Although Akreyri is not so extensive a settlement as Reykjavík, it possesses a much better harbour, being shut in upon the east by the Vaðlaheiði, and upon the west by the hills of Súlur and the outlying mountains of the Vindheima Jökull, which rise in some places to the height of 3000 feet. The town is situated at the south end of the Eyjafjörð (island firth), taking its name from the little island of Hrísey which lies in its mouth. The trade of this small place does not equal that of its sister settlement, owing, perhaps, to the numerous stores situated in various fjords in the north of Iceland, whereas Reykjavík and Eyrarbakki command the trade of the greater part of the south, in consequence of the iron-bound nature of its coast. Arkeyri is composed of two streets of wooden frame-houses, one of which runs so close to the sea shore as to be occasionally flooded, and it has a renown of its own, from the largest trees in the whole island growing there. These however, are merely two or three mountain-ash trees, about 25 to 30 feet in height, flourishing in front of a house facing the fjord, belonging to one of the principal store keepers!

The luxuriance of their growth is the more remarkable, as all the attempts which have hitherto been made to grow trees in Reykjavík have failed, although its mean temperature is much higher than that of Akreyri. The explanation of this probably is that Akreyri is one of the most sheltered spots in the island, while Reykjavík is exposed to the full fury of the east and west winds.

A short distance to the north of the town we found a cluster of black sheds, the filthy smell from which informed us at once of the odoriferous business carried on there, which was at full swing. I had often smelt from afar this same disgusting effluvium, and found it to arise from the profitable but revolting work of extracting oil from sharks’ livers. Accompanied by Paul, I determined to inspect this manufacture, so, passing through an avenue of vats full of sharks’ putrid livers, reeking and sweltering in the sun, we thrust our pocket-handkerchiefs into our mouths and plunged into the boiling-house. Here about half-a-dozen cauldrons of sharks’ livers were simmering, and slowly “frying out” the filthy but valuable shark-oil, exhaling the foulest stench imaginable. Three grimy oleaginous men and a boy, who seemed to thrive amid their abominable surroundings, were engaged in stoking the fires, stirring up the stewing livers and baling out the oil, as it accumulated, into a long trough, which discharged itself into a large iron tank outside, whence it was drawn off again into barrels ready for shipment to the various parts of the world where there is a demand for such a very unpleasant lubricator. The men seemed quite surprised that we found anything disagreeable in the smell of the oil, and seemed quite to enjoy giving the cauldrons an extra stir on our account, which was a pleasure we could have dispensed with.

In the evening we paid a visit to the apothecary, whose house seemed to be the rendezvous of all the captains whose ships were lying in the harbour, and there we arranged to depart the next day.

Here I may as well observe there are two ways from the north to the south of Iceland, the shortest being, however, the most difficult road, which lies across the Sprengisandr, and the longest, but easiest, across the Stórisandr. Mr. Locke, with Herra Guðmundson and his sister, had resolved to go by the Stórisandr to Reykjavík, and I wished to go by the Sprengisandr to the east, so that I might visit the Skaptar Jökull. Although I intended to have left early, it was night before we got away from Akreyri, for leave-taking always occupies an indefinite time in inverse proportion to the size of the place. Re-crossing Vaðlaheiði, we reached Ljósavatn (where I had left my baggage and baggage-horses) with the daylight, from whence we proceeded along the Skjálfandifljót to Stóruvellir. The river Skjálfandifljót runs down a broad fertile valley shut in by hills of basalt, which rise in some places as much as 1300 feet above the level of the river. From thence a broad stretch of grass-land, extending some 25 miles long, brought us to Stóruvellir, a flourishing farm surrounded by grass-lands. The people, we found, were all busy hay-making; so I ascended the hills behind the farm to look at the surrounding country, but before I could reach the summit it had clouded over, and I could see but a very short distance. Early next morning a man brought word that a fresh eruption had broken out in the Mývatns Örœfí. This was news indeed, and as it was Sunday, when some of the more distant population would be assembled at the neighbouring church, I despatched Paul to ascertain from them the accuracy of the news. In the meanwhile, however, accompanied by the farmer’s son, I ascended the hills to reconnoitre, and when about half-way up I espied a tall dense column of white smoke in the east, which announced the correctness of the intelligence we had received. On arriving at the summit I looked again, and then perceived six smaller columns in a line with the larger one, rising to about half its height. These columns of smoke had evidently originated in the Mývatns Örœfí, and rose in perpendicular columns, which spread out at the apex like phantoms of giant palm trees in the calm atmosphere of that early autumn Sabbath morning! The position I occupied commanded a magnificent view of the Dyngjufjöll mountains and the Kverkfjöll, both of which volcanoes lie south of the Mývatns Örœfí; neither of these, however, seemed to be particularly disturbed, but the mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke which had been there all the summer still hovered over the Dyngjufjöll. There appeared, however, no increase in the three thin columns of vapour I had before observed rising from the Kverkfjöll. Looking in another direction I found the country to the east obscured by what seemed to be a fog, which was, probably, vapour and ashes from the fresh eruption drifting slowly towards the Vatna Jökull. Presently the large volume of smoke from the Mývatns Orœfí disappeared, leaving in its place a cloud of thin black vapour, but before many seconds had elapsed it again sprang up in three distinct bursts to more than its former height. Hastily descending, I ordered the horses to be saddled, and at once we rode away at full gallop towards the seat of the new eruption.

