As soon as the meal was over,the children disappeared,whilst the grown people sat around the fireplace,on which was placed turf,heather,cow dung and dried fish-bones.As soon as everybody was sufficiently warm,a general dispersion took place,all retiring to their respective couches.Our hostess offered to pull off our stockings and trousers,according to the custom of the country,but as we graciously declined to be so honored,she left us to our bed of dry fodder.
Next day,at five in the morning,we took our leave of these hospitable peasants.My uncle had great difficulty in making them accept a sufficient and proper remuneration.
Hans then gave the signal to start.
We had scarcely got a hundred yards from Gardar,when the character of the country changed.The soil began to be marshy and boggy,and less favorable to progress.To the right,the range of mountains was prolonged indefinitely like a great system of natural fortifications,of which we skirted the glacis.We met with numerous streams and rivulets which it was necessary to ford,and that without wetting our baggage.As we advanced,the deserted appearance increased,and yet now and then we could see human shadows flitting in the distance.When a sudden turn of the track brought us within easy reach of one of these specters,I felt a sudden impulse of disgust at the sight of a swollen head,with shining skin,utterly without hair,and whose repulsive and revolting wounds could be seen through his rags.The unhappy wretches never came forward to beg;on the contrary,they ran away;not so quick,however,but that Hans was able to salute them with the universal saellvertu.
"Spetelsk,"said he.
"A leper,"explained my uncle.
The very sound of such a word caused a feeling of repulsion.The horrible affliction known as leprosy,which has almost vanished before the effects of modern science,is common in Iceland.It is not contagious but hereditary,so that marriage is strictly prohibited to these unfortunate creatures.
These poor lepers did not tend to enliven our journey,the scene of which was inexpressibly sad and lonely.The very last tufts of grassy vegetation appeared to die at our feet.Not a tree was to be seen,except a few stunted willows about as big as blackberry bushes.Now and then we watched a falcon soaring in the grey and misty air,taking his flight towards warmer and sunnier regions.I could not help feeling a sense of melancholy come over me.I sighed for my own Native Land,and wished to be back with Gretchen.
We were compelled to cross several little fjords,and at last came to a real gulf.The tide was at its height,and we were able to go over at once,and reach the hamlet of Alftanes,about a mile farther.
That evening,after fording the Alfa and the Heta,two rivers rich in trout and pike,we were compelled to pass the night in a deserted house,worthy of being haunted by all the fays of Scandinavian mythology.The King of Cold had taken up his residence there,and made us feel his presence all night.
The following day was remarkable by its lack of any particular incidents.Always the same damp and swampy soil;the same dreary uniformity;the same sad and monotonous aspect of scenery.In the evening,having accomplished the half of our projected journey,we slept at the Annexia of Krosolbt.
For a whole mile we had under our feet nothing but lava.This disposition of the soil is called hraun:the crumbled lava on the surface was in some instances like ship cables stretched out horizontally,in others coiled up in heaps;an immense field of lava came from the neighboring mountains,all extinct volcanoes,but whose remains showed what once they had been.Here and there could be made out the steam from hot water springs.
There was no time,however,for us to take more than a cursory view of these phenomena.We had to go forward with what speed we might.Soon the soft and swampy soil again appeared under the feet of our horses,while at every hundred yards we came upon one or more small lakes.Our journey was now in a westerly direction;we had,in fact,swept round the great bay of Faxa,and the twin white summits of Sneffels rose to the clouds at a distance of less than five miles.
The horses now advanced rapidly.The accidents and difficulties of the soil no longer checked them.I confess that fatigue began to tell severely upon me;but my uncle was as firm and as hard as he had been on the first day.I could not help admiring both the excellent Professor and the worthy guide;for they appeared to regard this rugged expedition as a mere walk!
On Saturday,the 20th June,at six o'clock in the evening,we reached Budir,a small town picturesquely situated on the shore of the ocean;and here the guide asked for his money.My uncle settled with him immediately.It was now the family of Hans himself,that is to say,his uncles,his cousins-german,who offered us hospitality.We were exceedingly well received,and without taking too much advantage of the goodness of these worthy people,I should have liked very much to have rested with them after the fatigues of the journey.But my uncle,who did not require rest,had no idea of anything of the kind;and despite the fact that next day was Sunday,Iwas compelled once more to mount my steed.
The soil was again affected by the neighborhood of the mountains,whose granite peered out of the ground like tops of an old oak.We were skirting the enormous base of the mighty volcano.My uncle never took his eyes from off it;he could not keep from gesticulating,and looking at it with a kind of sullen defiance as much as to say "That is the giant I have made up my mind to conquer."After four hours of steady traveling,the horses stopped of themselves before the door of the presbytery of Stapi.
