OF Nisses there existed in old days an immense number, as almost every farm had its own one. In later times their number has greatly decreased. They are no larger than little children, are dressed in grey, and wear on their heads a red peaked cap. For the most part they have their abode in barns and stables, where they help to look after the cattle and attend to the horses, to some of which, however, they show the same partiality as they do towards different persons. There are thus many instances of how the nisse has dragged the hay from the other horses' mangers to the one which he is fond of, so that in the morning this one stands well-fed, beside a full manger, while the others have got almost nothing. He likes to play tricks; sometimes lets loose all the cows in the byre, or scares the milk-maids, sometimes by blowing out their light, sometimes by holding back the hay so firmly that the poor girls cannot get a single straw out, and then when they are exerting all their strength, he suddenly lets go, so that they fall their whole length. This amuses the nisse mightily, and at such tricks he laughs loudly. If he likes the owner of the farm, he looks after the house's welfare, and tries to drag hay and other things from the neighbouring farms, by which there sometimes arises quarrelling and fighting between the nisses on the several farms, so that the hay and straw has been seen flying about their ears.

As they are always very serviceable to those whom they like, but full of spite and revenge when they are despised or mocked, it is not to be wondered at that people on certain occasions seek to gain their favour. On Christmas Eve and Thursday evening it is the custom in many places to set in the barn sweet porridge, cakes, ale, etc., which he likes to partake of, if they are to his taste, for he is sometimes rather particular. Scorn and contempt he cannot stand, and as he is very strong, in spite of his size, his assailant often comes off badly. A peasant who met a nisse on the highway one winter evening, and in an authoritative tone ordered him out of the way, was thrown right over the fence into the snow by the offended little man before he knew where he was. A servant girl, who made fun of him when she brought his food into the barn on Christmas Eve, had to dance with him so vigorously that she was found next morning lying breathless in the barn.

They love moonlight, and in the winter may be sometimes seen amusing themselves driving little sledges, or leaping with each other over the fences, but although they themselves are lively, yet they do not always like noise and disturbance in their neighbourhood, especially on vigils or Thursday evenings. In general, the nisse is well liked, and in many places is called "A Good Fellow."

The nisse lives in church steeples, and over church ceilings, but if any one becomes friendly to him and receives him on his farm, he is there both early and late, and helps with the work, especially in the stable; during the night, he steals grain round about, wherever he can find it, and brings it into the barn, so that prosperity always comes where he makes his abode. But although he helps those that make friends with him, he deals badly with those who send him away. In the time when Captain Tage owned Rönne-bæks-holm, and was a severe and strict master, whom all were afraid of, there lived in Brandlev, on a farm which then belonged to Rönne-bæks-holm, a farmer of the name of Ole Hansen. When all the rest had difficulty in paying their landlord what they owed, he found it quite easy, and his farm was fully stocked with everything. Nor would he stand any nonsense from Captain Tage, who also preferred to avoid any talk with "Big Hans," as he called him. This Ole Hansen had a nisse on his farm, who helped him in every way. Ole told the girl, that when she went out in the morning to clean the byre, she was not to be afraid of the little fellow who would come to help her. "You must be friendly with him," said he, "and he will do more than half the work for you." Next morning, when the girl went to the byre, the little fellow came and helped her, and she, as her master had told her, was friendly with him, so things went very well. Some time after this she was in company with some other girls, who had the same task as herself, and these complained that it was so hard work to clean the byre. "It is very easy for me," said she, "for the little fellow who comes about our farm does the most of the work for me." Next morning the other girl on the farm came and wakened her, where she lay asleep in the middle of the court-yard, asking her if she was wrong in the head that she was lying there. The girl knew well enough that it was the nisse who had carried her out, as a punishment for talking about him to the other girls; and after that she never spoke of him, until she had been some years married, and was living on a farm in Rönne-bæk. One day her husband came in and told her that the little fellow had come to him in the stables, and offered him his services, but the woman bade him not to accept them by any means — they should far rather be poor with honour, than get goods and gold dishonestly. So the man let the nisse go away, and refused his help, but after that they never had any luck with their cattle, and finally became so poor that they had to leave the farm.

The nisse, who comes to farms, wears a round blue cap sitting close to his head, and a white frieze smock. One evening when a young fellow was seeing a girl home to a house in Rönne-bæk, which lay near a farm where a nisse lived, he saw a huge load of grain coming down the road; it was bigger than the biggest load of hay, yet there was no horse to it, but the nisse was under it, and carried the lot. When this arrived at the farm, the young fellow and the girl both saw the entrance lift itself up, so that the load could get in, and then come down into its place again.

In Rönne-bæk not so long ago there was a farmer, who wished very much to have a nisse on his farm, and as he knew that one must always look for him at cross-roads, he went to these several times, but the nisse never came. At last the nisse did come on one occasion, and the man invited him home with him, but the nisse refused, saying that the farmer did not have true faith in him or in his master.

