Chapter I: Part 1

SWEDISH FAIRY TALES

BY
HERMAN HOFBERG.

TRANSLATED BY W. H. MYERS.

CHICAGO:
BELFORD-CLARKE CO.
1890.

AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

It is probably known to most readers that there is a distinction between Tradition and Saga. Tradition has, or at least seems to have, to do with facts, usually designating some particular spot or region where the incident is said to have taken place, often even giving the names of actors, while the Saga is entirely free in its scope, equally as regards incident, and the time and place of its happening. Not infrequently the traditions of a people are founded upon actual historical occurrences, which, often repeated in the naïve manner of the peasantry, become, finally, folk-lore. A great many are, however, drawn from ancient myths, which, in time, become clad in historical garb, and are located in some particular place.

We already possess various collections of traditions drawn from the rich treasury of our peasantry, but up to the present there has been no attempt at a formulated compilation of Swedish folk-lore. As I now put into the hands of the public such a collection, I ought to state that I have thought it better to select the most typical of our traditions than to gather everything that I might in this line, much of which has already been written, and which would require a many times larger volume, and occasion a repetition of the same matter when occurring, as many do, in different localities. Instead, I have accompanied each tale with a historical and ethnographical note in which I have so stated if the tradition is found in different places.

The illustrations are the product of several among our best artists. Without doubt, the book has thereby been added to greatly, not only in outer adornment, but even in national and intrinsic value.

TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.

An interest in the Swedish people, their language, their literature and history; the important part the traditions of a people play in their history, character and domestic life, and that the traditions of the world play in its history and that of mankind, and that I would, if possible, add to the growing interest in that far-away, beautiful country, and that generous, hospitable people, have been the incentives to the labor involved in this translation; a labor not unmixed with pleasure, and not a little of that pleasure coming from the encouragement of my Swedish acquaintances.

No embellishment and not more than a faithful reproduction of the author’s ideas have been attempted, and I shall be happy, indeed, if I have done so excellent a writer as Mr. Hofberg, approximate justice in this regard.

I have taken the liberty to leave out a number of the author’s notes as unimportant, and not likely to interest the general reader, also to follow the stories with their notes instead of grouping them in the back of the book as in the original.

CONTENTS.

PAGE.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE, 3
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE, 4

SKÅNE.

LJUNGBY HORN AND PIPE, 31
STOMPE PILT, 15
THE GHOST AT FJELKINGE, 28
THE GIANT FINN AND LUND’S CATHEDRAL, 17
THE LORD OF ROSENDAL, 20
THE MASTER OF UGERUP, 23
THE SURE SHOT, 11

BLEKINGE.

THE KNIGHT OF ELLENHOLM, 39
THE SWAN MAIDEN, 35

SMÅLAND.

DAME SOÅSAN, 47
EBBE SKAMELSON, 60
JOHAN AND THE TROLLS, 65
KATRINEHOLM MANOR, 55
KETTIL RUNSKE, 45
THE GIANT PUKE, 52
THE LOST TREASURE, 69
THE TROLLS OF SKURUGATA, 42

GÖTLAND.

THE BYSE, 77
THE SEA NYMPH, 75
THE TEN FAIRY SERVANTS, 71

ÖLAND.

THE BRIDGE OVER KALMARSOUND, 78

HALLAND.

ELSTORPS WOODS, 84
THE FREEBOOTER’S GRAVE, 89
THE PIGMY OF FOLKARED’S CLIFF, 86
THE YOUNG LADY OF HELLERUP, 80

BOHUSLÄN.

GLOSHED’S ALTAR, 95
HÅLDE-HAT, 99
KING RANE AND QUEEN HUDTA, 107
THE BRIDAL PRESENT, 97
THE CHILD PHANTOM, 105
THE GIANT MAIDEN IN BORÅSERÖD MOUNTAIN, 91
THE GOLDEN CRADLE, 102

VESTERGÖTLAND.

BISHOP SVEDBERG AND THE DEVIL, 117
THE COUNTESS OF HÖJENTORP, 111
THE GIANT OF SKALUNDA, 113
THE KNIGHTS OF ÅLLABERG, 109
THE TREASURE IN SÄBY CREEK, 119
THE TROLLS IN RESSLARED, 115

ÖSTERGÖTLAND.

LADY BARBRO OF BROKIND, 129
THE CAT OF NORRHULT, 126
THE TOMTS, 122
THE TROLL SHOES, 134
THE URKO OF NORTH WIJ, 131

DAL.

BURIED ALIVE, 140
THE MOUNTAIN KITCHEN, 138
THE WOOD AND THE SEA NYMPHS, 136

VERMANLAND.

JONAS SPITS, 141
LADY RANGELA OF EDSHOLM, 143
SAXE OF SAXEHOLM, 145
THE HARVESTERS, 149
THE POLITE COAL BURNER, 147

NÄRIKE.

KATE OF YSÄTTER, 155
RUGGA BRIDGE, 153
THE ELVES’ DANCE, 159
THE FIDDLER AND THE SEA NYMPH, 162
THE ULFGRYT STONES, 150

VESTERMANLAND.

BOLSTRE CASTLE, 174
THE COAL BURNER AND THE TROLL, 169
THE SNIPE, 164
TIBBLE CASTLE AND KLINTA SPRING, 166

SÖDERMANLAND.

LAKE GOLDRING, 184
THE CHANGELINGS, 176
THE LADY OF PINTORP, 179
THE TROLL GARDEN AT STALLSBACKE, 187

UPLAND.

HERR MELKER OF VECKHOLM, 189
THE OLD MAN OF LOGGA, 192

DALARNE.

