garius, who
was very enthusiastic, accepted a mission to the north of Europe, and
preached Christianity in Denmark and Sweden. Jutland was for some time
the scene of his labours, and he made many converts there; also in
Sleswig, where a Christian school for children was established, who,
on leaving it, were sent to spread Christianity throughout the
country. An archbishopric was founded by the then Emperor of Germany
in conformity to a plan which had been traced, though not carried out,
by Charlemagne; and this was bestowed upon Ansgarius. But the church
he had built was burnt by some still heathen Danes, who, gathering a
large fleet, invaded Hamburg, which they also reduced to ashes. The
emperor then constituted him Bishop of Bremen.--_Trans._]

The men, returning from their expedition, had told of the splendid
temples of costly hewn stone raised to Him whose errand was love. A
pair of heavy golden vessels, beautifully wrought out of pure gold,
were brought home, and both had a charming, spicy perfume. They were
the censers which the Christian priests swung before the altars, on
which blood never flowed; but wine and the consecrated bread were
changed into the blood of Him who had given himself for generations
yet unborn.

To the deep, stone-walled cellars of the Viking's loghouse was the
young captive, the Christian priest, consigned, fettered with cords
round his feet and his hands. He was as beautiful as Baldur to look
at, said the Viking's wife, and she was grieved at his fate; but young
Helga wished that he should be ham-strung, and bound to the tails of
wild oxen.

"Then I should let loose the dogs. Halloo! Then away over bogs and
pools to the naked heath. Hah! that would be something pleasant to
see--still pleasanter to follow him on the wild journey."

But the Viking would not hear of his being put to such a death. On the
morrow, as a scoffer and denier of the high gods, he was to be offered
up as a sacrifice to them upon the blood stone in the sacred grove.
He was to be the first human sacrifice ever offered up there.

Young Helga prayed that she might be allowed to sprinkle with the
blood of the captive the images of the gods and the assembled
spectators. She sharpened her gleaming knife, and, as one of the large
ferocious dogs, of which there were plenty in the courtyard, leaped
over her feet, she stuck the knife into his side.

"That is to prove the blade," she exclaimed.

And the Viking's wife was