baptised;
and evidently by the backwoodsmen themselves, as the titles indicated.
"Deer Creek" and "Mud"--"Coon" and "Cat"--"Big" and "Little Forky"--told
that the pioneers, who first explored the hydrographic system of the
Western Reserve, were not heavily laden with classic lore; and a pity it
is that pedantry should be permitted to alter the simple, but expressive
and appropriate, appellatives by them bestowed. Unfortunately, the
system is followed up to this hour by the Fremonts and other
pseudo-explorers of the farthest west. The soft and harmonious sound of
Indian and Spanish nomenclature--as well as the more striking titles
bestowed by the trappers--are rapidly being obliterated from the maps;
their places to be supplied--at the instigation of a fulsome flattery--
by the often vulgar names of demagogic leaders, or the influential heads
of the employing _bureau_.

"I know the old general will be pleased--perhaps reciprocate the
compliment in his next despatch--if I call this beautiful river
`Smith.'"

"How the secretary will smile, when he sees his name immortalised upon
my map, by a lake never to be dried up, and which hereafter is to be
known by the elegant and appropriate appellation of `Jones!'" Under
just such influence are these absurd titles bestowed; and the
consequence is, that amid the romantic defiles of the Rocky Mountains,
we have our ears jarred by a jumble of petty and most inappropriate
names--Smiths, Joneses, Jameses, and the like--while, from the sublime
peaks of the Cascade range, we have "Adams," "Jackson," "Jefferson,"
"Madison," and "Washington," overlooking the limitless waters of the
Pacific. This last series we could excuse. The possession of high
qualities, or the achievement of great deeds, ennobles even a common
name; and all these have been stamped with the true patent. In the
associated thoughts that cling around them, we take no note of the
sound--whether it be harsh or harmonious. But that is another question,
and must not hinder us from entering our protest against the
nomenclature of Smith, Jones, and Robinson!

Beyond Dresden, my road could no longer be termed a road. It was a mere
trace, or lane, cut out in the forest--with here and there a tree
"blazed," to indicate the direction. As I neared the point of my
destination, I became naturally curious to learn something about it--
that is, about Swampville--since it was evident that this was to be the
_point d'appui_ of