  Smyrna is a capital starting point for eastern expeditions, though it is too full of gaÓors, of every description, to be, in itself, a fair specimen of orientalism. The man would carry home a queer account of Turkey who should begin his notes at Smyrna, and, passing up the Dardanelles, make up his book as he travelled overland from Constantinople to Jannina, en route to Tower Stairs. This is the approved track, or, perhaps, it may be up the Danube in the Austrian steamer. Such an expedition is capital fun, no doubt, and to be recommended to any of our friends with a little loose cash, and some six weeks' holiday. It introduces to many notabilities, first-rate in their way, but not to that singular notability, the genuine old Osmanli. He is a branch of the ethnographical tree that will not flourish in European atmosphere: though the same exuberance of vigour that first sent forth the mighty shoot from central Asia, has prevailed to pass through the feeble defences of the West. It is as an overgrown weakling that he exists in our quarter of the world. His eyes are without fire, his manners without the stamp of originality. He succumbs beneath the presence of the Frank,—the hated and despised, and yet the feared and the envied. The better feelings of his nature suffer from the constant presence of those whose superiority he is forced to admire, but whose personal character he naturally detests. Such conflict of feeling cannot but be with detriment to the spirit, which, so fettered, refuses the generous offices of brotherhood, and yields the debt of civility only from policy or by constraint. How different is this man in his proper country! where the usages and language, and ideas are unmixedly those which have been his father's before him; where the leading idea of gaÓors is, that they are infidel dogs, who eat pork and are unenlightened of Islam; and where every one firmly believes that the whole set of Franks are allowed to occupy and rule only by the clemency of their high and mighty lord the Padishah! Here the Turk may condescend, and here he can be truly generous and hospitable. The Frank comes as a wanderer from his own remote, settlement (somewhere or other at the world's end,) to see the lords of the earth, the true believers. He is a poor ignorant stranger who cannot speak a word of intelligible language. It is kind, and gratifying to self-esteem, to receive such an one, and show him those good things that shall make him sigh to return to his own forlorn fatherland. Besides all this, the outward modifications affecting the European Turk spoil his nationality. The reforms of Mahmoud, and of the present sultan, have wofully cut up the appearance of their subjects; and, of course, sumptuary changes such as these affect especially those who mix with the world, and are near court. Who can believe in the ill-looking fellow with smooth face, regular built boots, and tight frock coat, buttoned up to the chin,—to say nothing of the wretched red cap he wears instead of a turban! That a Turk! pshaw! When I landed at that nest of pirates, Valona,—what time we bore a message to the respectable inhabitants, that unless they took a little more pains to grow honest, we should be under certain painful necessities with respect to them,—was I to look upon that wretched rabble as Turks? Men dressed in every variety of shabby frock coat and trousers; and, above all, men who were undisguised in the exhibition of vulgar curiosity. What amount of excitement would it take to make a genuine Turk open the eyes of astonishment? or, should he even be betrayed into an unguarded Mashhallah! has the power of morbid attraction been discovered which may draw him from his seat and lead him to any effort of inquiry? When, then, I saw these people flocking together on their jetty to meet us, I at once recognised them as mongrel and degenerated. They were queer fellows in their way, too, quite worthy of observation. The whole community are piratical: the youth practically, the seniors by counsel. They manage their evil deeds with a singleness of The same dissatisfaction must be confessed with Previsa Salonica, that place of steady disrespectability, which has maintained its bad character since the apostolic days, and even with Constantinople. This last is a gem of the earth, but, its beauties are to a great extent those of civilised elaboration. Courtiers form but one species, and breathe pretty much the same atmosphere throughout the world. He who has studied them throughout the world has marked only the circumstantial differences of locality producing their effect on a spring of action, itself one and constant. To search out and know this principle it may be useful to visit foreign courts; but Man, beyond the exhibition of this one phase of character, does not flourish in such places. If the best place of observation be not actually the wilderness, because that too is as extensive, calling forth necessarily particular energies, and exhibiting to a great extent one effect, we may take favourable ground somewhere midway between the extremes. It is to the heart and centre of a country that we should go for the vigorous current of its life. Here the colour is vivid, the speciality preserved, the family features of our brethren distinguishable. I suppose it was some such profound rumination as this that suggested to my two friends and myself the idea of the cruise hereinafter to be recorded. All three were right travel-smitten, a state of mind which marvellously thrives on slight nourishment. We had had substantial food in this way, and were proportionately vigorous in enterprise. We had seen at odd times a good deal of our friends the Turks, but it had been chiefly of the vagabonds near the coast. Into all sorts of queer creeks and corners had we found our way in boat expeditions, that most capital mode of adventure; though rather ticklish for those who are not pretty strong in numbers. So had we dug into the sinuosities of Greece, of which both eastern and western borders were familiar to us; and it is not a little that I would take for my Horace, which I bore with me up the Ambracian Gulf, and which bears over the "nunc est bibendum" the note of my personal presence off Actium. Pleasant, too, are the recollections of our visit to Nicopolis, the mighty monument of this victory, now serving, as all things earthly must one day serve, to display the victory of time. We were forced to walk on this occasion, as to have touched a saddle or animal would have exposed us to the penalties of quarantine. Our good friend Achmet walked before with a long stick, booming the people off, who shrank from our contact right and left, as if we had been the lords of the soil, or as if it had been they, instead of us, who had to fear the plague-compromising touch. And then when we returned hungry as hunters from our march, full of ready forgiveness for any faults of cookery, what a banquet was that which consular hospitality had prepared! Oh, the jocosity of that breakfast, which was in the open air, because we could not go into the house, where we could take nothing from, and could give nothing to, the ladies, but had to keep them at most There is no mode of travelling which can possibly be compared to this boat-work. The scope of such proceeding is certainly, by comparison, confined; but, so far as it goes, nothing is to be mentioned in the same day with it—that is, so far as comfort is concerned. Places even inland may be visited in this way, for almost any where a horse or two can be mustered, and the craft left in charge of her crew. What a difference between turning into your own berth at night, and affording the amusement one does on shore to the Hellenic vermin. One good joke in this way happened to me once upon a time, showing what quarters travellers may stumble upon even with the best recommendations. A large party of us had started, particularly recommended by letter from the consular agent of a place that shall be nameless, to no less a person than the Demarch of a high-sounding Greek town, who was to do every thing for us in the way of billeting. By great exertion, and with aching bones, we managed to reach this place after night-fall, prolonging, for its hope's sake, our course through a most break-neck road, and through unseen but clamorous numbers of their wolf-like dogs. At last we came up with a miserable shed, which proved to be the mansion of the great man. Of course we should have looked for no other floor but the mudden one we found, had it not been for our magnificent recommendation, which warranted the expectation of a suite of apartments. But the floor was so packed with goods and chattels, affording the most comfortable roosting for the fleas, and with children who brought in ever-fresh collections to the stock, that among the many undelectable nights we passed, none equalled in horrors that one of official introduction and high classical association. And such is pretty generally the hap of him who ventures to pass the night in one of those habitations where sweeping and washing remain exotics, and where the αὐτόχθονες acquire impenetrable skins. Now, all this sort of thing you avoid in a boat, besides converting the mere locomotion from a frequent punishment into a delight: always supposing, be it remembered, that you have not to beat your way home up the Sinus Saronicus against a tempest. But the old story of the rose and the thorn comes in here too. By land you are exposed to the miseries of your nightly quarterings: by sea you may rejoice your heart with the beauties with which Nature rejoices to adorn, many of which she reserves for, the coast, and plunge each morning into the brine with an unsmarting skin; and if you be a genuine lover of the picturesque, you will be no less eager to seek it among the fantasies of human society than among the rocks and crags of a landscape. So thought I and my two friends as we sat smoking the chibouque of reflection, at that best of Smyrna's cafÉs, on the French quay. We were unanimous on the conclusion that Smyrna had no earthly right to the title of a Turkish city, except the accident of its happening to be in Turkey. You may go half over the place and meet not a single Turk, except those wonderful fellows, the porters, whose Herculean powers have been so often noticed; or perhaps friend