One beautiful morning in July, a long train of carts and wagons set
out from the Ingmar Farm. The Hellgumists had at last completed
their arrangements, and were now leaving for Jerusalem--the first
stage of their journey being the long drive to the railway station.
The procession, in moving toward the village, had to pass a
wretched hovel which was called Mucklemire. The people who lived
there were a disreputable lot--the kind of scum of the earth which
must have sprung into being when our Lord's eyes were turned, or
when he had been busy elsewhere.
There was a whole horde of dirty, ragged youngsters on the place,
who were in the habit of running loose all day, shrieking after
passing vehicles, and calling the occupants bad names; there was an
old crone, who usually sat by the roadside, tipsy; and there were a
husband and wife who were always quarrelling and fighting, and who
had never been known to do any honest work. No one could say
whether they begged more than they stole, or stole more than they
begged.
When the Jerusalem-farers came alongside this wretched hovel, which
was about as tumbledown as a place can become where wind and storm
have, for many years, been allowed to work havoc, they saw the old
crone standing erect and sober at the roadside, on the same spot
where she usually sat in a drunken stupor, lurching to and fro, and
babbling incoherently, and with her were four of the children. All
five were now washed and combed, and as decently dressed as was
possible for them to be.
When the persons seated in the first cart caught sight of them,
they slackened their speed and drove by very slowly; the others did
likewise, walking their horses.
All the Jerusalem-farers suddenly burst into tears, the grown-ups
crying softly, while the children broke into loud sobs and wails.
Nothing had so moved them as the sight of Beggar Lina standing at
the roadside clean and sober. Even to this day their eyes fill when
they think of her; of how on that morning she had denied herself
the drink, and had come forth sober, with the grandchildren washed
and combed, to do honour to their departure.
When they had all passed by, Beggar Lina also began to weep.
"Those people are going to Heaven to meet Jesus," she told the
children. "All those people are going to Heaven but we are left
standing by the wayside."
***
When the procession of carts and wagons had driven halfway through
the parish, it came to the long floating bridge that lies rocking
on the river.
This is a difficult bridge to cross. The first part of it is a
steep incline all the way down to the edge of the stream; then come
two rather abrupt elevations, under which boats and timber rafts
can pass; and at the other end the up grade is so heavy that both
man and beast dread to climb it.
That bridge has always been a source of annoyance. The planks keep
rotting, and have to be replaced continually. In the spring, when
the ice breaks, it has to be watched day and night to prevent its
being knocked to pieces by drifting ice floes; and when the spring
rains cause a rise in the river, large portions of the bridge are
washed away.
But the people of the parish are proud of their bridge, and glad to
have it, rickety as it is. But for that blessed bridge they would
have to use a rowboat or a ferry every time they wanted to cross
from one side of the parish to the other.
The bridge groaned and swayed as the Jerusalem-farers passed over
it, and the water came up through the cracks in the planks and
splashed the horses' legs.
They felt sad at having to leave their dear old bridge, for they
knew it was something which belonged to all of them. Houses and
farms, groves and meadows, were owned by different persons, but the
bridge was their common property.
But was there nothing else that they had in common? Had they not
the church in among the birches on the other side of the bridge?
Had they not the pretty white schoolhouse, and the parsonage?
And they had something more in common. Theirs was the beauty which
they saw from the bridge: the lovely view of the broad and mighty
river flowing peacefully on between its tree-clad banks, and all
a-sparkle in the summer light; the wide view across the valley
clear over to the blue hills. All this was theirs! It was as if
burned into their eyes. And now they would never see it again.
When the Hellgumists came to the middle of the bridge, they began
to sing one of Sankey's hymns. "We shall meet once again," they
sang, "we shall meet in that Eden above."
There was no one on the bridge to hear them. They were singing to
the blue hills of their homeland, to the silvery waters of the
river, to the waving trees. And from throats tightened by sobs and
tears came the song of farewell:
"O beautiful homeland, with thy peaceful farms with their red and
white tree-sheltered houses; with thy fertile fields and green
meadows; thy groves and orchards; thy long valley, divided by the
shining river, hear us! Pray God that we may meet again, that we
may see thee again in Paradise!"
***
When the long procession of carts and wagons had crossed the
bridge, it came to the churchyard. In the churchyard there was a
large flat gravestone that was crumbling from age. It bore neither
name nor date, but according to tradition, the bones of an ancestor
of the Ljung family rested under it.
When Ljung Björn Olafsson, who was now going to Jerusalem, and his
brother Pehr were children, they had once sat on that stone and
talked. At first they were as chummy as could be; then all at once
they got to quarrelling about something, became very much excited,
and raised their voices. What they quarrelled about they had long
since forgotten, but what they never could forget was, that while
they were quarreling the hardest, they heard several distinct and
deliberate rappings on the stone where they were seated. They broke
off instantly. Then they took each other by the hand, and stole
quietly away. Afterward, they could never see that stone without
thinking of this incident.
And now, when Ljung Björn was driving past the churchyard, who
should he see but his brother Pehr, sitting on that selfsame stone,
with his head resting on his hands. Ljung Björn reined in his
horse, and signalled to the others to wait for him. He got down
from the cart, climbed over the cemetery wall, and went and sat on
the stone beside his brother.