CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIIIGILSBAKKI TO STATHARHRAUNArrived at Gilsbakki I took up my quarters in the church, for the house was then rather full: besides the minister and his wife, and family of five sons and three daughters, the haymakers had to be accommodated, the total number sleeping there being twenty-six. In looking at the outside of the house, it was difficult to believe that so many persons could be stowed away there. Haymaking was in full swing on the farm, and the haymakers worked far into the night—I could hear them laughing and talking at intervals through the open door of the church, for they were in the fields all around. As there was bad weather impending, and the next day would be Sunday, they probably worked till the whole of the hay had been raked into small stacks in readiness for the rain, which fell, as expected, during most of the following day. It is noteworthy that we escaped much of the discomfort of travelling in bad weather by our Sunday rests, for it rained continuously nearly every Sunday we were in Iceland.A LAVA ARCH.Though it poured nearly the whole day, there was an interval in the evening when it became a meredrizzle, so Miss Hastie and I again visited the Barnafoss Falls. I took several photographs thereabouts, for I saw many interesting features. At the falls the river has several times changed its course in eroding first one soft spot, then another. A hard dyke stretches half-way across the gorge, and there is a series of terraces in the old course of the Hvitá, where the river had formerly flowed, foaming and tumbling over great steps in the rock. The gaps in the upper terrace are clearly seen, and a little water still flows through some of them; but the main volume now escapes through a great gap where the water has carved its way down to a lower level through softer rock. There are some interesting formations in the lava on the banks of the Hvitá, one being an arch illustrating the origin of some ofthe caves; it is obvious that this arch is due to pressure acting from the sides, which has forced the crust of lava upwards. This on a large scale might have been the origin of the Surtshellir Caves, which were subsequently enlarged by the action of flowing water, though their origin was probably due to bubble formation. There were also some exceedingly good specimens of "ropy" lava, so named because of the ropy appearance and rope-like structure of the surface.ROPY LAVA AT BARNAFOSS.On leaving Gilsbakki we proceeded down the valley of the Hvitá for a considerable distance on the right side of the river, where there are indications, which are quite as plain as those we saw on the other side, that the river was at one time very much wider, for there is much alluvial material, forminga series of river terraces one above another, and these are intersected by various streams from the mountains.While lunching at Sithumuli we saw great clouds of steam rising from the valley of the Reykjadalsá. A mountain range separates the valleys of the Reykjadalsá and the Hvitá where we were, but we could just see into the former round the end of the spur of the range. The steam arose from the geysers at Tunguhver, which were in great agitation and violent eruption; but we could not get across to see them, for the Hvitá intervened, and there was but one way—that over the bridge at Barnafoss, several hours distant. The track diverged from the Hvitá at Sithumuli, and our way lay over a ridge of basalt and across a series of scarped rises to the valley of the Kjarrá, a river that lower down towards its confluence with the Hvitá is known as the Thverá. The river is bridged at Northtunga by a small iron suspension bridge. A feature in the landscape hereabouts is the conical peak of Baula; there is also a smaller peak known as Little Baula, but the former stands out prominently for many miles around. It has the appearance of a volcanic cone, but I think (I did not visit the place) the shape is entirely due to erosion; and there are many instances of this erosion, one being a peak in Arnarfjord, a photograph of which appears in its place. We had to recross the Kjarrá, and soon afterwards one of the pack-ponies took it into its head to go for a swim in the river. I laughed until I discovered thatmybox was on its back, but then my laughter was turned to concern as to the fate of the contents. I expected to find everything saturated, but was agreeably surprised, on opening it, to findthat the box had proved to be almost water-tight; the damage done was practically nothing, the contents were uninjured. It was no uncommon thing for the ponies to take a swim on their own account. On another occasion one of the provision boxes was immersed, and damage to sundry articles of food resulted. We crossed the Kjarrá again, and close by came upon the tents of an Englishman who had hired the salmon-fishing for the season. No salmon-fishing was to be had in that district, as all the good rivers had been hired out.We camped at Hjartharholt, where we managed to get eggs for our evening meal; but as egg-cups were unattainable, we had difficulty in holding the eggs in our fingers, for their temperature was near boiling-point.Next morning I got a very good picture of the haymakers at Hjartharholt just before we set out for Statharhraun. We proceeded down the valley of the Northrá, passing, on the way to Stafholt, a number of scarped ridges of lava—these escarpments were on both sides of the river, which flowed in the depression between two of them; in the background was the conical peak of Baula, and just to the left of it a peculiar pyramidal hill formation. There are two ways from Hjartharholt to Statharhraun—one via a valley known as Vestri-Skarthsheithi, and the other, less interesting, by way of Stafholt and across the low swampy level country lying between the headlands at the end of the mountain ranges and the open sea of Faxafloi. Through a misunderstanding we started along the wrong route, and before the mistake was discovered we were well on the journey over the swamps.A peculiar feature, common in the stony and sandy regions, must be mentioned. The surface of the ground often appears as if it had been laid out in a sort of rough design, for large stones are to be seen arranged in lines, forming irregular figures with sandy and stony matter between. The sandy waste regions in which this feature is common is known by the namemelr, a word originally meaning "a kind of wild oat, especially bent grass,arundo arenaria, growing in sandy soil"; hence the term became applied to expanses of sand, or any waste place wheremelrmight grow. The explanation of these irregular figures seems to be that the earth becomes dry during the summer, and cracks under the influence of the sun's heat; when rain falls, the particles of sand and small stones are separated from the larger lumps and drain into the cracks, leaving a network of the large stones to mark their site.Another peculiar feature was often met with, not only in desert regions, but elsewhere. I refer to the hard-looking surfaces—apparently gravelly areas with a few stones in them—that are really a kind of bog. A pony comes to a halt on the edge of one of them, and sniffs; its rider, a new-comer, unused to the country, urges his beast onward, but as a rule it will not go. If it does consent to move on a few paces it suddenly sinks in, and then makes a wild endeavour at recovery. After one or two experiences of this kind, the new-comer sometimes thinks it better to allow the pony to have its own way, for it seems that it knows more about the country and the nature of the ground than its rider does.Our journey across the swamps was not devoid of incident, for the ponies were continually sinking into the boggy ground and performing violent gymnastics in their endeavours to reach something more solid. We had some compensation farther on, for after crossing the river Langá we had to round the headland locally named Mular, a word that means simply a jutting crag or headland, being equivalent to the ScottishMull. Here there are some very fine bold scarps of basalt having a number of hard and soft weathered dykes running through them, the former sticking out in places like horns; there was a quantity of birch scrub growing on the scree slopes (the talus) at the foot of the scarps. Thence we went on over broken lava and through birch scrub, past the entrance to the valley of Vestri-Skarthsheithi and the headland of Svarfholsmuli into the lava-filled valley of the Grjotá (Grjotardalr), where at Statharhraun we came to a halt.For the next day I planned a circular journey which the local people soberly informed me would take twenty-four hours to cover. I wanted to see Vestri-Skarthsheithi, the valley that we had missed by coming across the swamps to Hjartharholt, and having formed the opinion that nothing like that time should be required, I strongly suspected that an endeavour was being made to "choke me off" the journey, and therefore announced my intention of trying whether it could be done in less time. We set out with only a moderate food-supply, which seemed to imply that Hannes did not consider the journey would occupy such a long time as that first estimated. We proceeded for some distancealong the track that we had traversed the previous day, and rounded Svarfholsmuli, where just at the entrance to Vestri-Skarthsheithi we pulled up at Hraundalur to consult with the farmer as to the route. I obtained a very good picture of Hannes and the farmer when in consultation.HANNES AND THE FARMER IN CONSULTATION.At this farm I found a woman with a dislike for cameras; she ran away when I happened to be pointing mine in her direction. I took a snapshot, but the shutter did not work properly, so it was a failure. Afterwards when pointing the camera in fun at her child, who was standing beside her close to the door of the farm-house, she mistook my intention, and snatching up the boy, ran hurriedly indoors with him, much to my amusement. We arrangedwith the farmer to come with us in the capacity of guide; so we started off together up Vestri-Skarthsheithi, along a track in the alluvium at the foot of the mountains of Svarfholsmuli, where the "going" was very good. The valley is filled with the lava from two volcanoes quite close to Langavatn, a lake just beyond the head of the valley. These are extinct volcanoes covered with brown scoriaceous lava, and the craters are well-marked depressions, though in each case there is a gap in the side through which much of the lava must have flowed. In the lava just below there are several small vent cones, miniature volcanoes that are quite hollow, which spurted up small streams of lava when the locality was a scene of eruptive activity. From this spot we struck up over the mountains in a north-easterly direction, and from the high altitudes attained, got some exceedingly fine views over a wide stretch ofcountry, comprising the ice-fields of Eyriks Jökull and Lang Jökull, the mountain group of Skarthsheithi, etc. Much nearer we looked down upon Lake Langavatn and towards the conical peak, Baula. On the other side we saw into the valley of the Grjotá, in which reposed Lake Grjotarvatn, and across to the range beyond, where very curious four-sided and three-sided pyramids rise high above the mountain ridge.SMALL VENT CONES.The ponies had some very stiff work in climbing these mountains and in scrambling down to the Grjotá valley; but we occasionally dismounted to give them a rest. Once in the valley, we were able to make good progress beside the river to the lake, where the shore on one side was composed of small shingle. The opportunity for a gallop was too goodto be missed, so we scampered the ponies along as hard as they could go, and they seemed to enjoy it quite as much as their riders did, for it is a rare thing to be able to gallop in Iceland. Just beyond the end of the lake we came to an extinct volcano, its truncated cone being covered with brown scoria; from this flowed the lava that now fills the valley of the Grjotá. There is no trace of lava on the lake side of the volcano, for it all flowed down towards the sea from a rift on the valley side. On we went down the valley, carefully picking our way through the lava, and travelling at a vastly different rate from that at which we had galloped beside the lake. About half a mile from Statharhraun we crossed the river Grjotá and made our way back to the farm-house, arriving there in something less than twenty-four hours from the start—to wit, within seven!On our return there was an excellent supper ready, the result of a fishing expedition undertaken by Miss Hastie, the clergyman, and Jón. When returning, Miss Hastie's rod was broken beyond immediate repair by a collision with a pony, and it became the property of Jón, who doubtless patched it up at his leisure.CHAPTER XIVTO ELDBORG AND HELGAFELLNext day, before proceeding on the direct route, Miss Hastie and I, with a local guide, made a short detour up Hitadalr. At first we picked our way through the lava, and then went on by the side of a comparatively small stream, a branch of the Grjotá. A few miles up the valley we came upon what was left of several volcanic cones, the tuff remains of which were spread over the valley. At one of these about one-third of the lip of the crater still existed, having on it a quantity of reddish scoria. The cindery tuff of these remains has weathered into very fantastic shapes. Farther up the valley the brown scoria-covered cone of a more recent volcano could be seen, but we had not time to go on, for we had to meet Jón and Hannes two or three miles beyond Statharhraun for lunch. Returning on the other side of the valley (the west), we rode along the alluvial deposits of the Hitá, a river that we crossed and recrossed several times. Near to the end of Fagraskogarfjall, a range of basalt, there is a peculiar hill, known as Gretisbali, standing away from it; this hill is a mass of cindery tuff in course of rapiddenudation, the result being a somewhat conical-looking hill very fantastically weather-worn. In a view that I took, the hill is on the left; to the right there is the main mass of the range, the horizontal lines of some of the basalt flows being just distinguishable. In between the basalt range and the tuff hill there is, coming down the valley, what looks (in the photograph) like a fan-shaped glacier, with a vertical face at the end, but it is merely the alluvium resulting from the denudation of the hill; the clean-cut face is due to the river Hitá, which flows very rapidly at the foot of the range, and carries away the alluvial matter as it falls over the edge of the fan. The foreground is part of a broken-up lava-field, where the vegetation is typical: birch scrub, dwarf willow, coarse grass that grows all over Iceland, mosses, etc.; they grow in the soil formed of the decomposed lava and wind-blown material filling the interstices.Opposite the hill and at the end of the range we found Jón and Hannes awaiting us, and as lunch was ready, we had our mid-day meal before proceeding on our way. After passing the end of the Fagraskogarfjall range we crossed the river Kaldá, a stream running down to the sea from the valley between the range just mentioned and that of Kolbeinstathafjall; thence we crossed a quantity of alluvium brought down from the valley and deposited by the Kaldá in a wide belt extending from the mountains to the sea. We were making for Eldborg (fire burgh, or fortress), a "recent" volcano often referred to in the Sagas. We soon passed from the alluvium to the lava-field around Eldborg, and thenascended by a gradual slope to the foot of the volcano, which is a mere ring of green scoria. Up the steep slope we scrambled to the top, and there found ourselves on the ridge of a very narrow ring of loose lava surrounding a deep crater—a great yawning hole in the earth below us. The lip is much serrated and weather-worn, and the broken lava of the sides is held together by the moss that grows in the interstices. From Eldborg we struck across a cotton-grass swamp, and had a bad time on the way—perhaps, however, the ponies had the worst of it, for we were seated on their backs, sticking on for "all we were worth," while they plunged and scrambled along, performing a series of remarkable feats as first a hind-leg, then a fore-leg, and sometimes two, three, or even all four legs, sank deep down into the soft, spongy matter of which the ground was composed. At last we came to the river Kaldá again, and crossed to the firmer alluvial ground, over which we cantered to the farm-house of Kolbeinstathir, where we camped for the night.As usual I occupied the church, which was now to be put to a new use. The farm-house was very small, and there being no guest-chamber in which we could take our meals, the church had to be requisitioned to supply the accommodation it lacked. We dined and breakfasted in it, and I took a photograph showing the corner in which the breakfast-table was laid. As a special mark of attention we were here supplied with coffee flavoured with cinnamon; now Miss Hastie had a firmly-rooted dislike to the flavour of cinnamon, so the attention fell flat in her case, and I dropped in for the good things the local goddesshad sent. Jugs and basins were rather scarce, and Miss Hastie had to perform her ablutions in the porridge bowl, while the water for that purpose was brought in the coffee-pot. At this farm haymaking was completed and the hay being brought in by ponies. The bundles were hooked upon a pack-saddle, one on each side of the pony.We had before us an interesting journey across the peninsula of Snaefellsnes from near Faxafloi, the sea south of it, to the great fjord on the north side, Breithifjord. From Kolbeinstathir to Rauthimelr we made our way chiefly over a series of swamps, where we had the usual experiences, and the ponies the usual bad times. Hannes' pony got bogged, and he was obliged to dismount in a particularly soft place. We skirted a plain of lava, or rather a series of lava flows surrounding the old volcanic cones from which they had issued; many of these were so distinct that there could be no difficulty in apportioning the lava to particular volcanoes, for the ends of some of the flows were vertical faces.Rauthimelr lies just at the foot of the mountains, and from the farm we struck up into them, for several miles following up a branch of the Haffjathurá, a river that we had previously crossed in the plain just by the edge of the lava. After awhile we reached a spring of water—a "carbonic acid" spring it is called. The water bubbles up from the ground under cover of a shed that has been erected over it; it contains soda in solution, and is strongly impregnated with carbonic acid gas. Were this spring in a more accessible place and the property of a mineral-water manufacturer, it would no doubt bring him a considerableaccession of wealth. The quality of the water is excellent, as I ascertained on taking a whisky and soda from it—that is, the soda-water came from it, the whisky being abstracted from our stock of medical comforts. Rauthamisolkaldá is the name of the spring—I did not trouble to commit it to memory, but made a note of it!The mountains over which we were passing were composed of a series of flows of basalt one upon another, and as usual in this formation we found many waterfalls in the course of the branch of the Haffjathurá that we continued to follow up. I took a photograph of the confluence of this branch with another (I could not ascertain their names—they did not seem to have any), and also of two of the waterfalls that we saw; there is a conical mountain in the background of one of them, but it is not a volcano—it is merely another instance of the typical weathering of a series of basalt flows.We caught sight of many fine peaks as we ascended, but just beyond the divide they were gradually shut out as we descended into what would have been a rather dull and uninteresting valley, but that after a mile or so the river flowing there (which at first increased in volume) gradually became smaller and smaller as we descended, and this in spite of the fact that a number of mountain streams coming down on each side of the valley added their waters to it; finally, the river disappeared altogether. I further noticed that the mountain streams had gradually been contributing less and less of their waters, and when the river was no more, the streams coming down the valley sides also disappeared before arrivingat its bottom. There was an underground river of considerable magnitude flowing down the valley beneath the great accumulations of moraine pebbles with which it was filled; as the pebbles were all of large size they were separated by large vacant spaces, and the thickness of the deposit must have increased very rapidly to allow the much greater volume of water to flow through it below the surface. Several miles lower down, where an area of flat land was met with, the river reappeared, flowing on the surface of the land once more, through fine grass country—a striking contrast to the dry valley of pebbles.We then came in view of the sea on the north side of Snaefell Peninsula at Alftafjord, a fjord that is dotted over with hundreds of islands, the majority of which are very small. From here we made a rapid descent to the shores of the fjord, where at Narfeyri we camped, later in the evening witnessing a very fine red sunset over the fjord. My pony behaved rather badly this day, stumbling frequently: he fell with me twice, nearly unseating me on the second occasion. It is really wonderful, when the state of the ground is considered, that the ponies do not stumble more often; some of them rarely ever make a mistake, others get a bit careless at times, and then they stumble along in a free and easy sort of way, though they rarely come a real "cropper."Next morning Miss Hastie was amused at the persistent staring of a small boy, who stolidly looked at her, in spells of ten to fifteen minutes without a blink, through the window of the guest-chamber where we were breakfasting. Afterwards, when I sallied out camera in hand, the same small boy turned hisattention to me, and eyed me just as attentively as he had Miss Hastie. I thought that a boy who could stare so well deserved to be immortalised, so I brought my camera to bear upon him, with the result that I have him in a characteristic attitude, staring for "all he was worth"; he wasquiteunconscious of what I was doing, and was not posing for his photograph. I have him in another picture, that below, in which Jón and Hannes are loading up a pony, and are hooking two of the boxes upon the pack-saddle; but though he was paying some attention to his collar, he still had his weather eye on me.HANNES AND JÓN LOADING UP A PONY.I obtained an excellent view of a field of cotton grass, in which several of our ponies were grazing, looking across the waters of Breithifjord. I also caught an old woman busy stacking peat, while smoking her pipe with evident enjoyment.On leaving Narfeyri we skirted the foot of themountains at the back of the farm-house, and passed round them towards the head of Alftafjord, a name signifying swan-fjord. This is one of the places where numerous swans resort during the breeding season. We had timed our start so as to catch the tide at the ebb when nearly low water; this enabled us, by crossing the fjord some little distance from its head, to cut off more than a mile. When in the middle of the water some of the bedding broke loose and got wetted. While the packs were being adjusted, the ponies stopped for a drink of salt water, for which they have a taste, and they indulge it whenever opportunity occurs.Our destination was Stykkisholm, whence we expected to embark in three or four days' time on board the ss.Vesta. After crossing the fjord we skirted it for awhile, proceeding in a northerly direction just at the foot of the mountains, which there came down close to the water's edge. We passed over a quantity of moraine material, and then entered green fertile-looking fields once more, where a number of farm-houses were dotted over an undulating tract of country. Before long we came upon a road, amaderoad leading over a series of basalt rises to Stykkisholm. When near Helgafell we made a slight divergence from the road to a farm-house, where we halted for lunch.Afterwards we went across to Helgafell, a hill of columnar basalt rising two or three hundred feet above the surrounding low-lying land. It was curious to note that wherever the columns were broken, there on the top, where a little soil had gathered, vegetation was growing in comparativeluxuriance. From the hilltop we obtained a most excellent view of the surroundings, comprising mountain and hill, sea and lake, a meandering river, islands and islets. There was plenty of light and shade and colour, sunshine and cloud, to make up a picture; but the scene could not be done justice to by camera, which only records physical features, and could not reproduce effects that impressed me. The hill is situated on a peninsula jutting into Breithifjord; it is the site of one of the earliest of the Christian churches built in the land. In "heathen days the hill was sacred to the god Thor," and before any one was permitted to look upon the holy place, he had to perform certain rites. Helgafell and the neighbourhood is often referred to in the Sagas. At the foot of the hill there are now a farm-house and a church. While passing the farm-house, one of the Iceland dogs made demonstrations of friendship—they are all more or less friendly—and he stood very nicely to have his photograph taken.From Helgafell to Stykkisholm is but a short distance, and we covered it in less than an hour. On the way we saw a very fine reflection of clouds in one of the branches of the fjord where the water was perfectly still, the beauty of the scene being due chiefly to the colours.CHAPTER XVSTYKKISHOLM AND BERSERKJAHRAUNStykkisholm is a very picturesque little town built in a valley and on the slopes of the enclosing hills. It is situated at the extreme end of the peninsula, overlooking Breithifjord and its branch, Hvammsfjord. In front of the town, the island of Sugandisey acts as a sort of breakwater, and affords shelter from storms to small craft. This island is composed of columnar basalt; it is a striking feature in the surrounding scenery, where hundreds of smaller islands dot the fjord.We were put up at the house of the Rural Dean of the district, where we remained