{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_71936/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_71936","id":"gutenberg_71936","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/71936","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Travel Writing","Faroe Islands","Folklore -- Iceland","Iceland -- Description and travel"],"text":"PEN AND PENCIL SKETCHES\n\n OF\n\n FAR\u00d6E AND ICELAND.\n\n\n -------\n\n\n \u201cTo the ocean now I fly,\n And those _northern_ climes that lie\n Where Day never shuts his eye.\u201d\n\n _Comus._\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n[Illustration: THE GREAT GEYSER IN ERUPTION.\u2014_See page 117._]\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n PEN AND PENCIL SKETCHES\n\n\n OF\n\n\n FAR\u00d6E AND ICELAND\n\n\n\n\n WITH AN APPENDIX\n\n CONTAINING TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ICELANDIC\n\n AND 51 ILLUSTRATIONS ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY W. J. LINTON\n\n\n\n\n BY\n\n ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON\n\n Author of \u201cHarebell Chimes,\u201d \u201cThe Beautiful in Nature, Art, and Life,\u201d\n &c.\n\n\n\n\n LONDON\n LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN, AND ROBERTS\n 1862\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n TO\n\n LAURENCE EDMONDSTON, ESQ., M.D.,\n\n OF SHETLAND,\n\n CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE ROYAL PHYSICAL AND WERNERIAN SOCIETIES,\n EDINBURGH;\n HONORARY MEMBER OF THE YORKSHIRE PHILOSOPHICAL AND MANCHESTER\n NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETIES, ETC.,\n\n\n THIS VOLUME\n\n\n IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY HIS SON-IN-LAW\n\n A.J.S.\n\n\n\n MAY 1862.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n PREFACE.\n\n\n -------\n\nThe greater part of this volume consists of a diary jotted down in\npresence of the scenes described, so as to preserve for the reader, as\nfar as possible, the freshness of first impressions, and invest the\nwhole with an atmosphere of human interest.\n\nThe route taken may be thus shortly indicated: Thorshavn; Portland Huk;\nthe Westmanna Islands; Reykjavik; the Geysers; then, by sea, round the\nsouth coast of the island, with its magnificent J\u00f6kul-range of\nvolcanoes; along the east coast, with its picturesque Fiords, as far\nnorth as Seydisfiord; and thence home again, by the Far\u00f6e Isles.\n\nThe aim, throughout, has been both to present pictures and condense\ninformation on matters relating to Far\u00f6e and Iceland. In obtaining the\nlatter I have had the advantages of frequent intercourse with\nIcelanders, both personal and by letter, since my visit to the North in\nthe summer of 1859, and would here mention, in particular, the Rev. Olaf\nP\u00e1lsson, Dean and Rector of Reykjavik Cathedral; Mr. J\u00f3n Arnason,\nSecretary to the Bishop, and Librarian; Mr. G\u00edsli Brynj\u00falfsson, the\nIcelandic poet and M.P.; Mr. Sigurdur Sivertsen, a retired merchant, and\nMr. Jacobson.\n\nAnd so too with the Far\u00f6ese.\n\nI acknowledge obligations to Dr. David Mackinlay of Glasgow, Dr. Lauder\nLindsay of Perth, and several other friends who have visited Iceland and\nrendered me assistance of various kinds. Thanks are also due to Mr. P.\nL. Henderson, for transmitting, by the _Arcturus_, letters, books and\nnewspapers to and from the north.\n\nThe APPENDIX comprises thirteen Icelandic stories and fairy tales\ntranslated by the Rev. Olaf P\u00e1lsson; specimens of old Icelandic poetry;\npoems on northern subjects in English and Icelandic; information for\nintending tourists; a glossary; and lastly, a chapter on our\nScandinavian ancestors\u2014treating of race, history, characteristics,\nlanguage and tendencies. This paper, originally intended for an\nintroduction, may be perused either first or last, at the option of the\nreader. There is also a copious INDEX to the volume.\n\nThe illustrations, engraved by Mr. W. J. Linton, are all from original\ndrawings by the writer, with the exception of half a dozen,[1] taken\nfrom plates in the large French folio which contains the account of\nGaimard\u2019s Expedition.\n\nShould these pages induce photographers and other artists to visit this\nstrange trahytic island resting on an ocean of fire in the lone North\nSea, or students to become familiar with its stirring history and grand\nold literature, I shall feel solaced, under a feeling almost akin to\nregret, that this self-imposed task\u2014which, in spite of sundry vexatious\ndelays and interruptions, has afforded me much true enjoyment\u2014should at\nlength have come to an end.\n\n A.J.S.\n\nMAY 1862.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n Nos. 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, and 31.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS.\n\n\n -------\n\n PAGE\n PREFACE v\n LEITH TO THORSHAVN 1\n WESTMANNA ISLANDS\u2014REYKJAVIK 35\n RIDE TO THE GEYSERS 69\n REYKJAVIK 143\n J\u00d6KUL-RANGES AND VOLCANOES ON THE SOUTH COAST 160\n K\u00d6TLUGJ\u00c1\u2019S ERUPTIONS 163\n ICELANDIC STATISTICS 180\n ERUPTION OF SKAPT\u00c1R J\u00d6KUL 187\n VOLCANIC HISTORY OF ICELAND 193\n THE EAST COAST. BREIDAMERKR\u2014SEYDISFIORD 197\n SEYDISFIORD, BY FAR\u00d6E, TO LEITH 208\n\n APPENDIX.\n\n I. ICELANDIC STORIES AND FAIRY TALES\n STORIES OF S\u00c6MUNDUR FRODI CALLED THE LEARNED.\n I. The dark School 219\n II. S\u00e6mund gets the living of Oddi 221\n III. The Goblin and the Cowherd 222\n IV. Old Nick made himself as little as he was able 224\n V. The Fly 224\n VI. The Goblin\u2019s Whistle 225\n FAIRY TALES\n Biarni Sveinsson and his sister Salv\u00f6r 226\n Una the Fairy 235\n Gilitrutt 240\n Hildur the Fairy Queen 244\n A Clergyman\u2019s daughter married to a Fairy Man 253\n The Clergyman\u2019s daughter in Prestsbakki 256\n The Changeling 257\n\n II. SPECIMENS OF OLD ICELANDIC POETRY\n From the \u201cV\u00f6lusp\u00e1\u201d 260\n From the \u201cS\u00f3lar Lj\u00f3d\u201d or \u201cSun Song\u201d 262\n From the Poems relating to Sigurd & Brynhild 265\n \u201cThe H\u00e1vam\u00e1l\u201d or \u201cHigh Song of Odin\u201d 265\n\n III. POEMS ON NORTHERN SUBJECTS\n The Lay of the Vikings, by M.S.E.S. 278\n Do. Translated into Icelandic by the Rev. Olaf P\u00e1lsson 279\n The Viking\u2019s Raven, by M.S.E.S. 281\n Death of the Old Norse King, by A.J.S. 286\n Do. Translated into Icelandic by the Rev. Olaf P\u00e1lsson 287\n\n IV. INFORMATION FOR INTENDING TOURISTS 289\n\n V. GLOSSARY 292\n\n VI. CHAPTER ON OUR SCANDINAVIAN ANCESTORS 293\n\n INDEX 309\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n -------\n\n PAGE\n\n 1. The Great Geyser in Eruption Frontispiece.\n\n 2. Little Dimon\u2014Far\u00f6e 1\n\n 3. Foola 10\n\n 4. Naals\u00f6e 15\n\n 5. Thorshavn, the capital of Far\u00f6e 20\n\n 6. Fort, at Thorshavn 23\n\n 7. From Thorshavn\u2014showing Far\u00f6ese Boats 27\n\n 8. Hans Petersen; a Far\u00f6ese boatman 28\n\n 9. Basalt Caves\u2014South point of Stromoe 32\n\n 10. Portland Huk\u2014looking south 35\n\n 11. Needle Rocks or Drongs\u2014off Portland Huk 38\n\n 12. Bjarnarey 43\n\n 13. Westmanna Skerries 43\n\n 14. Cape Reykjanes\u2014showing Karl\u2019s Klip (cliff) 45\n\n 15. Coast near Reykjavik 45\n\n 16. Eldey 46\n\n 17. Icelandic shoes, snuff-box, distaff, head-dress, & 53\n fishermen\u2019s two-thumbed mits\n\n 18. Reykjavik, from behind the town 67\n\n 19. Icelandic Lady in full dress, from a Photograph 68\n\n 20. View on the Route to Thingvalla 69\n\n 21. Ravine 73\n\n 22. Descent into the Almannagj\u00e1 81\n\n 23. Almannagj\u00e1 82\n\n 24. Fording the Oxer\u00e1 83\n\n 25. Priest\u2019s House at Thingvalla 84\n\n 26. Althing and L\u00f6gberg from behind the church 87\n\n 27. Lake of Thingvalla from the L\u00f6gberg 89\n\n 28. Waterfall of the Oxer\u00e1 as seen from the L\u00f6gberg 90\n\n 29. Vent of Tintron 94\n\n 30. Cinder-range of Vari-coloured Hills 95\n\n 31. Crossing the Bruar\u00e1 104\n\n 32. The Great Geyser 129\n\n 33. Skapt\u00e1r J\u00f6kul 134\n\n 34. Mount Hekla 135\n\n 35. Lake of Thingvalla from the north-west 139\n\n 36. Icelandic Farm, two hours\u2019 ride from Reykjavik 142\n\n 37. Music in an Icelandic home (playing the langspiel) 145\n\n 38. Common Gull (_Larus canus_) 159\n\n 39. Or\u00e6fa J\u00f6kul, the highest mountain in Iceland 160\n\n 40. Sn\u00e6fell J\u00f6kul, from fifty miles at sea 161\n\n 41. Part of Myrdals J\u00f6kul and K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 range 184\n\n 42. Or\u00e6fa J\u00f6kul, from the sea 185\n\n 43. Entrance to Reydarfiord\u2014east coast 197\n\n 44. Near the entrance to Hornafiord 198\n\n 45. Mr. Henderson\u2019s Factory at the head of Seydisfiord 202\n\n 46. Farm House, Seydisfiord 206\n\n 47. Seydisfiord, looking east towards the sea 207\n\n 48. Brimn\u00e6s Fjall 208\n\n 49. Naals\u00f6e\u2014Far\u00f6e 212\n\n 50. Entrance to the Sound leading to Thorshavn 213\n\n 51. Stromoe\u2014Far\u00f6e, looking north-east from below the Fort at 216\n Thorshavn\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE DIMON\u2014FAR\u00d6E.]\n\n PEN AND PENCIL SKETCHES\n\n OF\n\n FAR\u00d6E AND ICELAND.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n LEITH TO THORSHAVN.\n\n\nCan Iceland\u2014that distant island of the North Sea, that land of Eddas and\nSagas, of lava-wastes, snow-j\u00f6kuls, volcanoes, and boiling geysers\u2014be\nvisited during a summer\u2019s holiday? This was the question which for years\nI had vaguely proposed to myself. Now I wished definitely to ascertain\nparticulars, and, if at all practicable, to accomplish such a journey\nduring the present season.\n\nThree ways presented themselves\u2014the chance of getting north in a private\nyacht\u2014to charter a sloop from Lerwick\u2014or to take the mail-steamer from\nCopenhagen. The first way seemed very doubtful; I was dissuaded from the\nsecond by the great uncertainty as to when one might get back, and the\nearnest entreaties of friends, who, with long faces, insinuated that\nthese wild northern seas were not to be trifled with. However, the\nuncertainty as to time, and the expense, which for one person would have\nbeen considerable, weighed more with me than any idea of danger. Of the\nmail-steamer it was difficult to obtain any information.\n\nOne morning, when in this dilemma, my eye fell on an advertisement in\nthe _Times_, headed \u201cSteam to Iceland,\u201d informing all whom it might\nconcern that the Danish mail-steamer \u201cArcturus,\u201d would, about the 20th\nof July, touch at Leith on its way north, affording passengers a week to\nvisit the interior of the island, and would return to Leith within a\nmonth. I subsequently ascertained that it was to call at the Far\u00f6e and\nWestmanna Isles, and that it would also sail from Reykjavik round to\nSeydisfiord, on the east of Iceland, so that one might obtain a view of\nthe magnificent range of j\u00f6kuls and numerous glaciers along the south\ncoast.\n\nThe day of sailing was a fortnight earlier than I could have desired,\nbut such an opportunity was not to be missed. Providing myself with a\nlong waterproof overcoat, overboots of the same material\u2014both absolutely\nessential for riding with any degree of comfort in Iceland, to protect\nfrom lashing rains, and when splashing through mud-puddles or deep river\nfordings\u2014getting together a supply of preserved meats, soups, &c. in tin\ncans, a mariner\u2019s compass, thermometer, one of De La Rue\u2019s solid\nsketch-books, files of newspapers, a few articles for presents, and\nother needful things, my traps were speedily put up; and, on Wednesday\nthe 20th of July, I found myself on board the \u201cArcturus\u201d in Leith dock.\n\nIt was a Clyde-built screw-steamer, of 400 tons burden. Captain\nAndriessen, a Dane, received me kindly; the crew, with the exception of\nthe engineer, a Scotchman, were all foreigners. In the first cabin were\neight fellow-passengers, strangers to each other; but, as is usual at\nsea, acquaintanceships were soon formed; by degrees we came to know each\nother, and all got along very pleasantly together.\n\nThere was only one lady passenger, to whom I was introduced, Miss\nL\u00f6bner, daughter of the late governor of Far\u00f6e, who had been south,\nvisiting friends in Edinburgh. Afraid of being ill, she speedily\ndisappeared, and did not leave her cabin till we reached Thorshavn. Of\nour number were Professor Chadbourne, of William\u2019s College,\nMassachusetts, and Bowdoin College, Maine, U.S.; Capt. Forbes, R.N.; Mr.\nHaycock, a gentleman from Norfolk, who had recently visited Norway in\nhis yacht; Mr. Cleghorn, lately an officer in the Indian army; Mr.\nDouglas Murray, an intelligent Scottish farmer, from the neighbourhood\nof Haddington, taking his annual holiday; Dr. Livingston, an American\nM.D.; and Capt. B\u2014\u2014, a Danish artillery officer, _en route_ from\nCopenhagen to Reykjavik.\n\nThere were also several passengers in the second cabin, some of whom\nwere students returning home from their studies in the Danish\nuniversities.\n\nThere was a large boat to be got on board, for discharging the steamer\u2019s\ncargo at Iceland, which took several hours to get fastened aloft on the\nright side of the hurricane deck\u2014with the comfortable prospect of its\ntop-heaviness acting like a pendulum, and adding considerably to the\nroll of the ship, should the weather prove rough.\n\nShortly after seven P.M. we got fairly clear of the dock. Strange to\nthink, as the last hawser was being cast off, that, till our return, we\nshould hear no postman\u2019s ring, receive no letters with either good\ntidings or annoyances\u2014for we carry the mail,\u2014and see no later newspapers\nthan those we take with us! Friends may be well or ill. The stirring\nevents of the Continent, too, leave us to speculate on changes that may\nsuddenly occur in the aspect of European affairs, with the chances of\npeace, or declarations of war.\n\nHowever, allowing such thoughts to disturb me as little as possible, and\ntrusting that, under a kind Providence, all would be well with those\ndear to me, hopefully, and not without a deep feeling of inward\nsatisfaction that a long cherished dream of boyhood was now about to be\nrealised, I turned my face to the North.\n\nA dense mist having settled on the Frith of Forth, the captain deemed it\nprudent to anchor in the roads. During the night it cleared off, and at\nfive o\u2019clock on Thursday morning, 21st July, our star was in the\nascendant, and the \u201cArcturus\u201d got fairly under way.\n\nThe morning, bright and clear, was truly splendid; the day sunny and\nwarm; many sails in sight, and numerous sea-birds kept following the\nship.\n\nBreakfast, dinner, and tea follow each other in regular succession,\nmaking, with their pleasant reunions and friendly intercourse, a\nthreefold division of the day. On shipboard the steward\u2019s bell becomes\nan important institution, a sort of repeating gastronomical chronometer,\nand is not an unpleasant sound when the fresh sea-air has sharpened\none\u2019s appetite into expectancy.\n\nThe commissariat supplies were liberal, and the department well attended\nto by a worthy Dane, who spoke no English, and who was only observed to\nsmile once during the voyage. Captain Andriessen\u2019s fluent English, and\nthe obliging Danish stewardess\u2019 German, enabled us all to get along in a\nsort of way; although the conversation at times assumed a polyglot\naspect, the ludicrous _olla-podrida_ nature of which afforded us many a\ngood hearty laugh.\n\nThe chief peculiarities in our bill of fare were _lax_ or red-smoked\nsalmon; the sweet soups of Denmark, with raisins floating in them; black\nstale rye-bread; and a substantial dish, generally produced thrice a\nday, which, in forgetfulness of the technical nomenclature, we shall\nventure to call beef-steak fried with onions or garlic\u2014that bulb which\nDon Quixote denounced as pertaining to scullions and low fellows,\nentreating Sancho to eschew it above all things when he came to his\nIsland. At sea, however, we found it not unpalatable. There must ever be\nsome drawbacks on shipboard. One of these was the water produced at\ntable, of which Captain Forbes funnily remarked, that it \u201ctasted badly\nof bung cloth\u2014and dirty cloth, too!\u201d But, such as it was, the Professor\nand I preferred it to wine.\n\nThus much of culinary matters, for, with the exception of a few\nsurprises, which, according to all our previous ideas, confused the\nchronology of the dishes\u2014making a literal mess of it\u2014and sundry minor\nvariations in the cycle of desserts proper, the service of one day\nresembled that of another.\n\nThere was only wind enough to fill the mainsail, and in it, on the lea\nside of the boom, as if in a hammock, sheltered from the broiling sun, I\nlay resting for hours. Off Peterhead, we saw innumerable fishing\nboats\u2014counted 205 in one fleet. Off Inverness, far out at sea, we\ncounted as many, ere we gave in and stopped. Their sails were mostly\ndown, and we, passing quite near, could observe the process of the\nfishermen shooting their nets; the sea to the north-east all thickly\ndotted with boats, which appeared like black specks. A steamer was\nsailing among them, probably to receive and convey the fish ashore.\n\nPerilous is the calling of the fisherman! Calm to-day, squalls may\novertake him on the morrow\u2014\n\n \u201cBut men must work, and women must weep,\n Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,\n And the harbour bar be moaning.\u201d\n\nAs the sun went down, from the forecastle we watched a dense bank of\ncloud resting on the sea; its dark purple ranges here and there shewing\nopenings, with hopeful silver linings intensely bright\u2014glimpses, as it\nwere, into the land of Beulah. Then the lights and shadows grandly\nmassed themselves, gradually assuming a sombre hue; while starry\nthoughts of dear ones at home rose, welling up within us, as the\ndaylight ebbed slowly away over the horizon\u2019s rim.\n\n\n_Friday morning, July 22._\u2014Rose at seven; weather dull; neither land,\nsky, nor sail, visible; our position not very accurately known. At four\nin the morning the engine had been stopped, the look-out having seen\nbreakers a-head\u2014no observation to be had. Our course to the North Sea\nlay between the Orkney and Shetland Islands. After breakfast it cleared,\nand on the starboard bow, we saw Fair Isle, so that our course was\nright, although we had not known in what part of it we were.\n\nThere was cause for thankfulness that the Orkneys had been passed in\nsafety. Where the navigation is intricate and requires care at best, our\nchances of danger during the uncertainty of the night had doubtless been\ngreat. The south of the Shetland Isles also appeared to rise from the\nsea, dim and blue, resting on the horizon, like clouds ethereal and\ndreamlike.\n\nAt 11 o\u2019clock A.M., sailing past Fair Isle, made several sketches of its\nvaried aspects, as seen from different points. Green and fair, this\nlonely island lies about thirty miles south-west of the Shetland group,\nand in the very track of vessels going north.\n\nIt has no light-house, and is dreaded by sailors; for many are the\nshipwrecks which it occasions. Before now, we had heard captains, in\ntheir anxiety, wish it were at the bottom of the sea. Could not a light\nbe placed upon it by the Admiralty, and a fearful loss of life thus be\naverted?\n\nThe island contains about a hundred inhabitants, who live chiefly by\nfishing and knitting. They are both skilful and industrious. During the\nwinter months, the men, as well as the women, knit caps, gloves, and\nwaistcoats; and for dyeing the wool, procure a variety of colours from\nnative herbs and lichens.\n\nTrue happiness, springing as it ever does from above and from within,\nmay have its peaceful abode here among those lonely islanders quite\napart from the noise and bustle of what is called the great world,\nalthough the stranger sailing past is apt to think such places \u201cremote,\nunfriended, melancholy, slow.\u201d[2]\n\nEre long we could distinguish the bold headland of Sumburgh, which is\nthe southern extremity of Shetland; and a little to the north-west of\nit, by the aid of an opera-glass, Fitful Head,[3] rendered famous by Sir\nWalter Scott as the dwelling place of Norna, in \u201cThe Pirate.\u201d\n\nLast summer I visited this the most northern group of British islands,\nfamed alike for skilful seamen, fearless fishermen, and fairy-fingered\nknitters; for its hardy ponies, and for that soft, warm, fleecy wool\nwhich is peculiar to its sheep.\n\nGazing on the blue outline of the islands, I now involuntarily recalled\ntheir many voes, wild caves, and splintered skerries, alive with sea\ngulls and kittiwakes. The magnificent land-locked sound of Bressay too,\nwhere her Majesty\u2019s fleet might ride in safety, and where Lerwick\u2014the\ncapital of the islands, and the most northerly town in the British\ndominions\u2014with its quaint, foreign, gabled aspect, rises, crowning the\nheights, from the very water\u2019s edge, so that sillacks might be fished\nfrom the windows of those houses next the sea. Boating excursions and\npony scamperings are also recalled; the Noss Head, with its mural\nprecipice rising sheer from the sea to a height of 700 feet, vividly\nreminding one of Edgar\u2019s description of Dover Cliff, in \u201cLear,\u201d or of\nthat which Horatio pictured to Hamlet\u2014\n\n \u201cThe dreadful summit of the cliff,\n That beetles o\u2019er his base into the sea....\n The very place puts toys of desperation,\n Without more motive, into every brain\n That looks so many fathoms to the sea,\n And hears it roar beneath.\u201d\n\nNor is the much talked of _cradle_ forgotten, slung on ropes, for\ncrossing the chasm between a lower cliff and the Holm of Noss;\u2014a\ndetached rocky islet, the top of which only affords pasture, during the\nsummer months, for some half dozen sheep.\n\nThe curious and singularly-perfect ancient Pictish or Scandinavian\nBurgh, in the Island of Moosa, rises again before me; Scalloway Bay,\nwith its old Castle in ruins, its fishermen\u2019s cots, and fish-drying\nsheds. A high, long, out-jutting rocky promontory too, on which I had\nstood watching the \u201cyeasty waves\u201d far below, as they rolled thundering\ninto an irregular cave, which, in the course of ages, they had scooped\nout among the basaltic crags, and, leaping up, scattered drenching\nshowers of diamond spray. Every succeeding dash of the billows produced\na loud report like the discharge of artillery, the reverberations\nechoing along the shore. In the black creek below, the brine seething\nlike a caldron was literally churned into white foam-flakes, which,\nrising into the air on sudden gusts of wind, sailed away inland, high\noverhead, like a flock of sea-birds. These flakes were of all sizes,\nlarge masses of froth at times floating down, and alighting at our very\nfeet, from so great a height that they had merely shewed as black specks\nagainst the bright sunlight. In lulls one could actually lift them\nbodily from the ground, upwards of two cubic feet in size; but when the\nwind rose, such masses of whipped sea-cream were again seized upon,\nswept aloft, divided into smaller portions, and carried away across the\nisland. These and other pleasing memories presented themselves as we now\ngazed on the distant, dim-blue Shetland Isles.\n\nSaw a large vessel disabled and being towed southwards from Shetland,\nwhere she appears to have come to grief. Topmasts gone, sides battered\nand patched with boards. She is high out of the water, so that the cargo\nmust have been discharged. All our opera-glasses and telescopes are in\nrequisition.\n\n[Illustration: FOOLA.]\n\nSat on the boom for hours, the vessel rolling heavily over the great\nsmooth Atlantic billows. In the afternoon passed the island of Foola,\nwhich has been called the St. Kilda of Shetland. It lies about sixteen\nmiles west of Mainland, and is high and precipitous. The cliffs are\ntenanted by innumerable sea-fowls, which are caught in thousands by the\ncragsmen, and afford a considerable source of revenue to the\ninhabitants.\n\nBlue and cloudlike the detached and isolated heights of Mainland, Yell,\nand Unst\u2014the promontory of Hermanness, on the latter, being the most\nnortherly point of the British islands\u2014are fast sinking beneath the\nhorizon. Ere long Foola, left astern, follows the others. No land in\nsight, not a sail on the horizon; all round is now one smooth heaving\ncircular plain of blue water\u2014the ever changing level producing a most\nsingular optical effect.\n\nIn the evening walked the deck with Mr. Haycock, discoursing of\nNorwegian scenery, and of yacht excursions thither. The evening clear\nand pleasant, although the ground-swell continued to increase. Turned\nin, at half-past ten o\u2019clock. The vessel rolled much during the night.\nProfessor Chadbourne, Mr. Murray, and Mr. Cleghorn\u2019s berths were in the\nsame state-room as mine. The quarter-deck being elevated, one of our\nwindows opened towards the deck, and _could_ at all times afford good\nand safe ventilation; but the stewards always _would_ shut it, watching\ntheir opportunity of doing so when we were asleep. We always opened it\nagain, when on waking we found the deed had been done; and all of us\nmade a point of shouting out ferociously when we caught them stealthily\nat it. This shutting and opening occurred several times every night, and\nseemed destined to go on, spite of all our remonstrances; a nuisance\nonly relieved by a slight dash of the ludicrous. Danes don\u2019t seem to\nlike fresh air.\n\n\n_Saturday morning, July 23._\u2014No land in sight, open sea from Norway to\nAmerica; heavy swell on the Atlantic, and wind changing from N.E. to\nN.W.; numerous whales blowing, quite close to the vessel; gulls and\nkittiwakes flying about.\n\nAt mid-day came in sight of the Far\u00f6e Islands rising above the horizon;\nfixed the first glimpse of them, and continued sketching their outline\nfrom time to time, as on nearing them it developed itself\u2014watching with\ngreat interest the seeming clouds slowly becoming crags. Little Dimon, a\nlofty rock-island, somewhat resembling Ailsa, and purple in the\ndistance, was, from the first, the most prominent and singular object on\nthe horizon line.\n\nThe waves rolling so heavily that not only the hull, but the mast of a\nsloop, not very far off, is quite hid by each long swell. The Professor,\nDr. Livingston, and Mr. Murray all agree in saying that they never had\nsuch heavy seas in crossing the Atlantic.\n\nThe Far\u00f6e group consists of twenty-two islands, seventeen of which are\ninhabited. A bird\u2019s-eye view of them would exhibit a series of bare,\nsteep, oblong hills, in parallel ranges; with either valleys or narrow\narms of the sea between them, and all lying north-west and south-east.\nThe name Far\u00f6e is said to be derived from _faar_ or _foer_, the old word\nfor a sheep; that animal having probably been introduced by the Norse\nsea-rovers long before these islands were permanently colonised in the\ntime of Harold. However, _fier_\u2014the Danish word for feathers\u2014is more\nlikely to be the correct etymology; for these islands are the native\nhabitat of innumerable sea-birds.\n\nThey lie 185 miles north-west of the Shetland Isles, 400 west of Norway,\nand 320 south-east of Iceland; population upwards of 3000, and subject\nto Denmark.\n\nWe are now approaching Suderoe, the most southerly of the islands. On\nour left lie several curious detached rocks, near one of which, called\nthe Monk, is a whirlpool, dangerous in some states of the tide; although\nits perils, like those of Corrivreckan between Jura and Scarba in the\nHebrides, have been greatly exaggerated. On one occasion I sailed over\nthe latter unharmed by Sirens, Mermaids, or Kelpies; only observing an\nirregular fresh on the water, where the tide-ways met, and hearing\nnothing save a dripping, plashing noise in the cross-cut ripple, as if\nmany fish were leaping around the boat.\n\nIn storms, however, such places had better receive a wide berth.\n\nThe approach to the Far\u00f6e group is very fine, presenting to our view a\nmagnificent panorama of fantastically-shaped islands\u2014peaked sharp\nangular bare precipitous rocks, rising sheer from the sea; the\nlarger-sized islands being regularly terraced in two or more successive\ngrades of columnar trap-rock. Some of these singular hill-islets are\nsharp along the top, like the ridge of a house, and slope down on either\nside to the sea, at an angle of fifty degrees. Others of them are\nisolated stacks.\n\nThe hard trap-rock, nearly everywhere alternating with soft tufa, or\nclaystone, sufficiently accounts for the regular, stair-like terraces\nwhich form a striking and characteristic feature of these picturesque\nislands. The whole have evidently, in remote epochs, been subjected to\nviolent physical abrasion, probably glacial, during the period of the\nice-drift; and, subsequently, to the disintegrating crumbling influences\nof moisture, and of the atmosphere itself. Frost converts each particle\nof moisture into a crystal expanding wedge of ice, which does its work\nsilently but surely and to an extent which few people would imagine.\n\nWe now pass that singular rock-island, Little Dimon, which supports\na few wild sheep; and Store Dimon, on which only one family resides.\nThe cliffs here, as also on others of the islands, are so steep that\nboats are lowered with ropes into the sea; and people landing are\neither pulled up by ropes, or are obliged to clamber up by fixing\ntheir toes and fingers in holes cut on the face of the rock.\nSea-fowls and eggs are every year collected in thousands from these\nislets by the bold cragsmen. These men climb from below; or, like\nthe samphire-gatherer\u2014\u201cdreadful trade\u201d\u2014are let down to the nests by\nmeans of a rope, and there they pursue their perilous calling while\nhanging in \u201cmidway air\u201d over the sea. They also sometimes approach\nthe cliffs at night, in boats, carrying lighted torches, which lure\nand dazzle the birds that come flying around them, so that they are\neasily knocked down with sticks, and the boat is thus speedily\nfilled. As many as five thousand birds have been taken in one year\nfrom Store Dimon alone, and in former times they were much more\nnumerous.\n\nWe watch clouds like white fleecy wool rolling past, and apparently\nbeing raked by the violet-coloured peaks; whilst others lower down are\npierced and rest peacefully among them.\n\nHaving passed Sandoe, through the Skaapen Fiord, we see Hestoe, Kolter,\nVaagoe, and other distant blue island heights in the direction of\nMyggenaes, the most western island of the group. We now sail between\nStromoe on the west, and Naals\u00f6e on the east. Stromoe is the central and\nlargest island of the group, being twenty-seven miles long and seven\nbroad. It contains Thorshavn, the capital of Far\u00f6e. Naals\u00f6e, the needle\nisland, is so called from a curious cave at the south end which\npenetrates the island from side to side like the eye of a needle\u2014larger,\nby a long way, than Cleopatra\u2019s. Daylight shews through it, and, in calm\nweather, boats can sail from the one side to the other. We observe a\nsuccession of sea-caves in the rocks as we sail along, the action of the\nwaves having evidently scooped out the softer strata, and left the\ncolumnar trap-rock hanging like a pent-house over each entrance. These\ncaves are tenanted by innumerable sea-birds. On the brink of the water\nstand restless glossy cormorants; along the horizontal rock-ledges above\nthem, sit skua-gulls, kittiwakes, auks, guillemots, and puffins, in\nrows; and generally ranged in the order we have indicated, beginning\nwith the cormorant on the lower stones or rocks next the sea, and ending\nwith the puffin, which takes the highest station in this bird congress.\n\nIf disturbed, they raise a harsh, confused, deafening noise; screaming\nand fluttering about in myriads. Their numbers are so frequently\nthinned, and in such a variety of ways, that old birds may, on these\noccasions, be excused for exhibiting signs of alarm.\n\n[Illustration: NAALS\u00d6E.]\n\nThe Far\u00f6ese eat every kind of sea-fowl, with the exception of gulls,\nskuas, and cormorants; but are partial to auks, guillemots, and puffins.\nThey use them either fresh, salted or dried. The rancid fishy taste of\nsea-birds resides, for the most part, in the skin only\u2014that removed, the\nrest is generally palatable. In the month of May the inhabitants of many\nof the islands subsist chiefly on eggs. Feathers form an important\narticle of export.\n\nWe watched several gulls confidingly following the steamer; one in\nparticular, now flying over the deck as far as the funnel, now falling\nastern to pick up bits of biscuit that were thrown overboard to it. Long\nI stood admiring its beautiful soft downy plumage, its easy graceful\nmotions, the great distance to which a few strokes of its powerful\npinions urged it forward, or, spread bow-like and motionless, allowed it\nsimply to float and at times remain poised in the air right over the\ndeck, now peering down with its keen yet mild eyes, and leaving us to\nsurmise what embryo ideas of wonder might now be passing through its\nlittle bird-brain.\n\nThe Danish officer raised, levelled his piece, and fired; the poor thing\nscreamed like a child, threw up its wings, turned round, and fell upon\nthe sea like a stone; its companions came flying confusedly in crowds to\nsee what was wrong with it, and received another shower of lead for\ntheir pains.\n\nHolding no peace-society, vegetarian, homeopathic &c. views, I do not\nobject to the _bona fide_ clearing of a country from dangerous animals;\nor to shooting, when rendered necessary for supplying our wants;\nbut\u2014from the higher, healthier platform of Christian manliness, reason\nand common sense\u2014would most emphatically protest against thoughtless or\nwanton cruelty. Such barbarism could not be indulged in, much less be\nregarded as sport, but from sheer thoughtlessness in the best; while,\nunder almost any circumstances, the destruction of animal life will, by\nthe true gentleman, be regarded as a painful necessity.\n\nThose who love sport for its own sake may be divided into three\nclasses\u2014the majority of sportsmen it is to be hoped belonging to the\nfirst of these divisions;\u2014viz., the thoughtless, who have never\nconsidered the subject at all, or looked at any of its bearings; those\nwhose blunted feelings are, in one direction, estranged from the beauty\nand joy of existence; and the third and last class, where civilization\nmakes so near an approach to the depravity of savage natures, that a\ntiger-like eagerness to destroy life takes possession of a man and\nbecomes a passion. He then only reckons the number of braces bagged, and\nconsiders not desolate nests, broken-winged pining birds, and the many\ndire tragedies wrought on the moor by his murderous gun.\n\nA study of the habits of birds, taking cognizance of all the interesting\nongoings of their daily lives, of their wonderful instincts and labours\nof love, would, we should think, make a man of rightly-constituted mind\nfeel the necessity of destroying them to be painful; and he certainly\nwould not choose to engage in it as sport. The fable of the boys and the\nfrogs is in point, and the term \u201csport,\u201d thus applied, is surely a\ncruel, and certainly a one-sided word. In low natures, sympathy becomes\ntotally eclipsed and obscured by selfishness; and all selfishness is\nsin.\n\nAlthough shocked at witnessing the needless destruction of the poor\ngull, for the sake of the officer, who was of a gentle kindly nature,\ndoubtless belonging to the \u201cfirst division,\u201d we tried hard to palliate\nthe deed; but that pitiful cry of agony haunts us yet!\n\n \u201cFarewell, farewell! but this I tell\n To thee, thou Wedding guest!\n He prayeth well, who loveth well\n Both man, and bird, and beast.\n\n \u201cHe prayeth best, who loveth best\n All things both great and small;\n For the dear God who loveth us,\n He made and loveth all.\u201d\n\nWhales rising to the surface and spouting around the vessel; also shoals\nof porpoises tumbling and gambolling about; sometimes swimming in line\nso as closely to resemble the coils of a snake moving along; such an\nappearance has probably originated the mythic sea-serpent.\n\nThere are still many caves in the rocks close on the sea; innumerable\nbirds flying out of them and settling on the surface of the heaving\nwater close under the cliffs.\n\nWe now approach a little bay, surrounded by an amphitheatre of bare\nhills; the hollow, for a wonder, slopes down to the shore; we observe\npatches of green among the rocks, and a flag flying. Several fishing\nsloops lie at anchor, but there is no appearance of a town. Here we are\ntold is Thorshavn, the capital of Far\u00f6e\u2014the haven of Thor. As we\napproach, we discover that it is a town, the chief part of it built upon\na rocky promontory which divides the bay; we can also distinguish the\nchurch and fort. The green tint we had observed is grassy turf\u2014but it\nhappens to be growing on the roofs of the wooden houses; and the houses\nare scattered irregularly among the brown rocks. On the promontory,\nhouse rises above house from the water\u2019s edge; and the black, wooden\nchurch tower rising behind appears to crown them all. On an eminence, to\nthe right of the town, is the battery or fort, with a flagstaff in\nfront. All glasses in requisition, we curiously examine the place and\ndiscover several wooden jetties\u2014landing places for fishing boats.\nBeneath the fort and all round, split fish are spread on the rocks to\ndry; many square fish-heaps also are being pressed under boards, with\nheavy stones placed above them.\n\nThe scenery around is not unlike that of Loch Long in Scotland, while\nthe general aspect of Thorshavn itself resembles the pictures of old\ntowns given in the corners of maps of the fifteenth century.\n\nAs we enter the bay with colours flying, the Danish flag is run up at\nthe fort, displayed by the sloops, and flutters from the flagstaff at\nMr. M\u00fcller\u2019s house. This gentleman is one of the local authorities and\nalso agent for the steamer. A cold wind blows down the ravine, boats are\ncoming off, the steam-whistle rejoices on hearing itself echoed among\nthe hills, and the anchor is let go. Now, that we are near it, the town\nappears really picturesque and carries one several hundred years back,\nwith its veritable old-world, higgledy-piggledy quaintness.\n\n[Illustration: THORSHAVN.]\n\n_Saturday night_, 6 P.M.\u2014Went on shore in the captain\u2019s boat, called at\nMr. M\u00fcller\u2019s office\u2014a comfortable new erection\u2014and then separated into\nparties to explore the place. Crowds of men, women, and children,\nstanding at every door, stare at us with undisguised child-like wonder;\nthe men\u2014middle-sized stalwart fellows with light hair and weathered\nfaces\u2014taking off their caps to us as we pass along returning their\nsalutes.\n\n\u201cAn ancient fishy smell,\u201d together with a strong flavour of turf-smoke,\ndecidedly predominate over sundry other nondescript odours in this\nstrange out-landish town. The results of our exploration are embodied in\nthe following jottings, which, at all events, participate so far in the\nspirit of the place as to resemble its ground-plan.\n\nHouses, stone for a few feet next the ground, then wood, tarred or\npainted black, and generally two stories in height; small windows, the\nsashes of which are painted white; green turf on the roofs. The\ninteriors of the poorer sort of houses are very dark; an utter absence\nof _voluntary_ ventilation; one fire, and that in the kitchen, the\nchimney often only a hole in the roof. Yet even in these hovels there is\ngenerally a guest-room, comfortably boarded and furnished. In such\napartments we observed chairs, tables, chests of drawers, feather-beds,\ndown coverlets, a few books, engravings on the walls, specimens of\ningenious native handiwork, curiosities, &c. This juxtaposition under\nthe same roof was new to us, and struck every one as something quite\npeculiar and contrary to all our previous experiences. The streets of\nThorshavn are only narrow dirty irregular passages, often not more than\ntwo or three feet wide; one walks upon bare rock or mud. These passages\nwind up steep places, and run in all manner of zigzag directions, so\nthat the most direct line from one point to another generally leads\n\u201cstraight down crooked lane and all round the square.\u201d Observed a man on\nthe top of a house cutting grass with a sickle. Here the approach of\nspring is first indicated by the turf roofs of the houses becoming\ngreen. Being invited, we entered several fishermen\u2019s houses; they seemed\ndark, smoky, and dirty; and, in all, the air was close and stifling. In\none, observed a savoury pot of puffin broth, suspended from the ceiling\nand boiling on a turf fire built open like a smith\u2019s forge, the smoke\nfinding only a very partial egress by the hole overhead; on the wall\nhung a number of plucked puffins and guillemots; several hens seen\nthrough the smoke sitting contentedly perched on a spar evidently\nintended for their accommodation in the corner of the apartment; a stone\nhand-mill for grinding barley, such as Sarah may have used, lay on the\nfloor; reminding one of the East, from whence the Scandinavians came in\nthe days of Odin.\n\nIn passing along the street we saw strips of whale-flesh, black and\nreddish-coloured, hanging outside the gable of almost every house to\ndry, just as we have seen herrings in fishing-villages on our own\ncoasts. When a shoal of whales is driven ashore by the boatmen, there\nare great rejoicings among the islanders, whose faces, we were told,\nactually shine for weeks after this their season of feasting. What\ncannot be eaten at the time is dried for future use. Boiled or roasted\nit is nutritious, and not very unpalatable. The dried flesh which I\ntasted resembled tough beef, with a flavour of venison. Being\n\u201cblood-meat,\u201d I would not have known it to be from the sea; and have\nbeen told that, when fresh and properly cooked, tender steaks from a\nyoung whale can scarcely be distinguished from beef-steak.\n\nThe costume of the men is curious, and somewhat like that of the\nNeapolitans;\u2014a woollen cap, like the Phrygian, generally dark-blue or\nreddish; a long jacket and knee-breeches, both of coarse home-made\ncloth, blue or brown; long stockings; and thin, soft, buff-coloured\nlamb-skin shoes, made of one piece of leather, and without hard soles,\nso that they can find sure footing with them on the rocks, or use their\ntoes when climbing crags almost as well as if they had their bare feet.\nThere is less peculiarity in the female costume. The men and women\ngenerally have light hair and blue eyes. Honest and industrious, crime\nis scarcely known amongst them.\n\nVisited the Fort, which is very primitive; simply a little space on a\nhill-side, enclosed with a low rough stone wall; four small useless\ncannon lying on the grass, enjoying a sinecure\u2014literally lying in\nclover; a wooden sentry-box in the corner; a flagstaff in front of it,\nand two little cottages behind, to accommodate several of the garrison,\nwho prefer living there to lodging in the town, as their comrades do.\nThere are only some eight or ten soldiers altogether; and these, with\nthe commander, constitute the sole military establishment in Far\u00f6e. They\nappear to occupy themselves with fishing, &c., very much like the other\ninhabitants of the place.\n\n[Illustration: FORT.]\n\nVisited the library, which was established by a former Amptman or\nGovernor. It occupies two rooms, which are shelved all round and\ncomfortably heated with a stove. We observed many standard Danish,\nGerman, French and English books, several valuable folio works of\nreference, and many trashy modern novels. The Far\u00f6ese are inquisitive\nand intelligent, show a taste for reading, but possess no native\nliterature like the Icelanders.\n\nVisited the church, which is built of wood. The service performed in it\nis the Lutheran, as in Denmark. It contains an altar-piece intended to\nrepresent \u201cJoseph of Arimathea with the dead body of Christ,\u201d two large\ncandles, and a silver and ebony crucifix. The galleries, of plain\nunvarnished wood, are arranged like opera stalls, one above the other\nfrom the floor, and with green curtains to each. At the right side of\nthe pulpit were three large sand-glasses, an old custom once common in\nall our churches; fronting the altar was the organ-loft. Everything\nabout the church was neat, clean, and primitive. Flower-beds were\nplanted so as to form wreaths or crosses on the graves in the\nchurchyard; and all appeared to be carefully tended and kept in order by\nloving hands.\n\nWent by invitation of Fraulein L\u00f6bner to drink tea at her mother\u2019s, the\nDanish officer with me. We were ushered into a charming old-fashioned\nroom with low panelled roof; everything in it was neat, scrupulously\nclean, and primitive. A valance of white Nottingham lace-curtain ran\nalong the top of the diamond-paned lattice windows; while a row of\nflower-pots, with blooming roses and geraniums, stood in the\nwindow-sill. There were cabinets with rich old china-ware; several\npaintings on the wall, two of which were really excellent\u2014one, a\nportrait in oil of her late father who had been Governor of Far\u00f6e; the\nother a portrait of her brother, also deceased. Her father was a Dane of\nGerman extraction; and her mother\u2014a kindly old lady to whom we were now\nintroduced\u2014a native of Far\u00f6e.\n\nAt tea we had preserves, made from rhubarb grown in their own garden; a\nsilver ewer of delicious cream highly creditable to Far\u00f6ese dairyship;\nand buns, tarts, almond-cakes, &c., baked by the one baker of Thorshavn,\nand quite as good as could be had in London.\n\nWhile the officer was sketching from the window, our kind hostess wound\nup a musical box, at the same time expressing her regret that the\npiano-forte, which I had observed standing in the room, was under\nrepair. She also showed us a folio of her own drawings, and many\nengravings. Here a lady of cultivated mind, and who has mingled in good\nsociety, is happy and content to dwell in this remote isle; for to her\nit possesses the magic of that endearing word\u2014home!\n\nShe tells us that wool, fish, feathers, and skins form the chief\narticles of export; that barley is the only grain raised in Far\u00f6e, but\nthe summer is so short that it has not time to ripen. The ears are\nplucked by the hand and dried in a kiln. The rye, of which their black\nbread is made, is imported chiefly from Denmark. The hay-harvest is of\ngreat importance to the inhabitants. There are numerous sheep in the\nislands\u2014some individuals possessing flocks of from four to five hundred,\nbesides a few ponies and cows. Dried, the mutton is serviceable for food\nduring winter, when frequent storms interfere with fishing operations.\n\nAs in Shetland, the wool is collected from the sheep by the hand, at the\nseason of the year when they are casting their fleeces; for shearing,\nbesides being a more painful process, would deprive them of the long\nhair so necessary for their protection in an uncertain climate, and\nleave them to shiver exposed to the untempered fury of the northern\nblast. The sheep thus enables the islanders to supply their own home\nwants, and also annually to export many thousand pairs of knitted\nstockings and gloves, together with the overplus raw material.\n\nMiss L. informs us that Thorshavn contains about eight hundred\ninhabitants. Of these, most of the men are fishers when the weather will\nadmit of their going off. The people are very ingenious, and make knives\nof all sizes, with curiously inlaid wooden handles and sheaths. The wood\nfor such purposes is obtained from logs of mahogany, which are\nfrequently found as drift-wood among these islands. We were shewn a\nhome-made fancy work-table, neatly put together in a very ingenious and\nworkman-like manner.\n\nEach man here is a sort of Jack-of-all-trades, from the mending of boats\nor nets, to the killing of sheep and drying them in sheds for the winter\nstore of provisions; from the making of lamb-skin shoes to the building\nof houses, or the manufacture of implements.\n\nMiss L\u00f6bner has kindly and obligingly undertaken to procure some\nspecimens of these manufactures and local curiosities against my return\nfrom Iceland.\n\nGazing round, as we take leave of our kind entertainers, I fix in my\nmind\u2019s eye the lady-like air and quaint point-devise costume of the\nelder lady, who, with silvery hair combed back from her brow, had moved\nabout most assiduously performing all the sacred rites of hospitality to\nher guests; the medi\u00e6val aspect of everything in the room,\u2014from the\nstove to the timepiece, from the polished wooden floor to the panelled\nceiling; the diamond-paned lattice windows, with their old-world outlook\non the town and the flat wooden bridge, close by, which crosses a\nbrawling stream rushing impetuously over rocks from the gully behind;\nthe absolute cleanness and polish of everything; and the monthly roses\nblooming freshly as of old;\u2014all so vividly impress themselves upon my\nmind that the whole becomes a waking dream of other days; and it would\nnot seem much out of keeping, or at all surprising, were the Emperor\nCharles V. himself to open the door and walk into the quaint old\napartment we are now about to leave.\n\n[Illustration: FROM THORSHAVN\u2014SHOWING FAR\u00d6ESE BOATS.]\n\nNine P.M.\u2014Wandered alone by the shore, and sketched the view, looking\nnorth, from beneath the fort; also made a drawing of the bay from the\nwooden jetty; while engaged on the latter, crowds of fishermen gathered\naround me making odd remarks of wonder, the general scope of which I\ncould gather, as they recognised the steamer, boats, hills, &c., coming\nup on the paper; sketched one of the onlookers, an intelligent looking\nfellow, and here he is.\n\n[Illustration: FAR\u00d6ESE BOATMAN.]\n\nThe fishing boats or skiffs, have all the high bow and stern of the\nNorwegian yawl; square lug-sails very broad and carried low are the most\ncommon. The weather is so very uncertain, the gusts so sudden and\nviolent, that, preceded by a lull during which a lighted candle may be\ncarried in the open air, they come roaring down the valleys or between\nthe islands, bellowing with a noise like thunder, and sometimes strip\nthe turf from the hill side, roll it up like a sheet of lead and carry\nit away into the sea, while the air is darkened by clouds of dust and\nstones.\n\nFelt comfortably warm when sketching in the open air between ten and\neleven P.M., for, though the climate is moist, the mean temperature is\nwarmer than that of Denmark, and, on account of the gulf stream, not\nmuch below our own. Forchhammer states that at Thorshavn in mild years,\nit is 49\u00b72\u00b0; in cold years, 42\u00b73\u00b0; the average temperature being 45\u00b74\u00b0.\nThe greatest height of the thermometer during his observations was\n72\u00b75\u00b0, and the lowest 18\u00b75\u00b0.\n\nShortly before eleven o\u2019clock the soldiers of the fort manned their\nboat, and rowed us off to the steamer.\n\nAfter narrating our various experiences on shore, had a pleasant quiet\nhome-talk with Professor Chadbourne, read a few verses of the New\nTestament, and as the week was drawing to a close we retired to our\nberths, wishing each other a good night\u2019s rest after all the novel\nexcitement, wonder, and fatigues of the day.\n\n\n_Sabbath, July 24._\u2014Wind high, and the lashing rain pouring down in\ntorrents. Went ashore at ten o\u2019clock to attend church; heard the\npleasing sound of psalm-singing in various of the fishermen\u2019s dwellings\nas we passed along. Called for Mr. M\u00fcller, who had invited me to his\npew. The service was Lutheran, and began at eleven o\u2019clock. The pastor\nwas absent, but the assistant, M. L\u00fctzen, who is also schoolmaster and\norganist, officiated. All the people, singing lowly, joined in several\nfine old German chorales, led by the organist, who also played some of\nSebastian Bach\u2019s music with much taste and feeling\u2014although little\nindebted to the instrument, which was old and infirm, piping feebly and\ntremulously in its second childhood.\n\nThe area of the church was entirely occupied by women, many of them with\ntheir bare heads, but most of them with a quaint little covering on the\nback part of the head for hair and comb; only saw two bonnets in the\nwhole congregation. One old lady\u2014with her hair combed back, a black silk\ncovering on the back part of her head, and, from where it terminated\nbehind her ears, a stiff white frill sticking right out\u2014looked as if she\nhad just stepped out from one of Holbein\u2019s pictures; others resembled\nGerard Dow\u2019s old women. The men \u201cwere drest, in their Sunday\u2019s\nbest;\u201d\u2014long jackets and knee-breeches of coarse blue or brown cloth,\nfrequently ornamented with rows of metal buttons; stockings of the same\ncolours; and the never-varying buff-coloured lamb-skin shoes.\n\nIt was pleasing to see these stalwart descendants of the brave old\nVikings \u201cthe heathen of the Northern sea,\u201d\u2014these men whose daily\navocations exposed them to constant perils by sea and land, here, in the\nvery haven of Thor, walking reverently into a Christian church, with\ntheir caps and Bibles in their hands, and quietly entering their pews to\nworship God.\n\nAlthough the day was very wet, and the regular minister absent, there\nwas present a congregation of about two hundred; and all seemed truly\ndevotional during the service.\n\nFrom the roof, between two old-fashioned brass chandeliers, was\nsuspended a brig, probably the gift of some sailor preserved from\nshipwreck. The service began at eleven o\u2019clock, and ended at half-past\ntwelve. When it was over, I spoke with Skolare L\u00fctzen, who had\nofficiated. He is a native of Copenhagen, speaks little English, but\ngood German. He took me over the building, and into the pulpit.\nAltogether, the quaint appearance of the church, the organ, the singing\nof the people, the devout reading and simplicity of the service, and the\ncurious old costumes carried one back to the time of the Reformation,\nand to me all was singularly interesting. One could fancy that here, if\nanywhere, the European world had stood still, and that Luther himself\nwould not have detected the lapse of centuries, if permitted once more\nto gaze on such a scene as was here presented.\n\nTwo of us accompanied Mr. M\u00fcller to his house before going on board the\nsteamer. His wife and daughter were hospitable and kind; and, as usual\non a visit here, tarts, cakes, and wine were produced. His home\nresembles a museum, containing many stuffed birds, eggs, geological\nspecimens and other natural curiosities collected in these islands. His\nlittle son\u2019s name is Erasmus.\n\nCaptain Andriessen had wished to sail to-day, but could not get men to\nwork on Sabbath discharging the cargo; at which I was well pleased, both\nfor the right feeling it indicated on the part of the Far\u00f6ese, and for\nour own sakes. Here we lie peacefully anchored in the bay, enjoying the\nSabbath quiet, while the tempest is now howling wildly outside the\nislands, and the lashing pelting rain is pouring down on the deck\noverhead like a shower-bath.\n\n \u201cSuch groans of roaring wind and rain I never\n Remember to have heard.\u201d\n\nThe rain having abated, ere retiring for the night, walked the deck for\nhalf an hour. Thorshavn, as seen in the strong light and shade of\nevening from the steamer\u2019s deck, has truly a most quaint old-world\nlook\u2014all the more so now that we know it from exploration\u2014so very\nprimitive that one can scarcely imagine anything like it. It is unique.\n\n[Illustration: BASALT CAVES\u2014SOUTH POINT OF STROMOE.]\n\n_Monday morning, July 25._\u2014From an early hour, all hands busily occupied\ndischarging the cargo, heavily-laden boats following each other to the\nshore. At half-past one o\u2019clock, the last boat pushes off, the\nsteam-whistle is blown, and we sail away round the south point of\nStromoe, shaping our course north-west through Hestoe Fiord. The coast\nof the islands is abrupt, mostly rising sheer from the sea; many\nbasaltic columns, and a succession of wave-worn caves, in front of which\ncountless sea-birds are flying, swimming and diving. The trap hills are\nregularly terraced like stairs. Clouds drifting among the hills, and\nfrom every gully cataracts leaping down in white foam to the sea. The\ngeneral colour of the rocks is gray and brown, slightly touched here and\nthere with green. These islands might be characterized as several groups\nor chains of hills, lying nearly parallel to each other and separated by\nnarrow arms of the sea, which run in straight lines north-west and\nsouth-east. The summits of the larger islands reach an elevation of from\none to two thousand feet; while the highest hill\u2014Slattaretind, near Eide\nin Oesteroe\u2014is two thousand nine hundred feet high.\n\nThe hills around still exhibit a succession of grassy declivities,\nalternating with naked walls of black or brown rock. The flat heights of\nthese islands, we are told, are either bare rock or marshy hollows.\nThere are also several small lakes, the largest of which, in Vaagoe, is\nonly two miles in circumference, and lies surrounded by wild rugged\nmountain masses.\n\nWe count a dozen foaming cataracts, all in sight at once, and falling\ndown over precipitous rocks around us into the sea. The wind perceptibly\nsways them hither and thither, and then dispersing the lower portion of\nthe water raises it in silvery clouds of vapour on which rainbows play.\nThey resemble the Staubach in Switzerland; and remind us of the wild\nmist-veil apparition of K\u00fchleborn, in the charming story of Undine.\n\nThe tidal currents, in the long narrow straits which divide the northern\nislands from each other, are strong but regular; running six hours the\none way and six hours the other. Boatmen must calculate and wait for the\nstream, as the oar is powerless against it.\n\nThe atmospheric effects are beautiful;\u2014a bold headland, ten miles to the\nsouth, appears in the bright sunshine to be of the deepest violet\ncolour; no magic of the pencil could approach such a tint. It is\nheightened too by the white gleaming sail of a fishing smack relieved\nagainst it.\n\nWhen we got clear of the islands, the ground-swell became much heavier;\nfor the storm of the preceding day had been terrific. Great heavy waves\nof smooth unbroken water, worse than Spanish rollers; boat tumbling and\nplunging about, with sail set to steady her; walked the deck for an hour\nand found use for my sea-legs.\n\nSeveral gulls follow the ship; I never tire of watching their graceful\nmotions, as, with white downy plumage and wings tipt with black, they\nfly forward round the mast, remain poised over the deck, or fall astern\nkeeping in the steamer\u2019s wake. Two of our companions have discovered a\ncapital sheltered nook and sit smoking, perched up inside the large\ninverted boat which we are taking north with us.\n\nAn Icelander and a Dane are among the second-class passengers; got them\nto read aloud to me Icelandic and Danish, also Greek and Latin. In\npronouncing the latter two, they follow the classic mode and give the\nbroad vowel sounds, as taught in the German and Scottish universities\nbut not at Oxford or Cambridge.\n\nThe dim Far\u00f6es are fast falling astern\u2014\n\n \u201cFar-off mountains turn\u00e9d into clouds.\u201d\n\nThe vessel by the log makes eight knots\u2014course, N. by W. and sails set.\n\nThe day lengthens as we go north, and at midnight I can now see to read\nlarge print, although the sky is very cloudy.\n\nNo land\u2014no sail in sight; we heave over the billows of the lonely\nNorthern Sea, and now all is clear before us for Iceland!\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n Reduced to extreme destitution, by the failure of crops, subscriptions\n are at present (1862) being collected to enable the inhabitants of\n Fair Isle to emigrate.\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n The original name is Fitfiel\u2014probably the white mountain\u2014_fit_\n signifying white, and _fiel_, fell or mountain. In the same way\n England was called _Albion_, from its white cliffs.\n\n[Illustration: PORTLAND HUK.]\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n THE WESTMANNA ISLANDS\u2014REYKJAVIK.\n\n\n_Tuesday morning, July 26._ Open sea and not a sail visible, although we\ncarefully scan \u201cthe round ocean.\u201d\n\nTremendous rolling all night; everything turning topsy-turvy and being\nknocked about\u2014my portmanteau, which was standing on the cabin floor,\ncapsized. Only by dint of careful adjustment and jambing in the form of\nthe letter z could we prevent ourselves from being shot out of our\nberths.\n\nTo-day we have the heaviest rolling I ever experienced. It is impossible\neven to sit on the hurricane deck without holding on by a rope, and not\neasy even with such assistance. Deck at an angle of 40 to 45\u00b0. The boat\nfastened aloft aggravates matters. A very little more, or the slightest\nshifting of the cargo, would throw us on our beam ends. The boat getting\nloose from its fastenings when we are on the larboard roll would break\noff the funnel. The Captain has hatchets ready, at once to send it\noverboard or break it up if requisite for our safety. The bell tolling\nwith the roll of the ship, first on the one side, and then on the other;\ngenerally four or five times in succession. A series of large rollers\nalternate with lesser waves; the bell indicates the former. Waves\nwithout wind roll in from the N. and N.W., both on the starboard and\nport bow.\n\nIn the afternoon saw a piece of wreck\u2014mast and cordage\u2014floating past,\nmost likely a record of woe; involving waiting weary hearts that will\nnot die.\n\nNot a speck on the whole horizon line; a feeling of intense loneliness\nwould at times momentarily creep over us. Birds overhead flying south\nbrought to mind Bryant\u2019s beautiful poem addressed to \u201cThe Waterfowl,\u201d\nwhich he describes as floating along darkly painted on the crimson sky:\n\n \u201cThere is a Power whose care\n Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,\u2014\n The desert and illimitable air\n Lone wandering but not lost.\n\n Thou\u2019rt gone, the abyss of heaven\n Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart,\n Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,\n And shall not soon depart.\n\n He, who from zone to zone\n Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,\n In the long way that I must tread alone\n Will lead my steps aright.\u201d\n\nThe heavy rolling still continues. Hope the cargo will keep right, or we\nshall come to grief. Thought of the virtues of my friends. However,\nmaugre a dash of danger, a group of us on the hurricane deck really\nenjoyed the scene as if we had been veritable Mother Carey\u2019s chickens.\nOne sang Barry Cornwall\u2019s song \u201cThe Sea;\u201d another by way of contrast\ngave us \u201cAnnie Laurie\u201d and \u201cScots wha hae wi\u2019 Wallace bled;\u201d and towards\nevening we all joined in singing \u201cYork;\u201d that grand old psalm tune\nharmonizing well with the place and time\u2014\n\n \u201cThe setting sun, and music at the close!\u201d\n\nThe gulf-stream and the rollers meeting make a wild jumble. Barometer\nvery low\u201428^{10}; low enough for a hurricane in the tropics. Stormy\nrocking in our sea-cradle all day and all night.\n\n\n_Wednesday, July 27._\u2014Vessel still rolling as much as ever. Saw a skua\u2014a\nblack active rapacious bird, a sort of winged pirate\u2014chasing a gull\nwhich tried hard to evade it by flying, wavering backwards and forwards,\nzig-zagging, doubling, now rising and now falling, till at last, wearied\nout and finding escape impossible, it disgorged and dropt a fish which\nthe skua pounced upon, picking it up before it could reach the surface\nof the sea. The fish alone had been the object of the skua\u2019s pursuit.\nThe skua is at best but a poor fisher and takes this method of supplying\nits wants at second hand. Subsequently we often observed skuas following\nthis their nefarious calling; unrelentingly chasing and attacking the\ngulls until they gave up their newly caught fish, when they were at once\nleft unmolested and allowed to go in peace; but whether the sense of\nwrong or joy at escape predominated, or with what sort of feelings and\nin what light the poor gulls viewed the transaction, a man would require\nto be a bird in order to form an adequate idea.\n\nWe cannot now be far from Iceland, but clouds above and low thick mists\naround preclude the possibility of taking observations or seeing far\nbefore us. In clear weather we are told that the high mountains are\nvisible from a distance of 100 or 150 miles at sea.\n\nAt half-past Three o\u2019clock P.M., peering hard through the mist, we\ndiscover, less than a mile ahead, a white fringe of surf breaking on a\nlow sandy shore for which we are running right stem on. It is the south\nof Iceland; dim heights loom through the haze; the vessel\u2019s head is\nturned more to the west and we make for sailing, in a westerly direction\nwith a little north in it, along the shore up the western side of the\nisland which in shape somewhat resembles a heart.\n\n[Illustration: NEEDLE ROCKS\u2014OFF PORTLAND HUK.]\n\nThe mist partially clears off and on our right we sight Portland Huk,\nthe most southern point of Iceland. Here rocks of a reddish brown colour\nrun out into the sea rising in singular isolated forms like castellated\nbuildings; one mass from a particular point of view exactly resembles\nthe ruins of Iona, even to the square tower; other peaks are like\nspires. Strange fantastic needle-like rocks or drongs shoot up into the\nair\u2014the Witches\u2019 fingers (Trollkonefinger) of the Northmen. The headland\nexhibits a great arched opening through which, we were told, at certain\nstates of the tide, the steamer could sail if her masts were lowered. It\nis called Dyrh\u00f3laey\u2014the hill door\u2014and from it the farm or village close\nby is named Dyrh\u00f3lar. Behind these curious rocks appeared a range of\ngreenish hills mottled with snow-patches, their white summits hid in the\nrolling clouds.