Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - The Midsummer Festival in Lacksand.
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that disturbed. The screaming of children,
and the noise of persons walking were heard
above the singing, and besides that, there was
an insupportable smell of garlic: almost all the
congregation had small bunches of garlic with
them, of which they ate as they sat. I could
not bear it, and went out into the churchyard:
here – as it always is in nature – it was affecting,
it was holy. The church door stood open;
the tones of the organ, and the voices of the
psalm-singers were wafted out here in the
bright sunlight, by the open lake: the many
who could not find a place in the church, stood
outside, and sang with the congregation from
the psalm-book: round about on the monuments,
which are almost all of cast-iron, there
sat mothers suckling their infants – the fountain
of life flowed over death and the grave. A
young peasant stood and read the inscription on
a grave:
"Ach hur södt al hafve lefvet,
Ach hur skjöut al kunne döe!"[1]
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