glacier, which once occupied the site of the existing fjord. This 'Eyri,' or spit of land, runs out from the western shore of the fjord, and almost reaches the opposite bank, leaving only a narrow, deep channel close to the precipitous cliffs of basaltic trap, rising on every side to a height of 2,000 feet, so close in fact that it seems as if the avalanches of stones, which frequently descend from the rocky terraces, might fall on the decks of a passing vessel, or even on the houses of Ísafjörðr.

These houses are built entirely of wood, unlike the ordinary farmhouses or 'Bærs' of Iceland, are brightly painted, and with the red and white Dannebrog, the flag of Denmark, fluttering everywhere in honour of the 'Diana,' the little town presented quite a gay appearance, as we galloped through the stacks of dried fish, piled high on every side. Our guide was the local pilot, a lively veteran of seventytwo, and we had three capital ponies, sure-footed, good-tempered, and willing. The guide's pony was rather too willing, for in his case the brisk canter, with which we started, soon developed into a gallop, and he tore past us at full speed. There is but little ground in Iceland suitable for racing purposes, and very soon horse and man rolled over in a soft green bog, into which our guide, unable to restrain his gallant little charger, found it necessary to direct his career. This was a bad start, but the fall had a sobering effect upon both, and when extricated they gradually restored our shaken confidence by their successful pilotage amid bogs, torrents, and snow-drifts.

The main difficulty in Icelandic travelling is to find ground firm enough to bear a horse and his rider, and the safest track is often along the sea-beach, where that is available, or even in the bed of a stream. Water is everywhere, and the traveller constantly crosses fords, either in the river whose course he is following, or through torrents rushing down from the fjeld on either side. The pass over which we had to ride is about 1,500 feet high, and in the month of June the divide' was still blocked with snow. 6 This snow was hard

enough to bear a man or a pony, but in many places it would give way beneath them, when both on the same set of feet, and in consequence the captain and I did a good deal of walking. The old guide, however, stuck to his steed, except when obliged to cross a torrent on a precarious bridge of snow, and they managed to flounder triumphantly through all difficulties. An Icelander in

riding uses neither whip nor spur, but works his arms and legs purpetually like the sails of a windmill, and can thus keep his pony moving at a pace which leaves the foreigner far in the rear.

On the quiet waters of the fjord the eider-ducks were taking their newly hatched broods for a first swim, and as we scrambled up the fjeld, the cock ptarmigan fluttered and croaked over our heads, according to his habit when the hen is sitting upon eggs. The region of forests, represented by dwarf birches and whortleberries, is soon VOL. VIII.-No. 42.

Q

left behind, and near the summit of the pass there is hardly any vege→ tation of a higher order than Icelandic moss, while the bare rocks are profusely marked with striations from glaciers that have long since disappeared.

Descending towards the head of a small salt-water loch or firth, the Súgandafjörör, we came upon a little herd of piebald and creamcoloured ponies, and soon afterwards reached the solitary farm of this remote and desolate region.

Frowning black precipices enclose the little land-locked bay, and the scanty pastures upon its shores, so as apparently to cut off all communication with the outer world; and in winter, when snow lies deep on the fjeld, and ice blocks up the fjord, the inhabitants of this lonely glen are indeed thrown very much upon their own resources. Even in summer a visitor is a very rare bird indeed, and the sight of a Danish gentleman is as strange to these simple folk as that of an Englishman, so that our arrival excited intense interest. A Dreng (boy) was told off to show us the spot where the Surturbrandr has been exposed by the action of a mountain torrent, about 400 feet above the sea. The lignite is in thin layers, mixed with slaty rock; it is partly carbonised, partly in the condition of ordinary wood, with the bark still adhering, but infiltrated with a certain amount of mineral matter; over it lie enormous masses of basaltic rock.

