t
days, and one I had often noticed in the neighbourhood of Reikjavik.
Under a clear and cloudless sky, a light mist would appear on the brow of
a mountain,--in a moment it would increase to a large cloud, and after
remaining stationary for a time, it frequently vanished suddenly, or
soared slowly away. However often it may be repeated, this appearance
cannot fail to interest the observer.

Herr Beck, the clergyman at Thingvalla, offered me the shelter of his hut
for the night; as the building, however, did not look much more promising
than the peasants' cottages by which it was surrounded, I preferred
quartering myself in the church, permission to do so being but too easily
obtained on all occasions. This chapel is not much larger than that at
Krisuvik, and stands at some distance from the few surrounding cottages.
This was perhaps the reason why I was not incommoded by visitors. I had
already conquered any superstitious fears derived from the proximity of
my silent neighbours in the churchyard, and passed the night quietly on
one of the wooden chests of which I found several scattered about. Habit
is certainly every thing; after a few nights of gloomy solitude one
thinks no more about the matter.

June 17th.

Our journey of to-day was more formidable than that of yesterday. I was
assured that Reikholt (also called Reikiadal) was almost fifty miles
distant. Distances cannot always be accurately measured by the map;
impassable barriers, only to be avoided by circuitous routes, often
oppose the traveller's progress. This was the case with us to-day. To
judge from the map, the distance from Thingvalla to Reikholt seemed less
by a great deal than that from Reikjavik to Thingvalla, and yet we were
full fourteen hours accomplishing it--two hours longer than on our
yesterday's journey.

So long as our way lay through the valley of Thingvalla there was no lack
of variety. At one time there was an arm of the river Oxer to cross, at
another we traversed a cheerful meadow; sometimes we even passed through
little shrubberies,--that is to say, according to the Icelandic
acceptation of the term. In my country these lovely shrubberies would
have been cleared away as useless underwood. The trees trail along the
ground, seldom attaining a height of more than two feet. When one of
these puny stems reaches four feet in height, it is considered a gigantic
tree