hanged　into　Jack　the　Giant…killer：　　but　the　mind　that　made　it　is　here　yet。　　How　strangely　things　grow；　and　die；　and　do　not　die！　　There　are　twigs　of　that　great　world…tree　of　Norse　Belief　still　curiously　traceable。　　This　poor　Jack　of　the　Nursery；　with　his　miraculous　shoes　of　swiftness；　coat　of　darkness；　sword　of　sharpness；　he　is　one。　　_Hynde　Etin_；　and　still　more　decisively　_Red　Etin　of　Ireland_；　_in_　the　Scottish　Ballads；　these　are　both　derived　from　Norseland；　_Etin_　is　evidently　a　_Jotun_。　　Nay；　Shakspeare's　_Hamlet_　is　a　twig　too　of　this　same　world…tree；　there　seems　no　doubt　of　that。　　Hamlet；　_Amleth_　I　find；　is　really　a　mythic　personage；　and　his　Tragedy；　of　the　poisoned　Father；　poisoned　asleep　by　drops　in　his　ear；　and　the　rest；　is　a　Norse　mythus！　　Old　Saxo；　as　his　wont　was；　made　it　a　Danish　history；　Shakspeare；　out　of　Saxo；　made　it　what　we　see。　　That　is　a　twig　of　the　world…tree　that　has　_grown_；　I　think；by　nature　or　accident　that　one　has　grown！
  In　fact；　these　old　Norse　songs　have　a　_truth_　in　them；　an　inward　perennial　truth　and　greatness；as；　indeed；　all　must　have　that　can　very　long　preserve　itself　by　tradition　alone。　　It　is　a　greatness　not　of　mere　body　and　gigantic　bulk；　but　a　rude　greatness　of　soul。　　There　is　a　sublime　uncomplaining　melancholy　traceable　in　these　old　hearts。　　A　great　free　glance　into　the　very　deeps　of　thought。　　They　seem　to　have　seen；　these　brave　old　Northmen；　what　Meditation　has　taught　all　men　in　all　ages；　That　this　world　is　after　all　but　a　show；a　phenomenon　or　appearance；　no　real　thing。　　All　deep　souls　see　into　that；the　Hindoo　Mythologist；　the　German　Philosopher；the　Shakspeare；　the　earnest　Thinker；　wherever　he　may　be：
  〃We　are　such　stuff　as　Dreams　are　made　of！〃
  One　of　Thor's　expeditions；　to　Utgard　（the　_Outer_　Garden；　central　seat　of　Jotun…land）；　is　remarkable　in　this　respect。　　Thialfi　was　with　him；　and　Loke。　　After　various　adventures；　they　entered　upon　Giant…land；　wandered　over　plains；　wild　uncultivated　places；　among　stones　and　trees。　　At　nightfall　they　noticed　a　house；　and　as　the　door；　which　indeed　formed　one　whole　side　of　the　house；　was　open；　they　entered。　　It　was　a　simple　habitation；　one　large　hall；　altogether　empty。　　They　stayed　there。　　Suddenly　in　the　dead　of　the　night　loud　noises　alarmed　them。　　Thor　grasped　his　hammer；　stood　in　the　door；　prepared　for　fight。　　His　companions　within　ran　hither　and　thither　in　their　terror；　seeking　some　outlet　in　that　rude　hall；　they　found　a　little　closet　at　last；　and　took　refuge　there。　　Neither　had　Thor　any　battle：　　for；　lo；　in　the　morning　it　turned　out　that　the　noise　had　been　only　the　_snoring_　of　a　certain　enormous　but　peaceable　Giant；　the　Giant　Skrymir；　who　lay　peaceably　sleeping　near　by；　and　this　that　they　took　for　a　house　was　merely　his　_Glove_；　thrown　aside　there；　the　door　was　the　Glove…wrist；　the　little　closet　they　had　fled　into　was　the　Thumb！　　Such　a　glove；I　remark　too　that　it　had　not　fingers　as　ours　have；　but　only　a　thumb；　and　the　rest　undivided：　　a　most　ancient；　rustic　glove！
