The record-union., 1898-10-30
| BROTHER MILLIKIN'S
Low VOICE.

To the west Of North Pass, where
the valley road climbs up to meet the
ridge, road tall oak tree used to
stand 1nS daytime, all the year long,
its branches seemed to beckon the val
ley road to labor on over the rising
slopes; and by night except when the
nights We're darkest, the great mass of
Its foliage or its angular gaunt skele-
ton loomed up against the sky, shad-
owy landmark in the starlight, mys-
terry of black and silver when the moon
glided out above the hills.
Under this tree, Wiley Sides and his
friends often met on their way to and
from the pass and, in consequence, its
broad shadow came to be avoided by
| other wayfarers. Often the meetings
were prearranged, and the tree was a
starting point for some expedition, un-
dertaken more as horseplay than for
any serious purpose, but which would
keep the country talking for a week.
Often, however the session under the
tree came after the raid, when the men,
all tired at about the same time, col
| lapsed on the hospitable earth
| Sometimes they sang and shouted,
sometimes they fought. and sometimes
| they fell into such deep slumber that
next morning the passers saw them still
| lying there, with shifting sunshine and
shadow on their faces, as truStful and
unconscious as SO many forgotten nine
pins after a game Of bowls.
Considered in that way, Wiley was
| the most trustful man around the pass.
His voice was the loudest, also; and
| his daring went the greatest lengths.
There was no need to conjure up bug
a-boos to frighten the children with in
that region. The women on the scat
tered, lonely farms had only to go to
| the door and call, Come, Wiley" and
| the stanchest little rebel wilted into
| obedience; for all the children had
heard his cries and his pistol shots as
his horse went galloping past in the
black nights.
| The mothers had heard, too, and had
trembled, and some of them called
| Come, Wiley in low, half choking
voices, they were so afraid that he
might be somewhere near and come.
But the tall, strong, unprejudiced old
tree beckoned, Come, Wiley! Come,
| Wiley!' and never was afraid at any
| time
| Next to Wiley and his friends, the
| man who took most pleasure in the
| tree was Brother Millikin, the preacher;
but he enjoyed it for very different rea-
sons from those which led Wiley into
its shadow. Two or three times every
week he had to take the long ride to a
little settlement called Summit, where
he had second pastorate, and he often
hn to1 L. 20
while, and drew inspiration from it's
strong, unhampered uplift toward the
sky.
1t seemed an indignity that 1t should
always be associated with Wiley Sides.
and plan occurred to him for making
1t a rallying ground for very different
class of people from Wileys friends.
Standing, as it did, half way between
his two churches, it was an almost OBJ
vious place for union meetings in the
open air, and he announced such meet
ings to both congregations for Saturday
nights all summer long
The plan worked we'll. The people
| made evening picnics Of the meetings.
driving out in great numbers from both
villages; and, If the Sunday morning
| services suffered a little in consequence
Brother Millikin did not care; for. one
after another, Wiley's friends had
sauntered within range of his voice. and
! their attention had been caught and
held by what he had to say.
| No one without great personal mag
netism could have swayed their rough.
| iron-clad natures. and even Brother
Millikin, who had great magnetism.
could not make consistent converts of
them all, or entirely change their lives,
but he held their hearts In his hand.
and SO they could never wander very
far.
| Wiley was the only one of the gang
who had completely evaded and eluded
| MIN, giving the meetings a wide berth.
| 1T was even noticed that Wiley had
| become quite abstemious on Saturday
nights, for fear that some time, when
| MS ideas of locality were not quite
clear, his horse should fall into the
Old custom and carry him to the tree
| and stop. 1t was hard, though, for
him to bear anything in mind so reg
! ularly as once a week, and at last he
mad an inspiration for making every
day like every other, as days had al
ways been before. There should be
| no tree.
| To have cut the tree down would
nave required much labor, and that
was an insuperable objection from
Wiley's point of view; but, having no
scruples against letting months of slow
decline do his work for him, Wiley had
another plan. He dropped into neigh
oor's yard one night, when the neigh
Dor was not looking, helped himself to
an ak, rode away to the tree, and
hacked off the bark in a deep, narrow
blaze around the trunk, while above
him the leaves kept softly moving to
and fro and whispering, as If they
wondered what he was about.
When the girdle met around the tree
trunk, Wiley gave final slash, as if
TO 1asten 1t In place, and then droppej
the ak. If the owners Of the ak wanted
1t, he reasoned, they would find AS little
trouble In coming after it as he had
| found In taking it away, but an AK
which one had no further use for would
| be cumbersome to carry home.
After making a circuit around the
tree and smiling approvingly at his
work satisfaction and WEAKNESS over
| came him and he dropped down and
/ slept. 1t was long since he had la
bored even as severely as was neCes-
sary for the girdling of a tree. His
horse wandered off according to habit,
and browsed upon the wayside shrub
berry, dreaming, perhaps, Of a time
when the country would be less wild,
and there would be bluegrass along the
wayside, instead of only sassafras.
| Just as the moon was lifting jaded
face above the horizon, Brother Milli-
kin came riding along, humming a re-
vival hymn for the benefit of the black