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.
As I neither saw any light, nor heard the voice of a human being, I imagined that I was far from the neighbourhood of any house. The only sounds that saluted my ear, arose from bells attached to cows in the woods, and from the breakers produced by the Ripple. The sheet which served me for a roof, was not long enough to reach the sides of the boat, a cold wind that blew down the river, passed in a constant current through my lodgment, and for a considerable time prevented me from sleeping. About midnight I heard the noise of footsteps approaching me on the gravel, and looked out to see what my visitor might be: a faint glimmering of moon-light enabled me to discover the white face of a young cow that had come down to drink.
It would be imprudent to sleep ashore and leave goods in a boat on the river, boatmen being much blamed for stealing.
I put off about seven o'clock in the morning. A continuation of the same ridges of hills, and the same woods, bounded the view on both sides of the river. The bottom land is narrow, and the parts which have been cleared are chiefly covered with crops of Indian corn. Bottom land is of two sorts; the lower by the margin of the river; and