BÖLSBJÖRN, 197
THE LAPP IN MAGPIE FORM, 200
THE PLAGUE, 203
THE TREASURE SEEKERS, 198
THE WATER NYMPH, 194

GESTRIKLAND.

THE VÄTTERS, 205

HELSINGLAND.

FORSSA CHURCH, 208

MEDELPAD.

STARKAD AND BALE, 209

ÅNGERMANLAND.

THE BELL IN SJÄLEVAD, 212

HERJEDALEN.

THE VÄTTS STOREHOUSE, 214

JÄMTLAND.

THE STONE IN GRÖNAN DAL, 216

VESTERBOTTEN.

THE VOYAGE IN A LAPP SLED, 218

LAPPLAND.

KADNIHAK, 227
THE CUNNING LAPP, 224
THE GIANT’S BRIDE, 221
THE LAPP GENESIS OR THE FIRST OF MANKIND, 219

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE.
BISHOP SVEDBERG AND THE DEVIL, 117
BOLSTRE CASTLE, 174
DAME SOÅSAN, 47
HÅLDE-HAT, 99
HERR MELKER IN VECKHOLM, 189
JOHAN AND THE TROLLS, 65
JONAS SPITS, 141
KATE OF YSÄTTER, 155
KATRINEHOLM MANOR, 55
LADY BARBRO OF BROKIND, 129
STARKAD AND BALE, 209
THE BRIDGE OVER KALMARSOUND, 78
THE BELL IN SJÄLEVAD, 212
THE CHILD PHANTOM, 105
THE COAL BURNER AND THE TROLL, 169
THE CUNNING LAPP, 224
THE ELVES’ DANCE, 159
THE GHOST OF FJELKINGE, 28
THE GIANT MAIDEN IN BORÅSERÖD MOUNTAIN, 91
THE GIANT OF SKALUNDA, 113
THE KNIGHTS OF ÅLLABERG, 109
THE LADY OF PINTORP, 179
THE LAPP IN MAGPIE FORM, 200
THE LORD OF ROSENDAL, 20
THE MOUNTAIN KITCHEN, 138
THE PIGMY OF FOLKARED CLIFF, 86
THE POLITE COAL BURNER, 147
THE SNIPE, 164
THE STONE IN GRÖNAN DAL, 216
THE SURE SHOT, 11
THE SWAN MAIDEN, 35
THE TEN FAIRY SERVANTS, 71
THE TOMTS, 122
THE TROLL GARDEN AT STALLSBACKE, 187
THE TROLLS OF SKURUGATA, 41
THE TROLL SHOES, 134
THE ULFGRYT STONES, 150
THE VÄTTERS, 205
THE VÄTTS STOREHOUSE, 214
THE WATER NYMPH, 194
THE YOUNG LADY OF HELLERUP, 80

THE SURE SHOT. [1]

It is not alone in Bohemia’s mountainous regions that the romantic characters are found which form the basis of Weber’s immortal fictions. Similar traditions are current in many lands, especially in ours, one of which we will now relate.

In the artless fancy of the peasantry the means of acquiring the power of unerring aim are many, the most usual by compact with the Fairies or Wood Nymphs. While the compact lasts the possessor, sitting at his hut door, needs only to wish, and the game of his choice springs into view, and within range of his never-failing gun. Such a compact, however, invariably ends in the destruction of the hunter.

Many years ago there was a watchman up in the Göinge regions, a wild fellow, who, one evening, while drinking with his neighbors, more tipsy and more talkative as the hour grew late, boasted loudly of his marksmanship, and offered to wager that, with his trusty gun, he could give them such an exhibition of skill as they had never before seen.

“There goes, as I speak,” said he, “a roe on Halland’s Mountains.”

His companions laughed at him, not believing that he could know what was transpiring at a distance of several miles, which was the least that lay between them and the spot indicated.

“I will wager you that I need go no farther than the door to shoot him for you,” persevered the watchman in defiant tones.

“Nonsense!” said the others.

“Come, will you wager something worth the while? Say two cans of ale.”

“Done! Two cans of ale, it shall be.” And the company betook themselves to the yard in front of the hut.

It was a frosty autumn evening. The wind chased the clouds over the sky, and the half moon cast fitful reflections through the breaks over the neighborhood. In a few minutes a something was seen moving rapidly along the edge of a thicket on the farther side of a little glade. The watchman threw his gun carelessly to his shoulder and fired. A derisive laugh was echo to the report. No mortal, thought they, in such uncertain light and at such a distance, could shoot a deer in flight.

The watchman, certain of his game, hastened across the glade, followed by his companions, to whom the event meant, at least, two cans of ale.

It would not be easy to picture the surprise of the doubters, when, upon arriving at the thicket, they discovered, lying upon the ground, bathed in foam and his tongue hanging from his mouth, a magnificent stag, pierced through the heart by the deadly bullet, his life blood fast coloring his bed of autumn leaves a brighter hue.

What unseen power has brought this poor animal from Halland’s Mountains in a bare half hour? Such were the thoughts of the watchman’s companions as they retired in silence to the hut.

The watchman received his two cans of ale, but no one seemed inclined to join him in disposing of them. They now understood with what sort of a man they were having to do. It was evident to them that the watchman was in league with the Evil One himself, and they henceforth guarded themselves carefully against companionship with him after dark.

STOMPE PILT.

At a little distance from Baal Mountain, in the parish of Filkestad, in Willand’s Härad, lies a hill where, formerly, lived a giant named Stompe Pilt.

It happened one day, that a Goatherd came that way, driving his goats before him, up the hill.