By evening we reached the farm of Grœnavatn, where I had the pleasure of again seeing Thorlákur and his brother-in-law, and I forthwith made preparations for visiting the point of volcanic activity the following morning, but my plans were frustrated by a violent storm of rain, wind, and snow, which made it a matter of impossibility to cross the hills; so, chafing at the delay, I was compelled to postpone my expedition. During the previous night a man had arrived from Grímstaðir, upon the eastern side of the Mývatns Örœfí, and reported that between ten and eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, August 15th, a smart shock of earthquake was felt at that place, travelling from north-east to south-west, while almost simultaneously columns of smoke were seen upon the plain of Mývatns Örœfí, and forthwith an eruption commenced from the same place as in the previous spring. Upon the 17th the storm had sufficiently abated, so, accompanied by Jón, who had been my guide to Fremri-Námur, I set out for the eruption. Upon entering a valley in the mountains of Mývatn, by which we intended to gain access to the Mývatns Örœfí, a few columns of smoke in the distance warned us that the eruption lay before us, and as we emerged from the glen, a line of some twenty columns of smoke burst upon our view, while at the north end lay two clusters of black mounds in close proximity. From the most southerly of these sprung up two columns of dense black smoke, which struggling to ascend, were beaten back to earth again by the wind in a foul heavy mist that spread itself out for miles over the lava streams, both old and new, which lay to eastward, clinging to the higher crags in dark, ominous-looking masses, and obscuring large patches of the more level plain. From its neighbour to the north a high column of stones, ashes, and dust proclaimed the principal volcanic vent, and as we gazed upon the scene, suddenly, with a roar, every particle seemed on fire, while explosion after explosion hurled the larger fragments to a height beyond our view in the dense canopy of vapour which hung over us, making the ground upon which we stood and the rocks around us tremble. While the lava sloped over the most northerly side, the large column of fire sank, and only stones and cinders were ejected. This column of débris I noticed continually varied both in size and volume, sometimes clustering like a large swarm of bees in the smoke, apparently scarcely a hundred feet above the crater, while at other times it shot up into a tall column with explosive violence, the masses of scoriæ shrieking in their passage through the air. This was followed by a calm, and then again by a rending sound, as a new crater opened on the north side of the mound, which ejected a stream of white hot lava that tumbled in a cascade of fiery froth upon the old lava stream of the previous spring. At this point a dense smoke and the sound of splitting rocks marked its progress till it oozed in bright red viscous masses through the interstices of the older lava, forming pools beyond the limit of the elder stream, which glowed for a moment only and then turned black. As we looked on these wonderful changes of the face of nature, a dim twilight supervened, although only six P.M., so we stopped upon a patch of wild oats which grew profusely upon many parts of these sands, and here we left our horses to feed while we took our evening meal upon a sand-bank commanding a full view of the eruption, which was rather more than a mile away. The scene was grand, but our horses did not appear to be particularly frightened at the eruption, for after standing some time looking at it, they quietly went on grazing.

