BERGMEN originated in this way, that when Our Lord cast down the wicked angels from heaven they could not all get to hell together, and some of them settled in the mounds and banks.

Brownies, bergmen, and such creatures originated in this way. When Our Lord cast the wicked angels down from heaven some of them fell on mounds and banks, and these became bergmen; some fell into woods and mosses, and these became fairies (ellefolk), while those that fell into buildings became brownies (nisser). They are just little devils, the whole lot of them.

THE girls from Ry were in the habit of meeting beside Slagelse mounds, when going out to milk their cows, which grazed on common pasture out beside Love Moss. On one occasion several of the girls had assembled, and were dancing round one of the mounds. While the dance was at its height there came out of the mound an old troll, who danced along with them, and sang, "The barley's in ear, the ox has horns, and I am the oldest man that lives in Banke-berg." The foremost girl, whose hand the troll had hold of, exclaimed, "Christ preserve us from the oldest man that lives in Banke-berg." He let them go then, and the girls ran home as hard as they could, some getting their milk-cans with them, and others not.

"ONE evening I was driving along the high-road between Kalundborg and Slagelse, and was just close to Agerup Mill, when I saw on the road before me some little black figures, which at a distance looked like a large crowd of school-boys. As I was driving pretty fast I soon got nearer them, and saw then that they were bergfolk or brownies. They wore dark clothes, and each of them was smoking a silver pipe. As I passed them they greeted me with 'Evening, evening,' for that kind of folk cannot say 'Good evening.' I saw them as plainly as I see you, and I can remember that the sparks flew out of their pipes now and again. I gave myself no time to return their greeting, but laid on to the horses, nor did any of them try to harm me. They must undoubtedly have been underground folk, going to a party in some of the mounds round about."

SOME Jutlanders once got hold of a little bergman. They knew of nothing better than to make him a Christian, and put him on a cart to drive him to the church, where he was to be baptised. As he sat there and peeped out, the peasants heard by the wayside a voice crying, "Whither away, Gillikop?" Then the little man in the cart answered, "A long way, Slangerop; I am going off to a little water, where I expect to be made a better man!"

IN olden times there were not so many who wanted to take farms on lease as there are now. There was then a certain farm, which in a short time had had many tenants, who had all gone wrong together. Some died soon, and others had become so poor that they could not pay the landlord what they owed, and were therefore thrown out of the farm. This had just happened to a tenant, and the landlord made one of his men take the farm (as landlords could do at that time, whether the man wanted to be a farmer or not). The evening that this man entered on the farm, he said, as he came in at the gate, "Well, good evening, Skalle." It was the farm he meant, because it was so bare (skallet) and desolate. But with that he heard a voice above the gate, which answered, "Good evening." The man was surprised at this, but immediately said, "If there is anyone here that I can't see, I invite them to be my guest on Christmas Eve."

On Christmas Eve, just as the peasant and his men had finished their work in the stable, and had gone into the house, but had not as yet got the candles lit, there came a little man in to them, and said, "Good evening, and a Merry Christmas to you all." "Who are you?" said the farmer. "I am the one you invited to come this evening," said the little man. "Then please sit down at the table," said the farmer, "and take a bite of meat." The stranger sat down, and ate along with them. "Now, I invite you to be my guest on New Year's Eve," said the troll, for it was a troll. "O, thanks," said the farmer, "but where do you live?" "Just come to the outside of your stable-door, and you will be sure to meet me," said the troll.

On New Year's Eve, the farmer went to the outside of his stable-door, and the troll immediately came and took him down under the ground, to his dwelling. It was pretty and nice there, thought the farmer. The troll bade him sit down at the table, and they got boiled rice, but just as they sat and ate, the troll snatched the dish off the table. The farmer was a little astonished at this, but he summoned up courage to ask "What's the meaning of that?" "Don't you see, there's a drip comes down on the table," said Skalle (for that was the troll's name), "and that's the reason that no one can get on in the farm, but if you shift the stable to another side of the yard, you will become a rich man here."

The farmer did so, and after that got on splendidly, for he had success both in crops and cattle, and became a well-to-do man.

IN Erslev there is a farm called Höjgaard, which takes its name from a mound (höj) that lies near it. The farmer had once taken all the greensward off this, and carted it off to his dung-heap. In the gloaming, when the good-wife was about to go into the kitchen to light the candle, she found that she was unable to enter it, there was no room for her. She called on her husband, and asked him to come into the kitchen, but he could not manage it either, and yet he could see nothing. "What's the reason of this?" he asked. "Oh, it's WE OTHERS who live in the mound. You have taken our roof off, and the rain is coming in on us." They got leave then to stay in the farm for the time being, on condition of causing as little trouble as possible, the farmer promising to put the mound in good order again. He then took his whole dung-heap, and carted it up to the mound, where he spread it out and beat it well down. After that they saw no more of them, but there was great blessing and plenty on that farm, which has continued ever since, so that they are rich folks to this day.

THE bergman in Dagberg Dos had gone down one day to take a turn in Hone Moss, where the boys go with the cattle in the summer. While there he was so unfortunate as to lose the key of his money-chest, and it was impossible to find it again. He then stood on the top of the mound, and shouted every day to the boys

Finally one of the boys did find the key, and was eager enough to give it up and get the great reward, but we shall hear how well the bergman kept his promise. When the boy had got up on the mound, with the key in his hand, he thought he would just look what the cattle were doing, but when he turned round they were running about and straying in every direction. At this he was so startled that he threw the key from him, and ran down to them as fast as he could, and never got either gold or silver for finding the bergman's key.

THERE lived an old woman in Andrup, of the name of Ann Oyster (Ove's daughter), who was employed as a midwife. One time during the summer she had been attending the wife of the farmer of Lille-kræns, and while returning home was passing the two mounds between which his fields lay. There she noticed an unusually large toad, of the kind they call "padder," with white stripes on its back. To this she said in jest, "I shall come and help you too when you are in labour," never thinking that her words had any significance. Some time after this she heard a waggon come driving up one night and stop before her house. She hurriedly rose, wondering who it could be that had come for her, as she did not know of any one likely to want her services so soon. She opened the door, and there entered a little man, with a beard so long that he almost trod on it, who explained his errand, and asked her to go home with him. "You have made a mistake, my little man," said she; "you are none of my folk." "Yes," said he, "you must come with me, if you wish to be prosperous; you promised it to my wife fourteen days ago." So she went along with him, not daring to refuse. He drove on for a long time, as she thought, and it was pitch dark too. Finally she entered a long passage, and found a little, thick woman lying in bed, and so wretched was the place that she had nothing but straw to lie on. Ann aided her successfully, and she was delivered of a pretty boy. "You are surely very poor here," said Ann, while the man was outside. "No, indeed, we are not so poor," said the woman. "There is a jar standing in the window there; dip your finger in it, and anoint your right eye with that." As soon as she had done so, everything was changed; she was in a most beautiful hall, and had never been in any mansion that was so grand. The woman then, putting her hand into a pot, gave her a whole handful of gold coins, and said: "When my husband comes to drive you home, you must spring off the waggon as soon as the horse seems to be going through soft ground, otherwise you will not escape him. You will be just at home then." In a little the man came, and asked if they were ready. He drove off with her again, and a long time passed, so that she fell into a doze, but woke up with the horse dragging in mire up to its sides. Then she sprang out at once, and stood just at the end of her house.

