IN BEAUTIFUL DELECARLIA 



By Lillian Gore 



WHEN the word Dalarne is 

 spoken in a Swede's hearing 

 it awakens memories of the 

 struggles of the daring Gustave Ericson, 

 who as the founder of the Wasa line 

 threw off the hated Danish yoke ; it 

 brings vividly before him the boldness 

 of the loyal people of this region in rescu- 

 ing the life of this patriot prince when 

 to harbor him was a crime, and his heart 

 glows with that patriotism on which the 

 Dalecarlians first put the stamp of high- 

 est approval. 



But it is not alone the romantic history 

 of this beautiful province that charms 

 the native Swede and fascinates the oc- 

 casional tourist. It is also the varied 

 scenery — mountain and dale, lake and 

 river — the good people whose honest 

 faces attract attention and command re- 

 spect, and the primitive vocations and 

 occupations of the contented folk that 

 make the dale land of Sweden the very 

 focal point of interest to all. 



The climate is very much like that of 

 Stockholm, and yet in passing out from 

 the city's walls and exchanging the stolid 

 houses and sombre streets for the free 

 air of Dalarne, its limpid lakes, tumbling 

 torrents, wooded heights, lofty moun- 

 tains, deep recesses, one feels as though 

 a month's journey had been taken and 

 that the wheel of time had made count- 

 less backward turns. In these remote 

 settlements, the home of quaint super- 

 stition and harmless witchcraft, there 

 silently grew up a hardy race, made earn- 

 est by their struggle for existence and 

 patriotic by the wooing nature demands 

 before she yields enough to satisfy their 

 simple wants. 



Their temperate and industrious lives 

 enable them to pass patiently through 

 the long winters, and when spring comes 

 all hands, young and old, male and fe- 

 male, endeavor to make amends for the 

 period of enforced idleness. Fortunately 

 the long days help in this worthy en- 



deavor. The children contribute their 

 share by watching the cows, beginning 

 as soon as they are able to toddle; when 

 younger they rest in a sling on the 

 mother's back as she goes to and from 

 her work, knitting as she walks, or the 

 sling, hung to a lower limb of a tree, is 

 rocked by the gentle wind and the time 

 quickly passes under the mother's watch- 

 ful eye. 



HOW SUNDAY IS SPENT 



One's first impression of Dalecarlia is 

 gathered at Mora Strand. Here the red 

 houses cluster about the grand old church 

 like chickens near the protecting mother- 

 hen. No one can tell you the age of this 

 edifice, though all know that its high 

 steeple was added in 1673. For many 

 years it lacked an organ, to the sorrow 

 of the faithful, for no other church in 

 the dale was in equal straits. Charles XV 

 offered to make good this deficiency, but 

 when he had to acknowledge that he 

 could not furnish a performer who would 

 last forever they declined his generous 

 offer. 



Leksand, too, can boast of its church, 

 a colossal structure of Russian style cap- 

 able of seating 5,000 persons. It had 

 been predicted that upon the completion 

 of the church the Noret would be de- 

 stroyed by fire and the church itself be 

 swallowed up by the lake. The people 

 anxiously awaited the completion of this 

 building which was to be their pride. 

 Unfortunately the first part of the 

 prophecy was verified, but the church 

 still stands, and I trust it may long re- 

 main in the matchless beauty in which I 

 last saw it. 



In order to realize why such a large 

 structure was erected here it should be 

 borne in mind that the Swedes have for 

 ages been intensely religious, and for a 

 long time the church at Leksand was the 

 only one for miles around. The people 

 came thither from all directions, many 



