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town, and bears an inscription in which he calls Iceland his Fatherland. There remains but the Althing, or House of Parliament, to see before bidding farewell to Reykiavik. For some unknown reason the natives imagine it to resemble 'some of the Renaissance palaces of Florence, such as the Palazzo Strozzi.' As a matter of sober fact, it is a very ordinary stone building, such as might be occupied by a small employer of labour outside Birmingham or Manchester. Within its walls sit the Upper and Lower Houses, consisting of fourteen and thirty-two members respectively, the Commons being elected by men over twenty-five years of age, who pay not less than four kroners a year to Government, and the Senate being chosen partly by Government and partly by the Commons. The Chambers only sit every second year, and when they disagree a conference is held and a two-thirds majority decides the question. I attended one sitting of the Commons, standing, or rather crouching, in a miniature gallery, and looking down into a small square room in which the representatives of the people sat in a semicircle, with their President in the centre and the Minister of Denmark beside him. This last-named official (who corresponds somewhat to the Governor of the Isle of Man, I imagine) was having rather a difficult time, as he was trying to persuade the Icelanders to spend a good deal more money upon the impending reception of the King of Denmark than they seemed inclined to do. Not that the Radical party felt a spark of disloyalty toward their ancient ally on the Continent of Europe, but they felt-as in duty bound to their 'progressive' constituents-called upon to remonstrate against any expenditure which might infer subservience. They were the more stimulated to expostulate on this occasion as somebody had just invented a brand new Icelandic flag--a white cross on a blue ground-which the daring spirits intended to flaunt above the Danish Standard at the time of the Royal visit!

It was the one modern thing that I saw in Iceland, this frockcoated assembly of lawgivers. They seemed to inhabit somewhat uneasily this tabernacle of wood and stone; they whose ancestors for a thousand years had held their Parliament and promulgated their laws from the ancient plain of Thingvellir, where white glaciers, blue mountains, high cliffs, lend dignity and beauty to the scene; where the river Öxara falls in a foaming flood from the mountains into the green plain, and the heavens themselves are mirrored in the waters of the largest lake in Iceland. How different must have been the legislative session of those olden days from that

which I saw! I quote a picturesque description of it from an Icelandic book:

For the two weeks over which the Althing extended Thingvellir presented a brilliant and varied scene. From all quarters ride the chiefs with their followers to the assembly, their bright weapons glancing in the sunshine; by the side of many a chief ride gaily dressed ladies, his wife and daughter, or kinswomen. In an instant the whole plain is alive with men and horses. Friends who have not met for years, greet each other; some unharness their horses and lead them away to graze; some arrange and store their baggage; some are building new booths, and some repairing old ones or spreading the awnings over them. At once there rises a whole village of booths, with green turf walls covered by white awnings. Thursday is occupied in getting the booths into order and settling down generally. On Friday and Saturday the multitude crowds round the Lögberg (Hill of Laws) to hear the Speaker (lögsögymadur) recite the Laws of the land, and on these days also the judges are appointed and the courts constituted. On Sunday the real work of the Assembly begins, when the legislative council holds its first meeting. On Monday the courts begin to sit, and thenceforward the work goes on vigorously for the rest of the time of Assembly, in a constant succession of councils, judgments, proclamations on the Hill of Laws, etc. The intervals of this serious business are filled up with various relaxations. Men visit each other in the booths, woo the fair daughters of the chieftains, wrestle on Fangabrekka, or listen to the narratives of some good story teller; for it was the custom that he who knew most tales and could tell them best recited his narratives aloud, while the people crowded around to listen.

No traveller should miss seeing this historic spot, albeit there remain but few traces of its past glories. Nor should he, before leaving Reykiavik, omit a journey out to Geysir, the celebrated hot-spring which has made the name of 'geyser' famous throughout the world. It is a comfortable two-days' trip from the capital, and-if the spring is in eruption-well worth the time spent, not only on account of the peculiar characteristics of the spring itself, but also because the path leads through typical Icelandic scenery.

After visiting these places, and having sampled the capital deep-sea fishing in the bay, we left Reykiavik, feeling that the possibilities of enjoyment were far from exhausted, since we had no time for the numerous excursions in search of scenery and sport which Helgi Zöega (the Thomas Cook & Son of the island) suggested for our amusement. Our destination was the Hval (Whale) fjord, about two hours' steaming west of Reykiavik. The scenery had not the variety or the charm of the Norwegian fjords, yet it was massive and lonely and impressive. We landed in a little bay, where there was no sign of human habitation, and made our way inland to the farmsteading of an old burgher, who owned the fishing on an excellent little salmon river which we were anxious to try. It was a difficult walk, especially for the ladies, over rocks

and broken lava shingle, but memorable on account of the wonderful variety of sea-birds that we encountered. Golden plover and snipe called to us in confidence, sea-swallows and magpies and gulls innumerable circled in the air above our path, eider-ducks and puffins trotted along the shore in front of us. At length we reached the farmhouse, a turfed and timbered dwelling, and our incursion caused no little surprise. The old proprietor was out in his hayfields, with a score or so of young men and maidens; all hands at work, making the most of the sunshine. Nothing could have exceeded their kindness to us. A rich meal of coffee and cakes and jam was spread out in the guest-chamber, and horses were afterwards provided to take us down to the river-a most attractive arrangement of rocky pools and waterfalls-in which the salmon. were rising by the dozen, declining to be caught by fly or minnow, or anything except the homely worm.

