Chapter II: Part 2

The captain kept this all in mind, but when he approached Puke Mountain, on his journey homeward, the conversation of the ship’s people was turned to the box. After many deliberations, it was determined to throw it overboard onto a small island which lay near by. This was done, and upon the instant the island was in flames, and even to-day it is brown and desolate as if it had recently been swept by a fire.

KATRINEHOLM MANOR.

In one of the picturesque valleys of romantic Småland and on the Black River is a noted waterfall called Stalpet, which, after placidly winding, by many hundred bends, for a considerable distance, through green meadows, here makes a precipitous descent over a rocky cliff, then quietly pursues its course to a lake a short distance beyond.

Not far from Stalpet lies an old manor, dark, gloomy and unoccupied. A feeling of oppression comes over one in the presence of this large building, barred gates and nailed up windows, and the question is asked, why should this naturally beautiful place be untenanted? Why is there not, at least, a watchman or an attendant? There must be some unusual reason for such a condition of things.

Let us listen to the narration of a good old woman, resident in the neighborhood, who once gave us the story. We use her words, which, may be, enter too much into the detail, but bear with them the natural freshness and coloring that, it is hoped, will not be tedious to the reader. We are given to understand that if we will have the story we must begin at the beginning, and that is, like “Milton’s Paradise Lost,” with the beginning of all things.

“Know that when Satan was cast out of heaven, on account of his pride, and fell to the earth, there were other spirits, which, like him, were also cast out. These spirits, in their fall, were borne hither and thither on the winds like the golden leaves in the autumn storm, falling to earth finally, some into the sea, some into the forests and some upon the mountains. Where they fell there they remained, so the saying runs, and found there their field of action. After their abiding places they were given different names. Thus we have sea nymphs, mountain fairies, wood fairies, elves and other spirits, all of which are described in the catechism.

Now, it happened, that on that day two spirits fell upon the rock where this old Katrineholm Manor house now stands. In this mountain their offspring lived many hundreds, yes, thousands of years. Though some of them were from time to time killed by lightning and otherwise, they were not exterminated and had not been approached by any human being.

It happened, a long time ago, that a gentleman, who owned this estate, wishing to build himself a residence, and, like a wise architect, to have a solid foundation for it, selected this rock.

The mountain king—for he was a king among his people—was very much displeased with this, but his wife, who was of a milder disposition, pacified her husband and urged him to wait and do their neighbors no harm until it could be known whether harm might be expected from them.

When the house was finished the gentleman married a beautiful young lady whose presence at once filled it with sunshine and joy. But sorrow visits many who little expect it and so it was here.

One day when the young wife was alone in her work-room, a little woman, unexpectedly and unannounced, stood before her. Bowing, she said: “My mistress bids that you visit her, and directs me to say to you that if you consent she will reward you richly.” The young wife wondered much at such a request, but having a brave heart and a clear conscience, she promised to follow. The little woman led the way down stairs to the cellar, where she opened a door, until now undiscovered, revealing a passage into the mountain. Entering the passage, which was long and dark, she finally emerged into a large, well-lighted cave, whose walls were sparkling with gold and silver. Here, pacing back and forth, as if in great anguish, was a little man who looked at the new comer searchingly, and with an humble and pleading expression in his eyes, but said nothing. The little woman pushed aside a curtain to an inner cave, at the further end of which the visitor saw, lying upon an elegant bed, another little woman sick and laboring in child-birth. The Christian visitor’s presence had the effect to almost immediately still the pains of the suffering woman, whereupon she drew forth a box filled with precious stones, pearls and jewels. “Take this as a memento of your visit to me, but let none know what has happened to you this day, for as surely as you do great misfortune will overtake you and yours,” said the Mountain Queen, and directed that the young wife be given safe conduct to her room again. As soon as left alone the precious box was carefully secreted.

Time sped on. Everything went well, and in due time the young wife herself became the mother of two beautiful sons. One day, during the mother’s absence, the boys discovered the secreted box, and had just begun to play with it when their father entered. He was greatly surprised to find such a treasure in the hands of the children and began at once to question the mother, who had also entered, as to how she became its possessor. At first she refused to betray the secret, and with her refusal the husband became more curious and suspicious, finally angry, when he declared his wife a Troll, and that he himself had seen her come riding through the air on a broomstick. The poor wife was then obliged to reveal her visit to the Troll queen and the circumstances attending it.

“You and I have seen our happiest days, for your curiosity will bring us greater misfortune than you have dreamed of,” said she.

A few days later there appeared in the adjacent lake an island, which, strangely enough, seemed to rise from its bosom when anything remarkable was about to take place. It is related that shortly before the death of Charles XII., also before that of Gustav III., the island became visible, and it is even said that a king one time carved his name on a stone on the island, and that stone and name, when, on another occasion the island was visible, were to be seen.

Whether the island was now again visible by some power of the Trolls in unison with the water spirits is not known; it is enough that the island appeared, and that the lord of the manor became possessed with a great desire to go to and inspect it.

He expressed a wish that his wife and boys should accompany him. The mother, who foresaw misfortune, opposed the project with all her energy, and upon her knees begged and prayed her husband to postpone his visit, but without avail.