\n\nThere are numerous waterfalls; glaciers\u2014the ice of a pale whity-green\ncolour\u2014fill the ravines and creep down the valleys from the J\u00f6kuls to\nthe very edge of the water. Their progressive motion here is the same as\nin Switzerland, and large blocks of lava are brought down imbedded in\ntheir moraine. I perceived what I thought to be curved lines on the\nsurface like the markings on mother-of-pearl, indicating that the\ndownward motion of a glacier is greater in the centre than where impeded\nby friction at the sides.\n\nOn the shoulders of the range of heights along the coast, snow,\nbrown-coloured patches and green-spots were all intermingled; while the\nupper mountain regions of perpetual snow were meanwhile for the most\npart hid in clouds which turban-like swathed their brows in fleecy\n\u201cfolds voluminous and vast.\u201d\n\nThe steamer is running, at nine knots, straight for the Westmanna\nIslands, where a mail is to be landed. They lie off the coast nearly\nhalf way between Portland Huk, the south point, and Cape Reykjanes the\nsouth-west point of Iceland.\n\nHow gracefully the sea-birds skim the brine, taking the long\nwave-valleys, disappearing and reappearing amongst the great heaving\nbillows. We note many waterfalls leaping from the mountain sides to the\nshore, and at times right into the sea itself, from heights apparently\nvarying from two to four hundred feet.\n\nWe now approach the Westmanna Islands, so called from ten Irish\nslaves\u2014westmen\u2014who in the year A.D. 875 took refuge here after killing\nThorleif their master. They are a group of strange fantastically shaped\nislets of brown lava-rock; only three or four however have any\nappearance of grass upon them, and but one island, Heimaey\u2014the home\nisle, is inhabited. The precipitous rock-cliffs are honeycombed with\nholes and caves which are haunted by millions of birds. These thickly\ndot the crevices with masses of living white; hover like clouds in the\nair, and swarm the waters around like a fringe\u2014resting, fluttering, or\ndiving, by turns.\n\nWestmannshavn, the harbour of the islands, is a bay on the north-west of\nHeimaey where a green vale slopes down to the sea. It is sheltered by\nthe islands of Heimaklettur on the North, and Bjarnarey on the East. We\nobserved a flag flying, and a few huts scattered irregularly and\nsparsely on the slope. This place is called Kaupstadr\u2014or head town\u2014but\nthere is no other town in the group. The roofs of the huts were covered\nwith green sod and scarcely to be distinguished from the grass of the\nslope on which they stood save by the light blue smoke which rose\ncurling above them from turf fires.\n\nA row-boat came off for the mail, which, we were told, had never before\nbeen landed here from a steamer; the usual mode is to get it from\nReykjavik in a sailing vessel. For those accustomed to at least half a\ndozen deliveries of letters every day, it was strange to think that here\nthere were fewer posts in a whole year. These Islands have, on account\nof their excellent fisheries, from very remote periods been much\nfrequented by foreign vessels. Before the discovery of Newfoundland,\nBritish merchants resorted hither, and also to ports on the west coast\nof Iceland, to exchange commodities and procure dried stock-fish.\nIcelandic ships also visited English ports. This intercommunication can\nbe distinctly traced back to the time of Henry III.; but by the\nbeginning of the fifteenth century it had become regular and had risen\nto importance. It was matter of treaty between Norway and England; but,\nwith or without special licenses, or in spite of prohibitions\u2014sometimes\nwith the connivance and permission of the local authorities, and at\nother times notwithstanding the active opposition of one or both\ngovernments\u2014the trade being mutually profitable to those engaged in it\ncontinued to be prosecuted. English tapestry and linen are mentioned in\nold Icelandic writings, and subsequently we learn that English strong\nale was held in high estimation by the Northmen.\n\nEdward III. granted certain privileges and exemptions to the fishermen\nof Blacknie and Lyne in Norfolk on account of their Icelandic commerce.\nIn favourable weather the distance could be run in about a fortnight.\n\nFrom Icelandic records we learn that in the year A.D. 1412, \u201c30 ships\nengaged in fishing were seen off the coast at one time.\u201d \u201cIn A.D. 1415\nthere were no fewer than 6 English merchant ships in the harbour of\nHafna Fiord alone.\u201d\n\nNotwithstanding the proclamations and prohibitions both of Eric and\nHenry V. the traffic still continued to increase; and we incidentally\nlearn that in the year A.D. 1419 \u201cTwenty-five English ships were wrecked\non this coast in a dreadful snow-storm.\u201d Goods supplied to the natives\nthen, as in later times, were both cheaper and better than could be\nobtained from the Danish monopolists. It will be remembered by the\nreader that when Columbus visited Iceland he sailed in a bark from the\nport of Bristol.\n\nGazing on this singular group of rocky Islands, on the coast of Iceland,\nso lone and quiet, and reverting to the early part of the thirteenth\ncentury, it was strange to realize that into this very bay had then\nsailed and cast anchor the ships of our enterprising countrymen\u2014quaint\nold-fashioned ships, such as we may still see represented in illuminated\nMSS. of the period; and that their latest news to such English merchants\nor fishermen as had wintered or perhaps been stationed for some time at\nWestmannshavn\u2014supposing modern facilities for the transmission of\nnews\u2014would not have been the peace of Villafranca but the confirmation\nof Magna Charta;\u2014instead of the formation of volunteer corps, nobles\nhastening to join the fifth Crusade;\u2014not the treading out of a Sepoy\nrevolt, but Mongolian hordes overrunning the Steppes of Russia;\u2014and\ninstead of some important law-decision, celebrated trial, or case in\nChancery, they might hear of an acquaintance who had perished in single\ncombat, or who had indignantly and satisfactorily proved his or her\ninnocence by submitting to trial by ordeal. These were the old times of\nFriar Bacon\u2014the days of alchemy and witchcraft. Haco had not yet been\ncrowned King of Norway; Snorre Sturleson was yet a young man meditating\nthe \u201cHeimskringla.\u201d The chisel of Nicolo Pisano and the pencil of\nCimabue were at work in Italy. Neither Dante nor Beatrice as yet\nexisted; nor had the factions of Guelph and Ghibeline sprung into being.\nChaucer was not born till the following century. Aladdin reigned;\nAlphonzo the Wise, King of Leon and Castile, had not promulgated his\ncode of laws. Not a single Lombard moneylender had arrived to settle in\nLondon; and the present structure of Westminster Abbey had not then been\nreared.\n\n[Illustration: BJARNAREY.]\n\nOn leaving Westmannshavn, sailing north between the islands of\nHeimaklettur and Bjarnarey, we saw two men rowing a boat deeply laden to\nthe gunwale with sea-fowls, probably the result of their day\u2019s work. The\ncliffs everywhere alive with birds, and the smooth sea beneath them, in\nthe glorious light of the evening sun, dotted black as if peppered with\npuffins and eider-ducks.\n\nNine P.M. Sketched various aspects of the islands and several of the\nstrange outlying skerries.\n\n[Illustration: WESTMANNA SKERRIES.]\n\nWhen the Westmanna Islands are reckoned at fourteen, that number does\nnot include innumerable little rocky stacks and islets of all fantastic\nshapes alone or in groups; some like Druidical stones or old ruins,\nothers of them far out and exactly like ships in full sail, producing a\nstrange effect on the horizon.\n\nThe island nearest the coast of Iceland on the east of Heimaey is called\nErlendsey; that furthest north-west is Dr\u00e1ngr; and the furthest west\nEinarsdr\u00e1ngr. On the south-west is an islet called Alsey; we have also\nan Ailsa in the frith of Clyde: both names probably signifying\nfire-isle. The islet furthest south is called Geirfuglasker. These names\nare necessarily altogether omitted on common small maps.\n\nWe witness a glorious sunset on the sea,\u2014the horizon streaked with\nburning gold:\n\n \u201cNow \u2019gan the golden Ph\u0153bus for to steepe\n His fiery face in billows of the west,\n And his faint steedes watered in ocean deepe\n Whiles from his journall labours he did rest.\u201d\n\nAlthough the surface of the sea is quite smooth, a heavy ground swell\nkeeps rolling along. A bank of violet cloud lies to the left of the sun,\nwhile dense masses of leaden and purple-coloured clouds are piled above\nit. An opening glows like a furnace seven times heated, darting rays\nfrom its central fire athwart the sky, and opening up a burning\ncone-shaped pathway of light on the smooth heaving billows, the apex of\nwhich reaches our prow.\n\nSuch the scene, as we sail north-west between the northernmost out-lying\nskerries of the Westmanna group and the south-west coast of Iceland and\nsilently watch the gorgeous hues of sunset. Strangely at such times\n\u201chope and memory sweep the chords by turns,\u201d till the past, fused down\ninto the present, becomes a magic mirror for the future.\n\nThe air is mild and warm; time by Greenwich twenty-minutes to eleven.\nThe sun is not yet quite down, and\u2014by the ship\u2019s compass, without making\nany allowance for deviation\u2014is setting due north. At a quarter-past 12\nA.M. when we leave the deck, it is still quite light.\n\n[Illustration: CAPE REYKJANES LOOKING SOUTH.]\n\n[Illustration: COAST NEAR REYKJAVIK.]\n\n_Thursday Morning, July 28._ Rose early\u2014we are sailing along the\nKrisuvik coast in the direction of Cape Reykjanes\u2014smoky cape\u2014which runs\nout from the south-west of Iceland. The low lying coast is of black\nlava; behind it rise serrated hill-ranges, and isolated conical\nmountains; some of a deep violet colour, others covered with snow and\nice, the dazzling whiteness of which is heightened by contrast with the\nlow dark fire-scathed foreground. White fleecy clouds are rolling among\nthe peaks, now dense and clearly defined against the bright blue sunny\nsky\u2014now hazy, ethereal, and evanescent. We observe steam rising from a\nhot sulphur spring on the coast. These are numerous in this\nneighbourhood, which contains the principal sulphur mines of the island.\nHere, where we sail, volcanic islands have at different times arisen and\ndisappeared; flames too have sometimes been seen to issue from submarine\ncraters; this latter phenomenon the natives describe as \u201cthe sea\u201d being\n\u201con fire.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: ELDEY.]\n\nOn our left we pass Eldey\u2014or the Fire Isle\u2014a curious isolated basaltic\nrock resembling the Bass, but much smaller. It rose from the deep in\nhistoric times. The top slopes somewhat, and is white; this latter\nappearance has originated its Danish name \u201cMaelsek,\u201d which is pronounced\nprecisely in the same way as \u201cmeal-sack\u201d would be in the Scottish\ndialect;\u2014in fact the words are the same. Many solan geese flying about;\nwhales gamboling and spouting close to the vessel.\n\nNine A.M., Greenwich time. Got first glimpse of Sn\u00e6fells J\u00f6kul\u2014the fifth\nhighest mountain in Iceland\u2014height 4577 feet\u2014lying nearly in a\nnorth-west direction, far away across the blue waters of the Faxa Fiord.\nA pyramid covered with perpetual snow and ice, gleaming in the sun, its\noutline is now traced against a sky of deeper blue than any of us ever\nbeheld in Switzerland or Italy.\n\nThe Faxa Fiord, situated on the south-west, is the largest in the\nisland, and might be described as a magnificent bay, forming a\nsemicircle which extends fifty-six miles from horn to horn; while its\nshores are deeply and irregularly indented by arms of the sea, or Fiords\nproper, which have names of their own, such as Hafnafiord, Hvalfiord, or\nBorgarfiord. Sn\u00e6fell, on the north side of it, rises from the extremity\nof the long narrow strip of steep mountain promontory that runs out into\nthe sea, separating the Faxa from the Breida Fiord\u2014another large\nbay;\u2014while on the south the Guldbringu Syssel, terminating with Cape\nReykjanes, is a bare low-lying black contorted lava field.\n\nThe Faxa Fiord, then, sweeping in a semicircle from Sn\u00e6fell to\nReykjanes, contains several minor Fiords, and is crowded with lofty\nmountain-peaks, sharp, steep, and bare. The intense clearness of the\nnorthern atmosphere through which these appear, together with the fine\ncontrast of their colours\u2014reds, purples, golden hues, and pale lilacs;\nrosy-tinted snow or silvery-glittering ice\u2014all sharply relieved against\nthe blue sky, as if by magic confound southern ideas of distance, so\nthat a mountain which at first glance appears to be only ten or fifteen\nmiles distant, may in reality be forty or fifty, and perhaps\nconsiderably more.\n\nThe capital of Iceland lies in the south-east of this great bay. We have\nbeen sailing due north from Cape Reykjanes to the point of Skagi, and,\nrounding it, we sail east by north right into the Faxa Fiord, cutting\noff the southern segment of the bay, and are making straight for\nReykjavik.\n\nSeveral low-lying islands shelter the port and make the anchorage\nsecure; one of these is Videy on which some of the government offices\nformerly stood, but it is now noted as a favourite resort of eider ducks\nwhich are here protected by law in order to obtain the down with which\ntheir nests are lined.\n\nSolitary fishermen are making for the shore in their skiff-like boats. A\nFrench frigate and brig, a Danish war schooner and several merchant\nsloops are seen lying at anchor, shut in by the islands and a low lava\npromontory. All are gaily decked with colours. On rounding the point,\nReykjavik the capital of Iceland lies fairly before us. It is situated\non a gentle greenish slope rising from the black volcanic sand of that\n\u201cPlutonian shore.\u201d There are grassy heights at either side of the town\nand a fresh water lake like a large pond behind it. The cathedral in the\ncentre, built of brick plastered brown stone colour, and the windmill on\nthe height to the left, are the two most prominent objects. The front\nstreet consists of a single row of dark-coloured Danish looking wooden\nhouses facing the sea. These we are told are mostly merchants\u2019 stores.\nSeveral of them have flag-staffs from which the Danish colours now\nflutter. All our glasses are in requisition. Numerous wooden jetties\nlead from the sea up to the road in front of the warehouses, and, on\nthese, females like the fish-women of Calais, \u201cwithered, grotesque,\nwrinkled,\u201d and seeming \u201cimmeasurably old,\u201d with others younger and\nbetter looking, are busily engaged in carrying dried fish between the\nboats and the stores. Young and old alike wear the graceful Icelandic\nfemale head-dress\u2014viz. a little black cloth scull-cap, jauntily fastened\nwith a hair pin on the back part of the head. From the crown of this cap\nhangs a silver tube ornament, out of which flows a long thick black silk\ntassel falling on the shoulder.\n\nTwo streets run inland from the front street, and at right angles to it.\nThat on the left contains the Governor\u2019s house, and the residences of\nseveral officials. It leads to the house where the Althing or Icelandic\nParliament now assembles, and where, in another part of the same\nbuilding, Rector Jonson teaches in the one academy of the island. The\nother street on the right contains several shops, merchants\u2019 dwelling\nhouses, the residence of J\u00f3n Gudmundsson, president of the Althing,\nadvocate, and editor of a newspaper. It leads to the hotel, and to the\nresidence of Dr. Hjaltalin, a distinguished antiquarian and the chief\nphysician of the island. In the same direction, a little higher up, is\nthe lonely churchyard.\n\nBetween these two streets, houses stand at irregular intervals, and\nnearly all have little garden-plots attached to them.\n\nOn the outskirts, flanking the town, which in appearance is more Danish\nthan Icelandic, are a few fishermen\u2019s huts, roofed over with green sod;\nand these, we afterwards found, were more like the style of buildings\ncommonly to be met with throughout the island.\n\nAs we cast anchor, the morning sunshine is gloriously bright and clear,\nsea and sky intensely blue, and the atmosphere more transparent than\nthat of Switzerland or Italy. Beyond Reykjavik, wild bare heights rise\nall round the bay; here\u2014mountains of a ruddy brown colour, deeply\nscarred and distinctly showing every crevice; there\u2014snow-patches\ngleaming on dark purple hills; here\u2014lofty pyramids of glittering ice;\nthere\u2014cones of black volcanic rock; while white fleecy clouds in\nhorizontal layers streak the distant peaks, and keep rolling down the\nshoulders of the nearer Essian range.\n\nThe arrival of the steamer is quite an event to the Icelanders. A boat\ncame off from the shore, and another from the French brig, to get the\nmail-bags. We brought tidings of the peace of Villafranca, and heard the\ncheering of the French sailors when the news was announced to them. Dr.\nMackinlay, who had remained, exploring various parts of the island,\nsince the previous voyage of the Arcturus, and for whom we had letters\nand papers, kindly volunteered to give us information about the Geyser\nexpedition. From his habits of keen observation, patient research, and\nkind-heartedness, he was well qualified to do so.\n\nHe recommended Geir Z\u00f6ga, who had accompanied him on board, as a good\ntrustworthy guide. We wished to start at once, so as to make the most of\nour time, but the undertaking was a more serious affair than we had\nanticipated. Ultimately, before landing, we arranged to start next\nmorning at eight o\u2019clock, as the very best we could do.\n\nThe distance to be got over is 72 miles, literally without roads or\nshelter; and mostly over wild rough stony wastes, in comparison with\nwhich the bed of a mountain water-course would be a good macadamized\nroad. Provisions, traps, and everything we require have to be taken\nalong with us.\n\nWe are a party of six; the guide has two assistants; nine riders in all,\neach requires a relay horse, so that eighteen ponies for the riders, and\nsix for the baggage are requisite for our expedition. These have to be\nbargained for and collected together by Z\u00f6ga from the farms around\nReykjavik; and as the ponies now run almost wild over the wastes in\npursuit of scant herbage, and neither receive grooming, stabling, nor\nfeeding, this is a work of time, and will occupy, Dr. Mackinlay tells\nus, not only the whole afternoon but the greater part of the night.\n\nNo one had brought provisions north but myself, so arrangements are made\nwith the steward of the steamer for supplying them, and mine thrown in\nwith the rest pro bono publico. Having fixed that Z\u00f6ga should call in\nthe evening at the hotel and report progress, at half-past 11 o\u2019clock\nA.M. we got into the Captain\u2019s boat to land, where, long ago, Ingolf the\nfirst colonist had drawn his ship on shore. As the remainder of the day\nis at our disposal, curiosity is on edge to explore Reykjavik, the\ngeneral plan and appearance of which has already been described\u2014partly\nby anticipation.\n\nThe sun-glare is oppressively hot. As we approach the jetty we observe\ngroups of men and women standing on the beach to see the passengers\nland. Some of the younger women are good-looking, and become the\npicturesque costume of the country;\u2014those curious little black caps with\nsilver ornaments and long black silk tassels already described; jackets\nfaced with silver lace or rows of metal buttons; belts similarly\nornamented; long flowing dark wadmal skirts of home manufacture; and\nprimitive shoes made of one bit of cow-skin or any kind of hide,\nprepared so as in colour to resemble parchment or the skin one sometimes\nsees stretched like a drum-head over the mouth of a jar of honey.\n\nA few other ladies are in morning dress, with shawls or handkerchiefs\nthrown gracefully over their heads, and nothing peculiar or different in\ntheir costume from what we are accustomed to see at home.\n\nMr. Haycock had received a letter of introduction to Mr. Simson, and I\nhad one to Mr. Sievertsen; the latter is a retired merchant, and the\nformer carries on a large business of a very miscellaneous kind\u2014such\nbeing the character of all the stores or factories here. As the houses\nof these gentlemen both lay in the same direction, we set out together\nin order to obtain advice as to what was to be seen in Reykjavik and its\nneighbourhood. In passing along the front street, the stores\u2014mostly\nbelonging to Danish merchants\u2014presented quite a bustling business\naspect; while the dwelling houses, with lattice windows, white curtains\nand flower-pots of blooming roses and geraniums, exhibited an air of\ncleanliness, comfort and refinement. From the absence of roads, carts\nare useless; one wheel barrow which we saw, belonging to an enterprising\nstorekeeper, we were told, was the only wheeled vehicle in the island.\n\nMr. Sigurdur Sievertsen received us most cordially. This intelligent old\ngentleman conducted Sir George Mackenzie, who was his father\u2019s guest, to\nthe Geysers; and he is alluded to by Sir George, in his travels, as\n\u201cyoung Mr. Sievertsen.\u201d Time works changes! or, as Archbishop Whately\nwould more accurately put it, changes are wrought, not by, but \u201c_in_\ntime.\u201d However, Mr. Sievertsen is hale and hearty, and many summers may\nhe yet see! On the wall we saw the portrait of his gifted and much\nlamented son, who several years ago died in Paris. He had been taken\nthere by Louis Philip to receive a free education, as a graceful\nacknowledgment to the Icelanders for kindness shewn to the crew of a\nFrench vessel wrecked on their coast.\n\n[Illustration: L Men\u2019s shoes. G Girls\u2019 shoes. S Snuffbox made of\nwalrus tusk. H Female-head-dress with flowing silk tassel (see p.\n49). D Distaff. M Two-thumbed mits.]]\n\nOur host has visited Britain, and both speaks and writes English\nfluently. Neither he nor his amiable wife spared any pains in trying to\nbe of service to us. They gave us all manner of information, and kindly\nassisted us in procuring specimens of native manufacture, such as\u2014silver\ntrinkets of beautiful workmanship; fine knitted gloves soft as Angola\nwool; fishermen\u2019s mits with no divisions for the fingers but each made\nwith two thumbs, so that when the fishing line wears through one side\nthe other can be turned; caps; men and women\u2019s shoes; quaint snuff boxes\nmade of walrus tusk, or horn; and sundry other souvenirs which we wished\nto take south with us.\n\nIn Mr. Simson\u2019s store we saw everything from a needle to an anchor; from\nthe coarsest packsheet to French ribbons. At Mr. Smith\u2019s, whose son had\ncome north with us on his way from Copenhagen, we invested in seal-skins\nand eider-down\u2014the latter for pillows and coverlets. This down, the\neider-duck plucks from its breast to line its nest; it and the eggs are\ntaken away. Again the nest is lined, and again robbed. The third time,\nthe drake repairs it, supplying the down; and if this be also taken away\nthe nest is altogether deserted by the ill-used pair. One nest yields\nabout two and a half ounces of the finest clean down, or about half a\npound in all if removed three times. What is plucked from the dead bird,\nit is said, possesses none of that wonderful elasticity which\nconstitutes the value of the other. We should think, however, that this\nwould depend on the state of the plumage at the time. Many thousand\npounds weight of it are annually exported for quilts, pillows, cushions,\n&c. It sells in Iceland at from 10/6 to 17/6 per lb. From three to four\nlbs. are sufficient for a coverlet, which, to be enjoyed in perfection,\nought to be used unquilted and loose like a feather bed. Quilting is\nonly useful where a small quantity of down is required to go a long way;\nbut, with three or four pounds at command, there is no comparison in\npoint of comfort between loose and quilted\u2014we have tried both. The eider\ncoverlet combines lightness and warmth in a degree which cannot be\notherwise obtained. With a single sheet and blanket, it is sufficient\nfor the coldest wintry night. Its elasticity is proverbial; hence the\nIcelandic conundrum we had propounded to us by our good friend Mr.\nJacobson, \u201cWhat is it that is higher when the head is taken off it?\u201d\n_Answer_\u2014\u201cAn eider-down pillow!\u201d\n\nIn walking along we saw some young ladies, in elegant Parisian costume,\nout sunning themselves like butterflies. The thermometer stood at 72\u00b0,\nso, light coloured fancy parasols were in requisition and enjoyed no\nsinecure to-day, even in Iceland. Single days here are sometimes very\nbright and warm, though rarely without showers; for the weather is very\nchangeable, and summer short at best. Less rain falls in the northern\npart of the island than in the southern; because the mountains in the\nsouth first catch and empty the rain clouds floating from the south-west\nover the course of the gulf-stream. For this reason there is more\nsunshine in the north, crops too are heavier and earlier; for,\nnotwithstanding the 3\u00b0 higher latitude, the summer temperature is nearly\nthe same as that of the south. In winter, however, it is colder, from\nthe presence of Spitzbergen icebergs and Greenland ice-floes stranded on\nthe shore, while the sea to the north and east is filled with them. Last\nwinter was very severe: the south and west were also filled. My friend\nDr. Mackinlay has treated this subject\u2014the climate of Iceland\u2014so\nadmirably, that I cannot refrain from quoting his MS. notes:\n\n\u201cThe number and size of the rivers\u201d says he, \u201ccannot fail to strike the\nattention of every visitor who sees much of the country especially along\nthe coasts. The main cause of this is, of course, the abundant rain-fall\nwhich is out of all proportion to the latitude of Iceland.\n\n\u201cThis excess is owing to two causes\u2014The mountainous nature of the\ncountry; and its geographical position. Iceland lies in the direct\ncourse of one of the branches of the gulf-stream. No land intervenes\nbetween it and the Bermudas. The rain-charged clouds from the south-west\nare therefore ready to part with their moisture as soon as they touch\nthe shores of Iceland. As they move northwards, to the back-bone of the\nisland, their temperature diminishes so rapidly that the whole of their\nmoisture becomes precipitated. Winds from the S.W., S., and S.E., drench\nthe southern part of the Island, but bring fair weather to the north.\n\n\u201cAs the southernly winds are the most frequent, the north side enjoys\nthe greatest number of sunny days in summer; and hence vegetation is\nmore luxuriant there, even though the latitude is 3\u00b0 higher, and the\nsouthernly winds are chilled in passing over the great mountain chain.\nThe mean summer temperature of the north is almost as high as that of\nthe south; but the mean temperature of the year is 14\u00b0 lower. In the\nsouth this is 47\u00b0, but in the north it is 33\u00b0. The climate of the south\nis insular in its character, while that of the north is continental.\nSevere continuous frosts are rare about Reykjavik; while along the north\ncoast the winters are very severe. The severity of the winters is mainly\ncaused by the presence of ice in the adjoining seas. The cold Arctic\ncurrent from Spitzbergen, which impinges on the north coast, comes\nfreighted in winter with an occasional iceberg; while the westerly winds\nand the west Icelandic branch of the gulf-stream combine to fill the\nseas to the north and east of the island with ice floes from Greenland.\nIn ordinary winters, the seas to the south and east are open; but in\nextraordinary winters they also are filled. Such a winter was that of\n1858-9. The corresponding winter in Britain was very mild, and owed its\nmildness to the same cause which produced the hard winter of Iceland\u2014the\nunusual prevalence of westerly winds.\n\n\u201cIn the first months of 1859, the sea between Greenland and Iceland\u2014200\nmiles wide\u2014was packed with ice floes; and upon these several bears made\ntheir way across to Iceland. Floating ice surrounded the island; but\nalong the north coast the sea itself was frozen so far out that the\npeople of Grimsey, twenty miles or so from the nearest point of Iceland,\nactually rode across to the mainland. At Akur Eyri in the beginning of\nApril, Reaumur\u2019s thermometer registered 26\u00b0 of cold\u2014a temperature equal\nto 26\u00bd\u00b0 of Fahrenheit. So late as June, seven French fishing boats were\nlost in the ice on the north coast, and a French ship of war nearly met\nwith the same fate. Speaking of northern ice, Captain Launay, of the\nFrench man-of-war referred to, told me that its approach could be\nforeseen at the distance of twenty-five to thirty miles by a peculiar\nreflection of the sky. As the distance diminishes, the sky gets\novercast, the temperature falls rapidly, and fish and sea-fowl\ndisappear. The Greenland ice is much more dangerous than the\nSpitzbergen. The latter is 120 to 150 feet high, massive and wall-sided,\nbut of no great extent. The former is in immense floes, often forming\nbays in which ships are caught as in a snare. It seldom exceeds 40 feet\nin height; but is jagged and peaked. Sometimes drift-timber gets nipped\nbetween the floes, and is set fire to by the violent friction it\nsustains. The sound of the crushing ice was described by Captain Launay\nas most horrible.\u201d\n\nThus much of the climate.\n\nDr. Mackinlay took Mr. Haycock and me to call for the Governor, the\nCount Von Trampe, who is a Dane, and well known for his urbanity to\nstrangers. He kindly introduced us to his family. The house itself\nresembles, and at once suggests pictures we have seen of missionaries\u2019\nhouses in Madagascar. Within doors, however, all is tasteful and\nelegant. One peculiarity is worth noting, viz.: that the walls of his\nsuite of apartments are covered with _French_ portraits, paintings,\nengravings, and lithographs, nearly all presentations. In the public\nroom, I only observed one that was not French. Judging from the walls,\nwe might have been in the residence of a French Consul. French frigates\nare put on this station, year after year, ostensibly to look after the\nfisheries. Great court is paid to the leading islanders, and France\nwould fain be in the ascendant here as elsewhere. Iceland, meanwhile,\ncosts Denmark an outlay of several thousands a year; because, say some\nof the Icelanders, more is not invested in improvements of various kinds\nin order to make it pay. This state of matters would render negotiations\neasy on the part of Denmark, were the acquisition of the island an\nobject to France. It would be an easy method of paying for assistance\nrendered in any Holstein difficulty or other cunningly laid European\nmine that may yet explode; when the cause of justice and right, as it\never is, being declared all on the side of France, she will\ndisinterestedly go forward with her eagles for freedom and glory.\n\nSuch contingencies may arise, although the Danes are our natural allies\nand our Scandinavian brethren. It may be asked, what would the French do\nwith the island? It would be chiefly useful to them for forming and\ntraining hardy seamen for the navy, as they already do to some extent\nboth here and on the Newfoundland coast where the fisheries are\nmaintained and subsidized for that very purpose. It would furnish a\nstation in the North Sea, from which to descend and menace our North\nAmerican traffic; and it contains extensive sulphur mines, which, in the\nevent of Sicily being shut against us, are available for munitions of\nwar in our gunpowder manufactories; in another point of view, it is\ninvaluable, as the great salmon-preserve of Europe.\n\nIntelligent Icelanders who cherish the memory of their ancient freedom,\nto my certain knowledge, regard all such French tendencies and\ncontingencies with decided aversion. But in the event of a transfer\nbeing mooted, would the Icelanders be consulted in the matter? I fear\nnot, and that it would only be announced to them in the French fashion,\nas _fait accompli_: may such however, never be the fate of this\ninteresting island!\n\nThese remarks, although suggested here by the pictures in the Governor\u2019s\ndrawing-room, have no reference, it is right to state, to the Count Von\nTrampe\u2019s views on this subject, which I do not happen to know; nor on\nthe other hand, to the officers\u2019 of the vessels stationed here, who all\nseem to be gentlemanly kind-hearted fellows. A variety of facts and\nobservations, however, all tended to confirm me in this impression;\nbesides, it is the policy which the French are pursuing elsewhere.\n\nFrom the Governor\u2019s, we proceed to call for Mr. Randr\u00f6p, the states\napothecary, and receive a most hospitable, true, northern welcome. We\nmeet several French officers and see the usual quantum of French prints\non the walls. But he is the French consul or agent. Coffee, cakes, and\nwine, are handed round to us _by the ladies_, this being the custom of\nthe country, and in drinking to us, the form is always, \u201cWelcome to\nIceland.\u201d Mr. Randr\u00f6p speaks a little English, and the two young ladies,\nhis step-daughters, are acquiring it. Here, as in Germany, the class\nbook in common use is \u201cThe Vicar of Wakefield.\u201d Madame Randr\u00f6p, who\nspeaks French and German and plays on the piano-forte, shewed us several\nbeautiful silver trinkets, bracelets, pins, &c., of Icelandic\nmanufacture; the style an open mediaeval looking fretwork, that might\nsatisfy the most fastidious artistic taste.\n\nThe Governor\u2019s house and Mr. Randr\u00f6p\u2019s are the two centres of Reykjavik\nsociety, and at one or other of them, of an evening, any stranger\nvisiting these parts is almost certain to be found. One is expected to\nmake quite a round of visits if he be authenticated, or have any sort of\nintroduction to any one of the circle; an omission would even be\nregarded as a slight. Hence Dr. Mackinlay took us to call for a\nconsiderable number of people, all of whom were cordial and glad to see\nus.\n\nOur next visit was to the Rev. Olaf P\u00e1lsson, Dean and Rector of the\nCathedral. Learned, intelligent, communicative and obliging, he at once,\nin the kindest manner possible, placed himself at our service and\noffered us every assistance in his power. In his library I observed many\nstandard works of reference in various languages, and opened several\nvolumes that seemed to recognize me as a friend whom they had met\nbefore: \u201cLord Dufferin\u2019s Letters from High Latitudes\u201d\u2014a presentation\ncopy\u2014\u201cCaird\u2019s Sermons;\u201d \u201cLife of the Rev. Ebenezer Henderson\u201d\u2014the\nIcelandic traveller; \u201cStanley\u2019s Sinai and Palestine,\u201d &c. The worthy\npastor both speaks and writes English fluently, and has translated a\nnumber of Icelandic stories and fairy tales.[4]\n\nThe Pastor\u2019s honest ruddy face, light flaxen hair, and unassuming\nmanner; his rosy cheeked children, the monthly roses in the window-sill,\nand the library\u2014all go to form a pleasing picture in the Walhalla of\nmemory. He afterwards accompanied us to call for Rector Jonson. The\nRector is a good specimen of the genus homo; tall and burly, while his\nactive mind is vigorous, inquisitive, and accomplished. He showed us\nover various rooms, where the different branches are taught, some of\nthem containing cabinets of geological and zoological specimens. The\nschool is supported by government; and about sixty select young men\nintended for the church and other learned professions here receive a\nfree education; a few of them only go to Copenhagen yet further to\ncomplete their studies.\n\nAlthough the island contains 64,603 inhabitants, this, as we have said,\nis the only Academy or College; and there is not a single juvenile\nschool.\n\nThe population is so widely scattered that schools would be quite\nimpracticable; for the six thousand farms which the island contains, on\nthe habitable coast belt which surrounds the central deserts, are often\nseparated from each other by many dreary miles of lava wastes and rapid\nrivers dangerous to ford.\n\nParents, however, all teach their children to read and write by the\nfireside on the long winter evenings, as they themselves were taught;\nand the people are thus home educated from generation to generation, and\ntrained to habits of intellectual activity from their youth. Thus, as a\nmass, the Icelanders are without doubt the best educated people in the\nworld.\n\nFor six centuries the Icelanders have evidenced their love of literature\nby writing and preserving old Sagas and Eddas;\u2014by producing original\nworks on mythology, law, topography, archaeology, &c.\u2014several of these\nat once the earliest and best of their kind in Europe; and by executing\nmany admirable translations from the classics.\n\nSuch literary labours have often been carried on by priests in remote\ndistricts, who subsist on a miserable pittance, and dwell in what we\nwould consider mere hovels,\u2014men who are obliged to work, at outdoor\nmanual labour, the same as any of their neighbour peasants and\nparishoners, in order to keep the wolf from the door. Henderson found\nThorl\u00e1ksson, the translator of \u201cParadise Lost,\u201d busy making hay. His\nliving only yielded him \u00a37 per annum, and the one room in which he slept\nand wrote was only eight feet long by six broad. This translation was\nnot printed till after his death. Verily good work lovingly done is its\nown reward. These men had little else to cheer them on.\n\nWe next visited the Cathedral, which stands in the back part of the\ntown, with an open square space in front of it, and a little fresh water\nlake\u2014inland\u2014to the left. It is a modern edifice, built of brick,\nplastered. At the entrance we were joined by our friend Professor\nChadbourne. The interior is very neatly fitted up with pews, has\ngalleries, organ, &c.; and can accommodate three or four hundred people.\n\nAn oil painting above the communion table represents the resurrection;\nbut the only object of artistic interest is a white marble baptismal\nfont, carved and presented to the Cathedral by Thorwaldsen, whose father\nwas an Icelander. It is a low square obelisk. The basin on the top is\nsurrounded with a symbolical wreath of passion-flowers and roses,\ndelicately carved in high relief out of the white marble. On the front\nis represented, also in relief, the baptism of our Saviour by St. John;\non the left side, the Madonna and Child, with John the Baptist as an\ninfant standing at her knee; on the right, Christ blessing little\nchildren; while at the back, next the altar, are three cherubs, and\nunderneath them is inscribed the following legend: \u201cOpus haec Romae\nfecit, et Islandiae, terrae sibi gentiliacae, pietatis caus\u00e2, donavit\nAlbertus Thorvaldsen, anno MDCCCXXVII.\u201d It is a chaste and beautiful\nwork of art.\n\nIn the vestry the Rev. Olaf P\u00e1lsson opened several large chests, and\nshewed us numerous vestments belonging to the bishop and priests; one of\nthese with gorgeous embroideries had been sent here to the bishop by\nPope Julius II. in the beginning of the sixteenth century. The cloth was\npurple velvet, embroidered and stiff with brocade of gold.\n\nAbove the church, immediately under the sloping roof, an apartment runs\nthe whole length of the building. In it is deposited the free public\nlibrary of Reykjavik, which consists of more than 6000 volumes in\nIcelandic, Danish, Latin, French, English, German, and various other\nlanguages. A copy of every book published at Copenhagen is sent here by\ngovernment, and from time to time it receives numerous presentations\nfrom foreigners. The ancient original Icelandic MSS. have all been\nremoved to Denmark, so that here there is now nothing very old to be\nseen, except what has been reprinted. With great interest we turned over\nthe leaves of a copy of Snorre Sturleson\u2019s \u201cHeimskringla,\u201d and the\n\u201cLandn\u00e1ma Bok,\u201d shewn us by the librarian and learned scholar Mr. J\u00f3n\nArnason.\n\nThe hotel at Reykjavik is merely a kind of tavern, with a billiard room\nfor the French sailors to play, lounge, and smoke in; a large adjoining\nroom, seated round, for the Reykjavik fashionable assemblies; a smaller\nroom up stairs, and some two or three bedrooms. On reaching it we were\nreceived by the landlord and shewn up stairs, where we found Mr. Bushby,\nwho gave us a most courteous English welcome, notwithstanding our\nunintentional intrusion. He had, that morning, when the steamer came in\nsight, set out and ridden along the coast from the sulphur mines at\nKrisuvik\u2014perhaps one of the wildest continuous rides in the world\u2014to\nmeet Captain Forbes.\n\nKnowing the scant accommodation at the landlord\u2019s disposal, he at once\nplaced the suite of rooms he had engaged at our service, to dress and\ndine in, thus proving himself a friend in need. A good substantial\ndinner was soon under weigh, and rendered quite a success by the many\ngood things with which Mr. Bushby kindly supplemented it, contributing\nthem from his own private stores.\n\nMr. G\u00edsli Brynj\u00falfsson, the young Icelandic poet\u2014employed in antiquarian\nresearches by the Danish Government chiefly at Copenhagen, but at\npresent here because he is a member of the Althing or Parliament now\nsitting\u2014joined us at table, having been invited by Dr. Mackinlay. He\nspeaks English fluently, and gave us much interesting information. He\nkindly presented me with a volume \u201cNordurfari,\u201d edited by himself and a\nfriend, and containing amongst other articles in prose and verse,\n\u201cBruce\u2019s Address at Bannockburn,\u201d translated into Icelandic, in the\nmetre of the original. This northern version of Burns\u2019 poem may interest\nthe reader.[5]\n\n BANNOCK-BURN\n \u00c1VARP ROBERT BRUCE TIL HERLITHS SINS.\n EPTIR BURNS.\n\n Skotar, er Wallace v\u00f6rdust med\n Vig med Bruce opt hafid sjed;\n Velkomnir ad bl\u00f3dgum bed,\n Bjartri eda sigurfraegd!\n\n Stund og dagur d\u00fdr n\u00fa er;\n Daudinn \u00f3gnar hvar sem sjer;\n Jatvards ad oss aedir her\u2014\n Ok og hlekkja naegd!\n\n Hverr vill bera nidings nafn?\n N\u00e1 hver bleydu sedja hrafn?\n Falla thrael \u00f3frj\u00e1lsum jafn?\n Fl\u00fdti hann burtu sjer!\n\n Hverr vill hlinur Hildar b\u00e1ls\n Hj\u00f6r nu draga hins g\u00f3da m\u00e1ls,\n Standa b\u00e6di og falla frj\u00e1ls?\n Fari hann eptir mjer!\n\n \u00c1naudar vid eymd og gr\u00f6nd!\n Ydar sona thr\u00e6ld\u00f3ms b\u00f6nd!\n Vjer viljum l\u00e1ta lif og \u00f6nd,\n En leysa \u00far hlekkjum th\u00e1!\n\n Fellid grimma fjendur thv\u00ed!\n Frelsi er hverju h\u00f6ggi \u00ed!\n Sj\u00e1i oss hr\u00f3sa sigri n\u00fd\n S\u00f3l, eda ordna ad n\u00e1!\n\nAfter finally arranging with Z\u00f6ga to start for the Geysers at 8 o\u2019clock\nnext morning, Dr. Mackinlay, Mr. Haycock, Professor Chadbourne and I\ntook a walk through the town, called for Dr. Hjaltalin, who\nunfortunately was not at home, and strolled along to the churchyard. It\nis surrounded by a low stone and turf wall. We gathered forget-me-nots,\ncatch-flies, saxifrage and butter-cups among the grass; observed\nartificial flowers, rudely made of muslin and worsted, stuck upon a\ngrave, but do not know if this is an Icelandic custom or the work of the\nstranger over the last resting place of a comrade.\n\nLooking down upon Reykjavik from the elevation on which we stand all is\nbright in the mellow glare of evening; the windows of the houses gleam\nin the sun like the great jewel of Ghiamsheed; the near Essian mountains\nhave a ruddy glow, and the bay, intensely blue, is gay with vessels and\nflags.\n\nGazing inland all is one wild dreary black lava waste\u2014miles upon miles\nof bog, stones and blocks of rock. Botanized for an hour with the\nProfessor.\n\nOn returning saw several heaps of large cod-fish heads, piled up near\nthe sod-roofed houses of the fishermen in the outskirts of the town. On\nenquiry we were told that the heads of fish dried for exportation are\nthus retained; the people here eat them, and one head is said to be a\ngood breakfast for a man.\n\nMost of the houses in and around Reykjavik have little plots of\ngarden-ground surrounded with low turf walls. In these we generally\nobserved common vegetables such as parsley, turnips, potatoes, cresses,\na few plants for salads, &c.; here and there a currant bush, and\nsometimes a few annuals or other flowers. These, however, seldom come to\nany great degree of perfection, and are often altogether destroyed; for\nthe climate is severe and very changeable, especially in the southern\nportion of the island.\n\n[Illustration: REYKJAVIK.]\n\nThe Governor called at the hotel for Mr. Haycock and me, insisted on us\ntaking the loan of his tent, and kindly invited us to come along and\nspend the evening with him. As we had to start in the morning for the\nGeysers for the present we declined the proferred hospitality, but\npromised to call on our return.\n\n[Illustration: ICELANDIC LADY IN FULL DRESS.]\n\nAs there was not accommodation for us at the hotel, we were rowed off to\nthe \u201cArcturus\u201d by the indefatigable Z\u00f6ga at half-past 10 o\u2019clock at\nnight, and slept on board.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n For a selection of these, see Appendix.\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n Where the two Icelandic letters occur which are wanting in the English\n alphabet, they are here represented, respectively, by d and th.\n\n[Illustration: ROUTE TO THINGVALLA.]\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n RIDE TO THE GEYSERS.\n\n\n_Friday morning, July 29._ Landed from the steamer between 7 and 8\no\u2019clock, and found the baggage and riding horses with the relays,\ntwenty-four in all, assembled at the hotel court; Z\u00f6ga the guide, with\nhis brother and a boy who were also to accompany us, busy adjusting\nsaddles, stirrup straps, &c. For four days we shall be thrown entirely\nupon our own resources, so that provisions, tent, plaids and everything\nwe are likely to need during a wilderness journey, must be taken with\nus. Our traps had been sent on shore late on the previous evening. The\nmode of loading the sumpter ponies is peculiar; a square piece of dried\nsod is placed on the horses back, then a wooden saddle with several\nprojecting pins is girded on with rough woollen ropes; to either side of\nthe saddle, is hooked on, a strong oblong wooden box generally painted\nred; while on the pins are hung bags, bundles, and all sorts of gipsy\nlooking gear. These need frequent re-adjustment from time to time as the\nponies trot along, one side will weigh up the other, or the animals get\njammed together and knock their loads out of equilibrium, the saddles\nthen perhaps turn round and articles fall rattling to the ground. The\nstrong little boxes are constructed and other arrangements made with a\nview to such contingencies, and however primitive, rude, or outlandish\nthey may at first seem to the stranger, he will soon come to see the why\nand the wherefore, and confess their singular adaptation to the strange\nand unique exigences of Icelandic travel.\n\nThe baggage train at length moved off, accompanied by the relief ponies,\nwhich were tied together in a row, the head of the one to the tail of\nthe other before it.\n\nDr. Mackinlay, Mr. Bushby, Mr. Sievertsen, and other acquaintances came\nto see us start. Equipped with waterproofs and wearing caps or\nwide-awakes, no two of us alike, at half-past eight o\u2019clock, a long\nstraggling line of non-descript banditti-looking cavaliers, all in\nexcellent spirits and laughing at each other\u2019s odd appearance, we rode\nat a good pace out of Reykjavik.\n\n\u201cRarely it occurs that any of us makes this journey on which I go,\u201d[6]\nwords spoken to Dante by his guide, in the ninth Canto of the _Inferno_,\nforcibly suggested themselves to me as I \u201centered on the arduous and\nsavage way,\u201d and gazed around on the \u201cdesert strand.\u201d\n\nThe road terminated when we reached the outskirts of the town, and the\ntrack lay over a wild black stony waste with little or no vegetation;\neverything seemed scorched. The relay ponies were now loosed from each\nother, and, perfectly free, driven before us like\n\n \u201cA wild and wanton herd,\n Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,\n Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,\n Which is the hot condition of their blood.\u201d\n\nThey were apt to scatter in quest of herbage, but Z\u00f6ga, when his call\nwas not enough or the dogs negligent, quickly out-flanked the\nstragglers, upon which, they, possessed by a salutary fear of his whip,\nspeedily rejoined their fellows.\n\nWe soon lost sight of the sea, and in a short time came to the\nLax-elv\u2014or salmon river\u2014which we forded.\n\nEnormous quantities of fish are taken at the wears a little higher up\nwhere there are two channels and an arrangement for running the water\noff, first from the one and then from the other, leaving the throng of\nfishes nearly dry in a little pool from which they are readily taken by\nthe hand. The fishermen wear rough woollen mittens to prevent the smooth\nlithe fish from slipping through their fingers when seizing them by head\nand tail, to throw them on shore. From five hundred to a thousand fishes\nare sometimes taken in a day. The fishery is managed by an intelligent\nScotchman sent here by a merchant in Peterhead who leases the stream and\nhas an establishment of some fifteen tin-smiths constantly at work\nmaking cans for \u201cpreserved salmon.\u201d The fish are cut into pieces,\nslightly boiled\u2014then soldered and hermetically sealed up in these tin\ncases containing say 2 or 4 lbs. each, and sent south packed in large\nhogsheads to be distributed thence over the whole world.\n\nThe few grass-farms we saw were like hovels; many separate erections,\nstone next the ground, the gable wood, and the roof covered with green\nsod. The rafters are generally made of drift wood or whale\u2019s ribs. Turf\nis used as fuel; but in common Icelandic houses there is only one\nfire\u2014that in the kitchen\u2014all the year round. The beds are often mere\nboxes ranged around the room, or, where there is such accommodation,\nunderneath the roof round the upper apartment, which is approached by a\ntrap-stair. They are filled with sea-weed or feathers and a cloth spread\nover them. In the farm houses we entered there was a sad want of light\nand fresh air; in fact, these sleeping rooms were so close and stifling\nthat we were glad to descend and rush out to the open air for breath.\n\nThe little bit of pet pasture land, round each farm, enclosed by a low\nturf wall, is called \u201ctun,\u201d a word still used in rural districts of\nScotland\u2014spelt toon, or town\u2014with the same sound and similar\nsignification.\n\nRode many miles through wild black desolate dreary volcanic wastes\u2014no\nnear sounds but the metallic bicker of our ponies\u2019 hoofs over the dry\nrocks and stones, or fearless splashing through mud puddles\u2014and no\ndistant sounds save the _eerie_ cries, tremulous whistlings and\nplaintive wails of the curlew, plover, and snipe. Observed the abrasions\nof the ice-drift very distinctly traced on the rocks, these all running\nnearly south-west. The slightly elevated rock-surface was frequently\npolished quite smooth, scratches here and there showing the direction of\nthe friction by which this appearance had been produced. In some\ninstances the rock was left bare, in others detached stone blocks of a\ndifferent formation rested on the surface.\n\nWild geranium, saxifrage, sedum, and tufts of sea-pink are very common,\nwhen we come to anything green. The wild geranium, from the almost\nnightless summer of the north, is six times larger than in Britain, and\nabout the size of a half-penny.\n\n[Illustration: RAVINE.]\n\nCame to a deep ravine, wild, horrid, and frightful; rode along the edge\nof it, and then through dreadfully rough places, with nothing to mark\nthe track; amidst great and little blocks of stone\u2014trap, basalt, and\nlava\u2014mud-puddles\u2014up-hill, down-hill, fording rivers, and through\nseemingly impassible places; yet the Icelandic horse goes unflinchingly\nat it. Mr. Haycock says it would be sheer madness to attempt such\nbreak-neck places in England; there, no horse would look at it;\nsteeple-chasing nothing to it. His horse was repeatedly up to the girths\nin clayey mud, and recovered itself notwithstanding its load as if it\nwere nothing to pause about. Truly these are wonderful animals, they\nknow their work and do it well.\n\nCame to a grassy plot, in a hollow by a river\u2019s side, where we halted,\nchanged the saddles and bridles to the relief ponies, and, clad in\nmackintosh, thankfully sat down on the wet grass to rest, while we ate a\nbiscuit and drank of the stream. In the course of the day, we had come\nto several green spots, like oasis in the black desert, where the horses\nrested for a short time to have a feed of grass.\n\nAfter starting, ascended for about an hour through a ravine, where we\nsaw some lovely little glades full of _blae-berries_\u2014sloe,\u2014low\nbrushwood, chiefly of willows and birch, and a profusion of flowers,\nsuch as wild geranium, thyme, dog-daisy, saxifrage, sea-pink, catch-fly,\nbutter-cup, a little white starry flower, and _diapensia_; the latter is\nfound, here and there, in round detached patches of fresh green like a\npincushion, gaily patterned with little pink flowers. I am indebted to\nProfessor Chadbourne for the name of it. Obtained a root of this plant\nfor home, and gathered flowers of the others to preserve.\n\nWe now came to an elevated plateau which stretched away\u2014a dreary stony\nmoor\u2014bounded in one direction by the horizon-line and in another by\nhills of a dark brown colour. Here there was not a patch of verdure to\nbe seen; all one black desert lava-waste strewn with large boulders and\nangular slabs, lying about in all conceivable positions. In riding, one\nrequired to keep the feet in constant motion, to avoid contact with\nprojecting stones, as the ponies picked their way among them. Our feet\nconsequently were as often out of the stirrups as in them. Shakspere\nsays \u201cWisely and slow, they stumble that run fast;\u201d not so, however,\nwith the sure footed Icelandic ponies; for, even over such ground, they\ntrotted at a good pace and no accident befell us.\n\nI generally rode first with Z\u00f6ga the guide, or last with Professor\nChadbourne. The driving of the relief horses before us, like a stampedo,\nand the keeping of them together afforded some of us much amusement as\nwe rode along. Here no sheep or cattle could live. It was literally \u201ca\nwaste and howling wilderness.\u201d We saw several snow-birds and terns\nflying about, and often heard the _eerie_ plaintive whistle of the\ngolden plover. These birds were very tame and examined us with evident\ncuriosity. They would perch on a large lava block before us, quite close\nto our track, and sit till we came up and passed\u2014then fly on before, to\nanother block, and sit there gazing in wonder; and so on for miles. They\nhad evidently never been fired at. Mr. Murray humanely remarked that it\nwould be murder to shoot them! In this black stony plateau there was\noften not the least vestige of a track discernible; but we were kept in\nthe right direction by cairns of black stones placed here and there on\nslight elevations. These guiding marks\u2014\u201cvarder\u201d as they are called\u2014are\nyet more needed when all the surface is covered with snow; then, \u201cvexed\nwith tempest loud,\u201d Iceland must resemble Milton\u2019s description of Chaos.\n\n \u201cFar off,\n Dark, waste and wild under the frown of night,\n Starless exposed and ever threatening storms\n Of Chaos blustering round.\u201d\n\nWe saw one rude house of refuge, without any roof, built of lava blocks,\nin the midst of this black desert where everything seemed blasted. Came\nnow on spots where a few tufts of sea-pinks, and many bright coloured\nwild-flowers were springing up among the stones. Saw flat rock-surfaces\nshrivelled up and wrinkled like pitch, an effect which had evidently\nbeen produced when the lava was cooling; others were ground down and\npolished smooth in grooves by the ice-drift. As near as I can calculate,\nsome fourteen or fifteen miles of our journey lay over this one long\nlong dreary stony waste, henceforth, ever to be associated in memory\nwith the plover\u2019s wild lone plaintive tremulous whistle.\n\nAt 3 P.M. we came in sight of the blue lake of Thingvalla,[7] lying\npeacefully in the valley before us; while the range of the hills beyond\nit, bare, bold and striking in their outline, was mostly of a deep\nviolet colour.\n\nDuring the day, arrowy showers of drenching rain \u201ccold and heavy,\u201d like\nthat described by Dante in the third circle of the _Inferno_, or wet\ndrizzling mists had alternated with gleams of bright clear sunshine.\nTowards the afternoon the weather had become more settled and the effect\nof the prospect now before us, although truly lovely in itself, was\nheightened by our previous monotonous though rough ride over the dreary\nstony plateau. The lake far below us, with its two little volcanic\nislands Sandey and Nesey, lay gleaming in the sun like a silver mirror;\nwhile the wild scenery around forcibly reminded us of Switzerland or\nItaly.\n\nThingvalla was to be our resting place for the night, and seeing our\ndestination so near at hand in the valley below us, some one purposed a\nrapid scamper, that we might the sooner rest, eat, and afterwards have\nmore leisure to explore the wondrous features of the place. Forthwith we\nset off at a good pace, but the Professor was too tired to keep up with\nus, so I at once fell behind to bear him company. The others were\nspeedily out of sight. Knowing that dinner preparations would occupy\nZ\u00f6ga for some time after his arrival, we rode leisurely along, admiring\nthe green level plain far below us. When wondering how we were to get\ndown to it, we suddenly and unexpectedly came to a yawning chasm or rent\nrunning down through the edge of the plateau. It seemed about 100 feet\ndeep, 100 feet wide, and was partially filled with enormous blocks of\nbasalt which had toppled down from either side; where more, cracked and\ndissevered, still impended, as if they might fall with a crash at the\nslightest noise or touch. This was the celebrated Almanna Gj\u00e1 or Chasm,\nof which we had read so much but of which we had been able to form no\nadequate idea from descriptions.\n\nOf a scene so extraordinary, indeed unique, I can only attempt\nfaithfully to convey my own impressions, without hoping to succeed\nbetter than others who have gone before me.\n\nLet the reader imagine himself, standing on the stony plateau; below him\nstretches a beautiful verdant valley, say about five miles broad, and\nabout 100 feet below the level on which he is standing; to the right\nbefore him also lies the lake which we have been skirting for some miles\nin riding along. It is in size about ten miles each way, and is bounded\nby picturesque ranges of bare volcanic hills. This whole valley has\nevidently sunk down in one mass to its present level, leaving exposed a\nsection of the rent rocks on either side of the vale. These exposed\nedges of the stony plateau running in irregular basaltic strata, and\nwith fantastic shapes on the top like chimneys and ruined towers,\nstretch away like black ramparts for miles, nearly parallel to each\nother, with the whole valley between them, and are precipitous as walls,\nespecially that on the left.\n\nThe top of the mural precipice, overlooking the gorge at our feet, is\nthe original uniform level of the ground before the sinking of the\nvalley. It forms the edge of the plateau which stretches away behind and\nalso before us to the left of the precipice; for we look down the chasm\nlengthways, along the front of the rock-wall, and not at right angles\nfrom it. A mere slice of the rock has been severed and is piled up on\nour right, like a Cyclopian wall. It runs parallel with the face of the\nrent rock to which it formerly belonged, for, say, about the eighth of a\nmile N.E. from where we stand, and then terminates abruptly there in\nirregular crumbling blocks like a heap of ruins; while the trench or gj\u00e1\nitself also runs back in a straight line S.W. for about two miles, and\nterminates at the brink of the lake.\n\nThe N.E. side of the valley is the highest, and the S.W. the\nlowest\u2014shelving beneath the blue water, and forming the bottom of the\nlake. The river Oxer\u00e1, which thunders over the rock-wall on the right,\nforms a magnificent waterfall, and then flows peacefully across the\nsouth-west corner of the valley to the lake.\n\nBetween these two rock-walls\u2014the left forming the real boundary of the\nvalley on that side, but the right wall being only a slice severed from\nthe left, and not the other boundary of the valley, which is situated\nabout five miles distant\u2014a long narrow passage descends, leading to the\nplain below. The flat bottom of this passage 100 feet deep is strewn\nwith debris, but otherwise covered with tender green sward. The bottom\nis reached from the elevated waste where we stand by a very rough\nirregular winding incline plane\u2014for although the descent is full of\ngreat blocks of stones, dreadfully steep, and liker a deranged staircase\nthan anything else, we still call it a steep incline plane from the\nlevel of the plateau to the passage beneath which leads into the\nvalley\u2014high rock-walls rising on either side as we descend. Entering the\ndefile and moving along on level ground, the wall on the right,\nevidently rent from the other side as if sliced down with some giant\u2019s\nsword from the edge of the plateau, soon terminates in the valley; but\nthat on the left runs on for many miles like a fire-scathed rampart. The\nstony plateau stretches back from the edge or level of the summit of\nthis rock-wall, and the lovely green valley of Thingvalla extends from\nits base to the Hrafna Gj\u00e1 or Raven\u2019s Chasm\u2014the corresponding wall and\nfissure, like rampart and fosse\u2014which bounds the other side of the\nvalley.\n\nI am thus particular, because certain descriptions led me to suppose\nthat here we would encounter a precipice at right angles to our path,\nand have to descend the face of it, instead of descending an incline\n_parallel to its face_, from where the _stair_ begins on the old level.\nAs it is, however, it seemed quite steep enough, with the rock-walled\nincline reaching from the valley to our feet. This wild chasm is called\nthe Almanna Gj\u00e1\u2014all men\u2019s or main chasm; while the one on the other side\nof the vale of Thingvalla is called the Hrafna Gj\u00e1 or Raven\u2019s Chasm. The\nwhole character of the scene, whether viewed by the mere tourist, or\ndwelt upon by the man of science, is intensely interesting, and in\nseveral respects quite unique; hence I have tried to describe it so\nminutely.\n\nWhen Professor Chadbourne and I came up to it, we gazed down in awe and\nwonder. We knew that our companions must have descended somehow, for\nthere was no other way: but how, we could not tell. Were we to dismount\nand let the horses go first, they might escape and leave us; if we\nattempted to lead them down they might fall on the top of us; to descend\non foot would be extremely difficult at any time, and dismounting and\nmounting again at this stage of our proceedings, was rather a formidable\nundertaking. \u201cHow shall we set about it?\u201d I asked my friend. \u201cYou may do\nas you please,\u201d said he, \u201cbut I must keep my seat if I can.\u201d \u201cSo shall\nI, for the horse is surer footed than I can hope to be to-day.\u201d \u201cLead on\nthen\u201d said the Professor, \u201cand I\u2019ll follow!\u201d\n\nSo leaving my pony to choose its steps, it slowly picked its way down\nthe steep gorge; zig-zagging from point to point and crag to crag, or\nstepping from one great block of stone to another. I was repeatedly\ncompelled to lean back, touching the pony\u2019s tail with the back of my\nhead, in order to maintain the perpendicular, and avoid being shot\nforward, feet first, over its head, among the rocks. Sometimes at steep\nplaces it drew up its hind legs and slid down on its hams, many loose\nstones rattling down along with us as the pony kicked out right and left\nto keep its balance, and made the sparks fly from its heels. Descending\nin silence, at last we reached the bottom in safety, thinking it rather\na wild adventure in the way of riding, and one not to be attempted\nelsewhere.\n\n[Illustration: DESCENT INTO THE ALMANNA GJ\u00c1.]\n\nLooking back with awe and increasing wonder at the gorge we had\ndescended, for it certainly was terrifically steep, we both remarked the\ncool indifference and utter absence of fear with which we had ridden\ndown such a break-neck place. The fresh air and excitement prevent one\nfrom thinking anything about such adventures till they are over.\n\n[Illustration: ALMANNA GJ\u00c1.]\n\nThe high rock-walls, now hemming us in on either side, bore a\nconsiderable resemblance to the pictures of Petra\u2014Wady Mousa\u2014in Arabia,\nand here we could fancy mounted Bedouins riding up with their long\nmatchlocks. All was silent as the grave. The ground was green with\ntender herbage; great blocks of stone lay about, and others seemed ready\nto topple over and fall down upon us. Riding along, the rocks on the\nright soon terminated like a gigantic heap of burned ruins, and allowed\nus to gaze across the vale of Thingvalla, with the river Oxer\u00e1 in the\nforeground. Here we overtook our friends who told us that they had all\ndismounted and led their horses down the chasm, and would scarcely\nbelieve that we had ridden down. All of us were lost in wonder and\nstruck with awe at the scenes we had witnessed. We forded the river in a\nrow, following Z\u00f6ga\u2019s guidance; and at 5 o\u2019clock in the afternoon rode\nup to the priest\u2019s house on the other side. It was simply a farm, like\nothers we had seen, consisting of a group of separate erections with\nwooden gables, green sod on the roof and the whole surrounded with a low\nstone wall coped with turf. Beside it was the silent churchyard with its\nsimple grassy graves of all sizes. Immediately behind the house were\npiles of sawn timber, and several carpenters at work rebuilding the\nlittle church, which having become old and frail had been taken down.\nIts site was only about 25 feet by 10.\n\n[Illustration: FORDING THE OXER\u00c1.]\n\nZ\u00f6ga went in to tell the pastor of our arrival, leaving us to dismount\nin a deep miry lane between two rough stone walls leading to the house.