My brother who was nearly sixteen years old soon obtained steady work from an American farmer, while my father and I had to do different kinds of work, such as building fences, stacking grain, etc. The only pay we could get was checks on some store. I remember what an abundance of provisions there was in that locality, and nobody seemed to be in need.
A farmer near Galesburg, for whom I worked a week, had so many hens and chickens and eggs, that when people came out from town to buy eggs, they were told to pay ten cents, go out to the barn and fill their baskets with freshly-laid eggs, no matter how big the basket. Beef and pork had scarcely any value, and anybody could go into a cornfield that fall and gather a crop on half shares.
There was much religious interest among the Swedes in Illinois at that time. The Methodists and Lutherans were already building churches, and held services side by side in many of the towns and settlements, although they numbered only a few families yet. I remember distinctly one Sunday attending service in a Methodist church listening to an eloquent preacher, taking for his text “The Broad and the Narrow Ways.” He depicted both in glowing language, and wound up with the following words, pronounced in a broad (Swedish) dialect: “My dear brethren, I have now shown you the two ways, and you may take which ever you like; that is all the same to me.”
My father had taken with him only just enough money to pay his way, although he had by no means exhausted his resources in Sweden, for he had prudently decided to spend at least a year in seeing the country and making himself familiar with its institutions, customs, manner of tilling the soil, etc. At this time he was a strong man, at the age of fifty. In order to obtain steady work, we two, and a few others of our company, hired a man in Galesburg to take us to Rock River, where a bridge for the Chicago & Rock Island Railroad was being built. We all got work, and had to take hold of the spade and the shovel. The wages in those days for railroad laborers were from seventy-five cents to one dollar per day. I received only seventy-five cents, out of which my board was to be paid, which, however, was very cheap, one dollar and a half per week only. A Swede by the name of Hoffman kept a boarding house for thirty-four of us, and all would have been well except for the ague. No man remained there many days without getting the “shakes;” I and my father got them the second day. The lower part of the shanty in which we boarded was used for dining-room and kitchen, the upper for sleeping on the floor. The shanty was as shaky as the ague, which came regularly every other day. Fate had so arranged it that seventeen of us had the chills one day, and seventeen the next day. Hoffman and his wife fortunately also had the chills alternate days, so that there was always one to attend to the cooking.
Some may doubt it, but it is a solemn fact, that when seventeen ate dinner below, the shaking of those upstairs sometimes shook the house until we could hear the plates rattling on the table.
During my healthy days I stood on the bottom of Rock River from seven o’clock in the morning until seven at night, throwing wet sand with a shovel onto a platform above, from which it was again thrown to another, and from there to terra firma. The most disagreeable part of the business was that one-quarter of each shovel-full came back on the head of the operator.
After a couple of weeks the company’s paymaster came along, and upon settling my board bill and deducting for the shaking days, I made the discovery that I was able to earn only fifteen cents net per week in building railroad bridges.
Being half dead by this time from over work and sickness, we decided to see if we could strike an easier job, and, if possible, a better climate. We happened to meet a farmer by the name of Peterson, with whom we rode to a place near Moline, where my father tended to me during my illness. When he was not occupied with this he chopped cord wood from dry old trees. I also tried to assist him in this, but found my strength gone.
Among the Swedes living in Moline at that time was a tailor, Johnson by name, a good kind-hearted man who, together with his wife, was always ready to aid his needy countrymen and get something to do for such as could work. I went to him one day to ask for advice or assistance, just as a great many had done before me. I was so weak and sickly that they had to assist me in getting into the house, but they received me as if I had been their own son, and, after a short rest, Mr. Johnson took me to one Dr. Ober, who carefully investigated my mental as well as my physical condition, and told me that such hard work as I had been doing would kill me, and that I ought to rest and take it easy. He was one of those magnanimous, noble men who are to be met with in all climes and walks of life, but who are easily recognized because they are so few. As I have said before, I have been very fortunate in getting acquainted with the best men and women of different classes and nations with which I have come in contact. While we were sitting in his reception room the doctor suddenly left us and went into his private room. In a short time he returned accompanied by his wife, a lady whose silvery locks and benignantly sympathizing looks made her seem more beautiful to me than a madonna. Having simply taken a hasty look at me, the doctor and his wife again withdrew, and when they returned he offered to let me stay with them like a member of the family in order that he might try to restore my health; he also allowed me to avail myself of his library and to attend school, the only condition being that I should do chores around the house and take care of the horses.
I moved the same day, got a pleasant room and a snug bed, good, substantial food, and, above all, good and friendly treatment, so that from the time I came there until the day I left, I felt as if I had been a child of the house. Dr. Ober, who was a religious man, belonged to the Baptist Church, and as I now lived under its beneficient influence, and also became acquainted with the Swedish Baptist Pastor, Rev. G. Palmquist, and a few others who constituted the nucleus of the First Swedish Baptist Church of America. I became a member of their society before spring and would probably have continued a member of this denomination, if circumstances which were beyond my control, had not brought me to other fields of action and other surroundings.