Finally, the willful man took the boys, leaving his wife at home, and rowed out to the island. Just as the boat touched the enchanted island both boys sprang upon it, and at the same instant both island and boys vanished from the father’s sight to be seen no more.

The poor mother mourned herself to death, and the father departed to foreign lands, where he also died, but the building on Katrineholm has never since been occupied, and there is little probability that any one will in the future prosper in it.

EBBE SKAMELSON. [11]

Upon a small headland which juts from the north into Lake Bolmen, lies an old mansion, Tiraholm, by the peasantry called Tira.

A long time ago there lived here a knight who had a wife and an only child, a beautiful daughter, named Malfred. In the whole country there was not another so fair, and the fame of her beauty traveled far and wide, alluring many suitors to her feet. But Malfred was unmoved by their attentions and turned them away, one after the other.

One day a stately knight, Ebbe Skamelson by name, who had just returned from foreign lands, where he had won his golden spurs, drew up in the court-yard.

With downcast eyes and blushing cheeks the young lady extended her hand when they met, to greet the stranger, who courteously returned her salutation.

The stranger knight became for a time a guest at Tiraholm, and the report soon went out, to the grief of many swains who had indulged in dreams of sooner or later winning the hand of the beautiful maiden, that Ebbe Skamelson and Malfred were betrothed. But, as both were still young, the Knight expressed a desire to join the Crusades to the Holy Land, where he hoped to add to his honors, and stipulated that he be given seven years, at the end of which time he promised to return and celebrate his nuptials.

Some time after Ebbe departed, the old Knight, Malfred’s father, died, and it became very lonesone for the daughter and mother in Tiraholm. Year after year passed with no word from Ebbe. The roses of the young maiden’s cheeks faded and the dark eyes lost their lustre. The mother advised a remedy and betrothed her to another.

Under the impression that Ebbe had fallen by the sword of the infidels she prepared a wedding feast, and the newly betrothed couple were duly joined according to the rites of the church.

But just as the wedding guests sat themselves at table a gold-laced Knight rode into the court at great speed. The bride became pale under her crown, but the mother, who recognized in the stranger the Knight Ebbe, hastened to meet him in the yard, and reminded him that the seven years had passed, at the same time informing him that his love now sat in the bridal chair with another.

In great anger the Knight sprang to his horse, drew his sword, and after reproaching her for breaking her promise, with one blow he severed her head from her body. His sword still dripping with blood, he sprang from his saddle and into the hall where the festivities were in progress, where the bride sank under his sword, and the bridegroom at another deadly blow fell by her side.

Overtaken by repentance the murderer flung himself upon his horse and rode away into the dark forest, but the pricking of his conscience allowed him no rest. Night and day he saw the apparitions of his victims, and nowhere could he find an escape from them.

Finally he determined to go to Rome, and at the feet of the Holy Father ask absolution from his crimes. A large sum of money procured for him from the Pope the desired indulgence, but absolution from a man did not possess the power to quiet his conscience, still his soul’s pain or quell the storm raging in his heart. He then returned to the home of his love, and asked the authorities to impose upon him the severest punishment.

After a long deliberation he was sentenced by the court to be chained hand and foot, in which condition he must visit and pass a day in each one of the three hundred and sixty-five islands in Lake Bolmen. The condemned man went at once about the execution of his sentence. In order that he might get from one island to the other he was given a small boat with which, like a wounded bird, he laboriously propelled himself on his terrible journey.

When, at the end of the year, his sentence was completed he went ashore on the estate of Anglestadt in the district of Sunnebro. Here he went up to a village and rested over night in a barn. Meantime his sorrowful fate had made a deep impression upon the people. A bard had composed a song reciting the woes of Ebbe, and a soothsayer had predicted that upon hearing the song sung Ebbe’s chains would fall off and his death follow immediately. While he was lying concealed in the barn, a milkmaid came in the morning to milk the cows. She began to sing “Knight Ebbe’s Song,” to which he listened with intense interest. At the conclusion of the last verse he cried out with loud voice: “Some is true and some is false.”

Thoroughly frightened, the girl sprang into the house and related what had happened. In great haste the people gathered around the barn where Ebbe was lying, commanding him to inform them where he came from and who he was. Still cumbered by his chains he crawled from his shelter and gave his name, at the same time requesting them to conduct him to the churchyard.

Between the village and the church of Anglestadt lies a stone sunken in the ground. When he came to this Ebbe mounted it, raised his eyes to heaven and cried out: “If I am worthy to be buried in consecrated ground, so let it be!”

Instantly the fetters fell from his hands and feet and he sank to the earth a corpse.

Those present took his body and carried it to the church where they buried it in the path outside the churchyard wall, so that all who went into the churchyard should tramp upon his grave. But the next night a long section of the wall, right in front of the grave, was miraculously thrown down. The peasants at once relaid it, but the next night it was again leveled. It was then understood that these happenings were signs that the unfortunate man should be allowed a resting place in consecrated ground, whereupon the churchyard was extended so that the grave was enclosed by its walls, and a low stone even to this day marks the resting place of the outcast. From the fetters, which for a long time hung in Anglestadt church, three iron crosses, resembling the small crosses which were in former times set up in memory of the departed, have been made and placed upon the present church.