\nHe had been busy with his hay, but speedily appeared and hospitably\noffered us what shelter he could afford.\n\nZ\u00f6ga arranged for the grazing of the ponies; we were to dine in the\nlargest room of the house, and he was to have the use of the kitchen\nfire to cook our dinner\u2014the preserved meats, soups, &c.\u2014which of course\nwe had brought with us. The pastor provided a splendid trout from the\nriver, to the great delectation of half a dozen travellers all as hungry\nas hawks.\n\n[Illustration: PRIEST\u2019S HOUSE AT THINGVALLA.]\n\nNow commenced the unstrapping and unpacking, presided over by the\nindefatigable Z\u00f6ga; boxes, bags, and packages, bespattered with mud, lay\nabout singly and in piles. Everybody seemed to want something or other\nwhich was stowed away somewhere, and forthwith the patient obliging\nZ\u00f6ga, in a most miraculous manner, never failed to produce the\ndesiderated articles. Taking a rough towel and soap, I performed my\nablutions in the river close by, while dinner was getting ready and felt\nquite refreshed. \u201cTime and the hour runs through the roughest day,\u201d and\nthis was certainly one to be marked in our calender. Shortly after 6\no\u2019clock we dined and attempted some conversation in Latin with the\npriest, Mr. S. D. Beck. He is a pastor literally and metaphorically,\nfarming and fishing as well as preaching. Hay, however, is the only crop\nwhich is raised here; and the Icelanders are consequently very dependent\nupon the hay-harvest. With their short summer they might not\ninappropriately quote Shakspere\u2019s lines,\n\n \u201cThe sun shines hot; and if we use delay\n Cold biting winter mars our hoped for hay.\u201d\n\nThe scythe used by the Icelanders is quite straight and not half the\nlength of ours. The numerous little hummocks, with which pasture land is\ncovered, necessitate the use of a short implement, so that it may mow\nbetween and around them; the hillocks are from one to two feet high, and\nfrom one to four feet across. In some places the ground presents quite\nthe appearance of a churchyard or an old battle-field. These elevations\nare occasioned by the winter\u2019s frost acting on the wet subsoil. If\nlevelled they would rise again to the same height in about 7 or 8 years;\nbut the farmers let them alone, because they fancy they get a larger\ncrop from the greater superficial area of the field, and this old\nlet-alone custom certainly saves them much labour. The primitive state\nof their agriculture, as well as the peculiar nature of the Icelandic\nsoil, may be inferred from the fact, that there are only two ploughs in\nthe whole island and no carts. A spade, a scythe two feet long, a small\nrake with teeth about an inch and a half deep, and ropes made of grass\nor hair to bind the hay, which is carried on men\u2019s backs or conveyed by\nhorses to be stacked, are all that the farmer requires for his simple\noperations. The hay, especially that which grows in the t\u00fans, is of fine\nquality, tender and nutritive; and, with even any ordinary attention to\ndrainage, many a fertile vale could be made to yield much more than is\nnow obtained from it. Latin was our only mode of communicating directly\nwith the priest; but having had little colloquial practice of that kind,\nwe blundered on, feeling that, in appropriating the stately language of\nCicero and Virgil to creature comforts and the vulgar ongoings of daily\nlife, we were almost committing a species of desecration: yet the\nludicrous combinations and circumlocutions, grasped at in desperation to\nexpress modern things in a dead language, afforded us no little\namusement. Professor Chadbourne, Mr. Murray, and myself got most of the\nwork to do, and were often greeted with the pastor\u2019s goodnatured \u201cIta,\u201d\nor \u201cIntelligo,\u201d when our propositions could not have been particularly\nremarkable for perspicacity. Amongst foreigners, charity covers a\nmultitude of sins of this kind. We cannot however apply the same remark\nto our own countrymen, who are often more inclined to laugh at a\nforeigner\u2019s mistakes than to help him.\n\nThe fragrant tedded hay and the green vale of Thingvalla stretching\nbefore us were peculiarly refreshing to the eye, after the dreary rugged\nlava-wastes through which we had passed\u2014where tracks of flat rocks were\ncorrugated and shrivelled up like pitch, having been left so when the\nlava set; and where other rock-surfaces appeared ground and polished in\ngrooves by the ice-drift; or where all was covered with a pack of lava\nblocks and slabs, of all sizes and lying in every conceivable direction.\n\nAfter tea I walked out alone a little way north-west of the church to\nexamine the Althing, on the upper part of which stands the L\u00f6gberg or\nsacred law hill, where, when the Parliament or Althing was assembled,\nthe judges sat; and where justice was administered to the Icelanders for\nnearly 900 years; thus rendering Thingvalla, with its numerous\nassociations and stirring memories, to speak historically, by far the\nmost interesting spot in the island.\n\n[Illustration: ALTHING AND L\u00d6GBERG FROM BEHIND THE CHURCH.]\n\nThe Althing is a long sloping ridge of lava, about 200 feet long and\nfrom 30 to 50 broad, covered on the top with the most tender herbage and\nflowers. At the end next the church it is low and approachable, by\nclimbing over a few stones among and below which one can see water, but\nit is entirely separated from the surrounding plain by two deep\nperpendicular rocky fissures or chasms running parallel on either side\nand joining at the further end. Only at one place is the chasm so\nnarrow\u201416 feet\u2014that, once on a time, Flosi, leader of the burners of\nNjal\u2019s house, made his escape from justice by taking a desperate leap.\nThese chasms contain clear water, so that the Althing is in fact a\nnarrow peninsula, which with the entrance guarded was as secure as a\nfortress. One looks sheer down, say 20 or 30 feet, to the surface of the\nwater in the chasms; while the water itself is from 80 to 90 feet deep,\nand in some places said to be unfathomable. These fissures run S.W. to\nthe lake which is about a mile distant. Through the water, one sees huge\nblocks of lava of a whitish blue colour and dark masses of basalt\ngleaming from the green depths. Beautiful tender fairy-like ferns grow\non the edges and in the sheltered crevices of the rocks; and I gathered\nspecimens of grasses, mosses, violets, butter-cups and forget-me-nots,\nfrom the soft verdant carpet which covered the surface. Here, the\nIcelandic Parliament, such as it was, continued to meet, down to the\nyear 1800, when the seat of government was finally removed to Reykjavik.\n\nIn the old palmy days, prior to A.D. 1261 when the island became subject\nto Norway, the Althing was the scene of many a spirited debate; affairs\nof the greatest import were here freely discussed, and finally disposed\nof, in open assembly. Thus, in the year A.D. 1000, after a stormy\ndebate, it was determined that Christianity should be introduced as the\nreligion of the island. Here, measures of general interest were\nproposed, taxes levied, law-suits conducted, the judgments of inferior\ncourts revised, subordinate magistrates impeached for dereliction of\nduty and dismissed from their office; while criminals were tried, and if\nfound guilty of capital offences were summarily executed. Criminals were\nbeheaded on the little Island of Thorlevsholm in the Oxer\u00e1; in a pool of\nthe same river, female offenders, sewed in a sack, were drowned; and\nthose condemned for witchcraft were precipitated from the top of a high\nrock on the east side of the Almannagj\u00e1.\n\nThe Althing commonly met in the middle of May and sat for 14 days. Every\nfreeholder had a right to attend and express his opinion on measures\nunder consideration: thus, at Thingvalla, friends and acquaintances from\ndistant parts of the island\u2014members and friends of both sexes\u2014annually\navailed themselves of this opportunity of meeting each other. The people\npitched their tents on the banks of the Oxer\u00e1 and in the plain around\nthe Althing; so that a wild lone scene usually silent as the grave, for\nthe time became quite a busy one, enlivened by the presence of nearly\nall the elite of the island.\n\n[Illustration: LAKE OF THINGVALLA FROM THE L\u00d6GBERG.]\n\nGazing from the Althing, so as to take in the general aspect of the\nwondrous scene around us, the whole valley seems obviously to have sunk\ndown en masse to its present level. The tops of the two extreme\nwall-like boundaries, with chasms at their base, on either side of the\nvale, respectively called the Almannagj\u00e1 and the Hrafnagj\u00e1, show the\noriginal height of the whole, and also exhibit a section of the rock.\nThis view of the matter is proved by the fact, that the numerous cracks,\nrents, or fissures, such as those around the Althing, with which the\nvalley is intersected, when examined are found exactly to correspond in\ntheir sections\u2014trahytic trap capped by lava\u2014with the edges left standing\nas they were before the subsidence of the valley and now bounding it\nlike a black rampart. The pastor\u2019s dwelling, from where I stand,\npresents the appearance of a few grass hillocks or potato-pits. The site\nof each erection is partly excavated from the side of a little slope, to\nprotect it from the storm. Grass-turf covers the roofs, and the whole\ngroup of buildings is surrounded by a three-foot turf-wall;\nconsequently, like many other Icelandic farms we have seen, little more\nthan the roofs appear above ground. At midnight I made several sketches\nof the lake of Thingvalla; the river Oxer\u00e1 as it fell thundering over\nthe dark rock-wall in a sheet of white foam; and the bare heights to the\nnorth-east, purple in the evening glow and mottled with snow patches.\n\n[Illustration: WATERFALL OF THE OXER\u00c1, AS SEEN FROM THE L\u00d6GBERG.]\n\nOn returning to the pastor\u2019s, I found my companions fast asleep on the\nfloor. The canvas tent which had been left by the French expedition\nserved them for a bed, portmanteaus or packages were appropriated for\npillows, and plaids and wrappers spread over them for blankets. They lay\npacked like herrings in a barrel. I stepped over them as quietly as I\ncould, found an unoccupied space near the open window, speedily\nensconced myself for the night, and in a few minutes sank into a\nwell-earned and blessed state of obliviousness.\n\n\n_Saturday Morning, July 30._\u2014Breakfasted and left Thingvalla at 9 A.M.\nThe first five miles or so of our journey across the valley lay through\nlow green brushwood, where the vegetation was fresh and luxuriant. This\nin Iceland is called a forest; but the trees, chiefly birches and\nwillows, are all dwarfs. The birches were about 3 feet high, very few of\nthem attaining to the height of 4 or 5 feet; the willows were of three\nkinds; one with a leaf resembling bog myrtle; the leaves of another\nwhite, green, and flossy\u2014both these varieties only 10 to 12 inches high;\nwhile the third, although Professor Chadbourne assured me it was a\ngenuine willow, was only about one and a half inches; we observed\ncatkins on them all. Wild geraniums, forget-me-nots, butter-cups, the\nbeautiful rose-coloured sedum so common in Iceland, clover, sea-pinks,\n&c., grew in profusion, and imparted to the whole the appearance of a\nrich fresh green coppice. When the ponies could snatch at a stray bite\nof grass as they passed along, in doing so, they would often at the same\ntime take up a tree by the roots and carry it off in their mouths.\n\nWe came upon yawning chasms, every little way, where the rocks had been\nrent asunder; the cracks or fissures about 100 feet deep, 10 or 20 wide,\ndry, and all running in the same direction from the lake. These we\neither avoided, or crossed at places where blocks of stone had fallen\nin, so as to fill up part with debris, or form natural bridges which\nafforded as good footing as the most of the track we had ridden over.\nThe lake of Thingvalla lay peacefully behind us on our right, fair as a\nsilver mirror. Ascending a green bosky hill, where numerous hillocks\naround were clothed with low brushwood to the very top, we came to the\nHrafnagj\u00e1, or Raven\u2019s chasm, which forms the eastern boundary of\nThingvalla. It is a deep broad irregular abyss, several miles in length,\nand on the further side, high like a rampart. We got across it, and up\nto the level of the plateau, by picking our way over the ridge of an\navalanche of rock and stones, which had fallen in, leaving gaps, rude\narches, and frightful openings into the darkness beneath us; while,\nright and left, the chasm itself stretched away like the dry fosse of a\ngiant\u2019s castle which, through successive ages, had withstood the\nassaults of all the rock-j\u00f6tuns. Up this perilous way, steeper than a\nstair, winding, zig-zagging, doubling, leaping like cats from block to\nblock, or standing for a second like goats with four feet on one stone\nto consider their next move, our patient ponies toiled upwards and took\nus safely across. Looking back, we bade adieu for a time to the lovely\ngreen vale of Thingvalla beneath us, and were lost in wonder, both at\nthe wild savage grandeur of the chasm we had just crossed and at the\nsure-footedness and pluck of our trusty little steeds.\n\nThe plateau now attained was of the same level as that over which we had\npassed before descending into Thingvalla, but here, it did not extend\nvery far, being bounded by irregular heights and bare hills.\n\nVegetation disappeared, everything seemed blasted. Plovers again sat\nquite close to us, or flitted past, uttering their shrill plaintive\nwhistle; passing so near that we could distinctly observe the tremulous\nmotion of their mandibles. The ponies stepped aside from holes in our\nvery track, opening into hollow darkness, where stones thrown in were\nlong heard striking against the sides. At one place, we came to a black\ncave 20 or 30 feet in size, arched right into and under great blocks of\nstone. It appeared to be a huge lava-blister which had taken its present\nshape in cooling. The bottom of the cave, protected from the warm rays\nof the sun, was covered with snow; and, for the same reason, white\npatches of snow lay in crevices of the bare rocky hills around us. The\npath now ascended flanking the sides of the hills on the left, while the\nwhole region seemed fire-scathed and blasted. The hills and slopes were\ncovered with dark volcanic sand, pulverized ashes, and slag, out of\nwhich abruptly rose irregular masses of rock. Here, leaving our horses,\nwe turned aside to examine a small extinct crater or vent, called\nTintron, crowning a little eminence to the right. In ascending it, we\nwere up to the ancles in fine black sand or slag, which, yielding\nbeneath the feet at every step, made walking extremely awkward, if not\ndifficult. The crater itself was composed of great blocks of red and\nblack vitrified lava, over which we looked down into the darkness as\ninto Pluto\u2019s chimney. We threw in some large stones, but could not from\ntheir sound form an estimate of the depth. Perhaps this vent may be only\na lava-blister which has burst on the top, instead of forming a cave\nlike the other we lately saw. However, though small, it presented the\nappearance of a regular crater. From it, we saw, on the one side, the\nbeautiful Lake of Thingvalla; and, on the other, the near hills\nopposite, with the slope between them and us all covered with black\nscori\u00e6.\n\n[Illustration: VENT OF TINTRON.]\n\nAfter pocketing a few specimens of the lava, I made a rough sketch of\nthe crater and gathered a sprig of wild thyme, and a little white flower\n(_parnassia_), which was blooming all alone on its very brink. Mounting\nour ponies and descending for about an hour, on clearing the hill-side\nwe came in sight of a level plain of green meadow land, lying below us,\nshaped like a horse shoe, and occupying an area of 3 or 4 miles. It\nappeared to have been submerged at no very distant period, and, like\nother Icelandic valleys, was sadly in want of drainage.\n\nThe rocky hill-range, which at the same time came into view on the left\nand formed the boundary of the plain, was one of the most singular I\never beheld. It was composed of black, yellow, and red volcanic rock;\nrising in fantastic cones, or receding into savage gorges, steep,\nabrupt, and angular. The surface was absolutely without vegetation of\nany kind, and every cleavage, rent or crevice, so fresh, bare, and\nunweathered, one could fancy that the rocks had only during the last\nhour been smitten, shattered, and splintered by Thor\u2019s hammer; while the\nrich effect of their vari-coloured tints was heightened by the pure\nwhite clouds which incense-like were now muffling and rolling about\ntheir summits, and by the verdure which extended to their base like a\ncarpet. Our track lay along the foot of them, and wonder only increased\nas we obtained a nearer view of their Tartarian wildness.\n\n[Illustration: VARI-COLOURED HILLS.]\n\nHere we halted, and I made a slight sketch of a portion of the range. As\na mere study of light and shade, to say nothing of other striking\nfeatures, the scene would have made a magnificent photograph.\n\nStarting, we rode on, till we reached the end of the cinder range,\ndoubled the outmost spur, and, after ascending for sometime, came in\nsight of gently sloping hills. Their flowing outlines were covered with\nverdure to the very top, and, from our path, opened up here and there\ninto little green bosky valleys \u201cwhere the blae-berries grow.\u201d Before\nus, in a vast level plain which stretched away from the roots of the\nhills near to the horizon, lay the Laugervatn; and further to the south,\nlinked by a river, the Apavatn, a lake much larger; while several other\nrivers meandered in gleaming serpentine courses over the vast green\nprairie-like meadow.\n\nOn the brink of the Laugervatn are several hot springs from which it\ntakes its name. We observed columns of white steam rising from them on\nthe brink next us, just below the farm of Laugervalla; and also across\non the other side of the lake. Approaching the farm, we halted, outside\nthe tun, to lunch, rest for an hour and let the horses graze. It\npresented the usual appearance of Icelandic farms; not unlike an\nirregular group of potato-pits or tumuli. The roofs were of the same\ncolour as the plain, and the whole shut in from the surrounding pasture\nland by a rude four-foot wall, also covered on the top with green turf.\nThe tun, or few acres thus enclosed, receives a top-dressing of manure\nand bears a luxuriant crop of hay; the rest is left in a state of\nnature, and reaped without sowing. The hay, when stacked, is protected\nfrom the rain by thin slices or strips of turf from 6 to 10 feet long.\nNearly all Icelandic farming has reference to the rearing of stock\u2014the\nsummer being too short for grain to reach maturity.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA few words, here, while we rest, as to Icelandic Farms in general.\n\nMost farms have a weaving room, a smithy, a milk room, a sitting\nroom\u2014used also for eating and sleeping in\u2014called stofa; a guest-chamber,\ncattle-houses, which are sometimes placed immediately under the\nsleeping-room but more frequently detached, and a kitchen; which last my\nfriend Dr. Mackinlay neatly describes as often \u201ca dingy dark place, with\na peat fire on a lava block, and a hole in the roof to let in light and\nlet out smoke.\u201d The turf is inferior; wood is too scarce and valuable to\nbe much used for fuel. Coal costs \u00a35 per ton, is retailed in small\npackages at about 2d. per pound, and is only used in smithies. When turf\nis not available, the Icelanders, like the Arabs, burn dried cows\u2019 dung;\nand on the coast, where even that is scarce, they use the dried carcases\nof sea-fowl. Why do they not burn dried sea-weed, which is extensively\nused for fuel in the Channel Islands?\n\nTheir daily food is taken cold, and consists chiefly of raw dried\nstock-fish and skier. The latter dish is simply milk allowed to become\nacid and coagulate, and then hung up in a bag till the whey runs off. In\nthis form it is both nutritive and wholesome, being more easily digested\nthan sweet milk; while, to those who take to it, it is light, palatable\nand delightfully cooling. Milk is prepared in this way by the\nShetlanders, who in the first stage call it \u201crun milk,\u201d and when made\ninto skier \u201chung milk.\u201d The same preparation is made use of by the\nArabs, and it is also the chief diet of the Kaffirs and Bechuanas at the\nCape. Our idea that milk is useless or hurtful when soured is merely an\nignorant prejudice. Those who depend for their subsistence chiefly on\nmilk diet, and have the largest experience, prefer to use it sour, and\nmedical authority endorses their choice. In Icelandic farms hard black\nrye bread is at times produced as a luxury; butter is always cured\nwithout salt, and used rancid, however, after it reaches a certain mild\nstage it gets no worse; meat is dried at certain seasons of the year for\noccasional use, and the rivers abound in excellent fish. The chief use\nto which the kitchen fire is put, is to prepare a cup of warm coffee.\nSnaps, sugar candy, coffee, grain, and other foreign commodities, they\nobtain at the factories.\n\nThe scarcity of fuel tempts people to crowd together for heat; sometimes\n15 or 16 people in one small sleeping apartment, and that often placed\nover another where cattle are kept. The state of such an atmosphere may\nbe imagined, while many dirty habits and the frequent recourse to\nstimulants are thus accounted for. Nor will any one wonder much,\nalthough there were no other causes, that, in one district of the south,\n75 per cent of all the children born die before they complete their\ntwelfth month.\n\nAs for indoor occupations, the farmers, as in colonial outposts, of\nnecessity are Jacks-of-all-trades. They forge scythes, make saddles and\nbridles, make their simple household furniture, horse-shoe nails, and\neven build or repair their own houses. Females do the tailoring, but men\nmake their own shoes and take their turn at the spinning wheel, the\nknitting needles, and the loom. All work together by lamplight, while\nsome one reads aloud some old-world story. The out-door occupations are\nboth fishing and farming. The ver-tima, or fishing season, lasts from\nFebruary till May, and is chiefly carried on, on the south-west coast,\nwhich, from thus becoming a source of wealth, is called Guld-bringu\u2014or\nthe gold bringing\u2014Sysla. At the beginning of the season, men move down\nto the fishing stations. The boats have each from 4 to 10 oars, and\ncrews of from 10 to 20 men.\n\nLines only are used, and the fish caught are chiefly cod and ling. Part\nare salted and dried for exportation, part dried for home use without\nsalt and left at the stations to be fetched at midsummer, when many\npeople resort to the annual fair for the sale of produce, or rather the\nexchange of commodities. The deep sea fishing is not prosecuted by the\nIcelanders, but is chiefly carried on by the Norwegians, French, and\nDutch. All journeys are performed on horseback.\n\nThese statements will enable the reader to form an idea of the ongoings\nof daily life in the numerous farms, which are scattered over the\nhabitable belt of pasture-land which nearly surrounds the island.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThrough Z\u00f6ga, we had an interview with the farmer, and arranged for the\ngrazing of the ponies on the farm of Laugervalla. A girl brought out a\nlarge basin of skier, together with a plentiful supply of milk and cream\nto us.\n\nWe looked wistfully to the south-east in the direction of Hekla which\nlay about 35 miles distant, but at this time it was quite hid by an\nimpenetrable veil of clouds resting on the horizon line. As we were\nabout half-way from Thingvalla to the Geysers, we mounted the relay\nhorses, and now it was the turn of those that brought us thither to be\ndriven before us.\n\nIn Iceland, at whatever pace the ponies run, they are supposed to be\nresting, when they carry no load.\n\nOur course lay over some wet marshy land\u2014from which we gathered heather,\nmoss, cotton-grass, and buck-bean\u2014across a shallow river brawling over\nwhite and slaty coloured stones on its way to the lake; and then higher\nup, along the sides of the green hill-range which trends in the\ndirection of the Geysers. Here dwarf-birches and willows grew in\nprofusion; while the broken cakes of black lava, which projected from\namong them, served by contrast to add freshness to the greenth of the\nfoliage, and yet more brilliance to the vari-coloured flowers which\nbloomed in beauty on every side. We saw innumerable coveys of ptarmigan\non the hill-sides, many plovers, snipe, and a few snow-birds. All were\nvery tame, flitted quite near and seemed to wonder at our intruding on\ntheir amenities. We did not abuse their confidence, but admiringly\nallowed them to go, as they came, in peace.\n\nComing to a part where the soil was of soft earth and turf, we found it,\nfor miles, worn by the ponies into very narrow tracks, averaging two\nfeet in depth. There were from six to twelve of these tracks, with thin\ngrassy ledges between them, lying close together nearly parallel and\nevery little way running into each other; where the ground sloped, they\nwere dry; and, where it was level or low, they were full of mud or\nwater. Riding along at a hard trot, we required to be ever on the alert,\nand to maintain an incessant motion of the feet, in order to avoid\ncollision with the irregular surface and the projecting stones on either\nside of us. Tempted by a wild flower of unusual beauty, I dismounted,\nbut was astonished to find that the deep tracks were so narrow that I\ncould not walk in them, there not being width for my one foot to pass\nthe other: yet a horse finds no difficulty in trotting along; actually,\nhowever paradoxical it may seem, requiring less space for its feet than\na man.\n\nWe saw numerous farms as we passed along, each consisting of a group of\nirregular hillocks, with the windows hid deep in the grassy turf like\nport-holes, and generally all turned inwards so as to be sheltered from\nthe roaring blasts of winter. We met ponies trudging along conveying\nlambs from one farm to another. It was curious to see the little animals\nlooking out of square crate-like boxes, made of spars of wood, slung in\nthe manner of panniers on a donkey, and to hear them bleat: reminding\none of the old nursery rhyme \u201cyoung lambs to sell!\u201d\n\nThey could not be otherwise transported over lava tracks and across the\nrivers which separate one valley from another. We saw several small\ncaravans or companies of Icelanders on the way. They had the same sort\nof boxes as our baggage ponies, and the same quaint horse gear, down to\nthe rough hair cords tied and fastened by passing a sheep\u2019s knee-bone\nthrough a loop to prevent knots from slipping. They had tents and\nprovisions; one of the ponies carried a leather bottle probably filled\nwith skier. It was a calf\u2019s skin sewed up, with the head and legs left\non it, so that it presented a quaint old world look; and recalled\npictures in the catacombs of Egypt. Notwithstanding the difference of\nclimate, when in contact with the people, one is here, at every point,\nreminded of the East and carried back to patriarchal times. We touched\nour hats in returning the salutations of those we met, although we did\nnot know the exact import of what was said to us on such occasions till\nafterwards, when Dr. Mackinlay told me that an Icelander when he meets a\nstranger invariably doffs his bonnet and accosts him with the phrase\n\u201cSaellar verith th\u00e9r!\u201d\u2014\u201cHappy may you be!\u201d or occasionally with one\nstill more expressive, \u201cGuts fride!\u201d\u2014\u201cGod\u2019s peace be with you!\u201d On\nsaying good-bye, he uncovers again, and repeats the first phrase with a\nslight inversion, \u201cVerith th\u00e9r saellar!\u201d\u2014\u201cBe ye happy!\u201d\n\nAfter the customary salutations, he accosts everybody on the road with a\nseries of questions, like a master hailing a ship. The first question\nput, is \u201cWhat is your name?\u201d the second \u201cWhose son are you?\u201d\u2014for the\ngeneral absence of surnames renders this necessary\u2014the third \u201cWhere do\nyou come from?\u201d Then follows \u201cWhither are you going?\u201d and \u201cWhat are you\ngoing to do there?\u201d These questions are not regarded as impertinent, but\nas exhibiting a kindly interest. Henderson says, \u201cWhen you visit a\nfamily in Iceland, you must salute them according to their age and rank,\nbeginning with the highest and descending according to your best\njudgment to the lowest, not even excepting the servants; but, on taking\nleave, this order is completely reversed; the salutation is first\ntendered to the servants, then to the children, and last of all to the\nmistress and master of the family.\u201d Old friends meeting, salute each\nother, in the old Icelandic way, with the kiss of peace. Clergymen are a\nprivileged body, for, in salutation, even strangers male or female give\nthem the kiss of peace and address them as \u201cSira,\u201d Father. Hence our\nwords sire and sir. Out of Reykjavik, and away from the factories, there\nis much of the oriental type about the manners and customs of the\nIcelanders; the same simplicity, the same native politeness, the same\ndisregard of cleanliness, and the same dislike of change.\n\nWe now rode over uneven rocky ground, enriched with brushwood, till we\nreached the banks of the Bruar\u00e1. This broad, deep, rapid river drains\nthe valley of Laugervalla, receiving the waters of two lakes, Laugervatn\nand Apavatn; which in turn are fed by rivers and streams from the snow\nmountains beyond. A few miles south of us, near Sk\u00e1lholt, it receives\nthe joint waters of the T\u00fangufljot from Haukadal with the overflow of\nthe Geysers, the magnificent river Hvit\u00e1 which flows from a lake of the\nsame name at the foot of Lang J\u00f6kul, and the Lax\u00e1, from Gr\u0153navatn;\nfurther down to the south-west it also receives the Sog flowing from the\nlake of Thingvalla; and after draining several hundred miles of country,\nthese waters, united in a little gulf called Olfus\u00e1, flow into the sea\non the west coast.\n\nProperly speaking, the Bruar\u00e1 terminates when it joins the longest and\nprincipal river of those named\u2014the Hvit\u00e1 or White-river\u2014and below the\njunction, the whole waters united in one river are simply called the\nHvit\u00e1; while the gulph, formed on the coast where it debouches into the\nsea, is called Olfus\u00e1.\n\nThe place selected for fording the Bruar\u00e1 is immediately above a\nsingular waterfall shaped like a horse-shoe\u2014the concave looks\ndownwards\u2014with a volcanic fissure or rent from two to three hundred feet\nlong in the middle of it. This wedge-shaped gap in the bed of the river\nruns back to a point, and the water rushes down into it, from either\nside, falling into the chasm with a noise like thunder. Over this chasm,\nnear the point or part of it highest up the river, are placed some\nplanks with a slight hand-rail on either side, forming a rude bridge\nabout twenty feet long and seven or eight broad. The river was swollen\nby recent rains, so that at least a foot of water lay upon or rather\nrushed over the bridge itself. Some thirty feet of the river had to be\nwaded through ere the bridge in the middle could be reached;\nand\u2014guessing its whole width here, say at 70 feet\u2014again other 20 feet\nhad to be forded after the bridge was passed, ere the steep rough bank,\nup which we had to scramble on the other side, could be attained. The\nwater was deep, turbulent and rapid; while we could hear large stones\ngrating on each other as they were borne along in the current. The eye\ntook in all these bearings at a glance; there was no pause, Z\u00f6ga led on\nand we followed. Our horses were up to the girths, and seemed walking\nover large movable boulders. They leant up the river so as to withstand\nthe current. The arrowy swiftness of the flowing water produced a\nstrange illusory feeling, akin to giddiness; one could not tell whether\nthe motion pertained to one\u2019s self, or to the river. A little to our\nright was the roaring cataract, so we kept the horses\u2019 heads well up the\nriver, to avoid missing the bridge; in that case we should inevitably\nhave been swept over. The view, from the bridge, of the foaming mass of\nwater through which we moved, and of the yawning gulph into which it was\ntumbling and furiously rushing along, far below our very feet, impressed\nthe situation on our minds as something unique.\n\n[Illustration: CROSSING THE BRUAR\u00c1.]\n\nAll having got over in safety, we paused for a few minutes on the top of\nthe high bank to gaze back on the strange spectacle; while, before us,\nthe river rushing along into the chasm, although on a smaller scale and\ndifferent in kind, suggested Dr. Livingstone\u2019s description of the great\nVictoria Falls on the Zambesi. The bridge has been renewed here from of\nold. On this account, the river is named Bruar\u00e1 or Bridge-river; a\nsufficient reason, when we mention that there is only one other bridge\nin the whole island.[8]\n\nIn the neighbourhood of the river we saw many small butterflies\u2014blue and\nwhite\u2014both fluttering and flying kinds; and were much annoyed with\nmosquitoes like gnats, that bit our faces severely and would get in\nabout our necks, persecuting us most pertinaciously.\n\nThe Iceland ponies are truly wonderful animals. They carry one over\nsmooth bare rocks, over great blocks of lava, up places steeper than a\nstair but with footing not half so good; through mud-puddles, water or\nbogs; over tracks of volcanic sand; through coppices; up hill, down\nhill; or across rivers. Patient and sure-footed, they stick at nothing.\nThey are guided by the feet as much as by the bridle; a gentle touch\nwith the heel being the Icelandic they are trained to understand. Some\nriders, we saw, kept up a constant drumming on the poor beasts\u2019 sides.\nAfter their day\u2019s work is done, they receive no manner of grooming or\nstabling; saddle and bridle taken off, they are then left to shift for\nthemselves.\n\nTo our intense satisfaction, Z\u00f6ga pointed out a hill about ten miles\noff, on the other side of which lay the Geysers. It was detached from\nthe range of hills we had to skirt, rising with a gentle slope at right\nangles to them, and falling abruptly on the other side; forming a sort\nof bluff headland resting on a marshy plain. Part of our track lay\nthrough a plashy bog; then we had long level tracks of beautiful velvet\nturf at the foot of the hills, which both riders and horses seemed to\nthink were made expressly for running races upon. When the ponies could\nbe got into their peculiar amble, we progressed very pleasantly, and\nalmost as fast as at a gallop. The hills on our left were mostly green,\ncovered with dwarf birches, willows and blae-berries. On their slopes we\nsaw farms, here and there, as we passed along. The plain immediately on\nour right, bounded by distant mountains and j\u00f6kuls, was marshy. When it\nbecame very spongy and impassible, generally, we had only to move a\nlittle way higher up along the hill side, in order to obtain firmer\nfooting. Approaching the hill which separated us from the Geysers, we\ncrossed the morass, forded a river, rode up a miry lane past a farm\nhouse, turned the flank of the hill, and beheld clouds of white steam\nrising from the slope. The wished for goal now lay before us. Pushing on\nrapidly, my trusty little pony soon reached and picked its way over a\ngritty slope, among numerous plopping pits, steaming holes, boiling\nsprings and fountains, up to the side of the Great Geyser, where I\ndismounted at 9 o\u2019clock at night, having been ten and a half hours in\nthe saddle.\n\nThe Geysers are boiling springs, situated seventy-two miles north-east\nof Reykjavik, on a gritty slope, at the foot of a trap-hill three\nhundred feet high; and on the upper border of a green-marshy plain,\nsloping down towards a small river which runs meandering through it in a\nsouthern direction. They are about a hundred in number, and all located\nin an area of about a quarter of a mile. Three of them are erupting\u2014the\nGreat Geyser, Strokr, and the Little Geyser. These, with Blesi, the most\nbeautiful of the non-erupting springs, and situated a little way above\nthe great Geyser, are the principal attractions to a traveller; although\nall the others, with everything pertaining to such phenomena, are\nintensely interesting.\n\nGeyser means gusher or rager; Strokr is derived from the verb to\nagitate, and signifies a churn. Instead of an abstract summary, I shall\nendeavour as far as possible to give a detailed account of what we saw,\nand in the order of its occurrence. This will enable the reader, as it\nwere, to accompany us, and gather the distinctive and varied features of\nthis marvellous scene from the same points of view.\n\nWe stand at the side of the great Geyser, on the upper or north-west\ncorner of a slope; a low trap-hill above us, the green valley of\nHaukadal below, and columns, jets, and clouds of white steam rising,\ncurling and waving from the numerous springs on this upper arid slope on\nwhich we stand. The surface immediately around us\u2014flinty and paved in\nthin scaly layers\u2014is of a gritty reddish irony colour, with streamlets\nof hot steaming water trickling along from the overflow of the Geysers,\non their way to join the river below. A long continuous strip of verdant\nturf runs up into this slaggy region, between the great Geyser and\nStrokr; and elsewhere various little round green islet-patches about a\nfoot in diameter occur in it; blooming like oases, and covered with\nparnassia, sea-pink, wild-thyme and butter-cups, all thriving and\nseeming to enjoy the thermal heat. Here we found many bits of stick,\nturf, moss, and flowers, incrusted over with the silicious deposit of\nthe water and converted into beautiful petrifactions.\n\nThe great Geyser basin is situated on the top of a cone shaped mound,\nwhich, on account of the uneven nature of the surrounding ground, seems,\nfrom every different point of view, to vary in height. As we approached,\nit appeared seven feet; moving downwards from the plain, it seemed more\nthan twice as high; while, from the bottom of a deep gully running\nimmediately behind and separating it in one direction from the hill, it\nseemed to attain an elevation of thirty feet.\n\nThe basin\u2014perfectly smooth, of a whitish colour, saucer-shaped, slightly\noval instead of round, seventy-two feet at its greatest breadth, seventy\nfeet mean diameter, and about four feet deep\u2014is full of water to the\nbrim. In the bottom or centre of this gigantic saucer, through the clear\nhot fluid, is seen a round hole ten feet in diameter. This is the top of\na stony funnel or pipe which goes down perpendicularly to a depth of\neighty-three feet.\n\nThe Geyser-water,[9] like many hot springs in India and other parts of\nthe world, holds in solution a large proportion of silica or flint. It\nis well known that this substance, when fused with potash or soda, under\ncertain circumstances readily dissolves in boiling water; and, under\nvarious other conditions, it diffuses itself throughout the arcana of\nnature; finding its way to varnish the stalk of corn in our fields, or\nthe bamboo in Indian jungles, both preserving them from damp and adding\nstrength to their extreme lightness. Fused masses of silica have at\ntimes been found among the ashes of a haycock which has been\naccidentally burned; and the same substance, arrested and deposited in\ncrystalline lumps, is at times met with, though rarely, in joints of\ncane, and when so found is by the natives called Tabasheer.\n\nThis flint-depositing property, resident in the water, has enabled the\nGeyser to raise its own pipe, basin and mound. The original basin or\norifice, when the spring began, must have been at the bottom of the\ntube; the overflow, spreading, would then continue to go on and form\nthin laminated cakes of silicious deposit around it; eruptions would\nkeep the hole open and smooth at the edge, ever adding layer to layer\ntill it became a tube.\n\nThus through the lapse of time\u2014probably about a thousand years\u2014tube,\nbasin and cone have, without doubt, been built up to their present\nelevation; and will continue to rise till the weight of the\nsuper-encumbent column of water becomes so great as to exceed the\neruptive forces, or these latter from any other cause cease to operate,\nwhen the Geyser will probably remain tranquil for a time, and then\nslowly continue to deposit flint on the surface edges, till at length\nthey meet and finally altogether seal up the cone.\n\nThis supposition is not altogether hypothetical, but is deduced from our\nhaving observed, both here and elsewhere, mounds, plainly of Geyserine\nformation, thus covered over, extinct and silent; little rocky\nelevations left like warts on the surface of the ground; and even the\ntracks or dry-beds of the meandering rivulets, which once carried away\ntheir overflow, still left, distinctly traceable, down the sintery\nslope.\n\nStrokr is situated about four-hundred feet south from the great Geyser.\nIt has not a regularly formed basin like the other, but is surrounded to\na considerable distance by a slight elevation, of light flinty grit and\nlaminae, with sundry depressions in it; all being deposited after the\nmanner already described. In the centre, through brown coloured sinter,\nis a deep hole, like a well, six feet in diameter at the surface,\ncontracting as it descends and attaining a depth of nearly fifty feet.\nOn looking down, the water is seen, ten or twelve feet from the\nsurface\u2014boiling hard, plop-plopping, roaring, choking, and rumbling\ncontinually; in fact, as its name indicates, agitated and seething like\na churn. The edge, however, must be approached with great caution, as\neruptions occur without any warning; when jets of boiling water shoot up\nto the height of sixty feet, or, when choked with turf to provoke an\neruption, to the height of 150 feet.\n\nThe Little Geyser, situated upwards of 300 feet south of Strokr,\npresents a similar appearance, only it is on a smaller scale; the tube\nis less than forty feet deep. The eruptions, occurring every half-hour\nor so, were like playing fountains; but they only attained a height of\n10 to 15 feet, and lasted about five minutes.\n\nThe chief non-erupting spring, Blesi\u2014so called from its fancied\nresemblance to white marks on a horse\u2019s face\u2014is situated say about 250\nfeet to the west of the Great Geyser, and a little higher up the hill.\nIt is a large irregular oval opening into a cavern full of clear hot\nwater, up to the same level as the ground. It is about 40 or 50 feet\nlong, 10 to 20 broad, and spanned across the centre, so as apparently to\nform two separate oval pools, by a natural rock bridge. The top of this\nbridge is only about a foot broad, and raised an inch or so above the\nsurface of the water, while the arch is quite under it. One can thus see\nthrough the clear water from the one pool to the other, the same as if\nthis curious division were not there.\n\nStanding with our backs to the hill, we observed that the south edge of\nthe spring was only a shelving ledge of silicious sinter, covering in or\nroofing the water; and that, 3 or 4 feet further in, the side of the\ncavern, dipping abruptly and continuing to cave into fathomless\ndarkness, with its whitish crags, precipices, and projecting ledges,\ncould be distinctly followed for 40 or 50 feet far down through the\nclear pure scalding water which was perfectly still. It never boils; but\nits gentle overflow winds southward along the slope, steaming all the\nway. The blue tint of the transparent water near the side was\nexquisitely delicate, and appeared to be caused by light, modified and\nreflected somehow from the craggy sides, although they were whitish in\ncolour, while the crystalline water near the sides was actually as\nbright as lapis-lazuli, shading magically into the most tender\nsea-green. Gazing down on the subaqueous jags, the yawning fissure,\nspite of its stillness and heat, suggested Schiller\u2019s poem of the Diver,\nand then again Hans Christian Andersen\u2019s brilliant word picture of the\nBlue grotto of Capri; combining, as it does, elements both of terror and\nbeauty. We were strangely fascinated by this spring, which although now\nso tranquil only ceased to be an active erupting Geyser in A.D. 1784,\nthe year after the terrific eruption of Skapt\u00e1r, when earthquakes\ndisturbed and wrought sundry changes on the Geyser ground, and,\naccording to Henderson, opened up thirty-five new springs.\n\nThe rest of the springs are situated chiefly on the lower or south-west\ncorner of the slope, and also at the foot of the hill, in the deep gully\nat the back of the great Geyser. They are of various kinds and close\ntogether; little pools of hot water level with the surface; others,\nboiling hard, below it; dark holes with steam rising from them; others\nwhere, though no water could be seen, it was heard seething below, and\nfelt to be boiling by the vibratory motion it communicated to the ground\non which we stood; others seemed caldrons of seething clay; while, in\nmany places around, when a stick was thrust 12 or 18 inches into the\nground and withdrawn, steam issued from the hole so made.\n\nNearly all these springs have an alkaline reaction, and give out more or\nless sulphurated hydrogen. My thermometer, dipt in at the edge of the\ngreat Geyser when at rest but full to the brim, indicated 178\u00b0, and the\ntemperature was pretty equal all round its basin. Blesi was hotter, and\non repeated trials stood at 196\u00b0.\n\nWhile Z\u00f6ga was busy pitching the tent, lent us by the Count Von Trampe,\non the narrow turf plat, about 30 or 40 yards south-west of the great\nGeyser, we observed, besides the white vapour which always hovers over\nit, bubbles rising from the surface of the water over the hole in the\ncentre of the saucer-shaped basin; then the water became troubled; a\nstream of hissing steam rushed up with a noise resembling the whiz of a\nrocket; we heard subterranean sounds like the rumbling of distant\nthunder, broken in upon at intervals by the booming of artillery; a dome\nof water, like a gigantic glass shade eight or ten feet high, then rose\nand burst with a loud explosion, as if a submarine blast had just been\nfired. We expected a grand eruption, but this time were disappointed;\nfor only one other bell, smaller than the first, rose and fell,\nenveloped in dense clouds of steam slightly impregnated with sulphur;\nthe troubling of the water speedily subsided, low muffled sounds died\naway, losing themselves in distant mutterings, and the Geyser pot boiled\nover; but very quietly, as there was no fire outside to be put out by\nthe little rills of scalding water. These ran trickling down the sides\nall round, but chiefly on the south-west where there are several slight\nindentations in the lip of the basin, and where at the foot of the mound\nthe bed of a shallow streamlet has been formed which winds through the\ngritty slope, conveying the Geyser\u2019s overflow, steaming as it runs, down\nto the river. This little rivulet spreads out broad and shallow, as it\nflows over the gritty surface, being only, excepting after eruptions,\none or two inches deep, with many little islet-patches of verdure in it.\n\nThese islets are sometimes formed by a single tuft of butter-cups,\nsea-pinks, wild-thyme, or parnassia; quietly blooming in freshness and\nbeauty in this strange habitat, cared for and cherished by the same\nbeneficent hand that controls the under-lying and central fires, with\nall their marvellous and terrific phenomena.\n\nOur attention was now called to the Little Geyser, which exhibited great\nactivity, shooting up several jets of water at the same time like a\nfountain, while great volumes of steam rolled away from it to the\nleeward. Its eruptions did not attain, as already stated, more than a\nheight of from ten to fifteen feet, and lasted only for about five\nminutes; but they occurred every little while during our stay.\n\nWe sketched this singular region from various points of view; wonder\never increasing, as we wandered about and discovered one marvel after\nanother. For, be it confessed, that on approaching the Geysers, utterly\nfagged and weary, I felt all curiosity so blunted, that, for the first\nfifteen minutes, I believe I would scarcely have risen from the turf on\nwhich I sat to walk a mile, though it had been to see the earth split\nopen to its very centre; and, for the moment, serious thoughts of how I\nwas ever to undergo the ride back occupied my mind. Such however are the\nrecuperative powers of nature, that, after a rest of twenty minutes, I\nagain felt equal to anything, and wandered about seeing what was to be\nseen till 11 o\u2019clock P.M., when Z\u00f6ga announced that dinner was ready.\n\nTea was made with hot water from the great Geyser, because it afforded\nthe nearest supply; but our provisions were cooked in Blesi, because it\nwas of a higher temperature. The water had no unpleasant taste and was\nquite fit for our temporary use.\n\nZ\u00f6ga\u2019s mode of cooking was simple, a fine large trout, with head and\ntail tied together, was fastened to one end of a string, and a big stone\nto the other; the fish was plumped into the water and the stone left\noutside near the edge to moor it; so with tins of preserved meats,\nsoups, &c. They required to be immersed for about twenty minutes. With\nthese, a plentiful supply of bread, biscuit and cheese, and the addition\nof a pailful of milk from the farm, we fared sumptuously; dining\nal-fresco, in broad daylight and the thermometer indicating 58\u00b0,\nalthough it was near midnight.\n\nSeveral loud reports, rumblings, noises, and minor troublings of the\nwater, again brought us to the side of the great Geyser, in expectation\nof a grand eruption, but these came to nothing, and again we were\ndisappointed.\n\nThe tent was small; three of our companions crept in and lay down,\nleaving a place for me to follow. Professor Chadbourne, fearing he might\nmiss an eruption, would not leave the ground, although he had been\noffered quarters at the farm; but, selecting a warm ledge of rock\nimmediately under the Geyser, on the north side, lay down to sleep,\nwrapt up in my storm-coat.\n\nAll had now retired but Mr. Murray who accompanied me to the hill\nbehind, from which we obtained a bird\u2019s-eye view of the plain, with the\nriver meandering through it, and of the numerous springs in the corner\nimmediately below us.\n\nThe sun in the north did little more than dip and skim along a little\nway below the horizon; so that between twelve and one o\u2019clock A.M. it\nwas lighter than on a southern cloudy day at noon; while the whole\natmosphere, in the light \u201cdim,\u201d exhibited a northern depth,\ntransparency, and calm spiritual purity, surpassing the loveliest of our\nsummer twilights. Those who love Dante will perhaps realize the\nimpression it produced on our minds, when we say, that, although it was\ntoo light for any stars to be visible, the ethereal beauty of the sky\nsuggested Beatrice. Returning to the tent before one o\u2019clock, Mr. Murray\nensconced himself comfortably outside, in the lee of it; and I crept in,\nspread my plaid and lay down without disturbing any one, although the\nfour of us inside were packed together as closely as sardines.\n\nAfter Mr. Murray had bade me good night through the canvas, hearing the\nharsh croak of the raven, and the eerie whistle of the plover, I, too,\nquickly fell asleep, and dreamt a queer disjointed jumble of\nScandinavian myths new and old, of which I only remembered, Odin\u2019s Raven\nflapping its wings and leading me to Rabna Floki; seeing that worthy\nthrash Thor, after having eaten his hammer; and Loki kindling Midgard\nwith fire from the Serpent\u2019s eyes; the winds, all the while, sighing a\nrequiem for Baldur, through Yggdrasill the ash tree of existence. The\nrocks were being hurled about by the J\u00f6tuns, who in the midst of their\nconflict opened a space and respectfully stood aside, to allow Professor\nChadbourne to approach me. Hearing myself called upon by name, I\nsuddenly woke up, and saw my friend, in front of the tent, beckoning to\nme in a state of great excitement.\n\nSubterranean noises like thunder were waxing louder and louder; each\nearth-shock accompanied by a tremor of the ground, more or less violent,\nbut quite unmistakeable. Bells of water in quick succession were rising\nfrom the basin and falling again, ever increasing in size, till a large\none burst; and then jets of water, in successive spurts, rushed up in\nsheafs from the tube; at first about 10 feet, then the height was 15,\n20, 30, 50 feet and so on, each effort surpassing the preceding, till it\nattained the height of 200 feet. The fountain did not fall down between\neach jet, but, nearly holding the elevation once gained, the whole grew\nup bodily by a series of jerks each higher than the last. Dense clouds\nof steam enveloped the whole, and only afforded occasional glimpses of\nthe columns of water from the leeward side. White vapour also spread out\nabove the fountain, rolling away in vast curling volumes, which,\ncondensing in the air, came down like heavy dew. Tremendous sounds were\ncontinuously heard, like the roaring of an angry sea, broken in upon by\nthe near discharge of minute guns. It is at last, what we longed to\nbehold, a grand eruption of the great Geyser.\n\nProfessor Chadbourne, who came running to the tent to rouse me, had been\nsleeping for warmth on a ledge immediately under the basin; and, when\nwakened by the loud noises, two streams of boiling water were running\ndown the mound in miniature cascades on either side of him.\n\nThe vast body of water from the central pipe continued jetting up, till,\nas I have said, it attained the height of 200 feet, falling down again\ninto the basin which was brimful to overflowing. The subterranean\nrumbling sounds and reports, accompanied with vibration of the ground,\nwere fearful. Jets of water rushed up, in sheaf, with a continuous\nnoise, such as would be produced by 500 rockets discharged into the air\nat the same instant.\n\nEven the beautiful clouds of steam which robed the Geyser were regarded\nby us with an indescribable feeling of mysterious awe and wonder, as if\nwe had actually discovered the fabled magic vapour, from which the\neastern Ufret, or any other vision, might arise; while the sharp\ntinkling plash of the descending water could, at times, be heard amidst\nthe loud hissing, roaring, booming and confused Babel of all unearthly\nsounds. The eruptive forces having now expended themselves for the time,\nthe fountain gradually subsided in the same manner, though more speedily\nthan it had risen. The whole terrific spectacle lasted about twenty\nminutes. We were singularly fortunate, as, from what we were told, few\neruptions of late have lasted more than four or five minutes, or\nattained half the height of this which we had just witnessed.\n\nWhen over, the water subsided and left the basin empty, so that one\ncould walk in it to the edge of the central tube-hole, and look down. As\nthe water thus sank, so great was the heat in the stone that the cup was\ninstantaneously, though bit by bit, left as dry as an oven. Smooth and\nof a whitish colour, it resembled the chalice of a gigantic water-lily.\nAt the edges however, where silex has been deposited from the spray and\ncondensed steam, the surface, although of the same colour, is rough like\ncoral, or rather granulated like the head of a cauliflower. I broke off\nspecimens of this singular formation from the lip, and also obtained\nbits of shingly lamin\u00e6 from the mound, the latter not unlike the outside\nof an oyster-shell; on several of the fragments was a deposit of\nsulphur.\n\nI now retired to the tent, but the Professor made to sleep, sitting on\nthe edge with his feet in the dry basin, determined to miss nothing. In\nan hour or so he was warned back by the water gradually rising and again\nfilling the cup. There was not much hazard in his so doing, as the\npremonitory symptoms are generally \u201cloud enough,\u201d as my friend Dr.\nMackinlay quaintly remarked, \u201cto disturb the repose of Rip Van Winkle\nhimself.\u201d However, danger may arise from these symptoms being\ndisregarded, as they also precede abortive attempts, in a very deceptive\nand tantalizing way; getting louder and louder up to a certain point,\nand then, instead of coming to a head, gradually subsiding again into\nperfect stillness. The deafening detonations and rumblings are most\nfrequent fast and furious, immediately before, and during eruptions.\n\nThe Geyser made another grand display, early in the morning between four\nand five o\u2019clock; but it fell far short of the first in magnitude. Tired\nwith the fatigues of the preceding days, with broken rest and\nexcitement, I only mechanically sat up, thrust aside the canvas of the\ntent and gazed out on the strange scene, scarcely able to keep my eyes\nhalf open the while. My recollections of it are consequently somewhat\nvague and nebulous; having reference to loud discordant noises muffled\nup in white clouds, both strangely rising from the earth. In fact, to me\nscarcely half awake and perfectly passive, all seemed an evanescent\ndream, and I speedily sank back again to enjoy \u201cthe honey heavy dew of\nslumber;\u201d for to the way-worn and weary, nature\u2019s soft nurse proffers\nthat which is best for them, viz., repose; and as the laureate sings,\n\n \u201cWhy should a man desire in any way\n To differ from the kindly race of men?\u201d\n\n_July 31._\u2014Had the luxury of a hot bath at the great Geyser; dipping a\nrough towel into its basin, and tempering down the heat in one of the\ncooler little pools formed on its ledge by the overflow. When bathing my\nfeet and half dressed, the Geyser exhibited premonitory symptoms of an\neruption, the water bubbling violently over the pipe, streams of hissing\nsteam, noises like thunder, then like artillery, a tremor of the ground,\nthen a transparent dome of water heaved up about four feet and burst.\nGathering up my clothes, bare-footed, I scampered off as fast as\npossible; fortunately without cutting myself on the flinty scale-like\nlamin\u00e6, which on the edges are as hard and sharp as knives. It was only\na little disturbance which subsided in a few minutes, but shallow\nstreams of boiling water flowed down over the very part of the basin\nwhere I had been standing. Afterwards returning with Professor\nChadbourne, we completed our toilet, giving a keen edge to our razors by\ndipping them into the hot water of the great Geyser, at the same time\nmaking use of a little pool at the side as a mirror. The matter-of-fact\noddness of the situation recalled sundry adventures of Don Quixote, when\nin quest of another basin\u2014that of the barber, which he mistook for the\nenchanted golden helmet of Mambrino. The Geyser also did efficient duty\nas pot and tea-kettle for breakfast.\n\nAbout ten o\u2019clock A.M. we witnessed an eruption of Strokr. All of a\nsudden, we heard as it were the whiz of a rocket, and saw a jet of water\nspouting up in a single column, to the height of fifty or sixty feet,\nstraight as the trunk of a palm tree, but spreading out at the top,\nbending gracefully down all round, and falling in clouds of spray. It\nlasted for about ten minutes, subsided, and began again. Some of us,\nlooking down, narrowly escaped being scalded by its sudden vehement and\nunexpected spurts. The ascending water shewed beautifully clear and\ntransparent against the sky; and gleaming rainbows came and went\u2014now\nbright as the tint of flowers, now dim and evanescent\u2014lending opaline\nlustres to the falling showers of diamond spray.\n\nAfter all was over, Z\u00f6ga collected several heaps of turf at the side,\nand then at once plumped them all in, to provoke an eruption. We\nexpected the dose would take effect in twenty minutes or half-an-hour;\nbut a whole hour having elapsed without any sign, we began to fear it\nwould exhibit no resentment at being made to eat dirt. Five minutes\nmore, however, and up it came, rushing with tremendous force, in several\njets, and attaining a height of from a hundred to a hundred and fifty\nfeet. The water falling back, nearly in a perpendicular line, was met by\nup-rushing steam, and thus formed a glassy dome, from which jets of\nwater sprang up. This disturbance lasted twenty-one minutes; was\nfollowed by a lull; then it commenced again, subsided and ended by one\nor two explosions and spurts, after which the water sunk down into the\npipe, rumbling, seething, boiling hard, and plop-plopping as before. The\nwater this time was black and dirty with the particles of sand and turf\nwhich had been administered to it; so that, although higher, it lacked\nthe fairy-like beauty of the last eruption. I had thrown in a white\ncambric pocket handkerchief with some turf tied in it; but, instead of\nits being washed and thrown up, suppose it must have been cooked, and\nreduced to \u201cshreds and patches\u201d or pulp, as I saw no more of it.\n\nSeveral cows were wandering near the Geysers quite unconcerned. Many\nsheep and lambs browse in the valley beneath, occasionally approaching\nthe springs. Accidents, however, seldom occur; although we were told of\nan unlucky ox having once stumbled into Blesi, where it was boiled\nalive. Sea-swallows were flying overhead; and at our feet, among the\nstony grit, grew isolated patches of wild-thyme, sea-pinks, dandelions,\nbutter-cups, sorrel and parnassia\u2014all of them old friends, and quite\nhome-like. The thermometer stood at 60\u00b0 in the shade. At noon, being\nSabbath, we sat down in the lee of the tent, which was fluttering in the\nbreeze, and Mr. Haycock read the service for the day\u2014Professor\nChadbourne and I taking the lessons; gave an English Testament, and some\nof the Religious Tract Society\u2019s illustrated publications to Z\u00f6ga, who\ncould both read and translate them to his brother guides.\n\nAfter dinner walked down to the river. On either side of its course lies\na strip of meadow, where the herbage is rich, green, tender and\nluxuriant like a velvet carpet; the valley around, though also green, is\nin many places wet and spongy; covered with heather and moss-hags.\n\nThe overflow of the Geysers comes down, steaming, to the river, through\nthe brown shingle which is variegated here and there with little strips\nand patches of verdure. After great eruptions there is some body of\nwater; at other times it merely trickles, spread over a wide bed.\n\nWandering about, I visited every one of the springs alone. In the south\ncorner of the Geyser ground, steaming pits occur every little bit: the\ncrust there is very thin, so that one requires to tread with caution.\nSome of them are merely holes in this thin crust, showing steaming pools\nof hot water, flush with the surface and extending under it; others are\nholes in rocks, deep, dark and craggy, with the water far down boiling\nfuriously and seething in white foam; such is Strokr. Some are as if one\nlooked down the kitchen chimney of a castle in the olden time when good\ncheer was preparing: you hear boiling going on but see nothing, for all\nis dark. Others throw up jets of steam. At many places you hear internal\ncauldrons boiling violently, at others you can also see puffs of steam\nescaping at intervals from small clay holes. The Little Geyser enlivens\nthe scene by throwing up many jets of steaming water, at different\nangles, playing like a fountain several times in the course of an hour\nor so; nor does the great Geyser allow itself to be long forgotten: loud\nnoises, rising bells of water, and other premonitory symptoms frequently\ncalling us up to its side in expectation of grand eruptions; for, more\nperfect in its formation and larger than any of the other springs, it is\njustly regarded as the chief attraction of the place.\n\nSir George Mackenzie attempted to explain the mechanism of the Geyser\neruptions, by supposing that the tube was fed from hot water confined in\na neighbouring subterranean cavern. This water was forced into and up\nthe tube by the pressure of steam, accumulated between the surface of\nthe water and the roof of the hypothetical cavern, when it had attained\npower sufficient to overcome the resistance of the column of water\ncontained in the tube.\n\nFor several reasons, this explanation is unsatisfactory; and the more\nlikely theory is the chemical one, propounded by Bunsen who spent eleven\ndays here. In few words it is as follows. The water in the lower part of\nthe tube gets heated far above the boiling point by the surrounding\nstrata; water, thus super-heated for a length of time, is known to\nundergo certain changes which materially modify its composition;\nparticles of air are expelled, the component molecules consequently\nadhere more closely together, so that it requires a much higher\ntemperature to make it boil. When, however, under these conditions, it\ndoes boil, the production of steam is so great and instantaneous as\nsufficiently to account for all the phenomena of a Geyser eruption.\n\nThis theory is supported by various facts. The temperature, both in the\nGeyser tube and in Strokr, gradually rises towards the bottom, and\nincreases before eruptions. It has actually been found as high as 261\u00b0\nFahrenheit, which is 39\u00b0 above the boiling point. In ordinary\ncircumstances it would be found equal throughout, or, if a difference\nwere appreciable, the hottest water, being the lightest, would rise to\nthe top. Stones have been suspended at the bottom and remained\nundisturbed by eruptions, showing that the super-heating process went on\nabove them in the tube itself; and lastly, M. Donny, of Ghent, has\nproduced precisely the same effects in miniature; using for the\nexperiment a brass tube stopped with a cork, and heating it all round\nwith charcoal fires; one, if we remember rightly, at the bottom of the\npipe, and another half-way up.\n\nThis theory would also explain the terrific and destructive water\neruptions of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1, provided the water actually does come from the\ncrater, as is said, and not rather from the great deposits of surface\nsnow and ice melted by the internal heat of the mountain. One of these\neruptions in 1755\u2014the year of the earthquake at Lisbon\u2014destroyed 50\nfarms in the low country, with many men and cattle. Of the two\nGeyser-theories, Bunsen\u2019s is the more likely to prove the correct one.