In the following autumn the berg-folk came to help themselves at Lille-kræns. In the evenings the folk were in the habit of dragging the corn, and setting it up between the mound by moonlight. The old woman then saw the little man springing in front of her and taking every tenth sheaf. She thought this was too much, and said to him, "You mustn't do the like of that; that's stealing." He was surprised at this, and said to her, "Can you see me?" Yes, that she could. "Shut your left eye," he said: "can you see me now?" "Yes," said she. Then he understood that it was her right eye she saw him with, and poked it out. From that time forth she was one-eyed and could see him no longer.

Two girls were digging in a garden when one of them found a mole. "Kill it," said the other, but the one who found it said "No;" it would be a sin to kill it, it did no harm. They argued over this for a little, but the finder prevailed at last, and they let it go. Some days after, as the girl stood by the fireplace, there came to her a little man, and asked if she would visit them on Sunday; they were to have a christening, and would she carry the child, and bring the other girl with her? Both of the girls promised to come.

Next Sunday, at the hour appointed, they were dressed in all their finery, and the little man came to fetch them. He took them round behind the oven, where they saw a little hole they had never noticed before; into this the man went, and the girls followed. On entering this, they found a great company of little creatures assembled in a large room: this was the christening party, and they took the child to church, and had it baptized. On returning home from church, they sat down at table, as is the custom, but after having sat for a little the first girl happened to look up, and saw a huge millstone hanging over her head. She could see nothing that it hung by, and thought that it was quite loose, but on looking closer she discovered that it was hanging by a silk-thread. At this she was terrified and gave a scream, whereupon the woman asked her what she was frightened at. "Good reason to be frightened," said she, "with such a millstone hanging above my head; if it falls I shall be killed." "Yes; my life also hung by a thread the other day," said the woman, "for it was me that you dug up in the garden in the shape of a mole, and I thank you for sparing my life, but you need not be in the least afraid of the stone, it is only a deception to show you what danger I was in."

When the two girls were about to return home, the man came and gave each of them a quantity of shavings, thanking them for their trouble in coming. They returned by the same hole as they had entered, and on reaching the kitchen one of the girls threw away her shavings, and laughed a good deal at the little man's present. The other one, however, thought to herself, "If they do no good, they'll do no harm either," and laid them in a drawer beside her clothes. Some days later she wanted to look at her clothes, and on lifting them there was a great rattling in the drawer. She looked to see what this might be, and found that the shavings had turned to pure gold. Off she ran in great glee, and told this to the other girl, who was then vexed that she had thrown away so much wealth, but gone it was, and gone it had to be.

IN the big sandhills along the shores of the North Sea there lived bergfolk in old days, as well as in the inland mounds. These little creatures are only three or four feet high, with big clumsy heads, broad faces, big round noses, and red hair, and always wear a red woollen cap. These mannikins tried to ally themselves by marriage with the folks in Raa-bjærg, but although they had great stores of silver and gold, and the inhabitants there are known to be ahead of all the other Jutlanders in their regard for money, yet there was no one who would willingly enter into kinship with them, so they often carried off a girl or a child. So it happened at Kande-steder; a girl disappeared one evening while getting supper ready in the kitchen, and nothing could be heard of her. About a year afterwards, as her mother was standing beside the fireplace, also preparing the supper, a large stone was pushed aside in the chimney or hearth, and out of the hole came a troll, who told her to follow him as his wife was in labour. In her alarm the woman dared not scream, and followed him. It was to her own daughter, who was with child to the bergman, and under these circumstances a Christian woman cannot be delivered, until she has a Christian woman beside her. When the bergman had gone out, the daughter said that she was very well off, but longed to see her relatives. "When you are about to go home," she added, "he will give you something for your trouble, but you must not take what seems to you to be money, for that is only leaves; take flints and shavings." Accordingly, when he came with a drawer full of gold and silver coins, and told her to take as many as she pleased, she said, "No, they are too fine for me; may I not rather take some flints from the other drawer?" "You are surely mad," said the troll; "what do you want with flints?" "Oh, I have often to strike fire in the mornings, so I will take them and some shavings." "Well, take them then," said he, "but the one who taught you that did not strike you on the mouth." Her son-in-law then led her up into the kitchen again, where her husband and children were greatly surprised to see her, having long sought for her in vain, for she had been absent about eight days. In her hand she had two of the coins, which were now only pieces of peat, whereas her apron was full of old crowns and ducats. When she had told her husband the whole story, he said, "Well, it's a pity that Karen is gone, but her advice was not so foolish, and the journey not so bad after all." And in that he was right, for he and his family became the richest people in the parish, and so are their descendants to this very day.

THERE was once a girl at service with the midwife in Valhi, who always complained of having such pains in her arms, as if she was quite killed with work, and yet her place was an easy enough one. One time the midwife had been sent for, but as she was driving past a mound, there came out one who took her out of the waggon, away from the man who had been sent for her, and carried her down through the mound to a large cave below it, where she had to assist a woman. When this was done, she noticed a girl standing and grinding malt with a quern, looking exactly like her own maid, and even wearing a pelisse the very same as one she had given her. She talked a little to the girl, who said that she was so tired, and had a great deal to grind yet before she would be finished. Meanwhile the woman slyly cut a piece out of her pelisse. In the morning her own maid was lying asleep in her bed, but by and bye she came, and complained that some one had cut a piece out of her pelisse. Her mistress now brought the piece she had cut, and it fitted exactly, so she told the girl that it was no wonder her arms ached, seeing that she had to stand and grind away at the troll's quern by night. With that she told her the whole story, and advised her to repeat the Lord's prayer, and cross herself every evening on going to bed, before she laid herself down to sleep. This proved effectual.

ON the estate of Skovs-gaard in Humblè parish, there lived in the sixteenth century a pirate, who lived a wild and savage life, and was feared by every one. With him lived his sister Ellen, who was mild and good, and tried to influence her brother, but without effect, although he was very fond of her. One day she went out into the forest with two friends, and on coming to a little mound Maid Ellen sat down, and told the others to go on a little and come back to her, as she was tired and wished to rest. They left her alone there, and on their return Maid Ellen was gone; the grass was all trampled, and they found one of her gloves on the top of the mound. They ran to the house and told this to her brother, who immediately took fifteen of his best horsemen with him, and some musicians, and betook himself to the mound. Around this they began to ride, playing the meanwhile, and this went on for 40 days and nights. As soon as the one party grew tired others took their place, until on the 40th night the mound was suddenly lifted on four pales, and a troll came out leading Maid Ellen by the hand, and saying that here she was now, and they might stop all the noise and music. They rode home with her then, and the troll-mound looked just as before, but round about it (it now bears the name of Ellens-bjærg) there are still traces of a path. She brought with her out of the mound a silk gown that she was sewing at, but in the haste with which she left, she only took one sleeve with her, and she could nowhere get the cloth matched again. She also brought with her a silver knife and fork, which are still preserved in Taasinge Castle, and have the property of stopping blood.

When her brother died, his ghost went about, and they had to send for the priest to exorcise him, but the dead man asked him so difficult questions that he nearly lost the day. Among other things, he asked where our Lord was, when he was neither in heaven nor on earth. The priest stood and could give no answer, but Ellen, who was sitting at a window on the second floor, under which they were standing, answered that then he hovered over the waters. When her brother heard this, he began to sink into the earth, but found time to call out to her, "If I had thought that of you, little sister, you should have remained in Ellens-berg."