As every one was eager to have a nisse attached to his farm, the following plan was formerly made use of to catch one. The people went out into the wood and felled a tree. At the sound of its fall the nisses all came running as hard as they could to see how folk did with it, so they sat down beside them and talked with them about one thing and another. When the wedges were driven into the tree, it would often happen that a nisse's little tail would fall into the cleft, and when the wedge was driven out, the tail was fast, and nisse was a prisoner.

Down in Böge-skov (Beech-wood) lived two poor people, who, as they lay awake one night, talked of how fine it would be if a nisse would come and help them. No sooner had they said this than they heard a noise in the loft, as if some one were grinding corn. "Hallo!" said the man, "there we have him already." "Lord Jesus, man, what's that you say?" said the woman; but as soon as she named the Lord's name, they heard nisse go crash out of the loft, taking the gable along with him.

THERE is a man in Gedsby known as "The Noltosse," but his proper name is Arnold. Of late he has been greatly plagued by nisses. Some people say that he must have offended them by levelling a mound on his field, in which he is said to have found a quantity of human bones, which he sold in Nyköbing instead of burying them. Others say that he has always had an old nisse on his farm, and that they formerly were very good friends; so much so, that with the nisse's help he once, in digging up a mound, found a pot full of ashes, but which became full of pure silver coin as soon as he got it home. But all agree in this, that he had afterwards fallen out with the nisse or nisses — for some say that there was only one, others that there were several — and that he then felt the want of them. There was no one on the farm that could see them, except a girl from Möen, who was somewhat aparte, and could always see them. Some say that she had become so because the nisse had breathed upon her.

The Noltosse's father-in-law, a very old man, was one day going through the kitchen, but just as he had shut the door, and was going past the kitchen-table, a large weight, which was lying on it, rolled off and struck him on the heels. He lifted it and laid it on the table again, but as soon as he turned to go away, it rolled after him again and struck him on the heels. He took it up again, although he was surprised that it would not lie still, but he had only got a few steps away from the table when it came rolling after him just as before. He could now see that there was something uncanny about it, so he went away and let the weight lie.

Once the Noltosse sent his servants to make malt, but when they came to clean the mill, it was quite full of old slippers and wooden shoes. Thcy began to throw them aside, but as fast as they cleared them out, the slippers and shoes jumped in again, till at last they went in tears to their master, and told what had happened. He ran down in person to the mill to what was the matter, but the slippers and shoes flew about his tars, and slapped him so hard that he had to hurry away.

It happened also, one day, that he had got two sacks of rye meal from the mill, and there was to be a baking. The one sack of meal was rnade into dough, but every time they put a loaf on the peel to push it into the oven, it disappeared from amongst their hands.

No one could imagine where the loaves went to, but they did not go into the oven. So things went with the one sack of meal. The Noltosse then told the servants to bake up the other sack, which was standing in the brew-house, for they could not do without bread. When they went for the meal, however, it was not to be found. It was found at last, though; it was scattered all over the courtyard, and the sack it had been in was thrown into a corner. The nisses there had also a habit of mixing up all the grain in the barn-loft, so that he could not get it separated again.

One day, when he and all his folk were sitting at table, the porridge suddenly disappeared, and in its place the table was covered with old slippers and shoes, which danced about and slapped their ears. No one could see how it came about, except the girl from Möen; she said, "Just look, the nisses are eating all our porridge!" The same girl also saw them one day in the stable; they were neat little fellows, with red caps on their heads. Two of them were springing about among the straw, and three of them danced in the hay-basket. "Just come and see how neat they are!" she called to the other folk, but these could not see them.

Once the Noltosse tried to get rid of the nisses, and gave "Wise Christian" a bank-note for that end, but the latter made the mistake of scattering flax-seed round the farm before the nisses had left it. As these could not cross the flax-seed, they had to stay on the farm, and then they became real wicked. Finally, they say, he got the Mormons to exorcise them, and they removed to a neighbouring farm.

A farmer in Dybböl stood on a very friendly footing with some little nisses, who lived in the neighbourhood, and these continually brought so much to the farm that there was great wealth there. When the man died, a little nisse came one day to his son, and asked whether he would stand in the same relation to them as his father had done. The son would not answer this, unless the nisse could tell him where his father was. The nisse could easily do that, for he was with them. "No," said the son, "in that case I will have nothing to do with you." The nisse replied that if he would not deal with them, he must resign himself to their taking away again all that they had brought in his father's life-time. The son begged that this should not happen all at once, but little by little, and the nisse promised this for his father's sake. After that time there came great poverty on the farm and it has been there ever since.

