Chapter IV: Part 4

During one of these official tours he purchased in Tangerosa, three small farms, and made of them a large domain, which he improved and called Trystorp—three farms—but from Riseberga to Trystorp it is a long distance, and as the Bishop was not unskilled in constructing underground ways—he having already completed one such under the Mälar from Strengnäs to his residence, Tynnelsö—he tunneled a passage from the monastery to Trystorp under Logsjö. For the public he built a road above ground, which is the same that now leads to Trystorp around the north shore of Logsjö.

Over a stream, or at that time a little river, which, just below Riseberga, runs from the south in a northerly course, he built a substantial bridge of sandstone. The bridge is even to-day called Rugga’s bridge or more commonly Ruggebro.

Not long after the death of Bishop Cort the Papal power was forced to yield in Sweden to the doctrines of Luther and Riseberga to share the fate of other convents in the land.

It was now determined to move one of the bells of the convent to Edsberg, where it was to call the people together to hear the new message of truth. But the Bishop’s powerful spirit seemed even now to be present on earth, for when they who bore the bell reached the middle of Ruggebro, the burden was overthrown by an unseen hand into the creek, where it disappeared.

Many have since seen the bell, and one and another have even succeeded in raising it half way out of the water, but it has always escaped and sunk back into the creek bed, scoffing at the weakness of the covetous laborers.

KATE OF YSÄTTER.

The inhabitants of Närike have many stories to relate about an apparition, called Kate of Ysätter, that in olden times dwelt in Öster Närike’s forests, but chiefly in the swamps of Ysätter, in the parish of Asker.

According to the belief of the old people, she existed through many generations, although she usually made her appearance as a young girl beautifully clad, and possessing a head of hair of extraordinary length. She was often seen by hunters sitting upon a stump, combing her hair which reached to the ground. Those who went to the swamps to wash their clothes sometimes saw her at a little distance also washing garments which were of an unusual whiteness. To ugly old women she was always a terror, and it seemed to be a pleasure to her to mimic them by keeping time with their motions, but whenever she showed herself it was for a few seconds only, and should one turn his eyes from her, however little, she was gone.

In Öster Närike, the routes she took were shown, and many complaints were heard that she trampled the grain down in her constant journeys back and forth. Often, especially in the night time, her awful laugh was heard from her perch on a tree or top of a rock, when she succeeded in alluring some one from his path, caused him to fall with his load, or break his harness. Her laugh was like a magpie’s, and caused the blood of one helpless against her pranks to stand still.

Others who endeavored to stand well with her she assisted in many instances. “She has gone, the lightning has killed her as the others,” say the old people, not yet won over to the skepticism of the present time.

Among those who enjoyed her special favor was a hunter, Bottorpa Lasse. He was such a skillful shot that if only he stepped out upon the porch and called a bird, or drew the picture of an animal upon the wall of the barn, the game he wished was brought within range of his gun.

One time Lasse invited his neighbors to accompany him on a hunt, and, expecting to bag an abundance of game, they were not slow to accept the invitation. They betook themselves in the evening to the woods, where they found shelter in a coal burner’s hut, and prepared to begin the hunt early in the morning.

Along in the night Kate entered the hut, and requested the hunters to show her their guns. She first examined those of the hunter’s neighbors, but soon returned them, exclaiming, “Fie!” She then took Lasse’s gun, blew down the barrel, examined the priming and handed it back exclaiming, “Good, good, my boy!” What this signified was soon manifested, when Lasse secured a fine lot of game and the others did not so much as get a shot.

It is further related of Kate of Ysätter, that at the burning of the clock tower of Asker, in the year 1750, when even the church was in flames and in great danger of destruction, Kate was seen standing on the roof, opposing their progress.

The last time she made her presence known was at a harvest gathering in the fields of Ysätter. The harvesters had ceased labor to eat their luncheon, and when they had eaten themselves into a good humor, engaging in conversation, which turned upon Kate, a young man declared he would like nothing better than to catch her and give her a good whipping for the vexations she had produced in the world. Instantly a terrific crash was heard in an enclosure near by, and the youth received a blow in the face that caused the blood to gush from mouth and nose over the food of the others, changing their butter to blood. It was after this thought wise to say as little and to have as little as possible to do with Kate of Ysätter.

THE ELVES’ DANCE.

Upon the marshy oak and linden covered island of Sör, when the grass starts forth in the spring, are to be seen, here and there, circles of a deeper green than the surrounding grass, which the people say mark the places where Elves have had their ring dances.

While the provost, Lille Strale, was pastor of the parish church, a servant was sent out late one evening to bring a horse in from a pasture. Plodding along as best he could in the darkness, he had not gone far when it was discovered that he had lost his way, and, turn which way he would, he could not find the sought for meadow.

Exhausted at last by constant walking, he sat down at the foot of an oak to rest himself. Presently strains of lovely music reached his ears, and he saw, quite near, a multitude of little people engaged in a lively ring dance upon the sward. So light were their footsteps that the tops of the grass blades were scarcely moved.

