The Workers: An Experiment in Reality. The WestWyckoff, Walter A. (Walter Augustus)
History
The Workers: An Experiment in Reality. The West
Wyckoff, Walter A. (Walter Augustus)
Unemployed -- United States; Working class -- United States
there were so many and such various chances of successful and honorable
career.
In leaving Mr. Barton’s farm I found much the same external conditions
as those with which I had grown familiar ever since I left Chicago.
It was a rich agricultural region, and was inhabited throughout this
section in curious, clearly defined communities. In one quarter
was a German settlement, and in another a Norwegian, and a Swedish
settlement in a third, while I heard of a French colony as a curiosity
in another direction, and even an organization of Quakers. But there
were native-born Americans in plenty, and chiefly of New England
antecedents, as I found in my chance acquaintance with farmers by
the way, and from observations of such a charming town as Algona, in
northern Iowa, where I spent several days. On every hand it was borne
in upon one, not merely from what appeared but from the invariable
assurances of those who have lived long in the region, that among the
foreign population no fact is more thoroughly established than that of
its swift assimilation. So swift and sure a process is this said to
be that the children born upon the soil, of immigrant parentage, seem
to lose certain physical characteristics which would link them to an
alien ancestry, and to take on others which approximate to recognized
American types. Their children, in turn, are said to be natives of
established character; but of them all none surpasses the first-comers,
when once they are settled and grown familiar with our institutions,
in a stanch, honest conservatism and in a loyal, patriotic devotion to
their adopted country.
It was nearly the end of July when I reached Council Bluffs. I was
well worn with walking, for the last two hundred miles I had covered
in six days’ march, and I was glad enough to stop for a time. But I
did not wish to stop there, for my letters for several weeks past had
been forwarded to Omaha, and were now awaiting me across the river.
Unluckily for me, there was a five-cent toll for foot-passengers on the
bridge, and I had only one cent left.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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