Hassan, the chief of the police, making a progress, with some couple of grim attendants. In fact, in the motley of its society, if any one colour prevail, it is that of France: for among all decent people her language is spoken, and in all reunions of pretension, her colonists are the more numerous body. The Greeks, to be sure, are in great plenty, but they occupy chiefly the lower grades. And as it so happens that the Sisters of Charity have here an establishment, and maintain, with much ability and diligence, a female school, the only one in the place—and that the Lazarists are equally sedulous in their province, it seems not unlikely that Smyrna will become entirely French in spirit, so far as the upper classes are concerned. At present the mixture only savours strongly of the Gallic ingredient. And a most agreeable mixture it makes, affording the blended essences of many nations. Few who have seen much of that society can entertain its reflection without pleasure; and all are wise to make the most of its image, as the Now this is all pleasant exceedingly, but to enjoy this sort of thing sustainedly one should not have an English constitution. We are a phlegmatic set, to whom such zests should be dealt out homoeopathically: else do we soon begin to criticise and take exceptions. Now it so happens that we had entered upon the experience of this delectability with every good disposition towards it, but a still better disposition towards the getting beyond it if we could, that we might see something of the real state of the people. We soon voted Smyrna a bore, as was likely with those who in coming thither had been bent on using it only as a stepping-stone to get farther. But this was more easily said than done with us, who were travellers not for our own fancy's sake, but in the service of her most gracious Majesty. Had we been simply unfettered, our will was good to have started directly coastward, and to have explored those vast tracts of Asia Minor, of so much of which nothing is known. The country between the coast and the western border of Persia, explored in a direct line, not going towards Eszeroun, and a divergence southward towards and about Caramania, would be a fine field for travel. We could well afford to receive some addition to our knowledge of the central parts of Asia Minor, and I should like right well to be one of two bound to the borders of lake Van, to pay a visit to the Armenian patriarch. But such an expedition would take a deal of time and of money. Now we had but the short interval of time at our disposal, during which it was judged that Britannic interests might suffer our absence without detriment. Happily for us, we knew that foreign infection was but skin deep in this country; so that, although the curious recesses were beyond our reach, we might, by a comparatively short expedition, arrive at the texture and substance of the mass. Two cities invited us, Aidin, and Magnesia, both of which are, as nearly as possible, free from foreigners: for the rajahs, though The vote passed in favour of Magnesia; partly because we expected in that place to find, through the good offices of the consular agent, decent quarters in some Greek house. The question of ways and means remained. The ordinary mode of conducting these proceedings is through the ministry of a Kawash or guide; a person whose assistance is generally considered indispensable, in a country where one neither knows the roads, nor can exchange a word of inquiry with the people. But this plan was little suited to our taste, as we knew by experience that these men are apt to assume the absolute control of their parties. In this respect they are no worse than the other whole tribe of ciceroni, who assuredly are among the greatest bores that necessity imposes. If they would confine themselves to leading the way, and interpreting, and rest contented with solicitude for the horses, they would be useful and endurable. S—— forewent for a moment his amber mouthpiece to give us his experience and opinion. "These kawashes are greater plagues on a journey than a pebble in the shoe. When I was a youngster on board the Blanche, we started, a party of us, for Aidin, under convoy of one of them with a first-rate character. We had hardly got clear of the town when he began to take command of us, coolly wanting to regulate our pace. We stood no nonsense, but set off full cry, with him at our heels shouting like mad. He was presently up with me, and caught my horse's bridle, uttering all sorts of unintelligible exclamations. The fellow drew his yataghan, and I really thought was going to cut my head off. However, he vented his rage on the brute, striking him with the flat of his weapon; and it was with difficulty I pacified him at last, by saying, 'Pasha!' several times, and pointing forward; giving him to understand that if he did not behave himself, I should complain to the Pasha as soon as we arrived." "And then," said K——, "you must always battle with them for your halting-place, if they do not happen to fancy it. If you want to go ahead, the horses are tired; and if you want to stop, there's sure to be some better place farther on." I joined in the vote against subjecting ourselves to tutelage. "But these fellows do something else besides showing the way—they interpret. Isn't that rather a floorer for us?" "Not a bit of it," said S——. "I'll be the ἡγεμών, for I've been the road once before; and K—— there talks a little Turkish." "Yes, I know the numbers, and can say 'Kateh saket,' which means, 'how many hours,' or 'how far to?'" "That will do capitally; for if you say, 'Kateh saket Magnesia?' any blockhead will know that you mean 'How far to Magnesia?' Besides, we all can say, 'Salam Aleikum,' so can do the polite as well as the interrogative." Reader, this was a mistake. A Mussulman loves not to hear this salutation at the mouth of a Christian; it is the expression of a religious wish; and when uttered by one who receives not the KorÁn, it falls on the ear of a Turk as a profana Thus slender was the stock of language with which we started; but perhaps we were not much worse off than we should have been had we known a good deal more. It is all very well with our European dialects to have a certain smattering of grammar and principle; but the hopeless languages of the East come under a different category. Any knowledge of their theory short of actual accuracy is nearly useless; perhaps worse than useless, because, by beguiling the unhappy smatterer into ambitious attempts, it cheats him of the little power he may have of rendering himself intelligible. A man who is content with the attainment of a certain vocabulary of substantives, in whose pronunciation he is perfect, has much the best chance, because he can eke out the other parts of speech by gesture. But the attachÉ of legation, who has been poring over their orthography, and hammering at principle, often proves the uselessness of his acquisitions for colloquial purposes. However, we might have done very well with a little more knowledge than we possessed on this particular occasion. We did not know at this time what Magnesia could do for us in the way of an inn, though we were quite aware of the fact, that throughout the kingdom khans are provided for the accommodation of travellers. What we had seen in this way was very undesirable, being little more than what might serve to minister to the comfort of the horses. In some places, the subsiding stream of travellers has left them bare and ruined; in others, Smyrna to wit, there is so ready entertainment elsewhere, that the khan has become little more than a public stable yard. And here, any time of the day, you may see tethered a collection of donkeys that would set up all the costermongers in London, and drivers who would surely make fortunes by their lessons, if their brethren of Hampstead possessed ambition and gratitude. The vulgar argument of the stick may be occasionally exhibited, but it is by the magic of a single word that the energies of the donkey are usually aroused. And the mystery of the training is this, that neither words nor blows are effective, except from the initiated. Often it will happen, that after long trial of coaxing, the meekest rider will be betrayed into the experiment of cudgelling. It will then certainly happen, that after having cudgelled his full, he will yield the victory to the impassible brute, and be reduced to hope, that when he has had thistles enough, he may be induced to move on. Suddenly there sounds behind him the exclamation of DÊÁh! DÊÁh! and the donkey starts into a dislocating trot. This is your true driver's policy, to make his presence and aid indispensable. By dint of great practice, I acquired a pretty accurate imitation of this sound, and have practised it successfully. But the animals were quick to discover the imposture, and to punish it by extra impassibility. Many of the best khans or caravansaries are of royal foundation; others, like the fountains, the monuments of departed piety. But much as we might admire the institution, we could not feel very ambitious of occupying a billet of so very gregarious and inexclusive character. Besides, in these khans you must provide for yourself all that you require in the shape of provisions; and it was too much of a good thing to carry with us tea, and bread and butter. We clung to the hope of finding lodging in the shade of domestic hospitality, the rather because of our recommendation to the consular agent. A second string was added to our bow by a worthy Armenian of Smyrna. He kindly assisted our intention by a letter to a compatriot of his at Magnesia, of whom the least that we could expect was, that he would receive us to the fellowship of trencher and hearth; that is, should we present our introduction, for, in the first instance, our purpose was to seek the man of office. We had some debate concerning the propriety of our going ostensibly armed—no doubt, however, concerning the advisability of our actually being armed. In those desolate tracts, where you may ride pretty well all day and meet no wayfarer, except some lone camel-driver, riding at the head of his long string of animals, it The first of these laws on this particular occasion I egregiously transgressed. My two friends were supplied with unimpeachable pistols of their own; but