ON a farm there lived a little nisse, but the proprietor was not very good to him, for he never gave him porridge with butter in it on Christmas Eve, or other Saints' eves. Neither did the owner have any luck; everything went back with him, and he had finally to sell the farm, and buy a little place in the neighbourhood. But his man, who had served on the farm for several years, longed very much for the little nisse, with whom he had always had a chat every day; so even now, after they had left the farm, he went over as soon as he found time, to have a talk with his little friend. One day when he came over, the nisse asked him how his master was getting on. "Pretty poorly," said the man, "he will not be successful there either." "Then," said the nisse, "you must tell him to come over here, and ask the person who bought the farm from him, whether he may take away the old bushel which stands at the back of the chimney, as he forgot to take it with him when he removed." "Oh, but we didn't forget it," said the man, "we didn't want to take it with us." "Yes, but that's what you must say, all the same," said the nisse. The man went home and told his master what the nisse had said to him, so the farmer went over to the new owner of the farm, and asked for the old bushel which stood at the back of the chimney, as he had forgot it. "Yes, that you may have with pleasure," said the other; "we don't use it at any rate, we've got a new one." When the man got home with his bushel, it went in pieces in his hands, but at the same time a whole lot of money fell out on the floor. There had been a double bottom in the bushel, between which the money had lain. The man was greatly delighted, for there was so much of it that he could buy his old farm back again, and so he did. After that time he never forgot to put down rice-porridge, with butter in it, for the nisse, and even sprinkled a good layer of cinnamon and sugar over it, and ever after all went well with him.

OUT in Vester-egn lies Skop-hus, which had many acres of land, but hardly any of them were cultivated. One time the farmer had been in Viborg, and as he came home again he saw a nisse sitting on his garden wall. He took him in with him, and gave him both food and drink, so that he took a fancy to stay there always. From that time forward several acres of land were taken in from the heath every year, without anyone knowing exactly how it happened, and in several years time there were fertile corn-fields where formerly only heather had grown. The man's wife, however, was not at all good to the nisse, although it was he who had helped them to become well-to-do people. One day when her husband was at Viborg, she ordered nisse to procure a thousand dollars for each of her children, otherwise she would take him and throw him into the fire. He long refused, but finally there was a rumbling and a tumbling, and all the money lay on the kitchen-floor. The woman gathered it up, put it in a bag, and buried it in the garden. A little later the man came back from Viborg, and found nisse sitting on the garden wall where he had first seen him. He asked him why he was sitting there, and invited him in to get a drop from the keg, which he had just got filled, but nisse answered that he was going back to his own folks again, and told how he had been treated by the wife. "You have been kind to me," he added, "and I will say farewell and thanks to you. Here are some little stones for you, which I will give you as a parting gift." With that nisse was gone, and from that time things began to go back with the folks in Skop-hus. The land fell back into heath again, and the children died, one after another. After they were all dead, and the riches completely gone, the woman went out to the garden to dig up the money that she had hid there. She found it too, but when she touched it, it turned to stones. At this she was so angry and vexed, that she fell down dead on the spot. The man was now left alone, and one day he thought he would have a look at the little stones which the nisse had given him at parting, and when he opened the drawer and touched them, they turned into gold coins.

IN Toftegaard there is said to have been in former days a "Gaardbuk," or "Little Nils," who brought luck to the house, and they never neglected to give him every evening, in the stable, a bowl of porridge with butter in it. One evening the girl had put the butter pretty deep into the porridge, and the "Gaardbuk," who thought she had forgot it, was so angry that he left it untouched, and went and wrung the neck of a red cow which stood in the byre. Getting hungry, however, he finally set to work on the porridge, when he found the butter, and regretted what he had done. He then took the dead cow on his shoulders and carried it over Rybrook to a byre on Jets-mark, and took in its place another red cow, which resembled the dead cow to a hair, and brought it to the byre in Toftegaard.

A PEASANT had on his farm a nisse, who did much service in his stumpy coat and red cap. When the man came home from Skanderborg or Horsens in the evening, he only needed to throw the reins from him and hurry in to the fireside. Nisse took out the horses, led them into the stable, fed them and watered them, all with the greatest care. Now, there came a severe winter, and the peasant's wife was sorry for the nisse, so she got good thick clothing made for him — among other things, a long-skirted coat, instead of the old stumpy jacket. One day the peasant went to market, came home late, threw the reins from him as usual, and went off to bed. He heard, indeed, the words, "O, the poor horses! O, my good new coat!" but never thought it meant anything. Next morning he found his horses lying dead before the cart, frozen to death, for nisse had been afraid of soiling his coat.

