ung man in the country when he came back from the Home War."

The Civil War having been ended for some two years and the young private
of the Logan Wildcats having been tamed, he became converted to
religion. Thereupon he began to preach the Gospel.

But never in all the years of his ministry from 1867 to 1938, when
failing health took him from the pulpit, did Uncle Dyke Garrett receive
a penny for preaching. He never had a salary. William Dyke Garrett got
his living from the rugged little hillside farm that he tended with his
own hands.

"Before I was converted to religion," he said, straightening in his
chair, "I played the fiddle and many a time went to square dances. But
once I got the Spirit in here,"--placing a wrinkled hand upon his
breast--"I gave up frolic tunes and played only religious music. There
are other ways for folks to get together and enjoy themselves without
dancing. Now there's the Big Meeting! Every year on the first Sunday of
September folks come from far and near here to Big Creek and bring their
basket dinner."

"Dyke started it many a year ago," Aunt Sallie interposed with prideful
glance at her mate.

Again he took up the story. "After we've spread our basket dinner out on
the grass all under the trees we have hymn-singing and--"

"Dyke reads from the Scripture and preaches a spell." Aunt Sallie meant
that nothing should be left out. Nor did the old man chide her.

"Many a one has been converted at the Big Meeting"--his eyes
glowed--"and nothing will stop it but the end of time. They'll have the
Big Meeting every year long after I'm gone. I'm certain of that."

Presently his thoughts looped back to his wedding to Sallie Smith. "Our
infare-wedding lasted three days. The first day at Sallie's, the second
day at Pa's house, and the third right here in our own home. That was
the way in those times. And I got so gleeful I fiddled and danced at the
same time! That'll be seventy-one year come February of the year
nineteen thirty-seven." Slowly he rolled his thumbs one around the
other, then he stroked his long beard, eyes turned inward upon his
thoughts. "Well, sir, if I should get married one hundred times I'd
marry Miss Sallie Smith every time. We've traveled a long way together
and we've had but few harsh words."

His mate lifted faded eyes to his. "Dyke, it was generally my fault,"
she said contritely, "but I was bound to scold when you'd get careless
about your own self. I vow," the li