In the middle of the ring stood the Elf Queen herself, taller and more beautiful than the others, with a golden crown upon her head and her clothes sparkling in the moonlight with gold and precious stones.

Beckoning to him, she said: “Come, Anders, and tread a dance with me!” and Anders, thinking it would be impolite not to comply with the request of a woman so beautiful, rose and stepped bowing into the ring.

Poor lad, he did not know what a fate awaited him who ventured to participate in the sports of the Elves. How the dance terminated is not known, but at its conclusion the young man found himself again under the oak, and from that hour he was never again wholly himself. From being the most lively and cheerful young man in the village, he became the dullest and most melancholy, and, before the year had gone, his days were ended.

THE FIDDLER AND THE SEA NYMPH.

Many years ago a dancing society of Brästa, a village in the parish of Stora Mellösa, planned a great Christmas festival, to which, on the appointed day, old and young flocked from far and near, knowing that Sexton Kant, of Norrbyås, would be there with his fiddle, and assured that fun would run riot. Kant, it is related, was no ordinary fiddler, not a little proud of his skill, and ready at the least word of praise to laud himself to the skies.

When the merry making had gone well into the night and the pleasures were at their height, some one remarked that not many could measure themselves with Father Kant, when he let the bow leap over the strings and played in “four voices,” as he himself called it. Nothing further was needed. Kant, always ready to begin where the others left off, declared that the devil, good player as he was reputed to be, could not compete with him in the waltz which they had just heard. This boast came near costing Kant dear. When the dance ended and he set out in the night on his way home, he met, near the hill of Bjurbäcka, a young woman clad in white, who saluted him and addressed him as follows:

“If you will play a polka for me, Father Kant, I will dance for you.”

So said, so done. Father Kant sat himself upon a stone and applied the bow to the strings of the instrument. Instantly he lost all control of himself. Such a polka as now came from his fiddle he had never expected to hear, much less play. The tones seemed to come without help from him. The bow bounded over the strings and his arm was forced to follow. One melody followed another; his arm became numb, but the music continued in the same wild measure.

Kant now understood that something was wrong. Finally he burst forth:

“God forgive me, poor sinner. What have I brought upon myself?”

Upon the instant the fiddle strings parted, and an awful-sounding laugh was heard from the brook at the foot of the hill. Heavy of heart, Kant hastened homeward, acknowledging to himself that the devil, after all, was his superior. For a long time he could not be persuaded to again take up his fiddle, but, when he finally complied, he found that one of the beautiful waltzes he had played on the eventful night had fastened itself upon his memory, and he acquired greater renown than before as a fiddler.

THE SNIPE.

The snipe, as is well known, is a bird which inhabits low, marshy meadows, and which, in flight, makes a noise with its wings not unlike the neighing of a horse.

A farmer, who himself never looked after his property, had in his employ a lazy and negligent servant. One dry summer the man rode his master’s horse, many days in succession, to a pasture where there was no water, without first giving it drink, as he had been instructed. So the poor animal was thus left to suffer through the long dry period.

It happened one day that the farmer would go to the city, and commanded the servant to fetch the horse from the pasture. The man went, but search where he would, no horse could be found. The servant not returning in season, his master set out after him, but neither could he find the animal. It had disappeared from the pasture completely, and was not found again.

Some days later, when the farmer was again out, continuing the search, to his surprise he heard a neighing in the air. Soon after he observed his horse, as he supposed, standing and drinking in an adjoining meadow. “Are you there, Grålle?” cried the farmer, and hastened to catch the horse. His shout was answered with a neigh.

“Grålle, Grålle, my boy!” continued the farmer, in persuasive tones and was about to grasp the halter, when the horse was transformed into a bird, which, with another neigh, flew into the air.

From that day the farmer took care of his own horses, and before all else he saw to it that they did not want for water when they went to pasture.

TIBBLE CASTLE AND KLINTA SPRING.

At Tibble, in the parish of Bedelunda, there stood, in former days, so it is said, a castle, of which the most careful search fails to reveal any remnant now.

In the castle dwelt a lady of royal descent, with her young and beautiful daughter. One day there came to it a prince, who was received with great pomp, and it was not long until an ardent love had sprung up between the young people. Knowing that many eyes were upon them, keeping expressions in check, they agreed to meet each other on a certain night at Klinta Spring, situated south of the castle near Klinta Mountain.

Late in the evening, when all its inhabitants were asleep, and it had become quiet in the castle, the young lady crept quietly from her room down to the castle gate, but the porter refused to open it for her. Thinking gold might persuade him, she drew from her hand a ring which she tendered him, but he was not so easily bribed. Then she took a gold chain from her neck, proffering it with the ring; such a temptation the old man could not resist, and quietly allowed her to pass, with the condition that she should return before dawn.

