About six hundred yards above the mouth of Big Beaver Creek, my skiff ran upon the top of a large mass of stone under water, which the ripplings occasioned by a slight breeze of wind, prevented me from seeing. In attempting to push her off, she upset, so as to admit a gush of water all along the lower side. The hoops over her after part, not allowing me to leap directly upon the stone, I plunged into the water and mounted the stone just in time to catch the bark by the after part, and prevent it from being carried down by the stream. By a considerable exertion, I succeeded in keeping the after end close to the stone, while the fore part sunk obliquely to a great depth in the water. Here the cargo must unavoidably have slipped into the bottom of the river, except for a large box, that wedged itself into the narrow forepart of the boat, and the others, resting on it, were kept in their places. Two black men came in a skiff to my relief. They took me in, and rowed toward the shore, while I still retained my hold of the wreck, and succeeded in getting it safely moored. This interruption happened exactly before the door of a tavern, where I was accommodated with board, and the means of having my baggage dried. _Afternoon._ While exposing my books to the wind, a respectable looking man, apparently a farmer, entered into conversation with me. His inquiries {71} respecting the scientific and literary personages of Edinburgh, and his acquaintance with the poetry and provincial dialect of Scotland, were more minute than I could have expected in this part of the world. _October 16._ I have discovered that my skiff is too weak for carrying any considerable weight. It is so much strained, that many of the nails have their heads drawn half an inch out of the timber, and others much more. The misfortune of the 15th, has probably saved me from a worse one. The system of boat building at Pittsburg cannot be too strongly reprobated. Defects in caulking, in the number, and in the strength of the nails, were in the case of my boat, disgraceful[42] _October 19._ A farmer, in removing Indian corn from an island to his residence, had his flat sunk, and much of the cargo lost, within a few yards of the point where I stopped short. I am resolved on procuring a better skiff, and waiting a few days in hopes of a rise of water. Floods at or before this season of the year, are considered annual occurrences. The oldest residents recollect of only one year in which there was no autumnal rise of the Ohio.