On approaching the volcano as closely as the heated lava would allow, I found it to consist of a cluster of black mounds, describing together an irregular cone, from the centre of which, and probably towards the termination of the spring-eruption, a large crater had been formed, apparently little more than half-a-mile in circumference; its northern wall had now evidently been broken down, while from the centre rose the conical walls of the crater then erupting. There was a breach also in the north side, from which the lava poured at intervals, while numerous cracks in the walls of the cone caused the glow from the intense burning within to shine through with such brilliancy as to give the summit the appearance of being wrapped in flames. As I intently examined this, two smaller craters became suddenly visible, one in the north base of the erupting mound and the other some little distance further north, in the lava itself. Both these were burning with a brilliant white light, and emitted a rending, crushing sound, although erupting with little violence. From these two craters the principal lava streams were advancing with considerable rapidity, encircling from time to time patches of ancient lava and sand which formed the plain, and finally overwhelming them in its fiery embrace. As night closed in, the heated lava and the noxious gases arising from it prevented me from getting nearer than within a few hundred yards of the volcano, so I lit my pipe at the nearest lava coulée and returned to camp. There again, while sitting by my tent, upon a high bank of volcanic sand, I gazed for a long time upon the mighty fountains of volcanic fire, which in one continuous stream assailed the sky with a glorious display of natural pyrotechnics. All through the dark hours of the night the volcano burned and roared, followed by explosion after explosion, which shook the desolate waste around to its very foundation. When I rose at midnight to take another look at this grand and terrible spectacle, it was still energetically erupting with a grandeur the equal of which I may never have another opportunity of witnessing; for the grim sands and lava fields of the Mývatns Örœfí were bathed in an unwonted light which reddened the lurid sky and deepened the shadows amongst the weird crags of lava, rendering them still more unearthly in that fire-blasted wilderness in the midst of which we were encamped. The wind still blew freely from the north-west, from which quarter, fortunately, it had been blowing all the evening, so that I was enabled to reach a neck of land almost encircled with lava within about two hundred yards of the crater which was erupting. From this coign d’avantage I was able to examine minutely the progress of the eruption; but the heat was very great even at this distance, while my field glass shewed me that the fiery column seemed to be made up of myriads of molten atoms. The whole scene was, in fact, utterly indescribable, yet I could not but reflect how meagre and insignificant was even that glorious display in comparison with those mighty fires which have been occasionally let loose from such mountains as the Vatna and Skaptar Jökulls, and how terrible! how utterly unapproachable must have been their outburst! Yes, that is the unsatisfactory part about them; when they are in full working order there is no getting near them, and at other times one can only climb, shudder and freeze over their temporary tombs.

However, nothing daunted, at 6 A.M. I started to examine the line of smoking mounds which marked the course of the great fissure or gjá (chasm). As mentioned before, this fissure was formed in the early spring, and re-opened on the 15th August, 1875, to give vent to the volcanic fires which have rifted and contorted the surrounding plain. The erupting mound had grown about 50 or 60 feet in the night, but the eruption itself, as I saw it, was evidently upon the wane. The next cluster of mounds towards the south contained three craters, but the largest was covered with whitish yellow sublimations, probably sulphur and sal-ammoniac. This was tranquilly steaming and had evidently not been disturbed during the recent outburst; in fact, all along the fissure there occurred mounds at intervals, and some were smoking violently, while many other smaller lateral cracks and fissures were likewise smoking, but not to the same extent. These fissures, I noticed, were entirely environed with hot lava, apparently of recent production, and a depression in some places of 50 feet in depth had sunk around them, varying from two to about four miles in breadth, while numerous deep chasms crevassed the adjacent plain. They were mostly parallel to the principal line of disturbance, and as they approached the depression they increased in size and depth, while those in close proximity to it ran into one another where the ground was upheaved by a general chaotic dislocation. The whole line of smoking fissures appeared to me to have erupted lava both during the spring and at the eruption in August; the fissures terminated in a series of cracks, the edges of which were in many places covered with sublimations of sulphur and sal-ammoniac.

Aided by a strong north-westerly wind, which had fortunately been blowing throughout my visit to this remarkable spot, and a strong pair of leather boots, I succeeded at one point in traversing the still hot lava, till I reached the principal fissure about half-a-mile from its southern termination. In many places I found it was four or five feet wide, in some places choked with solid lava; and in others gaping widely open, but at some points it was spanned with cinders and lava, encrusted with various sublimations, which showed that there had been no recent outburst in that particular spot. In some places, however, similar accumulations had been scattered around by the recent disturbances, in fragments so variously encrusted that at first sight I was led to suppose the fissure had cast out great quantities of party-coloured cinders; at all events, at all points where the eruption had been particularly violent circles of cinders and clinkers had formed varying from one or two to many feet in height, bridging over the fissure and forming conical mounds wherever the outburst had continued for any lengthened period. This struck me as being rather remarkable, as I should almost have expected to find the clinkers, etc., piled up in banks upon each side of the fissure, instead of assuming, as they did, such regular shapes, often at right-angles with the fissures producing them; but where the fissure was not blocked up it steamed violently, emitting nauseous smells and making hoarse choking sounds. Its depth I could not ascertain, as the emanations which arose from the lava I was standing upon compelled me to beat a hasty retreat, and indeed they made me feel dizzy for the remainder of the day. This gjá is situated in the Mývatns Örœfí, in a line parallel with Lake Mývatn, at the height of a little less than 1000 feet above sea level; its direction is N.N.E. to S.S.W. The length of the fissure is about twelve English miles, and from it has issued a lava stream of about fourteen English miles in length and perhaps three-and-a-half broad upon an average, though it is much narrower at some points than at others, especially towards its southern extremity. This recent lava, both of the spring and autumn, had flowed over the ancient lava and sand, rendering so large a portion of the Mývatns Örœfí a useless desert; while it had particularly overflowed an ancient lava stream, produced by a vent in the west portion of the Mývatns Örœfí, called Svínagjá. The new lava appeared to differ from the old only in this respect, viz., that the ancient lava contained olivine, which the closest microscopic examination failed to discover in the more recent production. I also found that no pumice had been ejected from this fissure up to last August; lava, stones, cinders and ashes only having been thrown up. This spot may be regarded as the northern centre of recent volcanic activity, and the Öskjugjá as the southern, both occurring in the same rectilinear bearing, N.N.E. and S.S.W., and so coinciding with the great fissure which it has been presumed bisects the island from N.E. to S.W.

