In due time we reached Whitehall, at the head of Lake Champlain, and the big box in Uncle’s wagon proved so heavy over the muddy roads that he put it in a canal boat to be sent on to Cleveland, and we found it much easier after this for there were too many mud-holes, stumps and stones and log bridges for so heavy a load as he had.  Our road many times after this led along near the canal, the Champlain or the Erie, and I had a chance to see something of the canal boys’ life.  The boy who drove the horses that drew the packet boat was a well dressed fellow and always rode at a full trot or a gallop, but the freight driver was generally ragged and barefoot, and walked when it was too cold to ride, threw stones or clubs at his team, and cursed and abused the packet-boy who passed as long as he was in hearing.  Reared as I had been I thought it was a pretty wicked part of the world we were coming to.

We passed one village of low cheap houses near the canal.  The men about were very vulgar and talked rough and loud, nearly every one with a pipe, and poorly dressed, loafing around the saloon, apparently the worse for whisky.  The children were barefoot, bare headed and scantly dressed, and it seemed awfully dirty about the doors of the shanties.  Pigs, ducks and geese were at the very door, and the women I saw wore dresses that did not come down very near the mud and big brogan shoes, and their talk was saucy and different from what I had ever heard women use before.  They told me they were Irish people—­the first I had ever seen.  It was along here somewhere that I lost my little whip and to get another one made sad inroads into the little purse of pennies my father gave me.  We traveled slowly on day after day.  There was no use to hurry for we could not do it.  The roads were muddy, the log ways very rough and the only way was to take a moderate gait and keep it.  We never traveled on Sunday.  One Saturday evening my uncle secured the privilege of staying at a well-to do farmer’s house until Monday.  We had our own food and bedding, but were glad to get some privileges in the kitchen, and some fresh milk or vegetables.  After all had taken supper that night they all sat down and made themselves quiet with their books, and the children were as still as mice till an early bed time when all retired.  When Sunday evening came the women got out their work—­their sewing and their knitting, and the children romped and played and made as much noise as they could, seeming as anxious to break the Sabbath as they had been to have a pious Saturday night.  I had never seen that way before and asked my uncle who said he guessed they were Seventh Day Baptists.

After many days of travel which became to me quite monotonous we came to Cleveland, on Lake Erie, and here my uncle found his box of goods, loaded it into the wagon again, and traveled on through rain and mud, making very slow headway, for two or three days after, when we stopped at a four-corners in Medina county they told us we were only 21 miles from Cleveland.  Here was a small town consisting of a hotel, store, church, schoolhouse and blacksmith shop, and as it was getting cold and bad, uncle decided to go no farther now, and rented a room for himself and aunt, and found a place for me to lodge with Daniel Stevens’ boy close by.  We got good stables for our horses.