“Who comes there?” demanded the Giant, rushing out of the hill, with a large flint stone in his fist, when he discovered the Goatherd.

“It is I, if you will know,” responded the Herder, continuing his way up the hill with his flock.

“If you come up here I will squeeze you into fragments as I do this stone,” shrieked the Giant, and crushed the stone between his fingers into fine sand.

“Then I will squeeze water out of you as I do out of this stone,” replied the Herder, taking a new-made cheese from his bag and squeezing it so that the whey ran between his fingers to the ground.

“Are you not afraid?” asked the Giant.

“Not of you,” replied the Herder.

“Then let us fight,” continued Stompe Pilt.

“All right,” responded the Goatherd, “but let us first taunt each other so that we will become right angry, for taunting will beget anger and anger will give us cause to fight.”

“Very well, and I will begin,” said the Giant.

“Go ahead, and I will follow you,” said the Herder.

“You shall become a crooked nose hobgoblin,” cried the Giant.

“You shall become a flying devil,” retorted the Herder, and from his bow shot a sharp arrow into the body of the Giant.

“What is that?” inquired the Giant, endeavoring to pull the arrow from his flesh.

“That is a taunt,” replied the Herder.

“Why has it feathers?” asked the Giant.

“In order that it may fly straight and rapidly,” answered the Herder.

“Why does it stick so fast?” asked the Giant.

“Because it has taken root in your body,” was the answer.

“Have you more of such?” inquired the Giant.

“There, you have another,” said the Herder, and shot another arrow into the Giant’s body.

“Aj! aj!” shrieked Stompe Pilt; “are you not angry enough to fight?”

“No, I have not yet taunted you enough,” replied the Herder, setting an arrow to his bowstring.

“Drive your goats where you will. I can’t endure your taunting, much less your blows,” shrieked Stompe Pilt, and sprang into the hill again.

Thus the Herder was saved by means of his bravery and ingenuity.

THE GIANT FINN AND LUND’S CATHEDRAL. [2]

In the days long gone by there lived in Helgonabacken—the Hills of Helgona—near Lund, a family of giants who one day heard, with great anxiety and consternation, that a holy man had come into the country, from Saxony, to build a church to the White Christ.

While Laurentius, such was the holy man’s name, was selecting his site and laying out the plans for the temple, there stood at his side, one day, none other than Finn, the giant of Helgonabacken, who thus addressed him: “Truly the White Christ is a God worthy of such a temple, and I will build it for you, if, when it is finished, you will tell me what my name is; but, mark well my condition, oh, wise man, if you can not tell me, you must give to my little ones the two small torches—the sun and the moon—that travel yonder over heaven’s expanse.”

Now, it is so ordered in the giant world that it is of vital importance the name of the giant should be kept from mankind. Should it be revealed the giant must die, and man is freed from all obligations that may have been imposed upon him by compact with the giant.

Laurentius could not reasonably promise so much but anxious to have the church built, he offered, instead, his eyes, trusting to fortune to discover to him the giant’s name before the completion of the church. The giant, satisfied with the bargain, entered at once upon his work, and with wonderful rapidity the church grew upward. Soon there remained nothing more to complete it than to set one stone on the tower.

The day preceding that on which it was expected this last stone would be put in place Laurentius stood on Helgonabacken in deep melancholy. It seemed inevitable that he must lose his eyes, and that he was now taking his last look at the light of heaven and all that had made the world and life so attractive to him. Next day all would be darkness and sorrow. During these gloomy reflections he heard the cry of a child from within the hill, and the voice of the giant mother endeavoring to quiet it with a song, in which he clearly distinguished the words: “Silent, silent, little son of mine, morning will bring your father Finn, with either moon and sun or the priest Laurentius’ eyes.”

Beside himself with joy, Laurentius hastened to the church. “Come down, Finn!” he cried, “the stone that now remains we ourselves can set—come down, Finn, we no longer need your help!”

Foaming with rage, the Giant rushed from the tower to the ground, and laying hold of one of the pillars tried to pull the church down. At this instant his wife with her child joined him. She, too, grasped a pillar and would help her husband in the work of destruction, but just as the building was tottering to the point of falling, they were both turned to stones, and there they lie to-day, each embracing a pillar.

THE LORD OF ROSENDAL. [3]

In the beginning of the Sixteenth Century there lived in Skåne a nobleman, Andres Bille, Lord of Rosendal, who was very severe toward his dependents, and it was not unusual that a disobedient servant was put in chains, and even into the castle dungeons.

One day Bille’s intended made a visit to Rosendal. Upon entering the court-yard almost the first object that attracted her attention was a peasant tethered like a horse. She inquiring as to the cause of such treatment, Bille informed her that the servant had come late to work, and was now suffering only well-merited punishment. The young woman begged Bille to set the man at liberty, but this he refused to do, and told her, emphatically, that she must not interpose in his affairs.

“When the intended wife,” said the young lady, as she returned to her carriage, “is refused a boon so small, what will be the fate of the wife?” and thereupon she commanded her coachman to drive her home at once, and resolved to come no more to Rosendal.

People predicted that such a heartless man could not possibly be at rest in his grave, and true to the prediction, Bille, after his death and burial, came every night, in spirit, to Rosendal. Halting his white team in the court-yard, with stealthy steps he would make his way to his former bed-chamber where he would spend the night until cock-crow. If the bed had been prepared all was quiet in the chamber, otherwise such a dreadful noise followed that there was no such thing as sleep in the castle. Always, upon going to the room in the morning, the bed clothes were found tossed about and soiled as if a dog had occupied the bed.