I, being of peaceable disposition, had made no such provision. A worthy friend on shore supplied the deficiency, by lending me a pair of the most formidable weapons one would wish to see. They were of the old style of theatrical horse-pistols, as long nearly as a small carbine, and beyond any ordinary man's power of holding steady. The stocks were deeply incrusted with silver, or something that looked very like it. The only objection to them was, that nothing could persuade the flint to give out a spark, or induce the pan to take the hint at the proper time. Yet though I knew them to be in fact thoroughly useless, they contributed sensibly to my comfort, for they were most excellent make-believes. Our steeds were supplied by our good friend George, the Greek stable keeper, as no Turk would have let out his animals on such an occasion without sending along with them a kawash to look after the mad Franks. It betokened no little confidence in George, that he allowed his horses to be taken away, whither and for how long he know not. It is a noble climate where you can Mahmoud, the Janissary—by the way it is odd that they should call this consular body-guard of one by such a name—brought us the document, and then, of course, stood by to pocket his backshish. We were then making our final preparations for the start, laying in a little personal provender at the restaurant in Frank Street, at the door of which stood our animals, saddled and impatient. "Give him his tip," we said to S——, who had been installed pay-master for the nonce. A smile and a coin were forthwith presented to the functionary. "Bow, wow, wow," or something like it, uttered by our Mahometan friend, made us look up, and we saw him unaccepting and unsmiling. "Why, thou greedy varlet," (friend, the words were innocuous, because unintelligible,) "'tis by so much exactly too much for thee." It is an amusing thing to have a dispute where words will not second energy. Such a scene have I noted more than once, as a fine psychological demonstration. You abuse a guide or a donkey driver in a language he does not understand, for disobeying directions that he did not understand, word or particle. The whole thing is absurd, and as a man of sense you ought to be philosophical. But when I have noted you in such case, and seen that you do not lose your temper, nor abuse the offender in round English, I will set you down as of placid temperament. Mahmoud growled, and looked as if he would fain have resumed the paper, or abducted the horses; and thus it was with the interchange of such pleasantries, and followed by his good wishes, that we started. "Bravo," said K——; "we start with a row, we shall be all right presently." And now stoop well your head and keep your eyes open as you turn the corner into the Armenian quarter. These houses that make such beautiful streets, are ticklish things to ride by. They all project forward, having the upper story supported by a kind of flying buttress. These are at no great height from the ground, so that an unbending horseman passing under, would infallibly knock his head against the corner of one of their first floors. But chiefly on donkeys is this risk noticeable—the stubborn brutes which it is much the fashion to ride, and whom none but the drivers can guide. On entering Smyrna by night—those dull streets where gas is not—your only plan is to keep well in the middle of the street, right in the hollow. It is a beautiful quarter of the town; in itself picturesque and variegated in colour, and beset with the fairest embellishments. Look up at that lattice for a moment only, and then prick your way again. Did you see those lustrous eyes and graceful head-dress? The sun is now high, and these stars twinkle but from lattices. Pass this way at even, and you shall see them congregated in brilliancy. They are not of the retiring nature that shuns observation. They sit congregated round every door wooing the breeze. Supper is spread in the spacious halls, beyond which the open doors give to view a perspective of garden. Nay, you may stop and stare—the men are occupied with their pipes, and the women are not offended at admiration. Right interesting are these Armenians, of whom the men have all the riches, and the women all the beauty There might be to fiery spirits something humiliating in the dress to which they are so anxious to acquire the right: the huge and ugly cap which bespeaks them to be under some particular foreign protection, as the case may be, which is their only safeguard against all sorts of oppression. But where nationality is a mere idea without embodiment, it soon becomes as a dream. The Armenian is content to be endured and protected. Meanwhile he is not without a sort of national ambition; but it is of a new kind for him. They believe themselves to be the most ancient of people, retaining the original language that was spoken before the dispersion of Babel, and by consequence the identical language that was spoken by Adam. An interesting excursion might be made on this subject, seemingly so far at variance with the conclusions of learned ethnographers. Their deductions are from undoubted facts, and tend to their conclusion with a force that some philologists at least have considered irresistible. Through the Armenian quarter our road lay onward for a short distance by the banks of Miles. It is but an insignificant stream, of scarcely sufficient tide to turn a mill; but in no better case are Ilissus and Cephissus found to be in the present day. The shade of Socrates still seems to linger over the Attic streamlet, swelling its puny tide to the capacity of the loftiest musings of the humanized; and the memory of Homer is wedded to these waters of Meles. The critics who would disprove the existence of the bard, and assign the different members of his compositions to numerous anonymous authors, or to indefinite traditions, would find this no vantage ground. The influences of the place would abash their contumacy. There is something poetical even now about the locality. The stream flows through the Armenian quarter, passing by a short course to the well-known Caravan-bridge, and thence into the open country. At pretty well all hours of the day, groups of nymphs may be seen washing clothes in the waters, exhibiting tableaux vivans of Nausicaa and her maidens. No vulgar washerwomen are these with corrugated hands at reeking tubs, but such as painters and poets might celebrate. Washing is with them a pastime, and an elegance: their laundry a studio of art. They go right into the water, and splash about their things like naiads sporting; and anon returning to the bank, put forth their little strength in beating out the clothes. It would be rash to say that the process is so effectual as our more homely method; but it is at least pretty to look at. At evening the banks of the stream assume another appearance. Gay crowds promenade, and cavalcades linger; people of many nations congregate to unbend the brow laden with the cares of the day. Fathers muse, maidens gambol, and matrons chide. A little farther on, and we come to Caravan-bridge,—of all Smyrna's objects, perhaps the one best known by reputation. It has its name from the number of caravans that, entering Smyrna from the interior, have to pass over it. And see, there is at this moment a string of camels in the way, so that we may as well halt in this convenient shade till they be gone by. That little Ethiopian will look after our horses, and Ali will bring us coffee and chibouques in a twinkling. See how pleasantly these trees overshadow This is a place where at odd times many a pleasant hour may be passed. It is such a thoroughfare, (at least the bridge, though you are in the shade by its side, well out of the bustle,) that there is always something passing worthy of notice. It is also a capital place to practise the language, if you have any of it to expend. You see the strangest figures entering from the interior with their merchandise, which is all diligently examined by the officer of the customs here posted. It is a singular thing that the long trains of camels are invariably headed by a donkey; who takes the lead as coolly as if it were quite in order that such an insignificant brute should drag after him some five hundred animals, each big enough to eat him. The Caravandgis might be supposed to come all from one locality, so strong is the family likeness subsisting between them. Perhaps they actually do, for this hereditary disposition of employments is quite according to the genius of the nation. They are short, stout, little men, with round smooth faces, especially stolid in expression. They dress in the old style, never wearing the fez; and sure we ought to take the portrait of one of them, were it only for the sake of their boots. Such buckets are not often worn, and to pedestrians would be impracticable. But these men do not walk: seated on their donkeys, they jog on at the head of the caravan, bearing the merchandise of Asia through wildernesses where the foot of man is strange. With man they have little communion, and with nature they have little sympathy, or their soulless visages belie them. Life to them must be a blended experience of tobacco and camel's bells. I have marked them at night, when arrived at their journey's end, and bivouacking in the midst of their animals. The brutes formed a circular rampart, in the centre of which reclined the men. It was a desolate spot, such as generally disposes men to sociability with the stray fellow-creature or two who may happen to have been led to the same point; and here were two or three fellow-countrymen of the drivers. But they took no notice of their neighbours; they performed their prostrations, they disposed of their supper, and coiled themselves up to rest. If they rose for a moment, it was to look after some restless camel; and early in the morning, long before the sun, when I turned out, they were departed to a more remote solitude. But now the road is clear, and we make a start of it, leaving the town fairly behind. "Stop, my men," said J——; "look at your horses' feet." "What's that for?" "We shall pass never another smithy this livelong day; and should a screw be loose in any of their shoes, it would be rather a bring up for us." Sage and sound advice for those who have a long ride before them; which