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.