for two or three days exploring the neighbourhood until the steamer from Reykjavik called on its way to the fjords of the north-west, north and east coasts. Here at Stykkisholm Miss Hastie and I changed about as regards sleeping apartments, for she occupied the guest-chamber in our host's house, while I camped in the tent that she had abandoned. The tent was pitched in the grounds of an adjoining house, the owners of which did not seem to mind at all, for they readily granted permission for it to be put up there.The next day, Sunday, it rained as usual, so we did not go very far from the house.THE COLUMNAR BASALT ISLAND, SUGANDISEY.On Monday, accompanied by our host, we set out for a mountain to the south of Helgafell, where it was rumoured specimens of coal, lignite, and gold were to be seen, but we had doubts as to what we should find. On the way I had a difference of opinion with my pony. He had lately developed a habit of suddenly jumping aside from all pools of water that lay in his path. I had previously not checked the growing habit, but after the previous day's rain the road was a series of puddles, so I objected to being continually switched off to right or left at the pony's sweet will, and therefore brought him up to all the puddles. At first he would not go through unless brought up to them from ten to twenty times; atlast, however, he consented to do it in fewer, and at the end of the day's journey he was completely broken in. We took the road via Helgafell to Saurar, and thence traversed a swamp, some moraine matter, and alluvium to the foot of the mountain that was our destination, Drapuhlitharfjall—a name that Miss Hastie vainly endeavoured for days to get the correct pronunciation of, and I am not at all sure that I was quite successful myself. The mountain is a mass of liparite, which is there found in all its varieties. I had strongly suspected the so-called coal to be obsidian, the black form of liparite; and on ascending the mountain to the spot where it was supposed to exist, obsidian it was found to be. Having camera in hand, I had an awkward scramble up a very steep scree slope, and I often started small avalanches, which scattered in all directions on their descent. Our host ascended by a longer and easier route: he was up before me, and crossed the scree at a higher altitude, with the result that he started an avalanche of big jagged boulders that passed perilously near to where I was lying flat upon the slope and endeavouring to wriggle upward—a yell from me caused him to wait until I had reached his level before proceeding farther.We lunched on the mountain-side, and then went down to the supposed gold mine at its foot. On the way up we had called at a farm-house on the lower slopes of the mountain, and had there enlisted the services of the farmer to show us the shortest way up to the coal (!) and to dig out some gold. He had come provided with pick and shovel, so on reaching the mine he set to work and soon handed up a quantity of earth having a number of bright, shining,yellow metallic crystals in it, and these he pointed out as the gold. I smiled, having seen much of the same sort of thing in other parts of the world. It was iron pyrites! The mistake was not to be wondered at, for the metal had deceived many people before. I told the man that he would not get much gold out of it; but he did not seem to believe me, for he stated that a quantity of it had been sent to America, had there been tested, and had been reported on to the effect that of gold there was "a trace."The search for gold having proved abortive, we returned to the farm-house. It was then raining hard. I wanted, before leaving the neighbourhood, to pay a visit to a lava-field some two hours distant, so I let Hannes decide whether we should go on through the rain, or make a separate journey there on the morrow. Hannes elected to go on then, because he wanted, if possible, to giveallthe ponies a rest the next day, for he was to start with them on the way back to Reykjavik the following day. We set out in torrents of rain—Hannes and I, the rest of the party remaining under shelter at the farm-house, where they were regaled with coffee, etc. I fancy they thought me a lunatic, but I was bent on seeing the lava-field of the Berserkers, where two members of that race are reported to lie buried. We started with the rain beating in our faces; the going was good, for the ground was alluvial, so Hannes led off at a hand gallop, in the evident intention of "getting through with it" as quickly as possible. I followed close at his pony's heels, and away we went through a perfect deluge of rain. It beat violently in our faces, but we did not care, enveloped in oilskins aswe were; and save for my face, which was thoroughly well washed, and for a few drops of water that trickled down my neck, I rode through it all with dry skin. The rate at which we travelled brought us to the edge of the lava-field in far less than the two hours stated as necessary for the journey; in fact, we got there in about an hour and a quarter. In the last quarter of an hour the weather, as so often happens in Iceland, underwent a very rapid change: the rain ceased, the clouds condensed over the hills and finally rolled away, and by the time that we were ready to return, it was a fine clear evening.The story connected with the Berserkers' lava-field (Berserkjahraun) is related in the Eyrbyggja Saga; it is as follows. There were two Berserkers, or Berserks, brothers named Halli and Leiknir, one of whom was anxious to obtain in marriage Ásdisa, the daughter of one Styr; but Styr had no fancy for the marriage, for he regarded him as unworthy of his daughter; yet he had not the courage to decline the match, because the Berserks were men of valour, and he did not think it safe to decline; so he was diplomatic and sought a way to circumvent them. He consulted one Snorri, a priest, with the result that Styr imposed a task upon the Berserks, that they should make a road through the lava-field within a time that he considered an impossible one, agreeing that on the successful completion of the work his daughter should be given in marriage to one of them, though which was the suitor is not mentioned in the Saga. The Berserks willingly undertook the task, for they were strong men andhad confidence in their own powers, and they set about the work in earnest. It soon became apparent to Styr that he had misjudged the capabilities of the two Berserks, and that they would complete their undertaking within the allotted time; so he thought out a scheme and built a bath-house. When the Berserks had finished making the road—and a very good road it is, as the photograph shows, certainly the best pathway that I met with in lava—Styr invited them to take a warm bath, remarking that they would find it very refreshing after their arduous labours. He had prepared for their reception, and the furnaces had been heated far beyond what was necessary. The Berserks accepted the invitation and entered the bath unsuspectingly. They thought it hot, but on finding the water becoming much hotter, they concluded that something must bewrong, and their suspicion was confirmed when they discovered that the door had been barricaded against them. They were strong men, as has been stated, and their strength was equal to the occasion, for they broke down the door. Now this contingency had been provided for: a fresh ox-hide had been spread outside the door, so when the Berserks emerged with a rush, they fell when crossing the slippery hide; one was slain as he lay sprawling on the ground, while the other was thrust back into the bath and soon became boiled Berserk. Styr afterwards went around bragging of his prowess! The pith of the story lies in the sequel, for Snorri, the priest, married Ásdisa!THE BERSERKERS' ROAD THROUGH THE LAVA-FIELD.In the lava, just beside the road through it, there is a mound where the Berserks are said to lie buried; that may be so or not, but the mound was opened some time ago and human remains there found. The mound is shown in the picture of the lava-field—a small square patch just in front of the two ponies that we left standing on the pathway to indicate the spot. The Berserkjahraun farm-house lies in the middle of some hummocky land adjoining the lava-field; it is built on the site of Styr's house and named after the Berserks.The weather was most unfavourable next day, for it rained during the greater part of it, the result being that we were confined to the house until late in the evening. However, we made an inspection of the library, where there is the nucleus of a good collection of books; it is questionable, though, whether the books will last long, for the dampness of the atmosphere is already playing havoc with them:many that I took down from their shelves were in a badly mildewed state, the leaves and binding being already in an advanced stage of decomposition. The following day we were to have embarked on board theVesta, and to have set sail from Stykkisholm. The vessel hove in sight at about ten in the morning, but a very strong wind was blowing—straight in shore, too; so she remained all day under shelter of an island a few miles out to sea, and did not come to Stykkisholm till about eleven at night. The weather was fine overhead during the day, so we were able to get out a bit. I took a number of photographs, including several of the town; one showing the sea-front was taken from a small headland a few yards away from my tent. Our hostess kindly sat for her photograph attired in the national costume, which is donned on high days, holidays, and festivals. The headdress (faldris the Icelandic name) is peculiar; it is in shape somewhat like the French cap of Liberty, with a horn curling over to the front, and having a short veil which is thrown back from the head; a gold or silver band is, as a rule, worn round the forehead just below the cap. When wearing the ordinary head-gear a lady's dress is not considered complete unless an apron is worn, and it is not at all the thing to appear in public without one. With thefaldran apron isnotnecessary.Jón and Hannes set out early in the afternoon on the return journey to Reykjavik. I attempted to photograph them just as they were leaving the grounds at the back of our host's house, and again when the pack-train was ascending the main street, with Jón and Hannes bringing up the rear—the lastI saw of them; but the shutter of the camera jammed, so the pictures were failures.In the afternoon Miss Hastie went for a ride, using an Icelandic lady's saddle, but she did not go far, for she did not take kindly to it.We took leave of our kind host and hostess after coffee next morning, and went on board theVestafor breakfast. As we proceeded to the wharf, we passed some women who were carrying goods on bearers and loading up small cargo-boats for shipment by theVesta.CHAPTER XVITHE NORTH-WEST PENINSULATheVestaset sail at about 1p.m., shaping a course northward in Breithifjord through a sea of small islands, which I thought to be the remains of old lava flows denuded and perhaps sunk below sea-level. I had no opportunity of examining them, but they are said to be "crater islets," most of them. The sea in Breithifjord is very shallow, and on the journey to the island of Flatey, and afterwards thence towards the open ocean, our course was anything but a straight one; so shallow was the water in one place after leaving Flatey, that the wash of our vessel raised breakers on the edge of a long line of submerged bank lying parallel to and not far from our course.Flatey is one of the remains of a broken-up lava flow; a small island opposite the town has a peculiar circular harbour whose shape is rather suggestive of a coral atoll, but perhaps this is one of the "crater islets." I did not examine it, because we had no opportunity of going ashore: we arrived just as dinner was announced, and steamed away within ten minutes of the completion of the meal. The watersof Breithifjord were alive with thousands of puffins, which flapped along the surface of the water or dived beneath it as our vessel approached. We passed through miles of them while skirting the southern coast of the North-West Peninsula. The sea was quite calm as we steamed out of the fjord and rounded the south-western corner of the peninsula, in strong contrast to the heavy winds and stormy seas of the day before. We entered Patreksfjord when it was growing dark, and came to an anchorage just at midnight.In the early morning I turned out to look at the scenery in Patreksfjord; it was rather forbidding. We were surrounded by high mountains which came steeply down to the water's edge, there being but little land available for cultivation or for grazing purposes in consequence. I found that there would be no time to go ashore, for we were to start in half an hour's time, and there was no boat available to take me; in any case, there was nothing much but the wild surroundings to be seen, and they could be viewed just as well from the vessel's deck.At about breakfast-time we arrived opposite to Biludalr in Arnarfjord. We were in a decidedly picturesque spot, and no doubt we were more favourably impressed because of the clear bright sky and sunny weather. Ashore, the chief interest centred in the cod-fish curing and storing station, where many women, assisted by a few men, were employed in the various branches of the industry. It was the best-equipped station that I saw in Iceland; everything seemed to be in order, and to be carried on in a thoroughly business-like way. There was a tramline running between two long rows of well-built galvanised iron sheds that lined the track.A BASALT MOUNTAIN CONE DUE TO EROSION.It was in this fjord while on the way out that I obtained, on the north side, a photograph showing excellently the typical cone-like form to which a succession of basalt flows are reduced by erosion. There were other features of interest: on the south side of the fjord there were many fine specimens of corries, but the position of the sun prevented a successful attempt being made to photograph them, though, just when turning into Dyrafjord, I caught a good specimen in a suitable light. A little farther on, at Hraun, there was a view looking up a valley where the face of a moraine is kept straight by the wash of the sea at its base. We proceeded up Dyrafjord as far as Thingeyri, wherewe anchored. Distant about three miles, at Framnes, there was a whale-fishing station, where whales, brought in by the whalers, were being reduced to the commercial forms of oil, bone, and manure. We—a party of four—obtained a boat and sailed across to the station. We were courteously received by the foreman, who kindly showed us over the factory and explained matters as we proceeded; he was a Norwegian who had been whale-fishing for seventeen years before he was appointed foreman of these works. The first thing that struck us—so severely, indeed, that we were nearly bowled over—was a very choice assortment of "smells" of the most objectionable kind: they had a distinct flavour of ancient whale, and were all more or less (generally more, and sometimes most) disgusting. We were conducted by the foreman to a platform where the whales were cut up. A dozen or more were floating in the water beyond some wooden staging that jutted out into the fjord. They are kept there until required to be cut up and placed in the boiling-down vats; then one is hauled upon the platform and cut into big slabs. The platform was a horrible sight, covered as it was with slimy offal and refuse; this stuff, being valueless, is disposed of by being shot into the fjord, there to pollute its water. Below the platform a similar state of things existed, and the stench that arose from the decomposing matter was too disgusting for words to describe.The slabs of blubber are thrown into a rotary machine, where a number of knives reduce them to pieces of much smaller size; thence the blubber is taken into the boiling-down room and boiled for tenhours in great cylindrical tanks by having steam passed through. At the expiration of that time the oil has been set free and is floating on the top, whence it is drawn off into casks; it is then shipped to Glasgow to be refined. The whale-bone, which is taken from the upper jaw of the head, is cut away and piled in heaps in a yard near the cutting-up platform. The bones are sent to another room, and are there boiled; they are then dried and ground to a fine powder; this bone dust is exported in sacks for manure. The refuse of the blubber, after the extraction of the oil, is dried in special revolving machines, which reduce it to the consistency of coarse meal; this also is used as manure, and commercially is called guano. The whale-bone is taken from the heaps to the shed; it is first pulled apart and then washed in vats containing soda and water; it is afterwards dried, when it is ready for exportation. In the blacksmith's shop we were shown the harpoons used on the whaling-vessels in securing the whales. They are shot from a short cannon into the whale; the head is hollow, and is filled with gunpowder; when the whale dashes off, the tension on the line attached to the harpoon causes the arrowheaded blades to expand and the charge of gunpowder to explode; the shell bursts and usually kills the whale. A vessel carries two harpoons, to each of which three hundred fathoms of rope is attached; the second harpoon is discharged if the first does not kill the whale. I took a photograph at Thorshavn in the Faroes showing a modern whaling-vessel. The bird's-nest where the look-out man is posted is on the foremast, and the harpoon gun is in the bows of thevessel. We returned to theVestawith the distinct impression that we were taking along with us on boots and clothes some remnants of smelly whale, for the odour seemed to stick to us and accompany us wherever we went; it was days before all suspicion of whale wore away.The next port of call, in Onundarfjord, was not very interesting as regards scenery. The chief industry is carried on at a large whale-fishing and boiling-down station at Flateyri, where we anchored opposite the town. The presence of the station was made evident to me as I lay in my bunk in the small hours of the morning, by the fine full-flavoured aroma that came wafting into the cabin through the open port-hole. We made but a short stay at this port, for we departed before breakfast, and were thus enabled to enjoy that meal free from the disturbing influences of whale.We entered Skutilsfjord, a branch of Isafjord, at about mid-day, and anchored opposite the town of the same name, Isafjord. Miss Hastie and I went ashore soon afterwards and proceeded up the valley towards Flateyri, intending to walk to the ridge overlooking Onundarfjord; but the Fates, in the form of bad weather, were against us, for it rained so heavily that we abandoned our original intention after we had ascended to a considerable altitude and had become thoroughly wetted. We stood for awhile with our backs against the leeward side of a cairn on the mountain-side, trying to imagine that we had effectual shelter; but as the cairn was of rather less height than we ourselves, and as we could feel the raindrops trickling down the backs of our necks, thereality was rather at variance with our attempts at imagination. Shelter or no shelter, we stuck to our posts while devouring biscuits and cheese, and sandwiches made of Danish sausage and such like greasy delicacies, and did not abandon our post, or the intention of going to the summit of the divide, until we had finished lunch and had become uncomfortably soaked. Then we retraced our steps down the valley, by the side of a small stream that descended in a series of rapids and waterfalls. On the way we met some men road-making, and found them using a cart for conveying material for the purpose from a quarry on the road-side—the first cart that I had seen in use in Iceland. Almost opposite to our anchorage there was a good example of a small corrie high up above the water of the fjord, but the photograph proved a failure. Isafjord is reputed to be the third town in Iceland in point of population; its importance is due to the cod and herring fisheries, and to the establishments where curing is carried on. A small cod-liver oil factory emitted an odour that caused us to avoid its immediate vicinity. With regard to this oil, it has been said that some of the so-called cod-liver oil is not derived from the cod at all, but is really produced from the liver of the Greenland Shark, known locally ashakarë(Danish namehaukal). I was assured, however, by one Danish merchant that this is not the case. Modern inventions were brought to mind on seeing telephone posts and the wire that connects Isafjord with Eyri. I ought to mention that one modern invention, the cream separator, is in common use on the best farms throughout Iceland. I was often awakened in the morning by hearing the whirringof the rapidly rotating cylinder of the machine. A whale-fishing establishment was said to be somewhere in the main branch of Isafjord away round the point, but we could not see it when coming in, and we were quite content not to smell it. It was doubtless several miles distant, though that avails but little when the wind blows from the direction of decaying or boiling whales.We left Isafjord in the early morning, and between 7 and 8a.m.rounded the northernmost point of the North-West Peninsula, known as The Horn, or North Cape. It is said to be a bold, striking headland; but as the upper portion was enveloped in fog, we could not see it properly. Fog soon afterwards descended over the sea, and the vessel slowed down to half speed; while the steam-whistle screeched out at short intervals its warning to other vessels. The result was, that we saw nothing whatever of the coast along which we were passing. It was a great pity, for that part of the peninsula, which faces north-east and is known as the Hornstrandr, is the wildest, most inhospitable, and one of the least productive regions of Iceland. There the inhabitants eke out a precarious livelihood chiefly by wild-fowling—a most dangerous occupation in that region, and it is carried on at the cost of not a few human lives; they have a very hard struggle for existence and are often on the verge of starvation. The habitations are exposed to the rigours of the weather, which are very severe, for the coast is blocked with drift ice during more than half the year, and its effect is felt for a much longer period.In consequence of the fog we did not reachReykjarfjord until the afternoon was well advanced; but at its entrance we experienced a delightful change, for we suddenly emerged from the sea fog into bright sunshine. We anchored opposite the small settlement known as Kuvikr, in a picturesque fjord where the mountains on the south side rise to a sharp-looking ridge between Reykjarfjord and Veithileysa, a fjord lying to the south. After enjoying the sunshine on deck for an hour, Miss Hastie and I went ashore and ascended the lower part of the ridge just mentioned to a sort of secondary ridge, overlooking much of the surrounding country. We found a continuation of the sea fog lying below us over Veithileysa and the valley at its head, the peaks of the mountains on the far side of the fjord standing out clear and bright in the sunshine.A "GLORIFIED" SHADOW ON THE FOG OVER VEITHILEYSA.A few minutes later we had an unusual experience. The fog was being blown up the fjord and over the valley at its head towards us, while the sun, which was shining brightly behind us, was rather low down in the heavens. The time was just 7p.m.I moved away from Miss Hastie, who was sitting on a rock, to some higher ground about a hundred yards distant; as I reached the highest point, I was astonished to see, cast upon the fog, an elongated dark shadow of myself, with an oval halo of brilliant colours around the shadow. My head was the centre of the halo, and there around it shone a bright golden yellow light; this gradually changed in the outer rings to green, and so on through blue and indigo to violet; then the colours of the spectrum were continued outward in the reverse order, from violet to indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, while the outside ringwas a brilliant red. The effect was rather startling at first, as may be imagined from the sketch I made on the spot, and superstitious persons would have thought it to be a very strong omen of something or other—good or otherwise. I was very unfortunate in having just exposed the last film (isochromatic) in my camera, so I was unable to secure any better record than that sketched in my note-book. It is further unfortunate that, in developing the negative I took only a few seconds before the "glorified" shadow appeared,—a view looking across the fog or clouds to the mountain peaks rising above it,—I completelydestroyed the only photographic record I had of the scene; for instead of pouring pyro into the solution to hasten development, I inadvertently took up the hypo bottle and used some of its contents, with the result that the negative was absolutely destroyed before I guessed what I had done—my annoyance can be imagined, but not expressed in words! The appearance in the sketch was that produced while I was drawing with arms bent and book held before me. When I held my arms in different positions, the shadow of course varied, but without affecting the form or position of the oval-shaped halo. When I had finished the sketch, I saw Miss Hastie coming towards me, and beckoned to her to hurry, but she arrived when the fog was clearing and the halo fading away. I then learned that she had had a similar experience from the spot where I had left her seated, and that she had seen her own shadow surrounded by a halo, which accompanied her for a considerable distance as she came towards me, but faded away as the atmospheric conditions gradually changed.These halos are known asAnthelia(Greek = "opposite the sun") orGlories. The rings may be circular if the shadow is thrown in an upright position upon the fog, but when the shadow is elongated through being thrown at an angle upon it, as in my own case, they are elliptical in consequence. In all cases the observer sees the rings round the shadow of his head, and they have a common centre "in the point where a line from the sun through the eye of the observer meets the fog." I saw two brilliantsetsof coloured rings, though more are sometimes seen; but those beyond are much fainter.