\n\nAfter exploring the plain and gazing on the farm of Haukadal, which is\nsituated on a height about three quarters of a mile to the north of the\nGeyser and celebrated as the birth-place of Ari Frodi the earliest\nhistorian of the north and the first compiler of the Landn\u00e1mabok,\naccompanied by Mr. Murray, I ascended the hill behind so as to get a\ncomplete bird\u2019s-eye view of the Geyser ground, and the whole valley of\nHaukadal or Hawk-dale. The view of this singular region from thence, is\npeculiar, and I shall try to convey an idea of it, even at the risk of\nrepetition.\n\nBelow, a green marshy plain runs nearly north and south; the river,\nwinding through it, shows here and there little serpentine reaches of\nwater like bits of mirror; the horizon, on the south and south-east, is\nbounded by a low sloping range of purple hills, and several low detached\nheights shaped like the Nineveh mounds. On the north and north-east rise\nseveral distant mountains. One of them is a J\u00f6kul, with perpetual snow\nand ice on its summit, and ribbed with white streaks down its sides. On\nthe west is the hill-range on which we now stand. It is considerably\nhigher, rougher, and wilder in character than the heights on the other\nside of the valley. Near the foot of the hills, at our feet, are bluff\nbanks covered with reddish irony mould, not unlike old red sandstone;\nthese deposits however we afterwards found to be fine clay, containing\niron oxidized by exposure to the air, and very slippery to walk upon.\nFrom these red banks there stretches a gentle slope, mostly covered with\na brown and white silicious stuff like slag, such as is seen on many\ngarden walks. On this little slope are the Geysers; and all the springs\noccur within the small space of about fifty acres.\n\nThe great Geyser is the most northern, and lies on our extreme left.\nFrom where we stand, it resembles an artificial mill pond with an\nembankment rising all round it and slanting\u2014to compare great things with\nsmall\u2014like the sides of a limpet-shell from which the top or cone has\nbeen struck off. Clouds of white vapour hovered over it, as it lay\ngleaming like a silver shield. Near it, is our tent, and a heap of\nboxes, saddles, and other gear lying piled on the ground.\n\nA little higher up and nearer us, on the right, lies the tranquil and\nbeautiful spring of Blesi. More to the right, but lower down, that dark\nhole like a well is Strokr. Yet further, in the same direction, the\nlittle Geyser is in full play, sending up numerous jets of water like a\nfountain; while volumes of steam are rising from it, and rolling away to\nthe south. To the right of the little Geyser, and on the slope which\nruns down eastward below it, are numerous little round pools, close\ntogether, which reflect the sky, and look as if they were blue eyes\ngazing from earth to heaven. Little jets and puffs of white vapour rise\nfrom among them. Several farms are in sight; cattle are grazing on the\nplain; tern and snipe are flying athwart the sky; wind-clouds are\ngathering in the north; but the hazy veil in the south-east, which\nconceals Hekla and other mountains in that direction, has not been\nlifted. Instead of being sated with the scene before us, wonder\nincreases every time we survey it, or dwell on the striking features of\nits marvellous phenomena.\n\nIt was now between ten and eleven o\u2019clock P.M. We descended leisurely to\nthe brink of the Geyser, were joined by several of our party, and there\nsang several fine old psalm-tunes, such as \u201cYork\u201d and the \u201cOld Hundred,\u201d\nin full harmony.\n\nThese, associated as they ever are in our minds with the language of\nScripture, lost none of their impressive grandeur, thus heard by waters\nthat are not always still, in the land of destroying mountains, burnt\nmountains, earthquakes, and storms. Where we have Geysers\u2014gushers or\npourers forth\u2014as in the valley of Siddim; indeed, there is a valley with\nthe very same name, rendered in Icelandic instead of Hebrew, viz.\nGeysadal, a little to the north-west of Krabla. Places with parched\nground, waste and desolate; a wilderness wherein there is no man. A land\nwhere red-hot pumice or ashes, fire and brimstone, shot up into the air\nby volcanoes, have oft-times been rained from heaven; and, on every side\nthe once molten lava flood\u2014which is graphically described by Job as\novertaking and arresting mortals, carrying their substance away and\ndevouring their riches by fire\u2014may be observed crossing the ancient\ntrack.\n\nWhere, excepting for a few months in the year, hoar-frost is scattered\nlike ashes, and the treasures of the snow or of the hail are not hid;\nand the face of the deep itself is often frozen. Again, He causeth His\nwind to blow and the waters flow.\n\nWhere spring comes with the small rain on the tender herb; valleys are\nwatered by springs; grass grows for the cattle, and the pastures are\nclothed with flocks. Where we encounter nomades pitching their tents,\nand many old eastern customs that remind us of the dwellers in\nMesopotamia. Where we behold the eagle mounting on high and spreading\nabroad her wings, and hear the young ravens which cry. The swan too, and\nother migratory birds may be seen stretching their wings towards the\nsouth. Around its shores leviathans play in the deep; and there too go\nthe ships.\n\nHere in an especial manner we are reminded, at every step, of the\nwondrous works of Him who looketh on the earth and it trembleth; He\ntoucheth the hills and they smoke: the mountains quake at Him and the\nhills melt, and the earth is burnt at His presence. His fury is poured\nout like fire, and the rocks are thrown down by Him. The earth shook and\ntrembled, the foundations of the hills moved and were shaken. Truly\nwonderful are His works, who maketh His angels spirits, His ministers a\nflaming fire!\n\nSuch were some of our thoughts as we stood, at midnight, singing these\ngrand old psalm tunes, by the side of the Geyser; reminded, in a\npeculiar manner, that the whole surface of the globe is after all but a\nthin crust, cooled down and caked over the great molten central mass of\nliquid fire which constitutes our planet; and how easily, were latent\nforces called forth, or even were those powers which are already\ndeveloped only roused into more energetic action, the whole might\nexplode[10] like a shell filled with molten iron\u2014the myriad scattered\nfragments then \u201cspinning down the ringing grooves of change\u201d as a shower\nof asteroids\u2014nor could the orphaned moon survive the dire catastrophe!\n\n[Illustration: THE GREAT GEYSER.]\n\nAlthough midnight is spoken of, it was quite light, and I sketched for\nnearly an hour and a half, beginning at a quarter-past 12 o\u2019clock.\nBefore Professor Chadbourne left for the night-quarters which Z\u00f6ga had\nsecured for him at the neighbouring farm, we two stood together on the\nbrink of the Great Geyser, filled our glasses with its hot water\u2014pure,\nand, as soon as it cooled down below the scalding point, drank to absent\nfriends on both sides of the Atlantic; this toast having special\nreference to our own distant homes. Then four separate Geyser-bumpers\nwere devoted respectively to Longfellow, William and Mary Howitt, Dr.\nLaurence Edmondston of Shetland, and G\u00edsli Brynj\u00falfsson the Icelandic\npoet.\n\nProperly speaking there was no night at all; only a slight dim towards\ntwo o\u2019clock in the morning, which I took as a hint to get quietly under\nthe canvas of our tent. The wind rose, increasing to a gale; our\ntent-lining came down and the sides flapped up, fluttering in the wind\nwith a noise like platoon firing. For me, sleep was impossible; but as I\nwas very tired and things could not well be much worse, I patiently lay\nstill till five o\u2019clock in the morning, when we all rose, and Z\u00f6ga\nstruck the tent. The wind blowing from the north-coast, on which many\nicebergs were at present stranded, was piercingly cold, and reminded us\nof the Duke\u2019s allusion, in the forest of Arden, to\n\n \u201cThe icy fang\n And churlish chiding of the winter\u2019s wind;\n Which when it bites and blows upon my body\n Even till I shrink with cold, I smite and say,\n This is no flattery.\u201d\n\nAs breakfast would not be ready for a couple of hours, I took some\nbrandy and hot water at the Geyser, literally to stop my teeth from\nchattering, and descended into the gully behind to examine the banks of\ncoloured clay. These lie, just under the Geyser, on the north-west side.\nSteam may be observed escaping from many little clay holes, and the\nsound of boiling may be heard inside at places where there are no holes.\nThis hot clay is deposited in horizontal layers, red, purple, violet,\nwhite, light blue, and pale green. These colours occur by themselves,\nand are also occasionally found mixed together, mottled and variegated\nlike a cake of fancy soap or a sheet of marble paper. Judging by the\ntaste, the clay seems impregnated with sulphuric acid; and, to the\ntouch, it is of a very fine consistency, having no grit whatever. I\nsecured specimens of the finest colours, cutting them like butter with a\ntable knife, and filled several empty preserved-meat cans to take home\nfor analysis. The colours are most beautiful, but, apparently caused by\noxydized iron, would, I fear, be useless as pigments. If this fine clay\ncould be put to any use in the potteries, thousands of tons might be\nobtained here and also at Krisuvik.\n\nWhat leads me to suppose that the colouring matter of the alumina\nchiefly consists of iron, is the fact that, excepting where the layers\nwere evidently freshly laid bare to view by water or by some other\nmechanical means, the banks, however beautifully variegated beneath,\ninvariably exhibited no colour but red on the surface; or, in other\nwords, the iron was uniformly oxydized by exposure to the air.[11]\n\nFurther down the gully, we came upon large rough slabs of whitish stone,\nbeautifully variegated with tints of violet, red, and yellow, dashed\nwith blue. These were in compact laminae, and each colour about the\nfourth of an inch in thickness. In several instances however the\ncolours, as in the clays, were mixed. I broke up several masses, and\nsecured a number of the most characteristic and beautiful specimens. We\nalso obtained chalcedony and agate, at times approaching to opal; these\nand cornelian being only varieties of silex, colour making the chief\ndifference.\n\nBefore filling some bottles with Geyser water, as the wind was fresh, I\nset one of them afloat to be carried across the basin before it. When\nthe half of its venturous voyage was accomplished and it had reached the\ntube in the centre, a little eruption came on, by which the bottle was\nthrown up, and floated over the outer edge of the basin. I succeeded in\ngetting hold of it uninjured, arrested in a little pool amid the boiling\nwater which was flowing down the sides, and afterwards filled it,\nmarking it specially for Dr. R. Angus Smith;\u2014\u201cone whose name,\u201d in a\ndifferent sense however from that in which Keats used the expression,\n\u201cis writ in water,\u201d and let me add, in _air_ too; for, in connection\nwith sanatory matters and the supply or purification of these two\nhealth-giving elements to towns, no man in Europe has analyzed more\nwater; nor was there any known index of local atmospheric insalubrity\nbut the mortality bills, till he made his great discovery\u2014the Air-test.\nOn all such subjects there is no higher scientific authority.\n\nWandering, once more to bid farewell to the other springs, we could not\nbut remark that the whole slope is a thin crust, with innumerable\ncaldrons below; these each preserve their individuality, although the\ncentral heat be common to all, for the various eruptions seem to be\nquite independent of each other. Blesi was quite tranquil during the\neruption of its neighbour the great Geyser; and the other springs take\nas little notice of the Little Geyser\u2019s activity as it does of Strokr.\nWonder ever increases, although the ground has been gone over so often\nas to be already quite familiar to us.\n\nBreakfast waits and is soon despatched with keen relish. Packing done,\nhorses ready, and a guide left to find three that have strayed, we start\non our return journey to Thingvalla and Reykjavik at a quarter to eight\nA.M. Truly, as Shakspere hath it,\n\n \u201cNature oftentimes breaks forth\n In strange eruptions!\u201d\n\nThe wind was still from the north and bitterly chill. On rounding the\nshoulder of the hill, we picked up the Professor, at the farm house. The\nroom he slept in had been all carefully washed out on purpose to receive\nhim, the earthen floor as well, so that it was very damp. He was\nassisted to undress by the hostess, till he called a halt, and insisted\non retaining some portion of his under-clothing. Then, after he lay\ndown, a basin of milk was brought and placed at his bed-side. Had he\nlooked under the pillow, he would probably have discovered a bottle of\nbrandy deposited there for his own especial use; but, as the worthy\nProfessor would have left it precisely as he found it, no \u201csense of\nloss\u201d dawned upon him when the probability was hinted at.\n\nRector Jonson subsequently explained to me the rationale of the hostess,\nor her daughter, attending to guests. Among the Icelanders, wet feet and\nthorough drenchings are incident to locomotion. It is the universally\nacknowledged duty of the female department to render the way-worn\ntraveller such assistance as he may require, taking away his wet\nstockings and mud-soaked garments at night, and returning them to him,\ndry and comfortable, in the morning. This simple old custom, which is\nalso to be met with in various parts of Norway and Sweden, will give the\nkey to many funny exaggerations on the subject, where the art of putting\nthings has been employed chiefly in the direction of the ludicrous.\n\nWe see on the way many lovely wild flowers, which confirm our previous\nobservation that they are larger in the petals, but smaller in the\nleaves and stems than the same kinds at home; the aroma is also less.\nThis is caused by their receiving more light and less heat, in the short\nIcelandic summer, than in more southern climes.\n\nGraceful white sea-swallows are darting about; curlews are very tame,\nflying within a few yards of us or sitting unconcerned on stones till we\nride past them, noting their beautifully speckled breasts, long bent\nbills, and plaintive tremulous whistle.\n\n[Illustration: SKAPT\u00c1R J\u00d6KUL.]\n\nThe atmosphere was now much clearer, and many distant snow-covered\nmountains were visible on our left. Z\u00f6ga pointed out one of a peculiar\nshape, which he informed us was Skapt\u00e1r J\u00f6kul, the most destructive\nvolcano in the island. Of this, however, again.\n\nA bird, with a red breast, perched on a block of lava near us; this, the\nProfessor told me, was the American robin. It seemed as large as our\nblackbird.\n\n[Illustration: MOUNT HEKLA.]\n\nRetracing our steps, we crossed the Bruar\u00e1, ascended the heights, and at\nlength got into the green level plain, halting at the same spot where we\nhad rested in coming along. Here we obtained a magnificent view of\nHekla, and made a number of sketches. The prospect varies but little, as\nwe ride along skirting the hills and at length ascend them on the other\nside of the plain. From this point, Hekla still appears dome-shaped; the\nthree peaks being scarcely perceptible from the distance\u2014about thirty\nmiles\u2014at which we stand, and only indicated by very slight dints in its\nrounded outline. The mountain, covered with snow and mottled here and\nthere with black patches, rises beyond a low range of purple hills and\ntowers high above them, in shape and colour not unlike Mont Blanc as\nseen from the banks of the Arve below Geneva, if we could only imagine\nthe monarch of mountains deprived of his surrounding Aiguilles, and left\nstanding alone over the vale of Chamouni.\n\nThe bird\u2019s-eye view of the great flat green plain, with rivers\nmeandering through it, which stretches from the low range of purple\nhills over which Hekla rises to the foot of the heights on which we now\nride, is both striking and picturesque.\n\nAbout twenty volcanoes have been in action in Iceland for the last 1000\nyears. Of these the eruptions of Hekla have been the most frequent,\nalthough by no means so destructive as many of the others. Only\nattaining a height of about 5000 feet, it owes its celebrity to the\nfrequency of its eruptions; to its rising from a plain, being visible\nfrom a frequented part of the island, and quite accessible; and also to\nthe fact of its being well seen, from the sea, by vessels sailing to\nGreenland and North America. Four and twenty eruptions, of lava, sand or\npumice, are recorded; the last having occurred in 1846. The intervals\nbetween these eruptions vary from six to seventy-six years, the average\nperiod being thirty-five; but some of them have lasted as long as six\nyears at a time.\n\nWe give an account of one of these eruptions, selecting that of 1766,\nwhich was remarkable for its violence. \u201cFour years before it took place,\nwhen Olafsen and Povelsen were there, some of the people were flattering\nthemselves with the belief, that as there had been no outbreak from the\nprincipal crater for upwards of seventy years, its energies were\ncompletely exhausted. Others on the contrary, thought that there was on\nthis account only more reason to expect that it would soon again\ncommence. The preceding winter was remarkably mild, so that the lakes\nand rivers in the vicinity seldom froze, and were much diminished,\nprobably from the internal heat. On the 4th April 1766, there were some\nslight shocks of an earthquake; and early next morning a pillar of sand,\nmingled with fire and red hot stones, burst with a loud thundering noise\nfrom its summit. Masses of pumice, six feet in circumference, were\nthrown to the distance of ten or fifteen miles, together with heavy\nmagnetic stones, one of which, eight pounds weight, fell fourteen miles\noff, and sank into the ground though still hardened by the frost. The\nsand was carried towards the north-west, covering the land, one hundred\nand fifty miles round, four inches deep; impeding the fishing boats\nalong the coast, and darkening the air, so that at Thingore, 140 miles\ndistant, it was impossible to know whether a sheet of paper was white or\nblack. At Holum, 155 miles to the north, some persons thought they saw\nthe stars shining through the sand-cloud. About mid-day, the wind\nveering round to the south-east, conveyed the dust into the central\ndesert, and prevented it from totally destroying the pastures. On the\n9th April the lava first appeared, spreading about five miles towards\nthe south-west, and on the 23d May, a column of water was seen shooting\nup in the midst of the sand. The last violent eruption was on the 5th\nJuly, the mountains in the interval often ceasing to eject any matter;\nand the large stones thrown into the air were compared to a swarm of\nbees clustering round the mountain-top; the noise was heard like loud\nthunder forty miles distant, and the accompanying earthquakes were more\nsevere at Krisuvik, eighty miles westward, than at half the distance on\nthe opposite side. The eruptions are said to be in general more violent\nduring a north or west wind than when it blows from the south or east,\nand on this occasion more matter was thrown out in mild than in stormy\nweather. Where the ashes were not too thick, it was observed that they\nincreased the fertility of the grass fields, and some of them were\ncarried even to the Orkney islands, the inhabitants of which were at\nfirst terrified by what they considered showers of \u201cblack snow.\u201d[12]\n\nThis mountain, with its pits of burning sulphur and mud, and openings\nfrom whence issue smoke and flames, is associated with the old\nsuperstitions of the Icelanders as the entrance to the dark abode of\nHela, and those gloomy regions of woe where the souls of the wicked are\ntormented with fire. Nor are these ideas to be wondered at in connection\nwith the terrible phenomena of such an Inferno.\n\nAs Hekla lay gleaming peacefully in the sunshine, with a heavier mantle\nof snow, we are told, than usual, I bade adieu to it by attempting yet\nanother sketch from the pony\u2019s back, pulling the rein for five minutes,\nand then galloping on after my companions.\n\nHaving rounded the shoulder of the hill, we now lost sight of Hekla and\nthe greater part of the plain. In a region where some brushwood and a\nfew flowers grew among dark coloured rocks, we came upon a fine example\nof ropy looking lava, curiously wrinkled in cooling, and all corrugated\nin wavy lines. Soon afterwards we saw a sloping mass of rock, some sixty\nfeet square, inclined at an angle of 25\u00b0, polished smooth by the\nice-drift, and deeply abraded in grooves, all running southwards. The\nmarks were not to be mistaken, and were more distinct than those we had\nobserved in coming.\n\nHere I gathered specimens of geraniums and other flowers, placing them\nbetween the leaves of my pocket Wordsworth. Coming to a glade of dwarf\nwillows, we observed bees feeding on the flowers of the flossy species,\nand were forthwith, even in this northern region, reminded of Mount\nHybla, recalling Virgil\u2019s line,\n\n \u201cHybl\u00e6is apibus florem depast\u00e2 salicti.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: LAKE OF THINGVALLA.]\n\nThe Professor, Mr. Murray, and I, riding together, now reached and\ndescended the Hrafnagj\u00e1 or Raven\u2019s Chasm, which has already been\ndescribed. It was steeper than a stair, full of breaks and irregular\nturns. At some places, the ponies drew up their hind legs and slid down.\nIt seems more perilous to descend than to climb such places, but the\nponies are very sure-footed. On a bosky slope, I pulled the bridle and\nmade a sketch of the lake of Thingvalla, the waters of which were\nintensely blue.\n\nCrossing the plain of Thingvalla, we reached our rendezvous\u2014the Pastor\u2019s\nhouse\u2014about nine o\u2019clock at night, after a splendid day\u2019s ride; some of\nus, much to our own surprise, being not only in excellent spirits, but\nfresh and in good physical condition; rough-riding feats and prolonged\nfatigues notwithstanding. We dined on trout, soup, &c.; and at 20\nminutes to 11 P.M. I wandered out, alone, to the Althing to sketch and\ngather flowers.\n\nThe three lost ponies, that strayed from the Geysers, have just come in.\nI see them now scampering before the guide and passing the waterfall of\nthe Oxer\u00e1, which thunders over the black rock-wall, about half a mile\nfrom the descent into the Almannagj\u00e1. The fall looks like a square sheet\nof burnished silver from the sacred L\u00f6gberg or Hill of Laws, on which I\nnow sit writing, entrenched and moated round with deep volcanic chasms\nabout two-thirds filled with clear water.\n\nSkialdbreid\u2014or Broadshield\u2014J\u00f6kul, to the north-west, is mottled towards\nits base with black patches, but its summit and flanks are lit up with\npure roseate light. Armannsfell, one of a range nearer and more to the\nnorth, is of a dark rich venetian red colour touched with bronze and\nexhibits a living glow, an effect I have never elsewhere seen equalled\nor even approached. Whereever the light falls, all is transfigured and\nglorious beyond description; yet there is no approach to hardness,\neither of line or tint, but an atmosphere of subduing softness,\ntransparency, and purity, magically invests everything with an etherial\nspiritual beauty: such effects are peculiar to Iceland.\n\nHaving made a sketch of the lake, I retired to rest, the last of our\nparty. We slept, without undressing, in our old quarters\u2014on the floor of\nthe pastor\u2019s parlour.\n\n\n_Tuesday morning._\u2014Rose between five and six o\u2019clock, and went out to\ngather ferns\u2014_aspidium_ or _crystoperis_\u2014on the Althing. The scene\naround was singularly wild, and yet strikingly picturesque in its\ndesolate strangeness; while the tender green of the valley itself\nafforded a refreshing rest to the eye. On returning I made a sketch of\nthe priest\u2019s house;[13] examined the site of the little church which was\nbeing re-erected; strolled down by the river side, and performed my\nablutions in it\u2014laying my clothes in the priest\u2019s fishing coble, which\nwas lying hauled up on the bank.\n\nI then paused at the simple churchyard close by, and tried to conjure up\nlife and heart histories for those who had entered this\n\u201cSaula-hleith\u201d\u2014or soul-gate, as the churchyard is beautifully\nnamed\u2014while hymns were being chanted over them, and who were now resting\npeacefully beneath the green sod.\n\nConversation with the pastor was again attempted to be carried on in\nLatin. His morning salutation was \u201cbonus dies,\u201d or other remarks about\nthe weather, as with ourselves. After squaring accounts, on leaving, we\ngave him\u2014as a _nimbus_ for the rix-dollars\u2014a mediaeval \u201cpax-vobiscum,\u201d\nin exchange for his many expressions of good-will towards us, and his\nrounded classical \u201cvale!\u201d\n\nThe glebe hay was being tedded, but the ground here as elsewhere is\ncovered with little hummocks. Were it only levelled and drained, the\nsoil, one would think, should raise turnips in quantity, and, certainly,\nlarger hay crops would be obtained. During the short summer there is not\ntime for the grain to ripen; but food suitable for cattle might readily\nbe grown in the valleys; for it is chiefly by the rearing of stock, that\nIceland, when she can muster the requisite enterprise and activity,\nwill, in all probability, advance to commercial prosperity.\n\nAfter sketching the gorge of the Almannagj\u00e1\u2014see illustration, p. 81\u2014we\nascended it, crossed the lava plateau, and rapidly retraced our steps to\nthe capital, only pausing now and again to take a sketch.\n\n[Illustration: ICELANDIC FARM.]\n\nOver the last part of our journey, from the river which we forded just\nbelow the farm house on the hill, to Reykjavik, we rode like the\nwind\u2014men and horses alike eager to get to the end of their journey. Our\nentry into the town was a regular scrimmage. It was a quarter to three\nP.M. when we got in, having done the distance from Thingvalla in six\nhours. By this time we had ceased to wonder at any feats performed by\nthe ponies. Seldom, if ever, disconcerted, they go at anything in a most\npatient philosophical manner, and get over difficulties which elsewhere\none would think insurmountable, and sheer madness to attempt. Thanks to\nmackintosh overboots\u2014made specially for the purpose\u2014at the end of the\njourney, I was the only one of our party whose feet were dry.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n \u201cDi rado\n Incontra, me rispose, che di nui\n Faccia il cammino alcun per quale io vado.\u201d L 19-21.\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n Pronounced Tingvatla.\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n In the same way a river in Perthshire is called Bruar; evidently from\n the natural rock-bridge by which it is spanned.\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n Dr. Black\u2019s analysis of the Geyser water is\u2014\n\n Soda, 0.95\n Dry Sulphate of Soda, 1.46\n Muriate of Soda, 2.46\n Silica, 5.40\n Alumina, 0.48\n \u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\n 10.75\n\nFootnote 10:\n\n From the specific gravity of the globe, taken in connection with the\n increasing ratio of heat as we descend from the surface, it is\n calculated that all metals and rocks are melted at a depth of thirty\n miles below the sea level, and that the fluid mass is chiefly _melted\n iron_; while the temperature would indicate somewhere about 4000\u00b0\n Fahrenheit.\n\nFootnote 11:\n\n The specimens nearly all became red before they got home, and Dr. R.\n Angus Smith, F.R.S. &c., has since fully confirmed my surmise as to\n the origin of the colours.\n\nFootnote 12:\n\n See Olafsen\u2019s Reise, th. ii. p. 138-140. Finnsen\u2019s Efterretning om\n Tildragelserne ved Bierget Hekla. (Copenhagen 1767). Barry\u2019s Orkney\n Islands, p. 13; quoted by the author of Iceland, Greenland, and the\n Far\u00f6e Islands, pp. 30-1.\n\nFootnote 13:\n\n See illustration at p. 84.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n REYKJAVIK.\n\n\nMr. Bushby invited us to dine with him at the hotel, and Dr. Mackinlay\nkindly gave us his room to dress in.\n\nHow oddly things sometimes turn up! We saw lying on the floor a box of\n\u201cBrown and Polson\u2019s Patent Corn Flour,\u201d which at once suggested two very\ndifferent, although not incongruous, trains of ideas; one, the contrast\nbetween the hurry and bustle of railway stations in Britain, where the\ncorn flour is everywhere so extensively advertised, and the primitive\nlocomotion of Iceland, in which not a single steam engine has been\nerected; and the other, associating the beautiful locality where the\nflour is made\u2014near Paisley, at the foot of \u201cthe Braes of Gleniffer\u201d\ncelebrated in song by Tannahill, one of Scotland\u2019s sweetest\nminstrels\u2014with some of the loveliest scenes we had lately witnessed. For\nhere, are we not in the land of Eddas and Sagas! and is not the Poet\nfound singing wherever there are human hearts!\n\nA gentleman told me, that having obtained permission, he had, that\nafternoon, caught seventy trout in the salmon river\u2014three of them from\nhis pony\u2019s back; he had only to throw the fish over his head on the\ngrass behind him, as fast as he could whip them up. He had seen a\nfisherman get 130 at one haul of the net. I saw the manager of the\nfishery, an active intelligent Scotchman, whom, from his appearance, one\nwould take to be the mate of a vessel. He told me he had been three\nyears in Iceland, and had some of his family here with him.\n\nMr. Bushby procured us several specimens of double refracting Iceland\nspar, obtained from the other side of the island. It polarizes light,\nand is valuable in various ways, both to science and the arts.\n\nMr. Murray and Mr. Cleghorn set out after dinner to visit the sulphur\nmines of Krisuvik; I, on the principle of letting well alone, preferred\nremaining at Reykjavik to undergoing the fresh fatigue of such a ride\nimmediately after the Geyser journey. Three of us spent the evening, by\ninvitation, at the Governor\u2019s\u2014the Count Von Trampe. I had a long\nconversation with him in German, during which he mentioned that all the\nold Saga and Edda MSS. had been removed to Copenhagen; and, in answer to\nsundry enquiries, told me that the \u201clang spiel\u201d is the only Icelandic\nmusical instrument now in use. It is something like a guitar or banjo,\nhas four strings, and is played with a little bow. The airs now played\nare chiefly Danish dance music, and other foreign melodies.\n\nThe Icelanders, like the natives of Madagascar, have adopted the music\nof our \u201c_God save the Queen_\u201d as their national air. The words to which\nit is sung were composed in the beginning of the present century, by the\nlate Biarni Thorarensen, Governor of the northern province of the\nisland, when he was a student at the university of Copenhagen. The song\nis called \u201cIslands Minni,\u201d or the \u201cRemembrance of Iceland;\u201d and finely\nillustrates the intense love of country displayed by Icelanders, who,\nwherever they may travel or sojourn, always sooner or later return home\nthough but to die; for to them, as their own proverb has it, \u201cIceland is\nthe best land on which the sun shines.\u201d We here give the words of this\nnational song, which, calling up in foreign lands memories of sweet\nhome, is no less to the Icelander, than is the _Ranz de Vaches_ to the\nSwiss when far away from the one chalet he loves best in the world,\nperched, it may be, on the lofty mountain side, or lying peacefully in\nsome green sunny valley.\n\n[Illustration: MUSIC IN AN ICELANDIC HOME.]\n\n ISLANDS MINNI.\n\n\n I.\n\n Eldgamla Isafold,\n Astk\u00e6ra f\u00f3sturmold,\n Fjallkonan fr\u00edd!\n M\u00f6gum th\u00edn muntu k\u00e6r,\n Medan l\u00f6nd girdir s\u00e6r\n Og gumar girnast m\u00e6r;\n Glj\u00e1r s\u00f3l \u00e1 hl\u00edd.\n\n II.\n\n Hafnar \u00far gufu h\u00e9r\n Heim allir girnumst v\u00e9r\n Thig thekka ad sj\u00e1;\n Glepur oss glaumurinn,\n Ginnir oss sollurinn,\n Hl\u00e6r ad oss heimskinginn\n Hafnar sl\u00f3d \u00e1.\n\n III.\n\n Leidist oss fjall-laust fr\u00f3n,\n F\u00e6r oss opt heilsutj\u00f3n\n Thokulopt l\u00e9d;\n Sviplj\u00f3tt land synist m\u00e9r\n S\u00edfelt ad vera h\u00e9r,\n Sem neflaus \u00e1synd er\n Augnalaus med.\n\n IV.\n\n \u00d6druv\u00eds er ad sj\u00e1\n A thjer hv\u00edtfaldinn h\u00e1\n Heid-himin vid;\n Eda th\u00e6r krystalls \u00e1r,\n A hverjar s\u00f3lin glj\u00e1r,\n Og heidar himin-bl\u00e1r,\n H\u00e1-j\u00f6kla rid.\n\n V.\n\n Eldgamla Isafold,\n Astk\u00e6ra f\u00f3sturmold,\n Fjallkonan fr\u00edd!\n Ag\u00e6tust audnan th\u00e9r\n Upp lypt, bidjum v\u00e9r,\n Medan ad uppi er\n Oll heimsins t\u00edd![14]\n\nFrom the literal prose-rendering into English which follows, the reader\nwill be able to gather how beautiful such thoughts must be, when clothed\nin the flowing rhythmic music of the original stanzas.\n\n THE REMEMBRANCE OF ICELAND.\n\n\n I.\n\n\n Old land of ice,\n Dearly beloved native land,\n Fair maid of the mountains!\n Dear thou shalt be to thy sons\n As long as land is surrounded by sea;\n As men love women;\n Or sun-gleam falls on the hill-side.\n\n II.\n\n Here, from the midst of Copenhagen\u2019s smoke,\n We all yearning after home\n Long, dear one, again to behold thee.\n The noisy din irks us;\n Revelry tempts us in vain;\n And the fool jeers contemptuously at us\n In the streets of Copenhagen.\n\n III.\n\n We are tired of a mountainless land;\n We are constantly losing our health\n In this smoky thick atmosphere;\n I find this country everywhere\n To be destitute of fine features,\n A land like a face without nose,\n And even without eyes.\n\n IV.\n\n How different it is to see\n Thy high-peaked head-dress of snowy white[15]\n Reaching the cloudless sky;\n Or the crystal rivers\n Which sparkle in the sunshine;\n And the bright blue heavens\n Over the j\u00f6kul\u2019s brow.\n\n V.\n\n Old land of ice,\n Dearly beloved native land,\n Fair maid of the mountains!\n The best luck attend thee\n Ever, we pray,\n As long as shall last\n All the years of the world!\n\nOne or two old Icelandic airs linger amongst the people, but are seldom\nheard; and as there was\u2014so I understood the Governor to say\u2014no musical\nnotation to hand them down, little reliance can be placed on their\naccurate transmission.\n\nI was introduced to the Compte d\u2019Ademas of the _Artemise_ frigate, an\nofficer who speaks English well. He is Lord Dufferin\u2019s cousin. There\nwere several other French officers present. After leaving the\nGovernor\u2019s, we called for M. Randr\u00f6p, the state\u2019s apothecary, who\nreceived us in the wonted hospitable Icelandic manner. Madam Randr\u00f6p\nkindly played to us on the piano-forte \u201cRobin Adair,\u201d \u201cCheer Boys,\u201d \u201cFin\nchan dal vino,\u201d \u201cHear me, Norma,\u201d a Danish dance, and an Icelandic song.\nHer two daughters, the Misses M\u00fcller, are learning English, and her son\nis going south by our steamer to attend the university at Copenhagen.\n\nThe _Arcturus_ having left the bay and gone somewhere for cargo, and the\nfew bedrooms upstairs at the hotel being all occupied, as it was late,\nwe resolved to sleep down stairs on the narrow sofa-seat which runs\nround the assembly room.\n\nThrough a large door, that opened into the billiard-room, came the loud\nclicking of ivory balls, noisy vociferations from the French sailors,\nand strong fumes of tobacco; notwithstanding which, we somehow contrived\nto fall asleep, and knew no more till the morning, when we beheld\nblue-eyed flaxen-haired Thea, the maid-of-all-work, standing before us.\nShe was clad in a close fitting dress of home-made stuff, wore the\ncommon little jaunty black cap with its silver ornament and long silk\ntassel flowing down at the side of her head, and her waist-belt was\ncovered with richly-wrought filigreed bossy silver ornaments.\n\nShe brought in a cup of coffee and milk and a biscuit, depositing them\non a little table which she placed beside my long narrow couch. This\ngood old Norse custom is called \u201cthe little breakfast;\u201d and, from the\nexperience of years, I can testify that in no way does it interfere with\nor spoil the regular breakfast which follows, while the benefit at the\ntime is undeniable.\n\nThen followed water, soap and towels, indicating that we were expected\nto get up; and as breakfast was to be served in the apartment where we\nlay, Thea\u2019s hint was speedily taken.\n\nAfter breakfast I called for Mr. Sivertsen, who procured for me some\ncoarse mits, made with two thumbs but no finger-divisions. These are the\ncustomary wear of the fishermen, who, when the line cuts the one side,\nare thus enabled to turn them and use the other. I also obtained a\ncurious snuff box like a bottle,[16] made of walrus-tooth; a collection\nof stuffed birds, with a large black skua, a pair of Richardson\u2019s\nskua-gulls, a pair of jer-falcons, an eider duck and drake, a puffin, an\narctic gull, and a pair of pheasant-tailed ducks among them; also silver\nbracelets and brooches of exquisite workmanship. These trinkets are made\nof Danish dollars by native silver-smiths, who have certainly arrived at\ngreat proficiency in their art.\n\nI found that the few English Testaments I had brought with me to give\naway, were greatly prized by those who were acquiring our language; the\ncheapest edition of the New Testament in Icelandic costs between three\nand four shillings.\n\nLast night Captain Launay, of the _Agile_ French war brig, had called at\nthe hotel and invited us to visit him, on board his vessel, to-day at 11\no\u2019clock. At the appointed time we went down to the jetty and found a\nten-oared boat waiting for us. Our party consisted of Dr. Mackinlay,\nCaptain Forbes, Mr. Haycock, Rector Jonson and his daughter, Professor\nChadbourne, and myself. We were kindly received and shown over the brig;\neverything on board was neat and clean; the sailors were, for the most\npart, diminutive in size, like Maltese, and, although lithe and agile,\nwanted the physical build and stamina of British sailors. The men were\nat mess and seemed to be well cared for.\n\nIn the captain\u2019s cabin, cakes, bonbons, and champagne were produced, and\nwe were entertained by the officers with that frank and graceful\nhospitality peculiar to the French. Captain Launay showed us collections\nof geological specimens from Far\u00f6e, from the east of Iceland, and also\nfrom the neighbourhood of Reykjavik; all kept distinctly separated, and\nlaudably labelled as such specimens ever ought to be. He offered me what\nof them I wished, and then addressing Professor Chadbourne, added, \u201cTake\nall, and leave me one, I am only an amateur\u201d! He gave me some Far\u00f6ese\nsea-weeds of his own preserving, and I also accepted one or two little\ngeological specimens as mementos of a pleasant hour spent with one who\nis deservedly a favourite with all who know him.\n\nThe sailors, he told me, called him Captain Long-life, because he has\nbeen five years in the north without losing a man. His present crew is a\nhundred, but during that period, he has, one way and another, passed a\nthousand men through his hands. This happy result he attributes partly\nto the regular use of lime juice, which he flavours and renders\npalatable by mixing it with a little brandy or rum. The addition of the\nspirits adds nothing to its virtue, probably the reverse, but the\nsailors like it so, and are thus induced to take it. In many ships, he\nadded, the men, if not watched, throw it over their heads into the sea.\n\nA boat came alongside with an invitation from Captain V\u00e9ron for us also\nto visit his frigate the _Artemise_. It has a crew of 250. The men were\nat mess between-decks; and, both seats and tables being swung, the\nperpendicular ropes made the whole look not unlike the floor of a great\nfactory. An officer took me over the ship and through the stores. What\nan immense establishment is a war ship!\n\nThe French officers are well paid, and have a handsome allowance per day\nfor mess, over and above their pay. On this station they have double\npay, are put to little expense, consequently save money fast, and get\nleave of absence now and again to go home and spend it. Here we were\nagain offered champagne but declined it; and, at half-past one P.M.,\nwere rowed ashore in a ten oared gig, much pleased with the kind frank\nattentions of all the officers.\n\nWhen we landed I called for Mr. Sivertsen, and afterwards visited the\nlibrary with Dr. Mackinlay. The Rev. Olaf P\u00e1lsson dean and rector of the\ncathedral, and Mr. J\u00f3n Arnason, secretary to the Bishop and also\nlibrarian, were there before us by appointment and kindly gave us every\ninformation we required. There were no manuscripts to be seen here older\nthan the fifteenth century, and these were chiefly genealogies, or\ntranslations of medi\u00e6val tales or romances such as \u201cCharlemagne.\u201d We saw\na fine folio edition of Snorro Sturleson\u2019s writings, and hastily looked\nover the work on Iceland got up by the French expedition under Gaimard.\nIt embraces views of places, natural history, manners and customs,\ncostumes &c. Some views of localities we had visited were very good, but\nothers were inaccurate and careless, being only modified compositions\ninstead of faithful representations of the places indicated. Ere\nleaving, I received several original little works, in Icelandic, both\nfrom the dean and the librarian; those from the former were inscribed in\nEnglish \u201cwith the author\u2019s best respects;\u201d and those from the latter\nwith a legend of similar import in Icelandic.\n\nAs the althing or parliament, which ceased to meet at Thingvalla in A.D.\n1800, was now assembled here, we went to see it. The place of meeting is\nan oblong hall in the same building as the college. You enter by the\nside, and see, facing you, a raised platform where the president and two\nor three officials sit at a table covered with papers and writing\nmaterials. Portraits in oil of the King and Queen of Denmark hung behind\nthem. On two rows of seats, like school forms with simple spar backs,\nsit the members, forming an oblong square around the table; visitors\nfind places outside this square. There are several writing desks and\nother conveniencies in the room.\n\nThe most of the deputies were sturdy intelligent looking\nmen\u2014peasant-farmers dressed in brass buttoned wadmal jackets, and\nwearing cow-skin shoes. On rising to speak, many of them expressed\nthemselves in an animated manner, which seemed to us, with the aid of\nMr. Brynj\u00falfsson\u2019s explanations and interpretations, to be at once\nfluent, pointed, eloquent, and effective.\n\nThe population of Iceland is, as already stated, 64,603. Parliament\nmeets every second year, and is composed of a deputy from each of the\neighteen syssels or counties into which the island is divided, and six\ndeputies, generally officials, nominated by the King. The members are\nelected by household suffrage, but, on account of the great distances,\nand the bad roads, few people care to vote. Dr. Mackinlay mentioned one\ncase, at last election, where a member had only one single vote\u2014and that\nhis own!! This indifference to matters political, as contrasted with the\nstirring old times when the Althing was supreme\u2014being then both\ndeliberative and executive, \u201cparliament and high court of justice in\none\u201d\u2014may be accounted for, by the fact that it does not now possess\nlegislative power. The result of its deliberations is merely a petition\nto the King, suggesting that certain things should be done; and only\nunder certain circumstances, can they levy taxes or recommend them.\n\nThe island is divided into three governments, each government being in\ncivil matters quite independent of the others. The governor or\nstiftsamptsman who resides at Reykjavik, is at the head of the civil\nadministration, \u201cconducts all public affairs, presides in the supreme\ncourts of justice, watches over the execution of the laws, the\ncollecting and expenditure of the public revenue, and, along with the\nBishop, directs the school, and appoints the clergy\u201d throughout the\nwhole island. The governor is sometimes a native of the island, though\noftener a Dane. \u201cHe continues in office five years, with a salary of\nabout \u00a3300 per annum, and is entitled to promotion on his return to\nDenmark. Under him are the amptmen, of whom there ought to be four, but\nas the governor holds this office in the southern province, and the\nnorthern and eastern are united, there are only two others. These have\nthe superintendence of the inferior officers, and nearly the same duties\nin their province as the governor exercises in relation to the whole\nisland. Subordinate to them are the sysselmen or sheriffs, nineteen in\nnumber, who are empowered to hold courts, appoint justices of the peace\nand notaries, and to administer the laws concerning inheritances. They\nare chosen by the crown from among the principal proprietors in the\ndistrict. Under these are the hrepp-stiorar or bailiffs, who assist the\nsheriff in preserving the peace and public order, and have at the same\ntime, the charge of the poor.\n\n\u201cAll causes civil and criminal, come in the first instance before the\nsysselman in the Heradsthing, one of which is held regularly, once in\ntwelve months, though extraordinary sessions are also called. This court\nconsists of the sheriff as judge, with four assistants named meddomsmen.\nThe landfoged or steward, who is receiver-general of the island, and\npolice-master of Reykjavik, holds a similar court in that town. From\ntheir decision there is an appeal to the highest tribunal, instituted in\nA.D. 1800, on the suppression of the althing, and which consists of the\ngovernor as president, who takes no part in the proceedings, a\nchief-justice, two assessors, a secretary, and two public pleaders.\nCases are here decided according to the native laws, or Jonsbook,\nintroduced in A.D. 1280, and the latter royal ordinances; and from their\njudgment the last appeal lies to the supreme court of Copenhagen. The\nhigh moral character of the people renders the last court nearly a\nsinecure,\u2014not more than six or eight cases, public or private, occurring\nannually. The crimes are mostly sheep-stealing and small thefts, and the\nonly punishments inflicted in the country are whipping or fines. Those\ncondemned to hard labour are sent to Copenhagen; and a peasant, being\ncapitally convicted many years ago, for murdering his wife, it was found\nnecessary to carry him to Norway for execution.\n\n\u201cThe taxes collected in the island, being very inconsiderable, impose\nlittle burthen on the inhabitants. They are principally levied on\nproperty according to several old customs; and payment is chiefly made\nin produce of various kinds, which is converted into money by the\nsysselman, and transmitted, after deducting a third for his own salary,\nto the landfoged or treasurer. The whole amount does not exceed 50,000\nrix-dollars, and does not even suffice for the support of the civil\ngovernment of the island.\u201d[17]\n\nThe machinery of civil government is well arranged; but the people are\npeaceable, and to a large extent govern themselves; thus rendering the\nduties of the officials very light. In reference to this pleasant state\nof matters, Dr. Mackinlay quaintly remarked, \u201cEach country is presided\nover by a sysselman or sheriff, who, besides his judicial duties, has to\ndischarge the duties of lord lieutenant and revenue officer, postmaster,\npoorlaw guardian and head constable. As the average population of each\nsyssel is only 3700, he has, after discharging all his duties, time\nenough on hand to be his own clerk and message boy!\u201d\n\nAt five o\u2019clock, Dr. Mackinlay, Mr. Haycock, Dr. Livingston, Professor\nChadbourne, and myself, dined at the hotel, with G\u00edsli Brynj\u00falfsson, Mr.\nBushby, and Captain Forbes; it was our last dinner at Reykjavik. The\n_Arcturus_ is to sail with us to-night at ten o\u2019clock for the east of\nthe island. All last things have a touch of sadness about them; we have\nbeen happy together, and shall not likely all meet again.\n\nMr. Murray and Mr. Cleghorn have not yet returned from Krisuvik. G\u00edsli\nBrynj\u00falfsson the poet is an M.P., and at present here to attend the\nalthing. He is employed, as already mentioned, by the government at\nCopenhagen in connection with Icelandic antiquities and literature, and\nhas a work on these subjects in preparation. He speaks English fluently,\nand gave us much interesting information.\n\nAfter dinner Dr. Mackinlay called with me for Mr. J\u00f3n Gudmundsson,\neditor of the \u201cThi\u00f3th\u00f3lfr,\u201d a Reykjavik newspaper\u2014a quarto sheet of 8\npp.\u2014in which, along with other news, the proceedings of the althing now\nsitting are reported in a condensed form. No particular time is fixed\nfor publication, so that it appears at irregular intervals when there is\nnews to communicate. Mr. Gudmundsson is an advocate, and holds an\nofficial appointment in the althing. He presented us with several\nnumbers of his paper. The type is clear and the paper good, so that it\nand another Reykjavik newspaper the \u201cIslendingur,\u201d a folio of 8\npp.,\u2014both printed at the same government office\u2014are without exception\nthe most beautifully printed newspapers I ever saw anywhere.\n\nIn Mr. Gudmundsson\u2019s house we saw medallions of Finn Magnusen, Finnsen,\nand other distinguished Icelanders. He was exceedingly polite and\ncourteous, but, as we knew he must be much occupied at present, we made\nour visit a short one.\n\nWe then saw Dr. Hjaltalin, chief physician of the island, and well known\nfor his antiquarian and scientific acquirements. He and Rector Jonson\nare good, tall, portly specimens of humanity. The latter good-naturedly\ntold me that when some one called him a John Bull, although he did not\nquite understand the phrase, he knew that it somehow associated him with\nEngland, and, for that reason, felt \u201cflattered\u2014very much flattered!\u201d\n\nOur friends returned while we were making calls, and describe their\nmoonlight ride of thirty miles to Krisuvik as more like a wild dream of\nchaos than a reality. Their path lay among lava chasms, along the tops\nof narrow lava ridges, irregularly jugged like a saw; through huge lava\nblocks, like ten thousand Stonehenges huddled together; over volcanic\nsand and cinder heaps; over hollow lava domes, and through great burst\nlava bubbles, or extinct craters. Lava everywhere, parts seemed like a\ntroubled sea which had been suddenly spelled into stone, and then\nroasted, baked and cracked. This scene has been aptly characterized by\nan old traveller as \u201ca congealed pandemonium.\u201d In a boggy valley were\nseen several boiling mud-caldrons, which exhale sulphurious fumes. These\ngases condense in the atmosphere and deposit a crust of sulphur, in\nlayers of various thickness, on the coloured clay banks on the side of\nthe hill. Many jets of steam and smoke rose around; while on their right\nlay the lovely blue lake of Kleifervatn. Mr. Bushby had kindly furnished\nthem with a letter to his agent, which procured for them such shelter\nand creature comforts as his iron house could afford.\n\nIt was now about 9 o\u2019clock; and, not without sincere regret, on pushing\noff from the shore, did we bid adieu to those kind-hearted, learned, yet\nsimple-minded gentlemen at Reykjavik, who had done so much to make our\nvisit to their island a pleasant one.\n\nWhile some ponies were being taken on board from a large boat alongside,\nthe steam was suddenly blown off; the noise frightening them, one jumped\ninto the sea and swam ashore, a distance of a mile, with a boat after\nit. However it was got on board again, none the worse for its adventure.\nIt turned out to be a pony which Mr. Murray had purchased, and was\ntaking south with him to Long-yester.\n\nMr. Brynj\u00falfsson had accompanied me to the steamer, and, before\nstarting, Mr. Arnason also came on board to bid us another adieu!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 14:\n\n See note at foot of page 65.\n\nFootnote 15:\n\n Alluding to the old Icelandic female head-dress which is now again\n being introduced\u2014See illustration p. 68.\n\nFootnote 16:\n\n See illustration at p. 53.\n\nFootnote 17:\n\n Hassel, vol. 10. p. 231-233. Mackenzie, p. 312-323. Henderson, vol. 1.\n p. xxvi. Barrow, pp. 293-305. Iceland, Greenland, and the Far\u00f6e\n Islands, pp. 209-10.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n[Illustration: OR\u00c6FA J\u00d6KUL, THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN IN ICELAND.]\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n J\u00d6KUL-RANGES AND VOLCANOES ON THE SOUTH COAST.\n\n\nAt ten o\u2019clock P.M., _August 3_, the anchor was heaved and we sailed for\nthe east of the island.\n\nThe bay at Reykjavik is very lovely. Every crevice of the Essian\nmountains is distinctly shown; while the positive colours and delicate\ntints of these and other heights rising far inland, which the eye takes\nin, in sweeping round the semicircle from Sn\u00e6fell to Skagi, are bright,\nvaried, and beautiful beyond description. Deep indigoes dashed with\npurple, violet peaks, pale lilac ranges; and, relieved against them,\ncones of dazzling snow and ice glittering like silver, side by side with\nrosy pinks and warm sunny browns, all rising over a foreground of black\nlava. The sky overhead is blue; and the northern horizon lit up with a\nmellow glow of golden light.\n\nThe frigate _Artemise_, the brig _Agile_, the Danish schooner _Emma_,\nand several trading vessels lying at anchor, animate the scene.\n\nSn\u00e6fell J\u00f6kul\u2014rising to the north-west on the extreme of yonder narrow\nridge that runs out due west into the sea for nearly fifty miles,\nseparating the Faxa from the Breida fiord\u2014dome-shaped, isolated and\nperpetually covered with snow, is now touched with living rosy light.\n\nAt its foot lie the singular basaltic rocks of Stappen, somewhat like\nthe Giant\u2019s Causeway, or the island of Staffa in the Hebrides. Indeed,\nstapp is the same word as staff, and indicates the character of the\ncolumnar formation.\n\n[Illustration: SN\u00c6FELL J\u00d6KUL\u2014FROM FIFTY MILES AT SEA.]\n\nFor the first time, since leaving home, we see the stars. One or two,\nonly, are shining in the quivering blue overhead, with a quiet, subdued,\npale golden light. I made a sketch of Sn\u00e6fell as it appeared from the\nquarter deck of the steamer at a distance of fifty miles; it seemed a\nlow cone rising from the sea. As the evening was calm and beautiful, ere\nretiring, we walked the deck till a late hour, musing on the structure\nand marvellous phenomena of this half-formed chaotic island, where Frost\nand Fire still strive for the mastery before our very eyes.\n\n\n_August 4._\u2014On getting upon deck, I found we were past Cape Reykjanes,\nand making for the Westmanna Islands. Eldey\u2014the rock like a\nmeal-sack\u2014lies, in the distance, far astern.\n\nMy place at table is between Dr. Mackinlay and Mr. Haycock, the latter\nbeing next the chairman Rector Jonson who is going to Copenhagen; Mr.\nMurray, Mr. Cleghorn, Professor Chadbourne and Dr. Livingston sit\nopposite. The Danes are all congregated at the other end of the table\nwith the captain.\n\nHalf-past three P.M. Saw Eyafialla J\u00f6kul, and Godalands J\u00f6kul, Myrdals\nJ\u00f6kul, and K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1. These form part of the most southern range of\nsnow-mountains in the island, and rise distinctly over a dark greenish\nand purple range of hills, away to the east on our port bow. Eyafialla\nis the second highest mountain in Iceland, being next in height to Or\u00e6fa\nJ\u00f6kul. It has a distinct crater. Only one violent eruption, that of A.D.\n1612, is recorded previous to A.D. 1821. \u201cBut on the night between the\n20th and 21st December, of that year, the lofty Eyafialla J\u00f6kul, of\nwhich the movement of A.D. 1612, was the only one formerly known, burst\nits icy covering, and began to cast out ashes, stones, and dust,\naccompanied with a strong flame. It continued till January throwing out\ngreat quantities of pumice ashes, which covered all the surrounding\nfields; and in February 1822, a lofty pillar of smoke still rose from\nthe crater. In June of the following year it again began to burn, and on\nthe 26th of the same month, destroyed a part of the adjacent land; but\nafter pouring out some streams of water, in the beginning of July, it\nwas once more quiet. In this month also the K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1, after sixty-eight\nyears repose, threw out sand and ashes, covering nearly one hundred\nsquare miles of ground.\u201d[18]\n\nK\u00f6tlugj\u00e1\u2014the gj\u00e1, fissure, or chasm of K\u00f6tlu\u2014is not a separate mountain\nwith a crater, but simply a yawning rent, so large as to resemble an\nextensive valley, situated on the north-west shoulder of Myrdals-J\u00f6kul,\nwhich is a lofty ice-mountain. From its inaccessibility it has never\nbeen explored, having been only examined from a distance. The rent is\nvisible from the sea.\n\nRecords of volcanic eruptions occurring throughout the island have, in\ngeneral, been carefully kept by the Icelanders from the earliest times;\nbut in this case, from the proximity of numerous other volcanic vents,\nand the distance of the spectators, along with the long continued and\nintermittent nature of single eruptions\u2014sometimes lasting for\nyears\u2014there appears to be some confusion in the various accounts, which\nrenders it difficult to reckon the number of\n\n\n K\u00d6TLUGJ\u00c1\u2019S ERUPTIONS.\n\nThe first outbreak, which, by the way, is the earliest recorded date of\nan eruption in the island\u2014being before Eldborg to which that honour is\nusually assigned\u2014occurred in the year A.D. 894, and the last in A.D.\n1823.[19] The number of them during that period is reckoned by the best\nauthorities at fourteen, the longest interval between two eruptions\nbeing 311 years, and the shortest 6. As its devastations have only been\nless terrible than those of Skapt\u00e1r, we shall now, after presenting a\nconcise table of dates, glance at the various eruptions of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1,\nextracting or briefly condensing from reliable sources, dwelling more\nparticularly on those of A.D. 1625, and 1755, two of the most fearful\nand destructive.\n\nFor the table, and the collecting of many of the facts and paragraphs\nwhich follow relating to K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1, I am indebted to my friend Dr. Lauder\nLindsay.\n\n 1st eruption A.D. 894. Interval since previous eruption.\n 2d \u201d 934. \u201d \u201d 40 years.\n 3d \u201d 1245. \u201d \u201d [20]311 \u201d\n 4th \u201d 1262. \u201d \u201d 17 \u201d\n 5th \u201d 1311. \u201d \u201d 49 \u201d\n 6th \u201d 1416. \u201d \u201d 105 \u201d\n 7th \u201d 1580. \u201d \u201d 164 \u201d\n 8th \u201d 1612. \u201d \u201d 32 \u201d\n 9th \u201d 1625. \u201d \u201d 13 \u201d\n 10th \u201d 1660. \u201d \u201d 35 \u201d\n 11th \u201d 1721. \u201d \u201d 61 \u201d\n 12th \u201d 1727. \u201d \u201d [21]6 \u201d\n 13th \u201d [22]1755. \u201d \u201d 28 \u201d\n 14th \u201d 1823. \u201d \u201d 68 \u201d\n\nThe first eruption, in A.D. 894, destroyed the pasture lands between the\nhill called Hafrsey, and the Holms\u00e1 river. Eight farms were abandoned,\nand the district of country in question is still almost entirely a sandy\ndesert.\n\nThe second, A.D. 934, was also a formidable one, and formed the\nextensive sandy desert now known as the Solheima-sand, a tract about\ntwenty miles long; and formed altogether of volcanic sand, ashes, or\nlapilli, and pumice.\n\nThe third, in A.D. 1245, covered a tract of country, though of what\nextent we are not informed, with sand and ashes to the depth of six or\neight inches.\n\nThe fourth, A.D. 1262, or, according to some writers, 1263, was attended\nby such an ejection of dust and ashes, that the sun could not be seen at\nmid-day in serene weather. During this eruption, the large river called\nFulil\u00e6kr, the J\u00f6kuls\u00e1\u2014or J\u00f6kul river\u2014which divides the Skoga-sand from\nthe Solheima-sand, suddenly made its appearance.\n\nThe fifth, in A.D. 1311 (some say 1332), appears to have been more\ndestructive to life than any of the previous ones. Many farms were\ndestroyed in the district called Myrdals-sand; several sand-hills and\nother hills were formed, and several marshes sprang into existence. It\nvomited ashes and sand during the greater part of the winter, and,\nmelting the ice about the crater, the inhabited tract in the vicinity\nwas inundated, and all the inhabitants except two perished in the flood.\nAnother account states that this eruption was known as \u201c_Sturluhlaup_,\u201d\nfrom only _one man_ of the name of Sturla having been saved, of those\noverwhelmed by the volcanic ejections.\n\nThe sixth, A.D. 1416. The lava or water-floods took the direction of\nHj\u00f6rleifsh\u00f6fdi, an isolated hill and promontory on the coast of the\nMyrdals-sand, considerably to the south-east of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1.\n\nThe seventh, A.D. 1580. During this eruption it is stated that Myrdals\nJ\u00f6kul was rent asunder, and as the name K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 is now first given to\nthe crater or fissure of eruption, it is probable that at this date the\nchasm was first recognised or discovered, if not formed. This eruption\nwas characterized by fire, darkness, and a rain of ashes, as well as by\nwater-floods; one of which latter went eastward toward the monastery of\nThyckvaboe, and another southward to Myrdal. Many farms were destroyed,\nbut there appears to have been no loss of human life.\n\nThe eighth, in 1612, was attended, it is conjectured, by a subsidence to\nsome extent of the Fall-J\u00f6kul, which is situated between Eyafialla and\nMyrdals J\u00f6kul, as well as of the lower lands between Langanes and\nThorsmerkr. The accompanying fire was such, that the eruption was\nvisible extensively in the north of Iceland.\n\nThe ninth, in A.D. 1625, was \u201cone of the grandest and most devastating\neruptions of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 that has ever occurred.\u201d Its historian is\nThorsteinn Magn\u00fasson, at the time sysselman or sheriff of\nSkaptafells-syssel (or district), who lived in the monastery of\nThyckvaboe. His account was published in Copenhagen in A.D. 1627.\nAccording to him, \u2018at daybreak on the second of September it began to\nthunder in the J\u00f6kul; and about 8 o\u2019clock A.M. floods of water and ice\nwere poured down upon the low country, and carried away upwards of 200\nloads of hay[23] which lay in the fields about Thyckvaboe. These floods\ncontinued to be poured forth like a raging sea till past one o\u2019clock in\nthe afternoon, when they gradually diminished, but were succeeded by\nterrible darkness, earthquakes, thunder, flames, and showers of sand.\nNor was it in the immediate vicinity of the crater alone that the fire\nappeared, but down in the inhabited tract, at the distance of nearly\ntwenty miles from the mountain, igneous vapours were seen attaching\nthemselves to the clothes of the inhabitants. (?) This dreadful scene\ncontinued, with little variation, till the 13th of the month. It was\nfrequently so clear at night that the mountains, with all their clefts\nand divisions, were seen as distinctly at the distance of twenty miles\nas they were in the clearest day. Sometimes the flames were pure as the\nsun, sometimes they were red, and at others they discovered all the\ncolours of the rainbow. The lightenings were visible now in the air, and\nnow running over the surface of the ground; and _such as witnessed them\nwere more or less affected in such parts of their bodies as were\nuncovered_. [!] These flashes were accompanied by the loudest claps of\nthunder, and darted backwards and forwards; now to the ground, and now\ninto the air, dividing sometimes into separate bolts, each of which\nappeared to be followed by a separate report; and after shooting in\ndifferent directions, they instantly collected again, when a dreadful\nreport was heard, and the igneous appearance fell like a waterspout to\nthe ground, and became invisible. While the showers of sand lasted, it\nwas frequently so dark in the day time that two individuals holding each\nother by the hand could not discover each other\u2019s face.\u2019 Dr. Hjaltalin\nstates that the water-floods, bearing large masses of ice, \u2018surrounded\nthe monastery of Thyckvaboe, with its adjacent farms, one of which was\noverflowed by the stream; but the people saved themselves on a high\nhill, where the flood could not reach them. The flood was followed by\nsuch heavy shots and continual thunder, that the people thought the\nheavens would burst to pieces, and they were surrounded with continual\nflashes of lightning. The pasturages were so covered with ashes and\npumice, that cattle, horses, and sheep could not get any food, and were\nseen running about in wild confusion. During the eruption such a\ndarkness prevailed sometimes that days were darker than nights; and it\nis related that showers of ashes from this eruption reached the town of\nBergen in Norway, which is the greatest distance to which volcanic ashes\nwere ever thrown from Iceland.\u2019 The account in the \u2018Islendingur\u2019 of June\n16, p. 45, mentions further, that the mixed water and ice flood flowed\nin cascades and waves over Myrdals-sand; that the inhabitants fled to\nthe heights for safety; that the depth of the water-flood, which\nsurrounded the monastery of Thyckvaboe, was such that a large\nocean-vessel might have sailed between the byres and the principal\nbuilding, and that there was an excessive falling of sand in the\ndistrict to the north-east of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1, called the Skapt\u00e1rtunga. This\neruption thus lasted for about twelve days, wholly destroying many\nfarms, and partially destroying or rendering temporarily useless others.