In the paper’s editorial on electricity, the question was raised as to whether or not Benjamin Franklin had broken God’s ordinances by inventing the lightning rod whereby man neutralized the bolts. It seemed self-evident that God must cause hurricanes, floods, and other natural disasters — catastrophes to kill those people he originally had intended to kill by lightning. Mr. Franklin had thus with his rod interfered in the business of the Almighty and caused him unnecessary trouble.
Pastor Hasselquist’s paper fought for the true Evangelical Lutheran religion, the world’s only right religion, and condemned sectarianism. He lauded highly the new law passed by the Swedish Riksdag, which condemned the Baptist and prescribed high fines for any layman distributing the sacrament. Of the sects in America, the Mormons were described as the most horrible; they preached the rawest gospel of the flesh since Mohammed descended to Hell. Utah, their place of habitation in the Union, had grown like a festering boil on the American nation. The Mormons had recently made a great conquest in Sweden: one hundred and fifty foolish young women had gone to Utah and had been divided ten to each man; in the new land, they now satisfied men’s carnal lusts.
The paper printed a list of Brigham Young’s wives, thirty-nine in number at that moment. The wives were numbered from one to twenty-seven and a few also had a name, but after twenty-seven they had neither name nor number. Number one was called Lucy Decker, and she would be raised to queen at the resurrection. Those wives who had been given only a number Brigham Young had married for this life only, but those named he had joined for eternity as well. When he held his Sabbath he retired to some lonely place for peace and quiet, taking with him six or seven deeply beloved wives with low numbers.
The Hemlandet’s editor warned his countrymen not only against spiritual dangers but also against worldly snares and perils, especially those connected with the confusing money matters of North America. Every issue had a column headed Bank Swindles, enumerating the banks especially started to cheat people. It was useful for Swedes in the wilderness to know which bills were phony, or worth only half of their face value. And it was emphasized to the readers that neither in the Old World nor in the New did a single bank exist which gave its depositors full security. But there was one Bank, with no human directors, and no earthly safe — the Bank of Grace — which, because of its inexhaustible capital resources — Christ’s Blood and the Forgiveness of Sins — always and everywhere was in a position to redeem its bills at their full value: the promise of eternal joy in the Heavenly Chambers. Readers were advised to make their deposits in that bank.
— 4—
And so Hemlandet came to Karl Oskar and Kristina with news of the world outside the Territory. They had little knowledge of the broad, changing country which had become their home; now they read many amazing things about it. And with the aid of this paper in their native tongue they were also able to educate their children; they used the paper in place of the missing ABC book. In the Hemlandet Johan and Lill-Marta learned to recognize Swedish letters, both small and capital letters, and by and by the children began to form syllables and words from them.
Inquiries was the headline of one column in Hemlandet; where readers made inquiries about relatives living at unknown places in America. Parents were looking for their children, brother for sister, and sister for brother, engaged couples who had lost touch sought to find one another, friends asked the addresses of friends. Here inquiries were made for relatives who had lost their way on the journey and had not arrived at their destination. Many Swedes apparently were wandering about in North America, vainly looking for family connections.
Inquiries was the narrative of peoples hopeless quest for each other. Kristina felt great compassion for these unhappy beings who couldn’t find their dear ones. Somewhere, hands were stretched out to them, but they didn’t know where; they fumbled in a great darkness in the broad land. Kristina had seen this land, she knew how broad it was. The world was entirely too vast for a poor lost person.
Now she wanted Karl Oskar to write an inquiry to Hemlandet and ask about Robert. They hadn’t heard from him in a year and a half, and Karl Oskar was almost sure his brother was dead. Moreover, he felt an inquiry in the little Swedish paper would be useless, since he doubted it reached as far away as California. But to please Kristina he sat down one evening and wrote an inquiry and sent it in. With some changes in the spelling, the piece was printed in Hemlandet:
Brother Sought.
Axel Robert Nilsson from Ljuder parish, Sweden, who left for California in the spring of 1851, in the company of Arvid Pettersson from same parish, has not been heard from since January, 1853. He is 21 years of age and tall. If anyone knows where Nilsson is, or has seen him, please notify his brother, Karl Oskar Nilsson at the address of Taylors Falls Post Office, Minnesota Territory.
They waited a long time, but no answer came. Theirs was a message lost in the wilderness.
— 5—
“Timberrim, timberram, timberrammaram. .”
On Ki-Chi-Saga’s shores the timberman’s song was heard again. Karl Oskar Nilsson was building his third American house this summer.
His first house had been a simple shed, or shanty, of boards nailed together; his second house had been built of logs; but this third house would be one of hewn timbers — a true, sturdy main house on a farmer’s land. A main house. Until now Karl Oskar had lived as a squatter, but when he moved into a main house he would feel he had become a farmer on his own land. Then he could stand erect; the well-timbered building would be the sign of his independence.
The board hut, the log cabin, the timbered main house to these are the three chapters in the story of a settler’s progress.
But Karl Oskar had been forced to shorten his foundation by one third in order to get the new house roofed this year. He would eventually build a larger house than this one, but as yet he didn’t have the necessary cash. He had to give in to those who had warned him and said that he was attempting too big a house. It irked him sorely that he had to cut down on its size. A man makes an estimate and figures out what he would like to do — he puts in the foundation of a new house — and then his strength is not sufficient to raise it. This had happened to him before with other projects, now it happened again. He felt as if he would never have the time to accomplish what he intended. He managed a part, a good part, but when would he be able to accomplish the whole?
And in the evenings his fatigue was greater than before, lasting even till morning and the new day of labor. At times Karl Oskar felt his strength was beginning to wane. Yet, he was only in his thirty-first year, maturity was still between him and old age. He could build once more, he could raise a fourth house, this time the one he had in mind, the great big house he had promised his wife their first year out here. And he said to Kristina: “Next time! Wait till I build next time!”
They had lived in the wretched shanty for two months, for four years they had had their home in the log cabin; how long would the timbered main house be their home?