THE slopes of Fjelkinge-bank are divided between the different proprietors in the village, and of one of these lots — a field which, so far as I remember, is called Ormelykke-krog — there is found the story that in old times, when the corn on it was ripe for harvest, the peasant who owned it brought a large dish of boiled rice and a barrel of ale out to the field, a little before sunset, and after that went quietly home again. When he came back next morning, the rice was eaten and the ale was drunk, but the field was very nicely harvested, and the corn bound in sheaves and set up in stooks. This had gone on for many years, without anyone knowing exactly who the harvesters were, or daring to find out. Then the farm was taken over by the old man's son and his wife, and the latter had no peace, until she found out whether it was human beings who did the harvest, or good nisses, as was universally asserted and believed. So one year, after the rice and the ale had been taken out to the field as usual, she betook herself thither in all secrecy, and hid herself behind a stone. Towards midnight she saw three mannikins, wearing grey blouses and red caps, coming into the field. One of them carried a sickle, and began to cut the corn rapidly. Another was provided with a rake, and gathered the corn into sheaves, after which the third bound them and set them up in stooks. The work went on quickly, and in a very short time the whole field was harvested, after which all the three began to eat the rice and drink the ale, which also was finished very quickly, so that they soon had demolished the lot. Then the woman rose up, and said to the little fellows, "Well, you are the smartest harvesters I have ever seen, and many thanks for your trouble;" but at the same moment all the three disappeared, and from that day forward the peasant has waited in vain to get his field harvested by the nisses.

ON a farm in Dokke-dal, in the parish of Mov, there lived some years ago a man who was commonly called Peder Skelund. On this farm lived a nisse. The farmer had a little pony, which the nisse liked very much to ride upon.

One time, towards spring, when the fodder in the barn was like to go done, the ploughman one day said to the nisse, that as there was so little to feed the horse with, he would have to give up his usual ride. "Don't you trouble yourself about that," said the nisse, "I shall hit upon a plan." In the evening he asked the man to go with him, and after having provided themselves with a good long rope, they betook themselves over Vild-mose to South Kongerslev. In this village there lived a man, who had his whole barn-floor covered with unthreshed oats. Nisse took the half of this, and tied it up in the rope, after which the two set out for home again. When they had got down on Vild-mose, the man began to get tired, and asked the nisse whether they should not rest a bit. "Rest?" said the nisse, "what's that?" "Oh, to lay down your bundle on the ground and sit down on it," said the man. They did as he proposed, and after the nisse had seated himself, he found it so comfortable that he exclaimed, "If I had known that a rest was such a fine thing, I would have taken the whole floor-ful."

IN Dalum, two miles from Odense, there stands an old bridge called Nisse-böved bridge, which only comes in sight when the water is very low. It owes its name to two nisses, who lived in two farms, lying on different sides of the river, and stole from each other in turn.

The ploughman on one of the farms was in the barn one day, when he heard one of the nisses puffing and blowing, as he dragged at the hay in the loft. The man kept quite still, and the nisse, who did not know he was being watched, at last exclaimed, half aloud, "O, fie, how I sweat! "Ay, fie, how you steal!" shouted the man, and laughed. Soon after this, as he was standing in the peat-moss belonging to the farm, he saw the two nisses come along, each with a bundle of hay on his back. They met right in the middle of the bridge, and as they could not pass each other for the hay, and neither would give way to the other, they finally came to blows. As the hay hindered them from getting a proper hold of each other, they threw it into the river, and each tried to throw his opponent the same way, but in this they were unsuccessful, and parted to all appearance good friends.

In the evening the same man had been away from the farm, and it was late when he came home, so he had a lantern with him. As he came to the farm gate, he saw the two nisses sitting there, one on each post. As he tried to pass them, the one shouted to him "Light high!" He held up the lantern, but at the same moment got a good box in the ear from the other nisse, who shouted, "Light low!" He lowered the lantern, and again from the opposite side received as sound a slap with the order to "Light high!" And this went on till it struck him to put out the light. This was, no doubt, the nisses' revenge for his having been eye-witness to their fight on the bridge, and for having ventured to call them thieves.

Another ploughman came past two nisses who were fighting, one evening, and instead of helping the one belonging to his own farm, he ran home as fast as he could; but the nisse had seen him, and was mad that he had not helped him, and determined to revenge himself. Next night, after the man had gone to bed, the nisse came and lifted him, and carried him out into the farmyard, with the words, "Now you I'll maul till cock shall call;" and threw him about on the dung-heap, until there was not a spot on it where he had not lain. Then said the nisse, "Well, if there's no more land, there's water at hand," and gave him a kick which sent him flying into the pool beside the dung-hill.

