Unto A Good Land

by Vilhelm Moberg

  The travelers could now rest for a few days until their belongings arrived. The men helped Anders Månsson harvest his crop. His fields were smaller than they had realized; he had broken barely eight acres. He owned a team of oxen and two cows as well. But he would only keep one cow for the winter; he intended to butcher the other one, for she was too old to breed. Each time he milked his cows all four women came to watch him: they had never before seen a man do the milking.

  As soon as the news spread of the arrival of guests at Anders Månsson’s, the two other Swedes in the settlement came to visit the immigrants from their homeland. Samuel Nöjd, the fur hunter, was a friendly, talkative man of about fifty, but he mixed so many English words with the Swedish that they understood only half of what he said. He had been in North America more than ten years, he had moved from place to place, and soon he would move away from this river valley: desirable fur-bearing animals were getting scarce hereabouts. He advised his countrymen to take land on the prairies instead of here.

  Swedish Anna was in her forties, a buxom woman with big arms and a voluminous bosom. She was the picture of health, capable and unafraid, as a woman cooking for men in a logging camp should be. She showed also a tender, motherly side: she was much concerned over the small Swedish children and was surprised that the babies could have survived the long journey in such good health. Swedish Anna was a widow who had emigrated alone from Östergötland; Samuel Nöjd came from Dalecarlia.

  Counting the new arrivals, there were now immigrants from four Swedish provinces in this valley; and the Smålanders, of course, were in the majority.

  The newcomers were eager for information and at every opportunity questioned those who had arrived earlier: How was life for settlers in this St. Croix Valley, and how should they go about the business of getting settled? Anders Månsson, himself a homesteader, could best advise them; but he was a man of few words; much probing was required to learn anything from him. This much they discovered: The Territory was almost as large as all of Sweden, yet hardly more than two hundred settlers had taken up land and begun tilling it. Most of these lived to the south in Washington County. The Territory was as yet surveyed only along the rivers. To the west and southwest the whole country was still unsurveyed and unclaimed—it lay there free and open to the first claimant.

  There was indeed space for all, land in abundance. But many of the inhabitants of the river valley took land only for the timber, said Anders Månsson. They did not clear fields, they cut down the forest and sold the lumber for a high profit. They left the soil untouched and grew rich from the forest. Most of the newcomers had only one desire: to get rich quickly.

  The farmers from Ljuder said they had not come for that purpose. They were merely seeking to earn a living, they intended to break land, build houses, settle down: they had come to live on their land as settlers of this country, where they hoped in time to better their condition.

  But they must begin from the very beginning and find everything a farmer needed, ground and house, chattel and cattle. And they were filled with concern at learning how much livestock cost: a cow, thirty dollars, a yoke of oxen, one hundred dollars. Hogs and poultry also fetched sky-high prices; Anders Månsson had only recently bought a laying hen in St. Paul for five dollars, but she had died of loneliness, and so he was unable to treat them to eggs. The exorbitant prices were explained in this way: domestic animals were also immigrants into the Territory, and as rare as the settlers themselves.

  One evening, as all were gathered together in Anders Månsson’s cabin, Karl Oskar asked his advice: What should a man in his predicament do? He had sold his farm in Sweden, but most of the money had been spent on the journey, and he was now practically a pauper. He had only ninety dollars left in cash. A farmer needed first of all a team of oxen, and he didn’t even have enough money for that! And how could he buy land with the small sum he had left?

  “You don’t pay for the land before it’s put on the market,” Anders Månsson explained. “To begin with, you must sit down on the claim as a squatter.”

  And he explained what the word squatter meant—a settler who built his house on land that had not yet been surveyed or sold. That was why he needn’t pay anything for the claim to begin with. Later, when the land had been surveyed, the government would put it up at auction and he would have priority because he had been there first. Anyone wanting to take a claim as squatter need only locate and mark the place he wanted and report it to the land office in Stillwater. Then he could remain in security on the land until it was offered for public sale. It might be several years before he need begin paying for the land.