JOHAN AND THE TROLLS. [12]

In Ingeltrop, a parish of North Wedbo, there once lived a farmer who had a servant named Johan.

One day a traveler arrived from Myntorp Inn, and the farmer having been notified that it was his turn to furnish a conveyance for him to the next inn, Johan was sent to the pasture to catch a horse. A halter thrown over his shoulder, he set out, whistling the latest love song. Arriving at the pasture, it was soon clear to him that “Bronte” was in no humor to submit to the halter, and though he now and then allowed himself to be approached, no sooner was the attempt made to lay hold on him than he was off, with head and heels in the air, to a safe distance. Johan persevered, perspiration streaming from his forehead, but in vain. Angered at last, he began to swear in a most ungodly manner, still pursuing the horse until his progress was suddenly checked by a high cliff, to the very base of which he had run before discovering it. Naturally casting his glance upward, as he halted, he saw, sitting upon a crag, a beautiful maiden, apparently combing her hair.

“Are you there, my dear boy?” called the maiden.

Johan, not easily frightened, answered her cheerily:

“Yes, my sweetheart.”

“Come here, then,” called the maiden.

“I can’t,” replied Johan.

“Try, Johan.” And he did, to his astonishment finding a foothold on the smooth cliff where before no unevenness was discoverable, and soon he was at the maiden’s side. She looked at him with great, wondering eyes, then, suddenly enveloping him in a mist, clouded his understanding so that he was no longer master of his movements, and was, in fact, transformed completely from the Johan he had been to a being like his companion. He forgot horse, home, relatives and friends. Half unconscious, he was conducted into the mountain, and was gone from the sight and power of those who would seek him.

“Bronte” was in harness many good days thereafter, and the farmer became the driver, for, as his sons were growing up, he did not wish to hire another servant in Johan’s stead.

One day, many years after Johan’s disappearance, it was again the farmer’s turn to furnish a horse to a traveler. Grumbling at the fate of Johan, he went to the pasture.

“It was too bad for the boy,” said he to himself. “I wonder if he has been caught by the Trolls?” At the same time he chanced to look upward at the cliff where the servant had seen the Troll maiden, and there stood Johan, but with lusterless eyes, staring into vacancy.

“Johan, my dear boy, is that you?” shouted the farmer. “Come down.”

“I can not,” answered Johan, with husky, unnatural voice.

Hereupon the farmer threw his cap to Johan, which the latter picked up and put on his head.

“Come down,” cried the farmer, “before the Trolls come. In the name of the saints, come down.”

“I can’t,” said Johan again.

Then the farmer threw his clothes up, garment after garment, and when Johan had clothed himself in them he received power enough that he was able to crawl down the cliff. His master took him by the hand, and without looking back they hastened home, the farmer repeating:

“Pshaw! you cunning black Trolls! As a stone, I’ll quiet your wicked tongues that they may neither evil think nor speak or do ought against me.”

They arrived home, the one dressed the other naked. The traveler was obliged to procure another horse, for in the house of the farmer the joy was so great that none there had a thought of driving him. Johan was never again the same man as before, but remained gloomy and rarely spoke.

His master asked him many times what his occupation was in the mountain, but upon this subject he was silent. It happened that Johan was taken sick and called for a confessor, to whom, when he confessed his sins, he related also his experience in the mountain. His chief employment, he said, had been to steal food for the Trolls. For this purpose the Trolls put a red hat upon him, when he could, in a very short time, fly to Jönköping through locked doors and into the merchants’ stores, where he took corn, salt, fish and whatever he wished. From the Troll cap he received such power that he could take a sack of rye under each arm and a barrel of fish upon his back, and fly as lightly through the air as with no burden whatever.

“It was wrong of me and hard on the merchants,” said Johan, “but it was the fault of the Trolls. If there were no Trolls in the world the merchants would become rich, but now they must pay tribute, and so are kept on the verge of bankruptcy.” And Johan was done.

THE LOST TREASURE.

Many hundreds of years ago, at a time when Sweden was invaded by enemies, the people of Stenbrohult gathered their money and jewelry together and concealed them in a large copper kettle, which they sunk to the bottom of Lake Möckeln.

There it lies to-day and will lie for all time, though many have touched it with poles when driving fish into their nets. Meantime, at each touch, it has moved further away until it now lies near the outlet of the lake, where it is so deep that it can not be reached.

When the other residents of the place hid their treasures in the lake there was a rich farmer who buried his silver at Kalfhagsberg in two cans. Shortly after he died so suddenly that no opportunity was given to dig them up. Immediately following his death, two lights were seen every evening over the place where the treasures lay hidden, a sure sign that an evil spirit or dragon had appropriated the treasure.

