Our Scene Lies In the Upper Part Of the State Of georgia, A Region At
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.