These were the largest harvest figures Karl Oskar Nilsson had written down in his old almanac. But while he in America harvested his biggest crops, his old home parish in Sweden suffered the greatest crop failure in over a hundred years.
In Hemlandet—whose printing office now had been moved to Chicago — he read about the ravaging famine in the old country: The summer had been the driest in memory throughout Småland. No rain had fallen from the moment the seeds were planted until the crops were cut, and there had been no comforting night dew. Barley grew to only five inches and could not be mowed with a scythe but had to be pulled up by the roots. Fields and meadows lay burned black, and brooks and springs had gone dry. People stole grain from each other by cutting the heads from the sheaves out in the fields. And after the summer’s severe crop failure, all things edible for man and beast were gathered against the winter: Hazel tops, heather seed, pine needles, white moss were ground together and mixed with the flour for baking. Porridge was cooked from barley chaff, lingon twigs, heather tops, salt, and water; also thistles, dandelion roots, and the leaves from beech and linden trees. Heather was cut for animal fodder and instead of oats, shavings and sawdust were mixed for the cows. The very poorest walked in the fields and picked up the bones that had been spread with the dung the year before; these they crushed and ground and mixed with the flour for bread.
This winter, hunger would be a guest at practically every home in Småland. Each week the bells tolled for people who had starved to death or died from diseases contracted because of hunger.
In issue after issue Hemlandet told of the suffering and misery in Småland. Karl Oskar understood how things were at home without difficulty. How many times hadn’t he himself left the table hungry! Now remembrance came to him of the great famine in the summer and winter of ’48—twenty years ago. Kristina had ground acorns and put them into the bread — his throat had been sore and swollen from the rough food and he had suffered with constipation the whole winter. Begging children had come in droves asking if they could pick up herring heads and other refuse from the scrap pile outside. That was the winter when little Anna had eaten herself to death on barley porridge. After that happened Kristina had changed her mind and promised to go with him to North America.
But this time, it appeared, the homeland had been stricken by a still more severe famine. According to the paper, the suffering grew as the winter progressed. The farmers on the smaller homesteads became paupers. The sheriff in Linneryd had within two months foreclosed three hundred farms in his district. Many children died at birth because the famished mothers had no milk to give.
The parishes were listed in famine groups, from one to four, according to their need. Karl Oskar read that Ljuder was listed in group two.
Hunger was ravishing his home parish while he sat here with his bins filled to the ceiling. He read about the barley on the Småland fields, too short to be cut, while his crops had grown taller than ever. In the old country they ate bread from white moss, while in his house they ate rich wheat bread with plenty of butter, as much as they wanted. In their old country was famine, in their new overabundance.
Karl Oskar thought again and again of this great difference, and an idea ripened in him.
One winter evening as he was reading Hemlandet by the light of the kerosene lamp, a knock was heard on the door. A visitor had come; Klas Albert greeted them heartily, in high spirits. The Center City shopkeeper had been a frequent guest in this house of late although there was no need for him to look after the lamp any more.
Karl Oskar, looking up from the paper, said, “It’s bad at home, Klas Albert. They’re starving to death this winter.”
“I’ve read it too,” said Klas Albert. “Ljuder is now in the second famine group.”
“I can’t help thinking about it. .”
“I didn’t think you cared for the old country?”
“Not a shit for the useless dogs at the top. But I feel sorry for the poor, good people.”
Klas Albert thought they probably had enough food for everyone in the old country, but the Swedes had not yet learned that food supplies could be transported from one end of the country to the other if need be.
“The government won’t be bothered to do anything, of course,” said Karl Oskar.
What were they doing in Sweden to alleviate hunger? He had seen a piece in Hemlandet and he read it to Klas Albert:
“The King, the Queen, and the Princess Lovisa have given the sufferers in Småland 1,000 riksdaler: on King Carl’s name day a ball was given at Växjö to help the suffering in the Province, where masked persons representing diverse characters collected money. This brought in 586 riksdaler. Another 140 daler was collected at the Opera Cafe. .”
Karl Oskar counted in his head: altogether 1,726 riksdaler, almost 500 dollars, really not bad.
Klas Albert laughed. Wasn’t it lucky for the hungry people in Småland that the King’s name day happened to fall in the middle of the winter, when the famine was at its worst? A royal house was indeed of great help to the people in years of hunger; the bigger the royal family, the more royal name days, the more bread for the starving subjects.
This king was rumored to have sense enough to admit that he was human; no Swedish king before had admitted as much. About King Carl XV it had been written that no false pride prevented him from bending his head and entering the humblest cottage.
“I’ve thought about something,” said Karl Oskar. “I would like to send a load of my wheat to the hungry in Ljuder.”
“What a Christian deed!” exclaimed Klas Albert. “Good, white American bread for the hungry!”
“But how can I do it?”
“I’ll take care of everything! And I’ll pay the freight!”
The businessman from Center City thought and planned quickly. He had connections with a freight office in Stillwater and he was certain they would send the wheat to Sweden. It was sure to get there, especially if they addressed it to the officials in Växjö, with instructions that it was for the sufferers in Ljuder parish.
But Karl Oskar was suspicious about officials in Sweden.
“Suppose they eat the wheat themselves?”
“Oh no! They wouldn’t dare! Don’t worry, Karl Oskar! You deliver the wheat to me and I’ll handle the rest!”
Said and done.
Karl Oskar had thought Klas Albert just happened to drop in this evening, without any special errand. Now it came out that he did indeed have a reason. Tonight all of them were told why the storekeeper of Center City had spent so much time on the road to their house this winter. One of the children in the house knew in advance: This evening Mr. C. A. Persson told Karl Oskar that his oldest daughter, Marta, had promised to become Mrs. Persson. They would be married a week from Saturday.
Klas Albert and Marta had got to know each other when he came to look after the lamp, and he had found many excuses to service that lamp. His real errand had been another all the time: It was for Marta’s sake he had come evening after evening.
Klas Albert had come to their house to take away one of the children. The years had fled and Karl Oskar had not realized he had a marriageable daughter in the house.
— 3—
Karl Oskar Nilsson sorted twenty bushels of wheat, of the best he had, to be sent to Sweden. He packed it in strong jute sacks that ought to hold during the long journey to Småland. It made a good load and he drove it with his team to Mr. Persson’s store in Center City. This Minnesota wheat would make fine white bread for the hungry people at home.