So far from that being the case, I understand that, for weeks and months even, it is constantly fordable.

As late as the 23rd of November, the large passage-boats were unable to make regular passages, owing to their so frequently getting aground; and the consequence was, that we were doomed to prosecute our journey to Cincinnati by railroad, to my infinite--but, as my friend said, not inexpressible--regret.
Noon found us at the station, taking the last bite of fresh air before we entered the travelling oven.

Fortunately, the weather was rather finer than it had been, and more windows were open.

There is something solemn and grand in traversing, with the speed of the wind, miles and miles of the desolate forest.

Sometimes you pass a whole hour without any--the slightest--sign of animal life: not a bird, nor a beast, nor a being.