is
not very clear what position the fairy of the elder tree bears in
tradition," said Hardy.

"There is supposed to exist in the elder tree a supernatural being, a
gnome or fairy, called the Hyldemoer, or fairy of the elder tree,"
replied the Pastor. "She is said to revenge all injury to the tree;
and of a man who cut an elder bush down, it is related that he died
shortly after. At dusk, the Hyldemoer peeps in through the window at
the children, when they are alone. It is also said that she sucks
their breasts at night, and that this can be only averted by the juice
of an onion."

"Is there any distinct legend of the Hyldemoer?" asked Hardy.

"Not that I know of," replied the Pastor. "There is a saying that a
child cannot sleep if its cradle is made of elder tree, but there is
no story with any incidents, that I am aware of. A cradle of elder
tree is not likely to be often made."

"The legend of the were-wolf is very general in all Europe," said
Hardy. "Does the tradition exist with you?"

"It is called the Varulv with us," replied the Pastor. "It is said to
be a man, who changes into the form of a wolf, and is known by a tuft
of hair between the shoulders. When he wishes to change himself from
the human form to a wolf, he repeats three times, 'I was, I am,' and
immediately his clothes fall off, like a snake changing its skin. It
is said that if a woman creeps under the caul of a foal, extended on
four sticks, that her children will be born without the usual pains of
childbirth, but that the boys will be Varulve, and the daughters
Marer, or mares. The superstition about the latter, I will tell you
presently. The man, however, is freed by some other person telling him
he is a Varulv. In the other traditions on the subject elsewhere, the
Varulv is supposed to attack women near their confinement; and it is
related that a man, who was a Varulv, was at work in the fields with
his wife, when suddenly a wolf appeared, and attacked her. She struck
at it with her apron, which the wolf tore to pieces. Then the man
reappeared, with a torn piece of the apron in his mouth. 'You are a
Varulv,' said the woman; and the man said, 'I was, but now you have
told me so I am free.' This is the Jutland legend of the were-wolf."

"What is that of the Marer, or mares?" asked Hardy.

"Marer is the plural of Mare," replied the Pastor. "It is a woman,
who, like the Varulv, changes to the form of a mare. It is the
nightmare, which, as we a