A little tired, and not a little hungry, it was very good now to have a change, and be at home. The girls went to dress for dinner, while Meredith, whose toilet was sooner made, sat on the terrace in the mellow October light and dreamed. Dinner went off merrily. After dinner, when it began to be dark, they all repaired to the library. A little fire was kindled here, for the pleasure of it rather than from the need. The afghan and worsted embroidery came out again under the bright lamplight; but Meredith sat idly tending the fire.

"Ditto," said Maggie, "can't we see about all those Saxon gods now?—or don't you want to?"

"Of course, I want to see about them," said Meredith, springing up and going to the bookcases. "I want to know myself, Maggie."

"Were they different from the Roman and Grecian gods?" Flora asked.

"It is safe for people who cannot keep their ears open, to refrain from questions," Meredith answered.

"Why, I heard all you read," said Flora, pouting a little; "but how should I know but those were the same as the Roman gods, only under different names?"

"If you please to recollect, you will remember that the two nations had nothing to do with one another except at the spear's point. But if I can find what I want, I will enlighten you and myself too," said Meredith, rummaging among the bookshelves. "Here it is, I believe!" And with a volume in his hand he came back to the table and the lamp; but then became absorbed in study. Worsted needles flew in and out. Maggie watched Meredith's face and the leaves of his book as they were turned over.

"Well, Ditto?" she said after a while.

"What?"

"Yes, what?" said Maggie, laughing. "Have you found anything?"

"To be sure!" said Meredith, straightening himself up. "Yes, Maggie, it's all here—in a somewhat brief fashion."

"Well, who was Woden?"

"Woden was the principal deity. He was the god of the moving air, and of the light."

"Like Apollo," said Flora.

"Yes—more like Zeus or Jupiter. He was the all-father—the universally present spirit: above all the other gods. He was the god of the sky. They represented him with two ravens that sat on his shoulders, which every morning brought him news of whatever was going on in Midgard."

"What's Midgard?"

"Our lower earth. And the abode of the gods was called Asgard."

"We did not read anything about Midgard and Asgard to-day."

"No, but I thought you might like to know. And then Walhalla was the place where Odin put half of the brave men who were slain in battle."

"What became of the other half?" said Flora.

"The goddess Freija took care of them. What she did with them, this book does not say. I have read before of the 'halls of Walhalla,' I am glad to know what it means."

"Who was Freija?"

"Wait a bit; I have not got through with Woden, or Odin. His two ravens were called Hunin and Munin—which means, Thought and Memory. That's pretty! Woden is painted also as attended by two dogs. He was the chief and head of the gods, you understand. Now Freija was one of his wives. Naturally, she was the goddess of good weather and harvests—a fair kind of goddess generally. Also the dead were in her care; the other half of the heroes slain in battle came into her hands. She is painted riding in a chariot drawn by two cats."

"But, Ditto, if Woden was the sky god, I don't see why those old Saxons should have fancied he would like such cruel sacrifices. Sunlight looks bright and cheerful."

Meredith mused.

"Yes," he said, "it does look bright and cheerful—but, it hates darkness."

"What then, Ditto?"

"Darkness means sin."

"Oh, do you think that?" cried Maggie. "To be sure, I know darkness means sin. But do you think those old Saxons"——

"They felt the difference between darkness and light, undoubtedly, and they feared the sun-god."

"But I don't see how they could think he was so cruel, though."

"I suppose that is all quite natural," said Meredith musingly. "How afraid we should be of God, if we did not know Jesus Christ!"

"Were the old Hebrews so afraid of Him?" Flora asked.

"Terribly. Don't you remember? they always thought they must die when the Angel of Jehovah appeared to them? And how should people who never heard of Christ guess that God is so good as He is? They feel that they are sinners—how should they know that He will forgive?"

"But to think to please Him by such awful sacrifices!" said Flora.

"I suppose the idea was, to give him the most precious thing there was."