Carefully taking the bearings of the neighbouring mountains from the south end of the fissure, I made two or three dashes over the hot lava to look into the grim jaws of a chasm which had been erupting with especial violence, where the various heights of the conical mounds gauged the violence and the extent of the eruption; but a very short distance farther north the heated lava became too broad to permit of such excursions with any degree of safety, so I ascended some elevated ground to the west, in order to obtain a bird’s-eye view of the seat of eruption.

This fissure, as I have before said, extends through a recently-formed depression, in the direction N.N.E. to S.S.W., extending from about one mile north of the road from Grímstaðir to Reikjahlíð to a point bearing Jörundr 19° N., Búrfell 349° N.W. It had erupted in seven places with great violence, and had formed there conical hills, containing several craters. After inspecting these, I turned my back upon the line of steaming vents, having seen all that could be seen, and I was well contented with my little expedition. After a while we reached our horses by a short cut over the ancient lava, which had flowed partly from the Svínagjá and partly from the Mývatn hills, then returning to Grœnavatn, and proceeded thence to Stóruvellir the next day.

We left Stóruvellir amid a heavy gale and were accompanied by the farmer as far as Halldórstaðir where the priest, who spoke a little English, would not hear of our leaving without partaking of coffee, chocolate, or schnapps. We took leave here of the bóndi of Stóruvellir, who had treated us hospitably and had charged very moderately.

Leaving here we next made our way to Mýri, where lived an old man whose father was the first to cross the Sprengisandr, in 1810, as the south of Iceland previously had been always reached by crossing the Stórisandr. This old man was pleased to see me, and gladly gave me an account of the road, written by his father, to guide future travellers, and my informant I found was eighty-three years of age. Before leaving my new acquaintance I purchased a spoon of him said to be fifty years old. This was quite an ingenious novelty, for when unscrewed it divided into fifteen different pieces; I also bought a wooden roller which used to serve the purpose of a mangle a few centuries back, and a rude representation of the crucifixion in needlework upon green wadmal (Icelandic homespun cloth), which the old man told me had been worked by the nuns of an Icelandic convent long, long ago,—he could not say how long, but he knew that the banner was “eld gamalt” (very old). He also informed me that when he first went to Reykjavík for stock-fish no ships came to the north of Iceland, and that in Reykjavík coffee and sugar cost five marks (about 1s. 10½d.) per pound, while they could only obtain fifteen skillings (3½d.) per pound for their wool. The present price of these commodities, I may remark, is—coffee, three marks (1s. 1½d.), sugar, thirty-two to thirty-four skillings (6d. to 8d.) per pound—while they are now able to sell their wool at 1s. 1½d. per pound.

I sent Paul and Olgi on with the baggage while I, accompanied by the old man’s son, went a little out of the way to visit the waterfall of Alderjufoss, where the river Skjálfandifljót pours into a rift in an ancient lava stream, about forty-five feet deep. This sight is well worth going out of the way to see, as it is a much finer fall than the Godafoss.

The most remarkable feature about these falls, however, is the wall of rock over which they descend, the bottom of the wall being composed of perpendicular basaltic columns, overlaid by a compact basaltic lava of a very crystalline nature, while the columns themselves are of a compact stony basaltic lava, but in neither of the specimens I broke off could I find a single crystal. I am, however, inclined to think that both lavas are of identical composition, and of contemporaneous production.