When she arrived at the spring she thought she saw the prince sitting upon a stone near by, and, approaching him, she threw herself into his arms. But, instead of that of her lover, she found herself in the embrace of the Mountain King of Klinta Mountain, who lifted her up and bore her into the mountain. Before reaching the interior of the mountain, however, she succeeded in slipping the crown he wore from the giant’s head and hanging it, as she passed, upon the branch of a pine tree so that the prince could see that she had kept her appointment.

When they reached the inside of the mountain, the giant laid the young woman carefully down upon the “star spread” in his chamber, where she fell asleep, after which he went to his mother and told her what a beautiful discovery he had made. Meantime the prince came to the spring. When he failed to find his mistress there he walked around the meadow and came, finally, to the mountain, where his attention was attracted to the crown hanging in the tree. He now understood what had happened, and in anguish drew his sword and pierced his body with it. When the young woman awoke, the giant woman commanded her son to carry her back to the spring. “But,” added she, “before you reach there three lives will have been forfeited.”

And so it happened. While the giant was carrying the young woman to the spring she breathed her last and was laid by the giant at the side of the prince. Meanwhile the porter, in remorse over his deed, had thrown himself from the tower, and thus ended his days.

The prince and his love were laid upon a golden wagon and conveyed to a beautiful green meadow on an eminence near Gryta and there interred. Even the wagon and sword were buried in the mound, which every spring is surrounded by a hedge of white, blooming bird cherry, but both wagon and sword shall, in time, be dug up, when he who is first to see the latter shall receive his mortal wound therefrom.

THE COAL BURNER AND THE TROLL.

On a point which shoots out into the northwest corner of Lake Råsvalen, in the region of Linde, lived, in days past, a coal burner named Nils. His little garden patch was left to a servant boy to care for, while he dwelt always in the forest, chopping coal-wood during the summer and burning it in the winter. However he toiled, nothing but bad luck was returned to him, and, leading all other subjects, poor Nils was the talk of the village where his home was.

One day when he was constructing a stack of wood for burning, on the other side of the lake near the dark Harg Mountain, a strange woman came to him and asked him if he needed help in his work.

“Yes, indeed; it would be good to have some assistance,” answered Nils, whereupon the woman began to carry logs and wood much faster than Nils could draw with his horse, so that by noon the material was on the ground for a new stack. When evening came she asked Nils what he thought of her day’s work, and if she might come again next day.

The coal burner could not well say no, so she returned the following day, and daily thereafter. When the stack was burned she assisted him with the drawing, and never before had Nils had so much nor so good coal as that time.

Thus the woman remained with him in the forest three years, during which time she became the mother of three children, but this did not bother the coal burner, for she took care of them so that he had no trouble from them.

When the fourth year had been entered upon she began to be more presuming, and demanded that he take her home with him and make her his wife. This Nils did not like, but, as she was very useful to him in the coal forest, he was careful not to betray his thoughts, and said he would think over the matter.

One day he went to church, where he had not been for many years, and what he heard there set him to thinking as he had not thought since he was an innocent child. He began to reflect whether he had not made a misstep, and if it might not be a Troll woman who had so willingly lent him her company and help.

Involved in these and similar thoughts, returning to his forest home, he forgot that he had made an agreement with the strange woman when she first entered his service, that always upon his arrival, and before approaching the stack, he would strike three times with an ax against an old pine tree standing a little way from the coal kiln. On he went, when suddenly there burst upon his sight a scene that nearly took his wits from him. As he neared the stack he discovered it in bright flames, and around it stood the mother and her three children drawing the coal. They drew and slacked so that fire, smoke and sparks filled the air high toward the heavens, but instead of pine branches, ordinarily used for slacking, they had bushy tails, with which, after dipping them in the snow, they beat the fire.

When Nils had contemplated this awhile, he crept stealthily back to the pine whose trunk he made echo by three blows from his ax, so that it was heard far away at Harg Mountain. Thereupon he went forward to the stack as if he had seen nothing, and now every thing was as he was accustomed to see it. The stack burned steadily and well, and the woman went about her duties as usual.

When the woman saw Nils again, she renewed her appeals to be allowed to go to his home with him and become his wife.

“Yes, the matter shall be settled now,” said Nils, consolingly, and departed for home, ostensibly to fetch his horse, but he went instead to Kallernäs, on the east shores of the lake, where lived a wise old man, whom he asked what course to pursue to free himself from the dilemma. The old man advised him to go home and hitch his horse to the coal cart, but so harness that no loops should be found in the reins or harness. Then he should ride over the ice on the back of the horse; turn at the coal-kiln without pausing; shout to the Troll woman and children to get into the cart; and drive briskly to the ice again.