yet at this time of our need we rejected; and for which I afterwards suffered. Awakening to a sense of my error, I did afterwards make a divergence to a village by the way; but there found no artist, and in the course of the day I learned fully to appreciate the importance of a nail Our road was in the line that leads to the pretty village of Bonabat, leaving the no less pretty village of Boujah on the right, but far away, and hidden among the hills. These are two pleasant suburban retreats that the merchants of Smyrna, have established as a ricovero from the toils of the city. Bonabat is more especially inhabited by the French, and Boujah by the English. There is a third village somewhat farther off in the direction of Ephesus called Sittagui. A few years ago, when the Turkey trade was in its palmy days, the merchants used to do their business in most agreeable style. It was during certain months only that they went every day to their offices, the rest of the year being permitted to enjoyment. At present, though perhaps somewhat less magnificent in their style, they are eminently comfortable in their ways. During the summer months, their families are removed to these pretty country places; and at sundown each evening the ways are covered with the returning fathers and brothers. For us Englishmen, Boujah was naturally the accustomed haunt. Here is to be found the charming mixture of nationalities, which is the feature of Smyrneot society. Their ways are manly, without constraint, and in many respects patriarchal. The young ladies never wear bonnets, and are generally to be seen of a fine evening sitting in the open air before their own gates. The whole community having been pretty well all brought up together from childhood are on the happiest terms of intimacy: surnames are almost obsolete. Ungrateful must the heart be that can remember without pleasure days past in their society; where every house is open, and every face has a smile for the guest. There is one particular spot here, called the Three Wells, where my evening's walk has ever brought before me images fraught with recollection of Rebecca's introduction to Isaac, or of Jacob wooing Rachel. We now passed into the open country, where the road, leading over a low ridge of hills, becomes of less definite track. And the last village was passed, and thenceforward we were to meet stations only as rare landmarks. Hereabouts sugar, as a general luxury, disappears; the caffedgis supplying the mere coffee, unless some more luxurious stranger demand the drug. It is then dealt out from a small private store, and notified by a separate charge in the bill. The homely old Turks are ignorant of the uses of sugar; and it would seem that their language does not supply a descriptive term, as their "shuk-kar" is evidently a mispronunciation of our word. One could not, without romancing, say much of the beauty of the country through which we were passing at this early stage of our journey. It is even flat, and tame; and appears to be so more decidedly by contrast with most that lies in this region. Almost every where else the prospect is bounded by beautiful hills, here and there aspiring to the character of mountains, whose sides vary constantly in tint as they rangingly receive the rays of the rising or the setting sun. Or sometimes one has to pass through vast plains, where neglect and desolation have, in the exuberance of nature, assumed the appearance of luxuriant cultivation. Few artificial pastures could equal the natural beds of oleander that are sometimes found here stretching far away till lost behind the crags of a ravine; and which, in their unconstrained vegetation, show colours that the hothouse might envy. And particularly are the wildernesses of myrtle remarkable, which for miles grow in thick jungle, through which it is difficult to preserve the narrow track kept for passage. It is curious to pass through these odorous thickets, where you can never see around you, and seldom many feet before you, on account of the windings of the way. Long are heard the tinklings of the camel's bells, and the heavy plod of their feet, before the train comes into sight, and many are the manoeuvrings to effect a passage in peace. The camels, however many, are all linked together, and to the preceding donkey; and as they cannot be always persuaded to observe due distance, so as to keep "Hail him," said K——. "Bon giorno, signori!" "Servo, signori. Andate in Magnesia?" "I told you so," said K——. And so it was. He, her Britannic Majesty's, and half-a-dozen other majesty's agent, stood convicted by his speech. The man had not been out of Magnesia, perhaps, any day for the last twelvemonths, and he had chosen, for the prosecution of his foreign interests, that precise day, when these three desolate Englishmen had come to throw themselves on his cares. However, our blood was up, and our souls superior to trifles. "Here's a poser! shall we reveal?" "Not a bit of it. We don't want him, nor any one else. Any mixture of aid would have marred the spirit of our expedition: besides, remember our friend the Seraph." This Seraph was of no higher than terrestrial order, being no other than the Armenian to whom we had the letter commendatory. What the word in their application means, I cannot say exactly, but believe it to be descriptive of the sordid occupation of a basqua; at any rate, it is a common style and title Αρμενικῶς. In the confidence of this our possession, we allowed the European to pass on without giving him any hint of our forlorn condition, and without craving any direction for our conduct. He evidently thought that we had some bosom friend ready to receive us, or at any rate that we were fully up to all the ways and means of the country—as well he might, seeing us roam about in such degagÉ style. We were far too jealous of our dignity to betray any symptoms of indecision, or having been taken aback; and our adieux were waved to him with a perfect air of being at home and comfortable. "Now then for an Armenian at home! How fortunate that fellow should be out of the way, for now our friend the Seraph will be sure to insist on our honouring his roof." "Capital spreads, too, they give—judging by the samples one sees laid out of an evening in their halls." "Hospitable people; are they not, K——?" "Oh, very. Not that ever I have been in one of their houses." "Nor I—any farther than having a pipe with old John the Dragoman at his porch." "Nor I." Here was a crown to our adventure! An untrodden city, an unvisited people, a welcome to the mysterious bosom of Armenian hospitality! Near the Atlantic seaboard, the most common substantival components of river names are (1) -tuk and (2) -hanne, -han, or -huan. Neither of these is an independent word. They are inseparable nouns-generic, or generic affixes. -Tuk (Abn. -teg[oo]É; Del. -ittuk;) denotes a river whose waters are driven in waves, by tides or wind. It is found in names of tidal rivers and estuaries; less frequently, in names of broad and deep streams, not affected by tides. With the adjectival missi, 'great,' it forms missi-tuk,—now written Mystic,—the name of 'the great river' of Boston bay, and of another wide-mouthed tidal river in the Pequot country, which now divides the towns of Stonington and Groton. Near the eastern boundary of the Pequot country, was the river which the Narragansetts called Paquat-tuk, sometimes written Paquetock, now Pawcatuck, 'Pequot river,'—the present eastern boundary of Connecticut. Another adjectival prefix, pohki or pahke, 'pure,' 'clear,' found in the name of several tidal streams, is hardly distinguishable from the former, in the modern forms of Pacatock, Paucatuck, &c. Quinni-tuk is the 'long tidal-river.' With the locative affix, Quinni-tuk-ut, 'on long river,'—now Connecticut,—was the name of the valley, or lands both sides of the river. In one early deed (1636), I find the name written Quinetucquet; in another, of the same year, Quenticutt. Roger Williams (1643) has Qunnihticut, and calls the Indians of this region Quintik-Óock, i.e. 'the long river people.' The c in the second syllable of the modern name has no business there, and it is difficult to find a reason for its intrusion. 'Lenapewihittuck' was the Delaware name of 'the river of the Lenape,' and 'Mohicannittuck,' of 'the river of the Mohicans' (Hudson River). Of Pawtucket and Pawtuxet, the composition is less obvious; but we have reliable Indian testimony that these names mean, respectively, 'at the falls' and 'at the little falls.' AcÁwmÉ or OgkomÉ (Chip. agami; Abn. aganmi; Del. achgameu;) means 'on the other side,' 'over against,' 'beyond.' As an adjectival, it is found in Acawm-aukÉ, the modern 'Accomac,' a peninsula east of Chesapeake Bay, which was 'other-side land' to the Powhatans of Virginia. The site of Plymouth, Mass., was called 'Accomack' by Capt. John Smith,—a name given not by the Indians who occupied it but by those, probably, who lived farther north, 'on the other side' of Plymouth Bay. The countries of Europe were called 'other-side lands,'—Narr. acawmen-Óaki; Abn. aganmen-[oo]ki. With -tuk, it forms acawmen-tuk (Abn. aganmen-teg[oo]), 'other-side river,' or, its diminutive, acawmen-tuk-es (Abn. aganmen-teg[oo]Éss[oo]), 'the small other-side river,'—a name first given (as Agamenticus or Accomenticus) to York, Me., from the 'small tidal-river beyond' the Piscataqua, on which that town was planted. Peske-tuk (Abn. peskÉ-teg[oo]É) denotes a 'divided river,' or a river which another cleaves. It is not generally (if ever) applied to one of the 'forks' which unite to form the main stream, but to some considerable tributary received by the main stream, or to the division of the stream by some obstacle, near its mouth, which makes of it a 'double river.' The primary meaning of the (adjectival) root is 'to divide in two,' and the secondary, 'to split,' 'to divide forcibly, or abruptly.' These shades of meaning are not likely to be detected under the disguises in which river-names come down Piscataqua, Pascataqua, &c., represent the Abn. peskÉ-teg[oo]É, 'divided tidal-river.' The word for 'place' (ohke, Abn. 