the gods, there they live, as unconcernedly as though
the earth were not. Thor, and Odin, and Freia live in the 'Shining
Walhalla,' whither go the souls of brave and good warriors. Their way
thither is over the heavenly bridge, the many-colored rainbow, thrown
over between heaven and earth for the passage of the happy souls. And
there in this dim, ghostly Walhalla they sit like the Grecian gods, and
drink mead instead of ambrosia and nectar. They do not share in the
earthly vices of the Southern gods. Thor never begat such a progeny as
Jupiter.

Repose is also, as hinted at, a characteristic of Southern mythology,
while action, assisted by supernatural agencies, is the feature of the
Northern deities. Thus Jupiter sits majestic and silent upon Olympus and
nods his head, and the whole earth shakes. He is human in his character,
but of an ideal and superior human nature--man immensely magnified. The
gods of Norway are also human, but they are, in themselves, _mere_ men.
What makes them gods is the magic power which is joined with them, a
mere adjunct not forming a part of them. They toil and act like
men--they are never still. Thor bears the hammer, the emblem of physical
strength, energy, and activity. He can at a draught half drain the sea,
and cause the tides to rise and ebb; he can lift the serpent that
surrounds the world; he can wrestle with Death himself, and almost come
off victorious. The giants are his mortal enemies, and against them he
wages war and bears deadly hatred, as Jupiter against the Titans. None
but the warrior, who has fought long and well, enjoys the long dreamt-of
mead of Walhalla. A death on one's own bed is almost as ignominious as
that of the coward. The straw-death (_stroedod_) they will endeavor to
avoid by opening their own veins and bleeding to death, and as the warm
life-blood pours forth, they sing triumphant death-songs, and see the
portals gradually open to receive them, and Braga the Scald, seated at
the gate with his magic-sounding harp, his fingers running through the
golden strings, and in such ecstasies they give up the ghost. The Greek
dies in a more quiet, philosophical, and practical manner. He does not
fear the shame of a warm and soft bed. Achilles, and Ajax, and Diomed,
are not the only inmates of Elysium. Socrates, and Plato, and Homer,
Apelles and Zeuxis, are all there too. The poet and the philosopher, the
painter and the sculptor, rank as high through pen, pencil, and chis