On the 8th of June, 1866, 29-year-old Nissa Erik Andersson (Nissa was his farm name, a customary prefix in Dalarna) left his home parish of Orsa to set off for Minnesota. With him were his wife and three small children, his widowed mother, his widowed sister and her 12-year-old daughter, as well as about 35 other men, women and children from Orsa. More than half of the group were Baptists, including the future founders of the Stanchfield Baptist Church (Masser Anders Peterson and Spennar Lars Larsson, later Dahlman). Shortly after arrival Erik wrote this letter back home, describing the trip to his new homeland and what awaited him upon arrival.
The letter only recently came to our attention thanks to avid family historian Leif Bälter in Sweden. He was made aware of the letter by its keeper, Gerd Hall, who then kindly shared her typed transcription with us. This was then translated by Cynthia Wentland of Minneapolis. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did. (Ship image is of the steamship City of Cork, the vessel that carried the emigrants from Liverpool to New York).
Minnesota
Cambridge Isanti County, 16 Aug 1866
Dear E. Olsson! God’s grace and Peace.
Now I am here amazingly enough, the gentleness of the Lord is such that he does not give up on us and his mercy does not end, but faith renews itself every morning. His faithfulness is great. The Lord is mine, sayeth my soul, therefore I will trust in him. For the Lord is good. Those who trust in him, the soul that asks for him.
You who have waited a long time for a letter from us and wonder where we went–we have been delayed and wasted a total of 2 weeks during the trip. The whole trip was 6 weeks and 2 days. We came to St. Paul on Tuesday morning, July 24th. We were in a rush in Cizaga (Chicago), so that our things were not labelled, and then we waited for them for three days in St. Paul, but we gave up and left them and came here on the 28th, so we are embarrassed to count 7 weeks for the journey. The suitcases arrived on 11 Aug. It was difficult enough to keep track of them.
Our whole group is alive, although we have all been through what is usual for all emigrants– vomiting and diarrhea. Some are not well yet. Our little daughter Kerstin got very worn down by this, and also, she fell ill with a cold the last night we were at sea.
I would now like to talk about the journey a little bit.
We left Gothenburg, our dear homeland, the gray Swedish mountains behind us, on the evening of June 22 (I wrote a letter there and sent to you Eric, I hope you have received something). We had beautiful weather over the North Sea and a lot to see. The ships were numerous as butterflies, and there were strange, large fish of several kinds. On the afternoon of the 24th, or Midsummer’s Day, we saw the coast of England and soon we were in the town of Hull, where we stayed for three days while they cleaned a ship from cholera in Liverpool, and so we traveled to Liverpool on the 29th, through 13 mountains the 11th was so incredibly far that we began to wonder where it would go. The whole country was like a paradise. There were fences like we have and know how to build, and we have heard the Americans would surpass them in all this.