CHAPTER XIIIGILSBAKKI TO STATHARHRAUNArrived at Gilsbakki I took up my quarters in the church, for the house was then rather full: besides the minister and his wife, and family of five sons and three daughters, the haymakers had to be accommodated, the total number sleeping there being twenty-six. In looking at the outside of the house, it was difficult to believe that so many persons could be stowed away there. Haymaking was in full swing on the farm, and the haymakers worked far into the night—I could hear them laughing and talking at intervals through the open door of the church, for they were in the fields all around. As there was bad weather impending, and the next day would be Sunday, they probably worked till the whole of the hay had been raked into small stacks in readiness for the rain, which fell, as expected, during most of the following day. It is noteworthy that we escaped much of the discomfort of travelling in bad weather by our Sunday rests, for it rained continuously nearly every Sunday we were in Iceland.A LAVA ARCH.Though it poured nearly the whole day, there was an interval in the evening when it became a meredrizzle, so Miss Hastie and I again visited the Barnafoss Falls. I took several photographs thereabouts, for I saw many interesting features. At the falls the river has several times changed its course in eroding first one soft spot, then another. A hard dyke stretches half-way across the gorge, and there is a series of terraces in the old course of the Hvitá, where the river had formerly flowed, foaming and tumbling over great steps in the rock. The gaps in the upper terrace are clearly seen, and a little water still flows through some of them; but the main volume now escapes through a great gap where the water has carved its way down to a lower level through softer rock. There are some interesting formations in the lava on the banks of the Hvitá, one being an arch illustrating the origin of some ofthe caves; it is obvious that this arch is due to pressure acting from the sides, which has forced the crust of lava upwards. This on a large scale might have been the origin of the Surtshellir Caves, which were subsequently enlarged by the action of flowing water, though their origin was probably due to bubble formation. There were also some exceedingly good specimens of "ropy" lava, so named because of the ropy appearance and rope-like structure of the surface.ROPY LAVA AT BARNAFOSS.On leaving Gilsbakki we proceeded down the valley of the Hvitá for a considerable distance on the right side of the river, where there are indications, which are quite as plain as those we saw on the other side, that the river was at one time very much wider, for there is much alluvial material, forminga series of river terraces one above another, and these are intersected by various streams from the mountains.While lunching at Sithumuli we saw great clouds of steam rising from the valley of the Reykjadalsá. A mountain range separates the valleys of the Reykjadalsá and the Hvitá where we were, but we could just see into the former round the end of the spur of the range. The steam arose from the geysers at Tunguhver, which were in great agitation and violent eruption; but we could not get across to see them, for the Hvitá intervened, and there was but one way—that over the bridge at Barnafoss, several hours distant. The track diverged from the Hvitá at Sithumuli, and our way lay over a ridge of basalt and across a series of scarped rises to the valley of the Kjarrá, a river that lower down towards its confluence with the Hvitá is known as the Thverá. The river is bridged at Northtunga by a small iron suspension bridge. A feature in the landscape hereabouts is the conical peak of Baula; there is also a smaller peak known as Little Baula, but the former stands out prominently for many miles around. It has the appearance of a volcanic cone, but I think (I did not visit the place) the shape is entirely due to erosion; and there are many instances of this erosion, one being a peak in Arnarfjord, a photograph of which appears in its place. We had to recross the Kjarrá, and soon afterwards one of the pack-ponies took it into its head to go for a swim in the river. I laughed until I discovered thatmybox was on its back, but then my laughter was turned to concern as to the fate of the contents. I expected to find everything saturated, but was agreeably surprised, on opening it, to findthat the box had proved to be almost water-tight; the damage done was practically nothing, the contents were uninjured. It was no uncommon thing for the ponies to take a swim on their own account. On another occasion one of the provision boxes was immersed, and damage to sundry articles of food resulted. We crossed the Kjarrá again, and close by came upon the tents of an Englishman who had hired the salmon-fishing for the season. No salmon-fishing was to be had in that district, as all the good rivers had been hired out.We camped at Hjartharholt, where we managed to get eggs for our evening meal; but as egg-cups were unattainable, we had difficulty in holding the eggs in our fingers, for their temperature was near boiling-point.Next morning I got a very good picture of the haymakers at Hjartharholt just before we set out for Statharhraun. We proceeded down the valley of the Northrá, passing, on the way to Stafholt, a number of scarped ridges of lava—these escarpments were on both sides of the river, which flowed in the depression between two of them; in the background was the conical peak of Baula, and just to the left of it a peculiar pyramidal hill formation. There are two ways from Hjartharholt to Statharhraun—one via a valley known as Vestri-Skarthsheithi, and the other, less interesting, by way of Stafholt and across the low swampy level country lying between the headlands at the end of the mountain ranges and the open sea of Faxafloi. Through a misunderstanding we started along the wrong route, and before the mistake was discovered we were well on the journey over the swamps.A peculiar feature, common in the stony and sandy regions, must be mentioned. The surface of the ground often appears as if it had been laid out in a sort of rough design, for large stones are to be seen arranged in lines, forming irregular figures with sandy and stony matter between. The sandy waste regions in which this feature is common is known by the namemelr, a word originally meaning "a kind of wild oat, especially bent grass,arundo arenaria, growing in sandy soil"; hence the term became applied to expanses of sand, or any waste place wheremelrmight grow. The explanation of these irregular figures seems to be that the earth becomes dry during the summer, and cracks under the influence of the sun's heat; when rain falls, the particles of sand and small stones are separated from the larger lumps and drain into the cracks, leaving a network of the large stones to mark their site.Another peculiar feature was often met with, not only in desert regions, but elsewhere. I refer to the hard-looking surfaces—apparently gravelly areas with a few stones in them—that are really a kind of bog. A pony comes to a halt on the edge of one of them, and sniffs; its rider, a new-comer, unused to the country, urges his beast onward, but as a rule it will not go. If it does consent to move on a few paces it suddenly sinks in, and then makes a wild endeavour at recovery. After one or two experiences of this kind, the new-comer sometimes thinks it better to allow the pony to have its own way, for it seems that it knows more about the country and the nature of the ground than its rider does.Our journey across the swamps was not devoid of incident, for the ponies were continually sinking into the boggy ground and performing violent gymnastics in their endeavours to reach something more solid. We had some compensation farther on, for after crossing the river Langá we had to round the headland locally named Mular, a word that means simply a jutting crag or headland, being equivalent to the ScottishMull. Here there are some very fine bold scarps of basalt having a number of hard and soft weathered dykes running through them, the former sticking out in places like horns; there was a quantity of birch scrub growing on the scree slopes (the talus) at the foot of the scarps. Thence we went on over broken lava and through birch scrub, past the entrance to the valley of Vestri-Skarthsheithi and the headland of Svarfholsmuli into the lava-filled valley of the Grjotá (Grjotardalr), where at Statharhraun we came to a halt.For the next day I planned a circular journey which the local people soberly informed me would take twenty-four hours to cover. I wanted to see Vestri-Skarthsheithi, the valley that we had missed by coming across the swamps to Hjartharholt, and having formed the opinion that nothing like that time should be required, I strongly suspected that an endeavour was being made to "choke me off" the journey, and therefore announced my intention of trying whether it could be done in less time. We set out with only a moderate food-supply, which seemed to imply that Hannes did not consider the journey would occupy such a long time as that first estimated. We proceeded for some distancealong the track that we had traversed the previous day, and rounded Svarfholsmuli, where just at the entrance to Vestri-Skarthsheithi we pulled up at Hraundalur to consult with the farmer as to the route. I obtained a very good picture of Hannes and the farmer when in consultation.HANNES AND THE FARMER IN CONSULTATION.At this farm I found a woman with a dislike for cameras; she ran away when I happened to be pointing mine in her direction. I took a snapshot, but the shutter did not work properly, so it was a failure. Afterwards when pointing the camera in fun at her child, who was standing beside her close to the door of the farm-house, she mistook my intention, and snatching up the boy, ran hurriedly indoors with him, much to my amusement. We arrangedwith the farmer to come with us in the capacity of guide; so we started off together up Vestri-Skarthsheithi, along a track in the alluvium at the foot of the mountains of Svarfholsmuli, where the "going" was very good. The valley is filled with the lava from two volcanoes quite close to Langavatn, a lake just beyond the head of the valley. These are extinct volcanoes covered with brown scoriaceous lava, and the craters are well-marked depressions, though in each case there is a gap in the side through which much of the lava must have flowed. In the lava just below there are several small vent cones, miniature volcanoes that are quite hollow, which spurted up small streams of lava when the locality was a scene of eruptive activity. From this spot we struck up over the mountains in a north-easterly direction, and from the high altitudes attained, got some exceedingly fine views over a wide stretch ofcountry, comprising the ice-fields of Eyriks Jökull and Lang Jökull, the mountain group of Skarthsheithi, etc. Much nearer we looked down upon Lake Langavatn and towards the conical peak, Baula. On the other side we saw into the valley of the Grjotá, in which reposed Lake Grjotarvatn, and across to the range beyond, where very curious four-sided and three-sided pyramids rise high above the mountain ridge.SMALL VENT CONES.The ponies had some very stiff work in climbing these mountains and in scrambling down to the Grjotá valley; but we occasionally dismounted to give them a rest. Once in the valley, we were able to make good progress beside the river to the lake, where the shore on one side was composed of small shingle. The opportunity for a gallop was too goodto be missed, so we scampered the ponies along as hard as they could go, and they seemed to enjoy it quite as much as their riders did, for it is a rare thing to be able to gallop in Iceland. Just beyond the end of the lake we came to an extinct volcano, its truncated cone being covered with brown scoria; from this flowed the lava that now fills the valley of the Grjotá. There is no trace of lava on the lake side of the volcano, for it all flowed down towards the sea from a rift on the valley side. On we went down the valley, carefully picking our way through the lava, and travelling at a vastly different rate from that at which we had galloped beside the lake. About half a mile from Statharhraun we crossed the river Grjotá and made our way back to the farm-house, arriving there in something less than twenty-four hours from the start—to wit, within seven!On our return there was an excellent supper ready, the result of a fishing expedition undertaken by Miss Hastie, the clergyman, and Jón. When returning, Miss Hastie's rod was broken beyond immediate repair by a collision with a pony, and it became the property of Jón, who doubtless patched it up at his leisure.