The coal burner, following the instructions, harnessed his horse and saw to it carefully that there was no loop upon the reins or harness, rode over the ice, up into the woods to the kiln and called to the woman and her children to jump in, at the same time heading for the ice and putting his horse to the best possible speed. When he reached the middle of the lake, he saw, running toward him from the wilderness, a large pack of wolves, whereupon he let slip the harness from the shafts, so that the cart and its contents were left standing on the slippery ice, and rode as fast as the horse could carry him straight to the other shore. When the Troll saw the wolves she began to call and beg. “Come back! come back!” she shrieked. “If you will not do it for my sake, do it for your youngest daughter, Vipa!” But Nils continued his way toward the shore. Then he heard the Trolls calling one to the other, “Brother in Harsberg, sister in Stripa, and cousin in Ringshällen, catch hold of the loops and pull!” “He has no loop,” came a reply from the depths of Harsberg.

“Catch him at Härkällarn, then.”

“He does not ride in that direction,” came from Ringshällen, and Nils did not go that way, but over fields, stones and roads straight to his home, where he had only arrived when the horse fell dead, and a Troll shot came and tore away the corner of the stable.

Nils, himself, fell ill shortly after, and was confined to his bed many weeks. When he recovered his health he sold his cabin in the forest, and cultivated the few acres around his cottage until the end of his days. Thus the Trolls were once caught napping.

BOLSTRE CASTLE.

One evening, a long time ago, a little girl went up through the forest to Bolstre Castle in search of some sheep that had gone astray.

Reaching the inside of the walls, the little girl was met by an old woman, clothed in a red skirt and a gray head covering, who gave into her possession a box, and commanded her to take care of it while she went to invite a number of her friends to become guests at her daughter’s wedding.

The girl was so frightened that she did not dare to refuse the charge, and, taking the box, sat down upon a stone to wait the woman’s return. When she had thus sat a long time she heard a bird twittering over her head in a tree, and looking up, two leaves fell from the tree in such manner as to form a cross upon the box, whereupon the cover instantly flew open and revealed its contents—a bridal crown of shining gold and many other costly jewels.

The girl waited long and patiently, but the old woman did not return, so, finally she set out on her way home, taking with her the jewel casket. But blessings do not go with Troll property. No bride would wear the crown, it was so fine, and the girl soon after lost her lover. Now that it was clear to every one that a Troll’s gold brought only misfortune upon the household, it was carried back to the castle and buried in the ground, where it surely lies to-day.

THE CHANGELINGS.

Every intelligent grandmother knows that the fire must not be allowed to go out in a room, where there is a child not yet christened; that the water in which the new-born child is washed should not be thrown out; also, that a needle, or some other article of steel must be attached to its bandages. If attention is not paid to these precautions it may happen that the child will be exchanged by the Trolls, as once occurred in Bettna many years ago.

A young peasant’s wife had given birth to her first child. Her mother, who lived some distance away, was on hand to officiate in the first duties attending its coming, but the evening before the day on which the child should be christened she was obliged to go home for a short time to attend to the wants of her own family, and during her absence the fire was allowed to go out.

No one would have noticed anything unusual, perhaps, if the child had not, during the baptism, cried like a fiend. After some weeks, however, the parents began to observe a change. It became ugly, cried continuously and was so greedy that it devoured everything that came in its way. The people being poor, they were in great danger of being eaten out of house and home. There could no longer be any doubt that the child was a “changeling.” Whereupon the husband sought a wise old woman, who, it was said, could instruct the parents what to do to get back their own child.

The mother was directed to build a fire in the bake oven three Thursday evenings in succession, lay the young one upon the bake shovel, then pretend that she was about to throw it into the fire. The advice was followed, and when the woman, the third evening, was in the act of throwing the changeling into the fire, it seemed, a little deformed, evil-eyed woman rushed up with the natural child, threw it in the crib and requested the return of her child. “For,” said she, “I have never treated your child so badly and I have never thought to do it such harm as you now propose doing mine,” whereupon she took the unnatural child and vanished through the door.

Another changeling story, but with less unfortunate consequences, is told in Södermanland.

A resident of Vingåkir, who made frequent trips to Nyköping with loads of flour, was in the habit of halting for the night at the house of a farmer in Verna. One summer night he arrived later than usual, and, as the people were already in bed and asleep, the weather being pleasant, he did not wish to wake anyone, so unhitched his horse from the wagon, hitched him to a hay stack and laid himself under the wagon to sleep.

He had been some time under the wagon, yet awake, when, from under a stone near by, an ugly, deformed woman, carrying a babe, made her appearance. Looking about her carefully, she laid the child on the stone and went into the house. In a short time she returned, bearing another child; laid it upon the stone, and taking up the first one, returned to the house.

The man observed her actions, and divining their purpose, crept cautiously from his resting place as soon as the woman had disappeared into the house, took the sleeping child and hid it in his coat under the wagon. When the Troll returned and found the child gone she went a third time to the house, from which she returned with the child she had just carried in, whereupon she disappeared under the stone.

The traveler, anxious for the welfare of his little charge, which had in such an extraordinary manner fallen into his hands, could not close his eyes for the rest of the night.

As soon as it dawned he went with his precious burden to the house, where he found the occupants in great consternation over the disappearance of the child, which, as may be presumed, was received with great rejoicing.