On Friday evening the 29th we boarded. At night they set out from land into a large bay or river, I did not know what it was. We went into the infinitely large city on Saturday morning. Several ships came to us with people, and we had to go through a starvation cure for a while before everything was in order, and we were inspected by the doctors. Then we were finally on our way, and we got to eat breakfast. In the afternoon we were served some unfamiliar food. As evening approached, a strong headwind came up and sea became rough enough. Then there was a knocking and roaring, and a flow of vomit. If you had seen it, your stomach would also be empty. Everyone was lying down now, both young and old. It was just as well– if the little ones had felt well, we would not have been able to take care of them. I lay there until Monday night when I crawled up 2 flights of stairs and got up on the deck. Ugh! I grasp the mast and the ropes. I see some pale, pale, faces holding onto the railings with the same grip. I see some others looked cheerful as if there was no danger. It was blowing and raining, and the waves formed in hills and valleys so that the ship went up and down at both ends. Then rolls on both sides in these waves of water, it was as if I had been down in a few shafts in the Kallmora mines. I thought these terrible waves would bury our ship, but when they threatened to submerge it, it flew up easily like a bird, sat on a high peak, and went back down again. I crawled back and lay down. It got worse. I’m lying at the end of a 60-foot-long ship. I get thrown high in the air and back down and to the sides, first with my feet up and then with my head up. Then there was a terrible racket at night. The suitcases and everything loose began to fly around, and cries of fear were heard. Yes, now it’s over, Dear God help. Now I look at the Baptists and pray. Is there any prayer that will help? Then I say “I believe God’s promise will help us in our time of need, etc. calms us.” Tuesday evening, I go up with my son in hand. We both fall over and slip so that we slam into the railings. It was not so good. It was like the ship was hanging on a nail, and then back up a hill and lay down on one side and down and up on a hill and lay down on the other side. The wind was against us all the time, but it was slightly better the last week. Everyone had food boxes, the crumbs we had brought from home were very valuable. Yes, as precious as sugar sticks and other delicacies. It looked like we were in the same location every day. The ship’s engine was weak. We were on the ocean for 15 days. On Saturday morning, July 14, we docked in New York. There were Cholera ships that were not allowed to come to shore, and we were happy to be able to escape our prison. We now were able to buy ripe apples, on Sunday I was on the Methodist Bethel ship[1]. It was dreadfully hot, even the townspeople were not used to it. It was hard to breathe. The sun rose at 5:15 and set at 7. At 8 o’clock it was pitch black like an autumn night. At Monday dinner, new passengers came and filled the Emigrant House and we left, while we were outside were putting our things in order, 4 corpses of these cholera-infected people were carried out. We hurried away from there on the railway, which was difficult—four days and nights to Chicago. We looked around for fruit but there was nothing aside from a few old apple trees. At one point the train stopped and we picked from a tree. When we had traveled the night and into the next afternoon, it did not feel like America. A long way before we came to Illinois to the lowlands, yes those who have heard all the bragging and think too highly of this country–they get very depressed and feel deceived. If you have to buy some fruit, it is more expensive than at home–2 to 5 cents an apple. This was strange because along the way there were large apple orchards. Oh, I am just talking carelessly.
Let’s hear something about Minnesota.
On a clear Tuesday morning, July 24, we saw right in front of us the untouched deep Mississippi River surrounded on both sides by high mountains with the new Saint Paul sloping to the southeast. It made us happy because we thought we would be living not far from there. There we met Bond Hans and the people from Skattungbyn who were still doing day work. They regretted that they had not bought land before. We stayed there, as mentioned, for three days. We then traveled 25 miles by rail north to Anoka, and I do not see the long grass that comes up to my shoulders in all of America. We then travelled by land to Cambridge 25 miles and another 5 miles to the Dala settlement. This one night and day I got very tired and sore feet. Along the way, we saw people walking as one would from inn to inn. It looks like there is just sandy soil everywhere. Ridges and lowlands (or forest land). On the higher land, the grass is 2 or 3 kvarter[2] long, but no swales as in Sweden. It looks like cleared earth or a sown field. We came up to Cambridge and traveled farther over a prairie that is hilly and overgrown with saplings of many different kinds, including aspen. Finally, we see Hans Juga’s cabin. I wondered how they could live in that place and saw Dahl Per’s on another grazing pasture on a hill, and I could see other grazing pastures from here I thought, but I started to look around and I realized they have things really good, but where would we find a place. We walked around here for two days but do not find these 4 things all in one place: hayfields, forest, water, and good arable land. We are now walking on the west side of the Rum River to look for a new place to settle, but in vain. We walk a whole week, even if it is so far away that we are unable to get there and too expensive in every way, then again, we find room for 6 or 7 and sometimes Americans. Then we go to Cambridge and settle down. Here are endless prairies, long, long, but what immigrant is able to settle here without hayfields, without forest? And deep wells would need to be dug. I did not like them, the Americans aren’t concerned about them. He can come in the spring with a couple of oxen and some cattle and the whole household builds a Sjante (probably Erik’s own spelling of the English word “shanty”), breaks up 50 acres and plants seed, digs a well, and so on. All higher land is suitable for planting, some is better or worse. There are not as good hayfields in Sweden compared to what is considered a hayfield here. I would like to describe how the land looks, but cannot. There are many kinds of prairies. In Illinois they were very low and looked like lakes and seas with waves, yes long and thick grass. Here there are high, sandy prairies, but not they are not very flat. There are ridges and small valleys sparsely covered with young oaks, small oak bushes and grasses that look like oats before they get their seed heads. Sometimes long as rye straw but no one cuts this. It is mixed in with bushes and small brush.