IN Salling there are two large manors, one called Böl and the other Asgaard. On each of these there was a nisse, and they were distinguished as the Böl nisse and the Asgaard nisse. When fodder was scarce, these nisses went and fetched it from the smaller farms round about, so long as there was any to be got, and when that failed they stole from each other. This went on for a long time, but finally each of the nisses began to notice that just as much rye as he took, so much barley was he short of, and neither of them could understand how this came about, until one night when each met the other with a heavy burden. Then the matter became clear to them, and in their anger they threw down the grain, and began to fight in earnest. This ended in the Böl nisse getting three of his ribs broken, and his back well thrashed to the bargain, after which he had also to go home empty-handed, as the Asgaard nisse took the whole lot off with him, and that was the worst of it all. When the Böl nisse came home, he went in to the stableman and told how badly he had fared, finishing up by saying that if the man wanted his horses to be fat, and the fodder to be sufficient, he must help him in this quarrel. The stableman promised to do what he could. "You must take the dung-fork here then," said the nisse, "and when you see a fiery wheel with twelve spokes come in at the barn-door, and another wheel with only eight spokes come against it, then strike as hard as you can at the one with the twelve spokes, for the one with the eight in it is me." When evening came, the man took the fork and went out to the barn. Towards midnight a fiery, red-hot wheel came rolling into the courtyard, and another came out at the barn-door to meet it. The two met in the court, and dashed against each other with such force that two spokes flew out of the wheel that had the eight. When the man saw this, he used the fork as best he could, nor was it long before he knocked a couple of spokes out of the other one. He kept hammering away at it then, with the little wheel helping him, until only four spokes were left in the big one. Then the two wheels ran against each other so hard that the big one sprang backwards high into the air, and flew over the top of the barn, and was seen no more. After this there was plenty of fodder at Böl, while they were always short of it at Asgaard, and, as the man said, could not be any better until they got their wheel patched up again.

ON the farm of Nörgaard, in the parish of Brovst, the nisses were frequent visitors. They were little creatures, with fiery red hair, somewhat malicious, but otherwise very good-natured. Sometimes, however, they could be real wicked; for instance, they occasionally sat on the roof and combed their hair above the pots that sat on the fire, but this was nothing compared with all the luck and good fortune they brought to the house. The woman in the house had a son who was changed by the fairies before he was baptized. The changeling was very ugly, but the woman tended him just as carefully as if he had been her own. The changeling's mother often visited her son, and promised the woman in the house that things should go well with her children because she tended him so well. The son who had been carried off, also came home often to see his mother. He would go into their sitting-room, where he examined everything, but never spoke a word, and then returned to Brovsthöi, where the nisses had their proper home. The woman once said to another one, that she didn't think the nisses had long time to live. "How so?" said she. "Well, I'll tell you," said the other; "folk are so wise now that they make a cross upon everything, and so the nisses can't thrive." After that the nisses did indeed disappear little by little.

ON Ox-holm there was once a Gaardbuk, and it was the custom on that farm that every girl had her cow to look after. One day the Gaardbuk came running to the window, and shouted to one of the girls: "Hurry out as quick as you can, your cow has got a calf." Then he hastened into the byre, and put on the shape of a newborn calf, but when the girl came out he again assumed his own shape, and began to laugh. The girl was annoyed that he had made a fool of her, and gave him a good blow on the back of the neck with a fork. Then she went in and told how he had fooled her. "But I gave him a good whack, too," she added. "That's a lie," shouted the Gaardbuk, "for you gave me three." "I never did," said the girl; "I only gave you one." "But you did, though," said he, "for there were three prongs on the fork." There was no more of it just then, and the girl went quietly to bed, but in the morning when she awoke, she was lying on a plank across the ridge of the barn.

ON an estate there was once an old cattle-man, who looked after the cows. One evening a cow was expected to calve, and the cattle-man was to keep awake, to give a look to it now and again. When he went out the cow had calved, and "Boo," said the calf. "That's rare," thought the old man, and picked up the calf carefully to take it to the calf-stall, but to his great astonishment the calf began to laugh at him, for it was the nisse who had turned himself into a calf to have some sport out of the old man. "I'll pay you back for that," said the latter, and nisse said, "All right." Next day passed and the evening came, and the man had again to watch the cow — "Yes, quite correct, the cow has calved now; it isn't the nisse this time," and with that he laid hold of it and put it in the calf-stall. "Ha, ha, ha," laughed the nisse, "I've completely cheated you twice now." The old man thought, "I'll see, then, whether I can't trick you the third time, my friend." The third evening things happened the same way. When the old man came out the cow had calved, and the cattle-man took the calf and threw it out as far as he could into the midden-hole. "I'll show you who'll be fooled the third time," said the old man, but with that the nisse, who was not far away, began to laugh and clap his hands, for it was the calf this time. The old man now saw that he was fooled again, and gave up trying to revenge himself on the nisse.

A MAN in Nörre Ökse had two nisses on his farm, and had also two pretty, bluish-grey horses. One evening the nisses had heard the man say that he would go to market on the following morning and get the horses sold. This they could not bear, and when the farmer got up in the morning the horses were gone, and were nowhere to be found, so they were not taken to market that day. Finally the man found his horses. The nisses had got them dragged up into the loft above the cowhouse, and there they were standing safe and sound.