THE LADY OF PINTORP. [29]

What is now the country seat of Eriksberg, with its castle-like buildings among parks and gardens, was once an estate called Pintorp, upon which tradition has fixed the melancholy story of “The Lady of Pintorp.”

At Pintorp, so goes the story, lived a nobleman who, at his death, yet a young man, left his goods and estates to his widow. Instead of proving a good mistress to her numerous dependents, she impoverished them in all possible ways and treated them with the greatest cruelty. Under the castle she had deep cells, the terrors of which, on the slightest provocation, many a poor innocent creature was made to experience. She would set vicious dogs on beggars and children, and he who was not at his work at a fixed hour could be certain that he would go home in the evening with his back well lashed.

Early one morning the Lady of Pintorp stood on the castle steps watching the people congregate for the day’s work. Noticing an unfortunate fellow a little behind time, she flew into a rage, pouring upon him a flood of abuse and curses, and in punishment commanded him to fell the largest oak to be found upon the estate, and to carry it, before evening, uncut, top foremost, to the garden. If he failed to execute the command fully and punctually he was to be mercilessly driven from the estate and all his possessions confiscated.

Pondering over his sentence the man went to the woods where he met an old man who inquired why he looked so sad.

“Because I am done for, if the Lord does not come to my aid,” sighed the unfortunate fellow, and informed the old man what a task his mistress had put upon him.

“Don’t be uneasy,” said the stranger, “but chop that oak, then set yourself upon the trunk, when Erik Gyllerstierna and Svante Baner will draw it to the castle.”

The peasant, as he was instructed, began to cut the tree, which fell with a great crash at the third blow of his ax. Taking his seat upon the trunk, the tree at once began to move as if drawn by horses. The speed was soon so great that opposing fences and gates were brushed aside like straws, and in a short time the oak had arrived at the designated spot in the castle yard. Just as the tree top struck the castle gate one of the invisible haulers stumbled, and a voice was heard to say, “What, you on your knees, Svante?”

The lady who was standing upon the steps at the time understood, without anything further, who had been the laborer’s helpers, but instead of repenting she began to swear, scold and in the end, to threaten the man with imprisonment. Hereupon there was an earthquake which shook the walls of the castle, and a black carriage drawn by two black horses stood in the castle yard. A handsome man dressed in black stepped from the carriage, bowed to the lady and bade her prepare to follow him. Tremblingly—for she knew well who the stranger was—she begged him to let her remain three years yet; to this the visitor would not consent. She begged for three months; this was also denied her, and at last she prayed for three days, then three hours, but was allowed only three minutes in which to dispose of her household affairs.

When she saw that prayers availed her nothing she asked him to, at least, allow her curate, chambermaid and house servants to go with her on the journey. This was granted, so they entered the carriage, which was instantly under way and went off at such a speed that the people who stood in the yard saw nothing but a black streak behind it.

When the lady and her followers had ridden some time they came to a lighted castle, up the steps of which the black gentleman conducted them. Arriving in the hall, he deprived the lady of her rich clothes and gave her instead a coarse gown and wooden shoes. Next he combed her hair three times with such a vengeance that the blood streamed from her head, and concluded by dancing with her three times until her shoes were filled with blood.

After the first dance she asked permission to give her gold ring to her chamberlain, whose fingers were burned by it as with fire. After the second dance she gave the chambermaid her key ring, which scorched her fingers as if glowing iron. At the termination of the third dance a trap in the floor opened and the woman vanished in a cloud of smoke and flames.

The priest who stood nearest peeped with curiosity into the opening where the woman had gone down, when a spark came up from below and hit him in the eye so that thereafter he had but one eye.

When all was over the gentleman in black gave the servants permission to return home, but with strong injunctions not to look back. Hurriedly they sprang into the carriage. The way was broad and straight, and the horses galloped with great speed, but the chambermaid could not control her curiosity, and looked back. Instantly the carriage, horses, even the road disappeared and the travelers found themselves in a wild forest, where they wandered three years before finding their way back to Pintorp.

LAKE GOLDRING. [30]

About a mile and a half from Strengnäs lies a narrow valley, between several wood-covered heights and the island upon which in olden times Ingiald Illrada burned herself and all her attendants.

The valley is called Eldsund, and was formerly an open water way connecting two of lake Mälar’s bays. Vessels went, then, unhindered through there, and not many years ago a sunken vessel was found, buried in the mud that had one time been at its bottom. Now there is nothing but a small stream winding its way between grass-grown banks, and cows and goats graze where the perch and the pike formerly had their playground.

At one place this little stream spreads its banks until a small lake is formed, which was once of quite respectable size, but is now almost grown over with reeds. Many a poor man has there caught a fish for his pot, that otherwise would have been empty enough.

A good while back there lived a lady on the estate not far from this lake, perhaps as near as Näsbyholm, upon which, near the water-course, lies the notable “cuckoo stone.”