A poor cottager heard of it, and knowing that man may acquire undisputed possession of the treasures of the earth, if dug upon a Thursday evening and carried away without looking back or uttering a word to any one, he already regarded himself as good as the owner of the wealth. Betaking himself to the place, he succeeded in getting the cans out of the mountain, but on the way home he met one after another of his neighbors who asked where he had been. The old man knew well that the evil spirits had a hand in this, and that what appeared to be his neighbors was nothing less than the spirits transformed, and he was, therefore, stubbornly quiet. But finally he met the priest, who stood by the wayside and greeted him as he was passing with a “good evening, neighbor.” Hereupon the old man dared keep quiet no longer, but took his hat off and saluted, “good evening, father,” in return, at the same instant he tripped against a root and dropped the cans. When he stopped to pick them up there lay in their stead only a pair of little old birch-bark boxes, and the old man was compelled to go home, his mission fruitless.

THE TEN FAIRY SERVANTS. [13]

Many years ago there lived in Gullbjers a family of peasants, who had a daughter, Elsa. As she was the only child she was much adored, and her parents sought in every way to anticipate her slightest wish. As soon as she had been confirmed she was sent to the city to learn how to sew, and also city manners and customs. But in the city she acquired little other knowledge than how to adorn herself, and to scorn housework and manual labor.

When she was twenty years old she won the love of an industrious and honorable young farmer, named Gunner, and before many months had gone by they were man and wife.

In the beginning all was pleasure, but she soon began to weary with her many household duties. Early one morning, shortly before Christmas, there was life and activity in Gunner’s yard. Elsa had hardly risen from bed when the servant, Olle, sprang in and said:

“Dear mistress, get ready our haversacks, for we are going to the woods, and we must be off if we are to get back before evening.”

“Dear mother, the leaven is working,” called one of the servant girls, “and if you will come out now we will have more than usually good bread.”

The butcher, Zarkis, who had already stuck a large hog and several small pigs, had just stepped in to get the accustomed dram, when old Brita came rushing after material for candle wicks. Lastly came Gunner, out of patience because the servant had not yet started for the woods.

“My departed mother,” said he, with kindly earnestness, “always prepared everything the night before when people were expected to go to work early in the morning, and I have requested you to do likewise, Elsa. But do not forget the loom, my dear; there are now only a few yards of cloth remaining to be woven, and it will not do to allow it to lie in the way over the holidays.”

Now, wholly out of patience, Elsa rushed in a rage out of the kitchen to the house in which the loom stood, slammed the door furiously behind her and cast herself weeping upon a sofa.

“No!” shrieked she. “I will no longer endure this drudgery. Who could have thought that Gunner would make a common housewife of me, to wear my life out thus? Oh, unhappy me! Is there no one who can help and comfort a poor creature?”

“I can,” replied a solemn voice, and before her stood a white-haired man with a broad-brimmed hat upon his head. “Do not be alarmed,” continued he, “I came to proffer you the help for which you have just wished. I am called Old Man Hoberg. I know your family to the tenth and eleventh generations. Your first ancestor bade me stand godfather to his first born. I could not be present at the christening, but I gave a suitable godfather’s present, for I would by no means be the meanest. The silver I then gave was unfortunately a blessing for no one, for it begot only pride and laziness. Your family long ago lost the riches, but the pride and laziness remain; nevertheless I will help you, for you are at heart good and honest.

“You complain at the life of drudgery you are compelled to lead,” continued he, after a short silence; “this comes from your being unaccustomed to work, but I shall give you ten obedient servants, who shall be at your bidding and faithfully serve you in all your undertakings.” Whereupon he shook his cloak, and ten comical little creatures hopped out and began to put the room in order.

“Reach here your fingers,” commanded the old man.

Tremblingly, Elsa extended her hand; whereupon the old man said:

“Hop O’ My Thumb,
“Lick the Pot,
“Long Pole,
“Heart in Hand,
“Little Peter Funny Man—

“Away, all of you, to your places.”

In an instant the little servants had vanished into Elsa’s fingers, and even the old man had disappeared.

The young wife sat a long time staring at her hands, but soon she experienced a wonderful desire to work.

“Here I sit and dream,” she burst forth with unusual cheerfulness and courage, “and it is already seven o’clock while outside all are waiting for me.” And Elsa hastened out to superintend the occupations of her servants.

Not for that day alone, but for all time thereafter Elsa entered into her duties with as much pleasure as she would formerly have found in a dance. No one knew what had happened, but all marveled at the sudden change. None was, however, more pleased and satisfied than the young wife herself, for whom work was now a necessity, and under whose hands everything thereafter flourished, bringing wealth and happiness to the young couple.

THE SEA NYMPH.

One night a number of fishermen quartered themselves in a hut by a fishing village on the northwest shores of an island. After they had gone to bed, and while they were yet awake, they saw a white, dew-besprinkled woman’s hand reaching in through the door. They well understood that their visitor was a sea nymph, who sought their destruction, and feigned unconsciousness of her presence.

The following day their number was added to by the coming of a young, courageous and newly married man from Kinnar, in Lummelund. When they related to him their adventure of the night before, he made fun of their being afraid to take a beautiful woman by the hand, and boasted that if he had been present he would not have neglected to grasp the proffered hand.