\nThe damage done was greatest in the low lands to east, north-east, and\nsouth-east of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1.\n\nThe tenth, A.D. 1660\u2014commencing on 3d November\u2014\u201cappears scarcely to have\nbeen less formidable than the preceding eruption. Water-floods\noverwhelmed and destroyed the farm and church of H\u00f6fdabrekka, which\nlatter was cast into the sea immediately adjoining, apparently by an\nearthquake-shock. Only such articles were saved from the building as\ncould, at the moment, be snatched away by the clergyman J\u00f3n Salamonsson.\nThe quantity of sand, ashes, and sulphur, thrown out and deposited on\nthe coast about H\u00f6fdabrekka was such, that what formerly was a depth of\ntwenty fathoms of sea water, became at once dry land. Such is the\naccount in the \u2018Islendingur.\u2019 Dr. Hjaltalin says the clouds of pumice,\nashes, and sand, rendered the atmosphere, in the vicinity of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1,\nvery dark during nine days. Many farms were destroyed. Flames and ashes\nwere ejected during the greater part of winter. Henderson asserts, that\n\u2018the quantity of ice, &c., carried down by the inundation, was so great,\nthat where it was deposited, it rose to the height of forty-nine fathoms\nabove the surface of the former depositions. The church of H\u00f6fdabrekka\u2019\nconstructed wholly of wood, and of limited dimensions, \u2018was observed to\nswim among the masses of ice, to a considerable distance in the sea, ere\nit fell to pieces.\u2019 The volcano appears, with some intermission, to have\nerupted sand the two following years.\u201d\n\nThe eleventh, A.D. 1721, began at nine A.M. on the 11th May. Dr.\nHjaltalin says \u201cthe narrative of this eruption proceeds from certain of\nthe inhabitants of the _north of Iceland_, who observed the phenomena\nfrom the distance of about 100 English miles! These distant witnesses,\nstate that the eruption was preceded by heavy shots, like shots of\nartillery, lasting less or more for several days, and distinctly heard\nby them in the north of the island. These sounds were followed by a\nheavy fire\u2014which expression seems translateable as _vivid flames_\u2014also\nvisible at the great distance above named. The flames or fire were\nfollowed by clouds of ashes, so dense and so extensive, as to have\nproduced complete darkness for some hours, at the remoteness of 80 or\n100 miles.\u201d \u201cThe \u2018Islendingur\u2019 refers to an earthquake chiefly felt in\nMyrdal, but extending eastward to Lidu, and westward to Flj\u00f3tshl\u00edd.\nAbout noon of the same day\u201411th May\u2014the earth became fissured at various\npoints; loud sounds were heard, and lastly, flames, with steam or smoke,\nwere seen to issue from K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1. A water-flood now descended from the\nvolcano, bearing huge pieces of ice, resembling in bulk small islands;\nwhich icebergs sailed along as rapidly as a ship in a good breeze. These\nicebergs were borne by the flood from H\u00f6fdabrekka eastward to\nHj\u00f6rleifsh\u00f6fdi and Hafrsey. One village was destroyed in the east of the\nMyrdals-sand district.\u201d Again, Henderson states, p. 213,[24] the\n\u201cinundations lasted nearly three days, and carried along with them such\namazing quantities of ice, stones, earth, and sand, that the sea was\nfilled with them to the distance of three miles from the shore. The sun\nwas darkened by the smoke and ashes which were thrown into the air; sand\nand pumice were blown over almost the whole island; and the ice and\nwater desolated a considerable tract of grass land, over which they\nflowed.\u201d\n\nThe twelfth, A.D. 1727, is believed to have been of little intensity or\nimportance.\n\nThe eruption which follows\u2014the thirteenth, that of 1755\u2014is the \u201cmost\ncelebrated of all the outbreaks of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1, on account alike of its\ngrandeur, its duration, and its frightful results\u2014an eruption which has\nsince caused K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 to be dreaded by the Icelanders as one of their\nmost dangerous volcanoes, if not their most dangerous one.\u201d It began\nabout noon on the 17th of October, and \u201ccontinued, with intermissions,\ntill 25th August 1756\u2014its duration, therefore, being nearly a year. The\n\u2018Islendingur\u2019 gives a very short reference merely; but the accounts of\nDr. Hjaltalin and of Henderson are comparatively full. According to Dr.\nHjaltalin, the eruption was preceded by a series of earthquakes,\nbeginning in September; they were especially severe in the north-east of\nIceland, near Cape Langanes, about 150 or 180 miles distant from\nK\u00f6tlugj\u00e1. In this district they overthrew several farms; and in a milder\ndegree they were felt over a considerable extent of country. The\neruption itself began at ten A.M. of 17th October, about a fortnight\nprior to the earthquake which destroyed Lisbon. Vivid flames shot\ntowards the sky, accompanied by severe earthquakes, sounds like thunder,\nand lightnings. The volcano was enveloped in smoke or steam; showers of\nashes and pumice fell constantly, while volcanic bombs were hurled high\ninto the air. The latter must have been of great size, for they were\nseen bursting, and the accompanying detonating reports were heard at a\ndistance of upwards of a hundred miles. The days, it is said, were\ndarker than the nights; and the flames and bombs gave so unearthly a\ncharacter to the scene, that the poor inhabitants fancied that the day\nof judgment had arrived, and that our globe was bursting into atoms.\nOver large tracts of country, the soil was covered with sand and ashes\nto a depth of two or three feet; cattle, horses, and sheep, consequently\ndied in great numbers. This devastation caused a famine and pestilence\namong the inhabitants, who perished by the hundred. The eruption was\nviolent for fourteen days. The water-floods overflowed the district of\nMyrdals-sand, which is about twenty miles long and sixteen broad. Five\nparishes were more or less devastated, and fifty farms were destroyed.\nThese were the more local disasters; but, in addition to this, the sand\nand ashes were spread over a great portion of the island, producing\nfatal epidemics and epiz\u00f6otics,[25] and it is said even the wild-fowl\nfled from many parts of the island. The earthquakes were characterized\nby distinct wave-like motions of the land, which fluctuated like an\nagitated ocean, and the same earthquake-waves were propagated from the\ncoasts outward to sea, to the serious damage of the shipping.\u201d Henderson\nsays\u2014vol. 1. p. 314\u2014\u201cThe inhabitants of the track about K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 were\nfirst apprised of the impending catastrophe on the forenoon of the 17th\nOctober, by a number of quick and irregular tremifactions, which were\nfollowed by three immense floods, from the J\u00f6kul, that completely\noverflowed Myrdals-sand, and carried before them almost incredible\nquantities of ice and gravel. Masses of ice, resembling small mountains\nin size, pushed one another forward, and bore vast pieces of solid rock\non their surface. After the rocking had continued some time, an\nexceedingly loud report was heard, when fire and water were observed to\nbe emitted alternately by the volcano, which appeared to vent its rage\nthrough three apertures situated close to each other. At times the\ncolumn of fire was carried to such a height that it illuminated the\nwhole of the surrounding atmosphere, and was seen at the distance of one\nhundred and eighty miles; at other times the air was so filled with\nsmoke and ashes that the adjacent parishes were enveloped in total\ndarkness. Between these alternations of light and obscurity, vast\nred-hot globes were thrown to a great height, and broken into a thousand\npieces. The following night presented one of the most awful and sublime\nspectacles imaginable. An unremitting noise, like that produced by the\ndischarge of heavy artillery, was heard from the volcano. A fiery column\nof variegated hues rose into the atmosphere; flames and sparks were\nscattered in every direction, and blazed in the most vivid manner.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe eruption continued with more or less violence till the 7th of\nNovember, during which period dreadful _exundations of hot-water_ were\npoured forth on the low country; and the masses of ice, clay, and solid\nrock, that they hurled into the sea, were so great that it was _filled\nto the distance of more than fifteen miles_; and, in some places, where\nit was formerly forty fathoms deep, the tops of the newly deposited\nrocks were now seen towering above the water. A violent eruption\nhappened again, on the 17th of November, when the volcano remained\ninactive till the following year, during which it emitted fire and water\nfive times\u2014viz., on January 15, June 28 and 29, and August 12 and 25.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe principal damage occasioned by these eruptions, consisted in the\ndestruction of the pasture-grounds throughout the most part of the\nsyssel\u2014or district. Numbers of the cattle were carried away by the\ndeluge; and the mephitic substances, with which everything was\nimpregnated, brought on a raging mortality in different parts of the\ncountry. On the breaking forth of the water, a number of people fled for\nrefuge to an insulated mountain called Hafrsey, where they were obliged\nto stay seven days without either meat or drink; and were exposed to the\nshowers of stones, fire, and water which fell around them. The\nlightning, which was very violent during the eruption, penetrated\nthrough solid rocks, and killed two people and eleven horses, three of\nwhich were in a stable. One of the persons killed was a farmer, whom it\nstruck dead as he left the door of his house. What is remarkable, his\nupper clothes, which were of wool, bore no marks of fire, but the linen\nhe had under them was burned; and when he was undressed, it was found\nthat the skin and flesh of his right side were consumed to the very\nbone. [!] His maid-servant was struck with the lightning at the same\ntime; and though her clothes were instantly changed, it continued to\nburn in the pores of her body, and singed the clothes she put on. [!]\nShe died a few days afterwards, having in the meantime suffered\ninexpressible pain.\u201d\n\nThis eruption, Henderson very truly remarks, becomes the more noteworthy\nfrom \u201cthe terrible convulsions to which at the same time a great part of\nthe terrestrial globe was subjected. Not only were the British isles\nrocked by repeated and violent shocks of an earthquake, houses thrown\ndown, rocks split, and the waters of the sea and lakes[26] heaved up;\nbut in Norway, Sweden, Germany, Holland, France, and Italy, the same\nphenomena were experienced. Spain and Portugal, however, suffered most\nfrom the shocks. Numerous villages, convents, and churches were\ndemolished; the largest mountains shaken from the foundations, and the\nlow grounds inundated by the swelling and overflowing of the rivers.\nLisbon, in particular, exhibited a scene the most tragical and\nmelancholy. The most ponderous edifices were heaved up and shaken;\nsteeples, towers, and houses thrown down; the ground and streets danced\nunder the feet of the inhabitants; and many thousands of them were\nburied in the ruins. Nor was the earthquake confined to Europe. It\nstretched over into Barbary, and destroyed upwards of a dozen of cities\non the coasts of Africa. Its concussions were also felt in Persia, in\nthe West Indies, and in America.\u201d[27] Sir George S. Mackenzie and Sir\nWilliam Hooker[28] both also describe this eruption in their respective\nworks of travel, but the incidents do not differ from those given above.\nThe latter writer characterizes the sounds accompanying the eruption as\n\u201cmost frightful and horrible roarings.\u201d The illuminations at night were\nso vivid, \u201cthat heaven and earth seemed to be equally in a state of\nconflagration.\u201d On the 19th of October a column of smoke issued from the\nvolcano, which column was black by day; but the smoke was intermixed\nwith balls and sparks of fire, which by night lighted up the whole of\nthe Myrdal district, while the country to the east thereof was in\ndarkness both day and night. \u201cAshes fell like rain\u201d in Far\u00f6e, 300 miles\ndistant, and subterranean noises were heard as far as the Guldbringu and\nKiosar syssels\u201480 to 90 miles distant.\n\nThe fourteenth, A.D. 1823, began on the 1st and ended on the 26th July.\nThe phenomena were, as usual, chiefly water-floods, showers of ashes,\nslight earthquakes, and vivid lightnings, which latter struck several\npersons. Only one farm, Solheimar, was destroyed, and comparatively\nlittle damage was done elsewhere; altogether the eruption was one of the\nmildest and most innocuous hitherto recorded of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1.\n\nThese glimpses of the recorded volcanic history of that one spot on\nwhich we now gaze, will convey to the reader some idea of the terrific\nvisitations to which the islanders are exposed; even when there are not\nlava streams licking up rivers, pastures, farms, and people in their\nfiery floods, filling up whole valleys or rushing out into the sea and\nforming capes, hissing, the while, louder than the Midgard Serpent,\nwhich encompasses the whole earth.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhite fleecy clouds come and go, at times muffling the summit of these\nj\u00f6kuls, which are deemed the most picturesque in Iceland, if we except\nSn\u00e6fell on the west coast, and Or\u00e6fa on the south-east.\n\nAfter passing the Westmanna islands and the east-most mouth of the\nMarkarfli\u00f3t river, which sweeps round the north and west sides of\nEyafialla J\u00f6kul, the south-east mountain ranges, on which we have long\nbeen gazing, begin; the general character of the coast, north of this\npoint, having been low like the Guldbringu syssel. This district has\nbeen rendered classic ground, as the scene of Njal\u2019s Saga,[29] and we\nonly wish it were permitted us to land and visit Bergthorsknoll and\nLithend, to cross the rivers, scamper over the plains, or scale the\nThree-corner mountain. It is now clear, and one can take in the general\ncharacter of the whole district at a glance.\n\nThe colour of the sea now assumed a light green aspect, broken here and\nthere by white crested waves. Snow patches lay on the rugged purple\nhills; these, again, were touched with lines of intense fiery gold,\nactually excandescent. Sea-birds flitted past like white gleams; and,\naltogether, the scene, flooded with golden light, presented a\nmagnificent study of colour. I made jottings of the outlines, tints, and\natmospheric effects, for a water colour drawing; to be painted \u201csome\nday\u201d\u2014that unattainable period when so many things are to be done, but\nwhich ever recedes from us like the horizon line; luring us on and on,\nand cheating us from day to day with a vague phantom shadow of\n\n \u201cSomething evermore about to be.\u201d\n\nThe Skogar-foss\u2014force or waterfall\u2014yonder, falling sheer over the rock\ncliffs into the sea, gently sways to and fro in the wind. It falls\nfrom so great a height that it appears to lose itself in vapour or\ndust, like the Staubach. There is an old tradition that an early\ncolonist\u2014Thrasi\u2014before dying, buried a chest of gold and jewels in the\ndeep rock-basin into which this magnificent sheet of water\ntumbles.[30]\n\nSun-gleams rest on the snow-mountains and play on the ice of the\nglaciers. These are very numerous near the coast, the ice being\ngenerally of a light whity-green colour and corrugated in wavy lines.\n\nAs the weather is clear and bright, we see the coast near Portland to\nmore advantage than on our first approach to the island. The wild\nfantastic promontories, rock-islets, and needle shaped drongs\u2014serrated,\npeaked and hummocky\u2014resemble the ruins of old castles and cathedrals.\nThe likeness of one of them to Iona, already remarked upon, is now even\nstill more apparent. Behind these rocks is a low range of hills, beyond\nwhich rise the j\u00f6kuls.\n\nThe summits of these mountains are white with perpetual snow. The\nshoulders shade downwards into pale green ice, which terminates abruptly\nat the edge of a dark rugged precipitous line of rock that descends\nsheer into the valley behind the low range of hills next the sea. The\nprecipice looked as if the sides of the mountains had, in some way, been\nsliced down, say from a third of their height, leaving the snowy summits\nand icy shoulders untouched.\n\nGlaciers were formed, wherever the nature of the slope would admit of\nthem. In some instances they seemed to approach the brink of the\nprecipice and overhang it; but more frequently they chose places where\nrents, chasms, irregularities, or depressed spaces, occurring between\nany two mountains in the range, broke the wall, and thus afforded an\nincline plane all the way down to the valley.\n\nMany whales continue to sport round the vessel, spouting up jets of\nwater, tumbling about and showing the whole of their large tails. At\ntimes they leap nearly altogether out of the sea, and fall with a great\nsplash. They often remain perfectly motionless for a considerable time.\nWhen diving down, both the rounded shape of the fish, and the peculiar\nparabolic motion with which it rises and falls, make the ridge of the\nback with its dorsal fins resemble the segment of a great black\nrevolving disk, like a monster saw-wheel. Gulls, skuas, and\npheasant-tailed ducks are flying about.\n\nA lot of beer-drinking and meerschaum-smoking Danes are on board, going\nto Copenhagen. The smell of tobacco is felt everywhere, above, below,\nand at all hours. Their voices are frequently heard during the day\ncalling for \u201csnaps.\u201d They consider a glass of this spirit indispensible\nfor breakfast, and take it every morning to begin with. However, the\nhours passed very pleasantly on shipboard. The following\n\n\n ICELANDIC STATISTICS\n\nwill interest the reader. From the last census\u20141855\u2014we learn that the\npopulation of the island is 64,603; of that number 52,475 live by\nfarming, and 5,055 by fishing, thus accounting for nearly three-fourths\nof the whole population. In exact figures the number is only 923 short\nof that proportion.\n\nThere were then in the island 65 persons deaf and dumb, and 202 blind.\nCurious to observe that, although there previously had been and again\nmay be, there was not then a single watchmaker on the island. The\nextreme paucity of common tradesmen\u2014less than 11 to the 1000\u2014indicates a\nvery primitive pastoral state of society amongst the islanders; home\nwants being generally supplied by home skill. The following table is\nconstructed, from data contained in the census, to show at a glance the\nvarious occupations of the Icelanders, and also what relative proportion\nthese bear to each thousand of the population.\n\n Total numbers in Proportion to each\n the island at 1000 of the whole\n census in 1855. population.\n\n Clergymen, professors and\n teachers at the college, and\n employ\u00e9s at churches 2,365 36.61\n\n Civil officers 454 7.03\n\n Do. out of office 140 2.17\n\n Farmers who live by agriculture 52,475 812.27\n\n Farmers who depend chiefly on\n the fisheries 5,055 78.25\n\n Tradesmen as follows:\n\n Bakers 10 0.16\n\n Coopers 35 0.55\n\n Gold and silversmiths 80 1.24\n\n Carpenters 61 0.94\n\n Blacksmiths 80 1.24\n\n Masons 6 0.09\n\n Millers 4 0.07\n\n Turners 8 0.13\n\n Boat builders 38 0.59\n\n Shoemakers 18 0.28\n\n Tailors 27 0.41\n\n Joiners 174 2.69\n\n Saddlers 46 0.71\n\n Weavers 20 0.30\n\n Men who live by other\n industrial occupations 103 1.59\n\n Merchants and innkeepers 730 11.30\n\n Pensioners, and people\n living on their own means 356 5.51\n\n Day labourers 523 8.09\n\n Miscellaneous occupations\n not classed 586 9.07\n\n Paupers 1,207 18.68\n\n Prisoners 2 0.3\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2014 \u2014\u2014\u2014\n\n 64,603 1000\n\nThere are only sixty-three native Icelandic surnames. Few people have\ngot any; the custom is, after telling one\u2019s own christian name, when\nasked whose son are you? to answer in old Hebrew fashion, son of, or\ndaughter of so and so. There are 530 men\u2019s christian names, and 529\nwomen\u2019s names in use; so that there need be no lack for choice of names\nin a large family. Many of them, slightly modified in spelling, are\nfamiliar to us, but chiefly as surnames, _e.g._ Kettle, Halle, Ormur,\nGils, Olafur, &c.\n\nThe number of individuals bearing certain names, is all duly recorded in\nthe last census. I note a few of them, from which the reader may infer\nthat Casa\u2019s droll extravaganza, depreciating the name John under its\nvarious forms, is as applicable to Iceland as to Italy; and that\nSigridur, Kristin, and Helga, are favourite names among the ladies.\n\nThe figures in the following list indicate the total number of persons,\nin the whole island, who bear these respective names.\n\nAndros, 136; Ausumunder, 125; Bjarni, 869; Einer, 878; Eiriken, 351;\nG\u00edsli, 681; Gunnar, 150; Halldor, 428; Johann, 494; Johannus, 498; J\u00f3n,\n4827; Magnus, 1007; Odin, 169; Olafur, 992; Thordur, 445; Thorwaldsen,\n106 &c.\n\nFemale names:\u2014Anna, 869; Elin, 438; Elizabeth, 194; Gr\u00f3a, 269; Halld\u00f3ra,\n515; Helga, 1135; Johanna, 630; Kristin, 1615; Rosa, 269; Sigridur,\n2641; Lilja, 120; Soffia, 182; Thorbj\u00f6rg, 436; Sessilja, 326 &c.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHalf-past 6 P.M. Looking back to Portland Huk, over the light-green sea\nwith its white crested waves, the reddish brown fantastic islets, and\nthe singular arched opening in the rock\u2014Dyrh\u00f3laey\u2014show distinctly and\nbeautifully against the amber light of the horizon.\n\nAs we paced the deck, talking about the old Norse language\u2014which is\nstill spoken in Iceland as it used to be in the eighth and ninth\ncenturies in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, in the Orkney, Shetland, and\nFar\u00f6e islands, in the two northern counties of Scotland, and in other\nScandinavian settlements along the British coast\u2014Dr. Mackinlay remarked,\nthat \u201cso well had the language been preserved, an Icelander of the\npresent day had no difficulty in understanding the most ancient writings\nof his country.\u201d This can be said of no other tongue in western Europe.\n\nTo this\u2014the very language of the Vikings\u2014both the old lowland Scotch,\nand, at a further remove, our modern English, chiefly owe their\ndirectness, expressiveness, and strength.\n\nMany words, which we now use with a secondary or restricted meaning,\nstill retain their primitive signification in Icelandic. Thus the word\n\u201csmith\u201d\u2014a contraction for smiteth\u2014which with us is restricted to a\nworker in metals, in Icelandic still retains its old sense of\nhandcraftsman. Hence the Icelander not only talks of a goldsmith as a\nguldsmidr, a silversmith as silfursmidr, but of a saddler as s\u00f6dlasmidr,\na cooper as a koparsmidr, a shoemaker as a sk\u00f3rsmidr, a joiner as a\ntr\u00e9smidr, a builder as a husasmidr, a printer as a prentsmidr, a\nblacksmith as a jarnsmidr, a cabinet-maker as a skrinsmidr, a watchmaker\nas an ursmidr, and, in a metaphorical sense, of a poet or ode-writer as\nan odarsmidr; just as the Anglo-Saxons talked of a warrior as a\nwar-smidr.\n\nOver a narrow strip of low sand-beach, the near snow-mountains and\nicefields, like frosted silver burnished in parts, now lie gleaming with\ndazzling brightness in the sun; coloured here and there with living\ngem-like streaks of opal, amber, crimson, and orange which glow yet more\nintensely, as if the snow and ice had been magically touched with an\nunextinguishable pencil of fire.\n\n[Illustration: PART OF MYRDALS J\u00d6KUL AND K\u00d6TLUGJ\u00c1 RANGE.]\n\nPortland point is left astern, and over it, dark clouds, of a leaden hue\nand ruddy edges, came down to within a short distance of the transparent\nglowing horizon. The coast-range and islets, off the point, are deep\npurple, relieved against a narrow golden belt of light below the leaden\ncloud. In it, hang motionless a few cloud streaks\u2014light, fleecy,\npurplish gray\u2014and, lower down, others of only a lighter amber than the\npure ether in which they float.\n\nThe sea is of a light sap green; the level sun-glare slants across the\nwake of the steamer, and touches the crested waves; while a line of\nlight, like a silvery mist, marks the edge of the sea, by running along\nthe coast at the foot of the snow-capped hills. Sea-gulls flying about\nare following the vessel, and screaming with delight or expectation. All\nis a perfect study of colour\u2014warm purples, glowing ambers, fiery\ncrimsons, and cool greens\u2014each heightened by neutral tints in the\nclouds, and crests of white foam, little more than a ripple, on the\ngreen sea. I walked the deck for two hours with the captain, and turned\nin at eleven o\u2019clock.\n\n[Illustration: OR\u00c6FA J\u00d6KUL.]\n\n_Friday morning._ We are passing Or\u00e6fa J\u00f6kul, which, by the latest\nmeasurement, rises 6,405 English feet above the sea level, and is the\nhighest mountain in the island. It is an immense mass, covered with snow\nand ice, and exhibiting glaciers creeping down to the sea. Sometimes the\ninternal heat of this volcano melts and cracks the surface ice-mail, so\nthat it splinters and rushes down the sides as an avalanche of ice and\nwater, filling up hollows and valleys. When in action it only ejects\nashes and pumice; never lava.[31] By the side of the mountain is a\ngently sloping snow-field, with several pointed black peaks rising\nabruptly out of it. This field stretches away far inland. Dr. Mackinlay\ntells me that, from the land-side, Or\u00e6fa appears a double-peaked broad\nshouldered mountain; one of the peaks or ridges presenting a deep\nscarped side like that of Salisbury Crags.[32]\n\nWith but few interruptions, a chain of snow-mountains stretches across\nthe island, from Sn\u00e6fells J\u00f6kul in the west, to Thrandar J\u00f6kul in the\neast; while the central desert or plain, running across from sea to sea\nbetween this range and that on the south-east, is nearly 100 miles\nbroad, from 2000 to 2200 feet above the sea level, and only 400 or 500\nfeet from the snow-line. The south-east corner of the island is an\nenormous unexplored snow or ice plateau, called Klofa or Vatna J\u00f6kul, of\nabout 2400 square miles, chiefly covered with, or at all events\nsurrounded by ranges of j\u00f6kuls, over which Or\u00e6fa, the most southern\nj\u00f6kul of this unexplored region and the king of Iceland mountains, keeps\nwatch and ward.\n\nAway to the north-west, bounding this icy region on the west, rises\nSkapt\u00e1r J\u00f6kul, by far the most destructive volcano in the island.[33]\nAnd \u201cin no part of the world,\u201d remarks Dr. Lindsay, \u201care volcano\nphenomena on so gigantic a scale as in Iceland. In it there are lava\nstreams fifty miles long, twelve to fifteen miles broad and six hundred\nfeet deep. Portions of these streams sometimes form hills as high as\nArthur\u2019s Seat or Salisbury Crags; and such is the persistence of the\nheat, that rents in the lava have been found still smoking, or filled\nwith hot water, so long as eleven years after an eruption. In no part of\nthe world of the same extent, are there so many widely separate vents or\nfoci\u2014about twenty\u2014of subterranean igneous action. The boiling springs\nwhich are most numerous, show of themselves that such action is going on\nunder the whole island. The calculations of Professor Bischoff show,\nthat the mass of lava thrown up by the eruption of Skapt\u00e1r J\u00f6kul, A.D.\n1783, was greater in bulk than Mont Blanc. A larger mass of lava by far,\nthan was ever thrown out from a single volcano, at any time, in any part\nof the world.\u201d\n\nAs a particular example of the ravages produced by these terrible\nconvulsions of nature may give the reader a clearer and more vivid idea\nof their action, than any general description, we shall select the\n\n\n ERUPTION OF SKAPT\u00c1R J\u00d6KUL,\n\nin 1783; it having been not only very violent, but the one of which we\npossess the fullest and most authentic accounts.\n\n\u201cThe preceding winter and the spring of that year had been unusually\nmild, and nothing seemed to foretell the approaching danger, till\ntowards the end of May, when a light bluish fog was seen floating along\nthe ground, succeeded in the beginning of June by earthquakes, which\ndaily increased in violence till the 8th of that month. At nine in the\nmorning of that day numerous pillars of smoke were noticed rising in the\nhill country towards the north, which, gradually gathering into a dark\nbank, obscured the atmosphere, and proceeding in a southerly direction\nagainst the wind, involved the whole district of Sida in darkness,\nshowering down sand and ashes to the thickness of an inch. This cloud\ncontinued to increase till the 10th, when fire-spouts were observed in\nthe mountains, accompanied by earthquakes. Next day the large river\nSkapta\u00e1, which in the spring had discharged a vast quantity of fetid\nwater, mixed with gravel or dust, and had lately been much swollen,\ntotally disappeared. This incident was fully accounted for on the 12th,\nwhen a huge current of lava, burst from one side of the volcano, and\nrushed with a loud crashing noise down the channel of the river, which\nit not only filled, but even overflowed, though in many places from four\nto six hundred feet deep and two hundred broad. The fiery stream after\nleaving the hills, threatened to deluge the low country of Medalland,\nwhen a lake that lay in its way intercepted it during several days. But\nat length the incessant torrents filled the basin, and proceeded in two\nstreams, one to the east, where its progress was for a short time\ninterrupted by the Skalarfiall, up which, however, the accumulating\nflood soon forced its way, rolling the mossy covering over the mountain\nbefore it like a large piece of cloth. The other current directed its\nprogress towards the south, through the district of Medalland, passing\nover some old tracts of lava, which again began to burn, whilst the air\nin its cavities escaped with a strange whistling noise, or suddenly\nexpanding, threw up immense masses into the air to the height of more\nthan 120 feet. The waters of the rivers, swollen by the melting of the\nJ\u00f6kuls in the interior, and intercepted in their course by the glowing\nlava, were thrown into a state of violent ebullition, and destroyed many\nspots spared by the fire. In this district, the liquid matter continued\nto flow to the 20th of July, following principally the course of the\nSkapta\u00e1, where it poured over the lofty cataract of Stapafoss, filling\nup the enormous cavity the waters had been hollowing out for ages.\nDuring the whole of this eruption, the atmosphere was filled with\nmephitic vapours, or darkened with clouds of ashes, by which the sun was\neither concealed from the miserable inhabitants, or appeared like a\nblood-red globe, adding to their terror and consternation.\n\n\u201cThe molten elements had so long confined their fury to the Skapta\u00e1,\nthat the inhabitants of the eastern district on the Hverfisfliot, though\nmuch incommoded by the showers of ashes, hoped to escape its more\nimmediate visitations. But on the 28th of June, a cloud of sand and\nsmoke caused so thick a darkness, that in the houses at noon, a sheet of\nwhite paper, held opposite the window, could not be distinguished from\nthe black walls, whilst red-hot stones and dust burnt up the pastures,\npoisoned the waters, and threatened to set fire to the dwellings. On the\n3d of August a thick vapour rising from the Hverfisfliot, the entire\ndisappearance of its waters, and a foaming fire-stream, which on the 9th\nrushed with indescribable fury down its bed, overflowing the country in\none night to the extent of more than four miles, converted the fearful\nanticipations of the natives into dreadful realities. The eruptions of\nsand, ashes, pumice, and lava continued till the end of August, when the\nvolcano appeared completely exhausted; but flames were still seen in\nFebruary, 1784, and thick clouds of smoke, even in July of that year.\nThe whole catastrophe closed in August with an earthquake of such\nextreme violence that men were thrown to the ground.\n\n\u201cThe immediate source whence this enormous mass of matter issued is\nentirely unknown, being situated in that great central desert of sand\nand snow which none of the natives have ever penetrated; and no\ntraditions of any former occurrence of this kind have been preserved.\nSome persons who went up into the mountains during the continuance of\nthe eruption were, in consequence of the thick smoke, compelled to\nreturn, and some subsequent attempts met with no better success. It is\nnot even known whether the current that flowed from the Skapta\u00e1 and that\nin the Hverfisfliot proceeded from the same crater; it is, however,\nprobable their sources were different though closely connected.\n\n\u201cThe extent of the lava can only be accurately known in the inhabited\ndistricts. The stream that flowed down the Skapta\u00e1 is calculated at\nabout fifty miles in length, by twelve or fifteen at its greatest\nbreadth: that in the Hverfisfliot at forty miles in length by seven in\nbreadth. In the narrow channel of the Skapta\u00e1 it rose to 500 or 600\nfeet; but in the plains its extreme height does not exceed 100, and in\nmany places is only eight or ten feet. From its immense thickness, it\nwas a long time in cooling, being so hot in July 1784, twelve months\nafter the eruption, that Mr. Stephenson could not cross it, and even\nthen sending up a thick smoke or steam. In the year 1794 it still\nretained an elevated temperature, emitting vapours from various places,\nand many of its crevices being filled with warm water. This long\nretention of heat will appear more extraordinary, when we consider the\nnumerous globular cavities and fissures it contained, permitting a free\ncirculation of the water and atmosphere.\n\n\u201cThe destructive effects of this volcano were not confined to its\nimmediate vicinity, vast quantities of sand and ashes being scattered\nover the remoter parts of the country, and some were conveyed to the\nFar\u00f6e islands, a distance of nearly 300 miles.[34] The noxious vapours\nthat for many months infected the air were equally pernicious to man and\nbeast, and covered the whole island with a dense fog which obscured the\nsun, and was perceptible even in England and Holland. The steam rising\nfrom the crater, or exhaled from the boiling waters, was condensed in\nthe cooler regions of the atmosphere, and descended in floods that\ndeluged the fields and consolidated the ashes into a thick black crust.\nA fall of snow in the middle of June, and frequent showers of hailstones\nof unusual magnitude, accompanied with tremendous thunder-storms,\ntearing up huge fragments of rock, and rolling them down into the\nplains, completed the scene of desolation. The grass and other plants\nwithered, and became so brittle that the weight of a man\u2019s foot reduced\nthem to powder; and even where the pastures seemed to have recovered,\nthe cattle refused to touch them, dying of actual starvation in the\nmidst of the most luxuriant herbage. Small unknown insects covered many\nof the fields, while other portions of the soil, formerly the most\nfertile, were changed by the ashes into marshy wastes overgrown with\nmoss and equiseta. A disease resembling scurvy in its most malignant\ntype attacked both men and cattle, occasioned in the former no doubt by\nthe want of food, and the miserable, often disgusting, nature of that\nwhich alone they could obtain. Many lived on the bodies of those animals\nwhich had perished from hunger or disease, whilst others had recourse to\nboiled skins, or substances still more nauseous and unwholesome. The\nnumerous earthquakes, with the ashes and other matter thrown into the\nsea, caused the fish to desert many parts of the coast; whilst the\nfishermen, seldom daring to leave the land enveloped in thick clouds\nduring most of the summer, were thus deprived of their usual stock of\nwinter provisions. We cannot better conclude this frightful catalogue of\nevils, than by the following summary of the numbers of men and cattle\nmore or less immediately destroyed by it in two years. The most moderate\ncalculation makes these amount to 1300 human beings, 19,488 horses,\n6,801 horned cattle, and 129,937 sheep.\u201d Stephenson makes these numbers\nstill higher and says, \u201c9,336 men, 28,000 horses, 11,461 cattle, and\n190,488 sheep.\u201d[35]\n\nFine dust and vapour from this terrific eruption overspread Asia,\nEurope, and America during the whole summer. Franklin speculated on the\ncause of this haze, and Dr. Mackinlay reminded me that Cowper, who\nfrequently refers to it in his letters, has, in the second Book of the\n\u201cTask,\u201d a beautiful allusion to it, and also to the earthquake in\nCalabria which occurred nearly at the same time as the Skapt\u00e1r\neruptions:\n\n \u201cFires from beneath, and meteors from above,\n Portentous, unexampled, unexplained,\n Have kindled beacons in the skies; and th\u2019 old\n And crazy earth has had her shaking fits\n More frequent, and foregone her usual rest.\n Is it a time to wrangle, when the props\n And pillars of our planet seem to fail,\n And Nature, with a dim and sickly eye,\n To wait the close of all?\u201d\n\nA.D. 1784, the year after the outbreak of Skapt\u00e1r, which left the whole\nisland in mourning, was almost as memorable for earthquakes, not only in\nIceland, but in many parts of the world widely separated from each\nother, as 1755 had been in connection with the eruption of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1.\n\nMost of the Icelandic mountains are volcanic, and, from the native\nhistory, we learn the frequency with which they have manifested this\ncharacter. Let us glance at the following brief sketch of their\n\n\n VOLCANIC HISTORY,\n\nchiefly compiled by the author of \u201cIceland, Greenland, and the Far\u00f6e\nIslands.\u201d\n\nOf these mountains, this writer says, \u201cmost of them seem now to be in\nthe state of intermittent activity, in which more or less violent\nparoxysms occur at intervals of longer or shorter duration; and, but for\nthe uncertainty of these periods, we might consider some as in a state\nof complete repose. These alternations of movement and rest seem common\nto the separate members and to the whole system; there being many years\nin which the island remains undisturbed, whilst at other epochs it\nappears as if entirely devoted to the fury of contending elements. The\nmost terrible of the volcanoes known in ancient times were Hekla,\nOr\u00e6fa-J\u00f6kul, and the K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1; to which have recently[36] been added\nKrabla, Leirhnukr, and Skapt\u00e1fells, which commenced only in the 18th\ncentury. The earliest record of such an occurrence is that of\nEldborg,[37] in the western part of the island, said to have happened in\nthe 9th or 10th century. This was followed by the eruption from the\nmountains in Guldbringu syssel in the year 1000, at the time when the\nalthing was deliberating as to the reception of the Christian religion.\nIn the 11th century Hekla appeared in a state of violent commotion,\nwhich extending, in the middle of the 12th, to many others, devastated\nthe land from north to south, and was accompanied by destructive\nearthquakes. In the beginning and at a later period of the 13th century,\nthe south-western quarter was particularly excited; whilst in the middle\nof the succeeding one, the island was desolated by the most terrible\nconvulsions, concluding in 1391 with a violent earthquake, felt over the\nwhole country. From this date till the beginning of the 16th, the\nvolcanoes were comparatively quiet; but at that period, and in the end\nof the century, they raged both in the south and the north. The 17th was\nagain an interval of repose, in which only the southern ones were\nactive; but the eighteenth age proved that their energies had undergone\nno diminution, by eruptions even more violent than those of the\nfourteenth. Between 1720 and 1730 the same mountains were in incessant\naction, accompanied by earthquakes; whilst in the north, Krabla and\nLeirhnukr began their devastations. In the years 1753 and 1755 the\nSkeidar\u00e1 and K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 J\u00f6kuls poured out every variety of volcanic\nmatter. In 1766 Hekla again commenced, and the destructive outbreak of\nthe Skapt\u00e1r in 1783 closed these frightful scenes. From that time till\n1821, with the exception of some slight agitations, and probably a few\ninconsiderable eruptions in the desert part of the country, no displays\nof volcanic action occurred.\u201d\n\nEyafialla J\u00f6kul continued in eruption from A.D. 1821 till 1822. In July\n1823 it again began to burn. In the same month K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1, covered nearly\n100 miles of ground with sand and ashes. \u201cIn July 1825, both sides of\nthe island were visited by earthquakes, accompanied by destructive\nhurricanes and floods; whilst on the 13th of February 1827, there was an\neruption of the Skeidar\u00e1 J\u00f6kul.\u201d\n\nThe subjoined list of Icelandic volcanoes, with the dates of their\neruptions, is transcribed from the same source, and presented to the\nreader, not by any means as complete, but as the best to which I at\npresent have access. It will aid him in realizing the fearful results of\nthese terrific energies so frequently at work.\n\n \u201cHekla, 1004, 1029, 1105, 1113, 1157, 1206, 1222, 1294, 1300,\n 1340, 1374, 1390, 1436, 1510, 1554, 1583, 1619, 1625, 1636,\n 1693, 1728, 1754, 1766.\n\n Guldbringu Syssel, 1000.\n\n Eyafialla J\u00f6kul, 1821.\n\n Solheima J\u00f6kul, about 900, 1245, 1262, 1717.\n\n K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 or Myrdals-J\u00f6kul, 894, 1311, 1416, 1580, 1625, 1661,\n 1721, 1727, 1755, 1823.\n\n Skapt\u00e1r-J\u00f6kul, 1783.\n\n Sida-J\u00f6kul, in tenth century, and in 1753.\n\n Skeidar\u00e1r-J\u00f6kul, 1725, 1727, 1827.\n\n Or\u00e6fa-J\u00f6kul, 1362, 1720, 1727, 1755.\n\n Hnappafell\u2019s-J\u00f6kul, 1332, 1772.\n\n Heinaberg\u2019s-J\u00f6kul, 1362.\n\n Trolladynger, 1151, 1188, 1340, 1359, 1475, 1510.\n\n Herdubreid, 1340, 1510, 1717.\n\n Krabla, and Leirhnukr, 1725-1730.\n\n Grimsvatn, 1716.\n\n Eldborg, end of ninth or beginning of tenth century.\n\n Submarine eruption, Breida fiord, 1345.\n\n Submarine Reykjanes, 1211, 1226, 1238, 1240, 12\u2014, 1340, 1422,\n 1583, 1783, 1831.\u201d\n\n Here are records of nineteen vents and seventy-seven\n eruptions. \u201cThese have occurred in about ten centuries, or,\n on an average, one in thirteen years. The most violent\n paroxysms seem to have occurred in 1340, 1362, 1725-1730,\n and 1754-1755. To complete this view of internal activity,\n we may add, that the following years were distinguished by\n violent earthquakes; 1181, 1182, 1211, 1260, 1261, 1294,\n 1300, 1311, 1313, 1339, 1370, 1390, 1391, 1552, 1554, 1578,\n 1597, 1614, 1633, 1657, 1661, 1706, 1755, 1784, 1789, 1808,\n 1815, 1825.\u201d\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 18:\n\n \u201cIceland, Greenland, and the Far\u00f6e Islands,\u201d p. 37.\n\nFootnote 19:\n\n Since our visit, there has been another eruption of K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1 in 1860,\n the particulars of which have been collected by Lauder Lindsay, Esq.\n M.D., F.L.S. &c., and published in the Edinburgh \u201cPhilosophical\n Journal\u201d for January. From his interesting and admirable scientific\n paper, which treats the subject largely, we learn that this eruption,\n like that of 1823, was \u201cmild and innocuous.\u201d It began on the 8th, and\n continued to the 28th or 29th of May, and was preceded for several\n days by earthquakes. On the morning of the eighth a dark cloud was\n seen to rise from the mountain, which at the same moment sent forth an\n enormous flood of water, with very large pieces of ice, running with\n the water-stream into the sea. Some of the pieces of ice were so large\n that they were stranded at a twenty fathom depth in the sea. On the\n 12th of May the flames could be seen from Reykjavik, although this\n town is no less than about eighty English miles distant. During the\n evenings flashes of lightning were seen in the same direction. On the\n 16th May, the smoke was about twenty-four thousand (?) feet high; it\n was sometimes of a dark colour, but at other times it resembled steam.\n At this time the fire was seen from several places at a distance of\n about 80 English miles. The wind being northerly during the eruption,\n the sand and ashes fell chiefly in Myrdals-sand, which was the\n direction also taken by the water-floods. Sulphur was found floating\n in the sea, and the fish disappeared from certain parts of the\n neighbouring coasts. A large quantity of cinders was mixed with the\n water-floods. Cinders and balls of fire, as well as smoke, were thrown\n up; but the cinders and ashes, from being carried by the wind partly\n into the sea and partly to the neighbouring snow-fields, did\n comparatively little damage to the lowland farms; although the\n well-known devastations of former eruptions, especially those of 1665\n and 1755, gave rise to extreme alarm and the most serious\n apprehensions among the poor inhabitants.\n\nFootnote 20:\n\n Longest interval.\n\nFootnote 21:\n\n Shortest interval.\n\nFootnote 22:\n\n Most important eruption.\n\nFootnote 23:\n\n \u2018In estimating the seriousness of such a loss, it is necessary to bear\n in mind that the hay harvest is, so far as the vegetable kingdom is\n concerned, the _only_ harvest in Iceland; and that hay is almost the\n sole provender for horses, sheep, and cattle during three-fourths of\n the year.\u2019\n\nFootnote 24:\n\n Founding his statements on the manuscript of the Surgeon Sveinn\n P\u00e1lsson, and on Horrebow\u2019s Natural History of Iceland\u2014p. 12: London\n 1758.\n\nFootnote 25:\n\n From the Greek \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 and \u03b6\u03c9\u03bf\u03bd\u2014a term applied to diseases among animals;\n _e.g._ _murrain_, in which cattle are preyed upon by parasites.\n\nFootnote 26:\n\n \u2018The celebrated agitation of the waters of our own Loch Ness occurred\n contemporaneously with the great earthquake of Lisbon, here also\n referred to.\u2019\n\nFootnote 27:\n\n Stukesley\u2019s \u201cPhilosophy of Earthquakes,\u201d 3d ed., London 1756, 8vo, pp.\n 9-30.\n\nFootnote 28:\n\n \u201cJournal of a Tour in Iceland in the Summer of 1809,\u201d 2d ed., 2 vols.,\n London 1813, by Sir William Jackson Hooker, K.H., D.C.L., L.L.D., &c.,\n the present distinguished Director of the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew.\n\nFootnote 29:\n\n See Dasent\u2019s admirable translation of \u201cBurnt Njal,\u201d since published.\n\nFootnote 30:\n\n Mr. Brynj\u00falfsson had the following lines\u2014intimating the hopelessness\n of searching for the treasure concealed below\u2014repeated to him, when\n recently visiting the locality. They are thus literally rendered by\n him into English.\n\n \u201cThrasa kista audug er \u201cThrasi\u2019s chest wealthy is\n Under forsi Skoga Under foss of Skogar;\n Hver sem th\u00e1ngad fyrsti fer Whosoever thither first goes\n Fiflsku hefir n\u00f3ga.\u201d Foolishness has enough.\u201d\n\nFootnote 31:\n\n There was a slight eruption of this mountain on March 23, 1861, which\n only lasted a few days. The smoke and sulphurous gases which it\n exhaled tarnished metal at 50 miles distance.\n\nFootnote 32:\n\n See illustration, p. 160.\n\nFootnote 33:\n\n See illustration p. 134, where Skapt\u00e1r is represented as rising in the\n distance, over a hill-range on the other side of a level plain, which\n in the wood-cut resembles and might be mistaken for water.\n\nFootnote 34:\n\n This also happened during the eruption of Hekla in 1693.\n\nFootnote 35:\n\n \u201cGreenland, Iceland, and Far\u00f6e,\u201d pp. 38-42: chiefly abridged from\n Stephenson\u2019s \u201cAccount of the Eruption,\u201d published at Copenhagen in\n 1785, which will be found translated in Hooker\u2019s Journal, vol. ii.,\n 124-261. See also Henderson, vol. i., pp. 272-290; and Gliemann, pp.\n 107-109.\n\nFootnote 36:\n\n Second ed. published in 1841.\n\nFootnote 37:\n\n Should be K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1. A.J.S.\n\n[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO REYDARFIORD.]\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n THE EAST COAST. BREIDAMERKR\u2014SEYDISFIORD.\n\n\nSailing north-east along the coast, we see the Breidamerkr ice-plains,\nand the mouth of the river J\u00f6kuls\u00e1, which is only a mile or two long.\nDr. Mackinlay informs us that the most dangerous rivers in Iceland are\nthe shortest. They spring, full formed, from the bosom of the\nthick-ribbed ice. The J\u00f6kuls\u00e1, which crosses Breidamerkr-sandr, is one\nof the most dreaded of these. It springs from Breidamerkr-J\u00f6kul, which,\nhowever, is not a snow-mountain, but only a high field of ice projected\nsouthward into the plain from the great snow-range to the north. Some\nyears it is eight or ten miles from the sea, in others only one; the\nlength of the river varies accordingly. It is half a mile broad.\nSometimes this river gets dammed up, then bursts from caverns of ice\nwith a noise like thunder, carrying along with it masses of ice with\nuncontrollable fury to the sea. Sunshine melting the ice swells such\nrivers more rapidly than rain. The near view of this cold icy region\u2014so\ndreary, lone and still\u2014made one almost feel cold, although the sun was\nbright and the thermometer, at noon, stood at 100 degrees.[38] The\ndazzling whiteness of the snow and the ice-blink, made our eyes ache. It\nwas literally\n\n \u201cA waste land where no one comes\n Or hath come since the making of the world.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: NEAR THE ENTRANCE TO HORNAFIORD.]\n\nAs we approach Hornafiord the character of the mountains changes;\ninstead of great white massive ranges, many isolated, sharp-pointed,\nrugged peaks, called horns, now rise. They are almost free from snow,\nand of richly varied tints, chiefly lilacs and browns, glowing in the\nsunshine.\n\nThe general character of the mountain-ranges at this point, and indeed\nalong the entrances to the fiords of the east coast, as far as\nSeydisfiord, resembles Goatfell and the Holy Island in Arran\u2014firth of\nClyde\u2014only it is higher, wilder, even more serrated, and, in addition,\nexhibits many curious fantastic pointed rocks or _drongs_. Fleecy clouds\noften rested on the peaks, or rolled, incense-like, among them.\n\nThe western half of the island is diversified by a great network of\nlakes, on whose lonely waters, Dr. Mackinlay remarked, \u201cthousands of\nmilk white swans sport in the summer sunshine,\u201d while the eastern half\nis broken up by isolated volcanoes whose smouldering fires are capped\nwith snow.\n\nThe western coast is scooped out into two enormous gulfs, the Faxa and\nBreida fiords; while that portion of the east coast, to which we have\nreferred, viz.: from Hornafiord to Seydisfiord, is all along closely\nindented with little fiords or arms of the sea. These run inland for a\ndistance of from ten to eighteen miles, and average say about two miles\nin breadth. They are separated from each other by lofty mountain ridges,\nsuch as we have described, running far out into the sea, and ending in\nsheer precipitous headlands or lofty horns. Let the reader lay his hand\nflat down on this page with his fingers stretched apart, let him then\nsuppose each of the fingers to represent a mountain range, and the\ninterspaces fiords, and he will be able to form an idea of the way in\nwhich the coast is indented. At Reydar and Berufiords, these ridges\nappear to be about 2000 feet high, with many sheer precipices, half that\nheight, from which a stone could be pitched into the sea. It will thus\nbe seen, that the fiords are shut in on both sides by steep mountain\nridges like walls of rock, the summits of which are often veiled in dark\nclouds, and in some places are covered with perpetual snow. These rocky\nheights are as bare as if they had newly been splintered\u2014not a tree or\nshrub on their sides\u2014and the lone stillness of the fiords is only broken\nby the wild \u201cwater lapping on the crag,\u201d the cataract roaring and\nleaping down rock gulleys, or the streamlet trickling down the broad\nstair-like ledges of the trap, dripping from step to step like a white\nglassy fringe. These fiords appear to have been rents formed when the\nisland was first heaved up; and, where the arm of the sea terminates,\nthey are continued further into the interior as green valleys down which\nrivers flow. In places where mountain-tracks are utterly impracticable,\nthese river-courses serve for bridle-paths in passing from one valley or\nfiord to another.\n\nThe tender herbage affords delightful pasture for sheep; fish, chiefly\ncod, are to be had in abundance in the fiords, and the streams abound in\ntrout. Vessels can sail up and find sheltered havens in which to lie,\nthus affording water carriage for the exchange of commodities, and\nbringing the advantages of the coast to the interior.\n\nIn the country one never meets anything approaching to a village. It is\na populous district where you see a farm in a valley, another group of\nturf hovels, called a _thorpe_, a few miles further up, and perhaps, a\nhomestead of some kind perched on the green slope of a neighbouring\nhill-side. Should there be, in addition to these, a black wood building\nnear the edge of the water, with a white flagstaff before it\u2014it is a\nmerchant\u2019s factory and gives to the place the importance of a\nmarket-town.\n\nIt was now between 2 and 3 o\u2019clock in the morning, but as the sky was\nclear and lovely, and we were sailing along a coast, the striking\nfeatures of which, although singularly picturesque, we had never seen\ndescribed in books, I remained on deck most of the night, and only, from\na forced sense of duty, lay down for a short time without undressing.\n\nThese fiords on the east coast are very similar in character; most of\nthe features we have noted being common to them all. I shall therefore\nsimply enumerate, in their order, the names of those we passed between\nHornafiord and Seydisfiord, a distance of about 100 miles, for the first\n75 of which the steamer\u2019s course lay north-east, and for the remaining\n25 nearly due north:\u2014Skardsfiord, Papafiord, Lonfiord, Altafiord,\nHamarsfiord, Berufiord, St\u00f6dvarfiord, Faskrudsfiord, Reydarfiord,\nNordfiord, and Mjofifiord.\n\nOn Saturday morning, between 5 and 6 o\u2019clock, we entered Seydisfiord,\nsailed up to the head of it and dropped anchor, having now reached the\nextreme point of our destination.\n\nThis lonely fiord on the north-east of Iceland, is land-locked like\nLochgoil or Teignabraich in Scotland. The valley at the head, with hills\non either side, makes a bend to the north, so that there are high hills\nall round us. Those on the south\u2014our left hand side\u2014sweep round, forming\nan amphitheatre, till they are apparently met by those of the\nnorth-side; the fiord is thus shut in on the west, and the continuation\nof the valley, beyond it, shut out.\n\nThe hill-sides are terraced with sixteen or eighteen trap-steps, which\nrun in regular horizontal layers and yet further complete the\nresemblance of the head of the fiord to a great amphitheatre. From these\nsteps, water, glassy-white, may be seen trickling down, every little\nway, all round; with here and there a mountain cataract which has made a\ndeep gully for itself. The hill-range on the left, which sweeps round\nand bounds the view, is capped with a series of singular rocky cones,\noccurring at regular intervals, and in shape resembling the chimneys of\na glass work. They are mottled with snow-patches; mist streaks float\nathwart them; while in the west, not only those chimneys, but the top of\nthe ridge itself is now hid from view, muffled up in dense clouds which\nform the curtain of the amphitheatre. A river flows into the fiord from\nthe valley, which, although green and yielding a hay-crop, is marshy and\nmuch in want of draining. From the sloping nature of the ground, this\ncould easily be done at little expense, and would, we doubt not, prove a\nhighly remunerative investment.\n\n[Illustration: MR. HENDERSON\u2019S FACTORY AT SEYDISFIORD.]\n\nNear the beach are three stores, or factories as they are called; two\nbelong to Danes, and the other to Mr. Henderson, one of the owners of\nthe _Arcturus_, who has been here for sometime but is going south with\nus to-night. The factories are one-storey houses, built of wood. A\ntraffic in produce, chiefly fish and wool, is carried on with the\nfarmers, whose sod-covered dwellings are sparsely scattered along the\nneighbouring coast, or in valleys above the fiords. Customers are\nsometimes attracted from much greater distances; we saw long strings of\nponies riding down water-courses, and crossing the shoulders of bare\nhills where one would think there was scarcely footing for a goat.\n\nBefore breakfast Dr. Mackinlay and I had a swim in the fiord, and found\nthe water much warmer than we anticipated; indeed, it was pleasanter in\nthis respect than the last bath I had in the sea at Teignabraich. We\nthen breakfasted with Mr. Henderson, who gave us a most cordial welcome.\nThe steamer was several days later in arriving than the time he had\nexpected her, so that he had almost begun to despair of her ever coming\nfor him, and was conjuring up gloomy visions of being obliged to winter\nhere, and fancying all sorts of things. Now, for him, all was changed\nand bright. I tried to masticate a bit of raw dried stock-fish, which\nthe Icelanders commonly use, eating it as we do bread. I also tasted\n\u201csnaps,\u201d of which the Danes are so fond, for the first and last time; it\nseemed like a mixture of gin and kirchen-wasser, flavoured with\ncoriander seed. The breakfast before us was a most substantial one,\nthere being no lack either of welcome, which is the best of cheer, or of\nmutton, fish, beer, coffee, milk, and stale black rye-bread. Be it\nremembered that this breakfast was neither Icelandic, Danish, nor\nScotch; but, exhibiting some of the characteristics of all three, seemed\nmarvellously adapted to our present requirements in this distant\nhabitat.\n\nWe stepped into the store, and saw exposed for sale hardware and soft\ngoods of all kinds. In a corner were standing lots of quart-bottles\ngaudily labelled \u201cessence of punch,\u201d whatever that may be. Mr. Henderson\nshowed me some specimens of double refracting calc, or Iceland spar,\nwhich is obtained in the neighbourhood. It only occurs in one place of\nthe island, filling a fissure of greenstone from two to three feet wide\nand twenty to twenty-five feet long, on the north bank of the\nReydarfiord, about a thousand feet above the sea level. There, a cascade\nrushes over the rock, bringing down fragments of the spar from time to\ntime. The mass itself gets loosened, bit by bit, through the action of\nfrost on the moisture which enters edgeways between the laminae, wedging\nthem apart in the direction of the cleavage of the crystals. Transparent\nspecimens more than a few inches in size are rare and valuable. Mr.\nHenderson presented me with a beautiful large semi-transparent\nchalcedony weighing 1 lb 7 oz., and some pebbles.\n\nHis partner, Mr. Jacobson, an Icelander, also gave me a young raven to\nmake a pet of. It was this year\u2019s bird and quite tame. I called it Odin;\nand, having got hold of an old box, improvised a door from a few spars,\nthat it might have a sheltered place to roost in at night till it got to\nthe end of its voyage.\n\nI now wandered up the valley, for an hour or two, alone, and sat down on\na slope, on the right side of it, to look around me and rest. The river,\nnear where I sit, flashes down over a steep rock and forms a fine\nwaterfall, the roaring of which is echoed from the chimney-capped\namphitheatre of hills opposite. Beneath the fall, it flows peacefully\nalong, runnelling and rippling on, to the blue fiord, through the quiet\ngreen valley. White streamlets of water trickle down the trap\nhill-sides, every forty or fifty yards; the whole producing a continuous\nquiet murmur or undertone, not unlike that from the wings of an\ninnumerable swarm of gnats playing in the sunshine on a warm summer\u2019s\nday, but ever broken in upon by the clear liquid tinkle of the\nstreamlets nearest us, heard drip, dripping, with a clear metallic sound\nwhich might be compared to the chirp of the grasshopper. This solitary\nglen, now lying bathed in light, is fanned by the gentle breeze,\nfragrant with the smell of tedded hay, and richly variegated with wild\nflowers\u2014harebells, butter-cups, wild thyme, cotton-grass, and\nforget-me-nots\u2014a gathered bunch of which is now lying beside me on a\nmoss-cushioned rock. Quietly musing here on all, of strange or new, I\nhave seen since leaving home, and dwelling more particularly on the\ngreat kindness I have received at all hands, I feel grateful to God, who\nhas hitherto opened up a way for me and given me friends amongst\nstrangers wherever I chanced to wander.\n\nWe saw specimens of surturbrand, which crops out on the top of a steep\nmountain, at the mouth of the fiord, on the north side, and obtained a\nfew more geological specimens and plants.\n\nAfter dinner, I strolled for a quarter of a mile up the valley with Mr.\nHenderson and Dr. Mackinlay, to visit the farm behind the store. It\nconsists of a group of hovels, the walls are stone and turf, the gables\nwood, and the roofs covered with green sod. The entrance is a dark muddy\npassage leading into a ground-floor apartment as dark and muddy, where,\nin winter, cattle are kept. The kitchen is a dirty, smoky, sooty hole,\nwith fish hanging in it to smoke and dry; a pot of seal-blubber stands\nsteaming in a corner. The fire is raised on a few stones above the\nfloor, like a smithy-forge; while there is a hole in the roof for the\nsmoke. Picking our way through another long passage, dark and dirty, we\nfound a trap-ladder and ascended to a little garret, where I could only\nwalk erect in the very centre. The apartment was floored and fitted up\nwith bunks all round the sides and ends. In these box-beds, at least\nseven people\u2014men, women and children\u2014sleep at night, and sometimes a few\nmore have to be accommodated. The little windows in the roof are not\nmade to open, and no regard whatever is paid to ventilation. Dr.\nMackinlay prescribed for an old man we found lying ill in this\nabominable fetid atmosphere, where his chances of recovery were very\nslight. He was an old farm servant about whom nobody seemed to care\nanything.\n\n[Illustration: FARM HOUSE, SEYDISFIORD.]\n\nIn a little apartment shut off from this one, and in the gable portion\nof the building which in this case constitutes the front of the house,\nan old woman at the window sits spinning with the ancient distaff,[39]\nprecisely as in the days of Homer.\n\nTo amuse the farmer\u2019s daughters I showed them my sketches, with which\nthey seemed much interested.\n\n[Illustration: SEYDISFIORD, LOOKING EAST TOWARDS THE SEA.]\n\nI understood part of their remarks, and could in some degree make myself\nunderstood by them, with the few Danish and Icelandic words I kept\npicking up. On receiving a little money and a few knick-knacks, they,\nall round, held out their hands and shook mine very heartily. This, the\nIcelanders always do, on receiving a present of anything however\ntrifling.\n\nAfter sketching the farm-house, I took two views of Mr. Henderson\u2019s\nstore; one of them from a height behind, looking down towards the fiord,\nand the other from the brink of it, looking up the valley. In the\nlatter, a part of the same farm-house appears, and thus indicates its\nexact position.[40] With the assistance of these three sketches taken\ntogether, the reader will be enabled to form some idea, of the\nappearance presented by this arm of the North Sea.\n\n\n SEYDISFIORD, BY FAR\u00d6E TO LEITH\n\nWe sailed from Seydisfiord at half-past six P.M. on Saturday night,\ndirect for the Far\u00f6e islands.\n\nThere is a singular cone-shaped mountain called Brimn\u00e6s Fjall at the\nmouth of the fiord, showing masses of clay-rock alternating with and\npushing up trap, which is deposited in thin layers of perpendicular\nstructure. Several pillars or shafts are left standing singly on the\nvery summit, and present a very curious appearance, distinctly relieved\nagainst the amber light of the sky. At Dr. Mackinlay\u2019s request I made a\nsketch of it.\n\n[Illustration: BRIMN\u00c6S FJALL.]\n\nA vessel of Mr. Henderson\u2019s, which had been given up as lost, now\nunexpectedly came in sight, which necessitated Mr. Jacobson and a young\nIceland lad, who were _en route_ to Copenhagen, to get on board her and\nreturn to Seydisfiord to look after her cargo, evidently much to their\ndisappointment.\n\nThe wild scenery of the coast, especially at Reydarfiord, was strikingly\npicturesque.[41]\n\nMr. Murray, Professor Chadbourne, Mr. Henderson and I walked the deck\ntill a late or rather an early hour, and watched the fast receding\nmountain-ranges of Iceland\u2014pale lilac, mauve, or deep purple\u2014and the\ndistant horns, shading through similar tints from rose to indigo, all\ndistinctly seen athwart the golden light of the horizon which for hours\nhas been ebbing slowly and softly away, but is now on the turn, and\nabout to flow again.\n\n\n_Sabbath, August 7._ The weather is fine; no land or sail in sight all\nday; whales playing about the ship. Had many pleasant deck-walks and\ntalks, and several quiet hours, sitting perched on the stem, reading, or\nwatching the prow, below, cutting and cleaving through the clear green\nwater like a knife.\n\n\n_Monday morning, August 8._ We are sailing between two of the Far\u00f6e\nislands, bright sunshine lighting up all the regularly terraced\ntrap-rocks, caves, and crevices of this singular group.\n\nI have now got a pet to look after, and, without Shakspere\u2019s authority\nfor it, we know that\n\n \u201cYoung ravens must have food.