The construction method
Cabin and Stebel (probably his spelling of the English word “stable”). The American cabin looks as if the builder stood 10 steps away and threw the logs in a pile. You can stick the width of your hand between each log, and it looks like he stood the same way and threw firewood so that it got stuck between the logs and clay. The stable is the same, you could almost crawl between each log, all the wind goes through. Straw or hay on the roof. On our way here, we came to a place that was in very poor condition. The cabin there was more poorly constructed than a toolshed, the outside walls were covered with peat rather than clay or mortar. We looked into the door and saw a wealth of silver vessels and nice furniture. We got to drink milk all we could, but it’s not that way everywhere. A short distance away could be a nice white board building that the men from Orsa built in their own style. The type of soil in this settlement is a mixture of sand marl, sand, black humus with clay bottom almost everywhere. I do not know how things are in other settlements around here. If someone moves here, he should be prepared to move out and become a Finn[3].
It’s a little tricky to get land. The land office is not open. They are working on the railway. The whole area is measured in large parcels and each lot is numbered and there are maps to look at and some with rods and poles. The lots within each township are numbered with 1,2,3,4 and so on. Now each odd number lot such as 1, 3, 5, etc. belongs to the railway company for 10 miles on both sides of the road, to assist them in building[4], so that whoever settles on an odd lot has to pay from 5 to 6 dollars an acre, but you can get the even ones for nothing. I intend to put myself on such in the middle of the settlement because I like it, and around here are sugar maple forests. You tap the trees in the spring like birch and cook it down like whey butter [5]. It requires work and gives a 2/18 raw sugar and syrup or molasses. The only wild fruit I found in the forest is countless raspberries and few gooseberries. There are plums by the river, and there are grapevines. And there are bumblebees in the wild bushes, and I thought that could be something but no one makes a living on this, or by hunting game. After all, birds have wings and stags run like stags. Here they call females “deer.” More about this another time. I will write soon again when I get some money to pay for the letters. There is not much room left. I should say a little more. I have borrowed a house here from Dahl Per and I am harvesting hay with him. He has a good piece of land that would be enough for two more households. Everything is terribly expensive. A milk can costs 12 dollars here, last year it cost 5 dollars, a cow costs 45 to 50 dollars, last year it cost 15, 20 to 25 dollars, a pair of oxen 200 dollars, a cart 120 dollars, a plow 25 or 30. These you should have. The war has made it so expensive. Countless cattle and grain are shipped to the South. Before you worry about any money, I want to ask around first, oftentimes once can end up without any, either through fraudulent exchanges, or through sending cash in letters.
Mother send her greeting to Daughter Anna…. Do not worry about me, my wife is homesick. Greetings to Adolf Ors Per and their families. Yes, they get no words on this paper. A heartfelt greeting to you all.
Nissa Erik Anderson (later known as Erik Ossell)
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[1] See https://www.swedishamericanhist.org/product/the-hedstroms-and-the-bethel-ship-saga/
[2] A kvarter is one-fourth of an aln. An aln is about 60 cm.
[3] The Swedish Finns were required to live in the outlying forests, not near the towns. This sentence is probably meant to be understood that to live in the Isanti wilderness is to live like the Swedish Finns, not to move out of the Isanti area.
[4] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Checkerboarding_(land)
From Orsa to Stanchfield 