That evening when they laid themselves down in the same room, the late arrival with them, the door opened again, and a plump, white woman’s arm, with a most beautiful hand, reached in over the sleepers.

The young man arose from his bed, approached the door and seized the outstretched hand, impelled, perhaps, more by the fear of his comrades scoffing at his boasted bravery, than by any desire for a closer acquaintance with the strange visitor. Immediately his comrades witnessed him drawn noiselessly out through the door, which closed softly after him. They thought he would return soon, but when morning approached and he did not appear, they set out in search of him. Far and near the search was pursued, but without success. His disappearance was complete.

Three years passed and nothing had been heard of the missing man. His young wife, who had mourned him all this time as dead, was finally persuaded to marry another. On the evening of the wedding day, while the mirth was at its highest, a stranger entered the cottage. Upon closer observation some of the guests thought they recognized the bride’s former husband.

The utmost surprise and commotion followed.

In answer to the inquiries of those present as to where he came from and where he had been, he related that it was a sea nymph whose hand he had taken that night when he left the fisherman’s hut; and that he was dragged by her down into the sea. In her pearly halls he forgot his wife, parents, and all that was loved by him until the morning of that day, when the sea nymph exclaimed: “There will be a dusting out in Kinnar this evening.” Then his senses immediately returned, and, with anxiety, he asked: “Then it is my wife who is to be the bride?” The sea nymph replied in the affirmative. At his urgent request, she allowed him to come up to see his wife as a bride, stipulating that when he arrived at the house he should not enter. When he came and saw her adorned with garland and crown he could, nevertheless, not resist the desire to enter. Then came a tempest and took away half the roof of the house, whereupon the man fell sick and three days later died.

THE BYSE. [14]

A peasant of Svalings, in the parish of Gothem, by the name of Hans, was, one spring day, employed in mending a fence which divided two meadows. It chanced he required a few more willow twigs for bands, whereupon he sprang over the fence to cut them in a neighbor’s grove. Entering the thicket, what was his surprise at seeing an old man sitting upon a stump, bowed forward, his face buried in his hands. His astonishment uncontrollable, Hans broke out:

“Who are you?”

“A wanderer,” replied the old man without lifting his head.

“How long have you been a wanderer?” inquired the peasant.

“Three hundred years!” answered the old man.

Still more astonished, the peasant again asked:

“Is it not hard to travel thus?”

“It has never been so hard to me,” replied the old man, “for I love the woods.”

“Very well, go on then,” said Hans.

Hardly were the words uttered than the peasant heard a sound like that from a wild bird startled to wing, and the old man had vanished so suddenly that Hans could not say whether he had sunk into the earth or gone into the air.

THE BRIDGE OVER KALMARSOUND.

North of the village of Wi, in the parish of Källa, lies a large stone called Sekiel’s Stone, after a giantess, Sekiel, who is said to have lived in Borgehaga, in the parish of Högo.

The same giantess had a sister, who was married to a giant named Beard, and lived in the parish of Ryssby on the Småland side of the sound.

That they might visit each other oftener it was agreed between the sisters that they should build a stone bridge over Kalmarsound, the one to build from Ryssby shore, the other from Öland.

The giantess of Småland began first upon her work. Every day she came with a great load of stones which she cast into the sea, until, finally, she had completed that point of land now called Skägganäs, reaching a quarter of a mile out into the sea. The giantess on the Öland side also began to build, but when she came with her first load of stones in her apron she was shot through the body with an arrow from a peasant’s bow. Overcome by the pain, she sat herself to rest upon the before mentioned Sekiel Stone, which has a shallow depression in the top, marking the resting spot of the giantess.

When she had recovered she again took up her journey, but had proceeded no further than to Persnäs when it began to storm, and she was struck dead by a bolt of lightning. With her fall the stones slipped from her apron, and there they lie to-day, forming the large grave-mound on Persnäs hills.

THE YOUNG LADY OF HELLERUP.

Upon the estate of Hellerup, in the parish of Ljungby, there lived, many years ago, a gentleman of rank, who had a daughter renowned for her gentleness as well as for her beauty and intelligence.

One night, while lying awake in her bed, watching the moonbeams dancing upon her chamber floor, her door was opened and a little fairy, clad in a gray jacket and red cap, tripped lightly in and toward her bed.

“Do not be afraid, gracious lady!” said he, and looked her in the eye in a friendly manner. “I have come to ask a favor from you.”

“Willingly, if I can,” answered the young lady, who began to recover from her fear.

“Oh! it will not be difficult,” said the fairy. “I and mine have, for many years, lived under the floor in the kitchen, just where the water tank stands, which has become old and leaky, so that we are continually annoyed by the dripping of water, and the maids spill water upon the floor, which drips through, so that it is never dry in our home.”

“That shall be seen to in the morning,” promised the lady, and the fairy, making an elegant bow, disappeared as noiselessly as he came.

The next day, at the girl’s request, the cask was moved, and the gratitude of the fairies was soon manifested. Never thereafter was a glass or plate broken, and if the servants had work to do that required early rising, they were always awake at the appointed hour.

