questions were being discussed with interest,
my uncle received a rude shock--one that he felt very much. Hans,
despite everything he could say to the contrary, quitted Hamburg; the
man to whom we owed so much would not allow us to pay our deep debt of
gratitude. He was taken with nostalgia; a love for his Icelandic home.

"Farval," said he, one day, and with this one short word of adieu, he
started for Reykjavik, which he soon reached in safety.

We were deeply attached to our brave eider-duck hunter. His absence will
never cause him to be forgotten by those whose lives he saved, and I
hope, at some not distant day, to see him again.

To conclude, I may say that our journey into the interior of the earth
created an enormous sensation throughout the civilized world. It was
translated and printed in many languages. All the leading journals
published extracts from it, which were commentated, discussed, attacked,
and supported with equal animation by those who believed in its
episodes, and by those who were utterly incredulous.

Wonderful! My uncle enjoyed during his lifetime all the glory he
deserved; and he was even offered a large sum of money, by Mr. Barnum,
to exhibit himself in the United States; while I am credibly informed by
a traveler that he is to be seen in waxwork at Madame Tussaud's!

But one care preyed upon his mind, a care which rendered him very
unhappy. One fact remained inexplicable--that of the compass. For a
learned man to be baffled by such an inexplicable phenomenon was very
aggravating. But Heaven was merciful, and in the end my uncle was happy.

One day, while he put some minerals belonging to his collection in
order, I fell upon the famous compass and examined it keenly.

For six months it had lain unnoticed and untouched.

I looked at it with curiosity, which soon became surprise. I gave a loud
cry. The Professor, who was at hand, soon joined me.

"What is the matter?" he cried.

"The compass!"

"What then?"

"Why its needle points to the south and not to the north."

"My dear boy, you must be dreaming."

"I am not dreaming. See--the poles are changed."

"Changed!"

My uncle put on his spectacles, examined the instrument, and leaped with
joy, shaking the whole house.

A clear light fell upon our minds.

"Here it is!" he cried, as soon as he had recovered the use of his
speech, "after we had once passed Cape Saknussemm, the needle of this
compass pointed to the southward ins