There is still a hollow where she came out of the mound, and neither leaf nor grass grows on it to this day. It was on the seventh Wednesday in Lent that she was brought out, and every year after that a sermon was preached on that day in Humblè Church, for which Skovs-gaard had to pay ten dollars to the priest of that parish. Not so many years back the service was dropped, because no one came to it latterly, but the payment is still made to the priest every year.

A WOMAN'S child was once changed by the troll-folk, and instead of a beautiful fair-haired bairn, she got a little dumpy creature, with a big head, and little eyes as black as coal. The poor mother had recourse to a "wise woman," who gave her the following advice. She should first try whether the child was really a changeling, and if was so, she should threaten to throw it into the heated baking-oven, and then its real mother would come and take it away. The woman therefore set the changeling down on the hearth, while she went about saying to herself that now she would start to brew. She then took seven egg-shells filled with water, and set them on the fire beside the child, after which she hid herself near at hand, to see how the changeling would behave at this. It looked long at the egg-shells in which the water was boiling, and then exclaimed in amazement: — "Long have I lived and much have I seen. I have seen Rold Forest seven times burned down, and seven times grow up again, but never have I seen anyone brew in egg-shells." The woman then came out of her hiding-place and said: "Then you are old enough now, you little troll! Into the oven you shall go." But immediately there appeared a little grey female with the woman's child on her arm, which she gave her, while at the same time she seized the changeling and said, "I have never treated your child as you have treated mine!"

IN Rold Forest, beside Hobro, there lived a married couple who had only one child, a boy of eight or nine years old, but he was no bigger than a child of three. He had a large head and thick speech, and was as ugly as sin, but neither the man nor the wife could see this, for of course everyone thinks well of their own children. One harvest the man had a litter of little pigs, and as these were so cheap that year that it would not pay to sell them, they roasted them and ate them themselves; they wrapped them up in a piece of canvas, plastered this over with clay, and laid them in the glowing ashes, and when they were sufficiently roasted, they could flay canvas, clay and hair off them, and then take out the inside. This then made a beautiful roast, which they ate with great satisfaction. One day they had laid one of the little pigs in the ashes to be cooked in this way, and had gone out to the harvest, leaving it to be ready when they came home again. The child was left poking about at home, and in raking among the ashes it found the pig. At first it was greatly puzzled as to what this could be, but finally made up its mind that it was a sausage. At this it was greatly delighted, leapt and sprang round the room, crying out, "Sausage, have you ears? sausage, have you eyes? sausage, have you a tail? I have lived so long that I have seen Rold Forest cut down twice and grow up thrice, but never have I seen such a sausage!" It kept on shouting this and leaping about, till finally it crawled up on a rafter, and was sitting there repeating the same words, when the man and his wife came home. The woman heard it and said, "Now I know why the child is never growing any bigger; it is a changeling, but I'll soon get rid of it." She entered the house, and called to the little fellow to come down, as she wanted to talk to him. He did so, and she took him and gave him a good thrashing, and threw him out of doors. There he lay and howled at the pitch of his voice, and after a while there came an ugly little woman with a child on her arm, which she threw to the woman, saying, "There you have your youngster; I have been better to it than you have been to mine." When she had said this she disappeared with the changeling, but the woman's own child was quite ruined by the troll-folk, and died soon after.

EAST from Ronnebæk there lay a little mound which was called Dragehöi; it is now levelled with the ground, but within living memory it was an ancient grave-mound, where a girl once found a clay vessel with ashes and bones in it. Formerly every Christmas Eve it stood raised on four fiery pillars, and the trolls could be seen dancing inside. The little trolls who lived in this mound, often resorted to a small farm close by, which now is given up. There they often borrowed various articles, especially for festive occasions. Thus one of the trolls, named "One-Leg," came once to the farmer's wife, and told her he was to be married, and therefore wanted to borrow dishes, ladles, and many other things. The woman lent him what he wished, but asked in return, that she might be allowed to see the bridal procession. "One Leg" promised that she should be allowed to see it, but at the same time it would cause her a little unpleasantness. On the wedding day, as the household sat at dinner, the woman saw the little bride with her following, come dancing through the room, and as "One Leg" came hopping behind them, she could not help laughing out loud, and still more did she laugh when "One Leg" came past her children, who were sitting eating out of a clay dish, and struck out with his leg, so that the dish went on the floor. The farmer, who could see nothing, except that the dish fell on the floor, became angry, and gave his wife a good box on the ear because she laughed at the children spilling the good food, and breaking the dish; but the woman could not even then stop her laughing until the procession was out of the room.

STEN of Fogelkärr in Svarteborg parish was a good marksman. One day he went out hunting, and came to the neighbourhood of a knoll. There he caught sight of a pretty young girl, sitting on a stone outside the mound; and, as he at once determined to have the pretty maiden for his wife, he threw his fire-steel between her and the mound, so as to get her in his power. Then he heard a long laugh from inside; this was the pretty girl's father, the bergbo, who now opened the door, and asked the hunter, "Will you have my daughter?" to which Sten answered "Yes." As she was quite naked, he took his coat and wrapped her in it, carried her home, and had her baptised. But before he left the mound, her father gave him these orders: "When you hold your wedding with my daughter, you must brew twelve barrels of ale, take bread for that, and the flesh of four oxen, and bring it to the berg here where I live; when the wedding presents are to be given, mine shall not be wanting." The bergman honourably kept his promise, for as the wedding party sat at table, and the presents were, according to old custom, being collected from the guests, the roof was suddenly lifted up, and a large purse of money thrown in; along with it the old man's voice was heard: "Here's my wedding gift, and when you want your dowry, you must drive to the mound with four horses and get your share." This was done, and when Sten, says the story, came to the berg with four horses he got several copper kettles, the one bigger than the other. He also got "brand" cattle, of which good breed descendants were long afterwards found in that place. Sten became thereafter a rich and powerful man, and had many strong and handsome children by the wife he found in this way. Even yet there are said to be families in the district, who trace their descent from Sten of Fogelkärr and the bergwoman.

THE Bergman of Dagberg-daas had a daughter who was married to a smith in Mors. The smith was bad to the woman, and often beat her, until finally she got tired of this, and once, when he laid hold of her, she, instead of growing yellow with vexation, seized a horse-shoe which was lying on his anvil, and broke it in two, right in front of the smith's nose.

The smith now had considerably more respect for the woman's powers, and did not try her patience further. But as rumour told strange things about her, she was not at all respected by the good folk in the neighbourhood; she had to mind her own business, and even in church no one would sit by her side. One Sunday, just as the people were standing in the churchyard waiting for the priest, she too was standing there, but in a corner by herself. All at once, she pulled her husband by the coat, "Listen, goodman," said she, "my father is coming to visit me to-day, but he is angry, I can see that by the mist over the sea, which goes before him." The mist parted, and the Bergman came up on shore, and was of so terrible an appearance that many a one of those who saw him, would willingly have crept into a mouse-hole for fright.

"Well, my daughter," said he to her, "I think people must be made to have a better opinion of you: I believe I can bring that about. We will try tossing them in the air a bit; whether will you throw them or catch them?" "Catch them," said the woman, for she was afraid that otherwise he would handle them too roughly. The Bergman now began to lay hold of the church-goers, one after the other, and throw them over the roof of the church, while she caught them on the other side. From that time forth, all the rest had to do as the smith had done, and treat his wife rather differently.