IT happened at a parsonage that a new man came at term-time, and the priest went round with him to show him the place. In the middle of the stable there was an empty stall, while the horse that should have stood in it was standing behind the others. The man said it was strange to have it standing there; it ought to be in line with the others when there was a stall for it. "No horse can stand tied in that stall," said the priest. The man thought he would try that. "No, you must not," said the priest; "it has been tried often enough, but the horse continues to work away till it is covered with foam, if it cannot get loose." The man said no more about it just then, but some time afterwards he tied it up there, and then lay down on the floor above, to watch through a hole he had made in it. After he had lain there for a little, there came a white figure up into the stall and placed its hands on the horse's forehead, which immediately broke loose. The ghost now lifted a stone in the stall, while the man lay and watched it. There was, however, a nisse on the farm, who came creeping up just at this moment, and said, "What is it you are lying there and looking at?"

"Hush, be quiet!" said the man; but nisse was inquisitive, and went creeping over to the hole in the loft to look down, but with that the man caught him by the legs and threw him down on top of the ghost. There arose a fearful disturbance then, and the man was so frightened that he slipped out, got to his room, and locked his door. Well on in the night the fight came to an end, and then nisse came to get at the man. He called on him in the name of many people, and tried all possible means to get in; but the man had got such a fright that he dared not open the door, and next day told the priest what had happened. "That is a bad business," said he, "and you must take care never to let him in, for he will have his revenge. He will even come and call on you in my name, but you must admit no one, and in the end he will get tired of it and go his way." This, indeed, was how it ended at last. The place in the stall was then examined and a quantity of money found there, and after that was lifted, the horse could always stand in the stall.

IN Tylstrup lies a farm which has a nisse on it. Two ploughmen served there, one of whom was very fond of the nisse, while the other found his greatest delight in annoying him. Once he took away his porridge from him. "You'll pay for that," said the nisse, and when the man woke next morning, he found that the nisse had placed a harrow over the ridge of the barn, and then laid him upon the sharp spikes. "You'll pay for that yet," thought the man. Some time passed, and the other man asked the nisse to sew something for him, for he was a tailor to trade. It was a bright moonlight night, so the nisse took needle and thread, seated himself on top of the haystack, and began to sew. Just as he was hard at work, there came a shadow over the moon, at which the little fellow became impatient, and cried, "Light! light high!" The man who teased him was, however, standing down below with a flail in his hand, and when he heard the shout, he brought this over the nisse's legs. Nisse thought it was Our Lord who thus punished him for his imperious shout, and said very humbly, "Light high, light low; light just as you please, Lord!"

THERE was a man who was greatly embarrassed with a nisse that he had. He had been keeping his money in a bushel, which sat up in the loft, and the nisse went and stole out of it. Finally, the man decided to remove from that house, thinking that there was no other way of getting quit of the nisse. He accordingly got that place sold, and bought another, to which he proceeded to remove his belongings. As he walked along beside the loaded cart, the nisse stuck his head out of an empty ale-barrel, the bung-hole of which was turned to that side, and shouted down to the man, "It's fine weather we're removing in!" When the man discovered where the voice came from, he was both frightened and angry, for he had thought he was rid of him now, so he took the barrel and pitched it into a dam beside the road. When he had got settled down in his new abode, and went up to the loft one day to turn over his corn, he also took a look into the bushel, and found that there was just as much money in it as there had previously been, so that the nisse had stolen none of it after all. But as he had been unjustly treated, the man never saw him again.

IN Dean Hammer's time there were nisses in Kolby parsonage. The narrator often saw one sitting and grinning under the eaves, especially when a cow calved, or anything of that kind was going on. He was always on a friendly footing with the nisse, who took the charge of foddering the horses which the man used, so that he did not require to keep awake to see to them. Another man, who also served at the parsonage, was a person that the nisse could not bear, and always threw him head-first out of the loft when he went up into it in the morning to throw down the corn; the sheaves were then thrown down on top of him. When Dean Hammer removed to Besser, the nisse removed also, going in a barrel to Tafte-gaard, with a man called Knud Lille-tyv (little thief). Thereafter he drove about with this man and helped him to steal, until, with the nisse's help, Knud piled up a large fortune. The last nisse on Samsö was on Tafte-gaard. A number of years ago, in 1854, the said nisse left the island and went to Norway, where nisses are still to be found. He went off with the declaration: "We can't stay here for your crisses and crosses, and the big dingdong in Tranbjærg Church.

IN Besser Church there lives a nisse, who has his bed in a bundle of rags in the church loft, but on Sundays, and other times when the bell is rung, he hides himself in a mound a little way off. One evening when the bell-ringer came to ring the curfew the nisse played him a little trick. When he started to pull the bell, not a sound did it give out, and he then discovered that a large bundle of rags was tied to the tongue of it. As he stood and wondered at this, he saw looking over the bell a little grinning face with a red peaked cap above it.