When the specter had gone on in this manner for a number of years, the new owner of the estate applied to a pious priest in Hässlunda, Master Steffan, and begged him to put a stop to these troublesome visits. To this end the priest, one day, accompanied by a fellow priest, set out for Kropp’s Church, where Bille was buried. On the stroke of 12 o’clock, midnight, the grave opened and the ghost of the dead lord stepped forth. Father Steffan’s companion at once took to his heels, but Father Steffan remained and began to read from a book he had with him. During the reading the ghost became larger and larger, but the priest would not be frightened. Finally the apparition interrupted the reading and addressed the priest.

“Is that you, Steffan, the goose thief?”

“It is, indeed, I,” replied the priest, “and it is true that in my boyhood I stole a goose, but with the money received for the goose I bought a Bible, and with that Bible I will send you to hell, you evil spirit.” Whereupon he struck the specter such a blow on the forehead with the Bible that it sank again into purgatory.

Unfortunately, because of the truth of Bille’s accusation and that it came from Bille, the priest’s prayers and reading lost much of potency, and he was unable to enforce upon the ghost entire quietude. Nevertheless, so much was accomplished that Bille now comes to Rosendal only once a year.

THE MASTER OF UGERUP. [4]

In the parish of Köpinge, on the northern bank of a stream which, a short distance below Lake Helga, flows into the river Helga, lies an old mansion, Ugerup or Ugarp, known in early days as the seat of the Ugerup family, famous in the history of Denmark.

In the middle of the Sixteenth Century the estate was owned by Senator Axel Ugerup. On the Näs estate, a few miles distant, dwelt the wealthy Tage Thott, at that time one of the richest men in Skåne.

Herr Arild, Alex Ugerup’s son, and Thale, Tage Thott’s fair daughter, had, it may be said, grown up together, and even in childhood, had conceived a strong love for each other.

When Arild was yet a young man he was made embassador to Sweden by the Danish Government, in which capacity he took part in the coronation of Erik XIV. Upon his return to Ugerup he renewed his attentions to his boyhood’s love, and without difficulty obtained her consent and that of her parents to a union.

Not long thereafter war broke out between Sweden and Denmark. With anxiety and distress the lovers heard the call to arms. The flower of Danish knighthood hastened to place themselves under the ensign of their country, where even for Arild Ugerup a place was prepared. At leave taking the lovers promised each other eternal fidelity, and Arild was soon in Copenhagen, where he was given a position in the navy.

In the beginning the Danes met with some success, but soon the tables were turned. At Öland Klas Kristenson Horn defeated the united Danish and Leibich flotillas, capturing three ships, with their crews and belongings. Among the captured was Arild Ugerup, who was carried, a prisoner, to Stockholm, where three short years before he was an honored visitor and won his knightly spurs.

The friends of Arild entertained little hope that they would ever see him again, and his rivals for the hand of Thale persistently renewed their suits. Tage Thott, who saw his daughter decline the attentions of one lover after another, decided, finally, that this conduct must not continue, and made known to his daughter that she must choose a husband from among the many available and desirable young men seeking her hand. Thale took this announcement very much to heart, but her prayers and tears were without avail. Spring succeeded winter and no Arild came. Meanwhile, the unrelenting father had made a choice and fixed upon a day when the union should take place.

During this time Arild, languishing in his prison, busied his brain in the effort to find some means of escape, but plan after plan was rejected as impracticable, until it occurred to him to make use of his rank and acquaintance with the King. So, not long thereafter, he sent to King Erik a petition, asking permission to go home on parole, for the purpose of solemnizing his wedding, also to be permitted to remain long enough in Ugerup to sow and gather his crops. The King readily granted his petition, since Arild promised, on his knightly honor, to return to his confinement as soon as his harvest was ripe.

He at once hastened to Skåne where he was not long in learning what had transpired during his absence, and that Thale, at her father’s bidding, was about to be wedded to another. Continuing his journey to Näs, where his arrival caused both rejoicing and consternation, he presented himself to Tage and demanded Thale to wife, as had been promised him. Knight Tage, however, would not listen to such a thing as a change from his plans, and declared firmly that his daughter should belong to him whom he had selected for her, but Arild made a speedy end to the trouble. By strategy, he carried his bride away in secret to Denmark, where they were shortly afterward married. Tage, outwitted, made the best of the matter and accepted the situation, whereupon Arild and his wife returned to Ugerup.

Arild now had time to think about his promise to the King, and how he might, at the same time, keep it and not be separated from his wife. It would now profit to sow seeds that would not mature soon, so the fields that had heretofore been devoted to corn were planted with the seeds of the pine tree.

When the autumn had passed, and the King thought the harvest must, by this time, have been gathered, he sent Arild a request to come to Stockholm. But Arild convinced the messenger that his seeds had not yet sprouted, much less ripened.

When King Erik was made acquainted with the state of affairs, he could do no less than approve the ingenious method adopted by Arild to obtain his freedom without breaking his word, and allowed the matter to rest.

The product of Arild’s pine seeds is now shown in a magnificent forest at Ugerup.

Many other stories are told in Skåne about Arild Ugerup and his wife. Among others, it is related of the former that he was endowed with marvelous strength, and that in the arch of the gateway opening into the estate was a pair of iron hooks, which, when coming home from Helsingborg, Arild was wont to catch hold of, and lift himself and horse together some distance off the ground, after which little exercise he would ride on.