A MAN from Levring had been in Viborg, and when nearing home on his return journey, was about to walk up a steep slope by the side of his cart, when he heard a cry from a mound, "Won't you tell Black-eye that Viting is dead." The man was greatly frightened, but arrived home in safety. As he drove up to the door, his wife came out, and asked whether he could see to find the house. Yes, said he, that was not so bad, but he had been somewhat frightened in coming past the mounds outside the village, for there was some one there that shouted, "Tell Black-eye that Viting is dead." As he said this to his wife, there arose a cry in the yard, "Oh! is Viting dead?" The man and his wife went in and could see nothing, but later on in the evening, when the wife went out to take the barm off the ale, she found in the vat a large silver cup. Black-eye had no doubt been busy taking some of the ale, but on hearing of Viting's death had run home, and in his confusion had forgotten to take the cup with him. The old man who told this story says that the silver cup is still to be found on a farm in Lev-ring, and that he himself has drunk out of it. It has been there for more than 150 years.

THE south-eastern farm in the village of Vissing, beside Randers, is called PiIgaard. The tenant of this was out driving one day in winter, and on his way home in the evening was passing Os-höj. Beside this he saw someone standing, who beckoned to him and shouted, "I say, make haste and drive home, and tell Finkenæs that Jafet is dead." "What do you say?" said the man. The stranger repeated his shout, until the man finally got hold of the curious names, but thought no more about it after he reached home. It was cold weather, and when he entered the house he blew on his hands, and complained of the cold. "You will soon get some warm kail to your supper," said his wife. Just at that same moment the man noticed a stranger sitting beside the stove, and asked him if he would also have some. The person thanked him, and sat down at the table. The man blew on his kail, and said, "They are hot yet." At this the stranger remarked, "You said it was cold when you blew on your hands to warm them, and now you blow on the kail to cool them; can you blow both hot and cold with one mouth?" The man said he could. "Then you are my master," said the other. "Where do you come from?" asked the man, who just then remembered the incident at the mound; "perhaps you are from Os-höj, and are called Finkenæs." Yes, that was his name. "Well, as I came past the mound, there was a person standing outside who shouted to me to tell Finkenæs that Jafet was dead." "What! is Jafet dead?" shouted the stranger, threw down his spoon, and out at the door. A week later he came again, and told the farmer that because he brought him such good news, and because he and his forefathers had never disturbed the mound, he would bring it about that Pilgaard should never want an heir, nor pass into the hands of strangers, but there would only be one heir always, or two at most. This has held good for at least five generations back.

A MILE from Sorö lies Pedersborg, and a little further away is the village of Lynge. Between these two villages there is a mound called Bröndhöi, which is said to be inhabited by trolls. Among these there was once an old jealous troll whom the others called Knurremurre ("the grumbler,") because he was often the cause of dissension and disturbance in the mound. This Knurremurre had once discovered that his young wife had a good understanding with a young troll, and the old fellow was so angry at this that he threatened the other's life, so that he found it best to flee from the mound, and betook himself in the shape of a red cat to the village of Lynge, where he ingratiated himself in this form with a poor cottar of the name of Plat. There he lived for a good while, got every day his porridge and milk, and lay the whole blessed day in an armchair behind the stove. One evening Plat came home, and just as he entered the room, the cat was lying in his usual place, scraping porridge out of a pot and licking it off his paws. "Well, good-wife," began the man, "I'll tell you what happened to me on the road. As I came past Bröndhöi, a troll came out and called to me, saying, "I say, Plat, tell your cat that Knurremurre is dead." At these words the cat rose up on its hind legs, let the pot roll away and said, as it crept out at the door, "What! is Knurremurre dead, then I must hurry home."

BESIDE Gudmandstrup in Oddsherred, there is a mound called Hiule-höi. The berg folk who live in it are well-known in the villages round about, and if any one forgets to make the sign of the cross on their ale barrels, the trolls from Hiule-höi slip in there to steal the ale. Late one evening a peasant was coming past the mound, and saw it standing on red posts, and under it there was music, dancing, and a grand festival. The peasant stopped to look at their merry-making, but just as he stood and marvelled at it, the dance stopped and the music ceased, and amid much lamentation he heard a troll cry, "Skotte has fallen into the fire, come and help him out." The mound then sank, and the whole merriment was at an end.

Meanwhile, the peasant's wife was at home all alone, and as she sat and span her tow, she had not noticed that a troll had crept into the next room by the window, and was standing by the ale barrel, drawing ale in his copper kettle. The door was open, and the troll was keeping an eye on the woman. Just then the man entered the room, feeling quite strange by reason of what he had heard and seen. "Well, goodwife," he began, "I'll tell you what has happened to me," (the troll was all attention), "as I came past Hiule-höi I saw a big troll-festival, but just as it was at its best, some one shouted 'Skotte has fallen into the fire, come and help him out.'" On hearing this, the troll who stood beside the ale barrel was so alarmed that he let the kettle fall to the ground, left the ale running and hurried out at the window as fast as he could. At this noise the people understood well enough what had taken place, and finding the copper kettle, they took it as payment for the ale spilt, and that same kettle, it is said, was to be seen for many years after, in the villages round about.

ONE evening as a man was driving past the eastern Mölgaard mound, he heard some one calling on him. At first he was alarmed and drove on, but it presently occurred to him that he was in want of two plough-irons, so he called out to the troll-folk, and asked if they would make them for him before his return. They promised to do so, and when he came back to the mound there came out of it two little fellows, carrying two red-hot plough-irons, which they threw into the back of his cart, with the words, "Just fix them on when you get home: they'll fit all right." The man was rather scared, and feared they would set fire to his cart, but on reaching home he tried them, and found them better than any he had ever had. After six or seven years had passed they began to crack, and he sent them to the smith, not daring to take them back to the mound, as he had never paid them for making them. As soon as the smith laid them in the fire they turned to coal, whereas if the man had been wise enough to lay them down on the mound, he would have got them back whole and sound.

ON Mors in Jutland there stands a mansion called Overgarth, in which there once lived a lady, Fru Mette by name. A little bergman came to her one day, and said, "Fru Mette of Overgarth, will you lend Fru Mette of Undergarth your silk petticoat to be married in?" This she did, but as it was a long time before it was brought back, she went to the mound one day, and called from the outside, "Give me back my petticoat." The bergman then came out, and gave her the petticoat, all covered with drops of wax, saying, "Since you have asked for it, take it as it is; but if you had waited a few days, there would have been a diamond on it for every spot of wax."

EAST from Nörre-tang in Ulfborg there is a mound with bergfolk in it. One of their women came to the farm one evening, and asked for the loan of a barrel of ale. The farmer's wife asked where she came from. "Don't you know me?" said she: "we have been neighbours for so many years!" She then explained that she came from the mound, and got the ale. In a few days she came back to repay it, and said, "So long as you refrain from looking into the barrel, so long shall it continue to give out ale; and your race shall be prosperous to the fourth or fifth generation, because you lent to me." The barrel did continue to yield ale for a long time, but finally curiosity got the upper hand, and the woman must have a peep into it, cost what it would. She found it full of mould and cobwebs, and after that all was over with the ale.