GILSBAKKI TO STATHARHRAUN

Arrived at Gilsbakki I took up my quarters in the church, for the house was then rather full: besides the minister and his wife, and family of five sons and three daughters, the haymakers had to be accommodated, the total number sleeping there being twenty-six. In looking at the outside of the house, it was difficult to believe that so many persons could be stowed away there. Haymaking was in full swing on the farm, and the haymakers worked far into the night—I could hear them laughing and talking at intervals through the open door of the church, for they were in the fields all around. As there was bad weather impending, and the next day would be Sunday, they probably worked till the whole of the hay had been raked into small stacks in readiness for the rain, which fell, as expected, during most of the following day. It is noteworthy that we escaped much of the discomfort of travelling in bad weather by our Sunday rests, for it rained continuously nearly every Sunday we were in Iceland.

A LAVA ARCH.

A LAVA ARCH.

A LAVA ARCH.

Though it poured nearly the whole day, there was an interval in the evening when it became a meredrizzle, so Miss Hastie and I again visited the Barnafoss Falls. I took several photographs thereabouts, for I saw many interesting features. At the falls the river has several times changed its course in eroding first one soft spot, then another. A hard dyke stretches half-way across the gorge, and there is a series of terraces in the old course of the Hvitá, where the river had formerly flowed, foaming and tumbling over great steps in the rock. The gaps in the upper terrace are clearly seen, and a little water still flows through some of them; but the main volume now escapes through a great gap where the water has carved its way down to a lower level through softer rock. There are some interesting formations in the lava on the banks of the Hvitá, one being an arch illustrating the origin of some ofthe caves; it is obvious that this arch is due to pressure acting from the sides, which has forced the crust of lava upwards. This on a large scale might have been the origin of the Surtshellir Caves, which were subsequently enlarged by the action of flowing water, though their origin was probably due to bubble formation. There were also some exceedingly good specimens of "ropy" lava, so named because of the ropy appearance and rope-like structure of the surface.

ROPY LAVA AT BARNAFOSS.

ROPY LAVA AT BARNAFOSS.

ROPY LAVA AT BARNAFOSS.

On leaving Gilsbakki we proceeded down the valley of the Hvitá for a considerable distance on the right side of the river, where there are indications, which are quite as plain as those we saw on the other side, that the river was at one time very much wider, for there is much alluvial material, forminga series of river terraces one above another, and these are intersected by various streams from the mountains.

While lunching at Sithumuli we saw great clouds of steam rising from the valley of the Reykjadalsá. A mountain range separates the valleys of the Reykjadalsá and the Hvitá where we were, but we could just see into the former round the end of the spur of the range. The steam arose from the geysers at Tunguhver, which were in great agitation and violent eruption; but we could not get across to see them, for the Hvitá intervened, and there was but one way—that over the bridge at Barnafoss, several hours distant. The track diverged from the Hvitá at Sithumuli, and our way lay over a ridge of basalt and across a series of scarped rises to the valley of the Kjarrá, a river that lower down towards its confluence with the Hvitá is known as the Thverá. The river is bridged at Northtunga by a small iron suspension bridge. A feature in the landscape hereabouts is the conical peak of Baula; there is also a smaller peak known as Little Baula, but the former stands out prominently for many miles around. It has the appearance of a volcanic cone, but I think (I did not visit the place) the shape is entirely due to erosion; and there are many instances of this erosion, one being a peak in Arnarfjord, a photograph of which appears in its place. We had to recross the Kjarrá, and soon afterwards one of the pack-ponies took it into its head to go for a swim in the river. I laughed until I discovered thatmybox was on its back, but then my laughter was turned to concern as to the fate of the contents. I expected to find everything saturated, but was agreeably surprised, on opening it, to findthat the box had proved to be almost water-tight; the damage done was practically nothing, the contents were uninjured. It was no uncommon thing for the ponies to take a swim on their own account. On another occasion one of the provision boxes was immersed, and damage to sundry articles of food resulted. We crossed the Kjarrá again, and close by came upon the tents of an Englishman who had hired the salmon-fishing for the season. No salmon-fishing was to be had in that district, as all the good rivers had been hired out.

We camped at Hjartharholt, where we managed to get eggs for our evening meal; but as egg-cups were unattainable, we had difficulty in holding the eggs in our fingers, for their temperature was near boiling-point.

Next morning I got a very good picture of the haymakers at Hjartharholt just before we set out for Statharhraun. We proceeded down the valley of the Northrá, passing, on the way to Stafholt, a number of scarped ridges of lava—these escarpments were on both sides of the river, which flowed in the depression between two of them; in the background was the conical peak of Baula, and just to the left of it a peculiar pyramidal hill formation. There are two ways from Hjartharholt to Statharhraun—one via a valley known as Vestri-Skarthsheithi, and the other, less interesting, by way of Stafholt and across the low swampy level country lying between the headlands at the end of the mountain ranges and the open sea of Faxafloi. Through a misunderstanding we started along the wrong route, and before the mistake was discovered we were well on the journey over the swamps.

A peculiar feature, common in the stony and sandy regions, must be mentioned. The surface of the ground often appears as if it had been laid out in a sort of rough design, for large stones are to be seen arranged in lines, forming irregular figures with sandy and stony matter between. The sandy waste regions in which this feature is common is known by the namemelr, a word originally meaning "a kind of wild oat, especially bent grass,arundo arenaria, growing in sandy soil"; hence the term became applied to expanses of sand, or any waste place wheremelrmight grow. The explanation of these irregular figures seems to be that the earth becomes dry during the summer, and cracks under the influence of the sun's heat; when rain falls, the particles of sand and small stones are separated from the larger lumps and drain into the cracks, leaving a network of the large stones to mark their site.

Another peculiar feature was often met with, not only in desert regions, but elsewhere. I refer to the hard-looking surfaces—apparently gravelly areas with a few stones in them—that are really a kind of bog. A pony comes to a halt on the edge of one of them, and sniffs; its rider, a new-comer, unused to the country, urges his beast onward, but as a rule it will not go. If it does consent to move on a few paces it suddenly sinks in, and then makes a wild endeavour at recovery. After one or two experiences of this kind, the new-comer sometimes thinks it better to allow the pony to have its own way, for it seems that it knows more about the country and the nature of the ground than its rider does.

Our journey across the swamps was not devoid of incident, for the ponies were continually sinking into the boggy ground and performing violent gymnastics in their endeavours to reach something more solid. We had some compensation farther on, for after crossing the river Langá we had to round the headland locally named Mular, a word that means simply a jutting crag or headland, being equivalent to the ScottishMull. Here there are some very fine bold scarps of basalt having a number of hard and soft weathered dykes running through them, the former sticking out in places like horns; there was a quantity of birch scrub growing on the scree slopes (the talus) at the foot of the scarps. Thence we went on over broken lava and through birch scrub, past the entrance to the valley of Vestri-Skarthsheithi and the headland of Svarfholsmuli into the lava-filled valley of the Grjotá (Grjotardalr), where at Statharhraun we came to a halt.

For the next day I planned a circular journey which the local people soberly informed me would take twenty-four hours to cover. I wanted to see Vestri-Skarthsheithi, the valley that we had missed by coming across the swamps to Hjartharholt, and having formed the opinion that nothing like that time should be required, I strongly suspected that an endeavour was being made to "choke me off" the journey, and therefore announced my intention of trying whether it could be done in less time. We set out with only a moderate food-supply, which seemed to imply that Hannes did not consider the journey would occupy such a long time as that first estimated. We proceeded for some distancealong the track that we had traversed the previous day, and rounded Svarfholsmuli, where just at the entrance to Vestri-Skarthsheithi we pulled up at Hraundalur to consult with the farmer as to the route. I obtained a very good picture of Hannes and the farmer when in consultation.

HANNES AND THE FARMER IN CONSULTATION.

HANNES AND THE FARMER IN CONSULTATION.

HANNES AND THE FARMER IN CONSULTATION.

At this farm I found a woman with a dislike for cameras; she ran away when I happened to be pointing mine in her direction. I took a snapshot, but the shutter did not work properly, so it was a failure. Afterwards when pointing the camera in fun at her child, who was standing beside her close to the door of the farm-house, she mistook my intention, and snatching up the boy, ran hurriedly indoors with him, much to my amusement. We arrangedwith the farmer to come with us in the capacity of guide; so we started off together up Vestri-Skarthsheithi, along a track in the alluvium at the foot of the mountains of Svarfholsmuli, where the "going" was very good. The valley is filled with the lava from two volcanoes quite close to Langavatn, a lake just beyond the head of the valley. These are extinct volcanoes covered with brown scoriaceous lava, and the craters are well-marked depressions, though in each case there is a gap in the side through which much of the lava must have flowed. In the lava just below there are several small vent cones, miniature volcanoes that are quite hollow, which spurted up small streams of lava when the locality was a scene of eruptive activity. From this spot we struck up over the mountains in a north-easterly direction, and from the high altitudes attained, got some exceedingly fine views over a wide stretch ofcountry, comprising the ice-fields of Eyriks Jökull and Lang Jökull, the mountain group of Skarthsheithi, etc. Much nearer we looked down upon Lake Langavatn and towards the conical peak, Baula. On the other side we saw into the valley of the Grjotá, in which reposed Lake Grjotarvatn, and across to the range beyond, where very curious four-sided and three-sided pyramids rise high above the mountain ridge.

SMALL VENT CONES.

SMALL VENT CONES.

SMALL VENT CONES.

The ponies had some very stiff work in climbing these mountains and in scrambling down to the Grjotá valley; but we occasionally dismounted to give them a rest. Once in the valley, we were able to make good progress beside the river to the lake, where the shore on one side was composed of small shingle. The opportunity for a gallop was too goodto be missed, so we scampered the ponies along as hard as they could go, and they seemed to enjoy it quite as much as their riders did, for it is a rare thing to be able to gallop in Iceland. Just beyond the end of the lake we came to an extinct volcano, its truncated cone being covered with brown scoria; from this flowed the lava that now fills the valley of the Grjotá. There is no trace of lava on the lake side of the volcano, for it all flowed down towards the sea from a rift on the valley side. On we went down the valley, carefully picking our way through the lava, and travelling at a vastly different rate from that at which we had galloped beside the lake. About half a mile from Statharhraun we crossed the river Grjotá and made our way back to the farm-house, arriving there in something less than twenty-four hours from the start—to wit, within seven!

On our return there was an excellent supper ready, the result of a fishing expedition undertaken by Miss Hastie, the clergyman, and Jón. When returning, Miss Hastie's rod was broken beyond immediate repair by a collision with a pony, and it became the property of Jón, who doubtless patched it up at his leisure.