His wife, Thale, was, like her husband, very strong, very good and benevolent, likewise very generous toward her dependents. A story is told of her, that one mid-summer evening, when the servants of the estate were gathered on the green for a dance, she requested her husband to give the people as much food and drink as she could carry at one load, and her request being, of course, granted, she piled up two great heaps of beef, pork and bread, which, with two barrels of ale, one under each arm, she carried out onto the green, with ease.

THE GHOST AT FJELKINGE.

During the early half of the Seventeenth Century many of the best estates in Skåne belonged to the family of Barkenow, or more correctly, to the principal representative of the family, Madame Margaretta Barkenow, daughter of the renowned general and governor-general, Count Rutger Von Ascheberg, and wife of Colonel Kjell Kristofer Barkenow.

A widow at twenty-nine, she took upon herself the management of her many estates, in the conduct of which she ever manifested an indomitable, indefatigable energy, and a never-ceasing care for her numerous dependents.

On a journey over her estates, Madame Margaretta came, one evening, to Fjelkinge’s inn, and persisted in sleeping in a room which was called the “ghost’s room.” A traveler had, a few years before, slept in this room, and as it was supposed had been murdered, at least the man and his effects had disappeared, leaving no trace of what had become of them. After this his ghost appeared in the room nightly, and those who were acquainted with the circumstance, traveled to the next post, in the dark, rather than choose such quarters for the night. Margaretta was, however, not among this number. She possessed greater courage, and without fear chose the chamber for her sleeping room.

After her evening prayers she retired to bed and sleep, leaving the lamp burning. At twelve o’clock she was awakened by the lifting up of two boards in the floor, and from the opening a bloody form appeared, with a cloven head hanging upon its shoulders.

“Noble lady,” whispered the apparition, “I beg you prepare, for a murdered man, a resting place in consecrated ground, and speed the murderer to his just punishment.”

Pure in heart, therefore not alarmed, Lady Margaretta beckoned the apparition to come nearer, which it did, informing her that it had entreated others, who after the murder had slept in the room, but that none had the courage to comply. Then Lady Margaretta took from her finger a gold ring, laid it in the gaping wound, and bound the apparition’s head up with her pocket handerchief. With a glance of unspeakable thankfulness the ghost revealed the name of the murderer and disappeared noiselessly beneath the floor.

The following morning Lady Margaretta instructed the bailiff of the estate to assemble the people at the post house, where she informed them what had happened during the night, and commanded that the planks of the floor be taken up. Here, under the ground, was discovered a half decomposed corpse, with the countess’ ring in the hole in its skull, and her handkerchief bound around its head.

At sight of this, one of those present grew pale and fainted to the ground. Upon being revived he confessed that he had murdered the traveler and robbed him of his goods. He was condemned to death for his crime, and the murdered man received burial in the parish church-yard.

The ring, which is peculiarly formed and set with a large grayish chased stone, remains even now in the keeping of the Barkenow family, and is believed to possess miraculous powers in sickness, against evil spirits and other misfortunes. When one of the family dies it is said that a red, bloodlike spot appears upon the stone.

LJUNGBY HORN AND PIPE. [5]

On the estates of Ljungby there lies a large stone called Maglestone, under which the Trolls, in olden times, were wont to assemble and, with dancing and games, celebrate their Christmas.

One Christmas night Lady Cissela Ulfstand, sitting in her mansion, listening to the merry-making of the Trolls under the stone, and curious to have a better knowledge of these mysterious mountain people, assembled her menservants and promised the best horse in her stables to him who would ride to Maglestone, at Vesper hour, and bring her a full account of the doings there.

One of her swains, a daring young fellow, accepted the offer, and a little later set out on his way. Arriving at the stone, he discovered it lifted from the ground, supported on pillars of gold, and under it the Trolls in the midst of their revelry.

Upon discovering the horseman a young Troll woman, leaving the others, approached him bearing a drinking horn and pipe. These, upon reaching his side, she placed in the young man’s hand, with directions to first drink from the horn to the health of the Mountain King, then blow three times on the pipe, at the same time whispering some words of caution in his ears, whereupon he threw the contents of the horn over his shoulder and set off at the utmost speed, over fields and meadows, toward home. The Trolls followed him closely with great clamor, but he flew before them across the drawbridge, which was at once pulled up, and proceeded to place the horn and pipe in the hands of his mistress.

Outside, across the moat, the Trolls now stood, promising Lady Cissela great happiness and riches if she would return to them their horn and pipe, and declaring that, otherwise, great misfortune and destruction would overtake her and her family, and that it should go especially hard with the young man who had dared to deprive them of the precious articles. True to the predictions, the young man died on the third day thereafter and the horse which he rode fell dead a day later.

During the war of 1645 Field Marshal Gustaf Horn, whose headquarters were at Fjelkinge, having heard this story, and wishing to see the horn and pipe, requested that they be brought to him. The possessor, Axel Gyllerstierna, who then owned Ljungby, forwarded them, accompanied with earnest prayers that they be returned to him as soon as possible. Horn’s curiosity was soon satisfied, and he felt no desire to retain them longer in his possession, for while he did he was disturbed every night by unseemly noises about his quarters, which ceased, when, under the escort of a company of cavalry, he sent them back to Ljungby.

Ten years later there took place a still more wonderful circumstance. Henrik Nilsson, the priest at Ljungby, borrowed the strange articles for the purpose of showing them to his brothers-in-law who were then visiting him. During the night the priest’s mother-in-law, Lady Anna Conradi, who was one of the family, was awakened by the light of a candle in her room. The bed curtains were drawn back and upon her bed a basket was dropped wherein sat five small children, who in chorus set up a cry:

“O you, who are noted for your kindness, please return to us our horn!”

To her question why they desired it and what value it had to them, they answered:

“For our people’s sake.”

