Andrew N. Crogstad, a leading citizen, a man of honor and intelligence, has shared the difficulties of the frontier. He was born in Trondhjem, Norway, 1852, received a good schooling and in February, 1872, left his fatherland for Dunn county, Wisconsin, and five years later disembarked in the Skagit valley. He turned his attention to logging and farming. A beautiful farm, surrounded by a wealthy orchard, stands as a pride to his energy. He has seen days of romantic awfulness, once hazardous, but now pleasing reminiscences. The flood has always been a dread, and many frights has it caused. One Fourth of July Mr. Crogstad went to Fir to celebrate the independence of his adopted country. The morning was bright and prognostic of a pleasant time. Returning home during gray twilight, a seething, rolling sound floated down on the breeze, and ere they realized the cause, water crept up to their feet. The ladies were frightened out of their wits and took to screaming, which seems to be their only alternative in time of danger. Mr. Crogstad and his companion understood the predicament, slung the ladies on their backs and pranced home, thus avoiding a disastrous outcome.
[Illustration: MRS. WILHELMINA AUGUSTA CROGSTAD.]
In 1887 he was married to an estimable lady, Miss Wilhelmina Augusta Jensen, born in Scleswig, Holstein, 1863, of Danish parentage, and came to America, 1875. They have five children, four girls and one boy; Alvina, Emma, Lottie, Clara and Maurice.
One not accustomed to pioneer life in the forest can hardly conceive its many romantic features. To live on the bank of a big river, rolling and moaning in tireless monotony, and huge trees praying and howling to the wroth of the wind, and frisky brutes gamboling in wild frolics, and Indians skulking in stealthy moods, is something awe-inspiring.
On a jolly morning, Charles Mann, the pioneer merchant of Fir, reconnoitered in the woods behind his store, and to his awe, stumbled into a hideous infernal, which was afterwards discovered to be an Indian cemetery. Ah, terror! hundreds of Indians were hanging in the trees, some nude skeletons, some with the hearts torn out of their mutilated frames; owls and crows were sailing on evil wings among the ghastly dead, and horror seemed to reign in every bush. This finding startled the whole town, and into the woods rushed young and old; flames sprang into the air and swept through the forest, and the dead Indians dropped from a hanging hell into a burning one.