Thus, shooting snipe and wild-duck, or fishing, the days passed most agreeably. They are charming people, these upland families in the back of beyond. Their hospitality is so real, nothing seems to be too much trouble for them. The men, it is true, are indolent, and not remarkable for many of the manly virtues; but they are well educated and delightful in conversation. Their women-folk are held of smaller account; they do the rough work in and about the farms, and the daughters of the house may not even sit down to eat until they have served the men of the party. But, to the eye of the foreigner, they are certainly the superior sex, and we all fell victims to their captivating features and voices. It is, indeed, hard to realise that such charm can exist in surroundings so primitive, for life is primitive indeed where it is customary for the youths of both sexes in a household (not even of the same family) to sleep in the same great Badstofa,' or general living-room. The bathing system, too, would not exactly satisfy the requirements of some censorious and twentieth-century persons; for, as a rule, the whole family indulges simultaneously, though very occasionally, in a vapour bath, which is procured by lighting a fire beneath a cairn of stones, which become white-hot, and then pouring buckets of cold water over them. Clouds of steam fill the bath-chamber, and the bathers invigorate one another with rudimentary massage. Of course, these old-time habits are now confined to isolated hamlets, and have long been impossible in the capital or trading centres, where the hot-springs can often be requisitioned and adapted to serve the purposes of the most elegant bath-room.

A summer Sunday is a great day in the villages of Iceland. There is no work-if the hay is all in-and from each farm a cavalcade of men and women and children on sturdy little ponies proceeds to the village church. From far and near they gather together and gossip over the news of the week until the parson arrives on his pony, and the bells begin to ring, the signal for the worshippers to enter the church. Service over, the general circle re-forms and the isolation of six days is all forgotten in the cheerful reunion of the seventh. At these gatherings the traveller has the best opportunity of seeing the quaint old customs which are so distinctive of the Icelanders. He will also come across the finest specimens of the native breed of ponies, which are collected by traders from the upland farms, and shipped from the coast in hundreds to Leith, whence they are dispersed to the coal-mining districts of Great Britain.

Such is my imperfect memory of a delightful trip to Iceland, a veritable Haven of Rest in an age when all other countries are striving after progress and money. But our visit was too short to exhaust all the possibilities of the island, which can still offer sporting and scenic attractions that are difficult to beat. Another time I shall be greatly tempted to arrange for a caravan of ponies, and strike across country from Reykiavik to the North, returning either by the east or west coast. Such a journey was performed last year by a couple of young English officers of my acquaintance, who were loud in their praises of the shooting and fishing to be obtained for little more than the asking. Their only difficulty-and who has not experienced it in some part of the world?-was with the guides, who left something to be desired though they were by no means indispensable. My friends dismissed their cicerone when only half way through their tour. What was their surprise, on returning to Reykiavik, to find him established as Governor of the State Prison, a proud official, resplendent in a green-and-gold uniform, ready to take his part in the great reception which awaited the King of Denmark.

IAN MALCOLM.

127

PRISCILLA OF THE GOOD INTENT

A ROMANCE OF THE GREY fells.

BY HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE.

CHAPTER I.

THE blacksmith's forge stood just this side of the village as you entered it from Shepston, and David Blake, the smith, was blowing lustily at his bellows, while the sweat dripped down his face. The cool of a spring morning came through the doorway, against which leaned a heavy, slouching lad.

'Te-he, David the Smith! Sparks do go scrambling up chimley,' said Billy the Fool, with a fat and empty laugh.

They called him Billy the Fool for old affection's sake, with no sense of reproach; for the old ways of thought had a fast hold on Garth village, and a natural was held in a certain awe, as being something midway between a prophet and a child.

'Ay, sparks are scrambling up. 'Tis a way they have, Billy,' answered the other cheerily. What's your news?

'Grand news

Again Billy laughed, but cunningly this time. all about myself. Was up at sunrise, and been doing naught ever since. I'm main fond of doing naught, Blacksmith David. Seems to trickle down your body, does idleness, like good ale.'

The blacksmith loosed his hold on the bellows' handles and turned about, while he passed a hand across his forehead.

'Is there naught ye like better than idleness?' he asked. 'Think now, Billy-just ponder over it.'

'Well, now,' answered the other, after a silence, 'there's playing what ye might call playing at a right good game. Could ye think of some likely pastime, Blacksmith David ?

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'Ay, could I. Blowing bellows is the grandest frolic ever I came across.'

1

Billy the Fool was wary, after his own fashion, and he looked

Copyright, 1908, by Halliwell Sutcliffe, in the United States of America.

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