When she would no longer listen to their pleading they departed, saying they would come again three nights later.

On Thursday night, and the third following their first visit, there was again a light in her room. When Lady Anna drew back the bed curtain she discovered her chamber occupied by a great number of little men, and among them the Troll King himself, approaching her under a canopy of silver cloth upheld on silver poles borne by four servants. His skin was a dark brown and his hair, of which only a tuft was left on his forehead and one by each ear, black and woolly. Softly he neared the bed, holding forth a horn richly adorned with gold chains and massive gold buttons, which he proffered the lady in exchange for the genuine horn. But she was not to be persuaded, and consigned them to God, if they belonged to him, and to the devil, if they were his offspring, whereupon the Trolls quietly and sorrowfully departed.

Soon thereafter it was reported that a peasant’s child had been carried off by the Trolls. By means of ringing the church bells it was, however, returned to its mother. The boy related that the Trolls were not pretty, but had large noses and mouths; that the man under Maglestone was called Klausa and his wife Otta. That they sucked the moisture from the food of mankind and so sustained themselves; that they obeyed one king; that they were often at variance with each other, also, that they spoke the language of the country. Lord Chancellor Coyet, who published, “A Narrative of Ljungby Horn and Pipe,” dated February 11, 1692, says that he knew this boy, who was then twenty-seven years old, also his mother, but admits that both were disposed to superstition and that their understandings were as feeble as their bodies.

THE SWAN MAIDEN. [6]

A young peasant, in the parish of Mellby, who often amused himself with hunting, saw one day three swans flying toward him, which settled down upon the strand of a sound near by.

Approaching the place, he was astonished at seeing the three swans divest themselves of their feathery attire, which they threw into the grass, and three maidens of dazzling beauty step forth and spring into the water.

After sporting in the waves awhile they returned to the land, where they resumed their former garb and shape and flew away in the same direction from which they came.

One of them, the youngest and fairest, had, in the meantime, so smitten the young hunter that neither night nor day could he tear his thoughts from the bright image.

His mother, noticing that something was wrong with her son, and that the chase, which had formerly been his favorite pleasure, had lost its attractions, asked him finally the cause of his melancholy, whereupon he related to her what he had seen, and declared that there was no longer any happiness in this life for him if he could not possess the fair swan maiden.

“Nothing is easier,” said the mother. “Go at sunset next Thursday evening to the place where you last saw her. When the three swans come give attention to where your chosen one lays her feathery garb, take it and hasten away.”

The young man listened to his mother’s instructions, and, betaking himself, the following Thursday evening, to a convenient hiding place near the sound, he waited, with impatience, the coming of the swans. The sun was just sinking behind the trees when the young man’s ears were greeted by a whizzing in the air, and the three swans settled down upon the beach, as on their former visit.

As soon as they had laid off their swan attire they were again transformed into the most beautiful maidens, and, springing out upon the white sand, they were soon enjoying themselves in the water.

From his hiding place the young hunter had taken careful note of where his enchantress had laid her swan feathers. Stealing softly forth, he took them and returned to his place of concealment in the surrounding foliage.

Soon thereafter two of the swans were heard to fly away, but the third, in search of her clothes, discovered the young man, before whom, believing him responsible for their disappearance, she fell upon her knees and prayed that her swan attire might be returned to her. The hunter was, however, unwilling to yield the beautiful prize, and, casting a cloak around her shoulders, carried her home.

Preparations were soon made for a magnificent wedding, which took place in due form, and the couple dwelt lovingly and contentedly together.

One Thursday evening, seven years later, the hunter related to her how he had sought and won his wife. He brought forth and showed her, also, the white swan feathers of her former days. No sooner were they placed in her hands than she was transformed once more into a swan, and instantly took flight through the open window. In breathless astonishment, the man stared wildly after his rapidly vanishing wife, and before a year and a day had passed, he was laid, with his longings and sorrows, in his allotted place in the village church-yard.

THE KNIGHT OF ELLENHOLM.

Many, many years ago there lived, in Ellenholm Castle, a knight, who, wishing to attend Christmas matins at Morrum’s Church, with a long journey before him, and anxious to be present if possible at first matins, set out from the castle, accompanied by his groom, immediately after midnight. Some distance on the way, feeling sleepy, he instructed the groom to ride on while he dismounted and sat down by the roadside, at the foot of a mountain, to take a nap and refresh himself.

He had been sitting only a few minutes when a monster giantess came and bade him follow her into the mountain, which he did, and was conducted to the presence of her giant husband. Here all kinds of tempting viands were set before him, but the Knight, who knew well into what kind of company he had fallen, declined to partake of the food.

Offended at this, the woman drew forth a knife and addressed the Knight:

“Do you recognize this? It is the one with which you chopped me in the thigh when, one time, I was gathering hay for my calves. Father, what do you think we ought to do with him?”

“Let him go,” said the Giant. “We can do nothing to him for he invokes the Great Master too much.”

“So be it,” said the Giantess, “but he shall have something to remember me by.” Whereupon she broke the Knight’s little finger.

He soon discovered himself in the open air again, and the groom who had returned to search for his master found him in the place where he had left him, but with a little finger broken—a warning to every one not to sleep on the way to church.

THE TROLLS OF SKURUGATA. [7]

It is generally understood that Trolls, when their territory is encroached upon by mankind, withdraw to some more secluded place. So when Eksjö was built, those that dwelt in that vicinity moved to Skurugata, a defile between two high mountains whose perpendicular sides rise so near to each other as to leave the bottom in continual semi-darkness and gloom.