Having satisfied my curiosity here I left the Alderjufoss behind, and rode quickly after Paul and Olgi, overtaking them not far from the lake of Ísholtsvatn, from whence a short ride brought us to the farm of Ísholt, which was inhabited by a bachelor brother and his three sisters. Here we enjoyed a good supper of char and potatoes (for the latter were now of an edible size), and a good night’s rest, preparatory to our journey across the Sprengisandr.

Although there are no fish in the Skjálfandifljót, there are plenty in Ísholtsvatn and the Fiskiá, which flows out of it into the Skjálfandifljót. I suppose this is on account of the turbid nature of the water in the latter, which is purely a glacial stream.

After resting a while here I left Ísholt in company with the farmer, and commenced our journey southwards, there being at the time a severe storm of wind from the N.W., bearing with it clouds of sand. On our way we paid a visit to the brother of the old man of Mýri, from whom I obtained some more curiosities in the shape of ancient spoons, one of which, like the other, could be separated into fifteen different pieces, and an old Prayer-book, printed at Hólar in 1742. This man lived at the farm of Mjófidalr (narrow valley) and had the reputation of being a good herb doctor. I found him pleased to see us, and before we left he treated us to a compound of schnapps and angelica root which was very refreshing. A fierce gale was blowing at the time from the S.W., and the sand was intolerable, even penetrating through the gauze of our snow spectacles, and almost blinding us; while at times the sand storm was so heavy that we were unable to see one another even when within touching distance. Our poor horses felt it very much, the eyes of some being completely closed up, so that when we reached to the grass hills to the north of Kiðagil, we were compelled to halt and bathe their eyes with water. As the road here lay over a series of stony hills, grown over in many places with moss and scanty grass, the dust became less troublesome, and therefore we were glad to alight in the evening at the song-famed Kiðagil (goats’ valley). The last grass to be found upon the north side of the Sprengisandr is in this valley, and it takes several hours’ hard riding before the next grass is reached.

This valley is fertilized by the river Kiðagilsá which runs through it, and empties itself into the Skjálfandifljót at this spot. The weather cleared beautifully in the evening, so I climbed to the summit of Kiðagilshnukur, which commands an extensive view towards the snowy heights of Arnarfells, the Tungufells, and the white slopes of the Vatna Jökull, with their black cones and buttresses protruding through the snow. To the N.E. stretched the country to the north of the Vatna Jökull, with the well-remembered mountains which I had traversed with so much interest, and the desert plains over which I had trudged for many a weary hour, sore-footed and tired. The wind had sunk to rest with the sun, and the serrated outline of the Dyngjufjöll grew darker and darker, beneath the heavy canopy of smoke which still hovered over them, while the neighbouring mountains grew more indistinct and shadowy as the light faded from the west.

My tent had been pitched in the valley below, the autumn nights had now commenced, and the fitful gleam of the aurora told me my summer work was almost ended. On looking around upon those old familiar scenes—it might be for the last time—my emotion was so great that my tongue, in its endeavours to give audible expression to the sentiments that filled my breast, exclaimed with all the enthusiasm my nature was capable of, “Farewell, farewell, dear old Northernland! I came to your rugged and barren shores an enthusiastic traveller, anxious and resolved to seek out the wonderful things hidden in your frozen casket; and having enjoyed your simple and honest hospitalities and gratified my ambitious curiosity, I must now bid you adieu, bearing with me an affectionate remembrance of your craters and geysers, your mountains of eternal snow, and, above all, of the kind and faithful services rendered me by your hardy and generous sons and daughters.”

Having relieved my emotion by this crude expression of my feelings, I took one more fond look and then turned in to rest for the night, feeling amid my regret at leaving old Iceland, something akin to an inward pride, to think that although so humble a member of the Alpine Club, I had been enabled to accomplish so much, and that, too, notwithstanding the doubts of my friends, and the opinion of Mr. Forbes, who seems to have formed very erroneous notions as to the Vatna Jökull, or of the determination and endurance a member of the Alpine Club is capable of if once he sets his mind upon exploring a mountain.