Some time later the fairy again stood at the young lady’s bedside.

“Now I have another request which, in your generosity, you will certainly not refuse to grant.”

“What is it, then?” asked the young lady.

“That you will honor me and my house, and to-night stand at the christening of my newly-born daughter.”

The young lady arose and clad herself, and followed her unknown conductor through many passages and rooms which she had never before been aware existed, until she finally came to the kitchen. Here she found a host of small folk and priest and father, whereupon the little child was baptized in the usual Christian manner.

When the young lady was about to go the fairy begged permission to put a memento in her apron.

Though what she received looked like a stick and some shavings, she appeared very thankful, and was conducted again through the winding passages back to her room.

Just as the fairy stood ready to leave her, he said: “If we should meet again, and that is probable, bear well in mind not to laugh at me or any of mine. We esteem you for your modesty and goodness, but if you laugh at us, we shall never see each other again.” With these words he left the room.

When he had gone the young woman threw her present into the stove and laid herself down to sleep, and the following morning, when the maid went to build the fire, she found in the ashes jewelry of the purest gold and finest workmanship, such as had never before been seen.

Some years later the young woman was about to marry, and preparations were made for a day of pomp and splendor.

For many weeks there was great bustle in the kitchen and bridal chamber. During the day all was quiet under the floor in the kitchen, but through the night one who slept lightly could hear the sounds of work as through the day.

At length the wedding hour arrived.

Decked with laurels and crown, the bride was conducted to the hall where the guests were gathered. During the ceremonies she chanced to cast a glance toward the fireplace in the corner of the hall, where she saw the fairies gathered for a like feast. The bridegroom was a little fairy and the bride her goddaughter, and everything was conducted in the same manner as in the hall.

None of the guests saw what was going on in their vicinity, but it was observed that the bride could not take her eyes from the fireplace. Later in the evening, when she again saw the strange bridal feast, she saw one of the fairies who was acting as waiter stumble and fall over a twig. Unmindful of the caution she had received, she burst out into a hearty laugh. Instantly the scene vanished, and from that time no fairies have been seen at Hellerup.

ELSTORPS WOODS.

During the war between Queen Margarita and Albrecht of Mecklenburg the two armies had an encounter in Southern Halland. The Queen’s people had encamped upon the plains of Tjarby, a half mile north of Laholm, while the Prince’s adherents were camped in the vicinity of Weinge Church.

One morning the Queen went, as was her custom to morning prayers in Tjarby Church, but took the precaution to set a guard upon the so-called Queen’s Mountain to warn her of danger.

While she was buried in her devotions there came a message, informing her that a few unattended knights had been seen in the vicinity.

“There is yet no danger,” said the courageous Queen, and continued her prayers at the altar.

In a short time another message was brought, informing her that as many as a hundred knights had made their appearance, but the Queen commanded her people to keep still, that yet there was no occasion for alarm. Finally a message came that all Elstorps Woods seemed to be alive and moving against Tjarby.

“Now, my children, for a hard battle, but God will give us the victory,” said the Queen, and springing upon her horse, she marched at the head of her warriors against the enemy.

The enemy had, as is related in the story of Macbeth, made use of stratagem, for each man carried before him a green bush, thinking to come upon the queen’s attendants by surprise. But the queen outwitted him and gained a brilliant victory.

In gratitude to God, she rebuilt the old church of Tjarby, and since that day no birches higher than a man’s head have grown in Elstorps Woods.

THE PIGMY OF FOLKARED’S CLIFF.

It is probable that there are few places more gloomy and uninviting than certain parts of the parish of Sibbarp, in the Province of Halland. Dark heaths cover a good portion of the parish, and from their dull brown surface rises, here and there, a lonely, cheerless mountain. One of these is Folkared’s Cliff, in the southern part of the parish, noted of old as the abiding-place of little Trolls and Pigmies.

One chilly autumn day a peasant, going from Hogared, in Ljungby, to Folkared, in Sibbarp, in order to shorten his journey took a short cut by way of the cliff, upon reaching which he perceived a Pigmy about the size of a child seven or eight years old, sitting upon a stone crying.

“Where is your home?” asked the peasant, moved by the seeming distress of the little fellow.

“Here,” sobbed the Pigmy, pointing to the mountain.

“How long have you lived here?” questioned the peasant in surprise.

“Six hundred years.”

“Six hundred years! You lie, you rascal, and you deserve to be whipped for it.”

“Oh! do not strike me,” pleaded the Pigmy, continuing to cry. “I have had enough of blows already to-day.”

“Who have you received them from?” asked the peasant.

“From my father.”

“What capers did you cut up that you were thus punished?”

“Oh, I was set to watch my old grandfather and when I chanced to turn my back he fell and hurt himself upon the floor.”

The peasant then understood what character of person he had met, and grasping his dirk he prepared to defend himself. But instantly he heard an awful crash in the mountain, and the pigmy had vanished.

THE FREEBOOTER’S GRAVE. [15]

During the bloody war under Charles XII. with Denmark, a number of freebooters had gone from Skåne into Halland, and marked their way, as usual, with plundering and murder. A number, after the parsonage and other houses in Hishult had been ransacked, went back to Skåne; the rest continued their course to the north.