\u201d\n\nThe last thing I did last night was to shut _Odin_ in his box, and the\nfirst thing this morning to let him out again and give him the freedom\nof the ship. The bird knows me, is pleased when I scratch his head, and\nconfidingly runs hopping to me for protection when the boys about the\nship teaze him more than he likes. His fellow traveller, a young\nIcelandic fox brought on board at Reykjavik to be sent to the Marquis of\nStafford, also runs about the ship during the day. At first we had some\nmisgivings on the subject; for\n\n \u201cTreason is but trusted like the fox\u2014\n Who ne\u2019er so tame, so cherished, and locked up,\n Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.\u201d\n\nHowever, these fears were soon dissipated; for _Odin_ can hold his own,\nand when the fox, approaching furtively, uses any liberty with his tail\nfeathers, he suddenly gets a peck from the bird\u2019s great formidable beak,\nwhich he does not seem much to relish. The salutary fear continues for a\nshort time, is forgotten, and again the dab comes as a reminder. We were\noften greatly amused, watching their individual habits and droll ways,\nwhen the one intruded upon the other. It was half play, half earnest, a\nsort of armed neutrality with a basis of mutual respect.\n\nOn the west coast of Stromoe is the roofless ruin of the church of\nKirkuboe. It was begun in the twelfth century, but never finished. It is\nbuilt of stone, has five large windows and several small ones below; a\nlittle farm house or hut, with red tiles on the roof, stands near it.\nWhat a strange lonely place for a church! Thorshavn lies on the\nother\u2014the east\u2014side of the island. It is only five miles distant as the\ncrow flies, but as we have to sail round the south point, and Stromoe is\ntwenty-seven miles long, we do not reach it till near noon.\n\nOn landing, Mr. Haycock accompanied me to call for Miss L\u00f6bner, who has\nbeen poorly ever since her sea voyage. Her mother presented wine, cake,\ncoffee &c., and was most hospitable. None of us being able to speak\nFar\u00f6ese, at first we felt a little awkward; but a brother of the old\nlady\u2019s who speaks English soon came to the rescue and acted as\ninterpreter. With justifiable pride, they again showed us their flower\nand kitchen garden. I got the whale-knives, caps, shoes, gloves &c.,\nwhich had been made or procured for me during my absence in Iceland. Ere\nleaving, Miss L\u00f6bner appeared to say adieu! and insisted on my accepting\nseveral other specimens of Far\u00f6ese workmanship as remembrances of\nThorshavn. No people could have been kinder.\n\nAgain, wandering about, we explored the town, looked at the church,\nstepped into the stores, passed the governor\u2019s garden, and wandered a\nmile or two in that direction in order to obtain a view, and get quit of\nthe fishy smells which superabound in Thorshavn.\n\nOn our return we called for Mr. M\u00fcller, who presented me with a copy of\nthe gospel of St. Matthew in Danish and Far\u00f6ese, arranged in parallel\ncolumns. I understood him to say that this was the only book ever\nprinted in the Far\u00f6ese dialect, and that it is now out of print and very\nrare. It bears the date of 1823.\n\nHere we saw an old man 76 years of age, an Icelander who has been in\nFar\u00f6e for the last 40 years. He had spent several years in England, and\ntold me that, in 1815, he saw our regiments land at Liverpool after the\nbattle of Waterloo. He speaks English fluently.\n\nA Thames fishing smack, and a sloop from Lerwick, are lying in the bay.\nPiping and dancing goes merrily on, on board the latter, relieved by\nintervals of music alone. In one of these, we heard \u201cThe Yellow Hair\u2019d\nLaddie,\u201d rendered with considerable taste, although, doubtless, several\n\u201cimprovements and additions\u201d were made on the original score.\n\nWe took some Far\u00f6ese boatmen into the saloon of the steamer, and I shall\nnot soon forget the look of wonder and utter astonishment pourtrayed on\ntheir countenances, as they gazed on the mirrors and everything around,\nor were shown things with which they were not familiar and heard their\nuses explained. They were greatly pleased with my life-belt. Dr.\nMackinlay showed them a multiplying-glass, and, as it was handed from\none to another\u2014each man first making the discovery of what had so\ninexplicably excited the wonder of the last looker\u2014the queer\nexclamations of amazement accompanied by inimitable pantomimic gestures\nreached their culminating point, and were irresistibly droll.\n\n[Illustration: NAALS\u00d6E\u2014FAR\u00d6E.]\n\nThe weather is all we could desire. The sailors are singing some curious\nDanish songs, with the time well marked, as they heave the anchor; and\nat 20 minutes past 6 o\u2019clock P.M. we are steaming out of the bay. The\nevening is lovely, and the Thermometer, on the deck, stands at 68\u00b0.\nThorshavn soon disappears, and we leave the Far\u00f6e islands astern,\nrelieved against an amber sky, Dimon being the most striking and\nconspicuous of the group. A few stars shone overhead, and I walked the\ndeck till midnight.\n\n[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE SOUND LEADING TO THORSHAVN.]\n\n_Tuesday, August 9._ At breakfast, tasted a whale-steak which Miss\nL\u00f6bner had yesterday sent on board for me, with particular instructions\nto the stewardess to have it properly cooked. The flesh looked and\ntasted like dry tough beef, with a slight flavour of venison. The\nblubber, however was too strong for any of us to do more than merely\nsatisfy\u2014not gratify\u2014our curiosity.\n\nThe day was lovely. Professor Chadbourne invited me to visit and spend a\nmonth with him during his holiday. Indeed, cordial, pressing\ninvitations, all round, were the order of the day. As fellow-travellers\nwe had been happy together, and felt sorry at the near prospect of our\nlittle party being broken up and scattered; for several valued\nfriendships had been formed.\n\nBetween three and four o\u2019clock in the afternoon, the thermometer\nindicated 98\u00b0 in the sun and 75\u00b0 in the shade. Dr. Mackinlay showed me\nan old Danish dollar he had got, in change, at Reykjavik; it bore the\ndate of A.D. 1619, the year of the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers from\nthe _May Flower_. Part of the day was spent in writing out these pages\nfrom my diary. In the evening we saw, far to our left, faint and dim on\nthe horizon line, the north-west islands of Shetland; and by a quarter\nto 8 o\u2019clock P.M. were sailing twenty miles to the west of Fair Isle,\nwhich lies between Orkney and Shetland. Both groups are in sight. We\nhave not seen a sail since we left Far\u00f6e, and now, what we at first\nfancied to be one, off the north end of the Orkneys, turns out to be a\nlight-house, rising apparently from the sea, but in reality from low\nlying land which is yet below the horizon.\n\nThe sunset to-night is gorgeous; cavernous recesses opening through a\ndense purple cloud-bank into glowing regions of fire; while broad\nflashing gleams ray out on every side athwart the sky, as if from\nfurnace-mouths. Then we have moonlight on a sea smooth as glass, and not\neven a ripple to be seen. The Orkney light-house, now gleaming like a\nsetting star, is left far astern. The phosphoresence along the vessel\u2019s\nside and in her wake is most brilliant; while, seething, electric-like,\nfrom the screw, it rivals the \u201cchurned fire-froth\u201d of the demon steed.\nThe moon, half-hid, is at times deep crimson and again bright yellow.\nMany falling stars are shooting \u201cmadly from their spheres;\u201d not that our\nmusic lured them, although, \u201con such a night\u201d of nights, when all is\nharmonious, we cannot but sing. Mr. Murray gives us \u201cHome, sweet home\u201d\nand \u201cThe last rose of summer,\u201d and ere retiring at midnight, all of us\njoin together in singing the \u201cSpanish Chant.\u201d\n\n\n_Wednesday morning, August 10._ We are off Inverness; wind a-head and\nrising. Professor Chadbourne to-day gave me an oak-leaf which he plucked\nfrom the tree, at Upsala, planted by Linn\u00e6us with his own hands. Wrote\nas long as the heaving of the ship would admit of it, then arranged\nbotanical specimens and read Wordsworth. The wind is blowing so fresh,\noff Peterhead, that, with full steam, we are not making above one and a\nhalf knots; and at times can scarcely keep any way on. Passed the\nBell-Rock; the sea still rising. Went to bed at 11 o\u2019clock P.M.; vessel\npitching a good deal.\n\n\n_Thursday morning, August 11._ Rose at four o\u2019clock and was on deck ere\nthe _Arcturus_ dropt anchor in Leith Roads. But as we cannot get our\ntraps on shore till the custom-house officer comes at nine o\u2019clock to\noverhaul them, we remain and breakfast on board. The examination made,\nat half-past ten o\u2019clock A.M., we landed by a tug steamer, and made for\nour respective railway stations, each, on parting, bidding the other \u201ca\nbright adieu!\u201d in the hope that it might only be for \u201ca brief absence!\u201d\n\u201cOdin\u201d was in good feather: his owner sun-bronzed and strong.\n\nAt length, comfortably ensconsed in the fast express, I lay back in the\ncorner of a compartment, closed my eyes and resigned myself to see\npleasant pictures and dream waking dreams\u2014of snow j\u00f6kuls, volcanoes,\nglaciers, and ice-fields; of geysers, mud-cauldrons, and sulphur-pits;\nof lava plains, black, wierd and blasted, or dreary wastes of ice; of\ndeep rapid rivers, flashing waterfalls, leaping torrents; of frightful\nchasms, rugged cliffs, and precipitous mountains mirrored in deep blue\nfiords; of pathless stony deserts, enlivened at times with oasis-like\nspots of tender green herbage and bright coloured flowers; of wild\nbreak-neck rides, over bare rocks, among slabs and lava-blocks of all\nshapes and sizes and lying in every conceivable direction; through\nvolcanic sands and scori\u00e6; by red and black vetrified craters, or across\ndangerous fords; of multifarious scamperings too, and mud-plashings over\nhill and dale; or wild rides down rocky steeps, not on a phantom steed,\nbut on a sure-footed Iceland pony; of pleasant companionship by the way;\nof cordial welcome and great kindness received, in quiet homesteads, and\nat all hands from the people, wherever we went; then again of Frost\ncontending with Fire, and of all the varied and marvellous phenomena of\nIceland, that singularly interesting island in the lone North Sea.\n\n[Illustration: STROMOE\u2014FAR\u00d6E.]\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 38:\n\n At night it sunk to 50\u00b0.\n\nFootnote 39:\n\n See illustration D at p. 53.\n\nFootnote 40:\n\n Compare illustrations pp. 202, 206, and 207.\n\nFootnote 41:\n\n See illustration p. 197.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n APPENDIX.\n\n\n I.\n\n ICELANDIC STORIES AND FAIRY TALES\n\n TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH BY THE REV. OLAF P\u00c1LSSON, DEAN AND\n RECTOR OF REYKJAVIK CATHEDRAL. REVISED AND EDITED BY DAVID\n MACKINLAY AND ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON.\n\n --------------\n\n\n STORIES OF S\u00c6MUNDUR FRODI, CALLED THE LEARNED.[42]\n\n\n I. THE DARK SCHOOL.\n\nLong, long ago, when Trolls and Giants lived among men, there was a\nfamous school where curious youths were taught the mysteries of\nwitchcraft. France and Germany both claim the honour of it, but no one\nknows where it really was.\n\nIt was kept in a dismal cavern, deep underground, into which no ray of\nsunlight ever entered. Here, the scholars had to stay no less than seven\nwinters; for it took them all that time to complete their studies. They\nnever saw their teacher from one year\u2019s end to another. Every morning a\ngrey grizzly hand, all covered with hair, pushed itself through the\ncavern wall and gave to each one his lesson book. These books were\nwritten all over with letters of fire, and could be read with ease, even\nin the dark. The lessons over, the same grizzly hand again appeared to\ntake away the books and bring in the scholars\u2019 dinner.\n\nAt the close of winter, the scholars who had then got through their\nseven years apprenticeship were dismissed. The great iron door was\nopened, and the master stood watching those who went out; for he had\nstipulated that the scholar who walked hindmost, in passing through, was\nto be seized by him and kept as a thrall. But who was this strange\nschool-master? Why, Old Nick himself. No wonder, then, that each of the\nscholars struggled hard to be first in passing the fatal threshold.\n\nOnce on a time, there were three Icelanders at the dark school; S\u00e6mund\nFrodi, afterwards parish priest at Oddi, Kalfur Arnason, and Halfdan\nEldjarnsson, afterwards parish priest at Fell, in Slettuhlid. They were\nall dismissed at the same time. S\u00e6mund, to the great delight of his\ncompanions, offered to walk hindmost in going out of school, so he\ndressed himself in a long loose cloak, which he took care to leave\nunbuttoned, and bidding good bye to school-fellows left behind, prepared\nto follow his countrymen. Just as he was putting his feet on the first\nstep of the stair which led up from the school door, Old Nick, who was\nwatching hard by, made a clutch at the cloak and called out,\n\n \u201cS\u00e6mund Frodi, pass not the door,\n Thou art my thrall for evermore.\u201d\n\nAnd now the great iron door began to turn on its hinges; but, before Old\nNick had time to slam it too, S\u00e6mund slipt his arms out of the sleeves\nof his cloak, and sprung forward out of the grasp of his enemy.\n\nIn doing so, the door struck him a heavy blow on the heel, which gave\nhim a good deal of pain, when he said,\n\n \u201cThe door hath swung too near the heel,\n But better sore foot than serve the Deil.\u201d\n\nAnd so S\u00e6mund outwitted Old Nick, and got away from the dark school\nalong with his two friends. Since then, it has become a common saying in\nIceland, when a person has had a narrow escape from danger, that \u201cthe\ndoor swung too near his heels.\u201d[43]\n\n\n II. S\u00c6MUND GETS THE LIVING OF ODDI.\n\nAt the time S\u00e6mund, Kalfur, and Halfdan came out of the dark school,\nthere was no priest at Oddi, for the old priest had just died. All three\nof them would fain have the living, and so each went to the king to ask\nit for himself. The king knew his men; and so he sent them all away with\nthe same answer, that whoever reached Oddi first, should be made priest\nof that place.\n\nThereupon S\u00e6mund summoned Old Nick and said to him, \u201cNow, I\u2019ll make a\nbargain with you, if you swim with me on your back across to Iceland,\nand land me there without wetting my coat-tail, I\u2019ll be your servant as\nlong as I live.\u201d Old Nick was highly pleased with the offer and agreed\nat once. So, in less than no time, he changed himself into a seal, and\nleft Norway with S\u00e6mund on his back.\n\nS\u00e6mund took care to have his prayer book with him, and read bits out of\nit every now and then while on the way. As soon as they got close to the\nshores of Iceland, which they did in less time than you would think, he\nclosed the book and suddenly struck the seal such a heavy blow on the\nneck with it that the animal went down all at once into deep water.\nS\u00e6mund, now left to himself, struck out for the shore and got easily to\nland. In this way Old Nick lost his bargain, and S\u00e6mund got the living\nof Oddi.\n\n\n III. THE GOBLIN AND THE COWHERD.\n\nWhen S\u00e6mund was priest of Oddi, he once had a cowherd\u2014a good servant\nwithal, but greatly addicted to swearing. S\u00e6mund often reproved him for\nthis, but all his reproofs were of no avail. At last he told him, he\nreally ought to leave off his bad habits, for Old Nick and his servants\nlived upon people\u2019s curses and wicked words. \u201cSay you so?\u201d said the\ncowherd, \u201cif I knew for certain that Old Nick would lose his meals by\nit, I would never say a bad word more.\u201d So he made up his mind to mend\nhis ways.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll soon see whether you are in earnest or not,\u201d said S\u00e6mund, and so,\nhe forthwith lodged a goblin in the cowhouse. The cowherd did not like\nhis guest, and no wonder: for he was up to every kind of mischief, and\nalmost worried the life out of him with his wicked pranks. The poor\ncowherd bore up bravely for a time, and never let slip an oath or angry\nword. The goblin got leaner day by day, to the intense delight of the\ncowherd, who hoped, bye and bye, to see an end of him.\n\nOne morning, on opening the byre door, the poor cowherd found every\nthing turned topsy-turvy. The milk pails and stools were broken in\npieces and scattered about the floor; and the whole of the cows\u2014and\nthere were many of them\u2014tied tail to tail, were straggling about without\nhalters, and goring each other. It needed but half an eye to see who had\ndone the mischief. So the cowherd in a rage turned round to the goblin\nwho, shrunk and haggard, lay crouched up in a corner of a stall, the\nvery picture of wretchedness, and poured forth such a volley of furious\ncurses as would have overwhelmed any human being in the same plight. The\ngoblin all at once began to revive; his skin no longer shrivelled looked\nsmooth and plump; his eye brightened up, and the stream of life again\nflowed joyously through his veins.\n\n\u201cO, oh!\u201d said the cowherd, as he suddenly checked himself, when he saw\nthe wonderful effect his swearing had on the goblin, \u201cNow I know for\ncertain that S\u00e6mund was right.\u201d And from that day forward he was never\nknown to utter an oath. As for the goblin, he soon pined away again and\nhas long since been beyond troubling anybody. May you and I, and all who\nhear this story, strive to follow the good example of S\u00e6mund\u2019s cowherd!\n\n\n IV. OLD NICK MADE HIMSELF AS LITTLE AS HE WAS ABLE.\n\nS\u00e6mund one day asked Old Nick how little he could make himself. \u201cWhy,\u201d\nreplied he, \u201cas for that I could make myself as small as the smallest\nmidge.\u201d Thereupon S\u00e6mund bored a tiny hole in the door post, and asked\nhim to make good his boast by walking into it. This he at once did; but\nno sooner was he in, than S\u00e6mund stopped the hole with a little plug of\nwood, and made all fast.\n\nOld Nick cursed his folly, cried, and begged for mercy; but S\u00e6mund would\nnot take out the stopper till he promised to become his servant and do\nall that he was told. This was the reason why S\u00e6mund always had it in\nhis power to employ Old Nick in whatever business he liked.\n\n\n V. THE FLY.\n\nAs might be expected, Old Nick always harboured a great ill will against\nS\u00e6mund: for he could not help feeling how much he was in S\u00e6mund\u2019s power.\nHe therefore tried to revenge himself on various occasions; but all his\ntricks failed, for S\u00e6mund was too sharp for him.\n\nOnce, he put on the shape of a little fly, and hid himself\u2014so he\nthought, at least\u2014under the film that had gathered on the priest\u2019s milk\njug, hoping that S\u00e6mund would swallow him unawares, and so lose his\nlife. But S\u00e6mund had all his eyes about him; so instead of swallowing\nthe fly he wrapped it up in the film, covered the whole with a bladder,\nand laid the package on the altar. There, the fly was obliged to remain\ntill after the service, when S\u00e6mund opened the package and gave Old Nick\nhis liberty. It is told, as a truth, that old Nick never found himself\nin a worse case than when lying on the altar before S\u00e6mund.\n\n\n VI. THE GOBLIN\u2019S WHISTLE.\n\nS\u00e6mund had a whistle of such wonderful power, that, as often as he blew\nit, one or more goblins appeared before him, ready to do his\nbidding.[44] One day, on getting up, he happened to leave the whistle\nunder his pillow, and forgot all about it till the afternoon when the\nhousemaid was going to make his bed. He charged her, if she found\nanything unusual about the bed, she was on no account to touch it, or\nmove it from its place. But he might have saved himself the trouble of\nspeaking; for, as soon as the girl saw the whistle, she took it up in\nher hand, and looked at it on every side. Not satisfied with much\nhandling it, she put it to her mouth and blew it lustily. The sound of\nthe blast had not died away before a goblin stood before her, saying,\n\u201cwhat will you have me to do?\u201d The girl was not a little startled, but\nhad the presence of mind to conceal her surprise.\n\nIt so happened that the hides of ten sheep, that had been killed that\nday, were lying on the ground in front of the parsonage. Recollecting\nthis, the girl replied to the goblin, \u201cGo and count all the hairs that\nare on the ten hides outside, and, if you finish your task before I get\nthis bed made, I\u2019ll consent to marry you.\u201d The goblin thought that a\ntask worth undertaking for such a prize; and hurrying out, fell to\ncounting the hairs with all his might. The girl who did not like the\nidea of being the wife of a goblin, lost no time, you may be sure, in\ngetting through with her work; and it was well she bestirred herself;\nfor, by the time the bed was made, the goblin had almost finished his\ntask. Only a few hairs of the last hide remained uncounted, but they\nwere enough to make him lose his bargain. When S\u00e6mund afterwards learned\nhow prudently the girl had got out of her scrape, he was very well\npleased.\n\n\n ICELANDIC FAIRY TALES.\n\n\n BIARNI SVEINSSON AND HIS SISTER SALV\u00d6R.[45]\n\nOnce on a time, a worthy couple, Sveinn and his wife, occupied a farm,\non the shores of the beautiful Skagafiord, in the north country. They\nwere in easy circumstances and were blessed with two fine children, a\nson and daughter, who were the joy of their hearts. Biarni and his\nsister Salv\u00f6r\u2014for these were the names of their children\u2014were twins and\ngreatly attached to each other.\n\nIn the spring of the year,[46] about St. John\u2019s day, when these two had\nreached the age of twenty, the people of Skagafiord were arranging a\nparty to make a journey to the mountains of the interior, to gather\nIceland-moss for making porridge. Sveinn promised to let his son go with\nthe party. As soon as Salv\u00f6r knew that, she felt a great desire to go\ntoo; and so she went to her parents to ask their consent. This was not\nso easily got, as they did not wish to part with both their children at\nonce; and besides, they knew she was ill fitted to bear the hardships\nand fatigues of mountain travelling. But she fretted so much at the\nthought of being left behind, that, at last, they consented to let her\ngo.\n\nThe night before the moss-gatherers were to leave, Sveinn the farmer\ndreamed that he had two beautiful white birds, of which he was very\nfond, and that all at once, to his great grief, the hen-bird disappeared\nand could nowhere be found. On awaking in the morning, he could not help\nthinking that his dream betokened no good to his darling Salv\u00f6r, so he\ncalled her to him, and after telling her his dream, he said to her,\n\u201cSalv\u00f6r dear! I cannot bear to part with you, you must stay at home with\nyour mother and me, for I would never forgive myself if any ill befel\nyou by the way.\u201d Salv\u00f6r who had been in great glee at the prospect of\nriding, day after day, up the romantic valleys to the south of\nSkagafiord, and there tenting out amidst the mountains, was neither to\nhold nor to bind, when she found that, after all, she would have to stay\nat home; she wept with vexation and distressed herself so much that her\nfather could not bear it, and again gave an unwilling consent to let her\ngo. So she accompanied her brother and the rest of the party to the\nmountains.\n\nThe first day after getting there, she gathered Iceland-moss with the\nothers, but during the night she fell suddenly ill and was unable to\nleave her tent on the following day. Biarni stayed with her, and did all\nthat a brother could do to help and comfort her. For three whole days he\nwas her companion, but, on the fourth day, he left her for a time in\ncharge of a friend, while he himself joined the moss-gatherers. After\npartly filling his bag, he sat himself down by a large stone, and,\nresting his head on his hand, brooded over his sister\u2019s unhappy fate; he\nfeared she was going to die among the mountains.\n\nBy and by he heard a great tramping of horses, and, on looking about, he\nsaw two men riding towards him at a quick pace. One of them wore red\ncoloured clothes, and had a red horse; the other who was younger, was\ndressed in black, and was mounted on a black horse. On reaching the\nplace where Biarni was sitting, they dismounted and saluted him by name.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you Biarni,\u201d said the elder of the two strangers. For a time\nBiarni answered not a word, but on being pressed to do so, he opened up\nhis heart to them and told all about his sister\u2019s illness.\n\n\u201cMy companions are going to return home, but I must stay to watch over\nSalv\u00f6r; and who knows how soon she may die in my arms.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are in a hard case Biarni,\u201d said the other, \u201cand I am sorry for\nyou, but won\u2019t you leave your sister with me, and I will take good care\nof her.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d said Biarni, \u201cthat I dare not do, for I know neither who you\nare, nor where you come from. But will you tell me where your home is?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s no business of yours,\u201d said the other, rather gruffly, and then,\ntaking from his pocket a silver-gilt box set with precious stones,\nadded, \u201cWon\u2019t you sell me your sister for this box.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Biarni, \u201cnor for a thousand like it. I would not give her to\nyou for any money.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell! well! there is no help for it, you will at all events accept this\nbox, as a token that you have met with men among the mountains.\u201d\n\nBiarni took the offered gift with pleasure, and thanked the giver. The\ntwo men then bade him farewell and rode away, while he returned to the\ntent. Next morning his companions went away home, leaving him alone with\nhis sister. Though she was now a little better, he dared not sleep, for\nhe was afraid lest the strangers should come and steal her away. But,\nafter watching a whole day and night, he felt overcome with fatigue; so\nhe lay down, and folding his arms round her waist to protect her, fell\ninto a sound sleep. But, when he awoke, his sister was gone, and was\nnowhere to be found. He spent a whole day sorrowfully wandering from\nspot to spot, looking and calling for her, but it was all in vain. He\nthen turned his back on the mountains, and with a heavy heart went home,\nand told his parents what had happened.\n\n\u201cWoe is me,\u201d said Sveinn, \u201cwhat I feared most has come to pass, but\nGod\u2019s will be done!\u201d\n\nThere was great grief in Skagafiord when the news spread from farm to\nfarm; for Salv\u00f6r, with all her way-wardness, was a promising girl, and\nwas every body\u2019s favourite. A party of young men returned to the\nmountains to look for her, but nowhere was the least trace of her to be\nfound.\n\nAnd now ten years had passed away. By this time Biarni was married and\nsettled on a farm, not far from his father\u2019s. During autumn all his\nsheep went amissing, and his shepherd could not discover what had become\nof them though he searched diligently for them three whole days. On\nlearning this, Biarni bid his wife provide him with a week\u2019s supply of\nfood, and an extra pair of shoes; \u201cfor,\u201d said he, \u201cI shall go to the\nmountains myself to look for the sheep.\u201d His parents, who were still\nalive, urged him to stay at home; for they feared that, if he went to\nthe mountains, they might never see his face again.\n\n\u201cI must go,\u201d said he to them, \u201cI cannot afford to lose the sheep. But be\nof good heart, and do not begin to weary for me till the week is over.\u201d\n\nHe then went away on foot, and did not leave off walking for three days.\nAt the end of that time he came to a cavern, where he turned in and lay\ndown to sleep. On waking, he could not see a yard before him; for a\nthick fog which rested on the ground. He continued his journey, but soon\nlost his way. Towards evening the fog cleared off, and he found himself\nin a spacious valley, not far from a large well built farm house. It was\nthe hay season, so that all the people of the farm were busy in the\nmeadow. On getting near the house, he noticed, in particular, two women\nand a girl who were tedding the hay. \u201cGod\u2019s peace be with you,\u201d said he,\non reaching the spot; and then, telling them of his mishaps, he asked\npermission to stay all night under their roof. They gave him a hearty\nwelcome, and the girl went with him to the house. She was of more\ngenteel appearance than the rest\u2014young and handsome\u2014and, as Biarni\nthought, bore some resemblance to his long lost but well remembered\nsister. This unexpected circumstance renewed his old griefs, but he did\nwhat he could to seem cheerful before his young hostess. She led him\nthrough several apartments to a large well furnished room, where\neverything was neat and tidy. Here, she drew in a chair, and kindly\nasked him to sit down and rest, while she brought in supper. He had not\nlong to wait; for she soon placed upon the table a plentiful supply of\nmeat and wine.\n\nAfter supper, she showed him to the little room where he was to sleep\nfor the night; she then took away his wet clothes, wished him a kind\ngood night, and left the room.\n\nAs Biarni lay in bed, he fell a-wondering where he was, and how the\nsight of the girl should have so waked up the sad memories of the past.\nHe fell asleep thinking of these things, but was soon awakened by the\nsound of singing in a room over his head. It was the family at evening\nworship, as is the custom of the country. He heard both men and women\nsinging, but one voice sounded clear above all others, and thrilled to\nhis very heart, so strongly did it remind him of his sister Salv\u00f6r.\nThoughts of the past filled his mind and kept him awake for hours, but\nhe fell asleep again, and slept on, till he was roused up in the morning\nby the girl. She brought with her a suit of fine clothes, and bade him\nput them on.\n\n\u201cTo-day is Sunday,\u201d she added, \u201cand you must stay here till to-morrow.\u201d\nShe then left the room.\n\nWhile Biarni was putting on his clothes, a little boy in a green coat,\nand very nicely dressed, came into the room and wished him good morning.\n\u201cWhat has brought you here, so far away from home?\u201d said the little\nfellow to him.\n\n\u201cI have come to look for some sheep that I have lost.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I have not seen them in this valley. But I hope you won\u2019t go to\nlook for them to-day. Father is going to hear service in the church, and\nyou must be there too.\u201d\n\nBefore Biarni had time to reply, some one called the boy away, saying,\n\u201cSveinn, come here, and don\u2019t plague the stranger with your nonsense.\u201d\n\nAt breakfast, Biarni was waited on by the girl who had treated him so\nwell the evening before.\n\nTowards mid-day, people began to come from far and near, to join in the\npublic service in the church close by. The boy came for Biarni, and led\nhim by the hand into the church and showed him to a seat. On looking\nabout, what was his surprise to see by his side the man in the red\nclothes whom he had seen, ten years before, among the mountains! But,\nhis surprise was greater still, on discovering that the clergyman who\nconducted the service, was no other than the man in the black dress who\nhad travelled with the other. The church was full of people. Most of the\nmen were tall and strongly built, but had something forbidding about\ntheir looks. Some wore brown knitted garments of undyed wool. Biarni\nsaid nothing to his neighbour, but took out the gilt box and offered him\na pinch of snuff. This he took, but without seeming to recognize Biarni.\n\nBy and by, Biarni saw, seated just in front of the pulpit, a comely well\ndressed woman who seemed the very picture of his sister. When their eyes\nmet, she was overcome with emotion and began to smile and weep by turns.\nBiarni now felt confident that it was indeed his beloved sister Salv\u00f6r\nwhom he now saw before him.\n\nThe service decently performed to the end and the blessing pronounced,\nthe boy again took Biarni by the hand and led him out. In passing the\nchurch door, an old ill looking man, who sat there, tripped Biarni up\nand made him fall. On this, the man in the red clothes came forward and\nchastised the offender, while Biarni went with the boy into the farm\nhouse. The two men whom Biarni had met among the mountains, shortly\nafter came in and saluted him.\n\n\u201cDo you know us, Biarni!\u201d said they to him kindly.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied he. But not another word could he utter for emotion.\n\nA moment after, the woman, he had seen in the church and taken for his\nsister, entered the room. She flew into his arms and pressed him to her\nbosom saying,\n\n\u201cBefore we were born we lay in each other\u2019s arms, I was taken weeping\nfrom thy embrace, and now I return laughing to thy arms, my brother.\u201d\n\nIt was a joyful meeting.\n\nWhen Biarni recovered himself, he told his sister about his parents, and\nalso all that had happened in Skagafiord since her departure. The man in\nred clothes then addressed himself to Biarni, and said,\n\n\u201cWhilst thou wert asleep among the mountains, I took thy sister away\nfrom thee and gave her in marriage to this man in the black dress, who\nis my son. He is the clergyman of the valley and I am the sysselman. It\nwas I that took away the sheep and led thee astray to this place, that\nbrother and sister might meet again. To-night thou must stay here with\nthy sister. To-morrow I shall give thee back thy lost sheep and go with\nthee part of the way to Skagafiord.\u201d\n\nBiarni spent a happy evening with Salv\u00f6r. In the morning he took leave\nof her with many tears, and departed under the guidance of her husband\nand of her father-in-law, who gave him back his sheep, and helped him to\ndrive them. On reaching the inhabited part of the country, his new\nfriends parted with him and bade him an affectionate farewell; but not\nbefore they had made him promise to leave Skagafiord and live with them.\n\n\u201cYou must come and settle in the valley beside us,\u201d said they to him,\n\u201cwe shall return next summer and lead you and your friends to your\nsister\u2019s home.\u201d\n\nOn getting to Skagafiord, Biarni told his wife and mother all that had\nhappened to him, when away, and also the promise he had made to remove\nto the mountains; but charged them to say nothing to the neighbours\nabout it. His parents were rejoiced to learn that Salv\u00f6r was still\nalive, and promised to go with him and his wife.\n\nIn June of the next year, three men, from the mountains, rode up one\nnight to Biarni\u2019s house. The night following, Biarni, and his parents,\nand all his household went away with them and in due time reached the\nvalley where Salv\u00f6r lived. How it rejoiced Sveinn and his wife to see\nagain their long lost daughter! They settled in the valley and died\nthere, at a good old age.\n\nBiarni lived there too, for many years, but he could never forget the\nbeautiful Skagafiord; so when age came upon him, he returned to his old\nhome, and spent his latter years among the friends of his youth.\n\n\n UNA THE FAIRY.\n\nMany many years ago, a strapping young fellow, called Geir, was settled\nin the farm of Randafell, on the south slope of the Eyafialla mountains,\nnear the sea-coast. Every thing prospered with him; for he was active\nand industrious, and scorned to eat the bread of idleness. His wife was\nas industrious as himself, but unfortunately, she took ill and died,\nshortly after their marriage. At the hay-making season, which came on\nsoon after, he missed his wife greatly; for the maid servants were too\nfew to look after the house and make the hay.\n\nOne day, when they had a good deal more work before them than they were\nable to get through, a strange woman made her appearance in the hay\nfield, and, without so much as saying, \u201cby your leave,\u201d began at once to\nhandle the rake; and cleverly she handled it, too, for she got through\nmore work than any two of them. She was young and handsome, but silent\nas the grave. Not a word could Geir, or any one else, get out of her the\nlive long day. At night she disappeared, no one knew where; but, when\nmorning came, there was she, first in the field, ready to take her place\namong the women.\n\nThings went on in this way till the end of the harvest, when Geir went\nup to her, and thanked her kindly for the help she had given them.\n\nShe took what he said in good part, and no longer refused to talk with\nhim. They had a long chat together, but Geir was not made a bit the\nwiser, as to where she lived, or whose daughter she was. She told him,\nhowever, that her name was Una.\n\n\u201cUna,\u201d said he to her at last, \u201cI am greatly in want of a housekeeper; I\ndon\u2019t know any body so likely to suit as you; will you take the\nsituation?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no objection to do so,\u201d she replied, \u201cwhen do you want me?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sooner the better.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I shall come with my luggage to-morrow, and take up my abode with\nyou.\u201d She then disappeared.\n\nNext morning, she walked into the farm house, and set down a large\nchest, full of clothes, which she had brought with her. This she put out\nof the way in the closet, and then began to bustle about the house,\nlooking after household duties.\n\nAnd now things began to prosper again with the Randafell farmer. Una was\na capital manager, and soon became famous all over the country side for\nher good butter, and her well ordered house. Geir was delighted with his\nhousekeeper; but one thing distressed him\u2014he could not persuade her to\ngo to church.\n\nWhen Christmas Eve came round, Geir and all the servants went to church,\nto the vesper service. Geir was anxious that Una should go too. But no!\nshe would not budge, excusing herself by saying, that she was needed at\nhome to look after the house. It was morning before the church goers got\nback, for the church was a good three hours\u2019 ride from Randafell. On\nreturning they found Una busy preparing the Christmas feast. The\nordinary work of the house was done, so that they had nothing to do but\nto take a few hours rest, before sitting down to enjoy themselves.\n\nBy the time the third winter came round, Geir began to think of taking a\nwife, and who so likely to suit him as Una! And so thought all the\nneighbours too. Many a talk they had about her, when gathered together\nin the churchyard, on the Sundays, waiting the arrival of the clergyman.\nAfter discussing her good qualities, \u201cIsn\u2019t it strange,\u201d the one would\nsay to the other, \u201cthat we can\u2019t find out who Una is, or where she comes\nfrom?\u201d\n\n\u201cAye! that is true,\u201d another would say, \u201cbut isn\u2019t it stranger still,\nthat all the time she has been at Randafell, she has never once entered\nthe church door?\u201d\n\nGeir was very fond of her, but could not make up his mind to ask her to\nmarry him, so long as she refused to bend her knee in prayer to God.\n\nOn the third Christmas Eve, Geir set out, with all his household, to the\nmidnight service in the church. Una as usual remained at home. When they\nwere on the road, Geir\u2019s serving man suddenly complained of severe pain.\nHe lay down on the spot, and said he would rest there till he got\nbetter; so Geir and the others went on without him.\n\nAs soon as they were out of sight, the man got up to his feet, mounted\nhis horse and rode back again to the farm. His sickness was only\nfeigned, in order to get the chance of finding out what could tempt Una\nalways to stay at home, at a time when every true hearted Icelander made\na point of joining his neighbours, in the house of God, to commemorate\nthe anniversary of that blessed night when Christ was born in Bethlehem.\n\nOn reaching the farm, he unsaddled the horse, and slipped quietly in,\ntaking care to hide in a dark corner where he could see all that was\ngoing on, without being himself seen. Una was busy sweeping and cleaning\nthe house; and so cleverly did she go about her work that everything was\nput to rights in a very short time. After washing herself, she went to\nthe store-closet and put on a dress which the man had never seen till\nnow, and which was more befitting a king\u2019s daughter than a poor farmer\u2019s\nhousekeeper. Never before had Una looked so handsome and beautiful.\n\nShe now took out of her chest a piece of red cloth, which she put under\nher arm. Shutting her chest and the closet door, she left the house and\nran down the meadow, till she came to a pool of water. Here she spread\nout the red cloth, and placed herself upon it. At this instant the man,\nwho had been breathlessly following her, came up, and unseen by her just\nsucceeded in getting his foot on a corner of the cloth. And now they\nsunk down and down into the earth, with a feeling as if they were going\nthrough smoke. By and by they landed on a green plain, not far from a\nsplendid farm house. Una took up the cloth, put it under her arm, and\nwent up to the house. The man walked softly behind, taking care to keep\nout of her sight. A great many people came out of doors to welcome Una,\nwho seemed rejoiced to see them, and saluted them kindly.\n\nGreat preparations were going on inside for a feast. The guest chamber\nwas swept and garnished, and the table laid. As soon as the people took\ntheir places several dishes were brought, and abundance of good wine.\nThe serving man, who had slipped in with the others unknown to Una, took\nhis place among the guests. Among other things he was presented with a\nfine rib of smoked mutton, which he took and preserved, for he had never\nseen so fat a rib before. After supper the people amused themselves with\ngames of different kinds, and were all very happy.\n\nJust as day began to break, Una told her friends, she would have to go\naway, as her master, the peasant, would soon be back from church. So she\ntook a kind leave of every one, and walked to the spot where she had\nalighted, on coming down.\n\nThe man followed her, and again succeeded in getting his foot on the\ncloth, without being seen. So they ascended together through the dark\nearth, till they came to the pool of water again. Una took up the cloth,\nand went straight to the store-room to change her dress. After that she\nwent into the house, to await the return of the peasant, and make ready\nthe Christmas feast.\n\nThe serving man had, meantime, taken up his place at the spot where he\nhad been left behind the night before. When the farmer came up he asked\nhim how he was.\n\n\u201cI am almost well again,\u201d said the man, \u201cand quite able to go home with\nyou.\u201d\n\nSo they all rode together to Randafell.\n\nUna received them with a smiling face, and told them that the feast was\nquite ready. So they were not long in taking their places. As is usual\non such occasions, the principal dish was smoked mutton. As this\nhappened to be very fine, the farmer took up a large rib, and holding it\nup said,\n\n\u201cHave any of you ever seen such a rib as this?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think I have; what think you of that,\u201d said the serving man, as he\nheld up before them the rib he had got the night before.\n\nAs soon as Una saw this, she changed colour, went out without saying a\nsingle word, and was never afterwards seen.\n\n\n GILITRUTT.\n\nOnce on a time, a smart active young peasant occupied a farm under the\nEyafialla mountains. As his pasture land was good, he kept many sheep.\nThese yielded him no small store of wool, and yet, it was no easy matter\nfor him to keep a coat on his back; for the wife whom he had lately\nmarried, though young and healthy, was lazy to a degree, and gave\nherself little concern about the affairs of the house. Her husband was\ngreatly dissatisfied, but could not induce her to mend her ways.\n\nAt the close of summer he gave her a large bundle of wool, and told her\nto be sure to spin it and work it up into coarse wadmal during the\nwinter months. \u201cVery well,\u201d she said, \u201cI\u2019ll see about it bye and bye;\u201d\nbut at the same time looked as if she would far rather have nothing to\ndo with it. She let it lie in a corner untouched, spite of the hints she\ngot every now and then, from her husband. It was mid-winter before she\nfully made up her mind to set to work; and then she began to perplex\nherself, as to how she could get so much wool worked up, before the\nclose of winter.\n\nJust then, an ugly old woman came to the door, begging for alms.\n\n\u201cCan you do any work for me in return,\u201d asked the peasant\u2019s wife.\n\n\u201cPerhaps I can,\u201d replied the old woman.\n\n\u201cBut what kind of work would you have me to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI want you to make some coarse cloth for me, out of this wool.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, let me have the wool then.\u201d\n\nAnd so, the peasant\u2019s wife handed the large bag of wool to the old\nwoman, who, without more ado, tossed it up on her back, at the same time\nsaying,\n\n\u201cYou may depend on my coming back with the cloth, the first day of\nsummer.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what payment will you ask for your work when you bring the cloth,\u201d\nsaid the peasant\u2019s wife.\n\n\u201cI won\u2019t take any payment; but you must tell me what my name is, in\nthree guesses.\u201d\n\nThe peasant\u2019s wife, too lazy to spin and weave for herself, agreed to\nthis strange condition, and so the old woman departed.\n\nAs the winter months passed on, the peasant often asked what had become\nof the wool.\n\n\u201cGive yourself no concern about it,\u201d said the wife, \u201cyou\u2019ll have it\nback, all spun and woven, by the first day of summer.\u201d\n\nAs he never could get any other answer, he at last ceased to talk about\nthe wool. All this time his wife was trying to find out the old woman\u2019s\nname, but all her efforts were unavailing. By the time the last month of\nwinter came round she became so anxious and uneasy that she could\nneither eat nor sleep. Her husband was greatly distressed at the change\nwhich had come over her, and begged her to let him know what ailed her.\nUnable longer to keep the matter secret, she told him the whole.\n\nHe was very much startled at what he heard, and told her how very\nimprudent she had been, as the old woman was, most certainly, a witch,\nand would take her away if she failed in her bargain.\n\nA day or two after this conversation, he had occasion to go up the\nadjoining mountain. He was so bowed down with grief, at the thought of\nlosing his wife, that he scarcely knew what he was about; and so\nwandered from the road, till he came to the bottom of a lofty cliff.\nWhile he was considering how he could get into the right road again, he\nthought he heard a sound as of a voice inside the hill. Following the\nsound he discovered a hole in the face of the cliff. On peeping through\nthis hole, he saw a tall old woman sitting weaving with the loom between\nher knees; and, as she beat the treadles, every now and then breaking\ninto a snatch of song,\n\n \u201cHa! Ha! and Ho! Ho!\n The good wife does not know\n That Gilitrutt is my name.\u201d\n\n\u201cAha!\u201d muttered the peasant to himself, \u201cif she does not know now, she\nwill know bye and bye;\u201d for he felt quite sure that was the same old hag\nwho had so imposed on his poor foolish wife.\n\nAll the way home, he kept repeating the word _Gilitrutt_, and, as soon\nas he got in doors, he wrote it down on a piece of paper, that he might\nnot forget it. But he did not, at that time, give his wife the least\ninkling of what had befallen him. The poor woman grew more and more\nsorrowful, as the days passed on; and, when the closing day of winter\ncame, she was so woe-begone that she had not the heart even to put on\nher clothes. In the course of the day, her husband enquired if she had\nfound out her visitor\u2019s name yet.\n\n\u201cAlas, no! Would to God I could find it out! for I am like to die of\ngrief.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no occasion for that,\u201d he replied cheerfully, \u201cI\u2019ve found out\nthe name for you; so you need not be afraid to meet the old hag.\u201d With\nthat, he handed her the piece of paper, and at the same time told about\nhis adventure on the mountain. She took the paper, with a trembling\nhand, for at first she feared that the news was too good to be true;\nand, though her husband\u2019s story comforted her not a little, she could\nnot get rid of a suspicion that the name might not be the true one.\n\nShe wanted her husband to stay indoors the next day, so as to be present\nwhen the old woman called.\n\n\u201cNo! no!\u201d said he, \u201cyou kept your own counsel when you gave her the\nwool, so, you must do without me when you take in the cloth, and pay her\nthe wages agreed on.\u201d\n\nHe then left the house.\n\nAnd now came the first day of summer. The peasant\u2019s wife was in the\nhouse alone, and lay a-bed, listening with a beating heart for the first\nsound of the old hag\u2019s footsteps. She had not long to wait; for, before\nthe morning passed, a trampling noise was heard, and in stalked the old\nwoman with a bundle on her back, and a scowl on her face. As soon as she\ngot within the room, she threw down the big bundle of cloth, and, in an\nangry tone, called out,\n\n\u201cWhat is my name now? What\u2019s my name?\u201d\n\nThe peasant\u2019s wife, who was almost dead with fear, said \u201cSigny!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat my name! That my name! guess again, good wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cAsa,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cThat my name! That my name! No indeed. You must guess again; but\nremember this is your last chance.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you not called Gilitrutt?\u201d said the woman timorously.\n\nThis answer came like a thunderbolt on the old hag, who fell down with a\ngreat noise on the floor, and lay there for sometime. She then got up,\nand, without speaking a word, went her way out of the house, and was\nnever more seen in the country-side.\n\nAs for the peasant\u2019s wife, she was full of joy at her deliverance, and,\never after, was a changed woman. She became a pattern of industry and\ngood management, and henceforth always worked her own wool herself.\n\n\n HILDUR THE FAIRY QUEEN.\n\nOnce on a time a farmer settled in a mountainous part of the country,\nbut the particular spot is not mentioned, nor has his name come to us;\nbut we do know that he was a bachelor, and had a housekeeper named\nHildur.\n\nWho Hildur was, neither the farmer nor any of the neighbouring gossips\ncould find out: but as she took good care of the household and\ndischarged her duties faithfully, she was allowed to keep her own\nsecret. All the servants liked her, and the farmer thought himself very\nfortunate in having fallen in with such a housekeeper. She was of a\nquiet disposition, but always kind and obliging.\n\nThe farmer\u2019s affairs were in a flourishing state: his sheep throve and\nmultiplied, and he had nothing to annoy him except this, that he had\ngreat difficulty in getting shepherds to enter his service. The cause of\nthis was not that the farmer treated his shepherds badly, but that, one\nafter another, they were found dead in bed, on Christmas morning.\n\nIn olden times, it was the custom for the Icelanders, on Christmas Eve,\nto meet together at midnight for public worship; and any one who\nabsented himself from church, on that occasion, was considered as much\nto blame as if he were keeping away on Christmas day itself. Those\nliving up among the mountains, and who had long weary roads to go, had\noften great difficulty in getting to church in time; especially those\nwho were not able to leave home before the Pleiades could be seen in the\nsouth-eastern heavens.\n\nIn this farm, the shepherds did not usually get home from work before\nthat time, so that they generally missed the opportunity of attending\nthe Christmas Eve service. Hildur never went on those occasions, as she\npreferred staying at home to watch the house\u2014as is customary for some\none to do on Christmas Eve\u2014and attend to the preparations for the\nChristmas feast. She was always busily occupied in this way till the\nnight was far advanced, so that the church-goers were back from the\nservices and asleep in bed, before she retired for the night.\n\nAs often as Christmas morn came round, the farmer\u2019s shepherd, whoever he\nmight be, was found dead in bed. This strange fatality was well known\nover all the country side. No wonder, then, that shepherds were afraid\nof entering the farmer\u2019s service, even though offered better wages than\nthey could get elsewhere. No mark of violence was ever seen on the body\nof the unfortunate shepherd, so that no blame could be attached either\nto the farmer, or to any one in the house. At last the farmer declared\nthat he could not find it in his heart to engage shepherds, with the\nprospect of certain death before them, and that he would, for the\nfuture, leave his sheep to take care of themselves.\n\nWhen things had reached this pass, there came to him, one day, an active\nhardy man, who offered his services as shepherd.\n\n\u201cI am not so much in want of your services as to be willing to take\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you engaged a shepherd for next winter?\u201d asked the stranger.\n\n\u201cNo, I have not,\u201d replied the farmer, \u201cbut surely you have heard how sad\nhas been the end of all that have been before you.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes, I\u2019ve heard all about it; but their fate will not hinder me from\ntaking care of your sheep, if you are only willing to engage me.\u201d\n\nAt last, the farmer complied with his entreaties, and engaged him as\nshepherd. He soon shewed that he was in every respect fitted for the\nplace. He was kind and obliging; and both able and willing to lend a\nhand at any farm work, so that he soon became a favourite with\neverybody.\n\nTill Christmas-tide, nothing extraordinary happened. On Christmas Eve,\nthe farmer went to church as usual with his domestics. The housekeeper\nalone stayed at home, and the shepherd was left in charge of the sheep.\nTowards evening the shepherd came in from his work, and after partaking\nof dinner, lay down to rest in bed. He took care, however, not to drop\nasleep; for, though free from fear, he thought it only prudent to keep\nawake. When the night was advanced he heard the church-goers come in,\nand take some refreshment before going to bed. Up till this time, he had\nnot remarked anything unusual; but when the others had fallen asleep, he\nfelt languid and weary. He was afraid lest he should be overpowered with\nsleep, and did his best to keep awake. A little while after, some one,\nwhom he believed to be the housekeeper Hildur, stealthily approached the\nbed-side. Thinking he was asleep, she began to try to put something in\nhis mouth. He felt certain that it must be a magic-bridle, and so,\npretending to be quite unconscious of what was going on, he let himself\nbe quietly bridled.\n\nAs soon as the bridle was on, she led him out very easily; mounting on\nhis back, she rode away at a smart pace till they reached a yawning\nchasm in the earth. Then she dismounted beside a stone, and letting go\nher hold of the bridle, disappeared into the chasm. The shepherd did not\nwant to lose sight of her, and so tried to follow; but he soon found\nthat that was out of his power, so long as he had on the bridle. By dint\nhowever of rubbing his head against the stone, he got rid of the bridle,\nand leaving it behind, he threw himself into the chasm into which Hildur\nhad sprung.\n\nAs far as he could judge, he had not gone very deep down till he saw\nHildur again. She was then landed on a fine level meadow, along which\nshe was walking quickly. From what he saw he came to think that all was\nnot right with Hildur, and that she was not the woman she had seemed to\nbe in the farmer\u2019s house. In order to keep her from seeing him as he\nfollowed her over the plain, he took out of his pocket a stone which had\nthe wonderful property of making him invisible so long as he held it in\nhis hand. With this stone of darkness in his left-palm, he made after\nher as fast as he could, and kept close behind her the rest of the way.\n\nAfter walking some distance over the plain, there appeared in sight a\nsplendid palace of great size, towards which Hildur directed her steps.\nA great crowd of people came out to meet her. Foremost among them was a\nman dressed in purple and gold, who bade her welcome, at the same time\ncalling her his beloved wife, and embracing her very affectionately.\nThose who attended him saluted her as their queen, and received her with\nevery mark of respect. By the king\u2019s side were two children, of eight or\nten years of age, who ran joyfully into Hildur\u2019s arms, and called her\nmother.\n\nOn entering the palace, Hildur was very honourably received. She was\ndressed in a royal robe, and had rings of gold put upon her hand. The\nshepherd followed the crowd into the palace, and took up his place where\nhe could see all that was going on without running the risk of being\nfound out. The furniture was rich and gorgeous beyond conception, so\nthat he was completely dazzled with the sight.\n\nIn the principal saloon a table was set out and a feast prepared, the\nsplendour of which cannot be described.\n\nHildur then made her appearance, magnificently attired, and sat down on\nthe throne beside the king, while the other guests took their places on\neach side.\n\nAt the close of the feast, the table was removed, and soon the guests\nbegan to pass the time in dancing, or other amusements. The king and\nqueen paid no heed to what was going on, but sat alone, engaged in a\nclose conversation which seemed to the shepherd to be at once kind and\nsorrowful.\n\nWhile the king and queen were thus occupied, three children, younger\nthan those before mentioned, came forward, and their mother Hildur, who\nreceived them kindly, took the youngest on her knee and fondled it. But,\nas the child was restless and uneasy, she set it down again. She then\ndrew a ring from her finger, and gave it to the child as a plaything.\nThe child amused itself for some time with it, and then dropped it on\nthe floor. The shepherd, who was standing close by, at the time, hastily\nsnatched it up and put it into his pocket, without being observed by any\none. As soon as the ring was missed, a careful search was made for it,\nbut, to the great astonishment of everybody but the shepherd, it was\nnowhere to be found.\n\nAs the night was now far advanced, the queen\u2014Hildur\u2014began to prepare for\nher departure. Those present were sorry to see this, and begged her to\nstay longer with them. The king also added his entreaties, but all\nwithout effect. Before this time, the shepherd had noticed an\nill-looking woman, who sat all alone in a corner of the room. She was\nthe only one that had failed to give Hildur a joyful welcome to the\npalace, or ask her to prolong her stay. As soon as the king saw that\nHildur was bent on going, he stepped up to this old woman, and said,\n\u201cTake back your words, mother! at my humble entreaty, so that my queen\nmay no longer be bound to absent herself from home, and from those\nnearest and dearest to her.\u201d\n\nThe old woman replied angrily, \u201cAll my words shall stand, I will by no\nmeans retract them.\u201d\n\nWith a sorrowful heart, he went back to the queen, and, folding his arms\naround her, begged her in words of kindness not to leave him again.\n\n\u201cAlas,\u201d said she, \u201cI cannot stay here, in consequence of the spell by\nwhich your mother has bound me, and who knows if I shall ever see you\nmore.\u201d\n\nShe then told him she had killed so many men it could no longer be\nconcealed, and that she would certainly be punished, even though what\nshe had done was sore against her will.\n\nWhile she was lamenting her unhappy lot, the shepherd, seeing how\nmatters stood, made the best of his way out of the palace, and went\nstraightway to the bottom of the chasm. He reached the top, with the\ngreatest ease. After that, he put the stone of darkness in his pocket,\nand putting the bridle in his mouth again, waited patiently on Hildur.\nIt was not long before Hildur made her appearance, looking very\nsorrowful. Taking a hold of the bridle, she mounted on his back and rode\nquickly back to the farm.\n\nOn her arrival she laid the shepherd quietly in bed, and unbridled him,\nand then slipped away to her own bed, where she lay down to sleep.\nAlthough the shepherd had been all this time wide awake, he feigned\nsleep so well that Hildur was quite deceived. After she had gone to bed,\nhe was no longer on his guard, but fell asleep, and as might be expected\nslept till it was broad day. The farmer was astir early in the morning,\nfor he was anxious to know if this Christmas, like so many that was\ngone, was to be a season of mourning in place of a season of rejoicing.\nThe most of the servants got up early too, but, while they were\ndressing, he went quietly to the shepherd\u2019s bed, and touching him with\nhis hand, found that he was alive and apparently well. This rejoiced the\nheart of the farmer, who falling down on his knees, praised God loudly\nfor his great goodness. The shepherd, shortly after, got up in the best\nof health. As soon as he was dressed, the people of the house gathered\nabout him, to ask if anything unusual had befallen him during the night.\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d said he, \u201cexcept that I had a very wonderful dream.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat kind of a dream?\u201d\n\nThe shepherd began with the tale, as it is here told; how Hildur came to\nhis bed and bridled him; and every thing exactly, as far as he could\nrecollect. When he had done, all were silent except Hildur, who said,\n\n\u201cIf you tell the truth, show us some token to prove what you say.\u201d\n\nThe shepherd, noways daunted by this demand, shewed them the ring, which\nhe had picked up from the floor of the fairy palace during the night,\nand said,\n\n\u201cThough I am not bound to bring forward proofs, I can easily do so, for\nthere is token sufficient that I have been with the fairies. Is not that\nyour ring, Queen Hildur?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo be sure it is,\u201d replied Hildur \u201cand may good fortune ever attend\nyou, for you have delivered me from the spell by which my cruel\nmother-in-law bound me, and through which I have been compelled to do so\nmany bad deeds which my soul abhorred.\u201d\n\nThen queen Hildur told her story as follows. \u201cI was a fairy maid of low\ndegree, but the present fairy king fell in love with me. The marriage\nwas so displeasing to his mother, that she became furious with rage and\ntold him that he would have to part with me soon, and that, after that,\nwe could enjoy each other\u2019s society only at rare intervals and for a\nshort time together. But me she bound with such a spell, that I was\nforced to become a servant in the world of woe, and, every Christmas\nEve, to kill a man. I was to bridle him when asleep, and ride on his\nback along the same road that I took with the shepherd last night in\ngoing to meet the king. This I was to do till I was convicted of murder\nand put to death, unless, before that, I should fall in with a man so\ncourageous as to dare to go with me to the world of Fairies, and then be\nable to show plain proofs that he had been there and seen what was done.\nNow, it is clear that all the other shepherds of this farmer have\nsuffered death for my sake, but, as it was not in my power to prevent\nit, I hope their deaths will not be laid to my charge. This\nstout-hearted man is the first who dared to venture into the dark road\nthat leads to Fairyland. I shall yet reward him for delivering me from\nthe spell of my cruel mother-in-law. I thank you all for your kindness\nto me, during the years I have been among you. But I must stay here no\nlonger, for I long for my proper home.\u201d\n\nAfter these words Queen Hildur disappeared, and since then, she has\nnever once been seen in the world of mankind.\n\nOf the shepherd, it is told, that he married and settled down on a farm,\nin the following spring. He was generously treated by the farmer, who,\nwhen they parted, stocked his farm free of all cost to him. Ere long he\nbecame noted as one of the best farmers of the neighbourhood, and was\noften called upon for his advice and assistance in matters of\ndifficulty. He was beloved by all, and successful beyond all his\nexpectations in whatever he undertook. None of his neighbours could\nboast of such thriving flocks and herds as his. But his wonderful good\nfortune did not make him proud, for, as he often said, he owed all his\nsuccess to Hildur the Fairy Queen.\n\n\n A CLERGYMAN\u2019S DAUGHTER MARRIED TO A FAIRY MAN.\n\nIn a certain district of Iceland, there lived a clergyman who had a\ndaughter in the early bloom of womanhood. One day, when the conversation\nturned on the subject of elves or fairies, the young woman happened to\nsay,\n\n\u201cI should like to be married to a fairy man, if he were only a brave\none.\u201d\n\nHer father was very angry at her words, and gave her a good scolding and\na box on the ear besides. Shortly afterwards, a child about the\nparsonage saw a man ride up to the door of the house, and then dismount.\nWatching his opportunity, the man stepped indoors, and soon reappeared,\nleading the clergyman\u2019s daughter by the hand. Before he could be\nprevented, he mounted on horseback and rode off with her. Her sorrowful\nparents searched for her throughout all the neighbouring country, but\nnowhere could she be found.\n\nIt is told, that three winters after this time, a shepherd who had been\nlong in the clergyman\u2019s service, and had loved his daughter dearly, one\nday lost his way and all the sheep. After wandering about for hours, he\nfound himself at the door of a farm house he had never before seen. The\nfarmer, a fine manly looking fellow, came out, and after listening to\nhis story offered him a bed for the night. He accepted the offer gladly,\nbut at the same time lamented over the loss of the sheep.