IN old days there lived Nisses (bergfolk) in a mound in Fyen, and one evening they took counsel as to where they should steal some ale which they wanted. Some said they should go the clerk's, but the others said it was too thin, and finally it was agreed to take it from the cooper, for his was so rich. On arriving there they crept in at the window of his ale-cellar, where they went round and tasted the ale, and finally found a barrel with ale in it, which they proceeded to drag off with them. The cooper, however, was awake and heard the noise in his cellar, and went down to see what was the cause of it. All the nisses then crept out at the window again, except one who could not get away so quickly as the others, and therefore had to creep into an empty ale barrel that stood there. The man, seeing the point of a red cap sticking up out of this, put the bung into the barrel and went his way. On telling his wife what he had done, she made intercession for the nisse, but the man answered that he would teach the thieving pack to leave his ale in peace. So the poor nisse had to sit in the barrel overnight, but there was no pin in the tap-hole, and this was so big that he could get two of his fingers out at it, and with these he managed to make the hole so large that he could put out one of his legs. In the morning then, what did the cooper see but the nisse in the barrel, hopping off across the yard on his one leg? When he got over the gutter, the barrel fell in pieces, and the nisse bolted for the mound as fast as he could. From this he got the name of Halte-kok. When he reached the mound, and told the other nisses what 'had befallen him, they decided to revenge themselves, and they did so, for the following night they went and took the taps out of all the cooper's ale barrels, and let all the ale run out.

IN Maal-bjærg there lived a nisse, who was king over a great part of the berg-folk round about. One time there was a great wedding in Kjöl-by, and after the bridal party had set out for the church, a herd-boy was lying by the side of this mound, when he heard a great uproar get up inside it, and shouts of "Give me my hat! Give me my hat!" He was a bold-hearted fellow, this same herd-boy, so he also shouted, "Give me one too!" "There's none left but father's old one," was the answer. "Give me that then," said he. He got the hat and put it on, and with that the dwarfs came up, and made for Kjöl-by, and the boy went with them, thinking he had just as good a right as they had. When they came to the scene of the wedding, the guests were just sitting down to the table, so the dwarfs stuck themselves up between the guests wherever they thought fit, and all began to eat. As a result there was not enough food for all, which the cook could not understand, as she had prepared as much as at other times. When they had finished eating, they prepared for dancing, in which the trolls also joined, dancing with their own women. When the people had danced for some time, some one happened to knock the herd-boy's hat off, and there he stood in his old clothes. They then wanted to know how he came there, and he told them the whole story, but could not understand how they could not see him before. As he was coming to the farm he had said "good day" to the folks he passed, but these could see nothing either.

"ONE year there was a summer festival at Anders Andersen's, and I played to the dancers — that time they had the summer festival from Volder-mass (May 1st) until they 'rode summer out of town' on St. John's Day, and those who 'went off' paid the musician his fee on Our Lady Day, and so all was over for that summer. They danced in the southern length of the village barn, and I played to them in the afternoon in a way that was a delight to hear. In the evening they danced by moonlight (for it was full moon), and had all the doors and windows open. All at once the fiddle became as dumb as a clog. I waxed my bow and scraped away again, but it was all the same. I tore and scraped at it, but there was no more music in it than in an old wooden shoe. They were dancing 'mollevit,' and I know that at any other time I could play that till everything rang again, but now the fellows tramped and stamped quite out of time, for they could hear no music. When I came home, Karen was lying awake and said to me, 'It was awful the way they danced and performed under the loom there all evening. They danced reels and they danced 'mollevit,' and I thought that you sat at the end of the table and played to them, for I could hear both the tunes just as clearly as if you were sitting there. Now and again one of the little things would jump into the air, clap his wooden shoe and say, 'He thinks he is playing to them over there, but we are taking his music.' 'Yes, now I can understand why the fiddle would not sound,' said I, and went off to my bed."

IN Volstrup, in Hörmested parish, there was once a large farm, which was split up half a century ago. Long before that time there were once two men, belonging to the farm, ploughing on the fields that lie between it and the large mound to the east. When they came to the east end of the field, close to the mound, they could feel the smell of bread-baking coming from it, and immediately noticed lying there a bread shovel which was broken. From this they guessed that the troll was not at home, and that his wife was in perplexity how to get the bread into the oven, since her shovel was broken.

Fortunately, one of the men had a few nails in his tobacco pouch, and with these he mended the shovel. The other man, who stood and looked on, said then, "Now we shall want some hot bread from the berg-wife for our trouble." "I ask for nothing," said the other. After the men had gone home for dinner, and came back to their ploughing, they found, when they came to the east end of the field, a little tray with two small loaves on it, lying beside the mound. The one who had asked for the bread, was now afraid to eat of it; whereas the other, who had mended the shovel, ate his, and found himself very well after it. The first, on the other hand, put his in his pocket, to be able to show the girls at the farm the troll-wife's bread. But when he got home, he suddenly took ill and died. He ought not to have despised the bread which he himself had asked for, and still less to have made fun of it. The loaf (a stone shaped like a loaf) was preserved in Volstrup, for many years after, until the farm was burned down, in the beginning of this century.

IN Gotland lies a high mound, known by the name of Hoberg, in which for a long time there lived a powerful berg-troll, who, from his place of residence, was called the "Old Man of Hoberg." Not far away there lived a poor farmer who had intercourse with the troll, from which he thought he might derive some advantage. Many, indeed, assert that those who wish to have good luck in hunting or fishing, should employ such unlawful means, and form connections, with the beings that haunt the woods and lakes.

It so happened that this farmer's wife gave birth to a child, and when it was to be baptised, the farmer was quite puzzled as to whom he should ask to stand godfather to it. The farmer's boy noticed that something was weighing on his master's mind, and being desirous to know what ailed him, the following conversation took place between them.

"I think," said the boy, "that you ought rather to be happy just now, than go and look glum: you have now get an heir, and yet you go about and mope."

"What you say is true enough," answered the farmer, "but, for all that, there is something, that not without good reason troubles and vexes me, and that is, that I now ought to invite some godfathers to the baptism, according to use and wont. Now, if I pass over the Old Man of Hoberg, who has done me so much good, as you very well know, he will be so offended that I can never expect him to do me any further service, however great necessity comes upon me. On the other hand, if I do invite him, he is well enough able to eat up all my food, so that I perhaps would come to stand before the other guests in shame and disgrace, for you know well what a fearful eater and drinker he is, so that it is almost impossible to satisfy him, especially for such a poor man as I am."

"I know that that is the case," said the boy, "but keep your mind easy; I shall manage things in such a way that there will be no difficulty about what you are so much afraid of. I shall go to him now, and invite him to the feast, but shall talk to him so cleverly that he won't come."

"If you can manage that," said the farmer, "you will do me so great a service that you will, in all justice, deserve to be praised for it, and may expect a reward if you come back with your errand well discharged."

His boy then asked him for a sack, and started on his way to the Old Man of Hoberg. He presented himself before him, and said, "My master sends you his greeting, and asks if you will be so good as to oblige him with some fish, as you have previously been in the habit of doing when he has asked you. This time though, he wants no small ones, nothing but big ones."

"And what is his reason," asked the Old Man, "for wanting only big fish, and no little ones this time; he has always been quite content with what he could get, big and little mixed."

"Well," said the boy, "he is going to have a christening party, for he has been blessed with a son and heir, and for that reason I have also been sent to invite you to be one of the godfathers."

This greatly delighted the Old Man of Hoberg. "For as old and as gray as I am," said he, "no one has ever done me that honour yet; give him my compliments, and thank him from me, for his invitation, and say that I shall come, — but, I say, who are to be god-fathers besides?" "St. Peter," said the boy.

"Ah," said the Old Man, "then I am not quite sure if I can come; for I have heard that St. Peter is an obstinate fellow, and for that reason we perhaps might not get on very well under one roof; but all the same, as your master has done me the honour to invite me, I shall come, and see how we can agree together. But are there to be no more god-fathers?"