Returning to the farm we ate our luncheon, sharing it with the admiring crowd of youngsters-Gisli, Hjalmar, Thora, Gudrun, &c. who surrounded us. Like the modern Greeks, the Icelanders delight in naming their children after men and women whose names are associated with the heroic period of their country's history. It was quite touching to witness the delight of these children at seeing certain pictures of the Illustrated London News, in which our food had been packed. We gave them both the papers and their contents; but, although hard-boiled eggs and ham sandwiches must have been rare dainties to them, the elder children evidently thought far more of the pictures, and pounced upon these with the eager love of knowledge conspicuous in Icelanders, who are full of admiration at the sight of things new and strange-a characteristic of intelligent races all the world over. We could only regret that so much capacity for intellectual enjoyment should be wasted in this wilderness, and that we had nothing better to give them in the way of literature than fragments of a foreign newspaper.

All the able-bodied men were absent from home, engaged either in fishing or looking after sheep; but their wives did the honours of the place, and supplied us with hot coffee. On their invitation we inspected the interior of their dwelling, which externally looks like a mere heap of stones and turf, with a chimney and one or two panes of glass. On the ground floor are the Eld-hús (fire-house' or kitchen), and store rooms, all very dark and dirty. The family resi

dence is in the 'Baðstofa' ('bath-room,' a sad misnomer at the present day), which is reached by means of a ladder, and is dimly lighted, but not ventilated, by a small window hermetically closed. Here, in a low-roofed, narrow garret, is the abode of the whole clan, numbering some five-and-twenty souls of every age and either sex. Along the sides of the room are placed the beds, but the obscuritywhich was increased by the festoons of stockings and other garments suspended from the rafters—at first prevented our making out whether these were occupied or not.

Our eyes became accustomed to the lack of light more readily than our nostrils to the lack of fresh air, and we gradually discovered the inmates of the apartment.

On one bed sat a blind old woman knitting, with an old man, her husband and the patriarch of the family, seated beside her; he received us politely, and entered into conversation in Danish, which is a foreign language in Iceland, but is generally understood throughout the island. On the opposite bed one of the younger women disclosed to our view, with maternal pride, a pretty little sleeping 'Pige' (girl), and in a cradle alongside lay another new-born infant. From a particularly dark corner proceeded sounds of feeble moaning, and on closer inspection we were able to make out that these proceeded from a very old woman, evidently as near to the close of her life as the two infants were to the commencement of theirs-Last stage of all, that ends this sad eventful history.' Thus within this narrow space the seven ages of man were all represented, most of them by the female sex only, as there was no male on the premises intermediate in age between the school-boy and the slippered pantaloon.' At the door of the only human habitation passed in the course of to-day's ride between Ísafjörðr and Súgandafjörðr we saw an old man of eighty basking in the sun; and altogether it is clear that crowded, unwholesome dwellings, together with a somewhat free indulgence in stimulants, and a very severe climate, do not prevent the hardy Icelanders from attaining a good old age. The discomfort of living in such a hovel amidst damp, darkness, and evil smells can hardly be surpassed, and yet our friends at Súgandafjörðr must not be regarded as really poor. They possess plenty of live stock in the form of ponies and sheep, they have always enough to eat, they are warmly clothed, and they can even indulge in such exotic luxuries as snuff, coffee, and loaf

sugar.

They might easily build better babitations, following the example of the Danish merchants and other settlers, whose clean, airy houses, adorned with flowers and pictures, present a striking contrast to those of their Icelandic neighbours. But the modern Icelander prefers the rude architecture of his ancestors; he therefore continues to build in a style which enables one to realise at the present day the domestic economy of a Sutherland Pict's house.'

We parted after a general hand-shaking with old and young; kissing is a customary salutation in Iceland, but from this, under all the circumstances, we were not sorry to be excused upon the present occasion. It was otherwise at Reykjavík, where a pretty little 'Stulka' (young lady), running out into the street, persuaded me to come in and look at specimens of her embroidery in gold and silver thread; of course I bought one, and she shook hands with me cordially upon the bargain, but I should have preferred in that case the Icelandic salute. As a matter of fact, however, it is between men that this form of greeting is most common, and in so democratic a country it is peculiarly inconvenient. I have been greatly amused at witnessing the annoyance of an accomplished and reverend gentleman, just returned to his native shores from a trip to Scotland and Denmark, when a snuffy old fisherman attempted to kiss him in the street: he availed himself of his superior stature, and pretended not to notice that his humble friend wished thus to testify his esteem for the parson.

