I was at the time staying in Tennessee--the guest of a campaigning comrade and still older friend. He was grandson of that gallant leader, who, with a small band of only forty families, ventured three hundred miles through the heart of the "bloody ground" and founded Nashville upon the bold bluffs of an almost unknown river! From the lips of their descendants I had heard so many thrilling tales of adventures, experienced by this pioneer band, that Tennessee had become, in my fancy a region of romance. Other associations had led me to love this hospitable and chivalric state; and I resolved, that, within its boundaries, I should make my home. A visit to the Land-office of Nashville ended in my selection of Section Number 9, Township --, as my future plantation. It was represented to me as a fertile spot--situated in the "Western Reserve"--near the banks of the beautiful Obion, and not far above the confluence of this river with the Mississippi. The official believed there had been some "improvement" made upon the land by a _squatter_; but whether the squatter still lived upon it, he could not tell. "At all events, the fellow will be too poor to exercise the _pre-emption right_, and of course must move off." So spoke the land agent. This would answer admirably. Although my Texan experience had constituted me a tolerable woodsman, it had not made me a woodcutter; and the clearing of the squatter, however small it might be, would serve as a beginning. I congratulated myself on my good luck; and, without further parley, parted with my scrip--receiving in return the necessary documents, that constituted me the legal owner and lord of the soil of Section 9. The only additional information the agent could afford me was: that my new purchase was all "heavily timbered," with the exception before referred to; that the township in which it was situated was called Swampville; and that the section itself was known as "Holt's Clearing"--from the name, it was supposed, of the squatter who had made the "improvement." With this intelligence in my head, and the title-deeds in my pocket, I took leave of the friendly official; who, at parting, politely wished me "a pleasant time of it on my new plantation!" CHAPTER NINE. FRIENDLY ADVICE. On returning to the house of my friend, I informed him of my purchase; and was pleased to find that he approved of it. "You can't be taken in," said he, "by land upon the Obion. From what I have heard of it, it is one of the most fertile spots in Tennessee. Moreover, as you are fond of hunting, you'll find game in abundance. The black bear, and even the panther--or `painter,' as our backwoodsmen have it--are still common in the Obion bottom; and indeed, all throughout the forests of the Reserve." "I'm rejoiced to hear it." "No doubt," continued my friend, with a smile, "you may shoot deer from your own door; or trap wolves and wild-cats at the entrance to your hen-roost." "Good!"