Letter from August B. Carlson to Peter Carlson

Date: [unknown] [unknown]
Location: Döderhult, Kalmar, Sweden
Surname/tag: Carlson

The original letter was written in Swedish and was translated to English by Elin Anderson (daughter of Peter Carlson).

Doderhult, Sweden January 14, 1875

Dear Brother Peter:

I arrived in Oskarshamn at 8 P.M. on December 30, looked up some old friends, but being anxious to get home I started out on foot at 9 o'clock.

I soon reached the Doderhult church with its surrounding church yard where my dear brother Carl had been laid to rest since I went away. I thought of my grandparents on both sides of the family, uncles, aunts and others. Here they lie, generation after generation, and here am I - now treading the ground their feet have trod. My soul was stirred as I recalled them all.

I decided to stop at sister Stina's first and ask for conveyance to the next village and if I didn't succeed - I would ask to stay overnight. I approached the house almost if dreaming — here I was so near to my dear sister who had been in poor health so long and who had been the object of so many of my prayers, that the Lord would spare her that we might meet again.

I knocked at the door- listened to hear my sister's voice. Think, if she knew I was here. Our cousin Ida, who works for them came to the door and she asked who was there. "I am a traveler" I said using the provincial brogue of Oland. "What do you want"? she asked. I told her my errand, which she passed on to the man of the house. Upon my asking for permission to speak to him - he finally came to the door with a negative answer. No, he couldn't haul anyone. It was too late. Neither my urgent or my offer of increased pay for his services had any effect. Then I asked to stay overnight. "No" he said, we aren't fixed so we can keep anybody-here". I heard someone inside say, "Tell him you have the carpenters and you will get rid of him. I told him I wasn't particular, I would be content to sleep on the floor. But, no, there was no use arguing. He asked me where I came from. I told him I had been at sea. I renewed my request for a ride, but he said he had no hired man and the boys were too young to be driving at night. Then the lights went out-and it was clear to me that my efforts had been futile. As I left I thought - I'll warrant you will let me in the next time I come. Just think if you knew it was I. I looked back several times thinking they might recall me, but they didn't. The whole thing then seemed comical to me as I continued my journey-not thoughtlessly-for every bush and turn in the road which I took time to look at recalled some memory from former days.

When I reached Flinshult, I was uncertain which road to take. My parents had moved since I left home. I therefore inquired at Gabrielson's and revealed my identity and they cut of their great courtesy took me over to Father's place. It was midnight when we reached the house. I sent the driver back as quickly as possible. I stood a moment and looked around — all was quiet — no light in the house. "Oh Now" I thought — I am home again. Think if my folks knew I was standing outside here in the snow - how they would rush out to greet me, but all was silent. I prayed that my dear mother might not faint with joy when she finds I have come back home. I knocked at the door first softly - then more loudly. The door opened — it was my brother Otto. He called out "who is it". Is it you August? "Ho Ho" I thought they must be awaiting me.

"I am a traveler", I said thinking at least to confuse them a bit. Otto was looking for out cousin August who stayed there. "what do you want", he asked. "Is this the right way to Lemmedahl?" I asked.: "yes it is", he answered. "Could you take me over there"? "Well, might be we could, come on in and we'll see" he said. He lit a candle and gave me a scrutinizing look by which I know he did not recognize me and which made me less interested in soliciting a ride. As it was late, I therefore asked if I might stay overnight. "You'll have to ask the folks about that" said Otto. Father in an adjourning room with the door open - spoke up. "You're out late." "Did you come from Oskarshamn?" "Yes, I did, I have traveled". "Are you a traveling tradesmen or what do you do?" I answered "Yes I have traveled around a bit." "What has been your line of work?" he asked. I told him I had worked at shoe making a little. "Is that so, then perhaps you are a full fledged shoe maker, he commented. "No, I am not" I answered. While this conversation was carried on, Otto had kindled a fire in the fireplace. “May I stay overnight" I ventured to ask. It is so late and cold to start out again. I will pay you for my lodging. Mother roused up and said to Father, "He surely could have found a place to stay before now." — thereby expressing her disgust of being disturbed thus in the middle of the night by a stranger. "Yes, of course," said Father. “But the poor man can't go any place now — it's too late." I heard Mother whisper her answer while I continued, "I'm not a bit particular if I can only stay. I'll be glad to sleep on the floor. Otto after he had gone in and crawled under his warm blanket called out to his sister, "Marie, you get up and fix a bed for this man." She answered, "who wants me to get up now“. She didn't like the idea of having her sleep broken. I mentioned I did stop one place and asked to spend the night, but they had the carpenters. "Where could that have been"? Several guesses were made but I pretending to be a stranger could give no information.