At Böghult, in the parish of Tönnersjö, a number of peasants had gathered to oppose them. They possessed, for the most part, no other weapons than axes, scythes and sticks; only two, brothers from Böghult, were better armed. Each of these had his gun, which, as residents in the woods and hunters, they knew well how to handle. In stationing the forces, the two brothers were placed far out on the road, in the direction from which the freebooters were expected to make their appearance, while the others remained in a body some distance in their rear.

After many hours’ waiting a ragged, sorry-looking horseman, mounted on a rough-coated and saddleless horse, came into view. From his rear came the sounds of laughter and merry-making of the approaching horde.

“Look sharp! here they come!” said one of the brothers.

“See! They have stolen father’s horse!” said the other, as he brought his gun to his eye.

“Hold on!” whispered the first, “My gun is surer than yours. Let me take care of the thief.” These words were followed by a loud report, and the horseman tumbled from his seat.

Alarmed at the result, the two brothers retreated hastily to their support in the rear, and nothing further was heard of the enemy. The following day some of the bravest of the peasants set out to reconnoiter, but the freebooters had disappeared. They came, however, upon a heap of stones which the marauders had thrown up to mark the grave of their companion.

This pile of stones was ever after called the freebooter’s grave.

THE GIANT MAIDEN IN BORÅSERÖD MOUNTAIN.

In the mountain of Boråseröd, which is located in the parish of Svarteborg, there lived, in ancient days, a giant. As with all the giant people, he has disappeared since the coming in of Christianity. Some say that he died, but others believe that he moved to Dovre, in Norway, where giants betook themselves when disturbed by the church bells.

However, there is even to-day a hollow in the mountain which is called “the giant’s door,” and within the mountain, it is believed there are vaults filled with the giant’s gold. No one has, however, dared venture to search for this treasure, and luckily, for with property of giants, blessings do not go.

This giant had a daughter, so beautiful that he who once saw her could never drive thoughts of her from his mind. Among the few whose fortune it was to see her was a young peasant from the estate of Rom, adjacent to the mountain. When he was one day out searching for the horses, which had gone astray, he suddenly came upon the wonderfully beautiful maiden, sitting upon the side of the mountain, in the sunshine, playing on her harp.

The peasant at once understanding who it was, not of the kind to be easily frightened, knowing that her father had an abundance of riches, and thinking it was no worse for him than for many others to marry into the giant family, approached her, under cover of the shrubbery, until he was quite near, when he threw his knife between her and the mountain, and as “steel charms a Troll,” or others of the supernatural family, she was obliged, whether or not she would, to follow him to his home.

In the evening, when the giant missed his daughter, he started out in search of her, and in his search came to Rom.

Through the walls he heard the snores of two persons, and, when he had lifted the roof off the cottage, he saw his daughter sleeping in the arms of the young swain.

“Are you there, you whelp!” he hissed. “Has it come to this?” added he. “So be it, then; but I demand that the wedding shall take place before the next new moon. If you can then give me as much food and drink as I want all your offspring shall be made rich and powerful, otherwise I will have nothing to do with you.”

Preparations were hastily made by the young man’s parents for the wedding, and neighbors and relations came from far and near, laden with provisions. A great number likely to be present, it was determined to have the ceremony performed in the Church of Tosse; but the day before the wedding there came such a great freshet that it seemed impossible for the bridal carriage to cross the swollen creek between Duigle and Barby. The giant was equal to the emergency, and, with his wife, went to Holmasar, in Berffendalen, and fetched a large slab of stone and four boulders to the creek. The giant carried the slab under his arm, and his wife the boulders in her mitten. And thus they built the stone bridge which to this day spans the creek.

When the bridal pair came from the church to the banquet hall, the giant appeared and seated himself at the table with the rest of the guests.

Although the bridal couple did all possible to find him enough to eat, the giant declared when he left the table that he was only half satisfied, and therefore only half of the family should become great people. Wishing to give the bride a becoming bridal present, he cast a sack of gold and silver upon the floor, which the couple was to have if the son-in-law could carry it up to the loft. Stealthily, the bride gave her husband a drink which made him so strong that he threw the sack upon his back, and, to the surprise of all, carried it out of the room. Thus the newly wedded pair became possessors of an abundant treasure with which to begin life.

For some time the young couple lived in plenty and happiness, but soon the husband began to be irritable and abusive. It came, finally, to such a pass that the husband took a whip to his wife. She continued, nevertheless, to be mild and patient as before; but one day he was about to start on a long journey. When the horse was hitched to the wagon he observed that the shoe was gone from one of the hind feet. It would not do to venture on such a journey without first replacing the shoe. Here, however, was a difficulty. He had one shoe only, and that was too large; whereupon he began again to scold and swear.

The wife said nothing, but quietly taking the shoe between her hands, squeezed it together as if it were lead, reducing it to the required size. Her husband looked upon her in astonishment and alarm. Finally he addressed her:

“Why have you, who are so strong, submitted to abuse from me?”

