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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, I was compelled once more to mount my

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