Here, it may be supposed, they were left in peace and tranquility. Not so, however, for it is related that upon the occasion of the annual meeting of troops at Ränneslätt, a whole battalion of Småland grenadiers repeatedly marched through, with beating drums and blowing horns, and that sometimes they fired a volley from their guns, which so alarmed the Trolls that it is now a question whether any are still remaining there.

In the neighborhood of the same mountain gulch is a very sacred fountain where those living thereabouts, in former times are said to have offered sacrifices to their patron saint. Whether this custom is now continued is not known. As intelligence increases this and all other peculiar customs will soon belong entirely to the province of tradition. A few decades ago this was not so; then one could, according to the narrations of old men and women, have had the pleasure of both seeing and talking with the Trolls.

There was once a hunter named Pelle Katt, who, one day, went to Skurugata for the purpose of shooting woodcock, but though it was the mating season, when birds are ordinarily plenty and tame, the hunt was unsuccessful. It was as though ordained. The puffy woodcock and his hens kept out of the way of the murderous shot. Pelle was angry, and suspecting that the Trolls had bewitched his gun, he swore and cursed the Trolls generally, and especially those that lived in Skurugata, whose mouth he was just passing, when a woman stepped out, small in stature and peculiar in feature, bearing a little poodle dog in her arms.

“I bring you greeting from my mistress; she says you are to shoot this dog,” said she, approaching Pelle.

“Tie it there to that tree and it shall be done before it can get upon its feet,” answered Pelle.

This was done, and the little woman disappeared between the mountains. Pelle raised his gun and sent a charge of shot through the dog’s head. But what a sight met his gaze when the smoke had disappeared! There lay his own little child wrapped in a dog’s hide.

Pelle Katt’s habits were not the best. He was fond of drink, quarrelsome and boisterous, and often in his drunken fits declared that he feared neither God nor the devil.

Now, for the first time in his life, he was amazed and crestfallen.

“O God! What have I now done!” he cried.

His knees smote together and the sweat ran copiously from every pore.

“Here you have your reward,” said the Troll woman, who now reappeared and threw a dollar piece to Pelle, so that it fell in his open hand, to which it stuck fast, and hastily picking up the dead child bore it away.

In a rage, Pelle threw the dollar piece after the vanishing figure, at the same time calling out:

“I will take no pay from you for such a deed. Here you have your gift again, you detestable Troll.”

A hoarse laugh answered from the mountain.

Pelle went home. The child was absent. His wife cried, but Pelle kept still and went to the ale house. He had no money with which to buy brandy in order to drown his sorrows, but after his old custom he stuck his fingers in his vest pocket to feel if there might not be a penny there. Behold! There was the dollar piece which he had recently cast from him. He dropped it upon the ale house counter and received a drink which truly made him forget his dead child, his wife, himself, heaven, hell and all.

When he became sober the coin was again found in his pocket. He again threw it away, and several times thereafter, but always found it in his pocket when searching it for money. So he continued to drink more and more daily, until, finally, he drank himself into that sleep that knows no waking.

So goes the story of Pelle Katt and the Trolls in Skurugata.

KETTIL RUNSKE. [8]

On the island of Vising, in Lake Vetter, there lived in olden times, two mighty kings, the one in Näsbo and the other in the castle of Borga, at opposite extremities of the island. A controversy arising about the division of land, the King of Näsbo consulted a Troll named Gilbertil, who lived in the parish of Ölmstad, in Östergötland, and engaged him to dig a ditch through the island, thus dividing it into two parts. Gilbertil undertook the work, and began digging at Näs, where a deep pit, even to this day, is pointed out as marking the spot. When the king of Borga became aware of this, he sent an invitation to Kettil Runske, another notorious Troll man who lived in the parish of Habo, in Vestergötland. Kettil Runske accepted the invitation, and at once set out for the island with the returning messengers, to whom his presence on the boat, though he was invisible, was made known because of the boat being borne down into the water to its gunwale. They were also made aware of his departure from them, when they neared the castle, by the sudden rising of the boat as if relieved of a heavy burden.

To accomplish his undertaking, Gilbertil intended, apparently, to make an underground canal from shore to shore of the island, and allow the water to complete the excavation, and had already progressed to a point just north of Kumlaby, about half way through the island, when Kettil discovered his whereabouts, and opening the grounds above him commanded Gilbertil to cease digging. Gilbertil met the command with mockery and scorn, whereupon Kettil threw his Troll staff at him. Gilbertil intercepted the missile in the air, but his hands clove to the staff so that he could not free them. In the effort to release himself he endeavored to break it with his feet, but they also stuck to it. In extreme rage he then attempted to tear himself loose with his teeth, which also became fastened. Thus bound, hands, feet and mouth, Kettil threw him into the deep hole which is now to be seen in the meadow of Kumlaby, and which has received the name of Gilbertil’s hole.

DAME SOÅSAN. [9]

In early times there lived in Soåsan, a range of hills not far from the well-known city of Eksjö, a woman Troll who was called Dame Soåsan. She and her forefathers had, for ages, dwelt there, but when the soldiers came and fired their guns—cracked their nuts, as the mountain folk expressed it—on the camp ground of Ränneslätt, the place became intolerable to her and she departed to her sister’s, an equally distinguished Troll, who lived in Skurugata, which has been mentioned in a preceding story.

Dame Soåsan was very clever and rich, also the possessor of a very bad temper. It was advisable, therefore, not to anger her in any way, for such as were so unfortunate were instantly punished.

