Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Judith Wirawan and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+----------------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Notes: |
| |
| Words surrounded by _ are italicized. |
| |
| Words encased in = are in Swedish. Due to the restriction of |
| the latin-1 font, the Swedish has been rendered without most |
| of its accent. |
| |
| A number of obvious errors have been corrected in this text. |
| For a complete list, please see the bottom of this document. |
| |
+----------------------------------------------------------------+
LITTLE ERIK
OF
SWEDEN
[Illustration: STOCKHOLM
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]
LITTLE ERIK
OF SWEDEN
BY
MADELINE BRANDEIS
_Photographic Illustrations_
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS - NEW YORK
_by arrangement with the A. Flanagan Company_
COPYRIGHT, 1938, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Those who posed for the pictures in LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN:
Carsten Grande, Jr.: who not only looks like Erik but who
as Erik plays the piano and sings just like
the hero of this tale.
Grant Christianson: who is a true Swede, proud of his
as Nils Viking ancestry.
Helen Anderson: A charming and beautiful newcomer
as Greta to America--she left Sweden just a
year ago!
Curtis Grande: A Norwegian, and very proud of it!
as Johan But Curtis was happy to be little
Swedish Johan for the book.
Hearty thanks go to all of you. And many thanks, too, to the
photographer, Carsten Grande, Sr., who directed the posing, made the
pictures, and added a large share to the attractiveness of this book.
CONTENTS
Page
Chapter I
The Gnome 9
Chapter II
The Ghost 22
Chapter III
The Plan 35
Chapter IV
The Christmas Celebration 46
Chapter V
The Spring 61
Chapter VI
The Capital 78
Chapter VII
The Wedding Date 95
Chapter VIII
The Trip 110
Chapter IX
The Göta Canal 126
Chapter X
The Return 136
Chapter XI
The Rescue 148
[Illustration: LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN]
LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN
"_As a child I sang with every step I took,
and with every jump my feet made._"
--Jenny Lind.
CHAPTER I
THE GNOME
Erik sang as he skated across the lake. The lake glistened with chill,
bluish crispness like steel.
It was as natural for Erik to sing as it was for most little boys to
breathe. Sometimes it seemed that he had the throat of a bird.
"Down the mountainside came thundering,
Fierce and wild, a giant tall."
It was Greta who had taught Erik these fairy-tale songs. Greta made them
up. She was the eighteen-year-old daughter of Fru Hansson, who owned
Hanssonborg, the large estate where Erik lived. Erik was the son of a
poor tenant farmer, but Greta had always treated him like her own little
brother. They were often together, and Erik thought her as beautiful as
any fairy-tale princess.
"Carried off the lovely princess,
To his gloomy dungeon--"
[Illustration: HANSSONBORG, WHERE ERIK LIVES
_Paul's Photos_]
Suddenly Erik stopped singing and stood still to listen. He had heard
the music of sleigh bells on the other side of the snowy pine forest.
Now came the thud of horses' hoofs and the crunch of a sleigh's runners,
as it stopped before the Hansson home.
"Christmas is coming!" smiled Erik, and struck out again in big,
vigorous strides. Christmas in Sweden means visitors and fun and lots of
food; and Erik licked his lips. His cheeks glowed with health like
ruddy, round apples. His blue eyes caught the icy sparkles from under
his feet, and he began to sing once more.
"So the brave prince slew the giant,
Carried off the princess fair."
But Erik would not have been so happy if he had known who it was that
had just arrived at Hanssonborg. He would not have sung so lustily
about wicked giants carrying off fair princesses. For something
unpleasant and very real was happening to his friend Greta.
Darkness was falling fast. In Sweden, the winter sunlight is shy. It
shows itself late in the morning, and then by early afternoon, it has
run away again.
Erik skated to shore. He took off his skates and started walking through
the woods toward home. A Swedish law says that everyone who cuts down a
tree must plant a new one; so the Swedish forests are thick and
beautiful.
Little, lighted candles glowed in the windows of Erik's cottage, which
was painted red and had white window frames. Vacation time was a good
time, he thought, as he stamped into the cozy kitchen, where a big fire
crackled.
His brother Nils sat at a rough, wooden table. Nils's arms were crossed
in front of him, and his head rested upon them. How could he study with
his head so low? Surely he was not asleep--not big Nils! Why, he was
always far too busy studying his farm books or working on the estate to
fall asleep in the daytime. What was the matter?
