There are three rivers of much greater magnitude than the rest; the Bolchoireka, or Great River, so called from _bolchoia_, which signifies great, and _reka_, a river; the river Kamtschatka, and the Awatska. The first empties itself into the sea of Okotsk, and is navigable for the Russian galliots upward of five leagues from its mouth, or within nine miles of Bolcheretsk, a town situated at the conflux of the Goltsoffka and the Bistraia, which here lose themselves in the Bolchoireka. The Bistraia itself is no inconsiderable river. It derives its source from the same mountain with the river Kamtschatka, and, by taking a direct contrary course, affords the Kamtschadales the means of transporting their goods by water, in small canoes, almost across the whole peninsula. The river Kamtschatka, after maintaining a course of near three hundred miles from south to north, winds round to the eastward, in which direction it empties itself into the ocean, a little to the southward of Kamtschatkoi Noss. Near the mouth of the Kamtschatka, to the north-west, lies the great lake called Nerpitsch, from _nerpi_, a Kamtschadale word signifying a seal, with which this lake abounds. About twenty miles up the river, reckoning from the mouth of the lake, is a fort called Nishnei Kamtschatska _ostrog_, where the Russians have built an hospital and barracks, and which, we were informed, is become the principal mart in this country. The river Awatska arises from the mountains situated between the Bolchoireka and the Bistraia, and running, from north-west to south-east, a course of one hundred miles, falls into the bay of Awatska. The Tigil is likewise a river of considerable size, rising amidst some very high mountains, which lie under the same parallel with Kamtschatkoi Noss, and, running in an even course from south-east to north-west, falls into the sea of Okotsk. All the other rivers of this peninsula, which are almost infinite in number, are too small to deserve a particular enumeration. If I may judge of the soil from what I saw of its vegetable productions, I should not hesitate in pronouncing it barren in the extreme. Neither in the neighbourhood of the bay, nor in the country I traversed on my journey to Bolcheretsk, nor in any of our hunting expeditions, did I ever meet with the smallest spot of ground that resembled what in England is called a good green turf, or that seemed as if it could be turned to any advantage, either in the way of pasturage, or other mode of cultivation. The face of the country in general was thinly covered with stunted trees, having a bottom of moss, mixed with low weak heath. The whole bore a more striking resemblance to Newfoundland than to any other part of the world I had ever seen.