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* - i
plunged in soot. But their mirth abated as soon as we
came nearer them and dropped down dead, for so they
thought us, we being neither able to stir nor speak.
They rubbed our temples, nostrils and hands with
vinegar, and did what they could to bring us to life
again.
He then gives some account of the natives—that is,
of the fishermen—some of whom, he says, live in
caverns in the rocks, others in huts, some built with
fish-bones, some with wood covered with turf. They
and their beasts lie under the same roof; they are all
both men and women; they lie upon hay or straw
in their clothes with skins upon them, and make but
one bed for the whole family. All their work is
fishing; they are nasty, rude, and brutal: they are
almost all of them wizards and witches; they worship
the devil by the name of Kobald ; they worship an idol
cut out of a piece of wood with a knife, very hideous to
look on, which they adore privately, and hide for fear of
the Lutheran priests.
The condition of the poor Iceland fishermen is, I
believe, as miserable, taking into consideration the
horrible climate, as that of any human beings on the
face of the earth, but they certainly are not quite such
savages as the Frenchman has represented them. The
“ Voyage to the North,” however, is substantially
true in that part which relates to Norway, and his
account of the Copper Mines at Roraas differs in little
or nothing from what I found them on my recent visit.
This work of the French doctor is a curious little volume
which I met with by accident.
The next writer that the English reader knows anything
about is one Anderson, a burgomaster of Hamburg,
who, however, was at no time on the spot, but gives
such stories as he could pick up from masters of ships,
and supercargoes trading to Iceland. Horrebow, who
succeeded him, truly says that the old burgomaster’s
book is filled with romantic tales, and false and severe
accusations. This author was a Dane, and remained
on the island two years. One of his objects seems to
have been that of correcting the blunders of Anderson ;
but he calls his book the Natural History of Iceland.
Both are full of monsters and marvellous stoi-ies,
and the information of both is vague, unsatisfactory,
and little to be depended on. Olafsen and Povelsen'^'
were next despatched, in 1757, by order of the King
of Denmark, to survey the whole island. Olafsen was a
native, and Povelsen the first physician of the island.
They published a most elaborate report of what they saw,
—and they saw a great deal,—but for want of arrangement,
or rather too much arrangement, and by a
tiresome repetition of the same things four several times,
in describing the four provinces, their account wants that
lucidus ordo by which much information may be conveyed
in a short compass. These repetitions, and the
minute enumeration of the long hard names of places that
have no interest, are enough to tire the patience of the
most persevering reader. Still there is much valuable
if