This lady was very rich and still more proud, looking with contempt upon all who had less money and lands than she, and were not of as noble blood as she believed herself to be.

One day an old priest visited her. A priest in all respects, not one of those accommodating fellows that could be sent to stir the fire, or one who went with bent back away from home and was painfully straight at home, but a priest who did not hide his thoughts under a chair.

While the priest and his hostess were one day walking along the lake shore, she began, as was her habit, to boast of her riches; to tell how much money she had at interest, and how many tax lists she had complete and incomplete, whereupon the priest asked her how far she thought all that went, or what, after all, it amounted to, for she could not take her riches with her into the grave. At this the lady became angered, and declared that she was so rich that if she should live even many hundreds of years she need not want, and that it was as impossible that she should become poor as it would be to recover her gold ring from the depths of the lake—at the same time drawing a ring from her finger and casting it far out into the water.

The priest maintained that as wonderful things as this had happened in the world, and that it was not more impossible that her ring might be recovered than that she might become poor.

Later in the day an old fisherman came to the house with fish to sell. A number were bought, and the kitchen girl was given the task of cleaning them.

When she cut open the largest pike, she saw something shining, and, upon looking with greater care, she recognized her mistress’ most valuable finger ring. In great haste she rushed to the lady, who sat wrangling with the moderate priest because he could think it possible her riches might be taken from her.

“Has my lady lost her ring?” asked the maid.

The lady ceased to talk, and cast a glance at the priest, who sat quietly at the window looking out toward the lake.

“Here it is, any way,” said the maid, and laid the ring upon the table.

The lady grew pale, but the priest looked more serious than ever.

How it went with her and her riches thereafter, the story does not relate, but the lake is called Goldring to this day.

THE TROLL’S GARDEN AT STALLSBACKE.

In the forest north of Stora Djulö, in the parish of Stora Malm, lies a hill called Stallsbacke—Stall Hill—because King Charles XI. is said to have had his stable there on one of his journeys.

Within the forest near the hill there is an enchanted garden where many a man has gone astray, and has been compelled to wander the whole night through, because he did not know that turning his coat inside out, or throwing fire at the sun, would give him the key to his deliverance.

Many have, during these wanderings, been imprisoned in the enchanted garden, but not all have liberated themselves from the enchantment as old Löfberg, the steward from Stora Djulö, succeeded in doing.

Late one Thursday evening, while traveling the path from the pasture home to the mansion, he found himself suddenly in the presence of a high wall with grated gates, beyond which was visible the most beautiful garden ever seen by man. The moon was high in the heavens, and Löfberg could distinguish objects as clearly as in daylight. He saw that the trees hung full of fruit, and that the bushes were bowed with berries, which glistened like precious stones. When he had viewed the magnificent sight a few minutes, and was about to go on, an old man, who proclaimed himself the gardener, presented himself, and invited Löfberg to go in and gather of the fruit what he pleased. But Löfberg was too wise for this. He understood that what he saw was the work of the Trolls, and answered that at home there was a much more beautiful garden, and that he had no occasion to go into strange gardens to get a few rotten, sour apples.

This he should not have said. Suddenly there came up a strong wind, which blew his hat over the wall, and, as Löfberg left it behind him and hastened home, there came a crash in the forest, whereupon the vision suddenly melted away.

HERR MELKER OF VECKHOLM. [31]

In the parish of Veckholm, east of Svingarn Fjord, lived, in the fifteenth century, a priest widely known for his wisdom and goodness. No day went by that he did not read his Bible, and in the evening, when others had gone to rest, he went to the church to offer up his prayers at the altar.

His wife, who attended only to her worldly affairs, and did not look upon these nightly ramblings kindly, determined to put an end to them, and to this end, one evening, called into service one of the servants. “Lasse,” said she, “if you will put a white sheet over you and stand in the dark near the path and frighten father when he comes from the church, you shall have a pot of ale.”

The man had nothing against this, and with the assistance of his mistress, clad himself as directed and took a position near the path connecting the church and parsonage.

After a while the priest came from the church. Upon observing the spook, he read a prayer and bade the apparition sink into the ground.

The man sank into the ground to his knees without betraying himself, but continued to play the ghost. The priest prayed again, when Lasse sank into the ground to his waist.

“It is I! dear father! it is I!” cried Lasse, now in consternation.

“It is too late! too late, Lasse!” replied the priest, with a sorrowful voice. At the same time the servant sank alive into the earth out of sight.

To commemorate the incident, a wooden cross was raised on the spot, which is always replaced by a new one when the old one has become old and decayed.

THE OLD MAN OF LAGGA.

Near Lagga Church, in the municipality of Langhundra, is a singularly formed mountain. On the side of it toward the church is an opening, from which, it is said, two paths lead—the one south to a hill near the so called “Meadow Watcher’s Cottage,” the other north to Kashögen, near Kasby estate.