  This arrangement sounded generous to Swedish peasant ears—no one could ask for better conditions.

  “I came here as a squatter myself,” said Fina-Kajsa’s son. “To squat means to sit on one’s haunches.”

  “Skvatter . . . skvatter . . .” Karl Oskar attempted to pronounce the word, but its sound had something degrading in it, it sounded like a reproach to his poverty. “Yes, I guess I too must be such a one. An impoverished farmer, arriving in America . . .”

  The other two farmers were better off than he; Danjel had four hundred dollars left from the sale of his farm Kärragärde, and Jonas Petter had about two hundred and fifty dollars left of his traveling money. Karl Oskar had the least for a new start. But Anders Månsson advised all three to take squatters’ claims on unsurveyed land, then they could use their cash for livestock and implements. Each settler could claim a hundred and sixty acres, the American acre being a little less than the Swedish acre.

  Karl Oskar thought: The manor at Kråkesjö at home had only seventy-five acres of tilled fields. If all the land he could take here were tillable, he would have fields for two manors!

  Anders Månsson also told them the price they would have to pay when the land went on sale: one dollar and twenty-five cents for each acre. This sounded like a most reasonable price for such rich and fertile land as they had seen on their walk from Stillwater. A farmer would undoubtedly be able to manage and prosper here as soon as he got started.

  Anders Månsson continued: All products from the fields commanded high prices: bread, butter, pork, milk, eggs, cheese. Consequently, broken ground was highly valuable. If they were able to clear and plant the fields, and hold on to them, they would soon be well off. He himself had experienced great adversity during the four years after his arrival; the first summer his crop had suffered from drought, the second year a forest fire had spread to his fields and part of his rye had burned while in the shocks; last year it was the grasshoppers, which appeared in such swarms that they darkened the sun and left nothing but bare ground behind them. Each fifth year was a hopper year, when every green blade was eaten, and last summer they had even devoured his jacket and the scythe handle which he happened to leave in the field; he could only be grateful they hadn’t eaten him too.

  Karl Oskar had closely inspected Månsson’s fields and he did not think the Ölander was an industrious farmer; he had suffered adversity, yes—but why hadn’t he broken more land in four years? All he had to do was to plow this stone-free ground. Nor had he built a threshing barn as yet, in spite of all the lumber around him. Månsson threshed his crops in wintertime on the ice of the small lake. But that was a poor way to handle grain. Karl Oskar thought something must be wrong with Fina-Kajsa’s son, he seemed to lack energy and an enterprising spirit.

  “The first years are hard ones for settlers,” Anders Månsson assured them. He continued: There were no roads anywhere out here in the wilderness, and it was not until last year that he had been able to buy a yoke of oxen in St. Paul. Before he got the team his chores had been endless; he himself had carried or pulled everything that had to be moved. A settler without a team had to use his own back, be his own beast of burden.

  Fina-Kajsa looked searchingly at her son: “You’ve grown hunchbacked here in America, Anders. Have you carried something that was too heavy?”

  “No longer, Mother
. I carry nothing more now.”

  He straightened his bent shoulders. Then he sat silent a while and replied only in monosyllables as they tried to glean more information about his four settler years. He seemed to avoid their questions and said at last, in an effort to clarify everything to them: He had had his difficulties at times, but he had managed, one way or another.

  Jonas Petter questioned him to the very point: “Do you regret your emigration?”

  “Oh no, nej! Never! I don’t mean that!” he assured them eagerly. “I have no such thoughts any longer.”

  “I think you have been ailing, you look so old,” Fina-Kajsa said.

  “The weather here is hard on one’s health,” the son exclaimed quickly. “If you intend to stay long in Minnesota Territory, it is well to take care of your health from the very beginning. I was sick the two first summers because I hadn’t taken care of myself.”