To return to my narrative. Soon after day-break my men and I were again astir and in our saddles; but I was sorry to perceive that the weather had changed for the worst, which was a serious thing for us, seeing that we had a long, bad road before us, as well as a tiring journey to perform under various difficulties, enough to daunt the sturdiest of us. To add to our misery the clouds above were black as ravens’ wings, and a fierce wind blew in such piercing gushes that we could scarcely stand against them, as they came bursting on straight into our very teeth. As I shuddered beneath the blast, I consoled myself with the thought that such a parting with Iceland was, after all, quite characteristic; and soon one poetic notion after another took such possession of me that by the time I had got thoroughly awake I began to find myself growing quite warm with excitement, and of course less sensible to the real severities of the storm. True to his kindly nature, and well sustaining the character of his countrymen, my old friend the bóndi of Ísholt resolved to see me part of the way on my journey; and although unwilling to trouble him, I must certainly acknowledge the extreme pleasure this trifling act of courtesy and kindness afforded me. And when at last the hour arrived for us to separate, we shook each other heartily by the hand, and cheered ourselves in a parting cup which drained the last of my schnapps. “God speed” having been expressed on both sides, I resolutely turned my back upon the fascination of the distant mountains, and faced the driving storm of wind and sand to thread my way southward.

Our route at first lay over a series of low terraced hills, and presently a wet tedious ride brought us to a cluster of small stone cairns, round which were collected a number of horses’ bones, not a very cheering sight to our own animals, and they seemed rather shy of the ghastly remains of their ill-fated brethren.

While looking on this sad sight, Paul told me it was often the custom to write a verse, and leave it in a bone upon such a mound as this for the next traveller, and, accordingly, I wished to do so too, but could not find one suitable, and so we felt ourselves relieved from the responsibility of keeping up the “old custom.” It would have been all the same, however, if we had desired to do so, for the cheerless prospect of fog and rain, with the apparently boundless Sprengisandr around us, varied only by an occasional glimpse of some snowy Jökull, would have been sufficient to freeze the most gushing of poetical ideas.

Wishing to quit this spot without delay, we determined upon taking the route known as the Arnarfells-vegr upon the west bank of the Thjórsá rather than follow the track upon the east, as by doing so we should be able to cross the numerous smaller rivers whose confluent waters form the Thjórsá, one by one, instead of having to wait perhaps a day or so, until the waters of the Thjórsá should be sufficiently low to enable us to ford them.

In the course of our journey we passed between Arnarfells Jökull and Tungufells Jökull, and thence bearing to the west, we got as close to the former as possible in order that we might cross these smaller arms at their source. Some of these arms, I imagine, must be very difficult in warm weather, for even upon this cold and stormy day they were in many places over our horses’ girths.

Arnarfell, upon the N.E., rises from a band of glaciers, from which steep slopes of snow sweep up to the black peaks of Arnarfell-hið-Mikla which must be of considerable altitude, a little more than a Danish mile away from the termination of the glacier. The nature of the ground we were traversing precluded the possibility of quick riding, hence it took us five hours more to reach Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, which was to be our destination for the night. This elevation is a cluster of eminences formed of agglomerate, which has been weathered into peaks of considerable height, and these are traversed by several dykes and intruded masses of basaltic lava. Here we found a good patch of grass and angelica, extending along the sides of Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, as well as along the banks of the river washing its eastern base.

Our arrival at this part disturbed a bevy of swans, which at this season of the year (August) lose the feathers of their wings, of course preventing their flight. Taking advantage of this, chase was immediately given, and four of their number very soon captured.

I am glad to say the next morning showed us a more cheery prospect, for a stiff breeze blew from the N.W., and although the clouds hung upon the mountains, the sun occasionally broke through, encouraging us to put some of our wet things out to dry. While this was being done I ascended the Arnarfell-hið-Mikla, and was well repaid for my trouble, for the clouds were lifting from the adjacent mountains, which gave me a peep at the Vatna Jökull, as well as the more western hills, over the broad plain lying between it and the Arnarfells Jökull. The Sprengisandr is here cut up by a network of rivers and streams, which upon our side of the Sprengisandr all flowed into the Thjórsá. We now pursued our way with a bright sun shining upon us; the ground was in most places covered with swampy moss, which was much better travelling than the stones of the preceding day. Many streams with quicksands had to be crossed, whose waters were all the deeper for the fine weather we were enjoying. Turning thence directly southwards we struck the main stream of the Thjórsá. Travellers to the south who take the eastern route generally cross this stream at this point, but they are sometimes detained for days in consequence of freshets, which may occur at any season of the year; therefore the west side of the Thjórsá, though a little longer, is found to be much the surer road. Here we saw a number of sheep grazing upon the opposite bank, belonging to farmers in the south; and as may be well imagined, we hailed their appearance as the first sign of the “Suðurland” we were approaching.

After a short enjoyable halt here, we continued our journey to a point between the rivers Kisá and Miklilœkr, where we encamped. On continuing our journey, an uninteresting ride over an undulating and gradually descending moor, which in fine weather commands a good view of Hekla, brought us to an ancient lava stream which had flowed from the Rauðu Kambar, an old volcano lying to the west of the road, and here again we found ourselves amongst lava, pumice and black sand.