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t bother yourself about them to-night,\u201d said the farmer, \u201cbe sure\nthey will turn up again;\u201d and with that he led him to a room up stairs.\nThere he saw an old man and woman, and two children who were playing on\nthe floor. But, besides these, he saw the clergyman\u2019s lost daughter who\nwas now the wife of the man who had asked him in.\n\nThe shepherd was entertained with the best that was in the house; and\nwhen bed-time came, was shown to a private sleeping room. The\nclergyman\u2019s daughter then went to him, and handing him a leather bag,\nasked him faithfully to deliver to her mother some valuables she had put\nin it. She also bade him tell her mother that though her husband was a\nfairy man, he did not hinder her from saying her prayers every night. On\nthe shepherd asking her if ever she went to church, she said she was\nthere just as often as himself, and that she always sat under the\npulpit, with her husband, beside the altar.\n\n\u201cHow does it come that nobody ever sees you in church?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, the reason is,\u201d she replied, \u201cthat we always leave the church\nbefore the blessing. But don\u2019t tell anybody what I have now mentioned.\nOnly deliver the leather bag to my mother; for if you blab what I\u2019ve\ntold you, be sure you will be an unfortunate man.\u201d\n\nHe gave her a promise of secrecy; on that, she left the room. On getting\nup in the morning, he was glad to learn that his lost sheep had turned\nup. The farmer, who had fed them on hay during the night, delivered them\nup to him, and put him on the right road. He got home with the sheep in\nsafety, and after a very short journey; but he never could tell which\nway he came. As for the promise of secrecy, he paid no attention to it;\nbut on the contrary gave a full and exact account of everything he had\nseen and heard.\n\nNow, the clergyman, who was anxious to find his daughter, bethought\nhimself of a plan, and that was, to pronounce the blessing before she\ncould have time to get out of church. So he went round among his\nparishioners, and told them not to be shocked if they should hear him\nthe next Sunday pronounce the blessing at an earlier stage of the\nservice than usual. When next Sunday came, his daughter occupied her\ncustomary seat, though not visible to any one in the church. In the\nmiddle of the service the clergyman stopped and pronounced the blessing.\nHis daughter, thus caught unawares, was obliged to discover herself. He\ndid what he could to induce her to stay, but all in vain.\n\n\u201cIf you try to force me,\u201d said she, \u201cthe consequences will be very\nserious; and besides, it would not be right in me to leave a husband who\nhas always treated me so kindly.\u201d\n\nOf the shepherd, it is told, that he was from that day unfortunate in\nall that he had to do with. But one cannot be sorry for him, as he\nbrought his troubles on his own head through his want of truthfulness.\n\n\n THE CLERGYMAN\u2019S DAUGHTER IN PRESTSBAKKI.\n\nIn Prestsbakki, in the Skapt\u00e1fells district, there once lived a\nclergyman, named Einar. He was well to do in the world, and had a\nnumerous family. No one cared less about fairy tales than he did. In\nfact, he used to speak of fairies as if there were no such beings. In\nhis idle moments he would tauntingly dare them to shew themselves to\nhim; and then, as they did not choose to obey his orders, he would boast\nthat there were no fairies to come.\n\nWell, on one night while asleep, he dreamed that a man came to his\nbedside and said to him,\n\n\u201cYou have provoked the fairies long, but now they will have their\nrevenge. From this time forward you shall not dare to deny their\nexistence. I will take away your eldest daughter, and you shall never\nsee her more.\u201d\n\nAnd sure enough, in the morning, when the clergyman awoke, he found that\nhis eldest daughter, who was twelve years of age, had disappeared.\nSearch was made for her in all directions, but nowhere could she be\nfound. As time passed on, she often made her appearance among her\nbrothers and sisters, while they were playing in the meadows. Again and\nagain, they tried to prevail on her to go home with them; but, just as\nshe seemed willing to do so, she always became invisible. When asked as\nto her welfare, she always said that she was in good health, and kindly\ntreated by her new friends. Her father frequently saw her in his dreams,\nand to him she told the same story, only adding that she was to be\nmarried, bye and bye, to the fairy clergyman\u2019s son. Some time after she\nappeared to her father again in a dream, and invited him to come to her\nmarriage, which was to take place on the following day. This was the\nlast time he ever dreamed about her, and never after did she show\nherself among her brothers and sisters.\n\n\n THE CHANGELING.\n\nIt was a common belief, in olden times, that the fairies often took away\ninfant children who happened to be left alone, and changed them for\ndecrepit old men or women who were made to appear as children. These\nchangelings, however, neither grew nor spoke after the manner of\nchildren, and were very apt to become idiots. It once happened that all\nthe people of a certain farm were working in the meadows, except the\nmistress of the house who was at home looking after the house and her\nlittle son, a boy three or four years old. Up to that time the boy had\nthriven amazingly. He could talk well, and was a clever promising child.\nAs there was no one to assist the mother with the household work, one\nday, she was obliged to leave the boy by himself for a short time, while\nshe went to wash the milk pails in a brook close by. On returning soon\nafter, she was surprised to find the boy, at the door, weeping and\nhowling in a strange uncouth way, very different from his wonted manner.\nUsually he was very quiet, gentle and obedient, but now she could not\nget a word out of him. Time passed on, but the child remained silent,\nrestless, and thoroughly untractable. His body ceased to grow, and his\nbehaviour was like that of an idiot. His mother could not account for\nthe strange change that had come over him. In the midst of her grief,\nshe at last bethought herself of going to take the advice of a neighbour\nwoman who was famous for her prudence and skill. The neighbour listened\nattentively to all she had to say about the boy, and then said to her,\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think, good wife, that the boy is a changeling? for, it seems\nto me, that the fairies must have taken away your own boy the day you\nleft him alone, and have put another in his place.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow could I find out, if what you say is true?\u201d said the surprised\nmother.\n\n\u201cOh, very easily, just go home, and take the first opportunity of\nleaving the boy alone beside something that is likely to call forth his\nsurprise. When his eye catches what you have put purposely in his way,\nif nobody is within sight, he is sure to make some remark about it to\nhimself. You must listen to what he says, and if you find anything\nstrange or suspicious about it, go in at once and flog him without\nmercy, till something comes out of it.\u201d\n\nThe boy\u2019s mother thanked her neighbour humbly for her advice, and went\naway home to put it into practice. The first thing she did on returning\nwas to place the little porridge pot in the middle of the kitchen floor.\nShe then bound a great many sticks together, so as to make a long rod,\nand fastened the spurtle to one of the ends. The rod was so big, that\nwhen the spurtle rested in the pot, the upper end was away up the\nchimney. Leaving it in this position, she went away and fetched the boy\nto the kitchen, and then left him all alone. On going out, she drew the\ndoor behind her; but not so closely as to prevent her from peeping in to\nsee what was going on.\n\nAs soon as the boy thought he was alone, he began to trip round the pot,\nwondering greatly what could be the meaning of the long spurtle. At last\nhe said, \u201cWell, old as I am, and I am no chicken now, as my grey beard\nand my eighteen children in Fairyland can testify, I never, in all my\nborn days, did see such a long spurtle for such a little porridge pot.\u201d\n\nThis was enough for the mother, who was not long of making her\nappearance in the kitchen with a good sized stick in her hand. Seizing\nhold of the changeling, she flogged him unmercifully for a long while,\nspite of his heart-rending cries.\n\nBye and bye a strange old woman walked in, holding on her arms a little\nboy whom she fondled kindly. Addressing the farmer\u2019s wife, she said,\n\u201cWhy should you treat my husband so cruelly. Your conduct is a sorry\nrecompense for the care I have bestowed on this little boy of yours.\u201d So\nsaying, she laid the little boy at his mother\u2019s feet, and took her\nhusband away with her.\n\nThe fairy man and woman were never more seen again. The now recovered\nboy remained with his parents, and grew up a fine manly youth, the joy\nof his mother\u2019s heart.[47]\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 42:\n\n S\u00e6mund Frodi, like other learned men of those days, was supposed to be\n in possession of magic powers. He was the Friar Bacon of Iceland; and\n these stories in which his name figures, handed down by tradition, are\n still often told in Iceland by the fireside on the long winter\n evenings. Curious to observe, that, in most medi\u00e6val stories of this\n kind, Satan is always outwitted and gets the worst of it. A.J.S.\n\nFootnote 43:\n\n This story may explain the origin of the Scotch proverb, \u201cDeil tak\u2019\n the hindmost.\u201d\u2014There is another version of S\u00e6mund\u2019s mode of escape;\n viz.: That when he was about to be seized, pointing to his shadow on\n the wall, he said, \u201cI am not the hindmost, don\u2019t you see him that is\n coming behind me!\u201d Old Nick then caught at the shadow, and thought it\n was a man; but S\u00e6mund got out, and the door was slammed on his heels.\n But after that time, it is added, S\u00e6mund was always without a shadow,\n for Old Nick would not let his shadow free again. Here, in this\n old-world story, we have the germ of Chamisso\u2019s \u201cShadowless Man.\u201d\n A.J.S.\n\nFootnote 44:\n\n The reader will here be reminded of Aladdin\u2019s Lamp, Genii, and of the\n East, from whence these Stories also originally came in the days of\n Odin.\n\nFootnote 45:\n\n To the right understanding of the story of \u201cBiarni Sveinsson,\u201d it must\n be remembered that a superstition prevailed amongst the Icelanders\n regarding the central deserts. These, they believed, were inhabited by\n a strange mysterious race of men who held no intercourse with the\n other inhabitants, and were said to be in the habit of kidnapping\n women from the country. This belief may have had its origin in the\n fact, that, in former days, some few outlaws and their families took\n refuge in the deserts, and lived there for a time in order to escape\n the hands of justice. A.J.S.\n\nFootnote 46:\n\n In Iceland vegetation is late.\n\nFootnote 47:\n\n These popular northern fireside stories and tales are partly gathered\n from direct oral narration, and partly taken from a small volume,\n \u201cIslenzk \u00c6fintyri,\u201d the collection of Messrs. M. Grimson and J.\n Arnason, published in Icelandic, at Reykjavik, in 1852.\n\n\n II.\n\n SPECIMENS OF ICELANDIC POEMS.\n\n --------------\n\n\n FROM THE \u201cV\u00d6LUSP\u00c1\u201d\n\nIn the \u201cV\u00f6lusp\u00e1,\u201d[48] from the older Edda, we have a sublime description\nof chaos; of creation; an account of a period of strife, crime, and\nsuffering; dire conflicts between the powers of good and evil; of the\ndestruction of the world of Odin and the dissolution and conflagration\nof the universe; of the Regnar\u00f6k or twilight of the Gods; of the\nrenovated world, the descent of Baldur the Good, the punishment of the\nwicked, and the happiness of the good in Giml\u00e9 or Heaven. From this\npoem\u2014the most remarkable in the whole range of Scandinavian\nmytho-cosmogony\u2014the following verses are extracted:\n\n \u201cIt was time\u2019s morning\n When Ymer lived.\n There was no sand, no sea;\n No cooling billows;\n Earth there was none,\n No lofty heaven;\n Only the Gulph of Ginunga,\n But no grass.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n The sun knew not\n Where was his dwelling;\n The stars knew not\n That they had a firmament;\n The moon knew not\n What powers she possessed.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n The tree Yggdrasil\n Bears a sorer burden\n Than men know of.\n Above the stags bite it;\n On its sides age rots it;\n Nigh\u00f6gg gnaws below.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n There saw she wade\n In the heavy streams\n Men\u2014foul perjurers,\n And murderers.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Brothers slay brothers:\n Sisters\u2019 children\n Shed each other\u2019s blood.\n Hard is the world;\n Sensual sin grows huge.\n There are sword-ages, axe-ages,\n Earth-cleaving cold;\n Storm-ages, murder-ages,\n Till the world falls dead,\n And men no longer spare\n Or pity one another.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Mimer\u2019s sons play,\n But the world is kindled\n By the ancient\n Gjallarhorn.\n Loud blows Heimdall,\n His sound is in the air:\n Odin talks\n With the head of Mimer.\n\n Quivers then Yggdrasil,\n The strong-rooted ash:\n Rustles the old tree\n When J\u00f6tun gives way.\n All things tremble\n In the realms of Hel,\n Till Surtur\u2019s son\n Swallows up Odin.\n\n Garmer he shouts\n By the Gnipa-hall\n The band must burst\n And the wolf fly.\n\n Hrymer drives eastward,\n Bears his shield before him;\n Jormungand welters\n In giant fierceness.\n The waves thunder;\n The eagles scream;\n Death rends the corpses\n And Nagelfar gives way.\n\n K\u00f6l hies eastward;\n Come must Muspel\u2019s\n Folk to the sea.\n Loke rows afar;\n All the children of madness\n Follow the wolf,\n Bileist\u2019s brother\n Journeyeth with them.\n\n Surtur fares southward.\n With flickering flames\n From his sword\n God\u2019s sun flashes.\n Break the stone mountains;\n The weird women flee,\n Men throng Hel\u2019s dread roads,\n And Heaven is rent.\u201d\n\nThen Surtur flings fire over the world.\n\n \u201cThe sun grows dark.\n Earth sinks in the sea.\n From heaven vanish\n The lustrous stars.\n High from the flames\n Rolls the reek;\n High play the fires\n \u2019Gainst heaven itself.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Up, sees she come\n Yet once more,\n The earth from the sea,\n Gloriously green.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Then comes the Mighty One\n To the great Judgment\u2014\n The great above all\u2014\n He who guides all things.\n Judgments he utters;\n Strifes he appeaseth;\n Laws He ordaineth\n To flourish for ever.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n In Giml\u00e9 the lofty\n There shall the hosts\n Of the virtuous dwell,\n And through all ages\n Taste of deep gladness.\u201d\n\n\n FROM THE \u201cS\u00d3LAR LJ\u00d3D\u201d\n\nThe \u201cS\u00f3lar Lj\u00f3d\u201d\u2014\u201cSol\u201d or \u201cSun-song\u201d\u2014was composed by S\u00e6mund himself, the\ncollector of the Edda, and a Christian priest, ages before the time of\nDante.\n\n \u201cBy the Nornors\u2019 seat\n Nine days I sate,\n Then to horse was lifted.\n The sun of the giant race\n Gleamed sadly\n Out of heaven\u2019s weeping clouds.\n\n Without and within\n Seemed I to journey\n Through the seven worlds\n Above and below.\n Better path I sought\n Than there was to find.\n\n And now to be told is\n What first I beheld\n In the home of torture.\n Scorched birds were flying\u2014\n Wretched souls in myriads,\n Thick as mosquito legions.\n\n Flying saw I\n Hope\u2019s dragons\n And fall in drear waste places.\n They shook their wings\n Till to me seemed that\n Heaven and earth were rent.\n\n The stag of the sun\n Southward saw I journey.\n His feet stood\n On earth, but his huge antlers\n Traversed the heavens above him.\n\n Northward saw I ride\n The sons of the races;\n Seven they were together.\n From the full horn they drank\n The purest mead\n From wells of heavenly strength.\n\n The winds stood still,\n The waters ceased to flow.\n Then heard I a dread cry.\n There for their husbands\n False vengeful women\n Ground earth for food.\n\n Bloody stones\n Those women dark\n Dragged sorrowfully,\n Their gory hearts\n Hung from their breasts\n Weighed with heavy weights.\n\n Many men\n Along the burning ways\n Sore wounded saw I go.\n Their visages\n Seemed deeply dyed\n With blood in murder shed.\n\n Many men\n Saw I amongst the dead\n Without one hope of grace.\n Pagan stars there stood\n Over their heads\n All scored with cruel runes.\n\n Men saw I too\n Who enviously had scowled\n Upon the good of others.\n Bloody runes\n Were on their breasts\n Ploughed out by hands of men.\n\n Men saw I there\n All full of woe,\n All mazed in wondering.\n This do they win\n Who to eternal loss\n Love this world only.\n\n Men saw I too\n Who sought always to snatch\n From others their possessions.\n In throngs they were,\n And to the miser\u2019s hell\n Bore groaning loads of lead.\n\n Men saw I next\n Who many had bereaved\n Of life and goods,\n And through the hearts of these\n For ever fiercely ran\n Strong venom snakes.\n\n Men too I saw\n Who never would observe\n Sabbaths and holy days.\n Their unblessed hands\n Fast rivetted together\n With ever burning stones.\n\n Men too I saw\n Who with huge brag and boast\n On earth did vaunt themselves.\n Here their clothes\n Were vilely squalid\n And with fire enwrapt.\n\n Men saw I too\n Who with their slanderous breath\n Had blasted others.\n Hel\u2019s ravens\n Remorselessly their eyes\n Tore from their heads.\n\n But all the horrors\n Thou canst not know\n Which Hel\u2019s condemned endure.\n Sweet sins\n There bitterly are punished,\n False pleasures reap true pain.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Men did I see\n Who the Lord\u2019s laws\n Had followed stanchly.\n Purest light\n For ever growing clearer\n Passed brightly o\u2019er their heads.\n\n Men did I see\n Who with unwearied zeal\n Did seek the good of others.\n Angels read\n The holy books\n Upon their radiant heads.\n\n Men did I see\n Who with sharp fasts\n Their bodies had subdued;\n God\u2019s holy hosts\n Before them all bow\u2019d down\n And paid them highest homage.\n\n Men did I see\n Who had their mothers\n Piously cherished,\n And their place of rest\n Amid heaven\u2019s beams\n Shone gloriously.\n\n Holy maids there were\n Who their pure souls\n Had kept unsoiled by sin,\n And souls of those\n Who their rebellious flesh\n Did ever sternly quail.\n\n Lofty chariots saw I\n Travel through heaven\n Having access to God;\n And they were filled with those\n Who causelessly\n Had on the earth been slain.\n\n Father Almighty!\n Illustrious Son!\n And Holy Spirit of Heaven.\n Thee do I implore,\n Who didst make all things,\n To keep us from all sin!\u201d\n\nS\u00e6mund concludes this remarkable poem with these strophes:\n\n \u201cThis song\n Which I have taught thee\n Thou shalt sing unto the living.\n The Sun\u2019s song,\n Which in its solemn theme\n Hath little that is feigned.\n\n Here do we part,\n But part again to meet\n On the Great Day of men.\n Oh, my Lord!\n Give the dead rest,\n Comfort to those who live!\n\n Wonderful wisdom,\n To thee in dream is sung,\n \u2019Tis truth which thou hast seen!\n And no man is so wise\n Of all who are created\n As, ere this, to have heard\n One word of this Sun\u2019s Song!\u201d\n\n\n FROM THE POEMS RELATING TO SIGURD & BRYNHILD.\n\nFrom the heroic poems relating to Sigurd and Brynhild\u2014the originals from\nwhich the German \u201cNiebelungen-lied\u201d is taken\u2014the following passage is\nextracted. In it Gudrun, in conversation with Thjodreck, describes her\nyouth before the murder of Sigurd: \u201cA maid was I amongst maidens; my\nmother reared me lovely in bower. Well loved I my brothers, till me\nGjuk\u00e9 apportioned with gold, with gold apportioned and gave me to\nSigurd. So raised himself, Sigurd, over the sons of Gjuk\u00e9, as the green\nlily above the grass grows; or the high-antlered stag, above other\nbeasts; or the fire-red gold above the silver grey. My brothers were\nincensed that I should have a husband more illustrious than any. Sleep\nthey could not, nor decide on anything, before they Sigurd had caused to\nperish. Grang\u00e9 (Sigurd\u2019s steed) galloped to the _Ting_ (assembly of the\npeople), wild was his neighing, but Sigurd himself was not there. All\nthe horses were covered with sweat, and with blood of the contenders.\n\n\u201cWeeping I went to speak to Gran\u00e9, the blood sprinkled; of his master I\nasked him; then hung down Gran\u00e9 mournfully his head, for the creature\nknew that his lord was not living. Long did I wander, long was I\nconfused in mind before of the Prince I could ask after my King.\u201d\n\nThe \u201cH\u00e1vam\u00e1l\u201d\u2014\u201cOdin\u2019s High Song\u201d\u2014displays a shrewd insight into human\nnature, and contains many maxims, both of a moral and social kind, which\none would scarcely expect to find embodied in the heathen ethics of an\nancient Scandinavian Scald. The whole poem is here presented to the\nreader.\n\n\n H\u00c1VAM\u00c1L.\n\n\n I.\n\n\n \u201cIn every corner\n Carefully look thou\n Ere forth thou goest;\n For insecure\n Is the house when an enemy\n Sitteth therein.\n\n II.\n\n Hail him who giveth!\n Enters a guest.\n Where shall he be seated?\n Yet, ill shall fare he\n Who seeks his welfare\n In other men\u2019s houses.\n\n III.\n\n Fire will be needful\n For him who enters\n With his knees frozen.\n Of meat and clothing\n Stands he in need\n Who journeys o\u2019er mountains.\n\n IV.\n\n Water is needful,\n A towel and kindness\n For this guest\u2019s welcome;\n Kind inclinations\n Let him experience;\n Answer his questions.\n\n V.\n\n Good sense is needful\n To the far traveller;\n Each place seems home to him.\n He is a laughing-stock\n Who, knowing nothing,\n Sits mid the wise.\n\n VI.\n\n With the deep thinker\n Speak thou but little;\n But guard well thy temper;\n When the noble and silent\n Come to thy dwelling,\n Least errs the cautious.\n\n VII.\n\n Good sense is needful\n To the far traveller;\n Least errs the cautious;\n For a friend trustier\n Than good understanding\n Findeth man never.\n\n VIII.\n\n A cautious guest\n When he comes to his hostel\n Speaketh but little;\n With his ears he listeneth;\n With his eyes he looketh;\n Thus the wise learneth.\n\n IX.\n\n Happy is he\n Who for himself winneth\n Honour and friends.\n All is uncertain,\n Which a man holdeth\n In the heart of another.\n\n X.\n\n Happy is he\n Who prudent guidance\n From himself winneth;\n For evil counsel\n Man oft receiveth\n From the breast of another.\n\n XI.\n\n No better burden\n Bears a man on his journey\n Than mickle wisdom.\n Better is she than gold\n Where he is a stranger;\n In need she is a helper.\n\n XII.\n\n No better burden\n Bears a man on his journey\n Than mickle wisdom.\n No worse provision\n Takes a man on his journey\n Than frequent drunkenness.\n\n XIII.\n\n Ale is not so good\n As people have boasted\n For the children of men.\n For less and still less,\n As more he drinketh,\n Knows man himself.\n\n XIV.\n\n The hern of forgetfulness\n Sits on the drunkard,\n And steals the man\u2019s senses.\n By the bird\u2019s pinions,\n Fettered I lay,\n In Gunlada\u2019s dwelling.\n\n XV.\n\n Drunken I lay,\n Lay thoroughly drunken,\n With Fjalar the wise.\n This is the best of drink,\n That every one afterwards\n Comes to his senses.\n\n XVI.\n\n Be silent and diligent,\n Son of a Prince,\n And daring in combat;\n Cheerful and generous,\n Let every man be,\n Till death approaches.\n\n XVII.\n\n A foolish man fancies\n He shall live for ever\n If he shuns combat.\n But old age will give\n To him no quarter,\n Although the spear may.\n\n XVIII.\n\n The fool stares about\n When he goes on a visit,\n Talks nonsense or slumbers.\n All goes well\n When he can drink,\n For then the man speaks his mind.\n\n XIX.\n\n He, he only\n Who has far travelled,\n Has far and wide travelled,\n Knoweth every\n Temper of man,\n If he himself is wise.\n\n XX.\n\n If cups thou lackest\n Yet drink thou by measure:\n Speak what is seemly or be still.\n No one will charge thee\n With evil, if early\n Thou goest to slumber.\n\n XXI.\n\n The gluttonous man,\n Though he may not know it,\n Eats his life\u2019s sorrow:\n Lust of drink, often\n Makes the fool, foolish\n When he comes mid the prudent.\n\n XXII.\n\n The flocks they have knowledge\n When to turn homeward\n And leave the green pastures;\n But he who is foolish\n Knoweth no measure,\n No bounds to his craving.\n\n XXIII.\n\n An evil man\n And a carping temper\n Jeer at all things.\n He knows not;\n He ought to know,\n That himself is not faultless.\n\n XXIV.\n\n A foolish man\n Lies awake the night through\n And resolves on many things.\n Thus is he weary\n When the day cometh;\n The old care remaineth.\n\n XXV.\n\n A foolish man\n Thinks all are friendly\n Who meet him with smiles;\n But few he findeth\n Who will aid his cause,\n When to the Ting he cometh.\n\n XXVI.\n\n A foolish man\n Thinks all are friendly\n Who meet him with smiles.\n Nor knows he the difference\n Though they laugh him to scorn\n When he sits \u2019mong the knowing ones.\n\n XXVII.\n\n A foolish man\n Thinks he knows everything\n While he needs not the knowledge.\n But he knows not\n How to make answer\n When he is questioned.\n\n XXVIII.\n\n A foolish man,\n When he comes into company\n Had better keep silence.\n No one remarketh\n How little he knows\n Till he begins talking.\n\n XXIX.\n\n He appears wise\n Who can ask questions\n And give replies.\n Ever conceal then\n The failings of others,\n The children of men.\n\n XXX.\n\n Who cannot keep silence\n Uttereth many\n A word without purport.\n The tongue of the garrulous,\n Which keepeth back nothing,\n Talks its own mischief.\n\n XXXI.\n\n Hold in derision\n No one, although he\n Come as a stranger.\n Many a one, when he has had\n Rest and dry clothing,\n Thou mayest find to be wise.\n\n XXXII.\n\n He seemeth wise\n Who in speech triumphs\n O\u2019er mocking guests.\n The talkative man\n Knows not at the table\n If he talks with his enemies.\n\n XXXIII.\n\n Many are friendly\n One to another;\n Yet storm ariseth.\n Strife will arise\n For ever, if one guest\n Affronteth another.\n\n XXXIV.\n\n Thou mayst dine early\n Unless thou art going\n Unto the banquet.\n Sits he and flatters;\n Hungry he seemeth,\n Yet few things he learneth.\n\n XXXV.\n\n Long is the journey\n To a deceitful friend\n Though he dwell near thee.\n But, direct lies the path\n To a friend faithful,\n Though he dwelleth afar off.\n\n XXXVI.\n\n Do not too frequently\n Unto the same place\n Go as a guest.\n Sweet becomes sour\n When a man often sits\n At other men\u2019s tables.\n\n XXXVII.\n\n One good house is there\n Though it be humble:\n Each man is master at home.\n Though a man own but\n Two goats and a straw-rick,\n \u2019Tis better than begging.\n\n XXXVIII.\n\n One good house is there\n Though it be humble:\n Each man is master at home.\n The man\u2019s heart bleedeth\n At every mealtime\n Who his food beggeth.\n\n XXXIX.\n\n Without his weapon\n Goes no man\n A-foot in the field.\n For it is unsafe\n Out on the by-paths\n When weapons are needful.\n\n XL.\n\n Never found I so generous,\n So hospitable a man\n As to be above taking gifts.\n Nor one of his money\n So little regardful\n But that it vexed him to lend.\n\n XLI.\n\n He who has laid up\n Treasures of wealth\n Finds want hard to bear.\n Adversity often uses\n What was meant for prosperity,\n For many things are contrary to expectation.\n\n XLII.\n\n With weapons and garments,\n As best may be fitting\n Give thou thy friends pleasure.\n By gifts interchanged\n Is friendship made surest;\n If the heart proffers them.\n\n XLIII.\n\n Let a man towards his friend,\n Ever be friendly,\n And with gifts make return for gifts.\n With thy cheerful friend\n Be thou cheerful;\n With thy guileful friend on thy guard.\n\n XLIV.\n\n Let a man towards his friend\n Ever be friendly;\n Towards him and his friend.\n But with an enemy\u2019s friend\n Can no man\n Be friendly.\n\n XLV.\n\n If thou hast a friend\n Whom thou canst confide in\n And wouldst have joy of his friendship,\n Then, mingle thy thoughts with his,\n Give gifts freely,\n And often be with him.\n\n XLVI.\n\n If thou hast another,\n Whom thou hast no faith in\n Yet wouldst have joy of his friendship,\n Thou must speak smoothly;\n Thou must think warily,\n And with cunning pay back his guile.\n\n XLVII.\n\n Yet one word\n About him thou mistrusteth\n And in whom thou hast no reliance.\n Thou must speak mildly,\n More so than thou meanest;\n Paying back like with like.\n\n XLVIII.\n\n Young was I formerly;\n Then alone went I,\n Taking wrong ways.\n Rich seemed I to myself\n When I found a companion;\n For man is man\u2019s pleasure.\n\n XLIX.\n\n The noble, the gentle\n Live happiest,\n And seldom meet sorrow.\n But the foolish man,\n He is suspicious,\n And a niggard grieves to give.\n\n L.\n\n I hung my garments\n On the two wooden men\n Who stand on the wall.\n Heroes they seemed to be\n When they were clothed!\n The unclad are despised.\n\n LI.\n\n The tree withereth\n Which stands in the court-yard\n Without shelter of bark or of leaf.\n So is a man\n Destitute of friends.\n Why should he still live on?\n\n LII.\n\n Even as fire,\n Burns peace between enemies,\n For the space of five days.\n But on the seventh\n It is extinguished,\n And the less is their friendship.\n\n LIII.\n\n Only a little\n Will a man give;\n He often gets praise for a little.\n With half a loaf\n And a full bottle\n I won a companion.\n\n LIV.\n\n Small are the sand-grains,\n Small are the water-drops:\n Small human thoughts:\n Yet are not these\n Each of them equal.\n Every century bears but one man.\n\n LV.\n\n Good understanding\n Ought all to possess,\u2014\n But not too much wisdom.\n Those human beings\n Whose lives are the brightest,\n Know much and know it well.\n\n LVI.\n\n Good understanding\n Ought all to possess,\n But not too much knowledge.\n For the heart of a wise man\n Seldom is gladdened\n By knowledge of all things.\n\n LVII.\n\n Good understanding\n Ought all to possess,\n But not too much knowledge.\n Let no one beforehand\n Inquire his own fortune.\n The gladdest heart knoweth it not.\n\n LVIII.\n\n Brand with brand burneth\n Till it is burned out:\n Fire is kindled by fire.\n A man among men\n Is known by his speech;\n A fool by his arrogance.\n\n LIX.\n\n Betimes must he rise\n Who another man\u2019s life\n And goods will obtain.\n The sleeping wolf\n Seldom gets bones.\n No sluggard wins battle.\n\n LX.\n\n Betimes must he rise\n And look after his people\n Who has but few workmen.\n Much he neglecteth\n Who sleeps in the morning.\n On the master\u2019s presence depends half the profit.\n\n LXI.\n\n Like to dried faggots,\n And hoarded up birch bark,\n Are the thoughts of a man,\n The substance of firewood\n May last, it is true,\n A year and a day.\n\n LXII.\n\n Cleanly and decent,\n Ride men to the Ting\n Although unadorned.\n For his shoes and apparel\n Nobody blushes,\n Nor yet for his horse, though none of the best.\n\n LXIII.\n\n Question and answer\n Is a clever thing,\n And so it is reckoned.\n To one person trust thyself,\n Not to a second.\n The world knows what is known unto three.\n\n LXIV.\n\n Bewilderedly gazes\n On the wild sea, the eagle,\n When he reaches the strand.\n So is it with the man\n Who in a crowd standeth\n When he has but few friends there.\n\n LXV.\n\n Every wise man\n And prudent, his power will use\n With moderation.\n For he will find\n When he comes \u2019mong the brave\n That none can do all things.\n\n LXVI.\n\n Let every man\n Be prudent and circumspect\n And cautious in friendship.\n Often that word\n Which we trust to another\n Very dear costs us.\n\n LXVII.\n\n Greatly too early\n Came I to some places;\n Too late to others.\n Here the feast was over;\n There unprepared.\n Seldom opportunely comes an unwelcome guest.\n\n LXVIII.\n\n Here and everywhere\n Have I been bidden\n If I fell short of a dinner.\n But the fragments are easily\n Left for his faithful friend\n When a man has eaten.\n\n LXIX.\n\n Fire is pleasant\n To the children of men.\n And the light of the sun,\n If they enjoy\n Health uninterrupted,\n And live without crime.\n\n LXX.\n\n Perfectly wretched\n Is no man, though he may be unhappy:\n One is blessed in his sons;\n One in his friends;\n By competence one;\n By good works another.\n\n LXXI.\n\n Better are they\n Who live than they who are dead.\n The living man may gain a cow.\n I saw the fire blazing\n In the hall of the rich man,\n But death stood at the threshold.\n\n LXXII.\n\n The lame may ride;\n The deaf fight bravely;\n The one-handed tend the flocks,\n Better be blind\n Than entombed:\n The dead win nothing.\n\n LXXIII.\n\n It is good to have a son\n Although he be born\n After his father\u2019s death.\n Seldom are the cairn-stones\n Raised by the way-side\n Save by the son to his father.\n\n LXXIV.\n\n There are two adversaries;\n The heaviness of the brain,\n And death by the bedside.\n He who has gold for his journey\n Rejoices at night\n When he grows weary.\n\n LXXV.\n\n Short are the boat-oars;\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n Unstable autumnal nights.\n The weather changes\n Much in five days;\n Still more in a month.\n\n LXXVI.\n\n Little enough knows he\n Who nothing knows:\n Many a man is fooled by another.\n One man is rich,\n Another man is poor;\n But that proves not which has most wisdom.\n\n LXXVII.\n\n Thy flocks may die;\n Thy friends may die;\n So also mayest thou, thyself;\n But never will die\n The fame of him\n Who wins for himself good renown.\n\n LXXVIII.\n\n Thy flocks may die;\n Thy friends may die;\n So also mayst thou thyself.\n But one thing I know\n Which never dies,\n The doom which is passed on the dead.\n\n LXXIX.\n\n I saw the well-filled barns\n Of the child of wealth;\n Now leans he on the staff of the beggar.\n Thus are riches,\n As the glance of an eye,\n They are an inconstant friend.\n\n LXXX.\n\n A foolish man,\n If he gain wealth\n Or the favour of woman,\n Grows in self-esteem,\n Though he understands nothing:\n Forth goes he in arrogance.\n\n LXXXI.\n\n Know thou, that when\n Thou enquirest of the runes,\n Known to the world,\n What the holy Gods did,\n What the great Scalds have written,\n It is best for thee to be still.\n\n LXXXII.\n\n Praise the day at eventide;\n The wife when she is dead;\n The sword when thou hast proved it;\n The maid when she is married;\n Ice when thou hast crossed it;\n Ale when thou hast drunken it.\n\n LXXXIII.\n\n In wind cut thou firewood;\n In wind sail the ocean;\n In darkness woo a maiden,\n For many eyes has daylight.\n In a ship man voyages;\n The shield it defends him;\n The sword is for slaughter,\n But the maid to be courted.\n\n LXXXIV.\n\n Drink ale by firelight;\n On the ice drive the sledge;\n Sell thou the lean horse\n And the sword that is rusty;\n Feed the horse at home;\n Bed the dog in the court-yard.\n\n LXXXV.\n\n The word of a maiden\n No one can trust;\n Nor what a woman speaketh;\n For on a turning wheel\n Was the heart of woman formed,\n And guile was laid in her breast.\n\n LXXXVI.\n\n A breaking bow;\n A burning flame;\n A hungry wolf;\n A chattering crow;\n The grunting swine;\n The rootless tree;\n The heaving billows;\n The boiling kettle;\n\n LXXXVII.\n\n The flying spear;\n Sinking waters;\n One night\u2019s ice;\n The coiled-up snake;\n The bride\u2019s fond talk;\n Or the broken sword;\n A bear\u2019s play;\n Or a king\u2019s son;\n\n LXXXVIII.\n\n A sick calf;\n A freed bondsman;\n A false fortune-teller;\n The newly-slain on the field;\n A bright sky;\n A smiling master;\n The cry of a dog;\n A harlot\u2019s sorrow;\n\n LXXXIX.\n\n An early sown field\n Let no one trust,\n Neither his son too soon;\n The field depends on the weather;\n The youth on his sense,\n And both are uncertain.\n\n XC.\n\n A brother\u2019s death,\n Though it be half-way here;\n A half-burned house;\n A steed very lively,\n (For a horse has no value,\n If one foot stumble),\n Are not so sure\n That a man may trust to them.\n\n XCI.\n\n Thus is peace among women;\n Like a fleeting thought;\n Like a journey over slippery ice,\n On a two-years-old horse\n With unroughed shoes,\n And ill broken in;\n Or in wild tempests\n Tossed in a helmless ship;\n Or trying to capture\n Deer mid the thawing snow of the hills.\n\n XCII.\n\n Now speak I truly,\n For I know what I speak of,\n Deceitful to woman is the promise of love:\n When we speak fairest,\n Then mean we foulest;\n The purest heart may be beguiled.\n\n XCIII.\n\n He speaketh smoothly\n Who would win the maiden;\n He offers property,\n And praises the beauty\n Of the fair maiden;\n He wins who is in earnest.\n\n XCIV.\n\n The love of another\n Let no man\n Find fault with.\n Beautiful colours\n Oft charm the wise,\n While they snare not the fool.\n\n XCV.\n\n For that failing\n Which is common to many\n No man is blamed.\n From the wise man to the fool,\n \u2019Mong all children of men,\n Goes he, Love, the mighty one.\n\n XCVI.\n\n Thought alone knoweth\n What the heart cherisheth,\n It alone knows the mind.\n No disease is worse\n For the wise man\n Than joy in nothing.\n\n XCVII.\n\n This I experienced\n When I sate mid the rushes\n Awaiting my love.\n The good maiden\n Was to me life and heart;\n Mine is she no longer.\n\n XCVIII.\n\n The maid of Billing\n White as snow found I,\n In her bed sleeping.\n Princely glory\n Was to me nothing\n If I lived not with her!\n\n XCIX.\n\n \u201cTo the court, Odin,\n Come towards the eventide\n If thou wilt woo me\n All will be ruined\n If we do not in private\n Know how to manage.\u201d\n\n C.\n\n Thither I sped again;\n Happy I thought myself,\n More so than I knew of,\n For I believed\n I had half won her favour\n And the whole of her thoughts.\n\n CI.\n\n So again came I,\n When the quarrelsome people\n All were awake.\n With candles burning\n And piled-up firewood\n Received she my visit.\n\n CII.\n\n A few morrows after,\n When again I went thither,\n All the house-folk were sleeping.\n There found I a dog,\n Of the fair maiden\u2019s\n Bound on the bed.\n\n CIII.\n\n Few are so noble\n But that their fancy\n May undergo change.\n Many a good girl\n When she is well known\n Is deceitful towards men.\n\n CIV.\n\n That I experienced\n When the quick-witted maiden\n I decoyed into danger.\n She heaped reproach on me,\n The merry maiden,\n And I won her never.\n\n CV.\n\n Gay at home\n And liberal, must\n Be the man of wisdom.\n Full of talk and pleasant memories\n Will he be ofttimes,\n With much cheerful converse.\n\n CVI.\n\n He is called Fimbulfambi\n Who but few things can utter;\n \u2019Tis the way of the simple.\n I was with the old giants,\n Now am I returned;\n There was I not silent,\n With affluence of speech\n I strove to do my best\n In the hall of Suttung.\n\n CVII.\n\n Gunl\u00f6d gave me,\n On a golden chair seated,\n A draught of mead delicious;\n But the return was evil\n Which she from me experienced,\n With all her faithfulness,\n With all her deep love.\n\n CVIII.\n\n I let words of anger\n By me be spoken,\n And knawed the rock.\n Above and below me\n Went the paths of the giants;\n Thus ventured I life.\n\n CIX.\n\n Dear-bought song\n Have I much rejoiced in;\n All succeeds to the will;\n Because the Odrejrer\n Now have ascended\n To the old, holy earth.\n\n CX.\n\n Uncertain seems it\n If I had escaped\n From the courts of the giants\n Had I not been blessed by\n The dear love of Gunl\u00f6d,\n She, whom I embraced.\n\n CXI.\n\n On the day following\n Went the Rimthursar\n To ask the gods council,\n In the halls lofty;\n Ask whether B\u00f6lverk were\n Come mid the mighty gods,\n Or if Suttung had slain him.\n\n CXII.\n\n A holy ring-oath\n I mind me, gave Odin.\n Now who can trust him.\n Suttung is cheated;\n His mead has been stolen\n And Gunl\u00f6d is weeping.\u201d[49]\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 48:\n\n V\u00f6lu-sp\u00e1 or spae, the Prophesy\u2014wisdom, oracle, or mystic song\u2014of V\u00f6lu\n (V\u00f6lu is the genitive of Vala). Scotic\u00ea, Vala\u2019s spae, as in the word\n _spae_-wife. One of these Valor, or Northern sybills, whom Odin\n consulted in Neifelhem, when found in the tomb where she had lain for\n ages, is represented as saying\u2014\n\n \u201cI was snowed over with snows,\n And beaten with rains,\n And drenched with the dews;\n Dead have I long been.\u201d\n\nFootnote 49:\n\n These specimens of old Icelandic poetry are selected from \u201cThe\n Literature and Romance of Northern Europe,\u201d by William and Mary\n Howitt: 2 vols. 8vo., Colburn & Co., 1852.\n\n\n III.\n\n POEMS ON NORTHERN SUBJECTS.\n\n --------------\n\n\n LAY OF THE VIKINGS.\n\n BY MRS. ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON.[50]\n\n In an unceasing, ebbless flow, around\n The peaceful homes of Thul\u00e9, her best safety\n Roll Arctic billows, rearing giant crests\n In proud defiance\u2014bulwarks impassable\n Against the intruder\u2019s steps. Fiercely and bold,\n Even as a lioness doth guard her \u2019fenceless young,\n Do they, the unconquerable surges, foam and champ,\n And keep unslumbering vigils round the graves\u2014\n The restless, storm-rocked graves\u2014of the Vikings\n Their sons\u2014those tameless spirits of the past\u2014\n Whose dirge their sighing parent hourly waileth\n As erst they rode exultant on his bosom.\n Boldest and noblest of earth\u2019s kind were ye\u2014\n Conquerors of nations\u2014fathers of a race\n Of giant princes\u2014ah! how fallen now!\n Meet were it that your honoured dust should slumber\n In this your polar cradle; rocked by northern gales,\n Lulled by the sighing surges whose strong hands\n Have hung a cloudy curtain o\u2019er your rest.\n Meet were it that the springtide rain should weep\n O\u2019er the degeneracy of your race\u2014\n The scattered glory of your Fatherland!\n Fitting were it that the dark thunder-cloud\n Should be the swift-winged chariot upon which\n Your spirits love to ride\u2014your path meanwhile\n Lit by the fitful rays of yonder cold\n Mysterious, flickering night-lamp, _Borealis_.\n Nought less sublime, less wildly grand than these\n Would be in harmony with your proud spirits.\n Would ye not laugh to scorn the spicy breezes\n Of India\u2019s drowsy clime, or soft Italia\u2019s\n Radiant skies?\u2014and ah! methinks ye whisper,\n Were but the ocean charmed, that he should cease\n His mournful lullaby around your pillow;\n Or did old Winter\u2019s gales less rudely blow,\n _Ye_ then would rise in vapoury clouds, and leave\n A land unworthy even to be your tomb.\n\n --------------\n\n\n V\u00cdK\u00cdNGA BRAGUR.[51]\n\n \u00d3\u00f0fluga hra\u00f0ar\n \u00d6ldur streyma\n \u00cdshafs hins nyr\u00f0ra,\n Og \u00f6flugust v\u00edgi\n Byggja um kyrrar\n Bygg\u00f0ir Th\u00falu.\n Hamramar \u00e6\n \u00de\u00e6r hreykja kollum,\n Og \u00f6ruggar varnir\n M\u00f3t \u00e1r\u00e1sarm\u00f6nnum\n B\u00faa, \u00fe\u00e6r aldrei\n Bila kunna.\n Sem vakir lj\u00f3nsinna\n Varnarlausum\n Ungum yfir\n Me\u00f0 afarm\u00f3\u00f0i,\n Frey\u00f0a svo \u00f6ldur\n \u00d3sigrandi\n Halda \u00fe\u00e6r v\u00f6r\u00f0\n Um V\u00edkinga lei\u00f0i;\n \u00dev\u00ed blunda \u00ed klettum\n Brimi skelfdum\n Har\u00f0\u00fa\u00f0gir ni\u00f0jar\n Fr\u00e1 horfnum d\u00f6gum;\n F\u00e9kk \u00feeim ei hugur\n \u00cd brj\u00f3sti bila\u00f0;\n Harmar \u00fev\u00ed m\u00f3\u00f0er\n Og hrygg\u00f0ar saungva\n Aldrei f\u00e6r sliti\u00f0,\n Er h\u00fan minnist\n \u00deeirra, er \u00e1\u00f0ur\n Ungir l\u00e9ku\n Megingla\u00f0ir\n \u00c1 m\u00f3\u00f0urbrj\u00f3sti.\n Leit ei nokkur\n Af ni\u00f0jum jar\u00f0ar\n A\u00f0ra tignari\n E\u00f0ur kn\u00e1rri\n Y\u00f0ur, sem \u00fej\u00f3\u00f0ir\n Unnu\u00f0 sver\u00f0um,\n Fe\u00f0ur j\u00f6tna,\n Er f\u00f3lki styr\u00f0u.\n Horrfinn er hei\u00f0ur,\n En hei\u00f0ra\u00f0ar moldir\n N\u00e1\u00f0u hv\u00edld h\u00e6fri\n Und nor\u00f0urheimsskauti;\n \u00cd v\u00f6ggu \u00feeim velta\n Vindar str\u00ed\u00f0ir;\n V\u00f6ggulj\u00f3\u00f0 kve\u00f0a\n Veinandi unnir,\n \u00de\u00e6r er me\u00f0 mundum\n Meginstyrkvum\n L\u00f6g\u00f0u sk\u00fdbl\u00e6ur\n \u00c1 lei\u00f0i ni\u00f0ja.\n Var \u00fea\u00f0 a\u00f0 ver\u00f0\u00fang,\n Er varandi unnir\n Y\u00f0ar \u00e6 gr\u00e1ta\n \u00c6ttar hnignun,\n Og frama horfinn\n F\u00f3sturjar\u00f0ar.\n \u00dea\u00f0 og vel h\u00e6f\u00f0i,\n Er \u00ferumusk\u00fdin,\n Vagnar \u00feau ur\u00f0u\n V\u00e6ngjum b\u00fanir,\n Y\u00f0ar sem aka\n Andar gla\u00f0ir;\n En l\u00fdsa \u00e1 vegi\n Lj\u00f3sgeislar kaldir\n Leiptrandi Nor\u00f0ur\u2014\n Lj\u00f3sa sk\u00e6rra.\n S\u00edzt f\u00e6r l\u00e6gra neitt\n E\u00f0ur svipminna\n Y\u00f0ar sambo\u00f0i\u00f0\n Anda h\u00e1um.\n Mundu\u00f0 \u00fe\u00e9r k\u00fdma\n Megnum hl\u00e1tri\n A\u00f0 ilmandi vindum,\n Um er \u00fej\u00f3ta\n Ofurdr\u00fanga lopt\n Ind\u00edafoldar,\n E\u00f0ur geislandi\n Uppheims boga,\n Yfir er brei\u00f0ist\n \u00cdtalska grund.\n Er m\u00e9r sem heyri\n Y\u00f0ur hv\u00edsla:\n \u00c6gir ef fengi,\n Umvafinn fj\u00f6trum,\n Sorgleg ei lengur\n S\u00fangi\u00f0 kv\u00e6\u00f0i\n \u00deau um h\u00e6gindi\n Heyrast y\u00f0ar,\n Og aldinn vetur\n Ei \u00f3lma l\u00e9ti\n Geysa svo vinda,\n Sem gj\u00f6rir hann n\u00fa;\n Mundu\u00f0 \u00fe\u00e9r \u00fe\u00e1\n \u00cd mekkjum sudda\n Hefja l\u00e1tast\n Fr\u00e1 hau\u00f0ri burtn,\n Y\u00f0ra \u00f3h\u00e6fu\n Gr\u00f6f a\u00f0 geyma.\n\n --------------\n\n\n THE VIKING\u2019S RAVEN.[52]\n\n BY MRS. ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON.\n\n Beside a weird-like Norway bay,\n Where wild and angry billows play,\n And seldom meet the night and day,\n A Raven sat.\n\n He was the last of all his race\n That lingered in that lonely place;\n Age, grief, were stamped upon his face,\n Sad, desolate.\n\n Yet to that darkling norland sky\n He raised an undimmed, fearless eye,\n As though he proudly would defy\n And battle fate.\n\n His mate long dead, his nestlings flown,\n The moss had o\u2019er his eyry grown;\n And all the scenes his youth had known\n Were changed and old.\n\n For he had heard the vikings all\n Responding to the mystic call,\n That summoned to great Odin\u2019s hall\n Those heroes bold.\n\n He oft had skimmed the Polar seas;\n And Harold\u2019s sail aye wooed the breeze,\n To follow where the Raven flees\n On tireless wing.\n\n But victory ceased on them to smile.\u2014\n On Hialtland\u2019s rugged, rock-bound isle\n He saw them raise the funeral pile\n Of the Sea-King.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Once his unerring pinions led\n To where the shafts of battle sped;\n But, when the conquered Northmen fled,\n He scorned to flee;\n\n But watched where brave young Ingolf lies,\n With drooping heart and fading eyes,\n Pining for his native skies,\n A captive he.\n\n A maiden of the sunny South\n There loved and would have freed the youth,\n But he was wed to Gulda Br\u00fbth.\n His norland bride.\n\n And she, across the stormy main,\n Had turned her weary eyes in vain;\u2014\n Her hero ne\u2019er returned again:\n And so she died.\n\n No Saga tells where rests the brave,\n No mourner weeps by Ingolf\u2019s grave;\n The Raven\u2019s sable pinions wave\n There all alone.\n\n And then he spread his pinions wide\n Upon the free north wind to ride,\n With mien erect, and eye of pride;\n His task well done.\n\n And nought around, howe\u2019er so bright,\n Could win his stay, or stop his flight\n From where he saw the pole-star\u2019s light\n Shine o\u2019er the north.\n\n When, hark! a wild exulting cry\n Falls on his ear; his piercing eye\n A burning vessel can descry\n That flashes forth,\n\n Like to the fitful spirit-gleam\n Of the Aurora\u2019s restless beam;\n But ah! he knows it is no dream,\n And droops his wing.\n\n Beside the blazing spectral pyre\u2014\n A spark from Baldur\u2019s sacred fire\n Lighteth to death a Norseman sire,\u2014\n Brave old Thorsteing.\n\n His arms are folded o\u2019er his breast,\n And on his noble brow doth rest\n The shadow from his warrior crest\n That waves on high.\n\n His glances on the ocean fell;\n Fondly he marked its rising swell\u2014\n That ocean he had loved so well\u2014\n Then raised his eye.\n\n And when he saw the faithful bird,\n The soul of song within him stirred.\n\n Hast thou once more returned,\n Thou trusty friend, to me?\n What news hast thou of Ingolf,\n My son, the brave and free?\n Hath he in battle fallen,\n His good sword by his side?\n Or, captive, is he sighing\n To see once more his bride?\n\n Ah! no, his soul would scorn\n In captive chain to lie;\n I know he hath been borne\n To Valhalla\u2019s halls on high,\n And I\u2019ll meet him in the sky\n E\u2019re the morn.\n\n Alas! with us will perish\n The Vikings\u2019 race and name,\n That long made foemen tremble\n When Scalds rehearsed our fame.\n And thou, dark bird of omen,\n Back to our country hie,\n And tell her recreant children\n How Norsemen ought to die.\n But to guard my mountain home\n My spirit yet will soar,\n And on old ocean roam\n As in the days of yore.\n Oft to visit yon loved shore\n I will come.\n\n The song hath ceased, and Thorsteing brave\n Is sleeping now in Odin\u2019s cave.\n\n Athwart the sky the lightnings flash,\n While down the Fiords the thunders crash,\n And sullen waves in fury lash\n The fretted shore.\n\n Where is that Raven, grim and lone?\u2014\n Uprooted is the old grey stone.\n Where late he sat, and he is gone\n To come no more.\n\n --------------\n\n\n DEATH OF THE OLD NORSE KING.\n\n BY A.J.S.\n\n Haste, clothe me, jarls, in my royal robe;\n My keen biting sword gird ye.\n Haste! for I go to the Fatherland,\n Both king of earth and sea.\n My blade so true, with a spirit-gleam\u2014\n Death lurks in its skinkling fire\u2014\n I grasp thee now as of olden time\n In conflict hot and dire.\n\n I\u2019ve trampled foes; from their blanch\u00e9d sculls\n Now drain off the dark-red wine;\n Fall bravely all in the battle field,\n Be crowned with wreaths divine!\n My eyes wax dim, and my once jet locks\n Now wave with a silvery white;\n Feeble, my arm cannot wield the blade\n I dote on with delight.\n\n Grim Hela breathes a chilling shade,\n I hear the Valkyrii sing;\n Now to the halls of the brave I\u2019ll rise,\n As fits an old Norse King.\n Heimdallar\u2019s ship, with the incense wood,\n Prepare as a pyre for me;\n Blazing, I\u2019ll rise to the Odin halls,\n At once in the air and sea!\n\n They\u2019ve lit slow fire in the incense ship;\n The sun has just sunk in the wave;\n Set are the sails, he is launched away,\n This hero-king so brave!\n The death chaunt floats in the deep blue skies,\n All wild, in the darkling night;\n Fearful there glares from the blazing ship\n A wild red lurid light.\n\n It shimmering gleams o\u2019er the lone blue sea,\n The flickers shoot wild and high\u2014\n Odin hath welcomed the brave old king\n To his palace in the sky!\n The bale-flames die, and a silence deep\n Now floats on the darkness cold,\n Where so fearless and free, on the deep blue sea,\n Had died this Norse king bold!\n\n =1845.=\n\n --------------\n\n\n DAU\u00d0I GAMALS NOR\u00d0MANNA-KONUNGS.[53]\n\n\n 1.\n\n Skundi\u00f0 \u00fe\u00e9r, jarlar!\n Skj\u00f3tt mig b\u00fai\u00f0\n Skr\u00fa\u00f0kl\u0153\u00f0um, beztu\n Skarti j\u00f6furs,\n Og meginbitrum\n M\u0153ki gir\u00f0i\u00f0;\n \u00dev\u00ed heim vil eg halda\n Til h\u00fasa f\u00f6\u00f0ur,\n \u00c1 l\u00e1\u00f0i b\u00e6\u00f0i og l\u00f6g\n L\u00e1var\u00f0ur kj\u00f6rinn.\n Tryggvan, glj\u00e1andi\n Tek eg m\u0153ki\u2014\n Af honum leiptrar\n \u00d3lmur dau\u00f0i\u2014\n Hann vil eg n\u00fa\n \u00cd h\u00f6ndum bera,\n Sem \u00e1\u00f0ur \u00ed grimmum\n Oddaleikum.\n\n 2.\n\n Hefi eg fjendur\n F\u00f3tum tro\u00f0na;\n Myrkrau\u00f0ar drekka\n Megi\u00f0 n\u00fa veigar\n Sk\u00fdg\u00f0um af hausa\u2014\n Skeljum \u00feeirra.\n Hn\u00edgi\u00f0 sem hetjur\n \u00cd hildarleiki,\n \u00d6rl\u00f6g \u00fe\u00e1 kalla,\n \u00c6\u00f0stum hei\u00f0ri\n Kr\u00fdndir af go\u00f0um\n \u00deeim \u00e1 Gimli b\u00faa.\n Daprast m\u00e9r sj\u00f3n\n Og d\u00f6kkvir \u00e1\u00f0ur\n Leika silfurlit\n Lokkar \u00e1 h\u00f6f\u00f0i;\n Armur aflvana\n Ei f\u00e6r valdi\u00f0\n M\u0153ki, \u00feeim una\u00f0\n Mestum veldur\n\n 3.\n\n Hefur upp myrkva\n Fr\u00e1 Helju kaldan;\n A\u00f0 berst eyrum\n \u00d3mur Valkyrju;\n Hefur mig hugur\n Til hetjusala;\n Svo ber Nor\u00f0manna\n N\u00fdtum j\u00f6fri\n Aldurhnignum\n \u00c6fi G\u00faka.\n Heimdalls \u00feer snekkju\n Hra\u00f0ir b\u00fai\u00f0,\n Og ylmandi l\u00e1ti\u00f0\n Eldsk\u00ed\u00f0 loga;\n Vil eg \u00fear nar\n \u00c1 vita brenna;\n En hugur mig ber\n Til hallar \u00d3\u00f0ins\n Til upphimins jafnt\n Og Unnar sala.\n\n 4.\n\n Brennur sk\u00ed\u00f0eldur\n \u00c1 skipi kveiktur;\n M\u00e6r hverfur s\u00f3l\n \u00cd marar skauti;\n Undin eru segl,\n Ytt fr\u00e1 landi\n Siglir \u00fear hetjan,\n Hilmir fr\u00e6gur.\n N\u00f6tra n\u00e1 hlj\u00f3d\n \u00cd ni\u00f0myrkvu lopti;\n Breg\u00f0ur \u00e1 b\u00fdsnum\n \u00cd blindmyrkri n\u00e6tur;\n Leiptra geigv\u00e6nir\n Logar fr\u00e1 snekkju,\n Og d\u00f6kkrau\u00f0ri mi\u00f0la\n Dau\u00f0ask\u00fdmu.\n\n 5.\n\n Brunnar einskipa\n Um bl\u00e1an \u00c6gi\n Umvafin skei\u00f0\n \u00cd \u00f3gna blossum;\n En \u00d3\u00f0inn fagnandi\n Aldinn sj\u00f3la\n Til himinsala\n Hefir leiddan,\n Dv\u00edna burt logar\n Og dj\u00fapri lystur\n Megin \u00fe\u00f6gn yfir\n Myrkva kaldan;\n \u00dear \u00ed myrkbl\u00e1u\n Mararskauti;\n Hilmir Nor\u00f0manna,\n Hetjan fr\u00e6gust,\n Hugpr\u00fa\u00f0ur, frj\u00e1ls,\n R\u00e9d Sielju gista.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 50:\n\n Written in reply to the following lines, by Delta, sent her by way of\n a challenge.\n\n \u201cTo where the Arctic billow foams\n Round Shetland\u2019s sad and silent homes,\n There sighs the wind and wails the surge\n As \u2019twere of living things the dirge.\u201d\n\n In these old heathen days, be it remembered, where all were sea-rovers\n there were good and bad among them. For a fine description of the best\n type of the Viking and his code of honour, see Tegner\u2019s beautiful\n northern poem, \u201cThe Frithjof Saga.\u201d\n\nFootnote 51:\n\n The \u201cLay of the Vikings,\u201d translated into Icelandic verse by the Rev.\n Olaf P\u00e1lsson. It is in the free metre of the old sagas\u2014the same as\n that which Thorl\u00e1ksson adopted in his translation of \u201cParadise Lost.\u201d\n The following is the translation of Delta\u2019s lines:\n\n \u00dear sem um Hjaltlands\n Heimkynni \u00fe\u00f6gul\n Nor\u00f0urhafs \u00f6ldur\n \u00d3lmar frey\u00f0a,\n Stynja \u00fear stormar,\n St\u00fara brimbo\u00f0ar,\n Lifandi veru\n L\u00edkar sorgr\u00f6ddum.\n\nFootnote 52:\n\n The raven was regarded as sacred, and greatly venerated by the old\n Norse Vikings, who had always one or two of these birds in their\n ships. When setting out on marauding expeditions the raven was let\n loose and his flight followed by the bold voyagers, in the belief that\n he led them to war and victory. These birds it was supposed lived to a\n fabulous age. Odin\u2019s shield had a raven on it, and so had the\n _Landeyda_ or battle-flag of Sigurd, which ever led to victory,\n although its bearer was doomed to die. Hialtland is the ancient name\n of Shetland. The Norse rovers thought it a disgrace to die in their\n beds in peace; and when they found their end approaching, clad in\n armour, had themselves carried on board their ships which were then\n set fire to and sent adrift, that the old heroes might die, as they\n had lived, on the ocean, and thence worthily rise to Valhalla.\n\nFootnote 53:\n\n The \u201cDeath of the Old Norse King,\u201d translated into Icelandic verse by\n the Rev. Olaf P\u00e1lsson.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n IV.\n\n INFORMATION FOR INTENDING TOURISTS:\n\n\n A LETTER RECEIVED FROM THE REV. OLAF P\u00c1LSSON IN ANSWER TO\n QUERIES ABOUT TRAVELLING IN ICELAND.\n\n --------------\n\n Reykjavik, 20th Nov. 1861.\n\nMy Dear Friend,\n\n According to your wish in your kind note of 15th\nAugust this year, I will now try to give some answers to the queries you\nhave there put to me, about several matters which it may be useful for\nstrangers who travel in Iceland to know.\n\nI have since conferred with Z\u00f6ga, who is assuredly the very best guide\nin this place, and well versed in these matters. The hints that I am\nable to give are as follows, and correspond to the order of the queries\nput.\n\n1st. I have not such an extensive acquaintance with the coasts of\nIceland as to be able to describe all places of shelter that might be\nfound around the island; for doubtless they are many. But I am sure,\nthat it will not be advisable for any foreign vessel to approach the\nsouth coast; for, from Cape Reykjanes to Berufiord, there is no shelter\nat all along the whole south side of Iceland, except in the Westmanna\nIslands, which lie some ten miles from the shore.\n\nAs a general rule, every merchant place, marked on the map, will be\nfound tolerably safe.\n\n2d. For the Englishman who arrives at Reykjavik, or for any traveller\nwho has some knowledge of English, it is not absolutely necessary to\nknow other languages; for guides who know that language can be had\nthere, and these make tolerably good interpreters in the country.\n\nThis, however, will scarcely be the case in any other merchant place in\nIceland.\n\n3d. As to expenses of travelling; I can only remark that a guide is paid\nabout 2 rix dollars[54] a day (4/6).\n\nEvery gentleman will be obliged to have two ponies each at 64 skillings\nper day (1/5). A jack horse is to be got at 48 skillings per day, and\nwill not comfortably carry more than 100 to 120 lbs. weight. If this\nhorse is provided with pack saddle and chests for preserving goods in,\nit will cost 64 skillings. If the travellers should wish to be away for\na longer time from human habitations, it will be necessary for them to\nbring with them a tent, a sufficient quantity of victuals, &c. Thus it\nwill be found that two gentlemen travelling cannot easily do with less\nthan five pack horses, and then they will require to have two guides,\none to take care of the horses and baggage, and the other to attend upon\nthemselves when they wish to travel faster, or to visit places where the\ntrain of baggage horses cannot easily go with them.\n\nFrom this I hope an idea can be formed of the average cost of such\ntravelling for a week or so. For a more protracted journey through the\nisland, it will certainly be preferable to buy the horses, and dispose\nof them again by auction on returning to Reykjavik. The average price of\na pack horse will be 24 rix dollars, and for a riding pony 30 to 40 rix\ndollars. They will again sell at a half, or at least a third of the\nmoney, according to the length of the journey, their condition, and the\nseason of the year. This calculation is made for a journey begun from\nReykjavik, which in most respects will be found the most convenient\nplace to start from.\n\n4th. An india-rubber boat will very probably be serviceable, but it will\nseldom be needed; for on almost every one of the larger rivers there are\nplenty of ferries.\n\n5th. The very best month for travelling in Iceland undoubtedly is July,\nand next to it August. A journey can be begun in the middle of June. At\nan earlier time there will not be sufficient grass for the horses. The\njourney can usually, without the risk of getting bad weather, be\nprolonged to the middle of September.\n\nThese, my dear sir, are all the hints I am able to give you. I am sure\nthere are many other things which might be taken into consideration, but\nI have written this to my best ability, although in great haste, which\nmay excuse the many faults I am sure will be found with my English. With\nmy best wishes &c.\n\n Yours very truly,\n\n O. P\u00c1LSSON.\n\n NOTE.\u2014The screw steamer _Arcturus_ makes six trips during the\n season, carrying the mails from Copenhagen to Iceland, and\n calling at Grangemouth and the Far\u00f6e Islands. The first sailing\n north is generally about the beginning of March, and the last\n towards the end of October. Fares\u2014First cabin \u00a35; second do. \u00a33\n 10s. Return\u2014only available for the same voyage\u2014first cabin \u00a39;\n second do. \u00a36. Further information may be obtained by applying\n to Mr. P. L. Henderson, 20 Dixon Street, Glasgow; Messrs. David\n Robertson & Co., Grangemouth; or Messrs. Koch & Henderson,\n Copenhagen.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 54:\n\n A rix dollar is equal in value to 2/3 English. A skilling is a\n fraction more than a farthing.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n V.\n\n GLOSSARY.\n\n\n The following Explanatory List of Geographical Terms will\n assist the memory, aid the pronunciation, and, it is\n believed, prove of interest and practical utility.[55]\n\n \u00e1 _or_ aa, _river_.\n\n\n bakki, _hill_.\n\n beru, _bare_.\n\n beru-fj\u00f6rdr, _bare frith_.\n\n bl\u00e1, _blue_.\n\n b\u0153r, _farm_.\n\n bol, _or_ bol-stadr, _main farm_, or _steading_ (bu _or_ boo, in\n Orkney).\n\n brekka, _brink of a precipice_.\n\n br\u00fa, _bridge_.\n\n\n dalr, _valley_.\n\n\n eingi, _or_ hagi, _meadow_, or _field_.\n\n ey (eyjar, genitive singular; eyja, genitive plural), _an island_\n\n eyri, _sand_, _sand-bank_ or _bar_ (ere, in north of England)\n\n\n fell, _same as_ fjall.\n\n ferjur, _ferries_.\n\n fjall, (plural fj\u00f6ll), _fell_, or _height_; as Bl\u00e1-fjall, _blue fell_,\n or, in English, _Scawfell_, _&c._\n\n fj\u00f6rdr, _frith_.\n\n flj\u00f3t, _a river_ (_fleet_)\n\n fors, _force_, or _waterfall_.\n\n\n hals, _ridge_, or _col_.\n\n h\u00e6dir, _heights_.\n\n heidi, _heath_.\n\n hof, _or_ hofdi, _head_, or _headland_.\n\n holl, _hill_.\n\n holt, _wood_.\n\n hraun, _lava_.\n\n hreppr, _a rape_ (whence divisions of land, and \u201crapes\u201d of Sussex).\n\n hvamm, _a combe_, or _recess surrounded by hills_; _as Ilfra-combe_.\n\n hvit, _white_ (hence hvit-\u00e1, _white river_.)\n\n\n j\u00f6kull, _ice mountain_.\n\n j\u00f6kuls-\u00e1, is the name given to many rivers, and means only _ice river_;\n but it is usually associated with another name, such as Axa-firdi\n J\u00f6kuls-\u00e1, or _ice river of the Axa frith_.\n\n\n kirk, _church_.\n\n kverk, _chin_ (hence Kverk-fj\u00f6ll, _Chinfell_).\n\n\n lid, _lithe_, provincial for _a sloping bank_ (whence Reykja-lid, _the\n smoking bank_).\n\n l\u0153kr, _brook_, _stream_.\n\n\n muli, _mull_, or _cliff_; thing-muli, _the heights_, or _cliffs, under\n which an assembly was held_.\n\n myri, _morass_.\n\n\n ness, _headland_.\n\n nupr, _bluff_, or _inland cliff_.\n\n\n or\u0153fi, _wastes_.\n\n\n rafn, _raven_.\n\n reyk, _smoke_.\n\n\n sandr, _sands_.\n\n skard, _pass_, _defile_.\n\n sk\u00f3gr, _underwood_.\n\n stadr, _stede_, _stead_, or _sted_; _as Hampstead_.\n\n str\u00f6nd, _strand_.\n\n sysla, _or_ syssel, _district_.\n\n\n thing, _meeting_.\n\n\n vatn (plural, v\u00f6tn), _lake_.\n\n vellir, _plain_.\n\n vik, vikr, _bay_; Grunda-vik, _green bay_; Greenwich = Green-vik.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 55:\n\n Extracted from the postscript to Mr. William Longman\u2019s \u201cSuggestions\n for the Exploration of Iceland\u201d\u2014an address delivered to the members of\n the Alpine Club, of which he is Vice-President.\u2014Longman & Co., 1861.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n VI.\n\n OUR SCANDINAVIAN ANCESTORS.[56]\n\n\nFew subjects possess greater interest for the British race than the\nScandinavian North, with its iron-bound rampart of wave-lashed rocks,\nits deeply indented fiords, bold cliffs, rocky promontories, abrupt\nheadlands, wild skerries, crags, rock-ledges, and caves, all alive with\ngulls, puffins and kittiwakes; and in short, the general and striking\npicturesqueness of its scenery, to say nothing of the higher human\ninterest of its stirring history, and the rich treasures of its grand\nold literature.\n\nThe British race has been called Anglo-Saxon; made up however, as it is,\nof many elements\u2014Ancient Briton, Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Dane, Norman, and\nScandinavian\u2014the latter predominates so largely over the others as to\nprove by evidence, external and internal, and not to be gainsaid, that\nthe Scandinavians are our true progenitors.\n\nThe Germans are a separate branch of the same great Gothic family,\nindustrious, but very unlike us in many respects. The degree of\nresemblance and affinity may be settled by styling them honest but\nunenterprising inland friends, whose ancestors and ours were first\ncousins upwards of a thousand years ago.\n\nTo the old Northmen\u2014hailing from the sea-board of Norway, Sweden, and\nDenmark\u2014may be traced the germs of all that is most characteristic of\nthe modern Briton, whether personal, social, or national. The\nconfiguration of the land, and the numerous arms of the sea with which\nthe north-west of Europe is indented, necessitated boats and seamanship.\nFrom these coasts, the Northmen\u2014whether bent on piratical plundering\nexpeditions, or peacefully seeking refuge from tyrannical oppression at\nhome\u2014sallied forth in their frail barks or skiffs, which could live in\nthe wildest sea, visiting and settling in many lands. We here mention,\nin geographical order, Normandy, England, Scotland, Orkney, Shetland,\nFar\u00f6e, and Iceland. Wherever they have been, they have left indelible\ntraces behind them, these ever getting more numerous and distinct as we\ngo northwards.\n\nAnglen, from which the word England is derived, still forms part of\nHolstein a province in Denmark; and the preponderance of the direct\nScandinavian element in the language itself has been shewn by Dean\nTrench, who states, that of a hundred English words, sixty come from the\nScandinavian, thirty from the Latin, five from the Greek, and five from\nother sources.\n\nIn Scotland many more Norse words, which sound quite foreign to an\nEnglish ear, yet linger amongst the common people; while, as in England,\nthe original Celtic inhabitants were driven to the west before the\nNorthmen, who landed for the most part on the east. In certain districts\nof the Orkneys a corrupt dialect of Norse was spoken till recently, and\nthe Scandinavian type of features is there often to be met with.