"I shall ask Mr. Murray," said Flora. "It is all a puzzle to me. In the first place, I do not believe such heathen people know they are sinners."

"Yes, they do. Certainly they do, all the world over, and this is one of the ways they show it. 'How beautiful' among them must be 'the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace!—that bringeth good tidings of good; that publisheth salvation!'""What a pity you hadn't lived in Landolf's time!" said Flora.

"There are enough heathen left," said her brother, "and worse than those old Saxons. Theirs was not a bad specimen of heathen mythology, by any means. And yet, think of believing one's self given over to the tender mercies of Woden and Thor!"

"And yet by your account people were better than they are now!"

"Some people—and some people," answered Meredith. "I must ask Mr. Murray about that. I do not understand it."

"We shall get work enough ready for him by the time he comes. Well, go on with your Saxon mythology and be done with it. I do not think it is very interesting."

"Maggie and I are of a different opinion. But it was rather Norse mythology. Sweden and Norway and Denmark were all of one race and one faith. Norsemen carried it to Iceland, and it is odd enough that from Iceland we get our best accounts of it."

Maggie had mounted up with her knees in a chair and her elbows on the table, leaning over towards Meredith, and now begged he would tell about Thor.

"Thor was the thunderer."

"What do you mean?"

"The god of thunder and lightning. He was the son of Odin, or Woden. He is represented driving in a car drawn by two goats and with a great hammer in his hand. This hammer was forged by the dwarfs, Kobolds, I suppose, who dwelt in the centre of the earth."

"What did he want a hammer for?"

"To strike withal. And when Thor's hammer came down, that made the thunder, don't you see? and his stroke was the thunderbolt."

"I should think they would have been frightened to death in a thunder-storm."

"Not an expression those old Saxons knew anything about.""Well, I should think they would have feared Thor."

"There is no doubt but they did. Those poor captives at the stone-houses were slaughtered in honour of Woden and Thor, don't you remember? But he was also the god of fire, and the god of the domestic hearth. Listen to this: 'Among the pagan Norsemen, Thor's hammer was held in as much reverence as Christ's cross among Christians. It was carved on their gravestones; and wrought of wood or iron, it was suspended in their temples.'"

"Thor's hammer!" repeated Maggie. "Poor people!"

"Nobody worships Thor now," observed Esther scornfully.

"We call one of our days after him yet," said Meredith. "There is a relic of the old Thor worship. Indeed all our days are heathenish in name."

"All?" said Flora, looking up. "What is Monday?"

"Just the Moon's day, don't you see? Sunday is the Sun's day. Woden's day and Thor's day, you know. Then Friday is of course Freija's day—or Freyr's day—I don't know which. Freyr was the god of weather and fruits—another impersonation of Odin. He rode through the air on a wild boar, faster than any horse could catch him. An odd steed! And Tuesday is Tyr's day, or Zin's day—it comes to much the same thing. He was especially the 'god of war and of athletic sports.'"

"Then there is Saturday left," said Maggie. "What is Saturday?"

"I think it must have been Saturn's day—and so not Saxon, Maggie, but Roman. The names of our months are all Roman, you know?"

"Are they?"

"Yes, but wait. Here is something curious. The Saxon devil was called Loki. Now Loki had three children. Listen to this. 'One was the huge wolf Fenris, who at the last day shall hurry gaping to the scene of battle, with his lower jaw scraping the earth and his nose scraping the sky.'""What is curious in that?" asked Flora. "It is just like a children's fairy tale."

"But these are not children's fairy tales; and they mean something. How did these old Norsemen know there would be a scene of battle at the last day, and great destruction?"

"How do you know it?"

"The Bible."

"Does the Bible say so, Ditto?" said Maggie. "Where does it say so?"

"Many places."

"Tell us one, Ditto."

Meredith rose up and fetched a Bible and pushed his book of Norse mythology on one side. Then he opened at the nineteenth chapter of the Revelation.

