hough originally gross and
rough, he was capable of a smoother polish, of a glossier enamel, than
a more superficial, trivial nature. He was ever deeply thoughtful, and
capable of profounder moods of meditation than the lightly-moved
children of the South. Sighs, as from the boughs of Yggdrasil, ever
breathed through his poetry from of old. He was a smith, an artificer,
and a delver in mines from the beginning. The old Teutonic Pan was far
more musical and awe-inspiring than his Grecian counterpart The
Noon-spirit of the North was more wild than that of the South. How all
the ancient North was alive in its Troll-haunted hillocks, where
clanged the anvil of the faery hill-smith, and danced and banqueted the
Gnome and Troll,--and in its streams and springs, musical with the
harps of moist-haired Elle-women and mermaids, who, ethnic daemons
though they were, yet cherished a hope of salvation! The myth-spirits
of the North were more homely and domestic than those of the South, and
had a broader humor and livelier fancies. The Northern Elf-folk were
true natives of the soil, grotesque in costume and shape.

The Teuton of to-day is the lineal descendant of the old worshipper of
Thor. Mioellnir, the hammer of Thor, still survives in the gigantic
mechanisms of Watt, Fulton, and Stephenson. Thor embodied more Teutonic
attributes than Odin. The feats which Thor performed in that strange
city of Utgard, as they are related in the old "Prose Edda," were
prophetic of the future achievements of the race, of which he was a
chief god. Thor once went on a journey to Joetunheim, or Giant-land,--a
primitive outlying country, full of the enemies of the Asgard dynasty,
or cosmical deities. In the course of the journey, he lodged one night
with his two companions in what he supposed to be a huge hall, but
which turned out to be the glove of a giant named Skrymir, who was
asleep and snoring as loud as an earthquake, near by. When the giant
awoke, he said to Thor, who stood near,--"My name is Skrymir, but I
need not ask thy name, for I know that thou art the god Thor. But what
hast thou done with my glove?" Sure enough, on looking, Thor found that
he had put up that night in Skrymir's handshoe, or glove. The giant and
Thor breakfasted amicably together and went on their way till night,
when Skrymir gave up his wallet of provisions to Thor and his two
companions, and bade them supply themselves,--he meanwhile composing
himself to sleep, snoring