\n\nThe Norse language is still understood and frequently spoken in\nShetland, where the stalwart, manly forms of the fishermen, the\ncharacteristic prevalence of blue eyes and light flaxen hair, the\nuniversal observance of the Norse Yule, and many other old-world\ncustoms, together with the oriental and almost affecting regard paid to\nthe sacred rites of hospitality, on the part of the islanders, all\nplainly tell their origin.\n\nThe language of the Far\u00f6e islanders is a dialect of the Norse,\napproaching Danish, and peculiar to themselves. It is called Far\u00f6ese.\nThe peaceful inhabitants not only resemble, but are Northmen.\n\nIn Iceland we have pure Norse, as imported from Norway in the ninth\ncentury, the lone northern sea having guarded it, and many other\ninteresting features, from those modifications to which the Norwegian,\nDanish, and Swedish have been subjected by neighbouring Teutonic or\nGerman influences. This language, the parent, or at least the oldest and\npurest form of the various Scandinavian dialects with which we are\nacquainted, has been at different times named D\u00f6nsk-tunga, Norr\u00e6na, or\nNorse, but latterly it has been simply called Icelandic, because\npeculiar to that island.\n\nThe language, history, and literature of our ancestors having been thus\npreserved in the north, we are thereby enabled to revisit the past, read\nit in the light of the present, and make both subservient for good in\nthe future.\n\nHerodotus mentions that tin was procured from Britain. Strabo informs us\nthat the Ph\u0153nicians traded to our island, receiving tin and skins in\nexchange for earthenware, salt, and vessels of brass; but our first\nauthentic particulars regarding the ancient Britons are derived from\nJulius C\u00e6sar, whose landing on the southern portion of our island, and\nhard-won battles, were but transient and doubtful successes. The\noriginal inhabitants were Celts from France and Spain; but, as we learn\nfrom him, these had long before been driven into the interior and\nwestern portion of the island by Belgians, who crossed the sea, made\ngood their footing, settled on the east and south-eastern shores of\nEngland, and were now known as Britons. With these C\u00e6sar had to do. The\nintrepid bravery of the well-trained and regularly disciplined British\nwarriors commanded respect, and left his soldiers but little to boast\nof. The Roman legions never felt safe unless within their entrenchments,\nand, even there, were sometimes surprised. Strange to realise such dire\nconflicts raging at the foot of the Surrey hills, probably in the\nneighbourhood of Penge, Sydenham, and Norwood, where the Crystal Palace\nnow peacefully stands. Even in these dark Druid days, the Britons,\nalthough clothed in skins, wearing long hair, and stained blue with\nwoad, were no mere painted savages as they have sometimes been\nrepresented, but were in possession of regularly-constituted forms of\ngovernment. They had naval, military, agricultural and commercial\nresources to depend upon, and were acquainted with many of the important\narts of life. The Briton was simple in his manners, frugal in his\nhabits, and loved freedom above all things. Had the brave Caswallon\nheaded the men of Kent, in their attack upon the Roman maritime camp,\nC\u00e6sar and his hosts would never, in all likelihood, have succeeded in\nreaching their ships, but would have found graves on our shores. His\nadmirable commentaries would not have seen the light of day, and the\nwhole current of Roman, nay, of the world\u2019s history might have been\nchanged.\n\nOur British institutions and national characteristics were not adopted\nfrom any quarter, completely moulded and finished, as it were, but\neverywhere exhibit the vitality of growth and progress, slow but sure.\nEach new element or useful suggestion, from whatever source derived, has\nbeen tested and modified before being allowed to take root and form part\nof the constitution. The germs have been developed in our own soil.\n\nThus, to the Romans, we can trace our municipal institutions\u2014subjection\nto a central authority controlling the rights of individuals. To the\nScandinavians, we can as distinctly trace that principle of personal\nliberty which resists absolute control, and sets limits\u2014such as Magna\nCharta\u2014to the undue exercise of authority in governors.\n\nThese two opposite tendencies, when united, like the centripedal and\ncentrifugal forces, keep society revolving peacefully and securely in\nits orbit around the sun of truth. When severed, tyranny, on the one\nhand, or democratic license, on the other\u2014both alike removed from\nfreedom\u2014must result, sooner or later, in instability, confusion, and\nanarchy. France affords us an example of the one, and America of the\nother. London is not Britain in the sense that Paris is France; while\nWashington has degenerated into a mere cockpit for North and South.\n\nFrom the feudal system of the Normans, notwithstanding its abuses, we\nhave derived the safe tenure and transmission of land, with protection\nand security for all kinds of property. British law has been the growth\nof a thousand years, and has been held in so much respect that even our\nrevolutions have been legally conducted, and presided over by the staid\nmajesty of justice. Were more evidences wanting to show that the\nScandinavian element is actually the backbone of the British\nrace\u2014contributing its superiority, physical and moral, its indomitable\nstrength and energy of character\u2014we would simply mention a few traits of\nresemblance which incontestably prove that the \u201cchild is father to the\nman.\u201d\n\nThe old Scandinavian possessed an innate love of truth; much\nearnestness; respect and honour for woman; love of personal freedom;\nreverence, up to the light that was in him, for sacred things; great\nself-reliance, combined with energy of will to dare and do; perseverance\nin overcoming obstacles, whether by sea or land; much self-denial, and\ngreat powers of endurance under given circumstances. These qualities,\nhowever, existed along with a pagan thirst for war and contempt of\ndeath, which was courted on the battle-field that the warrior might rise\nthence to Valhalla.\n\nTo illustrate the love of freedom, even in thought, which characterises\nthe race, it can be shewn that, while the Celtic nations fell an easy\nprey to the degrading yoke of Romish superstition, spreading its deadly\nmiasma from the south, the Scandinavian nations, even when for a time\nacknowledging its sway, were never bound hand and foot by it, but had\nminds of their own, and sooner or later broke their fetters. In the\ntruth-loving Scandinavian, Jesuitical Rome has naturally ever met with\nits most determined antagonist; for\n\n \u201cTrue and tender is the North.\u201d\n\nIn the dark days of the Stuarts, witness the noble struggles of the\nCovenanters and the Puritans for civil and religious liberty.\n\nNotwithstanding mixtures and amalgamations of blood, as a general rule\nthe distinctive tendencies of race survive, and, good or bad, as the\ncase may be, reappear in new and unexpected forms. Even habit becomes a\nsecond nature, the traces of which, centuries with their changes cannot\naltogether obliterate.\n\nOn the other side of the Atlantic, the Puritan Fathers, their\ndescendants, and men like them, have been the salt of the north; while\nmany of the planters of the south, tainted with cavalier blood, continue\nto foster slavery\u2014\u201cthat sum of all villanies\u201d\u2014and glory in being\nman-stealers, man-sellers, and murderers, although cursed of God, and\nexecrated by all right thinking men. John Brown of Harper\u2019s Ferry, who\nwas the other day judicially murdered, we would select as an honoured\ntype of the noble, manly, brave, truth-loving, God-fearing\nScandinavian\u2014_The Times_ and _Athen\u00e6um_ notwithstanding.[57] His heroism\nin behalf of the poor despised slave had true moral grandeur in it\u2014it\nwas sublime. America cannot match it. Washington was great\u2014John Brown\nwas greater. Washington resisted the imposition of unjust taxes on\nhimself and his equals, but was a slave-holder; John Brown unselfishly\ndevoted his energies\u2014nay, life itself\u2014to obtain freedom for the\noppressed, and to save his country from just impending judgments. The\none was a patriot; the other was a patriot and philanthropist. The\npatriotism of Washington was limited by colour; that of Brown was\nthorough, and recognised the sacred rights of man. He was hanged for\ntrying to accomplish that which his murderers ought to have done\u2014nay,\ndeserved to be hanged for not doing\u2014hanged for that which they shall yet\ndo, if not first overtaken and whelmed in just and condign vengeance;\nfor the cry of blood ascends. He was no less a martyr to the cause of\nfreedom than John Brown of Priesthill, who was ruthlessly shot by the\nbloody Claverhouse. These two noble martyrs, in virtue alike of their\nname and cause, shall stand together on the page of future history, when\ntheir cruel murderers and the abettors of them have long gone to their\nown place. For such deeds there shall yet be tears of blood. The wrongs\nof Italy are not to be named in comparison with those of the slave. Let\nthose who boast of a single drop of Scandinavian blood in their veins no\nlonger withhold just rights from the oppressed\u2014rights which, if not\nyielded at this the eleventh hour, shall be righteously, though\nfearfully, wrested from the oppressors, when the hour of retribution\ncomes.[58]\n\nPerhaps the two most striking outward resemblances between Britons and\nScandinavians may be found in their maritime skill, and in their powers\nof planting colonies, and governing themselves by free institutions,\nrepresentative parliaments, and trial by jury.\n\nThe Norse rover\u2014bred to the sea, matchless in skill, daring, loving\nadventure and discovery, and with any amount of pluck\u2014is the true type\nof the British tar. In light crafts, the Northmen could run into shallow\ncreeks, cross the North Sea, or boldly push off to face the storms of\nthe open Atlantic. These old Vikings were seasoned \u201csalts\u201d from their\nvery childhood\u2014\u201ccreatures native and imbued unto the element;\u201d neither\nin peace nor war, on land nor sea, did they fear anything but fear.\n\n \u201cTameless spirits of the past!\n Boldest and noblest of earth\u2019s kind were ye\u2014\n Conquerors of nations\u2014fathers of a race\n Of giant princes.\u201d[59]\n\nIn them we see the forerunners of the buccaneers, and the ancestors of\nthose naval heroes, voyagers, and discoverers\u2014those Drakes and Dampiers,\nNelsons and Dundonalds, Cooks and Franklins, who have won for Britain\nthe proud title of sovereign of the seas\u2014a title which she is still\nready to uphold against all comers.\n\nIn Shetland, we still find the same skilled seamanship, and the same\nlight open boat, like a Norwegian yawl; indeed, planks for building\nskiffs are generally imported from Norway, all prepared and ready to put\ntogether. There the peace-loving fishermen, in pursuit of their perilous\ncalling, sometimes venture sixty miles off to sea, losing sight of all\nland, except perhaps the highest peak of their island-homes left dimly\npeering just above the horizon-line. Sometimes they are actually driven,\nby stress of weather, within sight of the coast of Norway, and yet the\nloss of a skiff in the open sea, however high the waves run, is a thing\nquite unknown to the skilled Shetlander. The buoyancy of the skiff (from\nthis word we have ship and skipper) is something wonderful. Its high bow\nand stern enables it to ride and rise over the waves like a sea-duck,\nalthough its chance of living seems almost as little, and as perilous,\nas that of the dancing shallop or mussel-shell we see whelmed in the\nripple. Its preservation, to the onlooker from the deck of a large\nvessel, often seems miraculous. It is the practice, in encountering the\nstormy blasts of the North Sea, to lower the lug-sail on the approach of\nevery billow, so as to ride its crest with bare mast, and to raise it\nagain as the skiff descends into the more sheltered trough of the wave.\nBy such constant man\u0153uvering, safety is secured and progress made. When\nboats are lost\u2014and such tragedies frequently occur, sometimes leaving\npoor lonely widows bereft, at one fell swoop, of husband, father, and\nbrothers, for the crews are too often made up of relatives\u2014it is\ngenerally when they are caught and mastered by strong currents running\nbetween the islands, which neither oar nor sail can stem. Such losses\nare always on the coasts\u2014never at sea.\n\nOf the Scandinavian powers of colonising:\u2014There is ample evidence of\ntheir having settled in Shetland, Orkney, and on our coasts, long before\nthose great outgoings of which we have authentic historical records. To\nseveral of these latter we shall briefly advert, viz., the English,\nRussian, Icelandic, American, and Norman.\n\nWe may first mention that, in remote ages, this race swept across Europe\nfrom the neighbourhood of the region now called Circassia, lying between\nthe Black Sea and the Caspian, to the shores of the Baltic, settling on\nthe north-west coast of Europe. Their traditions, and numerous eastern\ncustoms\u2014allied to the Persians and the inhabitants of the plains of Asia\nMinor in old Homeric days\u2014which they brought along with them, all go to\nconfirm their eastern origin. Nor did they rest here, but, thirsting for\nadventure in these grim warrior ages, sailed forth as pirates or\nsettlers, sometimes both, and, as can be shewn, made their power and\ninfluence felt in every country of Europe, from Lapland to the\nMediterranean.\n\nThey invaded England in A.D. 429, and founded the kingdoms of South,\nWest, and East Seaxe, East Anglia, Mercia, Deira, and Bernicea; thus\noverrunning and fixing themselves in the land, from Devonshire to North\nof the Humber. From the mixture of these Angles, or Saxons, as they were\ntermed by the Britons, with the previous Belgian settlers and original\ninhabitants, we have the Anglo-Saxon race. The Jutes who settled in Kent\nwere from Jutland. In A.D. 787, the Danes ravaged the coast, beginning\nwith Dorsetshire; and, continuing to swarm across the sea, soon spread\nthemselves over the whole country. They had nearly mastered it all, when\nAlfred ascended the throne in 871. At length, in A.D. 1017, Canute,\nafter much hard fighting, did master it, and England had Danish kings\nfrom that period till the Saxon line was restored in 1042.\n\nIn the year A.D. 862, the Scandinavian Northmen established the Russian\nempire, and played a very important part in the management of its\naffairs, even after the subsequent infusion of the Sclavonic element. In\nthe \u201cM\u00e9moires de la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 Royale des Antiquaries du Nord,\u201d published\nat Copenhagen, we find that, of the fifty names of those composing\nIngor\u2019s embassy to the Greek Emperor at Constantinople in the year A.D.\n994, only three were Sclavic, and the rest Northmen\u2014names that occur in\nthe Sagas, such as Ivar, Vigfast, Eylif, Grim, Ulf, Frode, Asbrand, &c.\nThe Greeks called them Russians, but Frankish writers simply Northmen.\n\nIn the year A.D. 863, Naddodr, a Norwegian, discovered Iceland,[60]\nwhich, however, had been previously visited and resided in at intervals\nfor at least upwards of seventy years before that time, by fishermen,\necclesiastics, and hermits, called Westmen, from Ireland, Iona and other\nislands of the Hebrides. Of these visits Naddodr found numerous traces.\n\nIn A.D. 874, Ingolf with followers, many of whom were related to the\nfirst families in Norway, fleeing from the tyranny of Harold Harfagra,\nbegan the colonisation of Iceland, which was completed during a space of\nsixty years. They established a flourishing republic, appointed\nmagistrates, and held their Althing, or national assembly, at\nThingvalla.\n\nMany of the Northmen who at various times had settled on our shores,\naccompanied by their acquired relatives, also set sail and joined their\nbrethren; thus making use of Britain as a stepping stone between\nScandinavia and Iceland. Many traces of these early links yet remain. We\nheard of a family in the island that can trace its descent, in a direct\nline, from a royal ancestor of Queen Victoria.\n\nThus, in this distant volcanic island of the Northern Sea, the old\nDanish language was preserved unchanged for centuries; while, in the\nvarious Eddas, were embodied those folk-songs and folk-myths, and, in\nthe sagas, those historical tales and legends of an age at once heroic\nand romantic, together with that folk-lore which still forms the staple\nof all our old favourite nursery tales, as brought with them from Europe\nand the East by the first settlers.[61] All these, as well as the\nproductions of the Icelanders themselves, are of great historical and\nliterary value. They have been carefully edited and published, at\nCopenhagen, by eminent Icelandic, Danish, and other antiquarians. We\nwould refer to the writings of M\u00fcller, Magnusen, Rafn, Rask, Eyricksson,\nTorf\u00e6us, and others. Laing has translated \u201cThe Heimskringla,\u201d the great\nhistorical Saga of Snorro Sturleson, into English.[62] Various other\ntranslations and accounts of these singularly interesting Eddas, sagas,\nand ballads, handed down by the scalds and Sagamen, are to be met with;\nbut by far the best analysis, with translated specimens, is that\ncontained in Howitt\u2019s \u201cLiterature and Romance of Northern Europe.\u201d[63]\nWe would call attention, in passing, to that Edda, consisting of the\noriginal series of tragic poems from which the German \u201cNiebelungen-lied\u201d\nhas been derived. Considered as a series of fragments, it is a\nmarvellous production, and, to our thinking, absolutely unparalleled in\nancient or modern literature, for power, simplicity, and heroic\ngrandeur.\n\nChristianity was established in Iceland in the year 1000. Fifty-seven\nyears later, Isleif, Bishop of Sk\u00e1lholt, first introduced the art of\nwriting the Roman alphabet, thus enabling them to fix oral lessons of\nhistory and song; for, the Runic characters previously in use were\nchiefly employed for monuments and memorial inscriptions, and were\ncarved on wood staves, on stone or metal. On analysis, these rude\nletters will be found to be crude forms and abridgments of the Greek or\nRoman alphabet. We have identified them all, with the exception of a few\nletters, and are quite satisfied on this point, so simple and obvious is\nit, although we have not previously had our attention directed to the\nfact.\n\nSnorro Sturleson was perhaps one of the most learned and remarkable men\nthat Iceland has produced.\n\nIn 1264, through fear and fraud, the island submitted to the rule of\nHaco, king of Norway:\u2014he who died at Kirkwall, after his forces were\nrouted by the Scots at the battle of Largs. In 1387, along with Norway,\nit became subject to Denmark. In 1529, a printing press was established;\nand in 1550 the Lutheran reformation was introduced into the\nisland\u2014which form of worship is still retained.\n\nTrue to the instinct of race, the early settlers in Iceland did not\nremain inactive, but looked westward, and found scope for their\nhereditary maritime skill in the discovery and colonising of Greenland.\nThey also discovered Helluland (Newfoundland), Markland (Nova Scotia),\nand Vineland (New England). They were also acquainted with American\nland, which they called Hvitramannaland, (the land of the white men),\nthought to have been North and South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. We\nhave read authentic records of these various voyages, extending from\nA.D. 877 to A.D. 1347. The names of the principal navigators are\nGunnbiorn, Eric the Red, Biarni, Leif, Thorwald, &c. But the most\ndistinguished of these American discoverers is Thorfinn Karlsefne, an\nIcelander, \u201cwhose genealogy,\u201d says Rafn, \u201cis carried back, in the old\nnorthern annals, to Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, Scottish, and Irish\nancestors, some of them of royal blood.\u201d With singular interest we also\nread that, \u201cin A.D. 1266, some priests at Gardar, in Greenland, set on\nfoot a voyage of discovery to the arctic regions of America. An\nastronomical observation proves that this took place through Lancaster\nSound and Barrow\u2019s Strait to the latitude of Wellington\u2019s Channel.\u201d\n\nWhen Columbus visited Iceland in A.D. 1467, he may have obtained\nconfirmation of his theories as to the existence of a great continent in\nthe west; for, these authentic records prove the discovery and\ncolonisation of America, by the Northmen from Iceland, upwards of five\nhundred years before he re-discovered it.\n\nThe Norman outgoing is the last to which we shall here allude. In A.D.\n876 the Northmen, under Rollo, wrested Normandy from the Franks; and\nfrom thence, in A.D. 1065, William, sprung from the same stock, landed\nat Hastings, vanquished Harold, and to this day is known as the\nConqueror of England. It was a contest of Northmen with Northmen, where\ndiamond cut diamond.\n\nInstead of a chapter, this subject, we feel, would require a volume. At\nthe outset we asserted that northern subjects possessed singular\ninterest for the British race. In a very cursory manner we have\nendeavoured to prove it, by shewing that to Scandinavia, as its cradle,\nwe must look for the germs of that spirit of enterprise which has\npeopled America, raised an Indian empire, and colonised Australia, and\nwhich has bound together, as one, dominions on which the sun never sets;\nall, too, either speaking, or fast acquiring, a noble language, which\nbids fair one day to become universal.\n\nThe various germs, tendencies, and traits of Scandinavian character,\nknit together and amalgamated in the British race, go to form the\nessential elements of greatness and success, and, where sanctified and\ndirected into right channels, are noble materials to work upon.\n\nIt is Britain\u2019s pride to be at once the mistress of the seas, the home\nof freedom, and the sanctuary of the oppressed. May it also be her high\nhonour, by wisely improving outward privileges, and yet further\ndeveloping her inborn capabilities, pre-eminently to become the\ntorch-bearer of pure Christianity\u2014with its ever-accompanying freedom and\ncivilisation\u2014to the whole world!\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 56:\n\n This chapter, written in December 1859, has already appeared in the\n pages of a periodical.\u2014A.J.S.\n\nFootnote 57:\n\n These journals, while admitting, in a general though apologetic way,\n that great evils exist in connection with slavery, yet, somehow, on\n every occasion, systematically and persistently uphold pro-slavery\n measures and interests.\n\nFootnote 58:\n\n Fuller information and subsequent events in America have justified and\n amply confirmed this estimate of Brown, formed at the time. Having had\n access to documents, published and unpublished, and being in a\n position to judge, we would confidently refer the reader to a volume\n of 452 pp. 8vo., since published by Smith, Elder & Co.\u2014\u201cThe Life and\n Letters of Captain John Brown, edited by Richard D. Webbe\u201d\u2014as\n presenting a fair statement of the facts of the case. From Brown\u2019s\n deeds and words, therein recorded, it will be clearly seen, how calm,\n noble and dignified was the bearing of the man whom short-sighted\n trimmers, on both sides the Atlantic, have attempted to brand as a\n fanatic.\n\nFootnote 59:\n\n See \u201cLay of the Vikings,\u201d p. 278.\n\nFootnote 60:\n\n The antiquarian book to which we have already referred, erroneously\n attributes the discovery to Garder, a Dane of Swedish origin. Our\n authority is G\u00edsli Brynj\u00falfsson, the Icelandic poet, now resident in\n Copenhagen, to whose kindness we are also indebted for the copy of\n this work which we possess.\n\nFootnote 61:\n\n For these last, we would refer to Thorpe\u2019s \u201cYuletide Stories,\u201d\n Dasent\u2019s \u201cPopular Tales from the Norse,\u201d our own Nursery Lore, and to\n preceding Stories and Tales in this appendix.\n\nFootnote 62:\n\n Mr. Dasent has since published an admirable translation of \u201cNjal\u2019s\n Saga,\u201d which presents a vivid picture of life in Iceland at the end of\n the tenth century.\n\nFootnote 63:\n\n See the preceding specimens of old Icelandic poetry.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n INDEX\n\n\n Abrasions of Ice-drift, 72, 76, 86\n\n Academy, 61\n\n Ailsa, 44\n\n Akur Eyri, 57\n\n Almannagj\u00e1, 77-82, 88-89\n\n Alsey, 44\n\n Althing, 86-90, 141\n\n America discovered by Northmen, 306\n\n Amphitheatre, head of Seydisfiord, 201\n\n Amptmen, 154\n\n Anchorage at Reykjavik, 48\n\n Anglen, 294\n\n Angles, 303\n\n Apavatn, 103\n\n Appearance of Great Geyser, 126\n\n Approach to Far\u00f6e, 13\n\n Approach to the Geysers, 106-107\n\n Arch of rock under water, 111\n\n Arctic discovery in A.D. 1266, 307\n\n Armannsfell, 140\n\n Arrival of Steamer, 50\n\n Ascent of Hrafnagj\u00e1, 92\n\n Ashes carried to Bergen, 169,\n to Far\u00f6e, 176, 191\n\n Auks, 15\n\n\n Balls of fire, 164\n\n Bannockburn, Burn\u2019s, in Icelandic, 65\n\n Basin of Great Geyser, 108\n\n Bay at Reykjavik, 160\n\n Beck, Rev. S. D. 84\n\n Beds, 72\n\n Bells of water, 113\n\n Berufiord, 199, 201\n\n Biarni Sveinsson and his sister Salv\u00f6r, 226\n\n Bible associations, 127-128\n\n Birches, 91, 100, 106\n\n Birds very tame, 100\n\n Bjarnarey, 43\n\n Blae-berries, 106\n\n Blesi, 111, 136,\n Blue tint of, 112\n\n Boats\u2019 crews, fishing, 99\n\n Boxes for baggage, 70\n\n Breida Fiord, 47, 199\n\n Breidamerkr J\u00f6kul, 197\n\n Bressay, 8\n\n Bridge at Bruar\u00e1 Waterfall, 103-105\n\n Brimn\u00e6s Fjall, 208\n\n Britain\u2019s, honour and duty, 308\n\n British race, Origin of, 293\n\n Brown, Capt. John, of Harper\u2019s Ferry, 299\n\n Bruar\u00e1, 103,\n Fording of, 103-105, 135\n\n Bruce\u2019s address at Bannockburn, in Icelandic, 65\n\n Brushwood, 91\n\n Brynj\u00falfsson, G\u00edsli, 65\n\n Bunsen\u2019s Geyser theory, 124\n\n Buttercups, 108\n\n Butterflies, 105\n\n\n Canute, 303\n\n Cathedral at Reykjavik, 48, 62-64\n\n Celtic nations, Traits of, 298\n\n Central authority, 297\n\n Central molten fire, 129\n\n Chadbourne\u2019s, Professor, night quarters at Farm, 133\n\n Chalcedony, 204\n\n Changeling, The, 257\n\n Chaos, Iceland in winter like, 75\n\n Chasms, 91\n\n Chimney capped amphitheatre of hills, 205\n\n Christianity introduced, 88, 306\n\n Christian Names, 182\n\n Church Swimming, 170\n\n Church at Thorshavn, 24\n\n Church rebuilding, 83\n\n Churchyard at Reykjavik, 66,\n at Thingvalla, 141\n\n Cinder-range, 94-96\n\n Circassian origin of the Northmen, 302\n\n Clearness of northern atmosphere, 47\n\n Clergyman\u2019s daughter married to a Fairy Man, 253\n\n Climate of Iceland, 55-58, 67\n\n Coal, 97\n\n Coast near Reykjavik, 45\n\n Cod-fish Heads, 66\n\n Colonies, Planting, 300, 302\n\n Coloured Clays, 131\n\n Columbus, 42, 307\n\n Column of Fire, 173\n\n Commissariat on Shipboard, 5\n\n Conundrum, Icelandic, 55\n\n Cooking at the Geysers, 115\n\n Coppice, 91\n\n Cormorants, 15\n\n Corrivreckan, 13\n\n Corrugated Lava, 76, 86, 139\n\n Costume of the Far\u00f6ese, 22, 28, 29;\n of Icelandic Ladies, 51, 52, 68\n\n Cowper on Earthquakes and Volcanoes, 193\n\n Cragsmen, 14\n\n Crater, Extinct, 93-94\n\n Crimes, 155\n\n Criminals, 88\n\n Curlew, 72, 134\n\n\n Dark School, The, 219\n\n Danish Monopolists, 41-42\n\n Death of the Old Norse King, 206\n Do. in Icelandic, 207\n\n Defile, 79\n\n Derivation of name Far\u00f6e, 12\n\n Descent into Almannagj\u00e1, 78-81\n\n Diapensia, 74\n\n Dimon, 14\n\n Dirty Habits, 98\n\n Distaff in use, 207\n\n Distance, Ideas of, compounded, 47\n\n Dome of water, 113\n\n Donny, M., of Ghent\u2019s Geyser Experiment, 125\n\n Drainage needed, 142\n\n Dr\u00e1ngr, 44\n\n Dream at the Geyser, 116\n\n Dried Fish, 99\n\n Drongs, 179\n\n Druid days, 296\n\n Dwarf Willows, 139\n\n Dyrh\u00f3laey, 39\n\n\n Earthquakes, 164, 169, 172, 173, 175, 176.\n List of, 196\n\n East, Iceland recalls the, 101, 103, 127-128\n\n East coast, 197\n\n Education, 61-62\n\n Eider-down, 54.\n Ducks, 48\n\n Einarsdr\u00e1ngr, 44\n\n Eldey, 46, 162\n\n Endurance, Powers of, 298\n\n English Tapestry and Linen in Iceland, 41\n\n Eric, 41, 307\n\n Erlendsey, 44\n\n Eruptions, List of, 195-196\n\n Essian Mountains, 160\n\n Evening at Governor\u2019s, 144\n\n Exports from Far\u00f6e, 25\n\n Extinct Geysers, 110\n\n Eyafialla J\u00f6kul, 162\n\n\n Factories, 200, 203.\n Mr. Henderson\u2019s, 202\n\n Fair, Annual, 99\n\n Fair Isle, 7-8, 214\n\n Fairy Tales, 226\n\n Famine and pestilence, 172, 192\n\n Farms, 72, 96-98, 101.\n Above Seydisfiord, 205.\n Fifty destroyed, 173\n\n Far\u00f6ese, 12-34, 209\n\n Far\u00f6ese Atmospheric effects, 33.\n Birds, 15, 34.\n Boatman, 28.\n Boatmen in saloon of steamer, 212.\n Book, 211.\n Cataracts, 33.\n Interior, Medi\u00e6val aspect of, 26.\n Knives, 26.\n Lakes, 33.\n Tidal currents, 33\n\n Faxa Fiord, 47, 199\n\n Fellow travellers, 3\n\n Ferns, 88\n\n Feudal system, 297\n\n Fiords, 198-201.\n Uses of, 200\n\n First sight of Iceland, 38\n\n Fisheries at Westmanna Islands, 40\n\n Fishermen on East coast of Scotland, 6\n\n Fishing boats, Far\u00f6ese, 28\n\n Fish, Mode of catching, at Lax-elv, 71\n\n Fissures at Althing, containing water, 87\n\n Fitful Head, 8\n\n Fishermen\u2019s houses at Reykjavik, 66\n\n Flames and floods, 168, 171\n\n Flosi, 87\n\n Flowers larger in the North, 73\n\n Fly, The, 224\n\n Foaming fire-stream, 189\n\n Foam-flakes, 9\n\n Folk-lore, 305\n\n Food, 97\n\n Foola, 10\n\n Forest, Dwarf, 91, 100\n\n Formation of Far\u00f6e islands, 12-13, 32-33\n\n Fort at Thorshavn, 23\n\n Fox, 210\n\n Free institutions, 296, 300\n\n French policy and interests in Iceland, 58-59\n\n Frodi, Ari, 125\n\n Front street of Reykjavik, 52\n\n Frost, Action of, on rocks, 14\n\n Fuel, 97\n\n\n Garden-plots at Reykjavik, 67\n\n Geirfuglasker, 44\n\n Geranium, Wild, 73\n\n German race, 293\n\n Germs of British character, 298, 301\n\n Geyser bumpers, 130\n\n Geysers, how formed, 109, 100\n\n Geyser Eruption, 117.\n Expedition, Arranging for, 50-51\n\n Geyser ground, 123\n\n Geyser water, Analysis of, 109\n\n Gilitrutt, 240\n\n Glaciers, 30, 179\n\n Glades, 74\n\n Glen above Seydisfiord, 205\n\n Globes, Vast red-hot, 174\n\n Glossary, 292\n\n Goblin, The, and the Cowherd, 222\n\n Goblin\u2019s Whistle, The, 225\n\n Government, 154\n\n Governor, 154\n\n Grand eruption of Great Geyser, 117\n\n Grassy plot, 74\n\n Great Geyser, 107\n\n Grimsey, Island of, 57\n\n Gritty slope, 107-108\n\n Gr\u0153navatn, 103\n\n Guide, 50\n\n Guillemots, 15\n\n Guldbringu, Sysla, 99\n\n Gudmundsson, M., 157\n\n Gudrun and Sigurd, 265\n\n Gusts in Far\u00f6e, 28\n\n\n Haco, 306\n\n Harold Harfagra, 304\n\n Hastings, 307\n\n Haukadal, 103, 107\n Bird\u2019s eye view of, 125\n\n \u201cH\u00e1vam\u00e1l,\u201d The, or High Song of Odin, 266\n\n Hay-harvest, 84.\n In t\u00fans, 85, 96.\n 200 Loads of, destroyed, 167.\n\n Head-dress of Icelandic females, 49, 51, 68\n\n Heimaklettur, 43\n\n Heimaey, 40\n\n Hekla, 99, 135,\n Eruption of in A.D. 1766, 136.\n Abode of Hela, 138\n\n Heradsthing, 155\n\n Hermanness, 11\n\n Hildur the Fairy Queen, 244\n\n Holum, 137\n\n Hornafiord, 198\n\n Horses sure-footed, 73, 75, 80, 92, 105-106\n\n Hostess\u2019 duties to Guests, 133-134\n\n Hotel at Reykjavik, 64, 149\n\n Hot Springs, 112.\n At Laugervatn, 96\n\n Houses of Far\u00f6ese Fishermen, 21\n\n Houses at Reykjavik, 67\n\n Household Suffrage, 153\n\n Hrafnagj\u00e1, 79, 89, 92, 139\n\n Hummocks on pasture land, 85\n\n Hung-milk, 97\n\n Hvit\u00e1, 103\n\n\n Ice-floes from Greenland, 55-58\n\n Icebergs from Spitzbergen, 55-58\n\n Ice-drift, Effects of, 72, 76, 86\n\n Iceland Spar, 144,\n where found, 204\n\n Iceland left behind, 209\n\n Illusory feeling over flowing water, 105\n\n Indoor occupations, 98\n\n Ingolf, 304\n\n Intercourse between Britain and Iceland in Fifteenth century, 41-42\n\n Inundations of melted ice, 166\n\n Islands Minni, 146\n\n Islendingur newspaper, 157\n\n Islet-patches, 108\n\n\n Jacks-of-all-trades, 98\n\n J\u00f6kuls, 106\n\n J\u00f6kuls\u00e1, 197.\n formed, 166\n\n Jonsbook, 155\n\n Jonson, Rector, 157\n\n Jutes, 303\n\n\n Kaupstadr, 40\n\n Kirkuboe, Church of, 210\n\n Kiss of peace, 102\n\n Kitchen fires, 72\n\n Kittiwakes, 15\n\n Kleifervatn, 158\n\n Krisuvik, 45.\n Ride to, 158\n\n K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1, 125, 162.\n Eruptions of, 163-177\n\n\n Lambs, Mode of carrying, 101\n\n Landfoged, 155\n\n Lang J\u00f6kul, 103\n\n Lang-spiel, 144\n\n Laugervalla, 96, 99, 103\n\n Laugervatn, 96\n\n Language, Scandinavian element in, 294\n\n Launay\u2019s, Capt., vessel, _Agile_, 150\n\n Latin conversation, 85, 141\n\n Latin Vowel Sounds, 34\n\n Lava-blister, 93\n\n Lava, ejected by Skapt\u00e1r, Bulk of, 187\n\n Lava-waste, 74, 86\n\n Lava-streams, Fluid, 188.\n Extent of, 190\n\n Lay of the Vikings, 278.\n do. in Icelandic, 279\n\n Lax\u00e1, 103\n\n Lax-elv, or salmon river, 71\n\n Leather bottle, 101\n\n Leif, 307\n\n Lerwick, 8.\n Sloop, 211\n\n Library at Reykjavik, 152.\n at Thorshavn, 23-24\n\n Light-house north of Orkney, 214\n\n Lime juice, 151\n\n Literature, Icelandic love of, 62\n\n Little breakfast, 149\n\n Little Geyser, 107, 111, 114, 123\n\n L\u00f6bner, Miss, visit to 211\n\n L\u00f6gberg, 86-90\n\n Love of country, 145\n\n Love of truth, 298\n\n Lutheran Service at Thorshavn, 29-31\n\n\n Maelsek, 46\n\n Magna Charta, 297\n\n Magnetic stones, 137\n\n Mackenzie\u2019s, Sir George, Geyser theory, 124\n\n Markarfli\u00f3t, 177\n\n Meddomsmen, 155\n\n Meeting on the Althing, 88-89\n\n Milk diet, 97-98\n\n Mits with two thumbs, 53-54\n\n Mortality of children, 98\n\n Mosquitoes, 105\n\n Mud-caldrons, 158\n\n Municipal institutions, 297\n\n Mural precipice, 78\n\n Myrdals J\u00f6kul, 162\n\n\n Naals\u00f6e, 15, 212\n\n Naddodr, 304\n\n National Song, 144\n\n Native Manufactures of Iceland, 53\n\n Needle Rocks or Drongs, 33\n\n Nesey, 76\n\n Newspapers, 157\n\n Njal\u2019s Saga, 305.\n Scene of, 177\n\n Nordurfari, 65\n\n Norse Language, 183\n\n Norse Words, 294,\n Customs, 295\n\n Norfolk commerce with Iceland, 41\n\n Norman outgoing, 307\n\n Northern \u201cDim,\u201d 116\n\n Northmen, The, 293.\n Traces of, 294, 303.\n Invade England, 303.\n In Russia, 303.\n\n Noss, 9\n\n\n Occupations of Far\u00f6ese, 26.\n Of the Icelanders, 181.\n\n Old Nick made himself as little as he was able, 224\n\n Olfus\u00e1, 103\n\n Or\u00e6fa J\u00f6kul, 185\n\n Organ in Church at Thorshavn, 29\n\n Our Scandinavian Ancestors, 293\n\n Outfit for Iceland, 2, 289\n\n Out-door Occupations, 98\n\n Oxer\u00e1, 82, 88-90, 140.\n Waterfall of, 78\n\n\n Pack of Lava Blocks, 86\n\n P\u00e1lsson\u2019s, Rev. Olaf, Library, 60-61\n\n Parliament, Functions of, 88.\n Assembled, 152\n\n Parnassia, 94, 108\n\n Pasturage covered with ashes, 169, 172, 191\n\n Perseverance, 298\n\n Personal Liberty, 297\n\n Pet Raven, 209\n\n Petrifactions, Geyser, 108\n\n Piratical Habits, 294, 300, 303\n\n Plain, 94\n\n Plateau, 74\n\n Planters, 299\n\n Plopping Pits, 107\n\n Ploughs, 85\n\n Plover, Golden, 75, 93, 100\n\n Pluck, 301\n\n Poems on Northern Subjects, 278\n\n Poetry, Specimens of old Icelandic, 260\n\n Ponies, 51.\n Guided by the heel, 106.\n Left to shift for themselves, 106.\n Adventure of a, 158\n\n Population of Far\u00f6e, 13, 26.\n Of Iceland, 61\n\n Porpoises, 18\n\n Portland, 179, 182, 184\n\n Portland Huk, 38\n\n Premonitory symptoms of Geyser eruptions, 113\n\n Preserved salmon, 71\n\n Priest\u2019s house, 82, 90\n\n Produce, 203\n\n Ptarmigan, 100\n\n Puffins, 15\n\n Pumice, 137\n\n Puritan Fathers, 299\n\n\n Rainfall, 55-56\n\n Rake, 85\n\n Rampart, 79\n\n Randr\u00f6p, Mr., 60\n\n Range of vari-coloured hills, 94-95\n\n Raven, Tame, 204\n\n Ravine, 73\n\n Red-hot stones, 189\n\n Relay ponies, 71, 75\n\n Remembrance of Iceland, The, 147\n\n Representative parliaments, 153, 296, 304\n\n Retrospect of Icelandic travel, 215-216\n\n Reverence, 298\n\n Reydarfiord, 199, 204, 209\n\n Reykjanes, 45, 162\n\n Reykjavik, 48-68, 143.\n Library of, 63-64\n\n Ride to the Geysers, 69\n\n River disappears, 188\n\n Rock-walls, 78, 79, 82\n\n Rolling of ship, 35\n\n Rollo, 307\n\n Rover, Norse, 300\n\n Runic characters, 306\n\n Run-milk, 97\n\n\n S\u00e6mund gets the living of Oddi, 221.\n Stories of, 219\n\n Sagas, 305\n\n Salmon-preserve of Europe, Iceland the, 59.\n River, 144\n\n Salutations, 101-102\n\n Sandey, 76\n\n Sand-glasses in church at Thorshavn, 24\n\n Saula-hleith, 141\n\n Scalds, 305\n\n Scandinavian Ancestors, Our, 293\n\n Scori\u00e6, 74\n\n Scythe, 85\n\n Sea-birds, Graceful motions of, 39\n Swarms of, 40, 43\n\n Sea training, 294, 301\n\n Sea-pinks, 76, 108\n\n Sea swallows, 134\n\n Sea-fowls used as food, 16\n\n Sea-gull shot, 16\n\n Seamanship, Shetland, 301\n\n Seething clay, 112\n\n Self-denial, Self-reliance, 298\n\n Seydisfiord, 201\n\n Sheep\u2019s knee bone, 101\n\n Shetland Isles, 8-11\n\n Shoes, Icelandic, 53\n\n Showers, 76\n\n Silex, 132\n\n Silica in solution, 109\n\n Silver Trinkets, 53, 60, 150\n\n Sira, 102\n\n Sivertsen, Mr., 52-53.\n His late son, 53\n\n Skagi, 48\n\n Skapt\u00e1r J\u00f6kul, 135, 186-187.\n Eruption of, in A.D. 1783, 187-193\n\n Skialdbreid, 140\n\n Skier, 97-98, 99\n\n Skiffs of the Northmen, 302\n\n Skogar-foss, 178\n\n Skua-gulls, 15.\n Mode of obtaining fish, 37\n\n Sky darkened with dust and ashes, 166, 170, 171, 174, 189\n\n Slag, 93\n\n Slattaretind, 33\n\n Sleeping Apartment in Farm, 206\n\n Sleeping at Thingvalla, 91\n\n Smith, Dr. R. Angus, 132\n\n Smith, Icelandic use of the word, 183\n\n Sn\u00e6fell\u2019s J\u00f6kul, 47, 161\n\n Snaps, 203\n\n Snorro Sturleson, 305\n\n Snow-birds, 75, 100\n\n Sog, The, 103\n\n \u201cS\u00f3lar Lj\u00f3d,\u201d or \u201cSun Song,\u201d 262\n\n Solheima Sand formed, 165\n\n Sport, 17-18\n\n Stappen, 161\n\n Start for the Geysers, 70\n\n Statistics, 180-182\n\n Steaming Holes, 107\n\n Steward\u2019s Bell, 5\n\n Stock fish, 203\n\n Stock, Icelanders rear, 96\n\n Stony Moor, 74\n\n Store at Seydisfiord, 204\n\n Streets of Thorshavn, 21\n\n Strokr, 107, 110, 121, 123.\n Eruption of, provoked by turf, 111, 121\n\n Stromoe, 15.\n Caves on, 32, 210\n\n Stuffed Birds, 150\n\n Sulphur Banks, 158.\n Spring, 46\n\n Sumburgh Head, 8\n\n Sumpter Ponies, Mode of loading, 69\n\n Sunset, 6, 44.\n Due north, 45\n\n Surnames, 182\n\n Surturbrand, 205\n\n Sysselmen, 154\n\n\n Tabasheer, 109\n\n Temperature of Geysers, 113.\n Of Far\u00f6e, 29.\n Of Iceland, 55-58\n\n Tent in a gale, 130\n\n Terns, 75\n\n Thea, 149\n\n Thingvalla, 86, 92, 140.\n Lake of, 76, 92.\n Vale of, 77-80\n\n Thingore, 137\n\n Thi\u00f3th\u00f3lfr Newspaper, 157\n\n Thorl\u00e1ksson, 62\n\n Thorshavn, 18-31\n\n Thorlevsholm, 88\n\n Thorpe, 200\n\n Thrasi\u2019s Treasure, 178\n\n Thorwaldsen\u2019s Font, 63\n\n Thyckvaboe, 169\n\n Thyme, 94, 108\n\n Time of Henry III, 41\n\n Tints of Mountains, 47, 50.\n Peaks, Reykjavik, 160\n\n Tintron, Crater of, 93-94\n\n Toilet at the Geyser, 120\n\n Tourists, Information for intending, 2\n\n Trackless wastes, 75\n\n Tracks worn in Turf, 100\n\n Traffic, 203\n\n Trampe, Count Von, 58\n\n Transparency of Atmosphere, 141\n\n Trap Hills in Far\u00f6e, 13, 32\n\n Trial by Jury, 300\n\n Trout, 83\n\n T\u00fan, 72, 85, 96\n\n T\u00fangufljot, 103\n\n Turf-fires, 72\n\n Turf-roofs, 19, 21, 40, 49, 82, 90, 96\n\n Two-thumbed mits, 149\n\n\n Una the Fairy, 235\n\n Unpacking Traps, 83\n\n\n Vale of Thingvalla, 77-80\n\n Varder or Guiding Marks, 75\n\n Vegetables grown, 67\n\n Velvet Turf, 106\n\n Ventilation on Shipboard, 11\n\n V\u00e9ron\u2019s, Capt., Vessel, _Artemise_, 151\n\n Ver-tima, 98\n\n Vestments of the Bishop, 63\n\n Videy, 48\n\n Vikings, 301.\n Raven, The, 281\n\n Volcanic History, 193.\n Sand, 93.\n Wastes, 72\n\n V\u00f6lusp\u00e1 260\n\n\n War, Thirst for, 298\n\n Waterfalls, 39.\n Of the Oxer\u00e1, 90.\n Above Seydisfiord, 204\n\n Water-floods, 167, 172\n\n Waterfowl, Lines to, 36\n\n Westmanna Islands, 39-45.\n In the 13th and 19th century, 42-43\n\n Westmanna Skerries, 43, 44\n\n Westmannshavn, 40\n\n Whales, 179-80.\n Whale-flesh, 22.\n Rib-rafters, 72.\n Steak, 213\n\n Whirlpool at the Monk, 13\n\n Wild-flowers, 74, 88, 100, 134\n\n Wilderness, 75\n\n William the Conqueror, 307\n\n Willows, Dwarf, 91, 100, 106\n\n Witchcraft, 88\n\n Wrinkled rock surfaces, 76, 86, 139\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n Just Published, foolscap 8vo. price 5s. cloth.\n\n NEW EDITION.\n\n HAREBELL CHIMES\n\n OR\n\n SUMMER MEMORIES AND MUSINGS.\n\n BY\n\n ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON.\n\n -------\n\n _Also, by the same Author_,\n\n THE BEAUTIFUL\n\n IN\n\n NATURE, ART, AND LIFE.\n\n In 2 vols. crown 8vo. price 21s. cloth.\n\n ---------------------\n\n LONDON: LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN & ROBERTS\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n Transcriber\u2019s Notes\n\n=Note:= Use of Icelandic diacritics by the author/printer is very\ninconsistent, and usage has partly been regularized. All types of\ndiacritics which have historically not been used for Icelandic have been\nchanged, as noted below. Spelling of individual words has also been\nnormalized where there was variation. Otherwise, spelling of Icelandic\nwords has been retained.\n\nObvious misspellings of English words and printer\u2019s errors have been\nchanged. Hyphenation inconsistencies have been retained, except in cases\nwhere a predominant form has been found.\n\n Pg. vii: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skaptar J\u00f6kel\u2019 to \u2018Skapt\u00e1r J\u00f6kul\u2019\n\n Pg. vii: Punctuation consistency: \u2018on Northern Subjects.\u2019 to \u2018on\n Northern Subjects\u2019\u2014Removed period at end of TOC entry\n\n Pg. vii: Proper name consistency: \u2018K\u00f6tluja\u2019s\u2019 to \u2018K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1\u2019s\u2019\n\n Pg. vii: Corrected accent: \u2018S\u00f6lar\u2019 to \u2018S\u00f3lar\u2019\n\n Pg. viii: Corrected accent: \u2018Bruar\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Bruar\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. viii: Proper name consistency: \u2018K\u00f6tluj\u00e1\u2019 to \u2018K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 12: Repeated word: \u2018in in the time\u2019 to \u2018in the time\u2019\n\n Pg. 17: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018on-goings\u2019 to \u2018ongoings\u2019\n\n Pg. 23: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018flag-staff\u2019 to \u2018flagstaff\u2019\n\n Pg. 25: Corrected typo: \u2018posseses\u2019 to \u2018possesses\u2019\n\n Pg. 26: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018lambskin\u2019 to \u2018lamb-skin\u2019\n\n Pg. 29: Punctuation fix: \u2018Mr\u2019 to \u2018Mr.\u2019\n\n Pg. 31: Punctuation fix: \u2018Mr\u2019 to \u2018Mr.\u2019\n\n Pg. 37: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018zigzagging\u2019 to \u2018zig-zagging\u2019\n\n Pg. 38: Corrected typo: \u2018ROCKSOFF--\u2019 to \u2018ROCKS--OFF\u2019\n\n Pg. 43: Proper name consistency: \u2018Aladin\u2019 to \u2018Aladdin\u2019\n\n Pg. 47: Proper name consistency: \u2018Guldbringe\u2019 to \u2018Guldbringu\u2019\n\n Pg. 48: Punctuation fix: \u2018their nests are lined\u2019 to \u2018their nests are\n lined.\u2019\u2014Added missing period at para end\n\n Pg. 49: Proper name consistency: \u2018Gudmundson\u2019 to \u2018Gudmundsson\u2019\n\n Pg. 49: Proper name consistency: \u2018Hjaltelin\u2019 to \u2018Hjaltalin\u2019\n\n Pg. 52: Punctuation fix: \u2018cleanliness comfort and refinement\u2019 to\n \u2018cleanliness, comfort and refinement\u2019\u2014Added missing comma\n\n Pg. 55: Repeated word: \u2018the the\u2019 to \u2018the\u2019\n\n Pg. 60: Corrected typo: \u2018fastideous\u2019 to \u2018fastidious\u2019\n\n Pg. 62: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018fire-side\u2019 to \u2018fireside\u2019\n\n Pg. 64: Corrected typo: \u2018substanial\u2019 to \u2018substantial\u2019\n\n Pg. 64: Corrected typo: \u2018supplimented\u2019 to \u2018supplemented\u2019\n\n Pg. 65: Corrected typo: \u2018\u00f3rfj\u00e1lsum\u2019 to \u2018\u00f3frj\u00e1lsum\u2019\n\n Pg. 66: Corrected typo: \u2018sgiri\u2019 to \u2018sigri\u2019\n\n Pg. 66: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018church-yard\u2019 to \u2018churchyard\u2019\n\n Pg. 66: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018buttercups\u2019 to \u2018butter-cups\u2019\n\n Pg. 66: Proper name consistency: \u2018Hjaltelin\u2019 to \u2018Hjaltalin\u2019\n\n Pg. 66: Corrected accent: \u2018h\u00f6gg\u00ed\u2019 to \u2018h\u00f6ggi\u2019\n\n Pg. 70: Corrected typo: \u2018at each others\u2019 to \u2018at each other\u2019s\u2019\u2014Added\n missing apostrophe\n\n Pg. 76: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018sea pink\u2019 to \u2018sea-pink\u2019\n\n Pg. 78: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Oxer\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Oxer\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 81: Proper name consistency: \u2018ALMANNAGJA\u2019 to \u2018ALMANNA GJ\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 81: Proper name consistency: \u2018ALMANNAGJA\u2019 to \u2018ALMANNA GJ\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 82: Proper name consistency: \u2018Oxer\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Oxer\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 83: Proper name consistency: \u2018OXERA\u2019 to \u2018OXER\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 84: Proper name consistency: \u2018Shakspeare\u2019s \u2019 to \u2018Shakspere\u2019s \u2019\n\n Pg. 85: Corrected accent: \u2018tuns\u2019 to \u2018t\u00fans\u2019\n\n Pg. 86: Punctuation fix: \u2018conceivable direction,\u2019 to \u2018conceivable\n direction.\u2019\u2014Comma at para end\n\n Pg. 90: Proper name consistency: \u2018OXERA\u2019 to \u2018OXER\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 94: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018hillside\u2019 to \u2018hill-side\u2019\n\n Pg. 96: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Lauger-vatn\u2019 to \u2018Laugervatn\u2019\n\n Pg. 96: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Apa-vatn\u2019 to \u2018Apavatn\u2019\n\n Pg. 96: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Lauger-vatn\u2019 to \u2018Laugervatn\u2019\n\n Pg. 97: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018stockfish\u2019 to \u2018stock-fish\u2019\n\n Pg. 102: Corrected accent: \u2018th\u00e8r\u2019 to \u2018th\u00e9r\u2019\n\n Pg. 102: Corrected accent: \u2018th\u00e8r\u2019 to \u2018th\u00e9r\u2019\n\n Pg. 105: Corrected accent: \u2018BRUARA\u00b4\u2019 to \u2018BRUAR\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 106: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018head-land\u2019 to \u2018headland\u2019\n\n Pg. 112: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skaptar\u2019 to \u2018Skapt\u00e1r\u2019\n\n Pg. 115: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018day-light\u2019 to \u2018daylight\u2019\n\n Pg. 116: Spelling consistency: \u2018Igdrasill\u2019 to \u2018Yggdrasill\u2019\n\n Pg. 117: Corrected typo: \u2018minature\u2019 to \u2018miniature\u2019\n\n Pg. 125: Corrected accent: \u2018Landn\u00e0mabok\u2019 to \u2018Landn\u00e1mabok\u2019\n\n Pg. 129: Corrected typo: \u2018asteriods\u2019 to \u2018asteroids\u2019\n\n Pg. 134: Proper name consistency: \u2018SKAPTAR\u2019 to \u2018SKAPT\u00c1R\u2019\n\n Pg. 135: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skaptar\u2019 to \u2018Skapt\u00e1r\u2019\n\n Pg. 138: Missing punctuation: \u2018Far\u00f6e Islands. pp 30\u2019 to \u2018Far\u00f6e Islands,\n pp 30\u2019\u2014Period for comma\n\n Pg. 140: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Oxer\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Oxer\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 146: Corrected typo: \u2018girnmunst\u2019 to \u2018girnumst\u2019\n\n Pg. 147: Corrected typo: \u2018vir\u2019 to \u2018v\u00e9r\u2019\n\n Pg. 148: Proper name consistency: \u2018R\u00e4ndrop\u2019 to \u2018Randr\u00f6p\u2019\n\n Pg. 148: Proper name consistency: \u2018R\u00e4ndrop\u2019 to \u2018Randr\u00f6p\u2019\n\n Pg. 154: Spelling consistency: \u2018amtmen\u2019 to \u2018amptmen\u2019\n\n Pg. 156: Punctuation fix: \u2018312-323\u2019 to \u2018312-323.\u2019\u2014Added missing period\n\n Pg. 157: Corrected accent: \u2018Thi\u00f6th\u00f6lfr\u2019 to \u2018Thi\u00f3th\u00f3lfr\u2019\n\n Pg. 158: Corrected typo: \u2018Kleiservatn\u2019 to \u2018Kleifervatn\u2019\n\n Pg. 159: Corrected typo: \u2018Bryuj\u00falfsson\u2019 to \u2018Brynj\u00falfsson\u2019\n\n Pg. 161: Corrected accent: \u2018JOKUL\u2019 to \u2018J\u00d6KUL\u2019\u2014Added diaeresis for\n consistency\n\n Pg. 163: Corrected typo: \u2018Elldborg\u2019 to \u2018Eldborg\u2019\n\n Pg. 163: Apostrophe usage: \u2018K\u00d6TLUGJ\u00c1S\u2019 to \u2018K\u00d6TLUGJ\u00c1\u2019S\u2019\n\n Pg. 164: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018waterfloods\u2019 to \u2018water-floods\u2019\n\n Pg. 166: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018waterfloods\u2019 to \u2018water-floods\u2019\n\n Pg. 166: Corrected accent: \u2018K\u00f6tlugj\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 166: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018waterfloods\u2019 to \u2018water-floods\u2019\n\n Pg. 167: Corrected typo: \u2018Eyaffialla\u2019 to \u2018Eyafialla\u2019\n\n Pg. 167: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skaptafells-syssel\u2019 to\n \u2018Skapt\u00e1fells-syssel\u2019\n\n Pg. 167: Quote placement: \u2018has ever occurred.\u2019 to \u2018has ever\n occurred.\u201d\u2019\u2014Added missing close-quote to quote end\n\n Pg. 171: Corrected typo: \u2018Hsfrsey\u2019 to \u2018Hafrsey\u2019\n\n Pg. 171: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018west-ward\u2019 to \u2018westward\u2019\n\n Pg. 171: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018east-ward\u2019 to \u2018eastward\u2019\n\n Pg. 171: Punctuation fix: \u2018issue from K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1,\u2019 to \u2018issue from\n K\u00f6tlugj\u00e1.\u2019\u2014Comma for period\n\n Pg. 172: Corrected typo: \u2018counrty\u2019 to \u2018country\u2019\n\n Pg. 173: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018over-flowed\u2019 to \u2018overflowed\u2019\n\n Pg. 176: Duplicate word: \u2018the the\u2019 to \u2018the\u2019\n\n Pg. 176: Proper name consistency: \u2018Guldbring\u00e9\u2019 to \u2018Guldbringu\u2019\n\n Pg. 176: Quote placement: \u201880 to 90 miles distant.\u201d\u2019 to \u201880 to 90 miles\n distant.\u2019\u2014Removed extra close-quote\n\n Pg. 177: Proper name consistency: \u2018Guldbring\u00e9\u2019 to \u2018Guldbringu\u2019\n\n Pg. 177: Proper name consistency: \u2018Markarfl\u00ed\u00f3t\u2019 to \u2018Markarfli\u00f3t\u2019\n\n Pg. 178: Corrected accent: \u2018a\u00fadug\u2019 to \u2018audug\u2019\n\n Pg. 178: Corrected accent: \u2018Fiflsk\u00f9\u2019 to \u2018Fiflsku\u2019\n\n Pg. 178: Spelling consistency: \u2018th\u00e1ngast\u2019 to \u2018th\u00e1ngad\u2019\n\n Pg. 182: Proper name consistency: \u2018Huc\u2019 to \u2018Huk\u2019\n\n Pg. 183: Corrected accent: \u2018sk\u00f6rsmidr\u2019 to \u2018sk\u00f3rsmidr\u2019\n\n Pg. 184: Corrected accent: \u2018JOKUL\u2019 to \u2018J\u00d6KUL\u2019\u2014Added diaeresis for\n consistency\n\n Pg. 184: Corrected accent: \u2018KOTLUGJA\u2019 to \u2018K\u00d6TLUGJ\u00c1\u2019\u2014Added diaeresis for\n consistency\n\n Pg. 185: Corrected accent: \u2018JOKUL\u2019 to \u2018J\u00d6KUL\u2019\u2014Added diaeresis for\n consistency\n\n Pg. 187: Proper name consistency: \u2018SKAPTAR\u2019 to \u2018SKAPT\u00c1R\u2019\n\n Pg. 189: Corrected typo: \u2018distingushed\u2019 to \u2018distinguished\u2019\n\n Pg. 189: Extra punctuation: \u2018lava. continued\u2019 to \u2018lava\n continued\u2019\u2014Removed extra period\n\n Pg. 194: Proper name consistency: \u2018Elldborg\u2019 to \u2018Eldborg\u2019\n\n Pg. 194: Proper name consistency: \u2018Guldbring\u00e9\u2019 to \u2018Guldbringu\u2019\n\n Pg. 195: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skeider\u00e6\u2019 to \u2018Skeidar\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 195: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skeider\u00e6\u2019 to \u2018Skeidar\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 196: Proper name consistency: \u2018Elldborg\u2019 to \u2018Eldborg\u2019\n\n Pg. 196: Corrected typo: \u2018Heinabegr\u2019s\u2019 to \u2018Heinaberg\u2019s\u2019\n\n Pg. 196: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skeidar\u00e6\u2019 to \u2018Skeidar\u00e1r\u2019\n\n Pg. 197: Proper name consistency: \u2018Briedamerkasandr\u2019 to\n \u2018Breidamerkr-sandr\u2019\n\n Pg. 197: Proper name consistency: \u2018Breidamerks\u2019 to \u2018Breidamerkr\u2019\n\n Pg. 190: Corrected typo: \u2018Skupta\u00e0\u2019 to \u2018Skapta\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 199: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Breida-fiords\u2019 to \u2018Breida fiords\u2019\n\n Pg. 205: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Buttercups\u2019 to \u2018Butter-cups\u2019\n\n Pg. 208: Chapter / TOC consistency: \u2018N/A\u2019 to \u2018SEYDISFIORD, BY FAR\u00d6E TO\n LEITH\u2019\u2014Added section heading where indicated in TOC\n\n Pg. 209: Corrected typo: \u2018similiar\u2019 to \u2018similar\u2019\n\n Pg. 215: Punctuation fix: \u2018breakfast on board,\u2019 to \u2018breakfast on\n board.\u2019\u2014Comma at end of sentence\n\n Pg. 219: Corrected accent: \u2018PALSSON\u2019 to \u2018P\u00c1LSSON\u2019\n\n Pg. 220: Proper name consistency: \u2018Kalfar\u2019 to \u2018Kalfur\u2019\n\n Pg. 221: Corrected typo: \u2018dont\u2019 to \u2018don\u2019t\u2019\n\n Pg. 221: Heading consistency: \u2018II.--S\u00c6MUND GETS\u2019 to \u2018II. S\u00c6MUND\n GETS\u2019\u2014Removed em-dash in section title to match other headers\n\n Pg. 226: Proper name consistency: \u2018A. J. S.\u2019 to \u2018A.J.S.\u2019\u2014Usually\n without spaces\n\n Pg. 228: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Iceland moss\u2019 to \u2018Iceland-moss\u2019\n\n Pg. 228: Corrected typo: \u2018wont\u2019 to \u2018won\u2019t\u2019\n\n Pg. 229: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skagafi\u00f6rd\u2019 to \u2018Skagafiord\u2019\n\n Pg. 232: Corrected typo: \u2018wont\u2019 to \u2018won\u2019t\u2019\n\n Pg. 234: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skagafi\u00f6rd\u2019 to \u2018Skagafiord\u2019\n\n Pg. 234: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skagafi\u00f6rd\u2019 to \u2018Skagafiord\u2019\n\n Pg. 235: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skagafi\u00f6rd\u2019 to \u2018Skagafiord\u2019\n\n Pg. 236: Corrected typo: \u2018dont\u2019 to \u2018don\u2019t\u2019\n\n Pg. 239: Missing punctuation : \u2018such a rib as this\u2019 to \u2018such a rib as\n this?\u2019\u2014Added missing \u2018?\u2019 at para end\n\n Pg. 241: Corrected typo: \u2018wont\u2019 to \u2018won\u2019t\u2019\n\n Pg. 242: Missing punctuation : \u2018if she does\u2019 to \u2018\u201cif she does\u2019\u2014Added\n missing opening quotation mark\n\n Pg. 252: Corrected typo: \u2018Fairies\u2019\u2019 to \u2018Fairies\u2019\n\n Pg. 254: Corrected typo: \u2018dont\u2019 to \u2018don\u2019t\u2019\n\n Pg. 255: Corrected typo: \u2018parishoners\u2019 to \u2018parishioners\u2019\n\n Pg. 259: Quote placement: \u2018little porridge pot.\u2019 to \u2018little porridge\n pot.\u201d\u2019\u2014Added missing close-quote at quote end\n\n Pg. 260: Proper name consistency: \u2018Volu\u2019 to \u2018V\u00f6lu\u2019\n\n Pg. 260: Proper name consistency: \u2018Vola\u2019 to \u2018Vala\u2019\u2014Nominative form\n corrected, see next sentence\n\n Pg. 260: Chapter / TOC consistency: \u2018N/A\u2019 to \u2018FROM THE \u201cV\u00d6LUSP\u00c1\u201d\u2019\u2014Added\n section heading where indicated in TOC\n\n Pg. 261: Corrected typo: \u2018Gjallarborn\u2019 to \u2018Gjallarhorn\u2019\n\n Pg. 261: Corrected typo: \u2018Nigh\u00f6gg\u2019 to \u2018Nidh\u00f6gg\u2019\n\n Pg. 262: Chapter / TOC consistency: \u2018N/A\u2019 to \u2018FROM THE \u201cS\u00d3LAR\n LJ\u00d3D\u201d\u2019\u2014Added section heading where indicated in TOC\n\n Pg. 264: Quote placement: \u2018this Sun\u2019s Song!\u2019 to \u2018this Sun\u2019s\n Song!\u201d\u2019\u2014Added missing close-quote at poem end\n\n Pg. 265: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Niebelungen lied\u2019 to\n \u2018Niebelungen-lied\u2019\n\n Pg. 265: Corrected typo: \u2018illustrions\u2019 to \u2018illustrious\u2019\n\n Pg. 265: Corrected typo: \u2018mornfully\u2019 to \u2018mournfully\u2019\n\n Pg. 265: Quote placement: \u2018Odin\u2019s High Song\u2019 to \u2018\u201cOdin\u2019s High\n Song\u2019\u2014Added missing open-quote at quote beginning\n\n Pg. 265: Chapter / TOC consistency: \u2018N/A\u2019 to \u2018FROM THE POEMS RELATING\n TO SIGURD & BRYNHILD.\u2019\u2014Added section heading where indicated in TOC\n\n Pg. 267: Missing punctuation : \u2018the man speaks his mind\u2019 to \u2018the man\n speaks his mind.\u2019\u2014Missing period added at stanza end\n\n Pg. 269: Repeated word: \u2018and and a straw-rick\u2019 to \u2018and a straw-rick\u2019\n\n Pg. 272: Missing punctuation: \u2018live without crime\u2019 to \u2018live without\n crime.\u2019\u2014Missing period added at stanza end\n\n Pg. 274: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018fire-wood\u2019 to \u2018firewood\u2019\n\n Pg. 274: Missing punctuation: \u2018in her breast\u2019 to \u2018in her\n breast.\u2019\u2014Missing period added at stanza end\n\n Pg. 275: Corrected typo: \u2018CXII\u2019 to \u2018XCII\u2019\n\n Pg. 277: Quote placement: \u2018Gunl\u00f6d is weeping.\u2019 to \u2018Gunl\u00f6d is\n weeping.\u201d\u2019\u2014Added missing close-quote at poem end\n\n Pg. 279: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u2019shafs\u2019 to \u2018\u00cdshafs\u2019\n\n Pg. 279: Corrected accent: \u2018O\u2019lmar\u2019 to \u2018\u00d3lmar\u2019\n\n Pg. 279: Proper name consistency: \u2018Thorlakson\u2019 to \u2018Thorl\u00e1ksson\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected typo: \u2018Og\u00f6ruggar\u2019 to \u2018Og \u00f6ruggar\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u2019brj\u00f3sti\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd brj\u00f3sti\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected accent: \u2018A\u00b4\u2019 to \u2018\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected typo: \u2018Horrfiun\u2019 to \u2018Horrfinn\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u2019v\u00f6ggu\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd v\u00f6ggu\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected accent: \u2018A\u00b4\u2019 to \u2018\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected typo: \u2018\u00fea\u00f0a\u00f0\u2019 to \u2018\u00fea\u00f0 a\u00f0\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u2019talska\u2019 to \u2018\u00cdtalska\u2019\n\n Pg. 280: Corrected typo: \u2018semheyri\u2019 to \u2018sem heyri\u2019\n\n Pg. 281: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u2019mekkjum\u2019 to \u2018\u00cdmekkjum\u2019\n\n Pg. 281: Proper name consistency: \u2018Hiatland\u2019 to \u2018Hialtland\u2019\n\n Pg. 281: Corrected typo: \u2018Ogaldinn\u2019 to \u2018Og aldinn\u2019\n\n Pg. 281: Corrected accent: \u2018\u00feer\u2019 to \u2018\u00fe\u00e9r\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018\u00fe\u00e8r\u2019 to \u2018\u00fe\u00e9r\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018Skj\u00f6tt\u2019 to \u2018Skj\u00f3tt\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected typo: \u2018h\u00farsa\u2019 to \u2018h\u00fasa\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018A\u00b4\u2019 to \u2018\u00c1\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected typo: \u2018b\u0153\u00f0i\u2019 to \u2018b\u00e6\u00f0i\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018O\u00b4\u2019 to \u2018\u00d3\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u00b4\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018Fo\u00b4tum\u2019 to \u2018F\u00f3tum\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u00b4\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd\u2019\n\n Pg. 287: Corrected accent: \u2018b\u00f9i\u00f0\u2019 to \u2018b\u00fai\u00f0\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected typo: \u2018Ogd\u00f6kkvir\u2019 to \u2018Og d\u00f6kkvir\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected typo: \u2018M\u00e6ki\u2019 to \u2018M\u0153ki\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected typo: \u2018Ir\u00e1\u2019 to \u2018Fr\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018O\u00b4mur\u2019 to \u2018\u00d3mur\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018A\u00b4vita\u2019 to \u2018\u00c1 vita\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018O\u00b4\u00f0ins\u2019 to \u2018\u00d3\u00f0ins\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018A\u00b4skipi\u2019 to \u2018\u00c1 skipi\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u00b4marar\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd marar\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u00b4ni\u00f0myrkvu\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd ni\u00f0myrkvu\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u00b4blindmyrkri\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd blindmyrkri\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018I\u00b4\u00f3gna\u2019 to \u2018\u00cd \u00f3gna\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected accent: \u2018O\u00b4\u00f0inn\u2019 to \u2018\u00d3\u00f0inn\u2019\n\n Pg. 288: Corrected typo: \u2018myskbl\u00e1u\u2019 to \u2018myrkbl\u00e1u\u2019\n\n Pg. 292: Corrected accent: \u2018s\u1ef3sla\u2019 to \u2018sysla\u2019\n\n Pg. 292: Corrected accent: \u2018s\u1ef3ssel\u2019 to \u2018syssel\u2019\n\n Pg. 292: Punctuation fix: \u2018lava,\u2019 to \u2018lava.\u2019\u2014Comma for period at entry\n end\n\n Pg. 292: Corrected accent: \u2018flj\u00f6t\u2019 to \u2018flj\u00f3t\u2019\n\n Pg. 295: Proper name consistency: \u2018Caesar\u2019 to \u2018C\u00e6sar\u2019\n\n Pg. 304: Corrected typo: \u2018flourshing\u2019 to \u2018flourishing\u2019\n\n Pg. 305: Proper name consistency: \u2018eddas\u2019 to \u2018Eddas\u2019\u2014Capitalised\n elsewhere\n\n Pg. 305: Proper name consistency: \u2018eddas\u2019 to \u2018Eddas\u2019\u2014Capitalised\n elsewhere\n\n Pg. 309: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Blaeberries\u2019 to \u2018Blae-berries\u2019\n\n Pg. 306: Proper name consistency: \u2018Skalholt\u2019 to \u2018Sk\u00e1lholt\u2019\n\n Pg. 307: Spelling consistency: \u2018Biarne\u2019 to \u2018Biarni\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Proper name consistency: \u2018Almanna Gj\u00e1\u2019 to \u2018Almannagj\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Proper name consistency: \u2018Ailsay\u2019 to \u2018Ailsa\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Icedrift\u2019 to \u2018Ice-drift\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Corrected accent: \u2018Hrafnagj\u00e0\u2019 to \u2018Hrafnagj\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Corrected accent: \u2018Bruar\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Bruar\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Corrected accent: \u2018Bruar\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Bruar\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Proper name consistency: \u2018Salvor\u2019 to \u2018Salv\u00f6r\u2019\n\n Pg. 309: Proper name consistency: \u2018Breidamerks\u2019 to \u2018Breidamerkr\u2019\n\n Pg. 310: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018re-building\u2019 to \u2018rebuilding\u2019\n\n Pg. 310: Missing punctuation: \u2018days 296\u2019 to \u2018days, 296\u2019\u2014Added comma\n before pg. number\n\n Pg. 310: Missing punctuation: \u201826\u2019 to \u201826.\u2019\u2014Added missing period at end\n of index subentry\n\n Pg. 310: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Einars-dr\u00e1ngr\u2019 to \u2018Einarsdr\u00e1ngr\u2019\n\n Pg. 311: Corrected pg. reference in index: \u2018265\u2019 to \u2018266\u2019\n\n Pg. 311: Corrected accent: \u2018t\u00fbns\u2019 to \u2018t\u00fans\u2019\n\n Pg. 311: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018surefooted\u2019 to \u2018sure-footed\u2019\n\n Pg. 311: Proper name consistency: \u2018Goldbring\u00e9\u2019 to \u2018Guldbringu\u2019\n\n Pg. 311: Proper name consistency: \u2018Gr\u0153nvatn\u2019 to \u2018Gr\u0153navatn\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Hvit\u00e0\u2019 to \u2018Hvit\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Icedrift\u2019 to \u2018Ice-drift\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018In door occupations\u2019 to \u2018indoor\n occupations\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Corrected typo: \u2018Kleiservatn\u2019 to \u2018Kleifervatn\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Lighthouse\u2019 to \u2018Light-house\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Proper name consistency: \u2018Hrafna Gj\u00e1\u2019 to \u2018Hrafnagj\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Proper name consistency: \u2018Logberg\u2019 to \u2018L\u00f6gberg\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Proper name consistency: \u2018Markarfliot\u2019 to \u2018Markarfli\u00f3t\u2019\n\n Pg. 312: Proper name consistency: \u2018Landfogged\u2019 to \u2018Landfoged\u2019\n\n Pg. 313: Corrected accent: \u2018Oxer\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Oxer\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 313: Punctuation fix: \u2018Plain, 94.\u2019 to \u2018Plain, 94\u2019\u2014Extra punctuation\n at entry end\n\n Pg. 313: Punctuation fix: \u2018Plateau, 74.\u2019 to \u2018Plateau, 74\u2019\u2014Extra\n punctuation at entry end\n\n Pg. 313: Punctuation fix: \u2018Pits, 107.\u2019 to \u2018Pits, 107\u2019\u2014Extra punctuation\n at entry end\n\n Pg. 314: Missing punctuation: \u2018140\u2019 to \u2018140.\u2019\u2014Added missing period at\n end of index subentry\n\n Pg. 314: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018sea pinks\u2019 to \u2018sea-pinks\u2019\n\n Pg. 314: Corrected accent: \u2018Thi\u00f6th\u00f6lfr\u2019 to \u2018Thi\u00f3th\u00f3lfr\u2019\n\n Pg. 315: Corrected accent: \u2018T\u00fbn\u2019 to \u2018T\u00fan\u2019\n\n Pg. 315: Corrected accent: \u2018Bruar\u00e2\u2019 to \u2018Bruar\u00e1\u2019\n\n Pg. 315: Hyphenation consistency: \u2018Waterfloods\u2019 to \u2018Water-floods\u2019","title":"Pen and pencil sketches of Far\u00f6e and Iceland : $b With an appendix containing translations from the Icelandic and 51 illustrations engraved on wood by W. J. Linton","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":85129}