to Skalholt, at nine this morning our horses
were loaded, and we started for that place.
Frequently, as we went along, did I look
back to catch a last glimpse of the scene
which had afforded me a higher gratification
than any thing I ever beheld in my life,
and a pleasure which was only diminished
by the want of an agreeable companion who
could have been a partaker of the enjoyment
with me: so true is the observation of
the admirable French writer,—that every
thing in this world, even solitude itself,
loses half its charms, if we cannot have
somebody to whom to tell how charming it
is. At about twelve o’clock at noon, we
arrived at the house of a kind peasant,
whom we had seen at church the day before,
and who, knowing we were this morning
to pass his cottage, had stationed himself
at the door with all his family, in their
best dresses, to invite us to enter and take
some refreshment. We were shewn into
the fish-house, where cushions were placed
for our accommodation upon one of the
chests that hold their clothes, and some
excellent new milk was set before us. From
my host I first learned the difficulty, or, as
RETURN FROM THE GEYSER*. 1 8 5
©
he said, the impossibility of reaching Hecla
after the late heavy rains, Which would, in
all likelihood, preclùde any possibility of
access to the mountain, or, even if thè inter-
mediate obstacles cotild be removed, and the
base of the hill attained, Would, most certainly,
render climbing impracticable, by
reason of the torrents of water rushing down
On every side. I did not give much ear t'o
this piece of information, though it was
echoed by my Reikevig guide, who now began
to show evident symptoms of fear at the
prospect of visiting Hecla, and I determined,
at all events, to proceed to Skalholt, as the
onlv place .where I should have a chance of
obtaining more certain tidings, and guides
to accompany me. Near this house 1 met
with an itinerant beggar, of which there are
many in Iceland ; some of whom adopt this
mode of life through idleness, and others
through actual inability to do any sort of
labor that might support them. The scanty
supply of food Which they necessarily procure
by such means, in a country where even
the most industrious are often reduced to a
state bordering on starvation, renders these
poor wretches real objects of pity and