The branch we navigated today is almost five hundred yards wide.

The exhalations from the marshy soil produced a low fog although the sky above was perfectly clear.

In the course of the day we passed an Indian encampment of three tents whose inmates appeared to be in a still more miserable condition than those we saw yesterday.

They had just finished the ceremony of conjuration over some of their sick companions; and a dog which had been recently killed as a sacrifice to some deity was hanging to a tree where it would be left (I was told) when they moved their encampment.
We continued our voyage up the river to the 20th with little variation of scenery or incident, travelling in that time about thirty miles.

The near approach of winter was marked by severe frosts which continued all day unless when the sun chanced to be unusually bright and the geese and ducks were observed to take a southerly course in large flocks.