worse. The ghost of a
squatter might prove a less unpleasant neighbour than the squatter
himself, dispossessed of his _squatment_. Notwithstanding this
badinage, I know you will act with judgment; and you can count upon my
help in the matter, if you should require it." I grasped the speaker's
hand, to express my gratitude; and the tight pressure returned, told me
I was parting with one of the few friends I had in the world.

My _impedimenta_ had been already packed. They did not need much
stowage. A pair of saddle-bags was sufficient to contain all my
personal property--including the title-deeds of my freehold! My arms I
carried upon my person: my sword only being strapped along the saddle.
Bidding adieu to my friend, I mounted my noble Arab; and, heading him to
the road, commenced journeying towards the _Western Reserve_.

CHAPTER TEN.

A CLASSIC LAND.

Between Nashville and Swampville extends a distance of more than a
hundred miles--just three days' travel on horseback. For the first ten
miles--to Harpeth River--I found an excellent road, graded and
macadamised, running most of the way between fenced plantations. My
next point was _Paris_; and forty miles further on, I arrived in
_Dresden_! So far as the nomenclature was concerned, I might have
fancied myself travelling upon the continent of Europe. By going a
little to the right, I might have entered Asia: since I was told of
_Smyrna_ and _Troy_ being at no great distance in that direction; and by
proceeding in a south-westerly course, I should have passed through
_Denmark_, and landed at _Memphis_--certainly an extensive tour within
the short space of three days! Ugh! those ugly names! What
hedge-schoolmaster has scattered them so loosely and profusely over this
lovely land? Whip the wretch with rattlesnakes! Memphis indeed!--as if
Memphis with its monolithic statues needed commemoration on the banks of
the Mississippi! A new Osiris--a new Sphinx, "half horse, half
alligator, with a sprinkling of the snapping turtle." At every forking
of the roads, whenever I inquired my way, in my ears rang those classic
homonyms, till my soul was sick of sounds. "Swampville" was euphony,
and "Mud Creek" _soft_ music in comparison! Beyond Dresden, the titles
became more appropriate and much more rare. There were long stretches
having no names at all: for the simple reason, that there were no
_places_ to bear them. The numerous creeks, however, had been