“Because the wife should be submissive to her husband,” said the giantess, mildly and pleasantly.

From that hour the man was the most patient and indulgent in the region, and never again was heard a cross word from his mouth.

GLOSHED’S ALTAR. [16]

South of Thorsby Church, among the mountains, lies a shattered rock called Gloshed’s Altar, concerning which there is an old tradition still living upon the lips of the people, as follows:

A long time ago a man from the parish of Säfve went upon a Hollandish ship, on a whaling cruise. After the vessel had been tossed about the sea for some time, land was one day sighted, and upon the land was seen a fire which continued to burn many days.

It was determined that some of the ship’s crew should go ashore, in the hope that shelter might be found, and among those who went ashore was our hero. When the strand was reached they found there an old man sitting by a fire of logs, endeavoring to warm himself.

“Where did you come from?” asked the old man.

“From Holland!” answered the sailors.

“But where were you born?” to our hero.

“In Hisingen, in the parish of Säfve,” he answered.

“Are you acquainted in Thorsby?”

“Yes, indeed!”

“Do you know where Ulfve Mountain lies?”

“I have often passed it, as the road from Göteborg to Marstrand over Hisingen and through Thorsby goes past there.”

“Do the large stones and hills remain undisturbed?” asked the old man.

“Yes, except one stone, which, if I remember correctly, is toppling over,” said the Hisinger.

“That is too bad! But do you know where Gloshed’s Altar is, and does it remain sound?”

“Upon that point,” said the sailor, “I have no knowledge.”

Finally the old man continued: “If you will say to those who now live in Thorsby and Torrebräcka that they shall not destroy the stones and elevations at the foot of Ulfve Mount, and, above all, to take care of Gloshed’s Altar, you shall have fair winds for the rest of your voyage.”

The Hisinger promised to deliver the message when he arrived home, whereupon he asked the old man his name, and how he, living so far from Thorsby, was so well acquainted with matters there.

“I’ll tell you,” said he, “my name is Thore Brock, and I at one time lived there, but was banished. All my relations are buried at Ulfve Mountain, and at Gloshed’s Altar we were wont to do homage to our gods and to make our offerings.”

Hereupon they separated.

When the man from Hisinger returned home he went about the fulfillment of his promise, and, without knowing how, he soon became one of the principal farmers in the parish.

THE BRIDAL PRESENT.

In the parish of Näsinge, two poor sisters once found service with a rich farmer. All through the summer they herded their master’s flocks on the mountain sides, whiling away their time in relating legends of kings and abducted princesses.

“If only some prince would carry me away to his gilded palace,” said the younger, one day.

“Hush! Do not talk so wickedly,” remonstrated the elder. “The Trolls might hear you, when it would go hard with you.”

“Oh! there is not much danger of that,” replied the first speaker, and continued her story.

Some days later the younger sister disappeared. No one knew where she had gone, and careful search did not reveal. Time went on without the least trace of her whereabouts being discovered. Finally the remaining sister found a sweetheart, but equally poor with herself, wherefore they could not think of marrying yet for many years.

One night in her sleep she dreamed that her absent sister stood at her bedside, and said:

“Make your bed to-morrow night in the barn, past which the Trolls and I shall pass, and I will give you a handsome dower.”

The next night when the girl drove her flocks home she made her bed, as her sister had directed, in her master’s barn. The barn door she left open, and, laying herself down, she looked out into the night, endeavoring to keep awake until her sister should come. Soon after midnight she heard the sound of hoofs, and saw her sister, accompanied by a Troll, ride up the road at such a speed that the sparks glistened around the horses’ feet. When they reached the front of the barn the lost girl threw a purse in at the door, which fell with a ring into the watcher’s lap. Hastily the treasure was deposited under her head, and she was soon asleep, wearied with her day’s work and night of watching.

The next day, upon examining her strangely acquired gift, what was her astonishment to find it filled with pure gold coins. Before the sun had set she had purchased a splendid farm, and, as may be presumed, the bans were published and a wedding immediately celebrated.

HÅLDE HAT. [17]

At the extremity of the beautiful valley of Espelund, in the parish of Mo, there rises a wood-covered mountain known as Bergåsa Mountain, from the distance looking like a giant cone; three sides presenting frowning precipices, the fourth (and southern) fortified by a large wall of boulders, which is said to have surrounded, in former times, a king’s castle, called Grimslott.

Here, in times gone by, lived a mountain king named Grim. He was, like the rest of his kind, ugly and crafty, and robbed mankind of whatever fell in his way.

For this purpose he had two hats, one of which was called the Dulde hat, and was so endowed that when the king put it on his head both he and his companions became invisible; and the other was called the Hålde hat, which possessed a power making all things plainly visible to the wearer that were before invisible.

It happened, during these days, that a farmer of Grimland, preparing a wedding for his daughter, invited guests from near and far to the festivities. Pretending, however, not to know the mountain king, he did not invite him. The latter apparently took no offense at this, but, on the wedding day, putting his Dulde hat upon his head, set out to the wedding feast, followed by all his people, except the queen, who was left at home to watch the castle.