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.