CHAPTER XIVTO ELDBORG AND HELGAFELLNext day, before proceeding on the direct route, Miss Hastie and I, with a local guide, made a short detour up Hitadalr. At first we picked our way through the lava, and then went on by the side of a comparatively small stream, a branch of the Grjotá. A few miles up the valley we came upon what was left of several volcanic cones, the tuff remains of which were spread over the valley. At one of these about one-third of the lip of the crater still existed, having on it a quantity of reddish scoria. The cindery tuff of these remains has weathered into very fantastic shapes. Farther up the valley the brown scoria-covered cone of a more recent volcano could be seen, but we had not time to go on, for we had to meet Jón and Hannes two or three miles beyond Statharhraun for lunch. Returning on the other side of the valley (the west), we rode along the alluvial deposits of the Hitá, a river that we crossed and recrossed several times. Near to the end of Fagraskogarfjall, a range of basalt, there is a peculiar hill, known as Gretisbali, standing away from it; this hill is a mass of cindery tuff in course of rapiddenudation, the result being a somewhat conical-looking hill very fantastically weather-worn. In a view that I took, the hill is on the left; to the right there is the main mass of the range, the horizontal lines of some of the basalt flows being just distinguishable. In between the basalt range and the tuff hill there is, coming down the valley, what looks (in the photograph) like a fan-shaped glacier, with a vertical face at the end, but it is merely the alluvium resulting from the denudation of the hill; the clean-cut face is due to the river Hitá, which flows very rapidly at the foot of the range, and carries away the alluvial matter as it falls over the edge of the fan. The foreground is part of a broken-up lava-field, where the vegetation is typical: birch scrub, dwarf willow, coarse grass that grows all over Iceland, mosses, etc.; they grow in the soil formed of the decomposed lava and wind-blown material filling the interstices.Opposite the hill and at the end of the range we found Jón and Hannes awaiting us, and as lunch was ready, we had our mid-day meal before proceeding on our way. After passing the end of the Fagraskogarfjall range we crossed the river Kaldá, a stream running down to the sea from the valley between the range just mentioned and that of Kolbeinstathafjall; thence we crossed a quantity of alluvium brought down from the valley and deposited by the Kaldá in a wide belt extending from the mountains to the sea. We were making for Eldborg (fire burgh, or fortress), a "recent" volcano often referred to in the Sagas. We soon passed from the alluvium to the lava-field around Eldborg, and thenascended by a gradual slope to the foot of the volcano, which is a mere ring of green scoria. Up the steep slope we scrambled to the top, and there found ourselves on the ridge of a very narrow ring of loose lava surrounding a deep crater—a great yawning hole in the earth below us. The lip is much serrated and weather-worn, and the broken lava of the sides is held together by the moss that grows in the interstices. From Eldborg we struck across a cotton-grass swamp, and had a bad time on the way—perhaps, however, the ponies had the worst of it, for we were seated on their backs, sticking on for "all we were worth," while they plunged and scrambled along, performing a series of remarkable feats as first a hind-leg, then a fore-leg, and sometimes two, three, or even all four legs, sank deep down into the soft, spongy matter of which the ground was composed. At last we came to the river Kaldá again, and crossed to the firmer alluvial ground, over which we cantered to the farm-house of Kolbeinstathir, where we camped for the night.As usual I occupied the church, which was now to be put to a new use. The farm-house was very small, and there being no guest-chamber in which we could take our meals, the church had to be requisitioned to supply the accommodation it lacked. We dined and breakfasted in it, and I took a photograph showing the corner in which the breakfast-table was laid. As a special mark of attention we were here supplied with coffee flavoured with cinnamon; now Miss Hastie had a firmly-rooted dislike to the flavour of cinnamon, so the attention fell flat in her case, and I dropped in for the good things the local goddesshad sent. Jugs and basins were rather scarce, and Miss Hastie had to perform her ablutions in the porridge bowl, while the water for that purpose was brought in the coffee-pot. At this farm haymaking was completed and the hay being brought in by ponies. The bundles were hooked upon a pack-saddle, one on each side of the pony.We had before us an interesting journey across the peninsula of Snaefellsnes from near Faxafloi, the sea south of it, to the great fjord on the north side, Breithifjord. From Kolbeinstathir to Rauthimelr we made our way chiefly over a series of swamps, where we had the usual experiences, and the ponies the usual bad times. Hannes' pony got bogged, and he was obliged to dismount in a particularly soft place. We skirted a plain of lava, or rather a series of lava flows surrounding the old volcanic cones from which they had issued; many of these were so distinct that there could be no difficulty in apportioning the lava to particular volcanoes, for the ends of some of the flows were vertical faces.Rauthimelr lies just at the foot of the mountains, and from the farm we struck up into them, for several miles following up a branch of the Haffjathurá, a river that we had previously crossed in the plain just by the edge of the lava. After awhile we reached a spring of water—a "carbonic acid" spring it is called. The water bubbles up from the ground under cover of a shed that has been erected over it; it contains soda in solution, and is strongly impregnated with carbonic acid gas. Were this spring in a more accessible place and the property of a mineral-water manufacturer, it would no doubt bring him a considerableaccession of wealth. The quality of the water is excellent, as I ascertained on taking a whisky and soda from it—that is, the soda-water came from it, the whisky being abstracted from our stock of medical comforts. Rauthamisolkaldá is the name of the spring—I did not trouble to commit it to memory, but made a note of it!The mountains over which we were passing were composed of a series of flows of basalt one upon another, and as usual in this formation we found many waterfalls in the course of the branch of the Haffjathurá that we continued to follow up. I took a photograph of the confluence of this branch with another (I could not ascertain their names—they did not seem to have any), and also of two of the waterfalls that we saw; there is a conical mountain in the background of one of them, but it is not a volcano—it is merely another instance of the typical weathering of a series of basalt flows.We caught sight of many fine peaks as we ascended, but just beyond the divide they were gradually shut out as we descended into what would have been a rather dull and uninteresting valley, but that after a mile or so the river flowing there (which at first increased in volume) gradually became smaller and smaller as we descended, and this in spite of the fact that a number of mountain streams coming down on each side of the valley added their waters to it; finally, the river disappeared altogether. I further noticed that the mountain streams had gradually been contributing less and less of their waters, and when the river was no more, the streams coming down the valley sides also disappeared before arrivingat its bottom. There was an underground river of considerable magnitude flowing down the valley beneath the great accumulations of moraine pebbles with which it was filled; as the pebbles were all of large size they were separated by large vacant spaces, and the thickness of the deposit must have increased very rapidly to allow the much greater volume of water to flow through it below the surface. Several miles lower down, where an area of flat land was met with, the river reappeared, flowing on the surface of the land once more, through fine grass country—a striking contrast to the dry valley of pebbles.We then came in view of the sea on the north side of Snaefell Peninsula at Alftafjord, a fjord that is dotted over with hundreds of islands, the majority of which are very small. From here we made a rapid descent to the shores of the fjord, where at Narfeyri we camped, later in the evening witnessing a very fine red sunset over the fjord. My pony behaved rather badly this day, stumbling frequently: he fell with me twice, nearly unseating me on the second occasion. It is really wonderful, when the state of the ground is considered, that the ponies do not stumble more often; some of them rarely ever make a mistake, others get a bit careless at times, and then they stumble along in a free and easy sort of way, though they rarely come a real "cropper."Next morning Miss Hastie was amused at the persistent staring of a small boy, who stolidly looked at her, in spells of ten to fifteen minutes without a blink, through the window of the guest-chamber where we were breakfasting. Afterwards, when I sallied out camera in hand, the same small boy turned hisattention to me, and eyed me just as attentively as he had Miss Hastie. I thought that a boy who could stare so well deserved to be immortalised, so I brought my camera to bear upon him, with the result that I have him in a characteristic attitude, staring for "all he was worth"; he wasquiteunconscious of what I was doing, and was not posing for his photograph. I have him in another picture, that below, in which Jón and Hannes are loading up a pony, and are hooking two of the boxes upon the pack-saddle; but though he was paying some attention to his collar, he still had his weather eye on me.HANNES AND JÓN LOADING UP A PONY.I obtained an excellent view of a field of cotton grass, in which several of our ponies were grazing, looking across the waters of Breithifjord. I also caught an old woman busy stacking peat, while smoking her pipe with evident enjoyment.On leaving Narfeyri we skirted the foot of themountains at the back of the farm-house, and passed round them towards the head of Alftafjord, a name signifying swan-fjord. This is one of the places where numerous swans resort during the breeding season. We had timed our start so as to catch the tide at the ebb when nearly low water; this enabled us, by crossing the fjord some little distance from its head, to cut off more than a mile. When in the middle of the water some of the bedding broke loose and got wetted. While the packs were being adjusted, the ponies stopped for a drink of salt water, for which they have a taste, and they indulge it whenever opportunity occurs.Our destination was Stykkisholm, whence we expected to embark in three or four days' time on board the ss.Vesta. After crossing the fjord we skirted it for awhile, proceeding in a northerly direction just at the foot of the mountains, which there came down close to the water's edge. We passed over a quantity of moraine material, and then entered green fertile-looking fields once more, where a number of farm-houses were dotted over an undulating tract of country. Before long we came upon a road, amaderoad leading over a series of basalt rises to Stykkisholm. When near Helgafell we made a slight divergence from the road to a farm-house, where we halted for lunch.Afterwards we went across to Helgafell, a hill of columnar basalt rising two or three hundred feet above the surrounding low-lying land. It was curious to note that wherever the columns were broken, there on the top, where a little soil had gathered, vegetation was growing in comparativeluxuriance. From the hilltop we obtained a most excellent view of the surroundings, comprising mountain and hill, sea and lake, a meandering river, islands and islets. There was plenty of light and shade and colour, sunshine and cloud, to make up a picture; but the scene could not be done justice to by camera, which only records physical features, and could not reproduce effects that impressed me. The hill is situated on a peninsula jutting into Breithifjord; it is the site of one of the earliest of the Christian churches built in the land. In "heathen days the hill was sacred to the god Thor," and before any one was permitted to look upon the holy place, he had to perform certain rites. Helgafell and the neighbourhood is often referred to in the Sagas. At the foot of the hill there are now a farm-house and a church. While passing the farm-house, one of the Iceland dogs made demonstrations of friendship—they are all more or less friendly—and he stood very nicely to have his photograph taken.From Helgafell to Stykkisholm is but a short distance, and we covered it in less than an hour. On the way we saw a very fine reflection of clouds in one of the branches of the fjord where the water was perfectly still, the beauty of the scene being due chiefly to the colours.

TO ELDBORG AND HELGAFELL

Next day, before proceeding on the direct route, Miss Hastie and I, with a local guide, made a short detour up Hitadalr. At first we picked our way through the lava, and then went on by the side of a comparatively small stream, a branch of the Grjotá. A few miles up the valley we came upon what was left of several volcanic cones, the tuff remains of which were spread over the valley. At one of these about one-third of the lip of the crater still existed, having on it a quantity of reddish scoria. The cindery tuff of these remains has weathered into very fantastic shapes. Farther up the valley the brown scoria-covered cone of a more recent volcano could be seen, but we had not time to go on, for we had to meet Jón and Hannes two or three miles beyond Statharhraun for lunch. Returning on the other side of the valley (the west), we rode along the alluvial deposits of the Hitá, a river that we crossed and recrossed several times. Near to the end of Fagraskogarfjall, a range of basalt, there is a peculiar hill, known as Gretisbali, standing away from it; this hill is a mass of cindery tuff in course of rapiddenudation, the result being a somewhat conical-looking hill very fantastically weather-worn. In a view that I took, the hill is on the left; to the right there is the main mass of the range, the horizontal lines of some of the basalt flows being just distinguishable. In between the basalt range and the tuff hill there is, coming down the valley, what looks (in the photograph) like a fan-shaped glacier, with a vertical face at the end, but it is merely the alluvium resulting from the denudation of the hill; the clean-cut face is due to the river Hitá, which flows very rapidly at the foot of the range, and carries away the alluvial matter as it falls over the edge of the fan. The foreground is part of a broken-up lava-field, where the vegetation is typical: birch scrub, dwarf willow, coarse grass that grows all over Iceland, mosses, etc.; they grow in the soil formed of the decomposed lava and wind-blown material filling the interstices.

Opposite the hill and at the end of the range we found Jón and Hannes awaiting us, and as lunch was ready, we had our mid-day meal before proceeding on our way. After passing the end of the Fagraskogarfjall range we crossed the river Kaldá, a stream running down to the sea from the valley between the range just mentioned and that of Kolbeinstathafjall; thence we crossed a quantity of alluvium brought down from the valley and deposited by the Kaldá in a wide belt extending from the mountains to the sea. We were making for Eldborg (fire burgh, or fortress), a "recent" volcano often referred to in the Sagas. We soon passed from the alluvium to the lava-field around Eldborg, and thenascended by a gradual slope to the foot of the volcano, which is a mere ring of green scoria. Up the steep slope we scrambled to the top, and there found ourselves on the ridge of a very narrow ring of loose lava surrounding a deep crater—a great yawning hole in the earth below us. The lip is much serrated and weather-worn, and the broken lava of the sides is held together by the moss that grows in the interstices. From Eldborg we struck across a cotton-grass swamp, and had a bad time on the way—perhaps, however, the ponies had the worst of it, for we were seated on their backs, sticking on for "all we were worth," while they plunged and scrambled along, performing a series of remarkable feats as first a hind-leg, then a fore-leg, and sometimes two, three, or even all four legs, sank deep down into the soft, spongy matter of which the ground was composed. At last we came to the river Kaldá again, and crossed to the firmer alluvial ground, over which we cantered to the farm-house of Kolbeinstathir, where we camped for the night.

As usual I occupied the church, which was now to be put to a new use. The farm-house was very small, and there being no guest-chamber in which we could take our meals, the church had to be requisitioned to supply the accommodation it lacked. We dined and breakfasted in it, and I took a photograph showing the corner in which the breakfast-table was laid. As a special mark of attention we were here supplied with coffee flavoured with cinnamon; now Miss Hastie had a firmly-rooted dislike to the flavour of cinnamon, so the attention fell flat in her case, and I dropped in for the good things the local goddesshad sent. Jugs and basins were rather scarce, and Miss Hastie had to perform her ablutions in the porridge bowl, while the water for that purpose was brought in the coffee-pot. At this farm haymaking was completed and the hay being brought in by ponies. The bundles were hooked upon a pack-saddle, one on each side of the pony.

We had before us an interesting journey across the peninsula of Snaefellsnes from near Faxafloi, the sea south of it, to the great fjord on the north side, Breithifjord. From Kolbeinstathir to Rauthimelr we made our way chiefly over a series of swamps, where we had the usual experiences, and the ponies the usual bad times. Hannes' pony got bogged, and he was obliged to dismount in a particularly soft place. We skirted a plain of lava, or rather a series of lava flows surrounding the old volcanic cones from which they had issued; many of these were so distinct that there could be no difficulty in apportioning the lava to particular volcanoes, for the ends of some of the flows were vertical faces.

Rauthimelr lies just at the foot of the mountains, and from the farm we struck up into them, for several miles following up a branch of the Haffjathurá, a river that we had previously crossed in the plain just by the edge of the lava. After awhile we reached a spring of water—a "carbonic acid" spring it is called. The water bubbles up from the ground under cover of a shed that has been erected over it; it contains soda in solution, and is strongly impregnated with carbonic acid gas. Were this spring in a more accessible place and the property of a mineral-water manufacturer, it would no doubt bring him a considerableaccession of wealth. The quality of the water is excellent, as I ascertained on taking a whisky and soda from it—that is, the soda-water came from it, the whisky being abstracted from our stock of medical comforts. Rauthamisolkaldá is the name of the spring—I did not trouble to commit it to memory, but made a note of it!

The mountains over which we were passing were composed of a series of flows of basalt one upon another, and as usual in this formation we found many waterfalls in the course of the branch of the Haffjathurá that we continued to follow up. I took a photograph of the confluence of this branch with another (I could not ascertain their names—they did not seem to have any), and also of two of the waterfalls that we saw; there is a conical mountain in the background of one of them, but it is not a volcano—it is merely another instance of the typical weathering of a series of basalt flows.

We caught sight of many fine peaks as we ascended, but just beyond the divide they were gradually shut out as we descended into what would have been a rather dull and uninteresting valley, but that after a mile or so the river flowing there (which at first increased in volume) gradually became smaller and smaller as we descended, and this in spite of the fact that a number of mountain streams coming down on each side of the valley added their waters to it; finally, the river disappeared altogether. I further noticed that the mountain streams had gradually been contributing less and less of their waters, and when the river was no more, the streams coming down the valley sides also disappeared before arrivingat its bottom. There was an underground river of considerable magnitude flowing down the valley beneath the great accumulations of moraine pebbles with which it was filled; as the pebbles were all of large size they were separated by large vacant spaces, and the thickness of the deposit must have increased very rapidly to allow the much greater volume of water to flow through it below the surface. Several miles lower down, where an area of flat land was met with, the river reappeared, flowing on the surface of the land once more, through fine grass country—a striking contrast to the dry valley of pebbles.