Erik stood in the center of the room with his legs apart and his snow
cap pushed back upon his fair, curly hair.
"Ho, Nils!" he shouted.
The older brother did not stir. Erik went over and tapped him on the
shoulder.
"I say, what's wrong?"
The young man raised his head. He had a strong, brave face, but just now
there was a shadow over it.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked.
The little boy shook his head.
"Baron Karl von Engstrom from Stockholm arrived at Hanssonborg today,"
said Nils. "He is to spend the holidays here, and they say that he will
ask Fru Hansson for Greta's hand in marriage."
[Illustration: GRETA]
Erik's mouth fell open. His eyes widened with horror. A baron from
Stockholm! Greta's hand in marriage!
The memory of a few lines from his fairy-tale book flashed over him:
"Down the mountainside came thundering,
Fierce and wild, a giant tall,
Carried off the lovely princess--"
"No, no, Nils," cried Erik. "You can't let him do it. You shan't!"
Nils smiled, but it was a bitter smile. "What are you saying?" he asked
Erik. "Do you think that I, a poor tenant farmer, could possibly prevent
the marriage of Fru Hansson's daughter?"
"Yes, yes!" screamed Erik. "You must! You shan't allow this giant--this
Baron to marry her!" He recalled the words of his song,
"Then the brave prince slew the giant,
Carried off the princess fair."
And he added, "You must march against him. That's what you must do. With
a sword and--and a shield and--"
[Illustration: "YOU MUST MARCH AGAINST HIM"]
"And if you don't watch out, you'll drop that platter," laughed Nils.
Erik put down the platter and the knife. He had snatched them up in his
anger and excitement, to use them as a shield and a sword.
Oh, but Greta must never marry anybody but Nils! Ever since childhood,
they had been the best of friends, and Erik knew that his big brother
loved Greta dearly.
However, he had never told her so, for Fru Hansson was proud and
belonged to an old, aristocratic family, while Nils was only a peasant.
Still in the fairy tales it was always poor Boots who won the princess
in the end, because he was brave and cut off the heads of giants.
At the supper table, Erik, who usually did all the talking, was
strangely quiet. He did not ask for second helpings of food--which
worried his mother. And when, soon after supper, he stole silently away
to bed, she decided that all was not well.
When she came to kiss him good night in his funny little cupboard bed
built into the wall, she found him scowling to himself and mumbling.
"What's the matter, Erik?" she asked.
"Then off came his head!" answered Erik to the ceiling.
"Off came--what?" cried the astonished mother.
"His head. The giant's," said Erik. "It happened in a fairy tale. The
prince slew him with his sword and rescued the princess and--"
"Go to sleep," said his mother, and tucked him in.
That night Erik dreamed of Baron Karl. He was a monster with long, hairy
arms; with shoulders like huge boulders and a neck as thick as a bull's.
Next morning Erik could hardly wait to see this terrible creature--this
enemy who had come to take Greta away from Nils. So he ran over to the
big house and stood outside in the courtyard. He knew that soon the
family would be coming out on their way to church. Sunday chimes already
were ringing from the near-by village.
Hanssonborg had been built over two hundred years ago. "Borg" means
"fort," and that is what it had been, like many other castles in Sweden.
But today it looked tired and weatherbeaten.
Snow was falling and the wind whistled through the big chimneys. But
Erik did not mind the cold. He was used to it. Besides, his ancestors
had roamed icy wastes. Some may even have been brave Vikings--pirates
who sailed the northern seas in high-prowed galleys. He was a sturdy
boy.
[Illustration: CHILDREN SKI TO AND FROM SCHOOL IN SWEDEN
_Paul's Photos_]
Presently the front door opened, and Fru Hansson walked out. She was
straight and tall. Next came Greta, like a lovely, slender flower, and
beside her--No, no, it could not be true!
The Baron was far from a giant. Indeed, he was not much taller than Erik
himself. Furthermore, he was thin and puny, and his pinched little face
peered out through the folds of a great coat.
Erik thought of the wicked gnomes of legend who forged iron in their
underground caverns. Some people believe these to be the iron mines of
modern Sweden.
The Baron looked like a wizened little gnome.
Erik saw him shiver and draw his warm coat closer about him.
"I shall catch cold!" he muttered, and Erik clenched his strong young
fists together.
"He's a weakling!" thought the boy miserably. "A weakling!"
Erik could imagine nothing worse.