his uncomfortable secret.  Odin and Jupiter are brothers, if not the same person; and the northern Hercules is often represented as drawing a strong man by almost invisible threads, which pass from his tongue round the limbs of the victim, thereby symbolising the power of eloquence.  Several incidents in the following tales will be recognised by those conversant with Scandinavian literature, thus adding another link to the chain of certainty which unites the human race, or at any rate that part of it from which Europe was originally peopled, in one original tribe or family.

A work of this nature, embodying the material of our own island traditions, has not yet been attempted; and the writer confidently hopes that these tales may be found fully capable of awakening and sustaining the peculiar and high-wrought interest inherent in the legends of our continental neighbours.  Should they fail of producing this effect, he requests that it may be attributed rather to his want of power to conjure up the spirits of past ages, than to any want of capabilities in the subjects he has chosen to introduce.

To the local and to the general reader—­to the antiquary and the uninitiated—­to the admirers of the fine arts and embellishments of our literature, he hopes his labours will prove acceptable; and should the plan succeed, not Lancashire alone, but the other counties, may in their turn become the subject of similar illustrations.  The tales are arranged chronologically, forming a somewhat irregular series from the earliest records to those of a comparatively modern date.  They may in point of style appear at the commencement stiff and stalwart, like the chiselled warriors, whose deeds are generally enveloped in a rude narrative, hard and ponderous as their gaunt and grisly effigies.  The events, however, as the author has found them, gradually assimilate with the familiar aspects and everyday affections of our nature—­subsiding from the stern and repulsive character of a barbarous age into the usual forms and modes of feeling incident to humanity—­as some cold and barren region, where one stunted blade of affection can scarce find shelter, gradually opens Out into the quiet glades and lowly habitudes of ordinary existence.

The author disclaims all pretensions to superior knowledge.  He would not even arrogate to himself the name of antiquary.  Some of the incidents are perhaps well known, being merely put into a novel and more popular shape.  The spectator is here placed upon an eminence where the scenes assume a new aspect, new combinations of beauty and grandeur being the result of the vantage ground he has obtained.  Nothing more is attempted than what others, with the same opportunities, might have done as well—­perhaps better.  When Columbus broke the egg—­if we may be excused the arrogance of the simile—­all that were present could have done the same; and some, no doubt, might have performed the operation more dexterously.