  Skrymir　now　carried　their　portmanteau　all　day；　Thor；　however；　had　his　own　suspicions；　did　not　like　the　ways　of　Skrymir；　determined　at　night　to　put　an　end　to　him　as　he　slept。　　Raising　his　hammer；　he　struck　down　into　the　Giant's　face　a　right　thunder…bolt　blow；　of　force　to　rend　rocks。　　The　Giant　merely　awoke；　rubbed　his　cheek；　and　said；　Did　a　leaf　fall？　　Again　Thor　struck；　so　soon　as　Skrymir　again　slept；　a　better　blow　than　before；　but　the　Giant　only　murmured；　Was　that　a　grain　of　sand？　　Thor's　third　stroke　was　with　both　his　hands　（the　〃knuckles　white〃　I　suppose）；　and　seemed　to　dint　deep　into　Skrymir's　visage；　but　he　merely　checked　his　snore；　and　remarked；　There　must　be　sparrows　roosting　in　this　tree；　I　think；　what　is　that　they　have　dropt？At　the　gate　of　Utgard；　a　place　so　high　that　you　had　to　〃strain　your　neck　bending　back　to　see　the　top　of　it；〃　Skrymir　went　his　ways。　　Thor　and　his　companions　were　admitted；　invited　to　take　share　in　the　games　going　on。　　To　Thor；　for　his　part；　they　handed　a　Drinking…horn；　it　was　a　common　feat；　they　told　him；　to　drink　this　dry　at　one　draught。　　Long　and　fiercely；　three　times　over；　Thor　drank；　but　made　hardly　any　impression。　　He　was　a　weak　child；　they　told　him：　　could　he　lift　that　Cat　he　saw　there？　　Small　as　the　feat　seemed；　Thor　with　his　whole　godlike　strength　could　not；　he　bent　up　the　creature's　back；　could　not　raise　its　feet　off　the　ground；　could　at　the　utmost　raise　one　foot。　　Why；　you　are　no　man；　said　the　Utgard　people；　there　is　an　Old　Woman　that　will　wrestle　you！　　Thor；　heartily　ashamed；　seized　this　haggard　Old　Woman；　but　could　not　throw　her。
  And　now；　on　their　quitting　Utgard；　the　chief　Jotun；　escorting　them　politely　a　little　way；　said　to　Thor：　　〃You　are　beaten　then：yet　be　not　so　much　ashamed；　there　was　deception　of　appearance　in　it。　　That　Horn　you　tried　to　drink　was　the　_Sea_；　you　did　make　it　ebb；　but　who　could　drink　that；　the　bottomless！　　The　Cat　you　would　have　lifted；why；　that　is　the　_Midgard…　snake_；　the　Great　World…serpent；　which；　tail　in　mouth；　girds　and　keeps　up　the　whole　created　world；　had　you　torn　that　up；　the　world　must　have　rushed　to　ruin！　　As　for　the　Old　Woman；　she　was　_Time_；　Old　Age；　Duration：　　with　her　what　can　wrestle？　　No　man　nor　no　god　with　her；　gods　or　men；　she　prevails　over　all！　　And　then　those　three　strokes　you　struck；look　at　these　_three　valleys_；　your　three　strokes　made　these！〃　　Thor　looked　at　his　attendant　Jotun：　　it　was　Skrymir；it　was；　say　Norse　critics；　the　old　chaotic　rocky　_Earth_　in　person；　and　that　glove…_house_　was　some　Earth…cavern！　　But　Skrymir　had　vanished；　Utgard　with　its　sky…high　gates；　when　Thor　grasped　his　hammer　to　smite　them；　had　gone　to　air；　only　the　Giant's　voice　was　heard　mocking：　　〃Better　come　no　more　to　Jotunheim！〃
  This　is　of　the　allegoric　period；　as　we　see；　and　half　play；　not　of　the　prophetic　and　entirely　devout：　　but　as　a　mythus　is　there　not　real　antique　Norse　gold　in　it？　　More　true　metal；　rough　from　the　Mimer…stithy；　than　in　many　a　famed　Greek　Mythus　_shaped_　far　better！　　A　great　broad　Brobdignag　grin　of　true　humor　is　in　this　Skrymir；　mirth　resting　on　earnestness　and　sadness；　as　the　rainbow　on　black　tempest：　　only　a　right　valiant　heart　is　capable　of　that。　　It　is　the　grim　humor　of　our　own　Ben　Jonson；　rare　old　Ben；　runs　in　the　blood　of　us；　I　fancy；　for　one　catches　tones　of　it；　under　a　still　other　shape；　out　of　the　American　Backwoods。