We then came in view of the sea on the north side of Snaefell Peninsula at Alftafjord, a fjord that is dotted over with hundreds of islands, the majority of which are very small. From here we made a rapid descent to the shores of the fjord, where at Narfeyri we camped, later in the evening witnessing a very fine red sunset over the fjord. My pony behaved rather badly this day, stumbling frequently: he fell with me twice, nearly unseating me on the second occasion. It is really wonderful, when the state of the ground is considered, that the ponies do not stumble more often; some of them rarely ever make a mistake, others get a bit careless at times, and then they stumble along in a free and easy sort of way, though they rarely come a real "cropper."

Next morning Miss Hastie was amused at the persistent staring of a small boy, who stolidly looked at her, in spells of ten to fifteen minutes without a blink, through the window of the guest-chamber where we were breakfasting. Afterwards, when I sallied out camera in hand, the same small boy turned hisattention to me, and eyed me just as attentively as he had Miss Hastie. I thought that a boy who could stare so well deserved to be immortalised, so I brought my camera to bear upon him, with the result that I have him in a characteristic attitude, staring for "all he was worth"; he wasquiteunconscious of what I was doing, and was not posing for his photograph. I have him in another picture, that below, in which Jón and Hannes are loading up a pony, and are hooking two of the boxes upon the pack-saddle; but though he was paying some attention to his collar, he still had his weather eye on me.

HANNES AND JÓN LOADING UP A PONY.

HANNES AND JÓN LOADING UP A PONY.

HANNES AND JÓN LOADING UP A PONY.

I obtained an excellent view of a field of cotton grass, in which several of our ponies were grazing, looking across the waters of Breithifjord. I also caught an old woman busy stacking peat, while smoking her pipe with evident enjoyment.

On leaving Narfeyri we skirted the foot of themountains at the back of the farm-house, and passed round them towards the head of Alftafjord, a name signifying swan-fjord. This is one of the places where numerous swans resort during the breeding season. We had timed our start so as to catch the tide at the ebb when nearly low water; this enabled us, by crossing the fjord some little distance from its head, to cut off more than a mile. When in the middle of the water some of the bedding broke loose and got wetted. While the packs were being adjusted, the ponies stopped for a drink of salt water, for which they have a taste, and they indulge it whenever opportunity occurs.

Our destination was Stykkisholm, whence we expected to embark in three or four days' time on board the ss.Vesta. After crossing the fjord we skirted it for awhile, proceeding in a northerly direction just at the foot of the mountains, which there came down close to the water's edge. We passed over a quantity of moraine material, and then entered green fertile-looking fields once more, where a number of farm-houses were dotted over an undulating tract of country. Before long we came upon a road, amaderoad leading over a series of basalt rises to Stykkisholm. When near Helgafell we made a slight divergence from the road to a farm-house, where we halted for lunch.

Afterwards we went across to Helgafell, a hill of columnar basalt rising two or three hundred feet above the surrounding low-lying land. It was curious to note that wherever the columns were broken, there on the top, where a little soil had gathered, vegetation was growing in comparativeluxuriance. From the hilltop we obtained a most excellent view of the surroundings, comprising mountain and hill, sea and lake, a meandering river, islands and islets. There was plenty of light and shade and colour, sunshine and cloud, to make up a picture; but the scene could not be done justice to by camera, which only records physical features, and could not reproduce effects that impressed me. The hill is situated on a peninsula jutting into Breithifjord; it is the site of one of the earliest of the Christian churches built in the land. In "heathen days the hill was sacred to the god Thor," and before any one was permitted to look upon the holy place, he had to perform certain rites. Helgafell and the neighbourhood is often referred to in the Sagas. At the foot of the hill there are now a farm-house and a church. While passing the farm-house, one of the Iceland dogs made demonstrations of friendship—they are all more or less friendly—and he stood very nicely to have his photograph taken.

From Helgafell to Stykkisholm is but a short distance, and we covered it in less than an hour. On the way we saw a very fine reflection of clouds in one of the branches of the fjord where the water was perfectly still, the beauty of the scene being due chiefly to the colours.

CHAPTER XVSTYKKISHOLM AND BERSERKJAHRAUNStykkisholm is a very picturesque little town built in a valley and on the slopes of the enclosing hills. It is situated at the extreme end of the peninsula, overlooking Breithifjord and its branch, Hvammsfjord. In front of the town, the island of Sugandisey acts as a sort of breakwater, and affords shelter from storms to small craft. This island is composed of columnar basalt; it is a striking feature in the surrounding scenery, where hundreds of smaller islands dot the fjord.We were put up at the house of the Rural Dean of the district, where we remained for two or three days exploring the neighbourhood until the steamer from Reykjavik called on its way to the fjords of the north-west, north and east coasts. Here at Stykkisholm Miss Hastie and I changed about as regards sleeping apartments, for she occupied the guest-chamber in our host's house, while I camped in the tent that she had abandoned. The tent was pitched in the grounds of an adjoining house, the owners of which did not seem to mind at all, for they readily granted permission for it to be put up there.The next day, Sunday, it rained as usual, so we did not go very far from the house.THE COLUMNAR BASALT ISLAND, SUGANDISEY.On Monday, accompanied by our host, we set out for a mountain to the south of Helgafell, where it was rumoured specimens of coal, lignite, and gold were to be seen, but we had doubts as to what we should find. On the way I had a difference of opinion with my pony. He had lately developed a habit of suddenly jumping aside from all pools of water that lay in his path. I had previously not checked the growing habit, but after the previous day's rain the road was a series of puddles, so I objected to being continually switched off to right or left at the pony's sweet will, and therefore brought him up to all the puddles. At first he would not go through unless brought up to them from ten to twenty times; atlast, however, he consented to do it in fewer, and at the end of the day's journey he was completely broken in. We took the road via Helgafell to Saurar, and thence traversed a swamp, some moraine matter, and alluvium to the foot of the mountain that was our destination, Drapuhlitharfjall—a name that Miss Hastie vainly endeavoured for days to get the correct pronunciation of, and I am not at all sure that I was quite successful myself. The mountain is a mass of liparite, which is there found in all its varieties. I had strongly suspected the so-called coal to be obsidian, the black form of liparite; and on ascending the mountain to the spot where it was supposed to exist, obsidian it was found to be. Having camera in hand, I had an awkward scramble up a very steep scree slope, and I often started small avalanches, which scattered in all directions on their descent. Our host ascended by a longer and easier route: he was up before me, and crossed the scree at a higher altitude, with the result that he started an avalanche of big jagged boulders that passed perilously near to where I was lying flat upon the slope and endeavouring to wriggle upward—a yell from me caused him to wait until I had reached his level before proceeding farther.We lunched on the mountain-side, and then went down to the supposed gold mine at its foot. On the way up we had called at a farm-house on the lower slopes of the mountain, and had there enlisted the services of the farmer to show us the shortest way up to the coal (!) and to dig out some gold. He had come provided with pick and shovel, so on reaching the mine he set to work and soon handed up a quantity of earth having a number of bright, shining,yellow metallic crystals in it, and these he pointed out as the gold. I smiled, having seen much of the same sort of thing in other parts of the world. It was iron pyrites! The mistake was not to be wondered at, for the metal had deceived many people before. I told the man that he would not get much gold out of it; but he did not seem to believe me, for he stated that a quantity of it had been sent to America, had there been tested, and had been reported on to the effect that of gold there was "a trace."The search for gold having proved abortive, we returned to the farm-house. It was then raining hard. I wanted, before leaving the neighbourhood, to pay a visit to a lava-field some two hours distant, so I let Hannes decide whether we should go on through the rain, or make a separate journey there on the morrow. Hannes elected to go on then, because he wanted, if possible, to giveallthe ponies a rest the next day, for he was to start with them on the way back to Reykjavik the following day. We set out in torrents of rain—Hannes and I, the rest of the party remaining under shelter at the farm-house, where they were regaled with coffee, etc. I fancy they thought me a lunatic, but I was bent on seeing the lava-field of the Berserkers, where two members of that race are reported to lie buried. We started with the rain beating in our faces; the going was good, for the ground was alluvial, so Hannes led off at a hand gallop, in the evident intention of "getting through with it" as quickly as possible. I followed close at his pony's heels, and away we went through a perfect deluge of rain. It beat violently in our faces, but we did not care, enveloped in oilskins aswe were; and save for my face, which was thoroughly well washed, and for a few drops of water that trickled down my neck, I rode through it all with dry skin. The rate at which we travelled brought us to the edge of the lava-field in far less than the two hours stated as necessary for the journey; in fact, we got there in about an hour and a quarter. In the last quarter of an hour the weather, as so often happens in Iceland, underwent a very rapid change: the rain ceased, the clouds condensed over the hills and finally rolled away, and by the time that we were ready to return, it was a fine clear evening.The story connected with the Berserkers' lava-field (Berserkjahraun) is related in the Eyrbyggja Saga; it is as follows. There were two Berserkers, or Berserks, brothers named Halli and Leiknir, one of whom was anxious to obtain in marriage Ásdisa, the daughter of one Styr; but Styr had no fancy for the marriage, for he regarded him as unworthy of his daughter; yet he had not the courage to decline the match, because the Berserks were men of valour, and he did not think it safe to decline; so he was diplomatic and sought a way to circumvent them. He consulted one Snorri, a priest, with the result that Styr imposed a task upon the Berserks, that they should make a road through the lava-field within a time that he considered an impossible one, agreeing that on the successful completion of the work his daughter should be given in marriage to one of them, though which was the suitor is not mentioned in the Saga. The Berserks willingly undertook the task, for they were strong men andhad confidence in their own powers, and they set about the work in earnest. It soon became apparent to Styr that he had misjudged the capabilities of the two Berserks, and that they would complete their undertaking within the allotted time; so he thought out a scheme and built a bath-house. When the Berserks had finished making the road—and a very good road it is, as the photograph shows, certainly the best pathway that I met with in lava—Styr invited them to take a warm bath, remarking that they would find it very refreshing after their arduous labours. He had prepared for their reception, and the furnaces had been heated far beyond what was necessary. The Berserks accepted the invitation and entered the bath unsuspectingly. They thought it hot, but on finding the water becoming much hotter, they concluded that something must bewrong, and their suspicion was confirmed when they discovered that the door had been barricaded against them. They were strong men, as has been stated, and their strength was equal to the occasion, for they broke down the door. Now this contingency had been provided for: a fresh ox-hide had been spread outside the door, so when the Berserks emerged with a rush, they fell when crossing the slippery hide; one was slain as he lay sprawling on the ground, while the other was thrust back into the bath and soon became boiled Berserk. Styr afterwards went around bragging of his prowess! The pith of the story lies in the sequel, for Snorri, the priest, married Ásdisa!THE BERSERKERS' ROAD THROUGH THE LAVA-FIELD.In the lava, just beside the road through it, there is a mound where the Berserks are said to lie buried; that may be so or not, but the mound was opened some time ago and human remains there found. The mound is shown in the picture of the lava-field—a small square patch just in front of the two ponies that we left standing on the pathway to indicate the spot. The Berserkjahraun farm-house lies in the middle of some hummocky land adjoining the lava-field; it is built on the site of Styr's house and named after the Berserks.The weather was most unfavourable next day, for it rained during the greater part of it, the result being that we were confined to the house until late in the evening. However, we made an inspection of the library, where there is the nucleus of a good collection of books; it is questionable, though, whether the books will last long, for the dampness of the atmosphere is already playing havoc with them:many that I took down from their shelves were in a badly mildewed state, the leaves and binding being already in an advanced stage of decomposition. The following day we were to have embarked on board theVesta, and to have set sail from Stykkisholm. The vessel hove in sight at about ten in the morning, but a very strong wind was blowing—straight in shore, too; so she remained all day under shelter of an island a few miles out to sea, and did not come to Stykkisholm till about eleven at night. The weather was fine overhead during the day, so we were able to get out a bit. I took a number of photographs, including several of the town; one showing the sea-front was taken from a small headland a few yards away from my tent. Our hostess kindly sat for her photograph attired in the national costume, which is donned on high days, holidays, and festivals. The headdress (faldris the Icelandic name) is peculiar; it is in shape somewhat like the French cap of Liberty, with a horn curling over to the front, and having a short veil which is thrown back from the head; a gold or silver band is, as a rule, worn round the forehead just below the cap. When wearing the ordinary head-gear a lady's dress is not considered complete unless an apron is worn, and it is not at all the thing to appear in public without one. With thefaldran apron isnotnecessary.Jón and Hannes set out early in the afternoon on the return journey to Reykjavik. I attempted to photograph them just as they were leaving the grounds at the back of our host's house, and again when the pack-train was ascending the main street, with Jón and Hannes bringing up the rear—the lastI saw of them; but the shutter of the camera jammed, so the pictures were failures.In the afternoon Miss Hastie went for a ride, using an Icelandic lady's saddle, but she did not go far, for she did not take kindly to it.We took leave of our kind host and hostess after coffee next morning, and went on board theVestafor breakfast. As we proceeded to the wharf, we passed some women who were carrying goods on bearers and loading up small cargo-boats for shipment by theVesta.

STYKKISHOLM AND BERSERKJAHRAUN

Stykkisholm is a very picturesque little town built in a valley and on the slopes of the enclosing hills. It is situated at the extreme end of the peninsula, overlooking Breithifjord and its branch, Hvammsfjord. In front of the town, the island of Sugandisey acts as a sort of breakwater, and affords shelter from storms to small craft. This island is composed of columnar basalt; it is a striking feature in the surrounding scenery, where hundreds of smaller islands dot the fjord.

We were put up at the house of the Rural Dean of the district, where we remained for two or three days exploring the neighbourhood until the steamer from Reykjavik called on its way to the fjords of the north-west, north and east coasts. Here at Stykkisholm Miss Hastie and I changed about as regards sleeping apartments, for she occupied the guest-chamber in our host's house, while I camped in the tent that she had abandoned. The tent was pitched in the grounds of an adjoining house, the owners of which did not seem to mind at all, for they readily granted permission for it to be put up there.

The next day, Sunday, it rained as usual, so we did not go very far from the house.

THE COLUMNAR BASALT ISLAND, SUGANDISEY.

THE COLUMNAR BASALT ISLAND, SUGANDISEY.

THE COLUMNAR BASALT ISLAND, SUGANDISEY.

On Monday, accompanied by our host, we set out for a mountain to the south of Helgafell, where it was rumoured specimens of coal, lignite, and gold were to be seen, but we had doubts as to what we should find. On the way I had a difference of opinion with my pony. He had lately developed a habit of suddenly jumping aside from all pools of water that lay in his path. I had previously not checked the growing habit, but after the previous day's rain the road was a series of puddles, so I objected to being continually switched off to right or left at the pony's sweet will, and therefore brought him up to all the puddles. At first he would not go through unless brought up to them from ten to twenty times; atlast, however, he consented to do it in fewer, and at the end of the day's journey he was completely broken in. We took the road via Helgafell to Saurar, and thence traversed a swamp, some moraine matter, and alluvium to the foot of the mountain that was our destination, Drapuhlitharfjall—a name that Miss Hastie vainly endeavoured for days to get the correct pronunciation of, and I am not at all sure that I was quite successful myself. The mountain is a mass of liparite, which is there found in all its varieties. I had strongly suspected the so-called coal to be obsidian, the black form of liparite; and on ascending the mountain to the spot where it was supposed to exist, obsidian it was found to be. Having camera in hand, I had an awkward scramble up a very steep scree slope, and I often started small avalanches, which scattered in all directions on their descent. Our host ascended by a longer and easier route: he was up before me, and crossed the scree at a higher altitude, with the result that he started an avalanche of big jagged boulders that passed perilously near to where I was lying flat upon the slope and endeavouring to wriggle upward—a yell from me caused him to wait until I had reached his level before proceeding farther.