I will not weary my readers any longer by continuing a description of the monotonous dreary scenery met with at this stage of my journey, and in fact as I trudged along dreamily, recalling to mind the many incidents that had crowded themselves upon me since I had been on the island, my eyes had been as it were blind to the surroundings to such an extent that more than once I was only recalled to them by the stumbling of my faithful horse, the rolling of a boulder, or an extra fierce gust of blinding wind; and then, once more reminded of the fact that I was still a traveller, I gazed around like a wanderer amongst the sepulchres of a past race, awe-struck with the lifeless condition of the place, while my mind wandered back from the silent scene to the one or two living giants (Öskjugjá, &c.) that still existed, lonely examples of the activity and power of an age so far removed from the world’s history as to be lost in antiquity, and yet still so vigorous as to fulfil the important and wonderful mission of connecting the present with the most primitive ages of the world.

Well, after trudging along several miles in this dreamy mood we at last arrived at the Skriðufell farm, but here, I regret to say, we found no welcome, for the farmer was a noted churl, and instead of offering us the same generous hospitality as all others had, he positively refused the smallest assistance, even going so far as to object to let us put our horses under the old roof of an outhouse. My companions pleaded in his behalf that he could not help it, as he had had the misfortune to be crossed in love! which I was very sorry to hear, and sincerely trust no similar calamity might happen to spoil the other inhabitants.

However, being compelled to push on again by this unpleasant contretemps, we made as much haste as we could, and were soon pleased to find ourselves in front of a poor little homestead, where we were glad to find a generous welcome, plenty of good milk and other necessaries, of which we availed ourselves, being made truly welcome. After this brief halt we again pushed on to the Hagafell along the banks of the Hagafjall, with Hekla full in sight, its summit being, as usual, enveloped in clouds. Here we obtained a good night’s rest, and wishing to obtain some specimens from the Great Geysir, I decided to reach Reykjavík viâ Geysir and Thingvellir, although it was the longest route, and accordingly in the morning we made our way towards Hruni, upon the banks of the Kálfá. I next turned a little out of my way to examine a white buttress of rock protruding from a grassy hill upon our right hand. This proved to be a ridge of intruded trachytic lava, extending a considerable distance; I mention this as it was the only instance of purely trachytic lava which I had met with, excepting in a pumiceous form. Here we were most cordially and hospitably received by the priest of Hruni, who would not allow us to depart without bringing out a bottle of his best port wine, and hearing an account of our experience. It was late in the night before we arrived at Great Geysir. One of the principal objects of my visit to this part was to seek a box of minerals I had entrusted to the care of the farmer of Haukadalr to take to Reykjavík in the previous year, but which had never come to hand, though he protested that he had delivered them according to my directions, however, I set about collecting fresh specimens, which was no very serious trouble.

Great Geysir did not favour us with an eruption, as we had wished, so we stirred up Stroker with the usual meal of turf, which caused it to spout, but scarcely to the same height as when I witnessed its performance in 1874. In the evening we left for Thingvellir, but as we did not arrive there till one A.M. we did not awake our friend the priest, who, on rising, found us lying asleep, with the tent covered over us, upon the grass just outside his door. This good gentleman upbraided us for not waking him up, brought out everything of his best, and gave us a hearty breakfast, for we were old friends. Five hours’ hard riding later on brought us to Reykjavík, where I again put up at the house of friend Oddr Gíslasson, who had two Scotch ladies staying with him. These I found to be Miss Oswald and Miss Menzies, who had been making a prolonged tour in the island—a plucky undertaking, which perhaps may encourage other ladies to seek health and amusement amongst the wild rocks of salubrious Iceland, undeterred by the fear of having no other escort than an Icelander.

Upon the arrival of the Post ship, I was amused to receive an extract from the “Evening Echo” of August giving a most deplorable account of my health and personal appearance after crossing the Vatna Jökull. Though it amused us all at Reykjavík, I felt sorry to think of the unnecessary distress and anxiety it might cause to my friends at home. If such were the motive of the writer, it may gratify him to learn that he succeeded admirably. However, any one of the Sulphur Company would at once have pronounced the statement to be false.

