Sunday School dar nearly ever since I can 'member. You know dey say
dat's de oldest Nigger church in de country. At fust a white man come
from Savannah and de church wuz built for his family and dey slaves.
Later dere wuz so many colored members de white folks come out and built
another house so de niggers could have de old one. When dat ole church
wuz tore down, de colored folks worshipped for a long time in a goat
house and den in a brush arbor.

"Some folks calls it de Dead River Church 'cause it used to be near Dead
River and de baptisin' wuz done dar for a long time. I wuz baptised dar
myself and I loves de old spot of ground. I has tried to be a good
church member all my life but it's hard fer me to get a nickel or a dime
for preacher money now."

When asked if people in the old days got married by jumping over a broom
she made a chuckling sound and replied: "No, us had de preacher but us
didn't have to buy no license and I can't see no sense in buyin' a
license nohow, 'cause when dey gits ready to quit, dey just quits."

Liza brought an old Bible from the other room in which she said she kept
the history of the old church. There were also pictures from some of her
"white folks" who had moved to North Carolina. "My husband has been daid
for 40 years," she asserted, "and I hasn't a chile to my name, nobody to
move nothin' when I lays it down and nobody to pick nothin' up. I gets
along pretty well most of de time though, but I wishes I could work so I
would feel more independent."

District Two
EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW

AUNT HARRIET MILLER
Toccoa, Georgia
(Stephens County)

Written By:
Mrs. Annie Lee Newton
Research Worker
Federal Writers' Project
Athens, Georgia

Edited By:
John N. Booth
Asst. District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Athens, Georgia

July 15, 1937

Aunt Harriet Miller, a chipper and spry Indian Half-breed, thinks she is
about 100 years old. It is remarkable that one so old should possess so
much energy and animation. She is tall and spare, with wrinkled face,
bright eyes, a kindly expression, and she wears her iron grey hair wound
in a knob in the manner of a past generation. Aunt Harriet was neatly
dressed as she had just returned from a trip to Cornelia to see some of
her folks. She did not appear at all tired from the trip, and seemed
glad to discuss the old days.

"My father," said Aunt Harriet, "was a Cherokee Indian named Green
Norris, and my mother was a white woma