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 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 my future efforts at colonisation--my depot and port
entry. I should have inquired had I found any one to inquire _from_;
but, for ten miles along the road, I encountered not a human creature.
Then only a "darkey" with an ox-cart loaded with wood; but, despairing
of information from such a source, I declined detaining him. The only
intelligence I was able to draw from the negro was that; "da `city' o'
Swampville, massr, he lay 'bout ten mile furrer down da crik." The "ten
mile down da crik" proved to be long ones; but throughout the whole
distance I saw not a creature, until I had arrived within a mile or so
of the "settlement!"
I had been already apprised that Swampville was a new place. Its fame
had not yet reached the eastern world; and even in Nashville was it
unknown, except, perhaps, to the Land-Office. It was only after
entering the Reserve, that I became fully assured of its existence; and
there it was known as a "settlement" rather than a "city." For all
that, Swampville proved to be not so contemptible a place; and the
reason I had encountered so little traffic, while approaching it, was
that I had been coming in the _wrong direction_--in other words, I had
approached it _from behind_.
Swampville was in reality a _riverine_ town. To it the east was a
_back_ country; and its front face was to the west. In that direction
lay its world, and the ways that opened to it. Log-shanties began to
line the road--standing thicker as I advanced; while at intervals,
appeared a "frame-house" of more pretentious architecture. In front of
one of these--the largest of the collection--there stood a tall post; or
rather a tree with its top cut off, and divested of its lower branches.
On the head of this was a "martin-box"; and underneath the dwelling of
the birds, a broad framed board, on which was legible the word "Hotel."
A portrait of Jackson, done in "continental uniform," embellished the
face of the board. The sign seemed little appropriate: for in the harsh
features of "Old Hickory" there was but slight promise of hospitality.
It was no use going farther. The "Jackson Hotel" was evidently the
"head inn" of the place; and without pause or parley, I dismounted at
its door.
I was too well used to western habits to wait either for welcome or
assistance--too careful of my Arab to trust him to hands unskilled--and
I did the unsaddling for myself. A half-naked negro gave me some slight
help in the "grooming" process--all the while exhibiting his ivories and
the whites of his eyes in an expression of ill-concealed astonishment,
produced apparently by the presence of my uniform coat--to the "darkey,"
no doubt, an uncommon apparition.