Conhocton Creek, about twenty miles below Bath, falls into Tyoga River, which, after a course of about thirty miles, empties itself into the eastern branch of the River Susquehannah. During floods you may go down in light bateaux along the creek, Tyoga and Susquehannah rivers, the whole way from Bath to the Chesapeak Bay, without interruption; and in the fall of the year there is generally water sufficient for canoes from Bath downwards; but owing to the great drought that prevailed through every part of the country this year, the depth of water in the creek was found insufficient to float even a canoe of the smallest size. Had it been practicable, it was our intention to have proceeded from Bath by water; but finding that it was not, we once more set off on foot, and pursued our way along the banks of the river till we came to a small village of eight or ten houses, called Newtown, about thirty miles distant from Bath. Here we found the stream tolerably deep, and the people informed us, that excepting at one or two narrow shoals, they were certain that in every part of it, lower down, there was sufficient water for canoes; accordingly, determined to be our own watermen, being five in number including our servants, we purchased a couple of canoes from two farmers, who lived on the banks of the river, and having lashed them together, in order to render them more steady and safe, we put our baggage on board, and boldly embarked. [Sidenote: CANOES STRANDED.] It was about three o’clock on a remarkably clear though cold afternoon that we left the village, and the current being strong, we hoped to be able to reach before night a tavern, situated, as we were told, on the banks of the river, about six miles below Newtown. For the first two miles we got on extremely well; but beyond this the river proving to be much shallower than we had been led to believe, we found it a matter of the utmost difficulty to proceed. Our canoes repeatedly struck upon the shoals, and so much time was consumed in setting them again free, that before we had accomplished more than two thirds of our voyage the day closed. As night advanced a very sensible change was observable in the weather; a heavy shower of hail came pouring down, and, involved in thick darkness, whilst the moon was obscured by a cloud, our canoes were drifted by the current, to which, being unable to see our way, we had consigned them, on a bank in the middle of the river. In endeavouring to extricate ourselves we unfortunately, owing to the darkness, took a wrong direction, and at the end of a few minutes found our canoes so firmly wedged in the gravel that it was impossible to move them. Nothing now remained to be done but for every one of us to jump into the water, and to put his shoulder to the canoes. This we accordingly did, and having previously unlashed, in order to render them more manageable, we in a short time contrived to haul one of them into deep water; here,