This is a copy of a letter was written by Miss Emily Thien to her sister Miss Eleanor Thien, then a student at St. Mary's Convent School in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.



Port Washington, Wisconsin

March 2, 1881



Miss Elly Thien



Beloved Sister:



You are no doubt anxious, looking for a letter and wondering how we lived through the storm. Well, last Friday the lake made an awful noise which sounded like thunder; probably you heard it yourself. Ma said it was the sign of a storm, so the next morning she, Celie and Paul started for town to buy groceries, oil and such and sure enough the storm came and raged furiously. No trains have been here since Saturday, February 26th, no sleigh has been heard or seen since Sunday; in fact we have not seen a soul for the last days, not even "Old Roberts."





Thursday, March 3, 1881

As there is still no sign of a train, I will give a little sketch of every thing, every day. It is still snowing. Mr. Towsley was here this evening and said that Robbie had gone up to see the snow plough which is stuck about three miles from here and had not returned. They went out to look for him but were told that he left the men at the plough at five o'clock. He and Lon Judd were afraid to walk on the tracks so they took the road and got lost. They went way up to the Norwegian Cemetery and from there to Knellsville where a man led them to the road and told the boys to follow the telegraph poles which they did and arrived home at ten p.m. Mrs. Towsley was almost crazy. She just sent us word that Bobbie had returned home. It is storming terribly. I am afraid to go to bed. We have no wood in the house excepting large chunks which we have to burn in the soap stone heater and we have to cook all our meals on it, which consists of mush all day. I don't know what we shall do tomorrow. We have no bread, no milk, no yeast and no wood. I told Ma that since it was Lent, it would not hurt us to fast a day. But I have such a great appetitie since my illness that I seem never to get enough to eat. Well I guess we won't starve - -so good night, pleasant dreams.





Friday, March 4, 1881

Good morning, my dear. We are still alive and well. Ma came in to my room this morning greatly excited and said "Emily, we are all snowed in. Nothing is to be seen of the road. All we can see are Towsley's chimneys." I jumped up and really I thought I was in the Arctic regions. My room is dark as night. The snow reaches up to the garret window. On the south side of the house the snow is packed up to at least 14 feet.



At noon Celie and I put on a pair of overalls and started for the barn to get wood. We sank into the snow up to our arm pits and could only carry one piece of wood at a time or we could not have pulled ourselves out of the drifts. Celie thought it was fun. You may be sure she always went on to the highest drifts and rolled down.



It is quite lively at the station. Two snow plows arrived during the night. 130 men are working, trying to get the tracks cleared of the snow. They all board downtown but no meat is left in Port so Butcher Kuhn went to Mr. Vail to buy a cow but Mr. Vail would only sell him an old bull - bah! Who would eat that meat - not I. Ma is worrying awfully about Helen and the children. I think she had better worry about us. I am sure Helen's husband can take care of her. Besides she lives nearer town and has a maid.



Saturday, March 5, 1881

Ma is sick abed with a headache. The day looks bright and joyous. Still no sleighs and no trains. I guess this letter won't go out today as I expected. I sent Celie and Paul to town to get some eatables. The workmen made quite a path to town. Will write more tomorrow. Just a week ago today the big storm started. No papers or anything excepting the Advertiser and that was only one page with a few local items; the rest was Snow! Snow! Adieu.



Sunday Eve.

I went down to Helen's this afternoon. Paula sick abed again. Poor child looks miserable. Darling little Emil has two teeth. He is almost as large as Willie; Looks too cute for anything in short dresses.



The road is pretty good today. The snow frozen so hard we could walk right on top of the drifts. It's two feet higher than the fences. Mr. Possen is trying to get men to shovel and clear the road but all laborers are working on the railroad tracks.



Tuesday.

Nothing of importance happened yesterday. A few boys shoveled a path from the depot to town. The bus appeared on the scene again. Today the depot has been crowded from morning to night. People are hoping a train will be able to get through. Helen was up this afternoon and wishes me to go to Milwaukee with her next week. I would like to go ever so much, if I can get my $400. I wrote for the money last week but I guess the letter is still lying in the post office. I think we'll come in on St. Patricks's day if we decide to go.



Wednesday, March 9, 1881

Your letter received this evening after spending over a week in the Post Office. I can imagine how angry you are because we do not write. But you will certainly forgive us when you know the reason. You could not have been more anxious for a letter than I have been. Three cheers! Another train is in. I guess this letter will go out at last.



Expect Hennie to come as soon as the roads are passable. Are you not anxious to see that rare and radiant maiden whom we named Lenore. I hope you will be satisfied with this letter.



Devotedly,

Emily



The names and ages of those people mentioned in this letter are as follows:

Elly - 26, Emily - 23, Ma (Betty Meyer Thien Goetze) - 54, Helen (Helene Thien Tholen) - 30, Hennie (Henrietta Thien Scott) - 24. Children: Celie (Goetze) - 14, Paul (Goetze) - 8, Paula (Tholen) - 6, Willie (Tholen) - 3, Emil (Tholen) - 1, Lenore (Scott) - 2 months.