Perhaps in no country is social equality more complete than in Iceland; the priest indeed enjoys a certain rank and distinction, along with the title of 'Sira,' but even the governor himself, whose office is one of power as well as of dignity, is liable to have his hand grasped by farmer or fisherman with the familiar inquiry: How are you, Finsen?'

Nothing peculiar in the way of national costume is now worn in Iceland by men, except that they encase their hands in woollen mittens with double thumbs, and their feet in moccasins and leggings of untanned sheepskin. The women, however, invariably wear a small cap of black cloth with a long silken tassel ornamented in gold or silver. This cap is worn jauntily on one side, and is fastened with pins to the hair, which is plaited around the head in elaborate loops and coils. As the hair is usually fair and abundant, this forms a very becoming headdress; but out of doors it is concealed by a dark shawl wrapped round the head and partially veiling the face. The analogies between Iceland and Greece are numerous and striking, unlike as the two countries at first sight appear, and it is remarkable that the Athenian bourgeoise' wears a cap almost identical, except in its red colour, with that worn by Icelandic women of all classes.

Travelling is similar in Greece and in Iceland-both countries are devoid of roads, and are much intersected with arms of the sea; in both locomotion involves long rides among barren mountains, and the total absence of inns, except at a few points on the sea-coast, makes the traveller dependent upon his own resources, or upon the hospitality of the country people. As I happened to visit both Iceland and Greece within the space of a few months, the analogy between them was to me peculiarly striking; and in both countries my otherwise solitary rides were enlivened by the company of a first-class

specimen of the native youth acting as guide and interpreter. Of each it may be truly said that he was a good scholar, speaking several languages fluently, familiar with the history and literature of his country, proud of its fame in the past, and zealous for its interests in the present and future.

It would be absurd to compare the ancient fame of Iceland with that of Greece-in arts, in arms, and in song, Hellas stands pre-eminent; but even in the far North gallant deeds and poetic genius have made classic ground of almost every habitable spot, and, like the cultivated Greek, the Icelander lives much in the past, knowing well that, whatever benefits the future may have in store for his race, it can never again occupy its former conspicuous position upon the world's stage.

Although patriotic natives have styled Iceland 'the best country on which the sun shines,' it must be regarded by impartial strangers as one of the worst that has ever been inhabited by civilised human beings. Peopled originally by some of the boldest and most energetic individuals of a peculiarly bold and energetic race, it 'shone, a northern light, when all was gloom around.' All the natural disadvantages of their situation were insufficient to quell the spirit of the Icelanders, so long as their dependence was on themselves alone, but it cannot be denied that their energy has diminished under foreign rule.

The language, laws, and traditions of Iceland are distinct from those of Denmark, and it is too remote in situation to be governed properly as an integral portion of the Danish kingdom. So remote is it, without a telegraph cable, and with infrequent mail steamers, that during a summer month, spent there at the time of a European crisis, no news reached us from the outside world, and no one in the island knew whether there was peace or war in Europe.

In a country so poor as Iceland the down of the eider-duck is an appreciable source of wealth, and the bird has been practically domesticated. Close to every little Handel-stad, or trading station, if there is a convenient island, there is sure to be a colony of eider-ducks, and the birds are to be seen by hundreds, swimming and fluttering about their island home, or squatted upon its shores in conscious security from the foxes, which infest the mainland.

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The eider-ducks are protected all the year round under heavy penalties, being the only birds enjoying legal protection in Iceland, and they prefer the neighbourhood of human habitations for their breeding places. From the largest of these duckeries' as much as 300l. is cleared annually, the down being worth about a sovereign per pound on an average; but we were surprised to hear that its value was a little depressed in 1878, owing to the war in Turkey.

The ducks make their nests among the rough hummocks, characteristic of all grass-land in Iceland, laying their large, olive-green