Letters From High Latitudes
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第19章 LETTER VII(1)

KISSES--WILSON ON HORSEBACK--A LAVA PLATEAU--THINGVALLA--ALMANNAGIA--RABNAGIA--OUR TENT--THE SHIVERED PLAIN--WITCH-DROWNING--A PARLIAMENTARY DEBATE,A.D.1000--THANGBRAND THE MISSIONARY--A GERMAN GNAT-CATCHER--THEMYSTICAL MOUNTAINS--SIR OLAF--HECKLA--SKAPTA JOKUL--THEFIRE DELUGE OF 1783--WE REACH THE GEYSIR--STROKR--FITZ'SBONNE FORTUNE--MORE KISSES--AN ERUPTION--PRINCE NAPOLEON--RETURN--TRADE--POPULATION--A MUTINY--THE REINEHORTENSE--THE SEVEN DUTCHMEN--A BALL--LOW DRESSES--NORTHWARD HO!

Reykjavik,July 7,1856.

At last I have seen the famous Geysirs,of which every one has heard so much;but I have also seen Thingvalla,of which no one has heard anything.The Geysirs are certainly wonderful marvels of nature,but more wonderful,more marvellous is Thingvalla;and if the one repay you for crossing the Spanish Sea,it would be worth while to go round the world to reach the other.

Of the boiling fountains I think I can give you a good idea,but whether I can contrive to draw for you anything like a comprehensible picture of the shape and nature of the Almannagja,the Hrafnagja,and the lava vale,called Thingvalla,that lies between them,I am doubtful.Before coming to Iceland I had read every account that had been written of Thingvalla by any former traveller,and when I saw it,it appeared to me a place of which I had never heard;so I suppose I shall come to grief in as melancholy a manner as my predecessors,whose ineffectual pages whiten the entrance to the valley they have failed to describe.

Having superintended--as I think I mentioned to you in my last letter--the midnight departure of the cook,guides,and luggage,we returned on board for a good night's rest,which we all needed.The start was settled for the next morning at eleven o'clock,and you may suppose we were not sorry to find,on waking,the bright joyous sunshine pouring down through the cabin skylight,and illuminating the white-robed,well-furnished breakfast-table with more than usual splendour.At the appointed hour we rowed ashore to where our eight ponies--two being assigned to each of us,to be ridden alternately--were standing ready bridled and saddled,at the house of one of our kindest friends.Of course,though but just risen from breakfast,the inevitable invitation to eat and drink awaited us;and another half-hour was spent in sipping cups of coffee poured out for us with much laughter by our hostess and her pretty daughter.At last,the necessary libations accomplished,we rose to go.Turning round to Fitz,I whispered,how I had always understood it was the proper thing in Iceland for travellers departing on a journey to kiss the ladies who had been good enough to entertain them,--little imagining he would take me at my word.Guess then my horror,when I suddenly saw him,with an intrepidity I envied but dared not imitate,first embrace the mamma,by way of prelude,and then proceed,in the most natural manner possible,to make the same tender advances to the daughter.I confess I remained dumb with consternation;the room swam round before me;I expected the next minute we should be packed neck and crop into the street,and that the young lady would have gone off into hysterics.It turned out,however,that such was the very last thing she was thinking of doing.With a simple frankness that became her more than all the boarding-school graces in the world,her eyes dancing with mischief and good humour,she met him half way,and pouting out two rosy lips,gave him as hearty a kiss as it might ever be the good fortune of one of us he-creatures to receive.From that moment I determined to conform for the future to the customs of the inhabitants.

Fresh from favours such as these,it was not surprising we should start in the highest spirits.With a courtesy peculiar to Iceland,Dr.Hjaltelin,the most jovial of doctors,--and another gentleman,insisted on conveying us the first dozen miles of our journey;and as we clattered away through the wooden streets,I think a merrier party never set out from Reykjavik.In front scampered the three spare ponies,without bridles,saddles,or any sense of moral responsibility,flinging up their heels,biting and neighing like mad things;then came Sigurdr,now become our chief,surrounded by the rest of the cavalcade;and finally,at a little distance,plunged in profound melancholy,rode Wilson.Never shall I forget his appearance.During the night his head had come partially straight,but by way of precaution,I suppose,he had conceived the idea of burying it down to the chin in a huge seal-skin helmet I had given him against the inclemencies of the Polar Sea.As on this occasion the thermometer was at 81degrees,and a coup-de-soleil was the chief thing to be feared,a ton of fur round his skull was scarcely necessary.Seamen's trousers,a bright scarlet jersey,and jack-boots fringed with cat-skin,completed his costume;and as he proceeded along in his usual state of chronic consternation,with my rifle slung at his back and a couple of telescopes over his shoulder,he looked the image of Robinson Crusoe,fresh from having seen the foot-print.

A couple of hours'ride across the lava plain we had previously traversed brought us to a river,where our Reykjavik friends,after showing us a salmon weir,finally took their leave,with many kind wishes for our prosperity.