goin’ over ter the Parson’s an’ yer go’nter be 
singers ter the next half an hour. Do jest ez 
I tell yer, an’ I’ll treat ye, when we git through, 
but ef ye whine, I’ll boot ye ” And he start¬ 
ed the procession with Mr. Brown and Mr. 
Jensen on either side of him. 
Mr. Stone followed with his candidates, 
and leaving the lanterns hanging on the wall 
to smoke themselves out in sorrow at the loss 
of the fight, the new musical organization 
moved in good order to the “Continental 
Hotel.” 
The choir marched directly into Mrs. 
McKelvey’s kitchen, Jim an I Ben relaxing 
their holds on the collars of the singers, 
though they kept a close watch upon them. 
The minister had not moved, apparently, 
from his seat near the stove. Mr. McKelvey 
had finished his potatoes, and was now engag¬ 
ed in slicing a large piece of pork. Mrs. 
McKelvey sat in the low rocking chair, try 
to induce the baby to go to sleep. 
“Wall, Parson, here’s yer singers,” an¬ 
nounced Jim, bringing his recruits up to the 
front, and placing himself near the door to 
cover any dash for liberty. 
The Rev. Grayling felt his heart sink with¬ 
in him as he gazed upon the motley company. 
The choir did not improve in appearauce 
when brought into the stronger light of Mrs. 
McKelvey’s lamps. 
Jensen’s eye was well swollen by this time, 
and Brown’s face, despite his frequent appli¬ 
cation of his coat-sleeve, presented a most 
blood stained appearance. One of the Stone 
candidates had evidently started for the con¬ 
test with a coat very much like the one worn 
by the minister. But during his frantic 
efforts to escape, the skirts of his garment, 
had by some accident, been torn away. As 
Ben afterwards confessed he “ ketched him 
by the coat-fiap3, and beared somethin’ give.” 
By reason of this curtailment, there was now 
exposed to view a patch of such extraordinary 
shape and size, that it seemed to reverse the 
regular order of things, and push its owner 
forward instead of permitting him to carry 
it. 
“Ye can’t tell nothin’ about ’em frum their 
looks,” said Jim, seeing the look of dismay on 
the minister’s face. “ Jest let ’em tune onct. 
When I gives the word, sing or ye’ll know 
what ye’ll ketch.” It is needless to say that the 
latter part of this speech was addressed to the 
choir. 
But Mrs. McKelvey at once vetoed this 
proposition, and the veto was most emphati¬ 
cally sustained by her husband. No doubt 
the new choir could render most delightful 
mu-ic, but her baby must go to sleep. 
“ Wall, Parson,” said Jim, “ thar’s yer sing¬ 
ers, an’ I’ll warrant ’em to do a good clean 
job, or ye needn’t pay ’em a cent We’ve 
done our part an’ now jest shoulder yer fiddle, 
an’ we ll show ye the way down ter Cobb’s 
store.” 
The minister felt that the fates were surely 
against him. He had given his word, and 
could not break it, so he explained matters to 
the choir as best he could. 
“ My dear young friends, I am truly sorry 
that I am to be deprived of the great pleasure 
of hearing you sing this evening, but if you 
will call here an hour before church time to¬ 
morrow, we can doubtless arrange our music. 
You are acquainted with our usual Church 
service,I presume?” 
Neither of the musicians seemed able to 
answer this leading question, so Jim spoke for 
them. “Yes, they be, Parson, I’ve heered 
’em run it off a dozen times.” 
Mrs. McKelvey was very anxious to bring 
the rehearsal to a close. The baby was rest¬ 
less and excited at the sight of so many 
strange faces. “Wall, Parson,” she said, 
“ ’adn’t ’e better go an’ git the fiddlin’ done? 
We’ll set up for ’e.” 
There was no help after this, and the minis¬ 
ter rose with a sigh, and went in search of his 
melancholy hat. 
“Nowyou fellers, clear out!” ordered Mrs. 
McKelvey when the door closed behind the 
minister. The members of the choir were 
only too ready to obey this command. Their 
exit was not characterized by that dignity that 
members of their profession should strive 
to maintain. Once on the outside, the organ¬ 
ization dissolved never to be brought together 
again. Whether the singers went back to 
decide the contest or not, we cannot say. It 
is certain that the minister never saw them 
again. 
“ Now, Jim,” Mrs. McKelvey urged, “ I 
want you to look h’arter Parson, an’ see ’im 
well used. ’E’s a little man, an’ don't h’un- 
derstand the boys.” 
“I’ll stay right by him, mum” promised 
Jim, “ an’ keep him right up ter the front.” 
(TO BE CONTINUED.) 
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|3F“ Mention This Paper. 
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