My schoolmates welcomed me by giving me a nick-name, and trying to pick a quarrel with me, which they also succeeded in doing, and before the end of the first day a drawn battle had been fought, after which they never troubled me again. The principal study in this school was Latin, early and late, to which was soon added German, and at the close of the second year, Greek, French, history, geography, and other common branches. I made rapid progress, was awarded a prize at my first examination, and finished the work of two classes in two years, only about half the usual time.
During those two years, and even before that time, I had a peculiar presentiment that I would have to make great mental and physical exertions in the future, and that it was necessary for me to prepare for whatever might happen. Therefore, I often chose the hard floor for my bed and a book for a pillow. At times I would take long walks without eating and drinking, and let my room-mates strike my chest with their fists until it was swollen and inflamed. I even tried how long I could go without food, and still not lose my mental and physical vigor.
When I was sixteen years old, an event took place which had a decisive influence on my whole life.
A captain of the army boarded at my father’s home, and was regarded as a member of the family. Among his acquaintances was a young man of my own age, who also had the same christian name as I. One day this young man came to see the captain, and as he approached the house my mother and sister observing him, both exclaimed at the same time, “There is Hans!” He heard this, and was greatly surprised that they knew him, while the fact was that they mistook him for me. At that time I was in the city, but the next day this second Hans visited me, and told me of the incident. If there is such a thing as affinity between men, it certainly existed between him and me; we felt ourselves irresistibly drawn towards each other, and from that day we have been more than brothers, and nothing but death can separate us. We are of the same size, complexion and age. He had already served a short time as cadet in the artillery, but had been compelled to resign on account of poor health. Now he had recovered and entered service again as a volunteer in the infantry. The events of my life are so closely interwoven with this man and his life, that the reader will often hear of him in these pages. Right here I wish to state, that a more faithful friend and a more noble character cannot be found; he has always been a help and a comfort to me in the many and strange vicissitudes which we have shared together. His name is Hans Eustrom, better known in Minnesota as Captain Eustrom.
The first Danish-German war broke out about this time, and I, with many other youths, felt a hearty sympathy for the Danes. The Swedish government resolved to send troops to help their neighbors, and a few regiments marching through our city fanned our youthful enthusiasm into flame. Finally, a detachment of the artillery, quartered in the city, was ordered to leave for the seat of war, and now I could no longer restrain myself, but besieged my parents to let me join that part of the army which was going to the battlefield, and to clinch the argument I was cruel enough to send word to my distressed mother that if she would not consent I would run away from home and join the army anyway. This last argument made her yield, and in the fall of 1849 I became an artillery cadet, being then in my seventeenth year. But although I won this victory over my mother, whose greatest desire was that I should become a clergyman, she in turn gained a victory over me by persuading the surgeon of the batallion, who was also our family physician, to declare me sick and send me to the hospital, although I had only a slight cold; thus my plan to go with the army to Schleswig-Holstein was frustrated. This did not make much difference, however, as the war was virtually closed before our troops arrived at the place of destination, and my time could now be more profitably employed in learning the duties of a soldier, and in taking a course of mathematics and other practical branches at the regimental school.
I remained in the army a year and a-half, during which time I received excellent instruction in gymnastics, fencing and riding, besides the regular military drill. Two winters were thus devoted to conscientious and thorough work at the military school.
Knowing that the chances for advancement in the Swedish army during times of peace were at this time very slim for young men not favored with titles of nobility, and being also tired of the monotonous garrison life, my friend Eustrom and myself soon resolved to leave the service and try our luck in a country where inherited names and titles were not the necessary conditions of success.
At that time America was little known in our part of the country, only a few persons having emigrated from the whole district. But we knew that it was a new country, inhabited by a free and independent people, that it had a liberal government and great natural resources, and these inducements were sufficient for us. My parents readily consented to my emigration, and, having made the necessary preparations, my father took my friend Eustrom and myself down to the coast with his own horses, in the first part of May, 1851. It was a memorable evening, and I shall never forget the last farewell to my home, in driving out from the court into the village street, how I stood up in the wagon, turned towards the dear home and waved my hat with a hopeful hurrah to the “folks I left behind.” A couple of days’ journey brought us to a little seaport, where we took leave of my father and boarded a small schooner for the city of Gothenburg.
At that time there were no ocean steamers and no emigrant agents; but we soon found a sailing vessel bound for America on which we embarked as passengers, furnishing our own bedding, provisions and other necessaries, which our mothers had supplied in great abundance. About one hundred and fifty emigrants from different parts of Sweden were on board the brig Ambrosius. In the middle of May she weighed anchor and glided out of the harbor on her long voyage across the ocean to distant Boston.
We gazed back at the vanishing shores of the dear fatherland with feelings of affection, but did not regret the step we had taken, and our bosoms heaved with boundless hope. At the age of eighteen, the strong, healthy youth takes a bright and hopeful view of life, and so did we. Many and beautiful were the air-castles we built as we stood on deck, with our eyes turned towards the promised land of the nineteenth century. To some of these castles our lives have given reality, others are still floating before us.