THERE had been a heavy storm in the North Sea, and many ships had been on the point of sinking. When the weather had improved, two ships met out there, and came so near to each other that those on board could call out and enquire where the others came from, and so forth. At the same moment they heard two nisses shouting to each other from the top of the mast on either ship, asking how they had fared in the storm. The one said, "I have had enough to do to hold the fore-stay, otherwise the mast would have fallen." When the crew looked up to see where the voice came from, the nisse let go the stay, which fell to the deck, and then he began to laugh with all his might. The crew had now something else to do than look for him, as the mast nearly fell overboard, and while they were busy putting it to rights again the nisse saw his chance to creep down into the hold, where they could not find him.

Old Tyge Hansen in Lundii sailed with a yacht for Per Rönbjærg in Skive. He had a Gaardbo-nisse on board, and they could tell by him when they were to have storm, or head-wind, or the like; at such times he was very busy with one thing or another, went creeping about, and tried to get everything put right. At other times he had his abode in the fore-castle. One time Tyge Hansen was sailing from Skive to Aalborg, and had favourable weather to sail north in; but all the same the yacht would not work with them; they could make no progress with it, and so had to sail into Baads-gaard Vig, instead of keeping to the west of Lundö. Next day they had such a storm from the north-west that it was clear that their anchors and tackling could not have held, had the ship been out at sea. The nisse knew this, and therefore kept them back in this way. They had him always on board, but could not see him except by night. One time Tyge Hansen himself was sitting at the helm, when the nisse came and told him that Per Rizinbjærg's wife was dead. Tyge asked him at what hour she died, and he answered, "Two o'clock." This was afterwards found to be perfectly correct.

A PEASANT family in Skaane were in the habit of placing food every day on the stove for the Tomtes, who are there called Nisses. This came to the ears of the parish priest, who searched the house, and tried, meanwhile, to convince the people that such nisses did not exist. "How, then, should the food disappear every night?" asked the good-wife. "O," said the priest, "I can tell you that. Satan takes all the food and collects it in a kettle in hell, and in that kettle he thinks to boil your souls to all eternity." From that day no more food was set out for the nisses.

When building or joiner's work is going on, it is said that the tomtes have been seen, while the workmen were at dinner, going about on the erections, and working with little axes. When a tree is felled in the forest, it is said, "The man indeed holds the axe, but the tomte fells the tree." When the horses in a stable are well attended to and in good condition, the saying is, "The man lays the fodder in the manger, but it is the tomte that makes the horse fat"

THE Goa-nisse is not a good being like the little Vättar. Whoever wishes to have to do with one, must engage him on Christmas Eve. For every year he serves, he must get a joint of his master's body; first the little finger, and so on till the whole person has become his property.

Many years ago there was a young priest up in the forest districts who had a Goa-nisse, and that although his father was dean in a rich pastorate down on the plains. The dean came at last to hear of the tales that were common about his son, and decided to visit him in person on Christmas Eve and see how the case actually stood. The son was a little put out when his father entered the house that evening, but the dean merely asked to be shown his household when they sat down at table. The son could not well refuse this request, and when the dean had entered the servants' hall, he saw at once a little fellow, with a red, peaked cap, sitting at the bottom of the table. He asked the son what kind of a person this was, and received the answer that it was one who worked for day's wages. The dean then turned to nisse himself, and asked if this was true; the latter dared not impose on the dean, and answered "No." The son then said that it was a servant who had yearly pay, and the dean again asked nisse if this was true. "Yes," said he, "I get a bowl of porridge and milk every evening." The dean wanted to know what he did with this, seeing that he was a creature who did not resemble human beings in the matter of food and drink. The nisse then pointed him to a stone out in the yard, and said that all the porridge and milk lay under that. The dean then wanted to know how he, who was so little, could drag so much grain and other articles to the farm. The nisse then made himself so long that he had to stand in the room doubled up four times.

"Well," said the dean, "since you have shown me how long you can become, I command you now to show me how little you can be, for out here you must go." With that he took an awl, and bored a hole in the lead of the window, whereupon the nisse became as slender as a thread, and crept out at the hole lamenting. From that time forth he dragged away from the young priest all that he had previously dragged thither, and more than that.

A WOMAN near Landskrona was satisfied that vättar lived in her house, although her father had been cornmonly accused of acquiring his wealth by the assistance of a nisse. It was said that her mother gave the Goanisse a new jacket and peaked cap every year, and a bowl of porridge and milk every Christmas Eve, but this must have been pure slander, for her mother was a priest's daughter, and a pious woman like her daughter. In that house, among the nine children and the numerous servants, vättar could easily thrive, for order and discipline reigned there. One night the woman awoke, and missed her little child which she had lying on her arm. She kindled a light, and began to search for the little one, which she found lying asleep under the bed, with its mother's shoe for a pillow. It was so red and warm and full that the woman easily saw that a little vätte-mother had given it suck.

On that farm they were also very careful, as all decent folks are, that the vättar should thrive there. No boiling water was allowed to be poured into the drain, for through that the vättar come out and in to a house. If at any time, such as at washings and cattle-killings, it was necessary to pour out hot water, no one would venture to do so before the vättar had first been warned in the usual words, "Watch yourselves, good vättar, and not get scalded."