In the mountain lived a giant called Lagge Gubben—old man Lagge—who, when last seen, was at least five hundred years old, and his hair as white as the feathers of a dove.

Early one morning a peasant named Jacob going to the village of Lagga, passed the mountain, when the old mountain man came out and saluted him: “Good morning, Joppe! Will you come in and drink healths with me?”

“No, thank you,” replied Jacob, who had no desire for such companionship. “If you have more than you are able to drink, save it until morning, for there is another day coming.”

“That is good advice,” said Lagga. “Had I known that before, I should have been a richer man, now.”

“It is not yet too late,” replied the peasant.

“Yes it is, for I must leave here in the morning on account of the church bells,” said the giant, shaking his fist at Lagga clock tower.

“You will come again, never fear,” said Jacob consolingly.

“Yes, when Lagga Fjord becomes a field and Ostund Lake a meadow,” replied the giant with a sigh, and disappeared into the mountain.

THE WATER NYMPH. [32]

About a mile northwest from Järna Church was located, at one time, a water mill, Snöåqvarn, belonging to the parishioners of Näs.

One Sunday morning, before the church of Järna had a priest of its own, the chaplain of Näs set out for that place, and had just arrived at the mill, when he saw a water man sitting in the rapids below it, playing on a fiddle a psalm from a psalm book.

“What good do you think your playing will do you?” said the priest. “You need expect no mercy!”

Sadly the figure ceased playing, and broke his fiddle in pieces, whereupon the priest regretted his severe condemnation, and again spoke:

“God knows, maybe, after all.”

“Is that so?” exclaimed the man in joy, “then I’ll pick up my pieces and play better and more charmingly than before.”

To another mill in the same parish, Lindqvarn, near Lindsnäs, a peasant came one time with his grist. Along in the night he thought he would go and see if it was yet ground. He noticed on his arrival that the mill was not running, and opened the wicket to the wheel-house to learn what the matter might be, when he saw, glaring at him from the water below, two eyes “as large as half moons.”

“The devil! what great eyes you have!” cried the peasant, but received no reply.

“Whew! what monstrous eyes you have!” the peasant again cried; again no answer.

Then he sprang into the mill, where he stirred up a large fire brand, with which he returned.

“Are your eyes as large now?” he shouted through the wicket.

“Yes!” came in answer from the stream.

Hereupon the peasant ran the stick through a hole in the floor, where the voice seemed to come from, and at once the wheel began to turn again.

BÖLSBJÖRN. [33]

Many generations ago there lived at Bole, in the parish of Ore, a man named Bölsbjörn, noted far and wide for his wonderful strength.

The king, hearing about him, commanded him to come to Stockholm and wrestle with a newly arrived foreign champion named Stenbock, who was said to be so strong that he had never found his superior.

Bölsbjörn hastened to obey the king’s command. Strapping his skates upon him, he set off at such a speed that his dog, which had followed him, gave out and died on the way, and the new-baked bread put into his haversack was yet warm upon his arrival at Stockholm.

He was conducted to the king, and was told that he might name his own reward, however great it might be, if he would vanquish Stenbock.

The struggle was soon begun and suddenly concluded by Bölsbjörn laying his antagonist upon his back with such force that three of his ribs were broken. For his reward, Bölsbjörn demanded as much land as he could skate around in one day, and it was granted him by the king.

When he returned home he had made the circuit of nearly twelve square miles of land, which his descendants to this day occupy.

THE TREASURE SEEKERS.

It is an established rule that he who seeks buried treasures must carefully maintain the utmost silence, lest his search be in vain and harm befall him, body and soul.

They were not ignorant of this—the four men that one time made up a party for the purpose of unearthing treasures said to be buried in Josäterdal.

Making their way, one midsummer night, across Lake Sälen, they saw approaching them a man of strange aspect, behind whose boat dragged a large fir tree, and a little later another, who inquired if they had seen any float-wood on their way.

The treasure seekers, who understood that these rowers were no other than fairies, pretended not to hear the question, and reached Josäterdal finally, without further temptation.

Just as they began to dig in the hill a grand officer approached and addressed them, but no one answered. Soon after a number of soldiers marched up and began to shoot at the diggers, but they did not allow even this to disturb them. Suddenly a red calf hopped up and the soldiers pressed nearer, so that the men soon stood enveloped in powder-smoke so thick that they could not see each other. When this did not frighten them, a tall gallows was raised on the side of the hill. It so happened that one of the diggers wore a red shirt that attracted the attention of the spirits, one of which cried out:

“Shall we begin with him wearing the red shirt?” Whereupon he lost his courage and took to his heels, followed neck over head by the others.

THE LAPP IN MAGPIE FORM. [34]

A Finn in the forests of Säfsen, having for a long time suffered ill luck with his flock, determined, let the cost be what it would, to find, through a Lapp well versed in the arts of the Trolls, a remedy for the evil he was enduring.

To this end he set out for the home of his to-be-deliverer, and after a long and fatiguing journey through the wilderness, he came at last to a Lapp hut which, with no little quaking, he entered, and there found a man busied with a fire upon the floor.

