may rest on you for suffering it. Track him down we must. Go to the barn and tell the fellow that we are here, and that you have no thoughts of keeping us from off him."

"I shall do so,” replied Geirmund; "and advise him to decamp; and do you track him down when he has left my shelter."

"Be it so."

Geirmund then stole into the out-house and told Hrolleifr that Ingimund's sons were in full hue and cry after him. “Then I must run for it," said the skulking rascal. Geirmund returned to Thorstein and said, "Don't be too hasty, wait here another day." To this the young man agreed. Next morning the brothers took themselves over the scaur, and lighted on the track of a man in the snow. "Let us sit down here," quoth Thorstein; " and I shall tell you my conversation with Geirmund. It is true that Hrolleifr was at his house whilst we were there."

"You are a fine fellow," burst forth Jökull, "to dangle about a farm composedly, whilst your father's murderer was within reach. Had I only known it, none of your wise reasons would have withheld me from my revenge.

"Be patient," said Thorstein; "it would not have done to let Geirmund be involved in the murder of his kinsman. We are in full scent now; here are the traces in the snow, pointing towards As. Now I guess that Ljót will be offering a sacrifice for the coming in of summer, according to her wont, and we must strike the blow before that is accomplished."

Jökull jumped up shouting, "Let us hasten on at once!" and as he was walking ahead, he looked scornfully over his shoulder, and said, "Bad luck to a man as frail of hand and heart as brother Thorstein. I am sure the chance of revenge will slip through our fingers through his procrastination, and we shall do nothing."

Thorstein answered calmly, "It is not clear yet that your indiscreet impetuosity would be more advantageous than my matured plans."

Towards undern they reached Hóf, and supper was ready.

Thorstein stepped outside, and calling a herdsman to him, said, "Run to As, tap at the door, and see how long they are before opening the door; sing in the meantime some verses, and give out as your errand, a search after strayed sheep. Should they ask whether we have returned, reply in the negative."

The shepherd went to As and knocked at the door; no one answered his rap, till he had trolled out twelve verses, then a house-churl came and asked what he wanted, and also whether the brothers had come home. He replied that they had not, and then asked after his sheep: he was told that they had not strayed thither.

So the shepherd returned, and told Thorstein how many verses he had chanted.

"Humph!" quoth Thorstein; "then they had ample time for arranging things within before they admitted you: but did you step inside?"

He said that he had, and that he had looked about him.
Thorstein inquired, "Was there a brisk fire on the

hearth?"

The man replied that there was, "Just enough to be quickened up in a twinkling."

"Did you notice any peculiarity at all about the house? ?” "Yes," answered the shepherd; "there was a great bundle in one corner, and a bit of red dress peeping out of it." Thorstein exclaimed, "Then you saw the sacrificial robe! we must give chase at once, and do our best."

So he and his brothers hurried to As, and no one was outside the house; they saw a heap of logs on either side of the roof-ridge filling up the space between the gables, and a little house standing before the door of the byre.

"That is the temple," quoth Thorstein; "Hrolleifr will go thither when all his devilry is ready. Now, all of you hide behind the corner of the house, and I will sit up here over the door, holding a club in my hand. When Hrolleifr steps out, I will throw the log towards you, and then rush to my assistance."

"I see, brother!" exclaimed Jökull; "you want to get all the merit of the job yourself. I will sit up in the woodstack with the stick."

but you

"Have your own way," answered Thorstein ; are too rash to be well trusted; you may bring us into a hobble."

Jökull scrambled up into the pile of logs, and the others lurked behind the wall.

Presently out came a man, who looked round, and not seeing any one, gave a signal that all was safe, and out stepped a second man, then a third, and the last was Hrolleifr himself.

Jökull recognized him instantly, and, turning sharply round, the pile of logs gave way, yet he managed to fling the club towards his brothers; then he slipped down on Hrolleifr and caught him in his arms, but with the impetus both fell on the ground and rolled down the slope, so that one lay on top

of the other.

Out rushed the brothers, and Högni exclaimed, "Look, only look, a troll is coming towards us, what can it be?"