"'And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew, but he himself. And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood; and his name is called The Word of God. And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean. And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations; and he shall rule them with a rod of iron: and he treadeth the wine press of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.

"'And I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried with a loud voice, saying to all the fowls that fly in the midst of heaven, Come and gather yourselves together unto the supper of the great God; that ye may eat the flesh of kings, and the flesh of captains, and the flesh of mighty men, and the flesh of horses, and of them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both free and bond, both small and great.

"'And I saw the beast, and the kings of the earth, and their armies, gathered together to make war against him that sat on the horse, and against his army. And the beast was taken, and with him the false prophet that wrought miracles before him, with which he deceived them that had received the mark of the beast, and them that worshipped his image. These both were cast alive into a lake of fire burning with brimstone. And the remnant were slain with the sword of him that sat upon the horse, which sword proceeded out of his mouth: and all the fowls were filled with their flesh.'"

"I do not understand all that, the least bit," said Flora.

"You understand there will be a war, and a battle?"

"But that's a figure."

"No, it's a fact. How should it be a figure?"

"What do you understand by a 'sword proceeding out of His mouth?'"

"That is in the description of Christ in the first chapter: 'And he had in his right hand seven stars; and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword.'"

"Well, isn't that a figure? What does it mean?"

"Listen to the description of Christ that Isaiah gives: 'With righteousness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth; and he shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the wicked.'"

"Well?"

"And in Thessalonians: 'Then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming.' And in Ephesians: 'The sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.'"

"Well," said Flora, "that is not a real sword, with a handle and an edge."

"The Bible says it has two edges."

"Nonsense! you know what I mean."

"I know. Certainly, Flora, the weapons of that battle may not be weapons of flesh and blood, or for flesh and blood; but the battle is real, don't you see? and the awful overthrow and destruction, and what I am wondering about is, how those old Saxons knew there would be such a battle at the end? and how they knew that the mischief would in some sense come from the devil."

"Did they know it?"

"The wolf Fenris was one of the devil's children, as they made it out. And another was the serpent which Odin cast into the sea, where it grew and grew till it had wound up the whole earth in its folds. That is very curious!"

"What, Ditto?"

"How did they know that?"

"Know what?"

"Why, don't you see? The serpent is one of the Bible words for the devil; here, it is a child of the devil who, coming to the earth, has enveloped the whole world in his toils. The Bible says, I know, somewhere, that those who are not saved by Christ are 'in the Wicked one.' How did they know so much, and so little, those old people?"

"Where did you find all those Bible verses just now about the sword, Ditto?"

"References here, Maggie."

"Well, go on, Ditto. There were three children of the devil."

"The third was the goddess Hel or Hela. She was the goddess of the lower world, and was half black and half blue. I wonder! that must be where our word 'hell' comes from. What dreadful old times! And times now are just as bad, for a great part of the world. The goddess Hel was very like the horrible Hindoo goddess Kali, they say here."

"I don't believe those times were so much worse than these times," said Flora.

"You think human sacrifices are a pleasant religious feature?"

"Not to the victims; but I suppose the rest were all accustomed to it, and didn't feel so shocked as you do."

"Landolf seems to have been a good deal shocked."

"Are you going to read us anything more, Ditto, about those queer old gods?""There isn't much more that I need read, Maggie. I have told you about the principal deities. They believed in quantities of lesser ones—really, personifications of the good and evil powers of nature. The elves and their king, and the dwarfs living inside the hills. The dwarfs owned the treasures of the mines, and worked in metals and precious stones."

"I should like to believe in elves and fairies," said Flora.

"Why?"

"Oh, it's pretty and poetical. Fairy rings, and all that."

"Would you like to think there were hidden powers in every piece of water, and rock, and hill, which might feel kindly disposed towards you and might not? which might suddenly play you an ill trick and make you most mischievous trouble, for nothing but mischief."

"Did people believe so, Ditto?"

"Certainly. A great many people, in various parts of the world."

