Some current sites carry the same meaning as their Indian forerunners, such as Big Stone Lake; In-Yan Tan-Kin-Kin-Yan means "Lake of the Large Stones" in Dakota. Or they have the same basic pronunciation, as with the river the Ojibwa called Misi Zibi. But most of the Native place names had different connotations, some more mystical, others more practical. Some examples from Paul Durand's research:

• The Dakota dubbed a small point at the entrance of Wayzata Bay Wa-Na-Gi Pa-Zo-Dan, "Spirit of the Small Hill," where the ghost of a mother whose only child drowned nearby was said to wail at midnight.

• The Le Sueur River was called Can Ka-Sna-Sna Wa-Kpa, Dakota for "River of the Branchless Trees," possibly attributable to flooding from beaver dams.

• White Bear Lake was Ma-To Mde, Dakota for "Lake of the Polar Bear," where an Indian maiden reputedly was attacked by a huge white bear. Note the resemblance to the name of a current town on the lake.

• The Dakota called the waterfalls at Hastings O-Wo-Bo-Pte Ha-Ha, the "Falls Where Turnips Have Been Dug."

• The Rum River was named Mdo-te Mi-Ni-Wa-Kan Wa-Kpa ("Spirit River") by the Dakota and Ishkode Wabo Zibi ("Firewater River") by the Ojibwa.

• A small stream near Milaca, Minn., bore the lyrical Ojibwa name Manitowigiwaming Zibiwishe, "The Brook of God's Wigwam."

• The Ojibwa called a pair of lakes west of Mille Lacs Pequishino Sagaiigun, or "Hump as Made by a Man Lying on His Hands and Knees."

• The translation of the Ojibwa term for a Kanabec County lake, Mooshkine Gigu Sagaiigun, provided the current name: "Full of Fish Lake."

• The swamps of Renville and Sibley counties were dubbed Ou Ills Chassent les Rats Musques, French for "Where They Hunt the Muskrats."

• Mi-Ni So-Ta, by the way, is Dakota for "Translucent Waters," which hardly applies to the river bearing that name nowadays.

BILL WARD