  The first year he had felt lonely in America, and his thoughts had returned to Sweden at times. But the second year he had begun to like the country, and the third year he actually felt at home, and ever since, he had liked it more and more; in every respect the new country was better than the old.

  And now he would soon get his American papers and become a “sitter.” “Sitter” was Anders Månsson’s word for citizen.

  “I have already got my first najonal-paper.”

  From his Swedish chest Anders Månsson produced a large paper, which he proudly showed his guests, but as it was printed in English, only Robert was able to glean some of its contents. They would all in due time get such papers, and then they too would become “sitters” in North America.

  Anders Månsson’s house guests understood plainly that he was unwilling to tell all of what had happened to him out here. He was a taciturn man and seemed to have a secret, something that weighed on his mind.

  The newcomers hoped to profit by the experience of those who had come before them. Already they were aware that their own problems would be greater because they had arrived at this inopportune season; it would be a whole year before they could harvest anything from the earth. Somehow they must sustain life during this long year of waiting; above all, they must manage to live through the winter.

  —2—

  In time their belongings arrived at Taylors Falls, having been freighted by the lumber company’s barge; but they were dismayed at the great cost: thirty dollars! Karl Oskar, Danjel, and Jonas Petter must pay ten dollars each.

  “Those dirty dogs!” exclaimed Karl Oskar, but aside from voicing his disgust he could do nothing about the price.

  Anders Månsson was of the opinion that the lumber company took advantage of settlers as often as possible. A barrel of flour cost ten dollars in Stillwater, and fifteen in Taylors Falls, because the company charged five dollars for freight.

  But the settlers had waited impatiently for their goods; now they had their own tools and needn’t wait another day to go out and find land; without delay they must seek out their places for settling.

  The clothes chests from Sweden were opened. Karl Oskar first of all dug up his axes from the bottom of his chest.

  “You have two axes!” Anders Månsson exclaimed in surprise. “Then you are not poor.”

  Karl Oskar had only brought along one heavy ax and one hand ax. He still had no felling ax.

  “If you have an ax all your own you are ahead of the rest of us.”

  The settlers often owned an ax together, using it in turn, every second day, or every second week, according to agreement. Sometimes three might own one ax together. Anders Månsson knew a settler who had owned no tools except a knife and one-half of an ax when he arrived. Seeing all the tools Karl Oskar had brought from Sweden, he said with respect in his voice: A well-off man has arrived here.

  Fina-Kajsa’s son had promised to go with them and point out places suitable to settle on. It was decided that Arvid and Robert should remain at home with the women and children while the men were away looking for land. Following their guide’s advice, they now made themselves ready for the expedition: they took food for three days, and each carried a copper container of water, as it was said they might get chills and fever from the stagnant water in the forest. Besides axes, they took their guns. In these regions no one went far from home without a weapon of some kind, and a settler was as much dependent on his loaded gun as a limping man is on his staff.

  They were to walk through regions where Indians had their favorite hunting grounds; as yet their fall hunt hadn’t begun, but they moved their wigwams constantly and had no permanent camp. Anders Månsson had never been annoyed by the Chippewas, the tribe roaming in the forests near Taylors Falls; during the winter, Indians often came into his cabin to warm themselves, and they sat hours on end by the fire without saying a single word. Many times they had brought him venison. But the savages were never to be relied on; no one knew what they might do, or when they had murder on their minds. A trader, James Godfrey by name, living alone in his cabin not far from Taylors Falls, had been scalped by the Indians one night last winter as he lay in bed. It was thought that the trader had taken advantage of the Indians in some deal and that they had murdered him in revenge. The Chippewas never disturbed anyone unless they themselves had been disturbed or cheated.

  So one morning at dawn the Swedish farmers set out to find new homes.