"I would rather believe that God has it all in His hand," said Maggie contentedly.

"So would I, Maggie. And that Jesus has the keys of hell and of death."

"I wonder when Fenton will be here," remarked Esther.

"I hope—he won't come—till—Uncle Eden gets here," said Maggie very deliberately.

"Why not?" said Esther sharply.

"He is uneasy," said Maggie, with a corresponding shrug of her shoulders; "I never know what Fenton will take it into his head to do."

"That is a nice way to speak of your brother."

Maggie considered that. "I can't find any nicer," she said at length.

"Then I wouldn't speak at all."

"Never mind," said Flora. "One's brothers are always a mixture of comfort and plague. And that is true of the best of them, Esther; you never know what they will take into their heads to do.""Oh, Flora!"——Maggie began, and stopped.

"You think there is a difference between brothers and brothers," said Flora laughing. "Well, my experience is what I tell you."

"Ditto," said Maggie suddenly, "are there any such stones as those queer stone-houses in this country?"

"Not that ever I heard of, Maggie. But in the old world, as it is called, there are a great many, scattered over a great many countries. Not all just like the stone-houses. Some are just single stones set up on end. Some are two laid together, one resting on the other slantwise; the stone-houses in LÜneburg seem to have been made of nine stones, one lying on eight."

"Did people offer human sacrifices on all of them?"

"I fancy not. But I believe it is tolerably uncertain. Did you never see a picture of Stonehenge?"

Maggie knew nothing about Stonehenge. Meredith went to the bookcases again and got another volume. This contained many illustrations of old stone monuments of various kinds, and he and Maggie were soon absorbed in studying them.

"There!" cried Maggie, as he opened at one of the earliest illustrations, "there, Ditto! that is very like—very like—what you read of the stone-houses. Isn't it?"

"Fearfully like," said Meredith. "This is in Ireland. I dare say some of those old Druids sacrificed men on it."

"How could they set it up so? Look, Ditto—the top stone rests just on one point at the lowest end. I should think it would topple down."

"It has stood hundreds of years, Maggie, and will stand for all time—unless an earthquake shakes it down. This dolmen is made of four stones."

"What is a dolmen?"

"This is one. It says here in a note, that the name comes 'from the Celtic word Daul, a table, and Chen or Chaen, a stone.' A stone table. And it says here that there are probably a hundred of such dolmens in Great Britain and Ireland. How ever did the builders get that enormous block poised on the tips of the other three?"

Slowly and absorbedly the two went on exploring the pages of the book; stopping to read, stopping to talk and discuss the questions of tumuli and stone circles, dolmens and menhirs. The opinion of the author, that the great circles commemorated great battles, and were raised in honour of the dead buried within them, and that many dolmens had a sepulchral character, was somewhat confusing to the Druidical and tragical impressions left from the Saxon chronicle; which, however, at last got an undeniable support. In the stones of Stennis, over which Maggie and Meredith pondered with intense interest, one of the enormous up-standing masses has a hole through it. And this stone, there is no doubt, was dedicated to Woden. And so long had the superstition of Woden's worship clung to it, that until very lately an oath sworn by persons joining their hands through this hole, was reckoned especially sacred; even the courts of law so recognising it. After that, Woden seemed to Maggie to have strong claim to all the upright stones and altar-looking dolmens that are found where the worship of Woden has once prevailed. Leaving Stennis they went on to Runic crosses, German dolmens, and French dolmens, and on and on, from country to country. When at last they lifted up their heads and looked around them, they were alone. The girls had gone off to bed; the worsted work lay, left on the table; the fire was out; the minute-hand pointed to ten o'clock. Meredith and Maggie glanced at each other and smiled.

"We have forgotten ourselves," said he.

"You see, Ditto," said Maggie, "we've been travelling. Oh, I wish I could see the Stones of Stennis, don't you? and the Stone of Woden?"

"Well, now, you had better travel to bed, little one, and forget it all. Don't see it in your dreams."