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Chap. XXIX.
TULSTRUP CHURCH.
23
The angel holds a purse of gold in his hand ; my ideas
are that the lady has given a purse of gold to build the
church, in consequence of a vow she has made. Deaf
old sacristan knows nothing, not even to what saint the
church is dedicated. We go in; at one end lies an
enormous oak chest, cross-barred over with iron bands
into a tartan pattern. We try to raise the lid; it requires
all the united efforts of aged sacristan and stronger self
to do so; and now we find two small square
compartments—same form, same pattern—fitted with massive
lock and key, expressly to contain the church plate,
and preserve it safe from robber hand ; but where is it ?
Two blue glass vessels serve now for the sacrament; on
the altar-table the very candles are wooden savealls ; a
small fat-lamp inserted in the top is used at Sabbath
Vespers. Churchwardening flourishes here, even in these
high latitudes. The ancient granite font is painted
verdant green, like a suburban garden gate. The open
seats bear date 1587.
In the churchyard I stumbled on what I have never
before met with—a grave covered over with the roughly
severed trunk of a tree, unbarked, rudely-fashioned;
a sarcophagus like that once placed over the grave of
Queen Hedvig at Søborg.
Ånd now they summon us from the høi-top, from
which we have made out another lake, Lille-Sø by
name. The horses are baited; on with our journey.
We just distinguish the winding of Juul Lake and a
little promontory jutting out into its waters, terminated
by a sepulchral mound—the Scandinavian who chose
such a site must have been a poet—when, as we climb the
hill before arriving at Linaa, concerning which place I
have a story to relate, down comes again a torrent
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