Many creeks and inlets, bays and rivers, intersect the coast. Three of the last, dividing the colony into as many parts, I shall particularly notice. They all run from north to south.
The eastern river is called the Thames, as far as it is navigable, which is only to Norwich, fourteen miles from its mouth. Then dividing, the greatest branch, called Quinnibaug, rolls rapidly from its source 100 miles distant through many towns and villages, to their great pleasantness and profit. On it are many mills
and iron-works, and in it various kinds of fish, but no salmon, for want of proper places to nourish their spawn.
The middle river is named Connecticut, after the great Sachem to whom that part of the province through which it runs belonged. This vast river is five hundred miles long, and four miles wide at its mouth; its channel, or inner banks, in general, half a mile wide. It takes its rise from the White Hills, in the north of New-England, where also springs the river Kennebec. About five hundred rivulets, which issue from lakes, ponds, and drowned lands, fall into it; many of them are larger than the Thames at London. In March, when the rains and sun melt the snow and ice, each stream is overcharged, and kindly hastens to this great river, to overflow, fertilize, and preserve its trembling meadows. They lift enormous cakes of ice, bursting from their frozen beds, with threatening intentions of ploughing up the frighted earth, and carry them rapidly down the falls, where they are dashed in pieces and rise in mist. Except at these falls, of which there are five the first sixty miles from its mouth, the river is navigable throughout. In its northern part are three great bendings, called Cohosses, about one hundred miles asunder. Two hundred miles from the Sound is a narrow of five yards only, formed by two shelving mountains of solid rock, whose tops intercept the clouds. Through this chasm are compelled to pass all the waters which, in the time of the floods, bury the northern country.
At the upper Cohos the river spreads twenty-four miles wide. For five or six weeks ships of war might
sail over the lands that afterward produce the greatest crops of hay and grain in all America. People who can bear the sight, the groans, the tremblings, and surly motion of water, trees, and ice, through this awful passage, view with astonishment one of the greatest phenomenons in Nature. Here, water consolidated without frost, by pressure, by swiftness, between the pinching, sturdy rocks, to such a degree of induration that an iron crow cannot be forced into it; here, iron, lead, and cork, have one common weight; here, steady as time, and harder than marble, the stream passes irresistible, if not swift as lightning; the electric fire rends trees in pieces with no greater ease than does this mighty water. The passage is about four hundred yards in length, and of a zigzag form, with obtuse corners.[32]
At high water are carried through this straight masts and other timber with incredible swiftness, and sometimes with safety; but when the water is too low, the masts, timber, and trees, strike on one side or the other, and, though of the largest size, are rent, in one moment, into shivers, and splintered like a broom, to the amazement of spectators. The meadows, for many miles below, are covered with immense quantities of wood thus torn in pieces, which compel the hardiest travellers to reflect, how feeble is man, and how great that Almighty who formed the lightnings, thunders, and the irresistible power and strength of waters!
No living creature was ever known to pass through this narrow, except an Indian woman, who was, in a canoe, attempting to cross the river above it, but carelessly suffered herself to fall within the power of the current. Perceiving her danger, she took a bottle of rum she had with her, and drank the whole of it; then lay down in her canoe, to meet her destiny. She marvellously went through safely, and was taken out of the canoe some miles below, quite intoxicated, by some Englishmen. Being asked how she could be so daringly imprudent as to drink such a quantity of rum with the
prospect of instant death before her, the squaw, as well as her condition would let her, replied, “Yes, it was too much rum for once, to be sure; but I was not willing to lose a drop of it: so I drank it, and you see I have saved all.”
Some persons assert that salmon have been caught above this narrow, while others deny it. Many have observed salmon attempt to pass in the time of floods, which certainly is the best and likeliest time, as, from the height of the water, and the shelving of the rocks, the passage is then broader; but they were always thrown back, and generally killed. It is not to be supposed that any fish could pass with the stream alive. Above this narrow there is plenty of fish both in summer and winter, which belong to the lakes or ponds that communicate with the river: below it are the greatest abundance and variety caught or known in North-America. No salmon are found in any river to the westward of this.