"O, yes," said the boy, "Our Lord too."

"Then, I can scarcely come," said the Old Man, "for St. Peter and I might perhaps have got on together in the same house, but scarcely Our Lord and I. But, all the same, since my neighbour has done me the honour, I shall come, for no one has ever paid me such a compliment before, for as old and gray as I am. But I shall just set myself in a corner, and see how things go on. Are there to be any more god-fathers?"

"No," said the boy.

"Then which of the god-mothers is to carry the child?"

"The Virgin Mary," said the boy.

"He is cutting a mighty dash with his god-fathers and god-mothers," said the Old Man. "I suppose he has engaged some musicians when he is going such a length with the rest of it."

"Yes," said the boy, "the DRUMMER is to be musician."

"I was really thinking of coming," said the Old Man, "even although St. Peter and Our Lord were coming, as he had done me the honour to invite me, but when the DRUMMER is coming" (by which he understood and meant thunder), "then I simply won't come, I tell you flat, for a fortnight ago I was at a party, and, as I was going home, the clouds came over the sky, and the DRUMMER began to beat his drum so hard — that I grew, frightened and started to run home as fast as ever I could; but just as I got to my outer door, he threw one of his drum-sticks after me" (by this he meant a thunder-bolt), "and broke one of my thigh-bones, which I feel painful yet, and so I daren't encounter him in any way. If I were to come just now, he would perhaps break my other leg for me this time. So give my regards to your master, and thank him for the invitation, but say that I can't come — but, I say, is it the custom to give presents to the child on such occasions?"

"O, yes," said the boy, "those who want to be like their neighbours always give something."

"Come this way then," said the Old Man, "and I will also send some presents, although I am not coming myself, for I will not be the least in any thing." So he took the boy with him down into a cave, where there stood chests filled with dollars and other silver coins, told him to hold the sack open, took a shovelful of dollars and cast them into the sack. After he had done this, he asked the boy if it was customary to give more.

"Well, I have seen some who gave more," said he.

"In no way will I be the least," said the Old Man, and thereupon took another shovelful and threw it into the sack, asking as before, if it was customary to give more.

"O, yes," said the boy, "I have seen one person who gave more."

"Then I won't be the least," said the Old Man, and again he took a shovelful and threw it into the sack, and still asked if any one was in the habit of giving more.

"No," said the boy, "I have never seen any one give more;" for he had now as much as he could carry, otherwise he would certainly have said "yes" once again to the Old Man's question, and so have got him to pour another shovelful of dollars into the sack.

"Now, go home with that," said the Old Man, "and come back again, and you shall have the fish."

The boy did so, and in this way he had rendered his master a great service, since by his cleverness he had not only contrived to prevent the Old Man of Hoberg from coming to the christening, but also had got a respectable present from him.

WHEN there was war with England, and the English fleet tried to seize upon Bornholm, the underground folks are said to have behaved very bravely. An English fleet lay off Povlsker parish, and the inhabitants of Bornholm had therefore to keep watch on the south coast. One night there was only one man on the watch, and before he knew of anything the English began to fire. At first the man did not know what to do, but he then heard voices saying, "Fire, fire." (The underground folks cannot shoot until a Christian man has first done so.) The man obeyed and fired off his rifle against the English, and immediately heard round about him "paf, paf," and saw how the hats flew off the heads of those on board the ships. The English turned and fled in hot haste. At this same time many are said to have heard the underground folks piping, drumming, and rattling their sabres and guns, and have often seen and heard them drilling on Rispe-bjærg.

They have also cavalry, who have been seen riding about after sunset. Some say that their horses have only three legs, but others have seen the tracks of four feet on the newly fallen snow.

A FARMER on Tyholm, who always treated his servants badly, had once a little herd-boy, whom he regularly thrashed for the smallest fault, so that the boy was naturally very much afraid of his severe master. One evening, when he brought home some cattle, it so happened that a black ox was missing. The farmer was furious, and gave him a good thrashing, after which he drove him out of the farm, saying, "Don't you come home again before you find that ox." It was a dark night and the boy was very much frightened for ghosts; the church lay close at hand, and he had heard so many stories of people who walked after death. So he went out on the open fields and cried, until he came to a mound, out of which he saw a little man come and make straight for him. He was frightened in earnest now, and screamed loudly, but the little man said to him, "What are you crying for, my little boy?" "Oh, I have lost an ox, and I daren't go home before I have found it, or the man will kill me." "No, that he won't; just come with me, and it may be that I shall be able to help you." The boy followed the little man into the mound, and the latter gave him a spoonful of porridge. "Oh, that was rare porridge," said the boy. "May I not have another spoonful? I seem to grow so strong with it." "Yes, of course you may," said the little man, and gave him another spoonful. "I should like to have yet another," said the boy. "Well, take it then, but you must promise me three things: firstly, that you will go home and not bother yourself about the ox; secondly, that when you go home and the man comes out to you and threatens to strike you, you shall go to the stone that the horses are tied to, pull it up, and throw it at him; then he will let you alone; and thirdly, you must promise me never to do harm to any one with your strength." The boy promised all this to the berg-man, and went home again. His master came out and asked whether he had found the ox, and was about to strike him for not having done so, when the boy went up to the stone, pulled it out of the ground and threw it at him. The farmer retired inside as quickly as possible, and after that never tried again to strike the boy who had now acquired such strength. Next day the boy found the ox lying quietly in the churchyard.

IN a mound a few hundred ells straight east from Grönbæk farm in Haarup there lived bergfolk. The little folk were often seen going about beside the mound, and sometimes when they had an entertainment the mound stood on glowing pillars. At that time there stood a house to the south of the farm, the well of which may still be seen. The housewife there lived on a good understanding with the berg-folk, who one day presented her with a skirt, which they said she might put on every day without wearing it out, and it would even become more beautiful the longer she used it, only she must never enter a church with it. One Sunday morning, as she was sweeping out her house, she heard the bells of Linaa Kirk ringing, and thought it was high time she was setting out. She looked down at her skirt, which had now become really beautiful, and thought that she had nothing finer to go in than that. She hastily made herself ready, and went to church without thinking of the berg-folk's warning, but as she entered the porch of the church the beautiful skirt disappeared, and she was left with her plain underskirt, and had to hurry home again. After that she saw no more of the berg-folk, and regretted deeply having disobeyed them.

So far as I know, my nurse assigned the following incident to the mounds that lie beside Tuesbol. One Sunday a girl was going past them on her way to church. It was a winter's day, and there lay a thin coating of snow on the ground, but it was bright sunshine. She looked up to the south side of this mound, which faced the sun, and saw that it was all covered with dung beetles. "That is strange," thought she, "but no one will believe me when I tell it, so I will take a few of these beetles with me," and accordingly she put a few of them into one of her gloves. It happened as she expected; folk laughed at her when she told of this strange sight. "Well, you'll see them here," said she, and shook out her glove, but now they were gold pieces. They were not slow in making for the mound then, but when they got there the bergman had got all his beetles gathered in.

ON Fuur lies the Red Stone, a crag of rough-grained sandstone, from twelve to sixteen ells high, with a deep hole in it close to the ground. Here the berg-folk hold their goings-on, so that no one dares to come too near the Red Stone after sunset. Once, on a dark and rainy October evening, two boys were herding sheep on the braes round about, and on account of the bad weather sought shelter in a hole in the crag. The boldest of them wished to examine it more closely, and although advised against it by the other, tied a rope round his body, and went further in. He was away a long time, and finally, his comrade heard a faint crying from the nether depths, pulled the rope and brought it out, but with the end of it burned. The boy was never seen nor heard of again.