In other places, where people had been careless with hot water, they have seen the vättar (who come up and play with the little children, when these are alone) make their appearance with their heads tied up and badly scalded. It often happened in old days that the vättar came up through the floor by night, and held parties in the room while the inmates were asleep. If any one wakened then, it was necessary to keep perfectly quiet and still, otherwise the party broke up and the vättar disappeared. Still worse was it if one happened to laugh at the little ones, who, in all respects, behaved like human beings. At their parties they burned the so-called "vätt-lights," which look like little petrified wax-candles, and are often found among the stones and pebbles on the beach.

No one has ever heard of the vättar and the Goa-nisse living in the same house, nor is this so remarkable either, for the vättar are good little beings who only watch over the peace and friendship of the house in which they live, while the nisse draws to it earthly possessions, and that too from the property of other men. Such riches may well last for a time, but there goes with them no real luck for the children and grandchildren.

VÆTTRAR are beautiful, little, good spirits who live in houses beside good people. These enjoy good-luck, and receive assistance from them all their life-time, so that everything goes well in that house where the vættrar are. Happy is he who is their friend, for neither trolls nor elves (huldufolk), nor any living thing under or on the earth, can injure him.

Marjun in Ördavík, on the east side of Suderö, who came there from Kollafirth, on the east side of Strömö, is said to have been one of the most powerful witches ever known in the islands. She was an extremely clever and capable woman in every respect, and was enormously rich, having abundance of cattle and sheep, and all kinds of wealth, and no wonder either, — the vættrar lived with her. She had on her farm a witless boy, whom she employed in summer to drive the sheep away when they came in about the home fields, and this was all that the natural was fit for. During Marjun's life-time Turkish pirates came from the south to plunder the Færöes. They landed also on Sudertö at Hvalbö, and after plundering and laying waste the northern part of the island, proceeded towards the south of it for the same purpose. Marjun saw them coming south over the ridge and bearing down upon Ördavík, but she was not frightened like those who fled before them to the hills, and hid themselves in caves and holes, and hung black cloth in front of them. No, Marjun sent out the witless boy with the watch-dog, and told him to chase these men off the farm. He had no thought of any mischief, poor fellow, and so went without fear and with a light heart to do what his mistress told him, just as he always did. He went running towards the pirates with his little dog, as if they were nothing but a few scared sheep, which would run away whenever he came near them. Meanwhile the wise woman stood beside the wall of the house, and pointed her hand at the Turks. When these now saw a little wretch of a boy coming so boldly to meet them with a little dog, and an old woman standing so confidently under the wall, they were astonished, and thought to themselves that these two could not be so weak as their numbers might imply, but had something in secret to defend themselves with, which might cost them dear. So it is said that they were afraid to go further south on the island, and turned straight back to Hvalbb. From there they took away with them two girls who were related to Marjun, on hearing which she said that before her blood was cold (i.e., before the seventh generation from her was dead), this would be avenged, and the Turkish people come under the rule of a king from another country.

Marjun in Ördavik had good luck with her in everything she undertook, and all went well with her; all this came from the fact that the good vættrar lived in her big byre. Nor did she forget to set down a pail of milk for them every time the dairy-maids milked the cows. The vættrar rewarded her for her kindness, and she had never any want of milk so long as they lived there; and no sickness ever came upon cattle or sheep while they watched over them. It was not necessary for the maids to stay overnight in the byre when a cow was expected to calve, for if she calved during the night with no one beside her, the calf was not lying on the ground when the maid went in next morning, but stood in the stall, tied with a silk band under the cow's belly so that she could lick it. The girl who came out to see to the cows had then to take the silk band off the calf immediately, and lay it on the crossbeam, and after that the vættrar took it back again. So Marjun was kind to the vættrar who did her so much good, and often earnestly exhorted her son to bear in mind, when he became farmer there after her, that it was well to lodge the vættrar, and he must always give them house-room; and if he did away with, and pulled down the big byre, it would bring hurt on himself and others. Marjun died, and her son, who was now farmer in Ördavík, heedless of his mother's warnings, tore down the byre. Then the vættrar left, wishing evil on him and all his kin in Ördavík, — a sudden death they should all meet. The same day that this happened, a man was going north the island from Vág, and when he came to Manna-skard, he met a tiny little woman coming down the narrow pass, leading two little children, one in each hand, and carrying a third on her back. As he passed them he heard her say, "Avenged shall it be, that we had to leave;" and avenged it was, for one evening, when the three brothers were out line-fishing south along the coast, they struck the reef under Tjaldar-víks-hólm, the boat capsized, and every one on board was lost. Marjun also had three daughters, who were at Ördavík; they died soon after of a violent plague which went over the district, and all this was revenge on the part of the vættrar who had to leave the place.