Father told Marie to get up and fix a bed for me. Marie came out and who: she was fully awake she carefully looked me over - warmed herself at the fireplace - then took the broom and swept up some shavings off the floor where some whittling had been done. "Ha Ha" I chuckled to myself, here is where my vision of sleeping on the floor is coming true. During further conversation with Father I asked if these were his children and after his affirmative answer, I asked him if he had more._ "Yes" he said we have a married daughter here and in America we have three sons. "Is that so" I said. "Then perhaps they have been there long, so they are rich. "Oh, I don't know about that," he answered. "What do they do", I asked. "Are they all farmers"? I went on. Marie spoke up, "No one is attending college." I said, "Is that so." Has he been studying long? with high school and college and all it must be nine or ten years, she said. Then I asked what he was studying for. "Oh, we don't know" said Father. "It is hard to know just what he intends to do" I ventured "Maybe he will be a lawyer or a doctor or preacher." Father then said he believed he was going to be a preacher. "Your other two sons are farmers then?" I said. "Yes he said, "One is dead and the other is a farmer. Father said, "Don't you find it hard to wander around like this?" "Oh yes, I said, but when you aren't used to anything else you can do it." But Father thought it would be perfectly awful. I said, "The worst is to be out over the holidays when you haven't a home to go to." "Well, that's true." said father, but a person is afraid to take in strangers, there are so many that come and go." "Well that might be," I answered, but it surely isn't worse to keep people than it is for those who have to ask to be kept. For they can stay in their own home, among their own folks while we are often misunderstood too." "Well I guess that's true alright," said Father. then looking down on the floor by the fireplace, he said, "but I think you have fixed up an awful poor bed for him. Mother couldn't you have done a little better? Mother answered that he had two quilts so he could get along — Marie chimed in sure he'll get along with that. I then asked if I could buy some food. Marie answered, "we haven't anything ready". "But you'll have to give him a little what you have," put in Father. Marie went in to Mother's bed for a consultation on the question and in a little while brought me a plate with some bread and a piece of cold meat. I thanked very much humbly and then asked her if I could buy a glass of milk. "No, she answered “we have no milk on hand. We take it to town as they pay so well for it — We get l8 shillings a gallon. "I have money" I said, "So I"ll pay you top price for milk. "That may all be," she said "but we have no milk tonight. "Would you like a glass of homemade soft drink?" Upon my affirmative answer she brought it to me and I proceeded very slowly to eat my lunch. When I had finished my little sister directed me to my bed on the floor for which I meekly thanked her. I sat by the fire and warmed myself for awhile and then took possession of my bed.

Father remarked again that no doubt I would find it cold and hard to lie there to which Marie retorted that it was too cold and had to go out to the storeroom after more blankets, but that he would have plenty to keep him warm for the night. "Well" I said "I have made a lot of trouble for you, to which Marie replied. "Oh, we haven't gone to any trouble. Father to make sure asked, "How do you really think you will make out down there on the floor." "Oh, this is all right." I answered, "I don't have to be outside anyway and it is nice and warm here by the fireplace. Of course, I could have gone out to the storeroom myself and brought in some bed clothes if I only had been trusted. By this I merely wanted to let them know what I didn't think they had gone to too much trouble. I lay there and talked to father about things in general and especially about his children in America, and their circumstances. I even went so far as to say I had been in New York. I thought I would arouse their curiosity, but failed. I continued the conversation as long as I received an answer, but finally Mother told Father to keep still so she could go to sleep. ‘I must admit my bed was a trifle hard but at the time I felt, the porridge is worth more than the soup. I'll get a better bed come another night. The next morning Father arose first and kindled the fire, carefully examined my overshoes and brought them in for Mother to look at. Soon Mother got up and before she came out she had her morning prayer as usual. I heard her pray especially for her poor children in America. Then I could repress my tears no longer, they ran freely down my cheeks, no one saw them for I was still on my bed on the floor. I got up and when Mother came out I asked. "Are you Christians here?" Father quickly answered, "No, we are not." "Well I don’t know what to say about that," put in Mother, then added, "Are you?" I replied, "why? What's the use." If we live, as well as we know how and obey the Golden Rule that's all that can be expected of us. This was Father's idea of Christianity, as I well remembered from my childhood. Mother spoke up "No that won't help us any, all the good works that we might do doesn't count before God. That's what the Bible teaches and that's true because that is God‘s own word." I ventured to say, "How can you say that the Bible is God's word?” "Because it is the truth," she said. "But haven't people like you and I written the Bible?” I asked. Yes she replied "They have - but - well then the Bible is the writings of the prophets, evangelists and apostles - and they were men weren't they? I asked her, yes, they were, she answered, but here Marie asked for permission to answer and said, "Prophets, evangelists and apostles were men, that's true, but God inspired them to write what he wanted written, therefore the Bible is God's word." I considered the question well answered, and I made no further comment. Marie whispered to Mother, "What's the use of talking to a fellow like that-about such things." They were suspicious of-my being a thief because I wore good clothes and brother Otto even went and hid his pocket book asked them several times if they wouldn't let me stay over New Years was repeatedly denied because they were having company.

Before breakfast I went out to look around the barn where Otto and cousin August were feeding the stock. They asked me my name to which I replied that it didn't matter and they asked where I was born. "In Smaland." I answered. Otto jestingly said, "They say our August is a fellow about like you - maybe it is August, he said with a loud guffaw. At day break when I was about to leave I asked them how much I owed them. That didn't seem to matter at all but if I wanted to give Marie a little for her trouble it would be all right. She asked me if six shillings too much. I handed them a $20 gold piece, which they could not change, then I gave them 25 ore. And while they were making change I again pleaded with them to let me stay over New Years. But no they just couldn't have anyone there. "But if I say I am your son August won't you let me stay then." I begged. No, No, you aren't August they cried. - But I am August. Here I stand. "No, that can't be possible," they shrieked. "Mother, Mother can't I stay over New Years with you. Don't you see this is August. And with that I showed her the scar on my forehead and the finger I, split on a pine knot when we were cutting wood. And if you still don't believe me here is the silver tablespoon Grandfather gave me when I left home with his initials on it. "By this time my tears were coursing down my cheeks in streams. I wanted to take Mother in my arms but she just held back screaming - It can't be possible. This can't be you August. Father looked me over and was convinced it was I, as were also Otto and Marie. I took them in my arms and kissed them. Finally Mother collected herself enough to let me embrace and kiss her dear face. Such a home I have never experienced before in all my life and I never expect to so again. Such absolute astonishment, such exuberant joy especially on part can never be described. The first thing Mother could say after she came to herself again was "August why did you do this?" If it isn't to make the hair fall off the top of my head. I am receiving such a welcome everywhere and it seems too good to be true that I came back to my homeland again and be among my loved ones once more.

August.