Many years ago an epidemic swept over Dalland. Thousands of persons fell victims. Many people fled to the forests, or to other regions; the churches were deserted, and those remaining were not enough to bury the dead. At this stage an old Finlander came along and told the few survivors that they need not hope the scourge would cease until they had buried some living thing.
      The people took the advice. First they buried a cock alive, but the plague went on as violent as ever among the few survivors. Next they buried a goat, but this also proved ineffectual. At last they lured a poor, wandering begging boy to a wood-covered hill where they had dug a deep hole. The boy was made to sit down on a log beside it and enjoy a piece of bread and butter. Still with his bread and butter in hand he was dropped into to the pit, and the diggers started to shovel dirt over him him. The lad begged and prayed them not to throw dirt on his bread and butter, but in a few minutes he was entirely covered and left to his fate.
      In the night some of them heard a nightly voice as if from a dying child, crying, "Buried alive! buried alive!"