As regards the hospitality of the Icelanders, {45} I do not think one can
give them so very much credit for it. It is true that priests and
peasants gladly receive any European traveller, and treat him to every
thing in their power; but they know well that the traveller who comes to
their island is neither an adventurer nor a beggar, and will therefore
pay them well. I did not meet one peasant or priest who did not accept
the proffered gift without hesitation. But I must say of the priests
that they were every where obliging and ready to serve me, and satisfied
with the smallest gift; and their charges, when I required horses for my
excursions, were always moderate. I only found the peasant less
interested in districts where a traveller scarcely ever appeared; but in
such places as were more visited, their charges were often exorbitant.
For example, I had to pay 20 to 30 kr. (8d. to 1s.) for being ferried
over a river; and then my guide and I only were rowed in the boat, and
the horses had to swim. The guide who accompanied me on the Hecla also
overcharged me; but he knew that I was forced to take him, as there is no
choice of guides, and one does not give up the ascent for the sake of a
little money.

This conduct shows that the character of the Icelanders does not belong
to the best; and that they take advantage of travellers with as much
shrewdness as the landlords and guides on the continent.

A besetting sin of the Icelanders is their drunkenness. Their poverty
would probably not be so great if they were less devoted to brandy, and
worked more industriously. It is dreadful to see what deep root this
vice has taken. Not only on Sundays, but also on week-days, I met
peasants who were so intoxicated that I was surprised how they could keep
in their saddle. I am, however, happy to say that I never saw a woman in
this degrading condition.

Another of their passions is snuff. They chew and snuff tobacco with the
same infatuation as it is smoked in other countries. But their mode of
taking it is very peculiar. Most of the peasants, and even many of the
priests, have no proper snuff-box, but only a box turned of bone, shaped
like a powder-flask. When they take snuff, they throw back their head,
insert the point of the flask in their nose, and shake a dose of tobacco
into it. They then, with the greatest amiability, offer it to their
neighbour, he to his, and so it goes round till it reaches the owner
again