We lunched on the mountain-side, and then went down to the supposed gold mine at its foot. On the way up we had called at a farm-house on the lower slopes of the mountain, and had there enlisted the services of the farmer to show us the shortest way up to the coal (!) and to dig out some gold. He had come provided with pick and shovel, so on reaching the mine he set to work and soon handed up a quantity of earth having a number of bright, shining,yellow metallic crystals in it, and these he pointed out as the gold. I smiled, having seen much of the same sort of thing in other parts of the world. It was iron pyrites! The mistake was not to be wondered at, for the metal had deceived many people before. I told the man that he would not get much gold out of it; but he did not seem to believe me, for he stated that a quantity of it had been sent to America, had there been tested, and had been reported on to the effect that of gold there was "a trace."

The search for gold having proved abortive, we returned to the farm-house. It was then raining hard. I wanted, before leaving the neighbourhood, to pay a visit to a lava-field some two hours distant, so I let Hannes decide whether we should go on through the rain, or make a separate journey there on the morrow. Hannes elected to go on then, because he wanted, if possible, to giveallthe ponies a rest the next day, for he was to start with them on the way back to Reykjavik the following day. We set out in torrents of rain—Hannes and I, the rest of the party remaining under shelter at the farm-house, where they were regaled with coffee, etc. I fancy they thought me a lunatic, but I was bent on seeing the lava-field of the Berserkers, where two members of that race are reported to lie buried. We started with the rain beating in our faces; the going was good, for the ground was alluvial, so Hannes led off at a hand gallop, in the evident intention of "getting through with it" as quickly as possible. I followed close at his pony's heels, and away we went through a perfect deluge of rain. It beat violently in our faces, but we did not care, enveloped in oilskins aswe were; and save for my face, which was thoroughly well washed, and for a few drops of water that trickled down my neck, I rode through it all with dry skin. The rate at which we travelled brought us to the edge of the lava-field in far less than the two hours stated as necessary for the journey; in fact, we got there in about an hour and a quarter. In the last quarter of an hour the weather, as so often happens in Iceland, underwent a very rapid change: the rain ceased, the clouds condensed over the hills and finally rolled away, and by the time that we were ready to return, it was a fine clear evening.

The story connected with the Berserkers' lava-field (Berserkjahraun) is related in the Eyrbyggja Saga; it is as follows. There were two Berserkers, or Berserks, brothers named Halli and Leiknir, one of whom was anxious to obtain in marriage Ásdisa, the daughter of one Styr; but Styr had no fancy for the marriage, for he regarded him as unworthy of his daughter; yet he had not the courage to decline the match, because the Berserks were men of valour, and he did not think it safe to decline; so he was diplomatic and sought a way to circumvent them. He consulted one Snorri, a priest, with the result that Styr imposed a task upon the Berserks, that they should make a road through the lava-field within a time that he considered an impossible one, agreeing that on the successful completion of the work his daughter should be given in marriage to one of them, though which was the suitor is not mentioned in the Saga. The Berserks willingly undertook the task, for they were strong men andhad confidence in their own powers, and they set about the work in earnest. It soon became apparent to Styr that he had misjudged the capabilities of the two Berserks, and that they would complete their undertaking within the allotted time; so he thought out a scheme and built a bath-house. When the Berserks had finished making the road—and a very good road it is, as the photograph shows, certainly the best pathway that I met with in lava—Styr invited them to take a warm bath, remarking that they would find it very refreshing after their arduous labours. He had prepared for their reception, and the furnaces had been heated far beyond what was necessary. The Berserks accepted the invitation and entered the bath unsuspectingly. They thought it hot, but on finding the water becoming much hotter, they concluded that something must bewrong, and their suspicion was confirmed when they discovered that the door had been barricaded against them. They were strong men, as has been stated, and their strength was equal to the occasion, for they broke down the door. Now this contingency had been provided for: a fresh ox-hide had been spread outside the door, so when the Berserks emerged with a rush, they fell when crossing the slippery hide; one was slain as he lay sprawling on the ground, while the other was thrust back into the bath and soon became boiled Berserk. Styr afterwards went around bragging of his prowess! The pith of the story lies in the sequel, for Snorri, the priest, married Ásdisa!

THE BERSERKERS' ROAD THROUGH THE LAVA-FIELD.

THE BERSERKERS' ROAD THROUGH THE LAVA-FIELD.

THE BERSERKERS' ROAD THROUGH THE LAVA-FIELD.

In the lava, just beside the road through it, there is a mound where the Berserks are said to lie buried; that may be so or not, but the mound was opened some time ago and human remains there found. The mound is shown in the picture of the lava-field—a small square patch just in front of the two ponies that we left standing on the pathway to indicate the spot. The Berserkjahraun farm-house lies in the middle of some hummocky land adjoining the lava-field; it is built on the site of Styr's house and named after the Berserks.

The weather was most unfavourable next day, for it rained during the greater part of it, the result being that we were confined to the house until late in the evening. However, we made an inspection of the library, where there is the nucleus of a good collection of books; it is questionable, though, whether the books will last long, for the dampness of the atmosphere is already playing havoc with them:many that I took down from their shelves were in a badly mildewed state, the leaves and binding being already in an advanced stage of decomposition. The following day we were to have embarked on board theVesta, and to have set sail from Stykkisholm. The vessel hove in sight at about ten in the morning, but a very strong wind was blowing—straight in shore, too; so she remained all day under shelter of an island a few miles out to sea, and did not come to Stykkisholm till about eleven at night. The weather was fine overhead during the day, so we were able to get out a bit. I took a number of photographs, including several of the town; one showing the sea-front was taken from a small headland a few yards away from my tent. Our hostess kindly sat for her photograph attired in the national costume, which is donned on high days, holidays, and festivals. The headdress (faldris the Icelandic name) is peculiar; it is in shape somewhat like the French cap of Liberty, with a horn curling over to the front, and having a short veil which is thrown back from the head; a gold or silver band is, as a rule, worn round the forehead just below the cap. When wearing the ordinary head-gear a lady's dress is not considered complete unless an apron is worn, and it is not at all the thing to appear in public without one. With thefaldran apron isnotnecessary.

Jón and Hannes set out early in the afternoon on the return journey to Reykjavik. I attempted to photograph them just as they were leaving the grounds at the back of our host's house, and again when the pack-train was ascending the main street, with Jón and Hannes bringing up the rear—the lastI saw of them; but the shutter of the camera jammed, so the pictures were failures.

In the afternoon Miss Hastie went for a ride, using an Icelandic lady's saddle, but she did not go far, for she did not take kindly to it.

We took leave of our kind host and hostess after coffee next morning, and went on board theVestafor breakfast. As we proceeded to the wharf, we passed some women who were carrying goods on bearers and loading up small cargo-boats for shipment by theVesta.

CHAPTER XVITHE NORTH-WEST PENINSULATheVestaset sail at about 1p.m., shaping a course northward in Breithifjord through a sea of small islands, which I thought to be the remains of old lava flows denuded and perhaps sunk below sea-level. I had no opportunity of examining them, but they are said to be "crater islets," most of them. The sea in Breithifjord is very shallow, and on the journey to the island of Flatey, and afterwards thence towards the open ocean, our course was anything but a straight one; so shallow was the water in one place after leaving Flatey, that the wash of our vessel raised breakers on the edge of a long line of submerged bank lying parallel to and not far from our course.Flatey is one of the remains of a broken-up lava flow; a small island opposite the town has a peculiar circular harbour whose shape is rather suggestive of a coral atoll, but perhaps this is one of the "crater islets." I did not examine it, because we had no opportunity of going ashore: we arrived just as dinner was announced, and steamed away within ten minutes of the completion of the meal. The watersof Breithifjord were alive with thousands of puffins, which flapped along the surface of the water or dived beneath it as our vessel approached. We passed through miles of them while skirting the southern coast of the North-West Peninsula. The sea was quite calm as we steamed out of the fjord and rounded the south-western corner of the peninsula, in strong contrast to the heavy winds and stormy seas of the day before. We entered Patreksfjord when it was growing dark, and came to an anchorage just at midnight.In the early morning I turned out to look at the scenery in Patreksfjord; it was rather forbidding. We were surrounded by high mountains which came steeply down to the water's edge, there being but little land available for cultivation or for grazing purposes in consequence. I found that there would be no time to go ashore, for we were to start in half an hour's time, and there was no boat available to take me; in any case, there was nothing much but the wild surroundings to be seen, and they could be viewed just as well from the vessel's deck.At about breakfast-time we arrived opposite to Biludalr in Arnarfjord. We were in a decidedly picturesque spot, and no doubt we were more favourably impressed because of the clear bright sky and sunny weather. Ashore, the chief interest centred in the cod-fish curing and storing station, where many women, assisted by a few men, were employed in the various branches of the industry. It was the best-equipped station that I saw in Iceland; everything seemed to be in order, and to be carried on in a thoroughly business-like way. There was a tramline running between two long rows of well-built galvanised iron sheds that lined the track.A BASALT MOUNTAIN CONE DUE TO EROSION.It was in this fjord while on the way out that I obtained, on the north side, a photograph showing excellently the typical cone-like form to which a succession of basalt flows are reduced by erosion. There were other features of interest: on the south side of the fjord there were many fine specimens of corries, but the position of the sun prevented a successful attempt being made to photograph them, though, just when turning into Dyrafjord, I caught a good specimen in a suitable light. A little farther on, at Hraun, there was a view looking up a valley where the face of a moraine is kept straight by the wash of the sea at its base. We proceeded up Dyrafjord as far as Thingeyri, wherewe anchored. Distant about three miles, at Framnes, there was a whale-fishing station, where whales, brought in by the whalers, were being reduced to the commercial forms of oil, bone, and manure. We—a party of four—obtained a boat and sailed across to the station. We were courteously received by the foreman, who kindly showed us over the factory and explained matters as we proceeded; he was a Norwegian who had been whale-fishing for seventeen years before he was appointed foreman of these works. The first thing that struck us—so severely, indeed, that we were nearly bowled over—was a very choice assortment of "smells" of the most objectionable kind: they had a distinct flavour of ancient whale, and were all more or less (generally more, and sometimes most) disgusting. We were conducted by the foreman to a platform where the whales were cut up. A dozen or more were floating in the water beyond some wooden staging that jutted out into the fjord. They are kept there until required to be cut up and placed in the boiling-down vats; then one is hauled upon the platform and cut into big slabs. The platform was a horrible sight, covered as it was with slimy offal and refuse; this stuff, being valueless, is disposed of by being shot into the fjord, there to pollute its water. Below the platform a similar state of things existed, and the stench that arose from the decomposing matter was too disgusting for words to describe.The slabs of blubber are thrown into a rotary machine, where a number of knives reduce them to pieces of much smaller size; thence the blubber is taken into the boiling-down room and boiled for tenhours in great cylindrical tanks by having steam passed through. At the expiration of that time the oil has been set free and is floating on the top, whence it is drawn off into casks; it is then shipped to Glasgow to be refined. The whale-bone, which is taken from the upper jaw of the head, is cut away and piled in heaps in a yard near the cutting-up platform. The bones are sent to another room, and are there boiled; they are then dried and ground to a fine powder; this bone dust is exported in sacks for manure. The refuse of the blubber, after the extraction of the oil, is dried in special revolving machines, which reduce it to the consistency of coarse meal; this also is used as manure, and commercially is called guano. The whale-bone is taken from the heaps to the shed; it is first pulled apart and then washed in vats containing soda and water; it is afterwards dried, when it is ready for exportation. In the blacksmith's shop we were shown the harpoons used on the whaling-vessels in securing the whales. They are shot from a short cannon into the whale; the head is hollow, and is filled with gunpowder; when the whale dashes off, the tension on the line attached to the harpoon causes the arrowheaded blades to expand and the charge of gunpowder to explode; the shell bursts and usually kills the whale. A vessel carries two harpoons, to each of which three hundred fathoms of rope is attached; the second harpoon is discharged if the first does not kill the whale. I took a photograph at Thorshavn in the Faroes showing a modern whaling-vessel. The bird's-nest where the look-out man is posted is on the foremast, and the harpoon gun is in the bows of thevessel. We returned to theVestawith the distinct impression that we were taking along with us on boots and clothes some remnants of smelly whale, for the odour seemed to stick to us and accompany us wherever we went; it was days before all suspicion of whale wore away.The next port of call, in Onundarfjord, was not very interesting as regards scenery. The chief industry is carried on at a large whale-fishing and boiling-down station at Flateyri, where we anchored opposite the town. The presence of the station was made evident to me as I lay in my bunk in the small hours of the morning, by the fine full-flavoured aroma that came wafting into the cabin through the open port-hole. We made but a short stay at this port, for we departed before breakfast, and were thus enabled to enjoy that meal free from the disturbing influences of whale.We entered Skutilsfjord, a branch of Isafjord, at about mid-day, and anchored opposite the town of the same name, Isafjord. Miss Hastie and I went ashore soon afterwards and proceeded up the valley towards Flateyri, intending to walk to the ridge overlooking Onundarfjord; but the Fates, in the form of bad weather, were against us, for it rained so heavily that we abandoned our original intention after we had ascended to a considerable altitude and had become thoroughly wetted. We stood for awhile with our backs against the leeward side of a cairn on the mountain-side, trying to imagine that we had effectual shelter; but as the cairn was of rather less height than we ourselves, and as we could feel the raindrops trickling down the backs of our necks, thereality was rather at variance with our attempts at imagination. Shelter or no shelter, we stuck to our posts while devouring biscuits and cheese, and sandwiches made of Danish sausage and such like greasy delicacies, and did not abandon our post, or the intention of going to the summit of the divide, until we had finished lunch and had become uncomfortably soaked. Then we retraced our steps down the valley, by the side of a small stream that descended in a series of rapids and waterfalls. On the way we met some men road-making, and found them using a cart for conveying material for the purpose from a quarry on the road-side—the first cart that I had seen in use in Iceland. Almost opposite to our anchorage there was a good example of a small corrie high up above the water of the fjord, but the photograph proved a failure. Isafjord is reputed to be the third town in Iceland in point of population; its importance is due to the cod and herring fisheries, and to the establishments where curing is carried on. A small cod-liver oil factory emitted an odour that caused us to avoid its immediate vicinity. With regard to this oil, it has been said that some of the so-called cod-liver oil is not derived from the cod at all, but is really produced from the liver of the Greenland Shark, known locally ashakarë(Danish namehaukal). I was assured, however, by one Danish merchant that this is not the case. Modern inventions were brought to mind on seeing telephone posts and the wire that connects Isafjord with Eyri. I ought to mention that one modern invention, the cream separator, is in common use on the best farms throughout Iceland. I was often awakened in the morning by hearing the whirringof the rapidly rotating cylinder of the machine. A whale-fishing establishment was said to be somewhere in the main branch of Isafjord away round the point, but we could not see it when coming in, and we were quite content not to smell it. It was doubtless several miles distant, though that avails but little when the wind blows from the direction of decaying or boiling whales.We left Isafjord in the early morning, and between 7 and 8a.m.rounded the northernmost point of the North-West Peninsula, known as The Horn, or North Cape. It is said to be a bold, striking headland; but as the upper portion was enveloped in fog, we could not see it properly. Fog soon afterwards descended over the sea, and the vessel slowed down to half speed; while the steam-whistle screeched out at short intervals its warning to other vessels. The result was, that we saw nothing whatever of the coast along which we were passing. It was a great pity, for that part of the peninsula, which faces north-east and is known as the Hornstrandr, is the wildest, most inhospitable, and one of the least productive regions of Iceland. There the inhabitants eke out a precarious livelihood chiefly by wild-fowling—a most dangerous occupation in that region, and it is carried on at the cost of not a few human lives; they have a very hard struggle for existence and are often on the verge of starvation. The habitations are exposed to the rigours of the weather, which are very severe, for the coast is blocked with drift ice during more than half the year, and its effect is felt for a much longer period.In consequence of the fog we did not reachReykjarfjord until the afternoon was well advanced; but at its entrance we experienced a delightful change, for we suddenly emerged from the sea fog into bright sunshine. We anchored opposite the small settlement known as Kuvikr, in a picturesque fjord where the mountains on the south side rise to a sharp-looking ridge between Reykjarfjord and Veithileysa, a fjord lying to the south. After enjoying the sunshine on deck for an hour, Miss Hastie and I went ashore and ascended the lower part of the ridge just mentioned to a sort of secondary ridge, overlooking much of the surrounding country. We found a continuation of the sea fog lying below us over Veithileysa and the valley at its head, the peaks of the mountains on the far side of the fjord standing out clear and bright in the sunshine.A "GLORIFIED" SHADOW ON THE FOG OVER VEITHILEYSA.A few minutes later we had an unusual experience. The fog was being blown up the fjord and over the valley at its head towards us, while the sun, which was shining brightly behind us, was rather low down in the heavens. The time was just 7p.m.I moved away from Miss Hastie, who was sitting on a rock, to some higher ground about a hundred yards distant; as I reached the highest point, I was astonished to see, cast upon the fog, an elongated dark shadow of myself, with an oval halo of brilliant colours around the shadow. My head was the centre of the halo, and there around it shone a bright golden yellow light; this gradually changed in the outer rings to green, and so on through blue and indigo to violet; then the colours of the spectrum were continued outward in the reverse order, from violet to indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, while the outside ringwas a brilliant red. The effect was rather startling at first, as may be imagined from the sketch I made on the spot, and superstitious persons would have thought it to be a very strong omen of something or other—good or otherwise. I was very unfortunate in having just exposed the last film (isochromatic) in my camera, so I was unable to secure any better record than that sketched in my note-book. It is further unfortunate that, in developing the negative I took only a few seconds before the "glorified" shadow appeared,—a view looking across the fog or clouds to the mountain peaks rising above it,—I completelydestroyed the only photographic record I had of the scene; for instead of pouring pyro into the solution to hasten development, I inadvertently took up the hypo bottle and used some of its contents, with the result that the negative was absolutely destroyed before I guessed what I had done—my annoyance can be imagined, but not expressed in words! The appearance in the sketch was that produced while I was drawing with arms bent and book held before me. When I held my arms in different positions, the shadow of course varied, but without affecting the form or position of the oval-shaped halo. When I had finished the sketch, I saw Miss Hastie coming towards me, and beckoned to her to hurry, but she arrived when the fog was clearing and the halo fading away. I then learned that she had had a similar experience from the spot where I had left her seated, and that she had seen her own shadow surrounded by a halo, which accompanied her for a considerable distance as she came towards me, but faded away as the atmospheric conditions gradually changed.These halos are known asAnthelia(Greek = "opposite the sun") orGlories. The rings may be circular if the shadow is thrown in an upright position upon the fog, but when the shadow is elongated through being thrown at an angle upon it, as in my own case, they are elliptical in consequence. In all cases the observer sees the rings round the shadow of his head, and they have a common centre "in the point where a line from the sun through the eye of the observer meets the fog." I saw two brilliantsetsof coloured rings, though more are sometimes seen; but those beyond are much fainter.

