The writer is only trying to pen a brief picture of the field as it presents itself to the missionary. No man can give a full description of the wide privilege that is open to the minister in these places where the lumberjacks congregate. He is required to perform varying duties whether they are related to the minister's calling or not. Often, in the regular ministrations, elements are introduced that suggest the burlesque rather than the solemn services common to the ministry, as the following incident will illustrate: It was the last day of the drive and the riverpigs were coming into town after their labors on the lakes and rivers. The town was reaping its harvest--at least the saloons and other evils were. As the Rev. Frank E. Higgins walked the street, he was approached by a drunken riverpig. "Say, Pilot," he began, "one of our crew fell off a log, pulled the hole in after him and is at the coffin shop ready for the boneyard. We uns want him planted like a decent Christian; he wa'n't no squaw man or Indian. See to the trimmings, will you? Do the job up right if you have to buy out every wannigan in town. Are you on, Pilot? When you're ready call for us at Blank's saloon, for we want to go with you to Jim's bunking place." The driver left him and entered Blank's saloon to report progress to the boys and the minister proceeded to the undertaker's establishment to make the necessary arrangements for the funeral. He ordered a plain pine coffin, and after procuring a dray for a hearse, drove up to Blank's saloon for the boys. Out on the sidewalk the riverpigs came noisily, but when they saw the dray with its burden they stopped abruptly. "It won't go, Pilot," said the one who had made the arrangements. "This is no jack-pine farmer's funeral; we're no cheap skates. This camp's got money and intends to blow it. See? Give us a run for our money." Then another rum-soaked riverpig spoke up: "If this was a tin-horn gambler or a bloated saloon-keeper they'd have a hearse and a brass band. Jim's only a riverpig, but he's got to be planted with the frills just the same." "Get a decent box and hearse and call again, Pilot," they shouted as they backed into the saloon to "keep their hides from cracking." The funeral procession had a more imposing appearance when it drew up a second time at Blank's saloon. A hearse led the procession and six carriages completed the cortege. By this time the mourners were in a state of intoxication, in which feelings of the sublime and the ridiculous blend without effort. "This is the way to do it," cried one of the riverpigs as he viewed the hearse and carriages. "Wouldn't Jim be tickled to death if he saw this show and knew that he was the whole blank thing?" "Say, Pilot," said one whom Mr. Higgins was helping into a carriage, "when we meet Jim later he'll say, 'I'm proud of the way you fellows rid me out of town.'"