“Yes, we remember,” cried both children. “Well,” said their father, “I will tell you why they celebrated at this particular season:
“The ancient inhabitants of Sweden believed that there were many gods, but chief among them they worshipped Odin, the All-Father, Thor, the Thunderer, and Freya, the Sun-god. Odin was the god of war and was served by faithful maid-servants called the Valkyries, whose duty it was to bear the heroes slain upon the battle-field to Valhal, a beautiful region of peace. Thor wielded the thunders and lightnings, as his name implies, but Freya was the most popular of all, for upon his favor depended good harvest, fruitfulness and consequently pleasure. The people celebrated his birthday at the time of the winter solstice, for then the days began to lengthen and it seemed the appropriate time for the birthday of a Sun-god. For twelve days and nights they continued their feasting, but there was one night during the festival which was not joyful, for then the people remembered the anniversary of a great sorrow.”
“Oh, what was it?” cried Dorothy, and “Please go on,” said John as their father stopped for breath. Professor Edgecombe smiled at their interest, as he continued.
“Balder the Beautiful was beloved by gods and men because he represented goodness and made everything bright and cheerful. Some scholars connect him with Freya and say that he represented the bright summer sun. I said that everybody loved him, but that was not quite true, for he had one enemy, and, as you might imagine, that was Loki, the god of evil. One night Balder dreamed that he was to die, and when he told his dream to his mother, Frigg, she was so distressed that she made all things animate and inanimate swear that they would not injure her son. From that time on, it was the favorite pastime of the gods to throw stones and other missiles at Balder, because he seemed invulnerable and none of these things could injure him.
“But wicked old Loki knew that there was one little plant which Frigg had overlooked when she was exacting her oath and so he plotted to kill Balder. He gathered some of the mistletoe berries, that seemed too small and insignificant to do any harm, and gave them to Höor, the blind brother of Balder, who could not share in the fun on account of his infirmity. ‘Come,’ said Loki, ‘do like the rest; show honor to Balder by casting this trifle at him and I will direct your hand.’ Höor did as he was bidden and Balder fell dead, pierced through by the mistletoe.
“Now it happened that the death night of Balder fell on one of the longest nights in the year and the people believed that the darkness came because the God of Light was dead. So, on that night, they made great sacrifices and offered up prayers that they might not lose the light. Especially if the harvests had failed or the huntsmen had been unfortunate in the season just past did they offer sacrifices to Thor beneath an oak which was sacred to the Thunderer. For they thought that he was particularly angry at the people because he was so grieved at the death of Balder the Beautiful.
“Then, as the days began to grow longer and the nights to grow shorter from that very date, the people thought that their prayers had been answered and so, every year, on the anniversary of his death, they repeated the ceremony and the light never failed them.
“Of course we understand that the sun has reached his southern limit at this time of the year and is returning on his northward journey, but the old idea of making Jul-tide the Festival of Light still prevails among the Swedes, who know that now the worst of the darkness is over and that slowly but surely the sun is coming back to them.”
“Well told,” exclaimed Professor Bjerkander, who had entered in the midst of the story. “My wife has mentioned the children’s interest and I have come to see how you would like to take a sleigh-ride out to the burial-place of the old gods, on Christmas day.” The children declared that they should like it above all things and so the invitation was accepted.
“You must come early to our house, on the morning of December 24th, if you want to join in one of our national customs,” said Fru Bjerkander, when Christmas week had at last arrived. “To-morrow we celebrate ‘dipping day.’”