Another time, a man came riding past it, late in the evening. The moon was shining brightly, and by its light he saw little figures busily moving backwards and forwards. He looked closer and saw that it was the berg-imps, carrying their golden treasures out to some little hillocks to air them. The man happened to have his gun with him, and knowing that if one could manage to shoot three times over them the treasures would be his, he fired the shots. He ought now to have left the treasure lying till day had dawned, and the elves, who naturally avoid the light, had hidden themselves in the depths of the stone; but he was so greedy for the treasures that he straightway put them into a sack, and rode off as fast as he could. The little fellows set out after him, and while he was still upon the road between the banks, he was caught up by a little man with a long beard, on a horse no bigger than a cat, but headless. The little man stopped him, and asked whether they should not let their horses fight each other. "No, God forbid," said the other in a fright. Then the berg-sprite offered to let his little black dog fight the other's, or, preferably man against man; but to every proposal the man answered with his "God forbid," and hurried off home as hard as he could. When he got inside, it seemed to him as if all at once it began to storm and howl in the house, and that it was in flames in every corner. The man, who guessed the reason, took the sack and threw it out in despair. "You have quite enough yet," said a thin, little voice outside, and next morning he found a heavy silver cup, which had fallen down behind the chest of drawers, and made him a wealthy man as long as he lived.

IN Dagberg Daas there formerly lived a berg-man with his family. It happened once that a man who came riding past there took it into his head to ask the berg-woman for a little to drink. She went to get some for him, but her husband bade her take it out of the poisoned barrel. The traveller heard all this, however, and when the berg-woman handed him the cup with the drink, he threw the contents over his shoulder, and rode off with the cup in his hand, as fast as his horse could gallop. The berg-woman threw her breasts over her shoulders, and ran after him as hard as she could. (The man rode off over some ploughed land, where she had difficulty in following him, as she had to keep the line of the furrows). When he reached the spot where Karup Stream crosses the road from Viborg to Holtebro, she was so near him that she snapped a hook (hage) off the horse's shoe, and therefore the place has been called Hagebro ever since. She could not cross the running water, and so the man was saved. It was afterwards seen that some drops of the liquor had fallen on the horse's loins and taken off both hide and hair.

A LITTLE over a mile south from Slagelse, on the left side of the road between Skorping and Flakke-bjwrg, on the fields belonging to the village of Skörping, there stood some years ago a mound, now almost entirely levelled, known as Barnet. A peasant from Flakkebjærg was riding home from Slagelse one evening, and on approaching Barnet he saw the whole mound standing on four glowing pillars, while on drawing nearer he could see a crowd of little creatures dancing merrily about beneath it. The man stopped for a little to look at the sport, and while doing so one of the trolls came hopping out to him on one leg, bringing a large goblet, which he offered him to drink from. The man pretended to drink, but poured the contents over his back, and some of these falling on the horse's loins took off both hide and hair. He kept hold of the goblet and rode off, the troll following. He rode as hard as he could, but midway between Barnet and Flakke-bjærg the troll had almost caught up to him. There lived, however, an old female troll in Hö-dysse, which stands on the fields of Flakke-bjærg, and she had come to be on bad terms with the troll in Barnet. She therefore came running and called to the man, "Off the smooth and on the rough, then One-leg can never catch you, and make for the holy place!" Thereupon the man rode into the ploughed land, and right across the fields, where the troll had to run up one field and down the other, and was left a little behind. The man made straight for the church, rode close up to the churchyard wall, and quickly sprang off the horse's back to the inside of that, but the troll was then so close behind him that he had very nearly got hold of him. When he saw that the man had escaped, he hurled the horse over the wall after him, and broke all its ribs.

The goblet was afterwards given by the man to the church, where it is said to be still used as a communion-cup. When the trolls saw that One-leg did not get hold of the man, one of them hurled a huge stone at Flakkebjærg church, but it fell short and dropped into the stream at the foot of the slope. It is a stone of four or five ells in thickness and the same in height, and the impression of the troll's fingers are still plainly to be seen.

ABOUT half a Danish mile east from Lundby lies a farm, which is called Loen, where there has been a ferry across to the lime-kiln which lies opposite. From this kiln many of the people in Vendsyssel got their lime. Many travellers crossed over there, as they did not require to show a passport, which they had to do at Lundby. In consequence of this, there was a great traffic at this point in olden times. One day there came to the ferry a man with some bundles under his arm, and asked the ferrymen to take him over for payment, but he would not have all the bundles taken over at once. The ferrymen were quite willing, but were not a little surprised when they got out from land, for the boat sank so deep that the water almost came into it. In this way the man was ferried over three times with his bundles, and each time they were almost sinking, so heavy a load had they with them; yet the ferrymen could see nothing except the man, and some insignificant bundles. When they had finished the work, and been paid for their trouble, the stranger asked them if they would not like to see what they had sailed with, for it was certainly a long time since they had carried over such loads. The ferrymen were naturally eager enough, as they could not in the least understand what it was they had taken over. Then the stranger took his hat and put it on the head of the chief ferryman, who now to his great astonishment could see that it was just like a little market of bergfolk, nisses and elves. After that, each of the other ferrymen got a turn of the hat and saw the same thing. Then the stranger told them that he was a human being like themselves, but that before his baptism he had been carried off from his parents by the berg-folk, and had been with them ever since, and had now been compelled to help them to get over Limfjord. He told them also that they had come there to be taken across, since no pass was required, whereas at Lundby they could not get over without it. The ferryman asked him why they wanted to cross. The man said, "Christianity has grown too strong for them, and they can stay here no longer, so they are departing for the heathens' land."

AT Ottesund Ferry on Limfjord there is said to have lived a ferryman of the name of Reimer. He had gone to Copenhagen to get licence to ferry over the Sound. It took a long time to get the thing properly arranged, so that it was only on Christmas Eve that he got finished with the Lords of Council. As he went along the street there and wished within himself that he was at home that evening, and was greatly vexed that he was not so, he met a little old man in a grey coat, who addressed him by name, and asked "Wouldn't you like very much to get home this evening yet?" Yes, of course he would, but it was impossible. "O, no," said the little man, "if you will do me in return a service that I shall shortly have need of, which you can easily render, and for which I shall also pay you richly, you shall be home this very evening, at supper time, quite unharmed." Yes, but Reimer would first like to know what service he was to do to the stranger. "Just this," said he, "that you, and your ferrymen, one night shall carry cargoes for me from the south to the north side of the Sound, and for that you have now a licence, and legal permission." Well, there was no objection to that, Reimer said, but what means of conveyance were they to have? "We shall both mount my horse," said the little man, "you will sit behind me; the horse is only a little one, but I know how to guide it." Outside one of the city gates they both mounted the little horse, and then went through the air like a flash of lightning, without meeting anything until two hours after they had begun their journey; then Reimer heard a clink, as if two pieces of iron struck each other. "What might that be?" he asked. "O, nothing except that the beast's hind shoe touched the spire of Viborg Cathedral," said the little man. Soon after Reimer dismounted in his own courtyard, and his guide disappeared that same moment.