What he saw was Ljót, who was running towards them with her head between her feet, and in a manner truly frightful; flashes of glamour shot from her eyeballs.

Just then Thorstein shouted to Jökull, "Kill Hrolleifr at once, now you have the chance!"

"That is what I am about," answered Jökull, smiting the murderer's head off, with a hope that evil might befall him elsewhere.

66

66

Ah, ha!" yelled Ljót; "you sons of Ingimund have luck on your side, or I would have overmastered you!" Pray, how would you have done that?" asked Thorstein. "If I had only seen you before you caught sight of me, I would have made your heads spin so that you would have grovelled like barrow-hogs on the ground."

"Fortune wills it otherwise," said Thorstein, cutting the hag down; and so she perished in her evil temper and her sorcery. So now these two are done for, and badly too.

At Grimstúnga I obtained two MSS. of interest; one was a 12mo volume of Sagas and Rimur, written in different hands, and at different times; of these, the Saga of Asmund the Viking is unpublished; the other MS. was the Harald's Hringsbana Saga, wanting the first leaf, also unpublished, and moreover, not mentioned by Müller in his Saga Bibliothek. At the end of the Nitidar Rimur, in the first book, are some curious broken lines, arranged like the well-known Latin,—

The Icelandic Vers brisés are more ingenious, though less

Hnikars talið, or Odin's speech, signifies poetry. It is from this name of the Scandinavian god, that we get our vulgar appellation of "Old Nick," and the word is derived from some root signifying to rage with freakish violence, common to several of the Aryan tongues. Thus we find the Greek vikn, victory; the old Norse, or Icelandic hnika, to agitate, strike; and its cognate verbs hnikkja, to thrust forward violently, and hnekkja, to repel: hence also the AngloSaxon nacan, to kill; the Latin, necare; the German, knacken ; the Danish, nykke, whim, freak; and the English, knack, knock.

From having this meaning of violence accompanied with whim, it was early applied, in mythology, to the divinities connected with the elements; and, beneath the tempestuous skies and wild lashing seas of the north, Odin, as their ruler, was termed, Hnikarr, Nikarr, or Hnikuor-the Moso-Gothic form of which was Nikuz. The rainbow was, "regn boði Hnikars."

Christianity overthrew the worship of Odin, but, like the polypus, though cut to pieces, he revived in each morsel an

entire Nick, to frequent the waters throughout the north of Europe.

The Swedish Neck appears, generally, as a handsome youth with his lower extremities like those of a horse. In Norway, the Nök lives in lakes and rivers, and demands a human victim every year. There, any one approaching extensive sheets of water, must not forget to say, "Nyk! Nyk! needle in water! The Virgin Mary cast steel into water! Sink thou, I float!"

In Germany he is called Nisc or Neck-the river Necker is named after him. In the Netherlands he is to be heard of under the same appellation. In North Germany exists, under the surface of the water, the black Nickle man, or Nick, who is formed like a man as far as the middle, but terminates as a fish; he has very sharp teeth; his usual food consists of fishes, but he not unfrequently drags down human beings. In Thale, the country people were obliged, till lately, to throw a black cock into the Bode every year, for, if they omitted to do so, the Nick would catch and drown some one. Nykr, as a water-horse, frequents several Icelandic lakes, among others that in the Vatnsdalr. He is fond of getting human beings to mount his back, that he may plunge with them into his native element, and make them his prey. The Icelanders have a lay about a certain damsel named Ellen, who was thus carried off by Nyk. This ballad exists in other languages, such as Faroese, Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, German, English, Wend, Slovakian, Bohemian, and Breton.

Poor Nick! I pity him, for he is of honourable family, being, as you will observe, descended from the gods of Asgaard. Why should England have taken upon herself to bedaub him with layer upon layer of lamp-black?* I will tell one story about him, and have done.

Once upon a time, an old priest was ambling homewards on his nag, and as, towards even-fall, he neared a pool, to his astonishment he saw a lad, naked to the waist, sitting on

* Among the grafiti, or scrawls, on the walls of Pompeii, is a school-boy sketch of Pluto, in black chalk, armed (as heralds would say) with horns, hoofs, and tail, just the very appearance Nick has taken upon himself now.