A trooper of that time, belonging to the Hussars of Småland, by name Grevendal, serving under Apelarp in Flisby parish, stood one morning on guard in a distant part of the drill grounds, when he saw, wandering toward him, along the edge of a wood, a very little old woman, whom he rashly assailed with scoffing and vile epithets, whereupon he received a blow on the ear from some unseen hand, which sent him flying to the top of a tall pine tree near by, where he remained unable to descend until assisted down by his comrades.

Toward those who were careful not to offend her the woman exhibited much kindness and extended many favors. A poor old woman of the human family living near Soåsan, in a little hut, was one time in great distress, her table bare and no one near to help her, with famine, already a guest in her hut, menacing her with terrible glare.

Late one evening a knock was heard upon the hut door.

“Come in, in the name of the Lord,” answered the old woman, wondering who her visitor might be.

“In that name I can not enter, but here is work for you from the mistress of the mountain. Spin beautiful yarn, but do not wet the threads with spittle, for then it will become christened and that the madam will not tolerate.”

“Where shall I leave the yarn?” asked the trembling woman.

“Go straight forward into the woods, where you will find a smooth green lawn. Lay the yarn there and next day you shall have your pay.”

The old woman began at once to spin the flax which she found outside the cottage door, but during the work stood a vessel of water beside her with which to wet the thread.

The yarn was soon finished and she betook herself, with profit and pleasure in prospect, to the wood. As the Troll’s servant maid had declared she came to a beautiful glade encircled by high trees. She there laid down the yarn and hastened to return home, not daring to look behind her. The next day she went again to the spot and found a new bundle of flax, also several silver pieces.

Now followed a period of prosperity for the poor woman. She accumulated money from her work, became rich, but at the same time avaricious, and forgot the prayers, which she had never before neglected, when she retired to rest.

Finally, she did not even trouble herself to keep faith with the Trolls, but spun the yarn according to general custom, wetting the thread with her spittle.

The skeins of yarn were deposited in the usual place, but when she went the next day to get her reward she was unable to find the glade again, and in the end went astray in the woods, from which she did not succeed in finding her way home before a whole day later. Upon arriving home, as was her every-day custom, she brought forth and was about to count over her money, when she found that all the silver pieces had been transformed into small stones.

Want pursued her now with greater severity than ever, for none would help one who was known to have had to do with the infamous Soåsan dame, and the old woman died shortly after in great poverty and distress.

A girl who many years ago was a servant in the house of a Senator of Eksjö, named Lind, went one day to find the cattle, which usually grazed in the woods surrounding Soåsan. The animals, for some time back, had not thrived upon the pastures allotted them and were wont to wander far away in search of food, it was supposed, so, at times the girl, notwithstanding the most diligent search, was unable to find them, and when they were found, the cows had already been milked. This day she went plodding sadly along through the dark woods, thinking of the scolding which awaited her at home, when she returned with neither cows nor milk; her mind was also busied with the many stories she had heard about ghosts and Trolls who infested the woods, when she saw two pair of Pigmies, a boy and girl, sitting under the shadow of a large pine tree.

“It is best to be polite when on the Trolls’ own ground,” thought the girl. Whereupon she addressed the Troll infants in a very friendly manner and invited each to partake of some bread and butter which she had with her in her little bag. The children ate with exceeding greed, a disgusting sight, as they had extremely large mouths into which the bread and butter vanished rapidly. When the girl was about to depart she heard a voice saying, “As you have taken pity on my children, you shall hereafter escape searching after the cows. Go home! They stand at the gate.”

From that day the girl no longer had to search for the cows; they came to the gate every night of their own accord, sweet-laden with a rich tribute of the most excellent milk.

THE GIANT PUKE. [10]

In the parish of Lofta in the department of North Tjust there lies, near the sea, a mountain called Puke Mountain. From the land side running into the mountain, there is a long fissure terminating in a cave or hall, where formerly lived a giant called Puke, concerning whom many stories are still quite prevalent among the people.

When the church at Lofta was built the giant was sorely tormented by the church bells. He suffered great discomfort even from the water courses which gurgled out of the mountain, and in a meadow directly north of Lofta Church, was formed a pond, Kofre Spring, in which holy baptism was sometimes performed.

Puke often declared that he must depart from his mountain because of Kofre Spring and Lofta scolding, meaning the church bells in Lofta.

One Sunday the Giant was more than usually disturbed by the long continued bell ringing, and sent his daughter to the top of the mountain, from which, with her apron strings converted into a sling, she threw an enormous stone at the church tower. But the force was too great, and the stone fell upon the other side of the church, where it lies to this day, as large as a good sized cottage.

Some days later the giant maiden, while wandering over the surrounding country, was attracted by three children at play on a hill near by. They had discovered a fallen branch of an oak tree, and to this they had fastened a rope, pretending it was a plow, which one was holding as the others dragged it over the ground. Surprised at this curious implement and the small creatures, she gathered them all into her apron and ran home with them to her giant father. He, however, found no pleasure in the intended playthings but said only:

“Take them out again, our time is past; it is now these who shall rule over us.”

In the end Puke became dissatisfied with everything and moved to Götland, where he was some time later found by a ship’s master, to whom he gave a box, and bade him offer it upon the altar at Lofta while the people were in church, cautioning him strongly not to open it before.

“If you do as I bid you,” said the Giant, “you will find, under the left fore-foot of Lofta’s white mare—meaning the church—a key, with which you are to proceed to Puke Mountain. There you will see a door, which you shall open. When you are inside you will meet two black dogs. Do not be afraid of them, but press forward into the room, where you will find a table and upon it many beautiful silver vessels. Of them you may take the largest, but if you take anything more, misfortune will surely overtake you.”