'ki,) being added, gives the form Piscataquak or -quog. There is another Piscataway, in New Jersey,—not far below the junction of the north and south branches of the Raritan,—and a Piscataway river in Maryland, which empties into the Potomac; a Piscataquog river, tributary to the Merrimac, in New Hampshire; a Piscataquis (diminutive) in Maine, which empties into the Penobscot. Pasquotank, the name of an arm of Albemarle Sound and of a small river which flows into it, in North Carolina, has probably the same origin. The adjectival peskÉ, or piskÉ, is found in many other compound names besides those which are formed with -tuk or -hanne: as in Pascoag, for peskÉ-aukÉ, in Burrilville, R.I., 'the dividing place' of two branches of Blackstone's River; and Pesquamscot, in South Kingston, R.I., which (if the name is rightly given) is "at the divided (or cleft) rock,"—peskÉ-ompsk-ut,—perhaps some ancient land-mark, on or near the margin of Worden's Pond. NÔeu-tuk (NÓahtuk, Eliot), 'in the middle of the river,' may be, as Mr. Judd Tetiquet or Titicut, which passes for the Indian name of Taunton, and of a fishing place on Taunton River in the north-west part of Middleborough, Mass., shows how effectually such names may be disguised by phonetic corruption and mutilation. Kehte-tuk-ut (or as Eliot wrote it in Genesis xv. 18, Kehteihtukqut) means 'on the great river.' In the (2). The other substantival component of river-names, -hanne or -han (Abn. -ts[oo]ann or -tann; Mass. -tchuan;) denotes 'a rapid stream' or 'current;' primarily, 'flowing water.' In the Massachusetts and Abnaki, it occurs in such compounds as anu-tchuan (Abn. ari'ts[oo]ann), 'it over-flows:' kussi-tchuan (Abn. kesi'ts[oo]ann), 'it swift flows,' &c. In Pennsylvania and Virginia, where the streams which rise in the highlands flow down rapidly descending slopes, -hannÉ is more common than -tuk or sepu in river names. Keht-hannÉ (kittan, Zeisb.; kithanne, Hkw.) was a name given to the Delaware River as 'the principal or greatest stream' of that region: and by the western Delawares, to the Ohio. Alleghany, or as some prefer to write it, Allegheny,—the Algonkin name of the Ohio River, but now restricted to one From the river, the name appears to have been transferred by the English to a range of the "Endless Mountains." 3. Nippe, Nipi (= n'pi; Narr. nip; Muhh. nup; Abn. and Chip. nebi; Del. m'bi;) and its diminutives, nippisse and nips, were employed in compound names to denote Water, generally, without characterizing it as 'swift flowing,' 'wave moved,' 'tidal,' or 'standing:' as, for example, in the name of a part of a river, where the stream widening with diminished current becomes lake-like, or of a stretch Quinnipiac, regarded as the Indian name of New Haven,—also written Quinnypiock, Quinopiocke, Quillipiack, &c., and by President Stiles Win-nippe-sauki (Winnipiseogee) will be noticed hereafter. 4. -Paug, -pog, -bog, (Abn. -bÉga or -bÉgat; Del. -pÉcat;) an inseparable generic, denoting 'water at rest,' 'standing water,' is the substantival component of names of small lakes and ponds, throughout New England. Massa-paug, 'great pond,'—which appears in a great variety of modern forms, as Mashapaug, Mashpaug, Massapogue, Quinni-paug, 'long pond.' One in Killingly, gave a name to Quinebaug River and the 'Quinebaug country.' Endicott, in 1651, wrote this name 'QunnubbÁgge' (3 Mass. Hist. Coll., iv. 191). "Quinepoxet," the name of a pond and small river in Princeton, Mass., appears to be a corruption of the diminutive with the locative affix; Quinni-paug-es-it, 'at the little long pond.' Wongun-paug, 'crooked (or bent) pond.' There is one of the name in Coventry, Conn. Written, 'Wangunbog,' 'Wungumbaug,' &c. Petuhkqui-paug, 'round pond,' now called 'Dumpling Pond,' in Greenwich, Conn., gave a name to a plain and brook in that town, and, occasionally, to the plantation settled there, sometimes written 'Petuckquapock.' Nunni-paug, 'fresh pond.' One in Edgartown, Martha's Vineyard, gave a name (Nunnepoag) to an Indian village near it. Eliot wrote nunnipog, for 'fresh water,' in James iii. 12. Sonki-paug or sonki-paug, 'cool pond.' (Sonkipog, 'cold water,' Eliot.) Egunk-sonkipaug, or 'the cool pond (spring) of Egunk' hill in Sterling, Conn., is named in Chandler's Survey of the Mohegan country, as one of the east bounds. Pahke-paug, 'clear pond' or 'pure water pond.' This name occurs in various forms, as 'Pahcupog,' a pond near Westerly, R.I.; Another noun-generic that denotes 'lake' or 'fresh water at rest,' is found in many Abnaki, northern Algonkin and Chippewa names, but not, perhaps, in Massachusetts or Connecticut. This is the Algonkin -gămi, -gŏmi, or -gummee. Kitchi-gami or 'Kechegummee,' the Chippewa name of Lake Superior, is 'the greatest, or chief lake.' Caucomgomoc, in Maine, is the Abn. kaÄkou-gami-k, 'at Big-Gull lake.' Temi-gami, 'deep lake,' discharges its waters into Ottawa River, in Canada; Kinou-gami, now Kenocami, 'long lake,' into the Saguenay, at Chicoutimi. There is a Mitchi-gami or (as sometimes written) machi-gummi, 'large lake,' in northern Wisconsin, and the river which flows from it has received the same name, with the locative suffix, 'Machigāmig' (for mitchi-gaming). A branch of this river is now called 'Fence River' from a mitchihikan or mitchikan, a 'wooden fence' constructed near its banks, by the Indians, for catching deer. 5. -amaug, denoting 'a fishing place' (Abn. anmangan, 'on pÊche lÀ,') is derived from the root Âm or Âma, signifying 'to take by the mouth;' whence, Âm-aÜ, 'he fishes with hook and line,' and Del. Âman, a fish-hook. Wonkemaug for wongun-amaug, 'crooked fishing-place,' between Warren and New Preston, in Litchfield county, is now 'Raumaug Lake.' Ouschank-amaug, in East Windsor, was perhaps the 'eel fishing-place.' The lake in Worcester, Quansigamaug, Quansigamug, &c., and now Quinsigamond, was 'the pickerel fishing-place,' qunnosuog-amaug. 6. Rock. In composition, -pisk or -psk (Abn. pesk[oo]; Cree, -pisk; Chip. -bik;) denotes hard or flint-like rock; Petukqui-ompskut, corrupted to Pettiquamscut, 'at the round rock.' Such a rock, on the east side of Narrow River, north-east from Tower Hill Church in South Kingston, R.I., was one of the bound marks of, and gave a name to, the "Pettiquamscut purchase" in the Narragansett country. Wanashqui-ompskut (wanashquompsqut, Ezekiel xxvi. 14), 'at the top of the rock,' or at 'the point of rock.' Wonnesquam, Annis Squam, and Squam, near Cape Ann, are perhaps corrupt forms of the name of some 'rock summit' or 'point of rock' thereabouts. Winnesquamsaukit (for wanashqui-ompsk-ohk-it?) near Exeter Falls, N.H., has been transformed to Swampscoate and Squamscot. The name of Swamscot or Swampscot, formerly part of Lynn, Mass., has a different meaning. It is from m'squi-ompsk, 'Red Rock' (the modern name), near the north end of Long Beach, which Penobscot, a corruption of the Abnaki panna[oo]anbskek, was originally the name of a locality on the river so called by the English. Mr. Moses Greenleaf, in a letter to Dr. Morse in 1823, wrote 'Pe noom´ ske ook' as the Indian name of Old Town Falls, "whence the English name of the River, which would have been better, Penobscook." He gave, as the meaning of this name, "Rocky Falls." The St. Francis Indians told Thoreau, that it means "Rocky River." Keht-ompskqut, or 'Ketumpscut' as it was formerly written, Tomheganomset Qussuk, another word for 'rock' or 'stone,' used by Eliot and Roger Williams, is not often—perhaps never found in local names. Hassun or Assun (Chip. assin´; Del. achsin;) 7. Wadchu (in composition, -adchu) means, always, 'mountain' or 'hill.' In Wachuset, we have it, with the locative affix -set, 'near' or 'in the vicinity of the mountain,'—a name which has been transferred to the mountain itself. With the adjectival massa, 'great,' is formed mass-adchu-set, 'near the great mountain,' or 'great hill country,'—now, Massachusetts. 'Kunckquachu' and 'Quunkwattchu,' mentioned in the deeds of Hadley purchase, in 1658, 'Kearsarge,' the modern name of two well-known mountains in New Hampshire, disguises k[oo]wass-adchu, 'pine mountain.' On Holland's Map, published in 1784, the southern Kearsarge (in Merrimack county) is marked "Kyarsarga Mountain; by the Indians, Cowissewaschook." Mauch Chunk (Penn.) is from Del. machk, 'bear' and wachtschunk, 'at, or on, the mountain,'—according to Heckewelder, who writes 'MachkschÚnk,' or the Delaware name of 'the bear's mountain.' In the Abnaki and some other Algonkin dialects, the substantival component of mountain names is -ÁdenÉ,—an inseparable noun-generic. Katahdin (pronounced Ktaadn by the Indians of Maine), Abn. Ket-ÁdenÉ, 'the greatest (or chief) mountain,' is the equivalent of 'Kittatinny,' the name of a ridge of the Alleghanies, in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. 8. -komuk or komako (Del. -kamik, -kamikÉ; Abn. -kamighe; Cree, -gÓmmik; Powhatan, -comaco;) cannot be exactly translated by any one English word. It denotes 'place,' in the sense of enclosed, limited or appropriated space. As a component of local names, it means, generally, 'an enclosure,' natural or artificial; such as a house or other building, a village, a planted field, a thicket or place surrounded by trees, &c. The place of residence of the Sachem, which (says Roger Williams) was "far different from other houses [wigwams], both in capacity, and in the fineness and quality of their mats," was called sachimÂ-komuk, or, as Edward Winslow wrote it, 'sachimo comaco,'—the Sachem-house. Werowocomoco, Weramocomoco, &c. in Virginia, was the 'Werowance's house,' and the name appears on Smith's map, at a place "upon the river Pamauncke [now York River], where the great King [Powhatan] was resident." Kuppi-komuk, 'closed place,' 'secure enclosure,' was the name of a Pequot fastness in a swamp, in Groton, Conn. Roger Williams wrote this name "Cuppacommock," and understood its meaning to be "a refuge, or hiding place." Eliot has kuppÓhkomuk for a planted 'grove,' in Deut. xvi. 21, and for a landing-place or safe harbor, Acts xxvii. 