I worked as drug salesman for some time, when I had the misfortune to catch a very bad cold, which turned into pneumonia. It was about four weeks before I could walk again. My wife and the boys pulled me through in spite of the doctor, who said, “Wire for his people.” Some cousins of my wife, who farmed near Iowa City, invited us to come and stay with them till I was strong again, and so as soon as I could toddle we went to them. I had never written home what my life in Chicago was, as, having married so young contrary to my people’s wishes, I was determined to make my living, if possible, without aid. But when the doctor told my wife that my days were over, she wired Mr. Bole in New York to cable home, and he sent her funds to meet expenses and to take us both to Iowa City. Chicago is, I believe, the coldest city in America in the winter, and the hottest in summer, but a splendid business town, with large opportunities for a young man. And when I hear men tell me that they can’t get a job and have to beg, it makes me hostile; for I know that a healthy single man need never go hungry if he is willing to work, though he may not always get the kind of job he fancies. This is, of course, during ordinary times. The fall and winter of 1893 were exceptional, for when I left Chicago in November of that year it was estimated that there were 200,000 men out of employment in a city which had a normal population of about one million and a quarter, though it was much inflated at the time. The churches were opened for them to sleep in, and soup kitchens established all over the city that winter, and the police and railroad men bothered no one who chose to leave town in a “side-door Pullman” (baggage wagon), as they were only too glad to see the last of them. There was some little rioting, but, on the whole, they were all honest labourers out of a job, and only seeking food. For this they were willing to work, and the city put enormous gangs to work cleaning snow off the streets, so that the feeding, &c., should not look like charity. Of course this attitude of the railway was exceptional. Stowaways, when discovered, are generally thrown out promptly. They are accustomed to it, so seldom come to harm. Out West, freight trainsmen are sometimes very civil in picking up persons who “flag” them on the prairie. They will not, however, always stop to “set-down,” but at ordinary “freight” pace on the prairie lines it is possible to jump without affording the trainsmen the fun of somersaults. CHAPTER VIII Hard Times—Health restored—Rabbit-catching—Hunting in Iowa—A Gentleman Tramp—The Hobo Business—Free Travelling.