Cherokee County GaArchives News.....Akin To All Cherokee February 11, 1887
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Meredith Clapper http://www.genrecords.net/emailregistry/vols/00012.html#0002801 January 13, 2022, 2:14 pm

The Cherokee Advance [Canton, Ga.]     11 Feb 1887 P 3 February 11, 1887
Akin To All Cherokee
Editor Advance: It is hard to write an open letter which will interest all the 
readers of any paper, for some like politics, some science, some agriculture, 
some poetry, and others fiction.
But I hope to interest not a few of THE ADVANCE’E (sic) readers when I tell them 
that I have been to see an old gentleman and lady who are either directly or 
indirectly related to a host of Canton and Cherokee’s best people.
In the extreme northern portion of Floyd county, between the ranges of two 
mountains running so nearly together as to form what the dwellers of that 
settlement call “The Pocket,” stands and (sic) old-fashioned, two-roomed log 
house, with the accustomed open hall between. 
A wire railway, with a bucket on wheels, runs down under the bluff, and brings 
back, from the bubbling spring, the cool mountain elixir of life. Three hundred 
and sixty acres of moderately fertile land surrounds-and belongs to-the inmates 
of this mountain home. But this is not where they always lived. 
Two miles this side of there, I am building a $500 parsonage, and as the old 
brother is a good Methodist, he has spent the last few weeks doing what he can 
in the erection of the building.
So, the other evening, our worthy brother said, “Bro. Speck, go up home with me 
to-night, and as you are from Cherokee, my wife can talk to you about the good 
people of that county, whom she used to know and love.” So I went.    
Supper presented to our whetted appetite-ham and eggs, coffee and biscuit-to 
which we did full justice.
After supper, a pine knot thrown into the fire, and general conversation began. 
The conversation was not in “Betsy Hamilton” dialect, but the subject ran much 
lik (sic) “Owl Hollow” topics. Thus the suggestion for writing on this subject. 
Sister Nancy Winn said to me: “You married Phillip Evans’ youngest daughter? I 
knew Phillip Evans when he was a young man—he married Martha Eveline Davis; they 
came from Jackson county. I was Nancy McConnell then—James McConnell’s daughter. 
My mother and Daniel Putnam were brother and sister. I’m a double cousin to Mrs. 
Mary Perkinson. I’m a niece of Mrs. Josh Roberts, and Misses Nannie and Jennie 
Hammond are my nieces—their mother was my sister. Your wife’s aunt Caroline was 
my mother’s first cousin. 
“I am a cousin of Bill Worley’s wife; her name is Martha. Joe McConnell married 
two of Dr. Payne’s sisters-Nancy and Elizabeth. I’ve heard Bob Cowart preach 
many a time—he married me and Mr. Winn. That’s long ago!”
Then she said, “Oh, this old reumatism (sic), it pesters me so.”
While she was getting her breath, Bro. John A. Winn put in and said, “Yes, my 
father moved from Jackson county in 1830. His name was Genubath. He was the 
first Methodist preacher that ever preached west of the Chattahoochee, and as he 
came to Floyd county he passed through where Rome now stands, and there wasn’t a 
stick of timber missing in that whole country then, and nothing like a house but 
one Indian hut at the junction of the rivers.
“Richard and Elisha, and Lem Winn were my cousins, and old Uncle Jimmy Jordan 
was my cousin, too. 
“We know all them people up there. Why, Phillip Evans helped to build many a 
fine house-and some not so fine-in Cherokee and Floyd-Wm. Price’s, Joe Price’s, 
Jas. McConnell’s, Maj. Wooley’s—and many churches, too.” And then he halted and 
said, “Oh, this old rheumatism.” 
While he was getting his breath I said: “Yes, you all are mighty nearly akin to 
all Cherokee and Cobb.”
Sister Nancy and Brother John A. Winn are mighty good people, I tell you! Old 
time folks, they live at home. They love to do good and recollect their kinfolks 
and the friends of their youth.
The fire burned low on the hearth, and the moon shone through the window, and 
the old family clock chimed out eleven, and I said: “What they haven’t told me, 
I’ll dream to-night, and write it to our kinfolks. Thus I have written.             
                  
J. R. S.   
   
 
 


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