40. Nashaue-komuk, 'half-way house,' was at what is now Chilmark, on Martha's Vineyard, where there was a village of praying Indians The Abnaki keta-kamig[oo] means, according to RÂle, 'the NÉssa[oo]a-kamÍghÉ, meaning 'double place' or 'second place,' was the name of the Abnaki village of St. Francis de Sales, on the St. Lawrence, 9. Of two words meaning Island, munnohan or, rejecting the formative, munnoh (Abn. menahan; Del. menatey; Chip. minÍs, a diminutive,) is the more common, but is rarely, if ever, found in composition. The 'Grand Menan,' opposite Passammaquoddy Bay, retains the Abnaki name. Long Island was Menatey or Manati, 'the Island,'—to the Delawares, Minsi and other neighboring tribes. Any smaller island was menatan (Mass. munnohhan), the indefinite form, or menates (Mass. munnises, manisses), the diminutive. Campanius mentions one 'Manathaan,' Coopers' Island (now Cherry Island) near Fort Christina, in the Delaware, Manisses or Monasses, as Block Island was called, is an Montauk Point, formerly Montauket, Montacut, and by Roger Williams, Munnawtawkit, is probably from manati, auke, and -it locative; 'in the Island country,' or 'country of the Islanders.' The other name of 'Island,' in Algonkin languages, is ahquedne or ocquidne; with the locative; ahquednet, as in Acts xxvii. 16. (Compare, Cree, Ákootin, "it suspends, is sit-uate, e.g. an island in the water," from Âkoo, a verbal root "expressive of a state of rest." Howse's Grammar, p. 152. Micmac, agwitk, "it is in the water;" whence, Ep-agwit, "it lies [sits?] in the water," Chippaquiddick, the modern name of an island divided by a narrow strait from Martha's Vineyard, is from cheppi-aquidne, 'separated island.' Abnaki names ending in -kantti, or -kontee (Mass. -kontu; Etchemin or Maliseet, -kodiah, -quoddy; Micmac, -kandi, or -aikadee;) may be placed with those of the first class, though this termination, representing a substantival component, is really only the locative affix of nouns in the indefinite plural. Exact location was denoted by affixing, to inanimate nouns- This form of verb was rarely used by Eliot and is not alluded to in his Grammar. It appears to have been less common in the Massachusetts than in most of the other Algonkin languages. In the Chippewa, an 'abundance verb,' as Baraga Among Abnaki place-names having this form, the following deserve notice:— Anmes[oo]k-kantti, 'where there is plenty of alewives or herrings;' from Abn. anms[oo]ak (Narr. aumsÛog; Mass. Ômmissuog, cotton;) literally, 'small fishes,' but appropriated to fish of the herring tribe, including alewives and menhaden or bony-fish. RÂle gives this as the name of one of the Abnaki villages on or near the river 'Aghenibekki.' It is the same, probably, as the 'Meesee Contee' or 'Meesucontee,' at Farmington Falls, on Sandy River, Me. 'Amoscoggin,' 'Ammarescoggen,' &c., and the 'Aumoughcawgen' of Capt. John Smith, names given to the Kennebec or its main western branch, the Androscoggin, Madamiscomtis or Mattammiscontis, the name of a tributary of the Penobscot and of a town in Lincoln county, Me., was translated by Mr. Greenleaf, in 1823, "Young Alewive stream;" but it appears to represent met-anms[oo]ak-kantti, 'a place where there has been (but is not now) plenty of alewives,' or to which they no longer resort. Compare RÂle's Cobbosseecontee river, in the south part of Kennebec county, is named from a place near "the mouth of the stream, where it adjoineth itself to Kennebec river," 'Peskadamioukkanti' is given by Charlevoix, as the Indian name of "the river of the Etchemins," that is, the St. Croix,—a name which is now corrupted to Passamaquoddy; but this latter form of the name is probably derived from the Etchemin, while Charlevoix wrote the Abnaki form. The Rev. Elijah Kellogg, in 1828, Of Etchemin and Micmac words having a similar termination, we find among others,— Shubenacadie (Chebenacardie on Charlevoix' map, and Shebenacadia on Jeffry's map of 1775). One of the principal rivers of Nova Scotia, was so named because 'sipen-ak were plenty there.' Professor Dawson was informed by an "ancient Micmac patriarch," that "Shuben or Sgabun means ground-nuts or Indian potatoes," and by the Rev. Mr. Rand, of Hantsport, N.S., that "segubbun is a ground-nut, and Segubbuna-kaddy is the place or region of ground-nuts," &c. "Segoonuma-kaddy, place of gaspereaux; Gaspereau or Alewife River," "Boonamoo-kwoddy, Tom Cod ground," and "Kata-kaddy, eel-ground,"—are given by Professor Dawson, on Mr. Rand's authority. Segoonumak is the equivalent of Mass. and Narr. sequanamÂuquock, 'spring (or early summer) fish,' by R. Williams translated 'bream.' And boonamoo,—the ponamo of Charlevoix (i. 127), who confounded it with some 'species of dog-fish (chien de mer),'—is the ap[oo]nan-mes[oo] of Rasles and papÔnaumsu, 'winter fish,' of Roger Williams, 'which some call frost-fish,'—Morrhua pruinosa. The frequent occurrence of this termination in Micmac, Etchemin and Abnaki local names gives probability to the conjecture, that it came to be regarded as a general name for the region which these tribes inhabited,—'L'arcadia,' 'l'Accadie,' and 'la Cadie,' of early geographers and voyagers. Dr. Kohl has not found this name on any earlier map than that published by Girolamo Ruscelli in 1561. There are two Abnaki words which are not unlike -kantti in sound, one or both of which may perhaps be found in some local names: (1) ka[oo]di, 'where he sleeps,' a lodging place of men or animals; and (2) ak[oo]daÏ[oo]i, in composition or as a prefix, ak[oo]dÉ, 'against the current,' up-stream; as in ned-ak[oo]tÉ'hÉmen, 'I go up stream,' and [oo]derak[oo]dannan, 'the fish go up stream.' Some such synthesis may have given names to fishing-places on tidal rivers, and I am more inclined to regard the name of 'Tracadie' or 'Tracody' as a corruption of [oo]derak[oo]dan, than to derive it (with Professor Dawson Thevet, in La Cosmographie universelle, II. Names formed from a single ground-word or substantival,—with or without a locative or other suffix. To this class belong some names already noticed in connection with compound names to which they are related; such as, Wachu-set, 'near the mountain;' Menahan (Menan), Manati, Manathaan, 'island;' Manataan-ung, Aquedn-et, 'on the island,' &c. Of the many which might be added to these, the limits of this paper permit me to mention only a few. 1. NÂÏag, 'a corner, angle, or point.' This is a verbal, formed from nÂ-i, 'it is angular,' 'it corners.' Eliot wrote "yaue naiyag wetu" for the "four corners of a house," Job i. 19. Sometimes, nÂi receives, instead of the formative -ag, the locative affix (nÂÏ-it or nÂÏ-ut); sometimes it is used as an adjectival prefixed to auke, 'land.' One or another of these forms serves as the name of a great number of river and sea-coast 'points.' In Connecticut, we find a 'Nayaug' at the southern extremity of Mason's Island in Mystic Bay, and 'Noank' (formerly written, Naweag, Naiwayonk, NoÏank, &c.) at the west point of Mystic River's mouth, in Groton; Noag or Noyaug, in Glastenbury, &c. In Rhode Island, Nayatt or Nayot point in Barrington, on Providence Bay, and Nahiganset or Narragansett, 'the country about the Point.' 2. Wonkun, 'bended,' 'a bend,' was sometimes used without affix. The Abnaki equivalent is [oo]anghÍghen, 'courbe,' 'crochÉ' (RÂle). There was a Wongun, on the Connecticut, between Glastenbury and Wethersfield, and another, more considerable, a few miles below, in Middletown. Wonki is found in compound names, as an adjectival; as in Wonki-tuk, 'bent river,' on the Quinebaug, between Plainfield and Canterbury,—written by early recorders, 'Wongattuck,' 'Wanungatuck,' &c., and at last transferred from its proper place to a hill and brook west of the river, where it is disguised as Nunkertunk. The Great Bend between Hadley and Hatfield, Mass., was called Kuppo-wonkun-ohk, 'close bend place,' or 'place shut-in by a bend.' A tract of meadow west of this bend was called, in 1660, 'Cappowonganick,' and 'Capa Another Abnaki word meaning 'curved,' 'crooked,'—pikanghÉn—occurs in the name Pikanghenahik, now 'Crooked Island,' in Penobscot River. 3. HÓcquaun (uhquÔn, Eliot), 'hook-shaped,' 'a hook,'—is the base of Hoccanum, the name of a tract of land and the stream which bounds it, in East Hartford, and of other Hoccanums, in Hadley and in Yarmouth, Mass. Heckewelder Hackensack may have had its name from the hÚcquan-sauk, 'hook mouth,' by which the waters of Newark Bay find their way, around Bergen Point, by the Kill van Cul, to New York Bay. 3. SÓhk or Sauk, a root that denotes 'pouring out,' is the base of many local names for 'the outlet' or 'discharge' of a river or lake. The Abnaki forms, sang[oo]k, 'sortie de la riviÈre (seu) la source,' and sanghede'teg[oo]É [= Mass. saukituk,] gave names to Saco in Maine, to the river which has its outflow at that place, and to Sagadahock (sanghede'aki), 'land at the mouth' of Kennebeck river. Saucon, the name of a creek and township in Northampton county, Penn., "denotes (says Heckewelder Saganaum, Sagana, now Saginaw The Mississagas were people of the missi-sauk, missi-sague, or (with locative) missi-sak-ing, The Saguenay (Sagnay, SagnÉ, Saghuny, etc.), the great tributary of the St. Lawrence, was so called either from the well-known trading-place at its mouth, the annual resort of the Montagnars and all the eastern tribes, In composition with -tuk, 'river' or 'tidal stream,' sauki (adjectival) gave names to 'Soakatuck,' now Saugatuck, the mouth of a river in Fairfield county, Conn.; to 'Sawahquatock,' or 'Sawkatuck-et,' at the outlet of Long Pond or mouth of Herring River, in Harwich, Mass.; and perhaps to Massaugatucket, (missi-saukituk-ut?), in Marshfield, Mass., and in South Kingston, R.I.,—a name which, in both places, has been shortened to Saquatucket. 'Winnipiseogee' (pronounced Win´ ni pe sauk´ e,) is compounded of winni, nippe, and sauki, 'good-water discharge,' and the name must have belonged originally to the outlet by which the waters of the lake pass to the Merrimack, rather than to the lake itself. Winnepesauke, Wenepesioco and (with the locative) Winnipesiockett, are among the early forms of the name. The translation of this synthesis by 'the Smile of the Great Spirit' is sheer nonsense. Another, first proposed by the late Judge Potter of New Hampshire, in his History of Manchester (p. 27), 4. NashauÉ (Chip. nÁssawaiÏ and ashawiwi), 'mid-way,' or 'between,' and with ohke or auk added, 'the land between' or 'the half-way place,'—was the name of several localities. The tract on which Lancaster, in Worcester county (Mass.) was settled, was 'between' the branches of the river, and so it was called 'Nashaway' or 'Nashawake' (nashauÉ-ohke); and this name was afterwards transferred from the territory to the river itself. There was another Nashaway in Connecticut, between Quinnebaug and Five-Mile Rivers in Windham county, and here, too, the mutilated name of the nashaue-ohke was transferred, as Ashawog or Assawog, to the Five-Mile River. Natchaug in the same county, the name of the eastern branch of Shetucket river, belonged originally to the tract 'between' the eastern and western branches; and the Shetucket itself borrows a name (nashaue-tuk-ut) from its place 'between' Yantic and Quinebaug rivers. A neck of land (now in Griswold, Conn.) "between Pachaug River and a brook that comes into it from the south," one of the Muhhekan east boundaries, was called sometimes, Shawwunk, 'at the place between,'—sometimes ShawwÂmug (nashauÉ-amaug), 'the fishing-place between' the rivers, or the 'half-way fishing-place.' 