Any Deadly Thing

The music of the git-fiddle thrummed through the hot Georgia night, setting nerves to throbbing in the little town of Euharlee. In the harsh, yellow light of a lantern, youthful Gordon Miller cried aloud: "I ain't had this power but about a month now. But I got the power now--I got the 'nointing!" From the box beside him came the whirring buzz of a rattlesnake. Cried Miller: "The word of God says: 'In my name . . . they shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them.' "

He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and looked out over the crowd in the brush arbor. "I feel the power acomin' on. Thank you, Jesus, I feel the 'nointing!" He plunged his hands into the box and brought out two giant rattlers. A woman near him screamed, "Thank you, Jesus," and became rigid. A young girl cried out, "Hit's the power," and began shouting unintelligibly. Women moaned and reeled. In the hot night, the guitars thrummed on.

That was a year ago, and Miller's fame spread through the Georgia backcountry. Last fortnight he got up another shout in Summerville, a county seat in the northwest corner of the state. It started just before sundown, and by 10:30 the moaning and shouting and singing were going strong. Then Preacher Miller brought out the "salvation cocktail." He shouted: "Brother Davis, do you believe in the power of the Lord great enough to take what's in this bottle?" Farmer Ernest Davis, 34, grabbed the glass, took several gulps.

Five days later, Farmer Davis died of strychnine poisoning. As he was buried last week, his wife, standing beside the grave, said: "Ernest just had too much faith."

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