As to literary finish no claim is made. In a few instances of a descriptive nature recourse has been had to the accounts of other observers. In all other respects the story is a plain recital of the personal experiences of the author, told without pretensions, as an humble contribution by an emigrant to the history of the emigrants, and of the settlement of the Great West.
THE AUTHOR.
Minneapolis, Minn., October, 1891.
[ CHAPTER I.]
Ancestry and country home in Sweden—Home influences—My first school years—Christmas—Military life—Departure for America.
My childhood passed so quietly and smoothly that it would be superfluous to mention it at all, except for the fact that such omission would leave a gap in these reminiscences. For this reason, and, also, in order that the American reader may get some idea of a good country home in Sweden, I shall relate very briefly some incidents from that time.
My parents belonged to one of those old families of proprietary farmers, whose spirit of independence and never failing love of liberty, have, from time immemorial, placed Sweden, as a land of constitutional liberty, in the front rank among all the countries of the Old World.
Like the descendants of the old Scotch clans the ancestors of my father were noted for certain physical and mental qualities, which made them prominent among the inhabitants of the district of Villand, Skåne, where most of them had their home. They were independent freeholders and were generally reckoned among the leading men of their district. They were large and strong with broad shoulders, high and broad foreheads and other family characteristics. The christian names of the male members were generally Bonde, Trued, Lars, Matts, and Hans, and the family can be traced back in the parish records for more than two hundred years.
My mother was born on the island of Ifö, my father’s family also came from that island and were the owners of the estate described by Du Chaillu in his “Land of the Midnight Sun” with the remarkable crypt built by Bishop Andreas Suneson[1] and the estate still belongs to a second cousin of mine. My father inherited a small sum of money for which, at the time of his marriage, he bought a land in the parish of Önnestad near the city of Kristianstad. On this property he built a small house, barn, etc., and on the south side of the former a small flower garden was laid out at either end of which my father planted a spruce tree, one of which grew up into a fine, big tree, the only one of its kind in the whole neighborhood, and to which I shall refer farther on. In this unpretending little cabin I was born Dec. 23d, 1832, and under its lowly but peaceful roof I spent the first years of my childhood, together with an elder sister and a younger brother.