A farmyard of six outbuildings abutted upon the
church burial ground, and it was but natural that all the fowls should
stray into it to feed and enjoy themselves in the grass. Amongst these
was a goodly flock of guinea-fowls, which oftentimes no little disturbed
the congregation by their peculiar cry of "Come back! come back! come
back!" One Sunday the climax of annoyance was reached when the whole
flock gathered around the west door just as my father was beginning to
read the first lesson. His voice, never at any time very strong, was
completely drowned. Whereupon old Russell hastily left his seat, book in
hand, and clattering as usual on his heels down the aisle disappeared
through the door on vengeance bent. The discomfiture of the offending
fowls was instantly apparent by the change in their cry to one more
piercing still as they fled away in terror. Then all was still, and
back comes old Russell, a gleam of triumph on his face and somewhat out
of breath, but nevertheless able without much difficulty to take up the
responses in the canticle which followed the lesson. Scarcely, however,
had the congregation resumed their seats for the reading of the second
lesson when the offending flock again gathered round the west door, and
again, as if in defiant derision of Russell, raised their mocking cry of
"Come back! come back! come back!" And back accordingly he went clatter,
clatter down the aisle, a stern resolution flashing from his eye, and
causing the little boys as he passed to quail before him.
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