The Lapp who, through his connection with the Trolls, already knew the purpose of the visit, and very much flattered thereby, greeted his guest kindly, and said:

“Good morning, Juga, my boy, are you here? I can give you news from home. Everything goes well there. I was there yesterday.”

The Finn was terribly frightened at the discovery that he was recognized, but now more when he heard that the Lapp had made the same journey forth and back in one day, that had cost him so many days of wandering.

With assurance of friendship, the Lapp quieted his fears, and continued:

“I had a little matter to attend to yesterday at your home, and sat upon the housetop when your wife went over the garden, but I saw she did not know me, for she threatened me with the house key.”

The Finn now made known his errand, and received for answer that his animals were even now doing as well as he could wish. The presents brought by the Finn greatly strengthened their pleasant relations, and the Lapp agreed willingly to initiate him into the mysteries of Trolldom.

When the Finn reached home, the incidents of his journey were circumstantially related to his wife, even to the Lapp’s account of his visit, and the threats with the house key.

“Yes, I remember now,” said she, “that a magpie sat upon the roof the same day that the animals seemed to revive, but I believed it to be an unlucky bird, therefore tried to frighten it away with the key.”

The Finn and his wife now understood that it was their friend, who had transformed himself thus in order to do them a service, and from that time held these creatures in great veneration.

THE PLAGUE. [35]

Memories of the epidemics that have ravaged our country still live in the minds of the people, though, with time, like many other recollections, they have taken the form of myths.

During the plague there was seen, wandering from village to village, a boy and a girl, the one with a rake, the other with a broom. Wherever the boy was seen to use his rake, one and another was spared from death, but where the girl swept, death left an empty house, and the places that were not approached by these beings escaped the plague entirely.

On Soller Island, in Siljan, they strewed gold and precious stones along the roads and paths, which were so infected that he who so much as moved one with his hand became a corpse before the next sunset.

In the end there remained no one on the island except two wise old men, one named Bengh, the other Harold, who were not deluded by the gold, thereby saving their lives.

A number of the islanders escaped by flight and moved to the North Land through the “Twelve-Mile Roads,” that bordered upon Vermland.

Among those who fled was a young and beautiful maiden named Malin, who, when she came out upon the road, observed a glittering jewel, which, upon closer inspection, represented Christ upon the cross. Notwithstanding the warning of her companions, she could not resist the temptation to pick up the doubly valuable article.

When they came later to their first camping place, Rossberg, about four miles from Soller Island, Malin was seen to fall upon her knees and give herself up to earnest prayer, but just as the evening sun hid himself behind a mountain, she sank lifeless upon a stone, which even to this day is called “Malin’s Church,” and is dressed every midsummer by the herdsmen with fresh leaves and fragrant flowers.

THE VÄTTERS. [36]

Vätters, according to the Northern belief, are creatures that live under ground, but often appear above, and then in human form so perfect that they have many times been mistaken for mankind. They live, as do the Trolls and Giants, in mountains, but more often move from one to another, and it is mostly during these journeys that they are seen.

When the parish of Ockilbo was first settled, the Vätters were so plentiful that a peasant who fixed his abode near the Rönn Hills was forced to build his windows high up near the eaves of his cottage to escape seeing the troublesome multitude of these beings that continually swarmed around.

Despite the disposition of the cottager to have nothing to do with the Vätters, he could not avoid getting into complications with them at times.

One evening, when the wife went to drive the goats into the goat house, she saw among hers two strange goats, having horsehoofs instead of cloven hoofs, as should be. Do her utmost, it was impossible to separate them from the others. They pressed on, and were locked up with the rest.

In the night she was awakened by a heavy pounding upon the walls, and a voice from without called:

“Let us be neighborly, mother, and return my goats to me.”

The woman dressed herself and hastened to the goat house, where the strange animals were making a dreadful uproar. Upon her opening the door they sprang out and hurried to the forest, whence she heard the Vätters shouting and calling them.

Thus a friendly feeling was forever established between the cottager and the Vätters, and from that day there were no more disturbances.

FORSSA CHURCH.

In the village Tåsta—Tattestad—in the parish of Hög, lived in former times a widely renowned man named Tatte, whose son, Blacke, after whom the high mountain, Blackåsberg, was named, dwelt in Nannestad, a village in the parish of Forssa.

When the father and son were baptized they together built the church of Hög, in commemoration of the event. Upon its completion Blacke, whose home was a long ride distant, stipulated that the bells, calling the people to worship, should never be rung until his white horse was seen on Åsaks Hill.

One Christmas day, when Blacke was later than usual, Tatte commanded that the bell be rung, and the services had already begun when Blacke arrived at the church. In anger he tore the runic engraved ring from the church door, with prayers bound it upon his horse, made a vow that he would build a church of his own where the ring fell to the ground, and mounting his horse, rode away at full speed.