Pleased to be home again, Reimer forgot his promise in a few day's time; but one evening the little man came and reminded him of it. He made haste then to get all his things ready, and waited quietly till such time as the promised service should be required of him. After some time had passed, his travelling companion came to him one evening, as it was growing dark, and told him to come now, with all his men. The ferry-boats came and went the whole night, and many heavy chests and boxes were ferried over, but they saw no people except the one man. When they had finished, the bergman took a basket, opened one of the chests, and out of it filled the basket with chinking coin, gave it to Reimer, and said, "Take that for your trouble and goodwill towards one that you know not, but don't thank me for it. I suppose you would like to know what you have ferried over tonight; there you can see it," taking the cap off his own head, and putting it on Reimer's. Thereupon he saw the whole beach swarming with little dwarfs of both sexes, many thousands of them, at least. Quite terrified, Reimer snatched the cap off his head, and asked the old man, "But where are you going to with all this?" "Further north," said the bergman. "Why so?" asked Reimer again. "Because Christianity is pushing further and further up from the south," said the old man, "but will hardly get up to the Ice Sea in my time, so we are going there."

IN old days there lived a bergman, in a bank beside Mesing Mill on Hindsholm. On the same bank there lay a house, the people of which had always bad luck with their calves. Every time they tried to rear one, it took ill and died; the reason for this, however, was that the calves' stall was right above the bergman's table, and the wet dripped down into his room, and caused him great annoyance, so he always put an end to the calves. The people of the house did not know the reason of their misfortune, but one day they had a visit of a man who, when they spoke about their calves, advised them to shift their stall, and they would find that the calves would thrive well enough. They followed his advice, and from that time forward they were not only successful with their calves, but everything else went remarkably well with them, so that the farmer became a man of means. The man, however, who had given him the good advice was the bergman himself, who often took upon himself human form, and went about among folk. For a time all went well, but then Dr. Martin (Luther) came into the country, and the bergman could stay there no longer for the ringing of bells, and singing of psalms, for these kind of folk cannot bear that. So he went to Norway and lived in Dovrefell. There he often went about in the coast towns, and enjoyed himself, particularly when he met any one from Denmark. Once, in Bergen, he met with a merchant from Kerteminde, and on hearing where he came from, asked him to take a parcel to the afore-mentioned farmer, at Mesing Mill. The merchant promised to do so, and the farmer received the present, which consisted of a beautiful belt, set with gold and precious stones. The belt was for his wife, who was delighted with it, but her husband thought that it was not suitable to the rest of her dress, and to their position in life. One day they were going to a party, and the woman wanted to try on the beautiful belt, but her husband said, "There is no use in that, it only looks bad when a common woman like you, in your home-made clothes, goes about with such a belt; folks will only make a fool of you when they see you." The woman, however, thought that she would just like to see how the belt would look on her. "You will see that best," said the man, "if you go out and fasten it round the tree in front of the window there." The woman did so, and as they now stood and looked at the magnificent belt, the tree began to shake and rock — stronger and stronger, till it finally tore itself loose from the earth, and took its way northwards through the air. Both the man and his wife thanked Our Lord that she had not the belt on, for then she would have flown off to Dovrefell. How the bergman was pleased to get a big ash tree instead of the woman, there is no one here that knows.

DWARFS are short and thick; beardless, but not at all ugly. They live in large stones or in mounds at the bottom of high rocks; such dwarf-stones are to be found in many places all over the islands. The dwarfs are well-disposed, but cannot bear any quarrelling near their dwelling; at that they get angry and go away. The large dwarf-stone on Skuö is cleft in two, because two boys happened to quarrel and fight while beside it; then the dwarfs fled and split the stone. They are excellent smiths, and it was from them that men first learned to harden steel in water; before that they beat out the iron and worked it by hammering it while cold. Their tools can work by themselves. The dwarfs' power lies in the belt which they wear round their waist; if that is taken from one he is powerless, and can be compelled to make whatever one asks of him, and to give valuable things to get back the belt Under the stones in which they live, there may often be seen ashes which are swept out of their smithy.

In Goosedale stands a cliff inhabited by dwarfs, inside which they are sometimes heard working. A poor man, who had once gone north to Tongue to set up peats, saw the cliff open and the dwarfs at work inside it. He went nearer to look at them, when one of them came to the door, and said, "Inquisitive were you, for as poor as you are; but you shall have this knife;" and with that he threw out to him a knife, so sharp that it cut everything that touched its edge, however hard it might be.

IN Smeddal, on Fille-fell, where there has once been an iron-work, dwarfs had their smithy in old days, and prepared all the iron that they used, but when the church music from Thomas Kirk, which stood at the eastern end of the dale, sounded in the ears of the dwarfs, they withdrew further up into the fells, leaving their tools and their other things behind. Second-sighted folk can still see huge bars of iron, heavy anvils and tongs, lying under the cliff, but it is useless to try to remove them. Now that the church has been pulled down, it is maintained that the dwarfs again potter about in their old haunts.

THE poet Gudmund Bergthor's son was all paralysed on one side, and this was variously attributed to his mother and nurse having quarrelled violently over his cradle, or to his mother's imprecations, which took effect on him and made him a cripple all his days. Gudmund is generally reputed to have been one of the most powerful of those poets in whose verses lie magic powers (kraptaskáld,) but he did not use his gift merely to injure others, as he often saved men from the attacks of ghosts and evil spirits by means of it, and only came a little short of healing his own infirmity. A man named Andrès Jónsson, who lived near Gudmund's home at Hóls-búd, is said to have told the following to a friend in the north. "When I was about twenty years old I heard Gudmund say that now there were only two dwarfs left in Iceland, one of whom lived in some cliffs north on Lánga-ness strand, while the other was his dear neighbour, and lived in a stone not far from Hóls-búd. The latter had an ointment that could cure him of his infirmity if he could only get it, but he was afraid that it would never be his fortune to rid himself of the powerful spells under which he had innocently fallen."

One summer, on a holy day, when all or most of the others had gone to church except Gudmund and Andrès, Gudmund said to him, "Now I will make a bargain with you, friend, for I have always found you faithful and secret; you shall carry me east from the house to the big stone that stands there, which I shall point out to you." Andrès was willing, and carried him to the stone, setting him down over against it as he was directed. Gudmund seemed to him then so earnest that he could not look into his eyes. He told Andrès to go home again and not come to him before mid-evening, nor tell anyone where he was, no matter who asked after him or what they might want. Andrès promised all this and went home. Soon after mid-day a man came to Hóls-búd in great excitement, and asked for Gudmund. Andrès said he knew nothing about him, he was not at home, and had perhaps got himself taken to the church, as he often did, what did he want with him? The man answered, "My daughter at home is tormented by an evil spirit or a ghost sent to trouble her. He came upon her last night, and she is like a mad thing. I wanted to ask Gudmund's help and advice, knowing that he would not refuse me his assistance where the life and welfare of my daughter was at stake, and I call upon you in the name of all the saints to tell me the truth, for he must be told about her condition." Andrès tried to get out of it as long as he could, and made many excuses, but all to no purpose, and at last he had to agree to see what Gudmund would say. He went to the spot where he had left him, and saw that Gudmund had succeeded in charming the dwarf out of the stone, and close up to himself, with a large box of ointment in his hand. On seeing the man appear, the dwarf was so startled that he went back like lightning into the stone, which immediately closed up again. Gudmund felt this deeply, and said that he would never have the good fortune to escape from his hard lot; "I am destined," said he, "to bear my weakness to the grave, and the Lord's will be done, for now no human power can avail to bring the dwarf out again.