To me this was a novel method of travelling. Steep ridges of hills on both sides of the river, about 300 feet above the surface of the water, and these covered with a profusion of timber, now clothed in all the variegated hues of autumn, form an avenue of the most magnificent description. For nearly the length of six miles, the surface of the water has all the smoothness of a mill-pond, which gave an additional effect to the scenery, but which imposed on me the labour of rowing incessantly. My boat, besides being without rudder, or even that short piece of keel in the after-part which is so essential in moving forward in a straight line, went on in a zig-zag direction, occasioning much trouble, and promising no great degree of safety on my coming into quick running water. At a rapid, six miles from Pittsburg, a boat has recently been stove. I saw the people on shore drying their goods. In this same rapid, my ill sailing bark put about broadside to the current. On reaching the lower extremity of the declivity, {68} my situation was rather alarming. Here the violence of the current being opposed by deeper and more placid water, produces a sort of heaving motion. The sidelong motion over this swelling surface, was much aggravated by a top-heavy load. Travellers are fortunate when they arrive early in the season, as the stream at that period propels a boat much quicker than the most laborious rowing can do now. After having passed several rapids, which are commonly called ripples in this country, I attempted to land for the night, on the head of Dead Man’s Island, a low bar covered with small willows, but found the water to be so shallow that I could not approach the dry ground, and that with a short rope, I could not effect a mooring to any log, bush, or fixed object. The possibility of an unforeseen rise of water in such a long river caused me to determine not to sleep aground, without being securely fastened. It was now nearly dark, and I judged it impossible to cross to the opposite shore to find a mooring, as the roaring of the Dead Man’s Ripple, (a furious rapid, between the island and the right hand shore,) convinced me that I was already almost within its draught. The only alternative which remained, was to push into the principal stream. I adopted it, and was soon carried through an impetuous winding channel, where I could perceive large dark-coloured masses, supposed to be rocks, above water, at small distances on each side. _October 15._ Last night I put ashore about half a mile below the Dead Man’s Ripple. The margin was of a convenient depth, admitting my lying aground, to avoid the danger of my leaky bark’s sinking in the night. Having made it fast to a log, and piled up my boxes toward the prow, and spread three pieces of board over the seats behind for a {69} bed, I covered the three hoops with a sheet for a canopy, laid down my portmanteau for a pillow, and wrapping myself in a blanket, I went to rest.