the dying day), then the Valkyriur make part of an ancient myth of death. And almost all the stories of swan-maidens, or transformations into swans, which are so familiar to the ears of childhood, are related to Odin’s warrior maidens. If we notice the plot of these stories, we shall see that in them too the transformation usually takes place at sun-setting or sunrising. For instance, in the tale of the six swans in Grimm’s _Household Stories_,[127] the enchanted brothers of the princess can only reappear in their true shapes just one hour before sunset. In Christian legends the gods of Asgard, subjected to the changes which inevitably follow a change of belief, became demoniacal powers; and Odin the chief god takes the place of the arch-fiend. For this part he is especially suited by his character of conductor of the souls; if he formerly led them to heaven, he now thrusts them down to hell. But so many elements came together to compose the mediæval idea of the devil that in this character the individuality of Odin is scarcely preserved. At times a wish to revive something of this personal character was felt, especially when the frequent sound of the wind awoke old memories; then Odin re-emerges as some particular fiend or damned human soul. He is the Wandering Jew, a being whose eternal restlessness well keeps up the character of the wind blowing where it listeth: or he is, as we have said, the Wild Huntsman of the Harz, and of many other places. The name of this last being, Hackelberg, or Hackelbärend (cloak-bearer), sufficiently points him out as Odin, who in the heathen traditions had been wont to wander over the earth clad in a blue cloak,[128] and broad hat, and carrying a staff. Hackelberg, the huntsman to the Duke of Brunswick, had refused even on his death-bed the ministrations of a priest, and swore that the cry of his dogs was pleasanter to him than holy rites, and that he would rather hunt for ever upon earth than go to heaven. ‘Then,’ said the man of God, ‘thou shalt hunt on until the Day of Judgment.’ Another legend relates that Hackelberg was a wicked noble who was wont to hunt on Sundays as on other days, and (here comes in the _popular_ version) to impress the poor peasants to aid him. One day he was joined suddenly by two horsemen. One was mild of aspect, but the other was grim and fierce, and from his horse’s mouth and nostril breathed fire. Hackelberg turned then from his good angel, and went on with his wild chase, and now, in company of the fiend, he hunts and will hunt till the last day. He is called in Germany the _hel-jäger_, ‘hell-hunter.’ The peasants hear his ‘hoto’ ‘hutu,’ as the storm-wind rushes past their doors, and if they are alone upon the hillside they hide their faces while the hunt goes by. The white owl, Totosel, is a nun who broke her vows, and now mingles her ‘tutu’ (towhoo) with his ‘holoa.’ He hunts, accompanied by two dogs (the two dogs of Yama), in