When the church at Själevad was about to be built, parishioners could
not agree upon a location. Those who resided farthest north wished it
built at Hemling, and those dwelling to the south desired it more
convenient to them. To terminate the wrangle an agreement was arrived
at as ingenious as simple. Two logs were thrown out into Hörätt Sound,
and it was decided that if they floated out to sea the church should be
built at Voge, but if they floated in toward the Fjord of Själevad,
Hemling should be the building spot.
It happened that just then it was full high tide, when the current
changes from its usual course, and in consequence the logs floated in
favor of Hemling.
The Southerners found it hard to swallow their disappointment and at
once set their wits at work to find a way to defeat the accidental good
luck of their neighbors. In the old chapel of Hemling there was an
unusually large bell, said to have been brought from some strange land,
and regarded with great veneration. Upon this the Southerners set their
hope. One beautiful night they stole the bell and took it southward,
persuaded that their opponents would follow and build the church near
Voge. But the bell, which knew best where the church ought to stand,
provided itself with invisible wings and started to fly back to the
place from which it had been brought.
As it was winging its way homeward, an old woman standing on
Karnigberg—Hag Mountain—saw something strange floating through the air,
at which she stared earnestly, wondering what it could be, finally
recognizing the much prized bell of the parish, whereupon she cried
out:—
“Oh! See our holy church bell!”
Nothing more was needed to deprive the bell of its power of locomotion
and it plunged, like a stone, into Prest Sund—priest sound—where, every
winter, a hole in the ice marks its resting place at the bottom.