They saw him no more; but on his tomb the Swedish people, forgetting
all else, have written that he was the "Father of his Country."
ABSALON, WARRIOR BISHOP OF THE NORTH
A welcome change awaits the traveller who, having shaken off the
chill of the German Dreadnaughts at Kiel, crosses the Baltic to the
Danish Islands--a change from the dread portents of war to smiling
peace. There can be nothing more pastoral and restful than the
Seeland landscape as framed in a car window; yet he misses its chief
charm whom its folk-lore escapes--the countless legends that cling
to field and forest from days long gone. The guide-book gives scarce
a hint of them; but turn from its page and they meet you at every
step, hail you from every homestead, every copse. Nor is their story
always of peace. Here was Knud Lavard slain by his envious kinsman
for the crown, and a miraculous spring gushed forth where he fell.
Of the church they built for the pilgrims who sought it from afar
they will show you the site, but the spring dried up with the simple
old faith. Yonder, under the roof of Ringsted church, lie Denmark's
greatest dead. Not half an hour from the ferry landing at Korsoer,
your train labors past a hill crowned by a venerable cross, Holy
Anders' Hill.
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