  That　is　also　a　very　striking　conception　that　of　the　_Ragnarok_；　Consummation；　or　_Twilight　of　the　Gods_。　　It　is　in　the　_Voluspa_　Song；　seemingly　a　very　old；　prophetic　idea。　　The　Gods　and　Jotuns；　the　divine　Powers　and　the　chaotic　brute　ones；　after　long　contest　and　partial　victory　by　the　former；　meet　at　last　in　universal　world…embracing　wrestle　and　duel；　World…serpent　against　Thor；　strength　against　strength；　mutually　extinctive；　and　ruin；　〃twilight〃　sinking　into　darkness；　swallows　the　created　Universe。　The　old　Universe　with　its　Gods　is　sunk；　but　it　is　not　final　death：　　there　is　to　be　a　new　Heaven　and　a　new　Earth；　a　higher　supreme　God；　and　Justice　to　reign　among　men。　　Curious：　　this　law　of　mutation；　which　also　is　a　law　written　in　man's　inmost　thought；　had　been　deciphered　by　these　old　earnest　Thinkers　in　their　rude　style；　and　how；　though　all　dies；　and　even　gods　die；　yet　all　death　is　but　a　phoenix　fire…death；　and　new…birth　into　the　Greater　and　the　Better！　　It　is　the　fundamental　Law　of　Being　for　a　creature　made　of　Time；　living　in　this　Place　of　Hope。　　All　earnest　men　have　seen　into　it；　may　still　see　into　it。
  And　now；　connected　with　this；　let　us　glance　at　the　_last_　mythus　of　the　appearance　of　Thor；　and　end　there。　　I　fancy　it　to　be　the　latest　in　date　of　all　these　fables；　a　sorrowing　protest　against　the　advance　of　Christianity；set　forth　reproachfully　by　some　Conservative　Pagan。　　King　Olaf　has　been　harshly　blamed　for　his　over…zeal　in　introducing　Christianity；　surely　I　should　have　blamed　him　far　more　for　an　under…zeal　in　that！　　He　paid　dear　enough　for　it；　he　died　by　the　revolt　of　his　Pagan　people；　in　battle；　in　the　year　1033；　at　Stickelstad；　near　that　Drontheim；　where　the　chief　Cathedral　of　the　North　has　now　stood　for　many　centuries；　dedicated　gratefully　to　his　memory　as　_Saint_　Olaf。　　The　mythus　about　Thor　is　to　this　effect。　　King　Olaf；　the　Christian　Reform　King；　is　sailing　with　fit　escort　along　the　shore　of　Norway；　from　haven　to　haven；　dispensing　justice；　or　doing　other　royal　work：　　on　leaving　a　certain　haven；　it　is　found　that　a　stranger；　of　grave　eyes　and　aspect；　red　beard；　of　stately　robust　figure；　has　stept　in。　　The　courtiers　address　him；　his　answers　surprise　by　their　pertinency　and　depth：　　at　length　he　is　brought　to　the　King。　The　stranger's　conversation　here　is　not　less　remarkable；　as　they　sail　along　the　beautiful　shore；　but　after　some　time；　he　addresses　King　Olaf　thus：　　〃Yes；　King　Olaf；　it　is　all　beautiful；　with　the　sun　shining　on　it　there；　green；　fruitful；　a　right　fair　home　for　you；　and　many　a　sore　day　had　Thor；　many　a　wild　fight　with　the　rock　Jotuns；　before　he　could　make　it　so。　　And　now　you　seem　minded　to　put　away　Thor。　　King　Olaf；　have　a　care！〃　said　the　stranger；　drawing　down　his　brows；and　when　they　looked　again；　he　was　nowhere　to　be　found。This　is　the　last　appearance　of　Thor　on　the　stage　of　this　world！
  Do　we　not　see　well　enough　how　the　Fable　might　arise；　without　unver