this time fruitful of dispute, as being within the Cherokee territories.
The route to which we now address our attention, lies at nearly equal
distances between the main trunk of the Chatahoochie and that branch of
it which bears the name of the Chestatee, after a once formidable, but
now almost forgotten tribe. Here, the wayfarer finds himself lost in a
long reach of comparatively barren lands. The scene is kept from
monotony, however, by the undulations of the earth, and by frequent
hills which sometimes aspire to a more elevated title. The tract is
garnished with a stunted growth, a dreary and seemingly half-withered
shrubbery, broken occasionally by clumps of slender pines that raise
their green tops abruptly, and as if out of place, against the sky.

The entire aspect of the scene, if not absolutely blasted, wears at
least a gloomy and discouraging expression, which saddens the soul of
the most careless spectator. The ragged ranges of forest, almost
untrodden by civilized man, the thin and feeble undergrowth, the
unbroken silence, the birdless thickets,--all seem to indicate a
peculiarly sterile destiny. One thinks, as he presses forward, that some
gloomy Fate finds harbor in the place. All around, far as the eye may
see, it looks in vain for relief in variety. There still stretch the
dreary wastes, the dull woods, the long sandy tracts, and the rude hills
that send out no voices, and hang out no lights for the encouragement of
the civilized man. Such is the prospect that meets the sad and searching
eyes of the wayfarer, as they dart on every side seeking in vain for
solace.

Yet, though thus barren upon the surface to the eye, the dreary region
in which we now find ourselves, is very far from wanting in resources,
such as not only woo the eyes, but win the very soul of civilization. We
are upon the very threshold of the gold country, so famous for its