  Småländers had always looked down on Ölanders, yet here walked three Småländers guided by an Ölander. They headed southwest down the broad valley. Their guide told them that if they continued in this direction they would find the most fertile soil in the whole river valley. A road had been begun from Taylors Falls, and they followed this clearing as far as it ran, then they had to find their own way, using their axes to cut through the worst thickets. The farther away from the river they walked, the fewer pine trees and more leafy wood they found. The birches here were mostly river birch, growing near water. The newcomers asked their guide the names of the trees that were unknown to them. He pointed out cedars and walnut trees, and they tried to remember the color of the bark and the shape of leaves and trunks. In a bog they discovered larches which they at first assumed to be some kind of pine tree. But the needles were softer, and they were told that these trees lost their needles in winter and made fine lumber. The deeper they penetrated into the lush valley, the larger and more numerous grew the sugar maples, from which sap was tapped in spring. From the rich, sweet maple sap sugar and sirup were made.

  The three Småland farmers missed only one leaf-tree in this new forest—the alder tree, which supplied them with material for wooden shoes at home. And when they were told that no alders grew here, they wondered which one of the other trees might supply them with wood suitable for shoes. Their leather shoes would soon be worn out, and they would be forced to use the same kind of footgear they had worn in Sweden.

  The land-seekers walked leisurely through the fertile valley, they did not walk straight ahead, they turned off to left or right, they made side trips, they observed everything they saw, particularly evaluating the soil. They walked as their forefathers once had walked through their homeland, countless thousands of years ago; they sought what their forebears had sought before a single turf had been turned in that parish where later generations had cultivated their fields. And they compared the American forest with the one at home and felt proud when they discovered that this enormously rich growth lacked one tree which was found in the forest of the land they had left.

  They saw game frequently: rabbit ears stuck up in the grass, big fat squirrels scampered about and jabbered like magpies, near streams and lakelets they saw flocks of wild geese. Gnawed saplings indicated the presence of elk. Once a furred animal ran up a tree, and Jonas Petter recognized the hairy thief who had tried to steal their food the night they camped in the forest. He was told it was a raccoon, a harmless little animal that abounded in that country.

  The forest shone luminously green, the grass stood tall in open places, an abundance of wild fr
uit and berries weighed down the branches of trees and bushes this beautiful August day.

  “The Lord’s sun has never shone on a more pleasing countryside,” said Danjel Andreasson.

  And where the land-seekers wandered now they had only to choose: they could stop wherever they wished and each stake out one hundred and sixty acres of land.

  From time to time, Karl Oskar measured the depth of the topsoil with a small shovel he had brought along. Black mold lay on clay bottom; red clay on hard ground, blue clay on low-lying ground. In a few places he found sand mixed with the clay. But in practically every place he dug, he found topsoil to a depth of two feet, sometimes nearly three feet.

  “More likely earth can’t be found in the whole of creation,” Jonas Petter said.

  But they were also looking for clean drinking water; they had been warned that some of the stagnant pools and tarns were full of insects and small animals which caused dangerous sicknesses. If they were unable to locate a spring or running stream near their place of settling, they would have to dig wells for drinking water, and Anders Månsson maintained that this would be a heavy, long-drawn-out undertaking: once he had had to dig a well twenty-five feet deep.

  He showed them all the lakes he was familiar with. The greatest lake in this region lay farther to the southwest and was called Ki-Chi-Saga; it was an Indian name, said to mean “Great and Beautiful Lake.” Anders Månsson himself had never roamed the forest as far as Ki-Chi-Saga, but he knew a Swede, Johannes Nordberg, who had reached the big lake last autumn. Nordberg was a farmer from Helsingland who had embraced Erik Janson’s new religion and had accompanied him to Illinois. Later he had fallen away from that sect and had left the colony on the prairie to look for a new place in which to settle in the north. He was said to be the first white man ever to see Lake Ki-Chi-Saga, and he had told Månsson that the finest land and the richest soil he had ever seen in this valley lay around it. He had gone back to Illinois but had promised to return last spring with many of Janson’s deserters to settle near the lake with the Indian name. As yet nothing had been heard of him.