Benefits Forgot | Page 6

door, watched the two ride off together
with a thrill of pride. Jason was almost as tall in the saddle as his father.
He had shot up amazingly of late. The minister was getting very gray.
He had been late in his thirties when he married. But he sat a horse as
though bred to the saddle and Old Charley was a beauty. Brother
Wilkins was very fond of horses and was a good judge of horse flesh.
Sometimes Mrs. Wilkins had thought, that if Ethan had not chosen to
be a Methodist minister he would have made a first-class country
squire.
She watched the two out of sight down the valley road, then with a
little sigh turned back to the empty home.

Jason, though always a little self-conscious when alone with his father,
was delighted with the idea of the trip. They crossed the Ohio on the
ferry and rode rapidly into the West Virginia hills. The minister made a
great effort to be entertaining and Jason was astonished at his father's
intimate knowledge of the countryside.
"I don't see how you remember all the places, father," he said at noon,
when the minister had turned to a side road to find a farmer whom he
wished to greet.
"I had this circuit years ago before you were born, my boy. I know the
people intimately."
"Don't you get tired of it?" asked Jason, suddenly.
"Tired of saving souls?" returned his father. "Do you think you'll ever
get tired of saving bodies?"
"O that's different," answered the boy. "You've got something to take
hold of, with a body."
"And the body ceases to exist when the soul departs. Never forget that,
my boy."
"But you work so hard," insisted Jason, "and you get so little for it. I
don't mean money alone," flushing as if at some memory, "but it
doesn't seem as if the people care. They'll take all they can get out of
each minister as he comes along, and then forget him."
Brother Wilkins looked at Jason, thoughtfully. "Sixteen is very young,
Jason. I'm afraid you were born carnal minded. I pray every night of
my life that as you grow older, you'll grow toward Christ and not away
from Him."
Again Jason flushed uncomfortably and a silence fell that lasted until
they reached the remote hill settlement where service was to be held
that night. The settlement consisted of a log church, surrounded by a
scattered handful of log houses, each already with its tiny glow of light,

for night comes early in the hills. The two had eaten a cold lunch in the
saddles, for church service would begin as soon as they arrived.
There were twenty-five or thirty people in the rough little church. They
crowded round Brother Wilkins enthusiastically when he entered and
he called them all by name as he shook hands with them. Jason slid into
a back seat. His father mounted to the pulpit.
"Let us open by singing
'How tedious and tasteless the hours When Jesus no longer I see--'"
The old familiar tune! Jason wondered how many meetings his father
had opened with it. The audience sang it with a will. In fact with too
much will. A group of young men on the rear seat opposite Jason sang
with unnecessary fervor, quite drowning out the female voices in the
congregation. Jason saw his father, his face heavily shadowed in the
candle-light, glance askance at the rear seat.
"Let us pray," said Brother Wilkins. There was a rustle as the
congregation knelt. "O God, I have come to You again in this mountain
place after many years and many wanderings. I thank You for giving
me this privilege. I have greeted old friends who have not forgotten me
and who all these years have remembered You and Christ, Your only
begotten Son. Tonight, O Heavenly Father, I have brought with me to
this sacred fold my own one lamb that he might see how sacred and
how great is Your power. Look on him tonight, O Supreme Master, and
mark him for Your own. And remember, that if the young men in the
rear seat plan any disturbance tonight, O Heavenly Father, that the arm
of Thy priest is strong and the soul of Thy servant is resolute. For Jesus
Christ's sake, Amen."
The boom of "Amens" from the back seat was tremendous. Brother
Wilkins, rising after his prayer, looked at the four young men for a long
moment, over his glasses. Then he said:
"Let us sing

'From Greenland's icy mountains To India's coral strands.'"
This was sung with tremendous vim, and the minister began his sermon.
Jason's father was a good preacher. His vocabulary was rich and his
ideas those of a thinking man whose religion was