5. Ashim, is once used by Eliot (Cant. iv. 12) for 'fountain.' It denoted a spring or brook from which water was obtained for drinking. In the Abnaki, asiem nebi, 'il puise de l'eau;' and ned-a'sihibe, 'je puise de l'eau, fonti vel fluvio.' (Rasles.) Winne-ashim-ut, 'at the good spring,' near Romney Marsh, is now Chelsea, Mass. The name appears in deeds and records as Winnisimmet, Winisemit, Winnet Semet, etc. The author of the 'New English Canaan' informs us (book 2, ch. 8), that "At Weenasemute is a water, the virtue whereof is, to cure barrennesse. The place taketh his name of that fountaine, which signifieth quick spring, or quickning spring. Probatum." Ashimuit or Shumuit, an Indian village near the line between Sandwich and Falmouth, Mass.,—Shaume, a neck and river in Sandwich (the Chawum of Capt. John Smith?),—Shimmoah, an Indian village on Nantucket,—may all have derived their names from springs resorted to by the natives, as was suggested by the Rev. Samuel Deane in a paper in Mass. Hist. Collections, 2d Series, vol. x. pp. 173, 174. 6. Mattappan, a participle of mattappu (Chip. namÁtabi), 'he sits down,' denotes a 'sitting-down place,' or, as generally employed in local names, the end of a portage between two rivers or from one arm of the sea to another,—where the canoe was launched again and its bearers re-embarked. RÂle translates the Abnaki equivalent, matanbe, by 'il va au bord de l'eau,—a la grÈve pour s'embarquer,' and metanbÉniganik, by 'au bout de delÀ du portage.' Mattapan-ock, afterwards shortened to Mattapan, that part of Dorchester Neck (South Boston) where "the west country people were set down" in 1630, On Smith's Map of Virginia, one 'Mattapanient' appears as the name of the northern fork (now the MattÁpony) of Pamaunk (York) River; another (Mattpanient) near the head waters of the Pawtuxunt; and a third on the 'Chickahamania' not far above its confluence with Powhatan (James) River. Mattapoiset, on an inlet of Buzzard's Bay, in Rochester, Mass.,—another Mattapoiset or 'Mattapuyst,' now Gardner's Neck, in Swanzea,—and 'Mattapeaset' or 'Mattabesic,' on the great bend of the Connecticut (now Middletown), derived their names from the same word, probably. On a map of Lake Superior, made by Jesuit missionaries and published in Paris in 1672, the stream which is marked on modern maps as 'RiviÈre aux Traines' or 'Train River,' is named 'R. Mataban.' The small lake from which it flows is the 'end of portage' between the waters of Lake Michigan and those of Lake Superior. 7. Chabenuk, 'a bound mark'; literally, 'that which separates or divides.' A hill in Griswold, Conn., which was anciently one of the Muhhekan east bound-marks, was called Chabinunk, 'Atchaubennuck,' and 'Chabunnuck.' The village of praying Indians in Dudley (now Webster?) Mass., was named Chabanakongkomuk (Eliot, 1668,) or -ongkomum, and the Great Pond still retains, it is said, the name of Chaubenagungamaug (chabenukong-amaug?), "the boundary fishing-place." This pond was a bound mark between the Nipmucks and the Muhhekans, and was resorted to by Indians of both nations. III. Participials and verbals employed as place-names may generally, as was before remarked, be referred to one or the other of the two preceding classes. The distinction between noun and verb is less clearly marked in Indian grammar than in English. The name Mushauwomuk (corrupted to Shaw The analysis of names of this class is not easy. In most cases, its results must be regarded as merely provisional. Without some clue supplied by history or tradition and without accurate knowledge of the locality to which the name belongs, or is supposed to belong, one can never be certain of having found the right key to the synthesis, however well it may seem to fit the lock. Experience Mayhew writing from Chilmark on Martha's Vineyard, in 1722, gives the Indian name of the place where he was living as Nimpanickhickanuh. If he had not added the information that the name "signifies in English, The place of thunder clefts," and that it was so called "because there was once a tree there split in pieces by the thunder," it is not likely that any one in this generation would have discovered its precise meaning,—though it might have been conjectured that neimpau, or nimbau, 'thunder,' made a part of it. QuilÚtÁmende was (Heckewelder tells us The difficulty of analyzing such names is greatly increased by the fact that they come to us in corrupt forms. The same name may be found, in early records, written in a dozen different ways, and some three or four of these may admit of as many different translations. Indian grammatical In some instances, what is supposed to be an Indian place-name is in fact a personal name, borrowed from some sachem or chief who lived on or claimed to own the territory. Names of this class are likely to give trouble to translators. I was puzzled for a long time by 'Mianus,' the name of a stream between Stamford and Greenwich,—till I remembered that Mayano, an Indian warrior (who was killed by Capt. Patrick in 1643) had lived hereabouts; and on searching the Greenwich records, I found the stream was first mentioned as Moyannoes and Mehanno's creek, and that it bounded 'Moyannoe's neck' of land. Moosup river, which flows westerly through Plainfield into the Quinebaug and which has given names to a post-office and factory village, was formerly Moosup's river,—Moosup or Maussup being one of the aliases of a Narragansett sachem who is better known, in the history of Philip's war, as Pessacus. Heckewelder Some of the examples which have been given,—such as Higganum, Nunkertunk, Shawmut, Swamscot and Titicut,—show how the difficulties of analysis have been increased by phonetic corruption, sometimes to such a degree as hardly to leave a trace of the original. Another and not less striking example is presented by Snipsic, the modern name of a pond between Ellington and Tolland. If we had not access to Chandler's Survey of the Mohegan Country, made in 1705, who would suppose that 'Snipsic' was the surviving representative of Moshenupsuck, 'great-pond brook' or (literally) 'great-pond outlet,' at the south end of Moshenups or Mashenips 'great pond?' The territories of three nations, the Muhhekans, Nipmucks and River Indians, ran together at this point. 'Nameroake,' 'Namareck' or 'Namelake,' in East Windsor, was transformed to May-luck, giving to a brook a name which 'tradition' derives from the 'luck' of a party of emigrants who came in 'May' to the Connecticut. But none of these names exhibits a more curious transformation than that of 'Bagadoose' or 'Bigaduce,' a peninsula on the east side of Penobscot Bay, now Castine, Me. Williamson's History of Maine (ii. 572) states on the authority of Col. J. Wardwell of Penobscot, in 1820, that this point bore the name of a former resident, a Frenchman, one 'Major Biguyduce.' Afterwards, the historian was informed that 'Marche bagyduce' was an Indian word meaning 'no good The adjectivals employed in the composition of Algonkin names are very numerous, and hardly admit of classification. Noun, adjective, adverb or even an active verb may, with slight change of form, serve as a prefix. But, as was before remarked, every prefix, strictly considered, is an adverb or must be construed as an adverb,—the synthesis which serves as a name having generally the verb form. Some of the most common of these prefixes have been mentioned on preceding pages. A few others, whose meanings are less obvious and have been sometimes mistaken by translators, may deserve more particular notice. 1. Pohqui, pohquae´; Narr. pÂuqui; Abn. p[oo]'k[oo]iÉ; 'open,' 'clear' (primarily, 'broken'). In composition with ohke, 'land,' or formed as a verbal in -aug, it denotes 'cleared land' or 'an open place:' as in the names variously written 'Pahquioque,' 'Paquiaug;' 'Pyquaag;' 'Poquaig,' 'Payquaoge,' &c., in Danbury and Wethersfield, and in Athol, Mass. 2. Pahke (Abn. pang[oo]i,) 'clear,' 'pure'. Found with paug, 'standing water' or 'pond,' in such names as 'Pahcupog,' 'Paquabaug,' &c. See page 16. 3. PÂguan-aÜ, 'he destroys,' 'he slaughters' (Narr. paÚquana, 'there is a slaughter') in composition with ohke denotes 'place of slaughter' or 'of destruction,' and commemorates some sanguinary victory or disastrous defeat. This is probably the meaning of nearly all the names written 'Poquannoc,' 'Pequannoc,' 'Pauganuck,' &c., of places in Bridgeport (Stratfield), Windsor and Groton, Conn., and of a town in New Jersey. Some of these, however, may possibly be derived from paukunni and ohke, 'dark place.' 4. Pemi (Abn. pemai-[oo]i; Del. pimÉ-u; Cree, peemÉ;) denotes deviation from a straight line; 'sloping,' 'aslant,' 'twisted.' Pummeeche (Cree, pimich; Chip. pemiji; Abn. pemetsi;) 'crosswise; traverse.' Eliot wrote 'pummeeche may' for 'cross-way,' Obad. 14; and pumetshin (literally, 'it crosses') for 'a cross,' as in up-pumetshin-eum, 'his cross,' Luke xiv. 27. Pemiji-gome or Pemiji-guma, 'cross water,' is the Chippewa name for a lake whose longest diameter crosses the general course of the river which flows through it,—which stretches across, not with the stream. There is such a lake in Minnesota, near the sources of the Mississippi, just below the junction of the two primary forks of that river; another ('Pemijigome') in the chain of small lakes which are the northern sources of the Manidowish (and Chippewa) River in Wisconsin, and still another near the Lacs des Flambeaux, the source of Flambeau River, an affluent of the Manidowish. The same prefix or its equivalent occurs in the name of a lake in Maine, near the source of the Alligash branch of St. John's River. Mr. Greenleaf, in a list of Indian names made in 1823, Pemi- denotes, not a crossing of but deviation from a straight line, whether vertical or horizontal. In place-names it may generally be translated by 'sloping' or 'aslant;' sometimes by 'awry' or 'tortuous.' PemadenÉ, which RÂle gives as the Abnaki word for 'mountain,' denotes a sloping mountain-side (pemi-adenÉ), in distinction from one that is steep or precipitous. 