I rejoiced in the possession of two pairs of Alpine boots, but I preferred wearing Icelandic mocassins, they being easier to walk in. I had also two coats, but always preferred wearing a tight knitted jersey and waistcoat, which were much more convenient for movement, while I generally prefer a knitted cap instead of a hat, for a cap draws down about the ears and keep them warm, and is less at the mercy of sudden gusts of wind. It seemed curious how such a worthless little piece of pure imagination could gain access to London newspapers. The simple facts are, I sent a carefully written letter, giving a succinct account of my journey across the Vatna Jökull and my visit to Öskjugjá, the effects of which volcano were creating much discussion in England at the time. This letter Capt. Burton kindly forwarded for me to the “Times,” and it was set up in type (as the proof came into my hand on my return), but for some reason or another, best known to the editor, it subsided into the waste paper basket, while a more lengthy letter I afterwards wrote to the same journal, giving an account of the eruption in the Mývatns Örœfí, appeared in full. There are anomalies in the civilized world which confound one even more than the idiosyncracies of nature.

With the Post ship came several tourists who were bent on making a few days’ excursion in the island. We therefore made up a party, including Miss Oswald, Miss Menzies, Mr. Young, of Edinburgh, and myself, to pay a visit with Oddr Gíslasson to some solfataras belonging to him at Cape Reykjanes, and a very pleasant trip it was, though the way was extremely monotonous, being as usual over a series of lava streams flowing from the Krísuvík mountains. The part of the S.W. peninsular we were traversing was called the Vatns-leysuströnd, or waterless strand; here there is no fresh water to be obtained except upon the beach where the lava streams terminate. These can often only be reached at low water, and then, as may be imagined, the water is brackish. Two days’ journeying brought us to Kirkjuvogr, where Oddr Gíslasson’s mother and brothers-in-law lived. It is one of the best homesteads in the south, besides having about the largest piece of grass land on this peninsular. It is also a fishing station of some importance, lying as it does upon the south bank of a little boot-shaped creek named Oscar. We were very kindly received, and the next day rode on to the solfataras of Reykjanes at the extremity of the peninsular. The day was miserable, and we were unable to get a satisfactory view. These solfataras, however, are remarkable, as the acid and heated vapours have here, as in other places, formed extensive pools of calcareo-siliceous mud, hardened in some instances into almost a semi-opal, coloured and streaked with blood-red stains from the ferruginous nature of the rocks which have been decomposed, but the sublimations of sulphur were very insignificant.

The most remarkable feature of the locality occurred where the lava was not much decomposed by the erosive action of the vapours, and upon splitting such masses of the partially decomposed rock, scarlet vapours could be seen issuing from crevices beneath, coating any surface that was partially exposed to the air with a film of iron pyrites. Further up the side of the old volcano, at the base of which these curiosities are to be found, are pools and pits of blue, red, and green boiling clay. While in this locality the rain continued and the fog became more dense, and as it would have been anything but pleasant to be caught in a thick fog amongst the lava and solfataras of Reykjanes, we curtailed our visit, and returned with all speed to Kirkjuvogr.

The next day, wishing to avoid the tedious road over the lava by which we came, we rode to Njarðvík, where we hired a sailing boat, and returned by sea to Reykjavík. Here I found that Captain Cockle and Mr. Slimond had returned by the Post-ship with the welcome intelligence that the steamer “Queen” would arrive in about a week, and sail almost as soon as the old tub “Diana.” This was indeed good news to us all, for we had determined to return by a small sailing ship belonging to a horse-trader, Mr. Ascham, rather than subject ourselves to the floating purgatory of the Diana.

In due time the “Queen” arrived, and I bade Iceland and Icelandic friends farewell, feeling satisfied with my summer’s work, and consoling myself with the thought that I had accomplished the little piece of “utter folly” I had thrice undertaken. I resignedly committed myself to the evils of sea-sickness, from which I had scarcely recovered when we arrived at Edinburgh, two days before the Diana, which had sailed from Reykjavík a day before the Queen. Here I accepted the hospitality of Mr. Slimond, of Leith, and greatly enjoyed British fare and a relapse into civilization.

“Ah!” my reader may say with a smile, “after all the toil and trouble undertaken the wonders seen could not have been worth the toil and privation.” My readers, like myself, must by this time have grown somewhat weary of the eternal repetition of lava, pumice, &c., &c., and therefore we will mutually congratulate ourselves upon being able to vary the subject with reference to scenes and subjects more lively and civilized; but I must most respectfully demur to that conclusion, for if the general aspect of nature throughout Iceland be dreary and wild, there is also plenty to reward a man of scientific and athletic inclinations. Indeed the same tiresome pumice and lava and sand, when placed beneath the power of the microscope, is found to possess such wonders and exquisite beauty of form, that the beholder is struck with admiration and astonishment to find so much perfection treasured up in such rough settings, giving material for many an hour of patient study and enjoyment which has alone fully compensated for the hardships of the journey across the Vatna Jökull.