THE NORTH-WEST PENINSULA

TheVestaset sail at about 1p.m., shaping a course northward in Breithifjord through a sea of small islands, which I thought to be the remains of old lava flows denuded and perhaps sunk below sea-level. I had no opportunity of examining them, but they are said to be "crater islets," most of them. The sea in Breithifjord is very shallow, and on the journey to the island of Flatey, and afterwards thence towards the open ocean, our course was anything but a straight one; so shallow was the water in one place after leaving Flatey, that the wash of our vessel raised breakers on the edge of a long line of submerged bank lying parallel to and not far from our course.

Flatey is one of the remains of a broken-up lava flow; a small island opposite the town has a peculiar circular harbour whose shape is rather suggestive of a coral atoll, but perhaps this is one of the "crater islets." I did not examine it, because we had no opportunity of going ashore: we arrived just as dinner was announced, and steamed away within ten minutes of the completion of the meal. The watersof Breithifjord were alive with thousands of puffins, which flapped along the surface of the water or dived beneath it as our vessel approached. We passed through miles of them while skirting the southern coast of the North-West Peninsula. The sea was quite calm as we steamed out of the fjord and rounded the south-western corner of the peninsula, in strong contrast to the heavy winds and stormy seas of the day before. We entered Patreksfjord when it was growing dark, and came to an anchorage just at midnight.

In the early morning I turned out to look at the scenery in Patreksfjord; it was rather forbidding. We were surrounded by high mountains which came steeply down to the water's edge, there being but little land available for cultivation or for grazing purposes in consequence. I found that there would be no time to go ashore, for we were to start in half an hour's time, and there was no boat available to take me; in any case, there was nothing much but the wild surroundings to be seen, and they could be viewed just as well from the vessel's deck.

At about breakfast-time we arrived opposite to Biludalr in Arnarfjord. We were in a decidedly picturesque spot, and no doubt we were more favourably impressed because of the clear bright sky and sunny weather. Ashore, the chief interest centred in the cod-fish curing and storing station, where many women, assisted by a few men, were employed in the various branches of the industry. It was the best-equipped station that I saw in Iceland; everything seemed to be in order, and to be carried on in a thoroughly business-like way. There was a tramline running between two long rows of well-built galvanised iron sheds that lined the track.

A BASALT MOUNTAIN CONE DUE TO EROSION.

A BASALT MOUNTAIN CONE DUE TO EROSION.

A BASALT MOUNTAIN CONE DUE TO EROSION.

It was in this fjord while on the way out that I obtained, on the north side, a photograph showing excellently the typical cone-like form to which a succession of basalt flows are reduced by erosion. There were other features of interest: on the south side of the fjord there were many fine specimens of corries, but the position of the sun prevented a successful attempt being made to photograph them, though, just when turning into Dyrafjord, I caught a good specimen in a suitable light. A little farther on, at Hraun, there was a view looking up a valley where the face of a moraine is kept straight by the wash of the sea at its base. We proceeded up Dyrafjord as far as Thingeyri, wherewe anchored. Distant about three miles, at Framnes, there was a whale-fishing station, where whales, brought in by the whalers, were being reduced to the commercial forms of oil, bone, and manure. We—a party of four—obtained a boat and sailed across to the station. We were courteously received by the foreman, who kindly showed us over the factory and explained matters as we proceeded; he was a Norwegian who had been whale-fishing for seventeen years before he was appointed foreman of these works. The first thing that struck us—so severely, indeed, that we were nearly bowled over—was a very choice assortment of "smells" of the most objectionable kind: they had a distinct flavour of ancient whale, and were all more or less (generally more, and sometimes most) disgusting. We were conducted by the foreman to a platform where the whales were cut up. A dozen or more were floating in the water beyond some wooden staging that jutted out into the fjord. They are kept there until required to be cut up and placed in the boiling-down vats; then one is hauled upon the platform and cut into big slabs. The platform was a horrible sight, covered as it was with slimy offal and refuse; this stuff, being valueless, is disposed of by being shot into the fjord, there to pollute its water. Below the platform a similar state of things existed, and the stench that arose from the decomposing matter was too disgusting for words to describe.

The slabs of blubber are thrown into a rotary machine, where a number of knives reduce them to pieces of much smaller size; thence the blubber is taken into the boiling-down room and boiled for tenhours in great cylindrical tanks by having steam passed through. At the expiration of that time the oil has been set free and is floating on the top, whence it is drawn off into casks; it is then shipped to Glasgow to be refined. The whale-bone, which is taken from the upper jaw of the head, is cut away and piled in heaps in a yard near the cutting-up platform. The bones are sent to another room, and are there boiled; they are then dried and ground to a fine powder; this bone dust is exported in sacks for manure. The refuse of the blubber, after the extraction of the oil, is dried in special revolving machines, which reduce it to the consistency of coarse meal; this also is used as manure, and commercially is called guano. The whale-bone is taken from the heaps to the shed; it is first pulled apart and then washed in vats containing soda and water; it is afterwards dried, when it is ready for exportation. In the blacksmith's shop we were shown the harpoons used on the whaling-vessels in securing the whales. They are shot from a short cannon into the whale; the head is hollow, and is filled with gunpowder; when the whale dashes off, the tension on the line attached to the harpoon causes the arrowheaded blades to expand and the charge of gunpowder to explode; the shell bursts and usually kills the whale. A vessel carries two harpoons, to each of which three hundred fathoms of rope is attached; the second harpoon is discharged if the first does not kill the whale. I took a photograph at Thorshavn in the Faroes showing a modern whaling-vessel. The bird's-nest where the look-out man is posted is on the foremast, and the harpoon gun is in the bows of thevessel. We returned to theVestawith the distinct impression that we were taking along with us on boots and clothes some remnants of smelly whale, for the odour seemed to stick to us and accompany us wherever we went; it was days before all suspicion of whale wore away.

The next port of call, in Onundarfjord, was not very interesting as regards scenery. The chief industry is carried on at a large whale-fishing and boiling-down station at Flateyri, where we anchored opposite the town. The presence of the station was made evident to me as I lay in my bunk in the small hours of the morning, by the fine full-flavoured aroma that came wafting into the cabin through the open port-hole. We made but a short stay at this port, for we departed before breakfast, and were thus enabled to enjoy that meal free from the disturbing influences of whale.

We entered Skutilsfjord, a branch of Isafjord, at about mid-day, and anchored opposite the town of the same name, Isafjord. Miss Hastie and I went ashore soon afterwards and proceeded up the valley towards Flateyri, intending to walk to the ridge overlooking Onundarfjord; but the Fates, in the form of bad weather, were against us, for it rained so heavily that we abandoned our original intention after we had ascended to a considerable altitude and had become thoroughly wetted. We stood for awhile with our backs against the leeward side of a cairn on the mountain-side, trying to imagine that we had effectual shelter; but as the cairn was of rather less height than we ourselves, and as we could feel the raindrops trickling down the backs of our necks, thereality was rather at variance with our attempts at imagination. Shelter or no shelter, we stuck to our posts while devouring biscuits and cheese, and sandwiches made of Danish sausage and such like greasy delicacies, and did not abandon our post, or the intention of going to the summit of the divide, until we had finished lunch and had become uncomfortably soaked. Then we retraced our steps down the valley, by the side of a small stream that descended in a series of rapids and waterfalls. On the way we met some men road-making, and found them using a cart for conveying material for the purpose from a quarry on the road-side—the first cart that I had seen in use in Iceland. Almost opposite to our anchorage there was a good example of a small corrie high up above the water of the fjord, but the photograph proved a failure. Isafjord is reputed to be the third town in Iceland in point of population; its importance is due to the cod and herring fisheries, and to the establishments where curing is carried on. A small cod-liver oil factory emitted an odour that caused us to avoid its immediate vicinity. With regard to this oil, it has been said that some of the so-called cod-liver oil is not derived from the cod at all, but is really produced from the liver of the Greenland Shark, known locally ashakarë(Danish namehaukal). I was assured, however, by one Danish merchant that this is not the case. Modern inventions were brought to mind on seeing telephone posts and the wire that connects Isafjord with Eyri. I ought to mention that one modern invention, the cream separator, is in common use on the best farms throughout Iceland. I was often awakened in the morning by hearing the whirringof the rapidly rotating cylinder of the machine. A whale-fishing establishment was said to be somewhere in the main branch of Isafjord away round the point, but we could not see it when coming in, and we were quite content not to smell it. It was doubtless several miles distant, though that avails but little when the wind blows from the direction of decaying or boiling whales.

We left Isafjord in the early morning, and between 7 and 8a.m.rounded the northernmost point of the North-West Peninsula, known as The Horn, or North Cape. It is said to be a bold, striking headland; but as the upper portion was enveloped in fog, we could not see it properly. Fog soon afterwards descended over the sea, and the vessel slowed down to half speed; while the steam-whistle screeched out at short intervals its warning to other vessels. The result was, that we saw nothing whatever of the coast along which we were passing. It was a great pity, for that part of the peninsula, which faces north-east and is known as the Hornstrandr, is the wildest, most inhospitable, and one of the least productive regions of Iceland. There the inhabitants eke out a precarious livelihood chiefly by wild-fowling—a most dangerous occupation in that region, and it is carried on at the cost of not a few human lives; they have a very hard struggle for existence and are often on the verge of starvation. The habitations are exposed to the rigours of the weather, which are very severe, for the coast is blocked with drift ice during more than half the year, and its effect is felt for a much longer period.

In consequence of the fog we did not reachReykjarfjord until the afternoon was well advanced; but at its entrance we experienced a delightful change, for we suddenly emerged from the sea fog into bright sunshine. We anchored opposite the small settlement known as Kuvikr, in a picturesque fjord where the mountains on the south side rise to a sharp-looking ridge between Reykjarfjord and Veithileysa, a fjord lying to the south. After enjoying the sunshine on deck for an hour, Miss Hastie and I went ashore and ascended the lower part of the ridge just mentioned to a sort of secondary ridge, overlooking much of the surrounding country. We found a continuation of the sea fog lying below us over Veithileysa and the valley at its head, the peaks of the mountains on the far side of the fjord standing out clear and bright in the sunshine.

A "GLORIFIED" SHADOW ON THE FOG OVER VEITHILEYSA.

A "GLORIFIED" SHADOW ON THE FOG OVER VEITHILEYSA.

A "GLORIFIED" SHADOW ON THE FOG OVER VEITHILEYSA.

A few minutes later we had an unusual experience. The fog was being blown up the fjord and over the valley at its head towards us, while the sun, which was shining brightly behind us, was rather low down in the heavens. The time was just 7p.m.I moved away from Miss Hastie, who was sitting on a rock, to some higher ground about a hundred yards distant; as I reached the highest point, I was astonished to see, cast upon the fog, an elongated dark shadow of myself, with an oval halo of brilliant colours around the shadow. My head was the centre of the halo, and there around it shone a bright golden yellow light; this gradually changed in the outer rings to green, and so on through blue and indigo to violet; then the colours of the spectrum were continued outward in the reverse order, from violet to indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, while the outside ringwas a brilliant red. The effect was rather startling at first, as may be imagined from the sketch I made on the spot, and superstitious persons would have thought it to be a very strong omen of something or other—good or otherwise. I was very unfortunate in having just exposed the last film (isochromatic) in my camera, so I was unable to secure any better record than that sketched in my note-book. It is further unfortunate that, in developing the negative I took only a few seconds before the "glorified" shadow appeared,—a view looking across the fog or clouds to the mountain peaks rising above it,—I completelydestroyed the only photographic record I had of the scene; for instead of pouring pyro into the solution to hasten development, I inadvertently took up the hypo bottle and used some of its contents, with the result that the negative was absolutely destroyed before I guessed what I had done—my annoyance can be imagined, but not expressed in words! The appearance in the sketch was that produced while I was drawing with arms bent and book held before me. When I held my arms in different positions, the shadow of course varied, but without affecting the form or position of the oval-shaped halo. When I had finished the sketch, I saw Miss Hastie coming towards me, and beckoned to her to hurry, but she arrived when the fog was clearing and the halo fading away. I then learned that she had had a similar experience from the spot where I had left her seated, and that she had seen her own shadow surrounded by a halo, which accompanied her for a considerable distance as she came towards me, but faded away as the atmospheric conditions gradually changed.

These halos are known asAnthelia(Greek = "opposite the sun") orGlories. The rings may be circular if the shadow is thrown in an upright position upon the fog, but when the shadow is elongated through being thrown at an angle upon it, as in my own case, they are elliptical in consequence. In all cases the observer sees the rings round the shadow of his head, and they have a common centre "in the point where a line from the sun through the eye of the observer meets the fog." I saw two brilliantsetsof coloured rings, though more are sometimes seen; but those beyond are much fainter.

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