'Pemetiq,' the Indian name of Mount Desert Island, as written by Father Biard in 1611, is the Abnaki peme'teki, 'sloping land.' Pemaquid appears to be another form of the word which RÂle wrote 'Pemaankke,' meaning (with the locative suffix) 'at the place where the land slopes;' where "le terre penche; est en talus." Wanashque, Anasqui, 'at the extremity of,' 'at the end;' Abn. [oo]anask[oo]i[oo]i, 'au bout;' Cree, wÁnnusk[oo]tch; Chip. ishkuÈ, eshqua. See (pp. 18, 19,) Wanashqu-ompsk-ut, Wonnesquam, Names of fishes supply the adjectival components of many place-names on the sea-coast of New England, on the lakes, and along river-courses. The difficulty of analyzing such names is the greater because the same species of fish was known by different names to different tribes. The more common substantivals are -amaug, 'fishing place; -tuk or sipu, 'river;' ohke, 'place;' Abn. -kantti, 'place of abundance;' and -keag, -keke, Abn. -khigÉ, which appears to denote a peculiar mode of fishing,—perhaps, by a weir; From the generic namaus (namohs, El.; Abn. namÉs; Del. namees;) 'a fish'—but probably, one of the smaller sort, for the form is a diminutive,—come such names as Nameoke or Nameaug (New London), for namau-ohke, 'fish country;' Namasket or Namasseket (on Taunton River, in Middleborough, Mass.) 'at the fish place,' a favorite resort of the Indians of that region; Namaskeak, now Amoskeag, on the Merrimack, and Nam'skeket or Skeekeet, in Wellfleet, Mass. M'squammaug (Abn. mesk[oo]amÉk[oo]), 'red fish,' i.e. salmon, gave names to several localities. Misquamacuck or Squamicut, now Westerly, R.I., was 'a salmon place' of the Narragansetts. The initial m often disappears; and sometimes, so much of the rest of the name goes with it, that we can only guess at the original synthesis. 'Gonic,' a post office and railroad station, near Dover, N.H., on the Cocheco river, was once 'Squammagonic,'—and probably, a salmon-fishing place. KaÚposh (Abn. kabassÉ, plu. kabassak), 'sturgeon,' is a component of the name Cobbosseecontee, in Maine (page 26, ante), 'where sturgeons are plenty;' and Cobscook, an arm of Passamaquoddy Bay, Pembroke, Me., perhaps stands for kabassakhigÉ, 'sturgeon-catching place.' Aumsuog or Ommissuog (Abn. anms[oo]ak), 'small fish,'—especially alewives and herrings,—is a component of the name of the Abnaki village on the Kennebec, Anmes[oo]k-kantti; of Mattammiscontis, a tributary of the Kennebec (see p. 25, ante), and probably, of Amoscoggin and Amoskeag. QunnÔsu (pl. -suog; Abn. k[oo]n[oo]sÉ; Old Alg. kinonjÉ; Chip. keno´zha;) is found in the name of Kenosha, a town and county in Wisconsin; perhaps, in Kenjua or Kenzua creek and township, in Warren county, Pa. Quinshepaug or Quonshapauge, in Mendon, Mass., seems to denote a 'pickerel pond' (qunnosu-paug). MaskinongÉ, i.e. massa-kinonjÉ, 'great pike' or maskelunge, names a river and lake in Canada. Pescatum, said to mean 'pollock,' occurs as an adjectival in Peskadamioukkantti, the modern Passamaquoddy (p. 26). Nahanm[oo], the Abnaki name of the 'eel,' is found in "Nehumkeag, the English of which is Eel Land, ... a stream or brook that empties itself into Kennebec River," not far from Cobbissecontee. In view of the illustrations which have been given, we repeat what was stated in the beginning of this paper, that Indian place-names are not proper names, that is unmeaning marks, but significant appellatives, each conveying a description of the locality to which it belongs. In those parts of the country where Indian languages are still spoken, the analysis of such names is comparatively easy. Chippewa, Cree, or (in another family) Sioux-Dakota geographical names may generally be translated with as little difficulty as other words or syntheses in the same languages. In New England, and especially in our part of New England, the case is different. In Connecticut and Rhode Island special causes operated to corrupt and transform almost beyond possibility of recognition, many of the Indian place names. Five different dialects at least were spoken between Narragansett Bay and the Housatonic River, at the time of the first coming of the English. In early deeds and conveyances in the colonial and in local records, we find the same river, lake, tract of land or bound-mark named sometimes in the Muhhekan, sometimes in the Narragansett, or Niantic, or Nipmuck, or Connecticut valley, or Quinnipiac (Quiripee) dialect. The adopted name is often extra-limitary to the tribe by which it was given. Often, it is a mixture of, or a sort of compromise between, two dialects; half Muhhekan, half Narragansett or Nipmuck. In the form in which it comes to us, we can only guess from what language or languages it has been corrupted. The analysis of those names even whose composition appears to be most obvious must be accepted as provisional merely. The recovery of a lost syllable or of a lost guttural or nasal, the correction of a false accent even, may give to the synthesis another and hitherto unsuspected meaning. It would be surprising if some of the translations which have been hazarded in this paper do not prove to be wide of their Recent manifestations of an increasing interest in Indian onomatology, or at least of awakened curiosity to discover the meanings of Indian names, may perhaps justify the writer in offering, at the close of this paper, a few suggestions, as to the method of analysis which appears most likely to give correct results, and as to the tests by which to judge of the probability that a supposed translation of any name is the true one. 1. The earliest recorded form of the name should be sought for, and every variation from it should be noted. These should be taken so far as possible from original manuscripts, not from printed copies. 2. Where the difference of forms is considerable, knowledge of the character and opportunities of the writer may sometimes determine the preference of one form to others, as probably the most accurate. A Massachusetts or Connecticut name written by John Eliot or Experience Mayhew—or by the famous interpreter, Thomas Stanton—may safely be assumed to represent the original combination of sounds more exactly than the form given it by some town-recorder, ignorant of the Indian language and who perhaps did not always write or spell his own correctly. 3. The name should be considered with some reference to the topographical features of the region to which it belongs. These may sometimes determine the true meaning when the analysis is doubtful, or may suggest the meaning which would otherwise have been unsuspected under the modern form. 4. Remembering that every letter or sound had its value,—if, in the analysis of a name, it becomes necessary to get rid of a troublesome consonant or vowel by assuming it to have been introduced 'for the sake of euphony,'—it is probable that the interpretation so arrived at is not the right one. 5. The components of every place-name—or to speak more generally, the elements of every Indian synthesis are We meet with similar analyses in almost every published list of Indian names. Some examples have been given in 6. No interpretation of a place-name is correct which makes bad grammar of the original. The apparatus of Indian synthesis was cumbersome and perhaps inelegant, but it was nicely adjusted to its work. The grammatical relations of words were never lost sight of. The several components of a name had their established order, not dependent upon the will or skill of the composer. When we read modern advertisements of "cheap gentlemen's traveling bags" or "steel-faced carpenters' claw hammers," we may construe such phrases with a latitude which was not permitted to the Algonkins. If 'Connecticut' means—as some have supposed it to mean—'long deer place,' it denotes a place where long deer abounded; if 'Piscataqua' was named 'great deer river,' it was because the deer found in that river were of remarkable size. 'Coaquanock' or, as Heckewelder wrote it, 'Cuwequenaku,' the site of Philadelphia, may mean 'pine long-place' but cannot mean 'long pine-place' or 'grove of long pine trees.' If 'Pemigewasset' is compounded of words signifying 'crooked,' 'pines,' and 'place,' it denotes 'a place of crooked pines,'—not 'crooked place of pines.' Again—every Indian name is complete within itself. A mere adjectival or qualificative cannot serve independently, leaving the real ground-word to be supplied by the hearer. River names must contain some element which denotes 'river;' names of lakes or ponds something which stands for 'lake' or 'pond.' The Indians had not our fashion of speech which permits Hudson's River to be called 'the Hudson,' drops the word 'lake' from 'Champlain' or 'Erie,' and makes "the Alleghanies" a geographical name. This difference 7. The locative post-position, -et, -it or -ut, 8. Finally,—in the analysis of geographical names, differences of language and dialect must not be disregarded. In determining the primary meaning of roots, great assistance may be had by the comparison of derivatives in nearly related languages of the same stock. But in American languages, the diversity of dialects is even more remarkable than the identity and constancy of roots. Every tribe, almost every village had its peculiarities of speech. Names etymologically identical might have widely different meanings in two languages, or even in two nations speaking substantially the same language. The eastern Algonkin generic name for 'fish' (nÂma-us, Del. namai-s) is restricted by northern and western tribes to a single species, the sturgeon (Chip. namai´,) as the fish, par excellence. Attuk, in Massachusetts was the common fallow-deer,—in Canada and the north-west the caribou or reindeer. The Abnaki Indian called his dog (atiÉ) by a name which the Chippewa gives his horse (oti-un; n'di, my horse). |
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