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<DIV>Joab Powell was at that Camp Meeting. He thought himself quite a singer,
maybe he was. I thought so anyway. He had a big, big voice that fairly made the
woods echo. One of his favorite songs was "I yield, I yield, I can hold out no
more to the pleadings of Mercy etc." He sang through his nose and I thought he
said: "ienal, ienal," etc. and I could not find out what it meant. He sang
another that went something like this: "Escape for life, with horror then my
vitals froze." I thought he said: "Scrape for life, with horror then my victuap
forze." I sang it with him as loudly as I could till Mother heard me and made me
stop.I remember going to one Camp Meeting. Uncle Abram Garrison was the
preacher. In those days, preachers were nearly always very poor, few of them had
even a home, though land was to be had for the staking of it, and material for a
cabin grew on the land, itself. Everybody was willing and glad to come to a
"house raising" and there would be a home quite as good as anyone else had. But
most of the preachers traveled about from settlement to settlement and stayed
wherever night overtook them. That was not true of Uncle Abram, he was a farmer
and an unusually thrifty one.</DIV>
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<DIV><FONT lang=0 face=Arial size=2 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" PTSIZE="10"><B>Walt
Davies<BR>Cooper Hollow Farm<BR>Monmouth, OR 97361<BR>503 623-0460 <BR></B><IMG SRC="cid:X.MA1.1101240886@aol.com" height=93 width=72 border=0 DATASIZE="2892" ID="MA1.1101240886" ></FONT></DIV></FONT></BODY></HTML>