Chapter VII

“In such a world, and so stormy, and where none
Finds happiness unblighted, or if found,
Without some thistly sorrow at its side,
It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin
Against the law of love, to measure lots
With less distinguished than ourselves, that thus
We may with patience bear our mod’rate ills,
And sympathise with others suffering more.”

COWPER.

Since leaving Reykjavik at noon yesterday, we have passed into, and out of the Western Hemisphere, and have almost touched the Arctic Circle.

We spend our second Sunday in High Latitudes at sea, and shortly after midnight drop anchor off the port of Akureyri, the principal town on the north coast of Iceland. It contains a population numbered only by hundreds, and is pleasantly situated on the right hand side of a land-locked bay, which forms the southern extremity of—and is entered through—a narrow channel from the Eya Fiord. The encircling mountains, even at this advanced season of the year, are streaked with snow, which not only covers their summits, but in many places creeps down the slopes till it touches the weed-strewn beach. There is plenty of deep water in the magnificent harbour before us, in which, to all appearance, the combined navies of the world might lie at anchor at one time.

At an early hour on Monday morning (July 20) the Camoens is boarded by Dr Jon. A. Hjaltalin, the Physician General of Iceland, to whose extensive knowledge of the history and condition of his country our captain has made frequent reference during the voyage, and to whom he presently introduces us. In the course of conversation Dr Hjaltalin kindly enlightens me on a few points about which I have been in doubt.

Nothing could be brighter or more enjoyable than the weather with which we are favoured; but I am informed by Dr Hjaltalin that this is the first fine day the people of Akureyri have had for ten days, the sun not having been seen during that period in consequence of constant rain and fog, and the thermometer having shown no less than six degrees of frost at night. One of our shipmates tested the temperature of the water in the fiord at half-past ten o’clock last night and found it to be forty-three degrees, that of the atmosphere at the same hour being indicated as forty-nine degrees.

But from published returns I learn that though the winter is much keener in the north, the summer is proportionately milder. In winter the fiord is filled with ice, and a photograph taken by a local photographer represents it under such circumstances, and gives one an excellent idea of the severity of the Arctic winter.

The Icelanders generally wear knitted worsted gloves, with two thumbs but no fingers, the object of which must be economy, for gloves so made, being reversible, can be worn on either hand, and thus exchanged when they become shabby.

Dr Hjaltalin confirms the statement I have heard that women are not expected to marry in Iceland until they are able to educate their own children, and tells me that the people generally—though by no means remarkable for scholarship—are able, one and all, to pass a creditable examination in the elements of education.

I have heard that in Iceland the wife does not sit down to table along with her husband, family, or guests; but either serves them, or sits in an adjoining room where she can see and be seen during the progress of the meal. This I learn to be correct! It does not arise, however, as I naturally supposed, from any assumption of superiority on the part of the man, or from any intention on his part to indicate the inferiority of the woman, for such is not the case, the sexes occupying that position of equality which invariably distinguishes highly civilised from comparatively uncivilised communities. The fact is that the food, being served in portions—a custom which has originated no doubt on account of its scarcity and the consequent necessity for care in its distribution—the wife, who is entrusted with the household management, naturally takes upon herself the duty of supplying the wants of her family and friends to prevent waste. When she does not herself wait at table she sits in an adjoining apartment, for the ostensible purpose of superintending her servants, whom—like many mistresses elsewhere,—with or without reason, she has a habit of distrusting. An Englishman who had dined with a man of good social position in Iceland told me that he had been greatly struck with the absence of his hostess from the table, especially as he observed her seated, handsomely dressed, in the next room. It is high time that such a custom were abolished, for it is certainly out of sympathy with those of other European communities where woman, in the family and social circles, is treated with becoming respect.

Referring to the state of agriculture in Iceland, a subject on which I am beginning to be somewhat interested, Dr. Hjaltalin states that the Icelander of early days cultivated a good deal more land than his descendants do; that he himself is one of those who believe that the climatic and other difficulties which stand in the way of cultivation, though very great, are not altogether insuperable; and that there are no doubt large tracts of land, hitherto untouched by the plough, which might, if the people possessed more energy and more enterprise, be made to yield crops of some sort.

He tells me that imported seed has been sown in Iceland experimentally, but that after repeated trials it has proved a failure. He admits, however, that there is force in my suggestion that there must be some kinds of fruits and cereals—not indigenous—which with the exercise of skill and care might be coaxed to become acclimatised.

I learn with pleasure that in various parts of the country schools of agriculture have been established which are conducted by teachers who have been educated in Norway. Believing, as I do, in the absolute necessity for technical education in every trade and calling to which it can be applied, I note this fact with surprise and satisfaction, especially when I remember that in England, where the farming interest is so great, no attempt has hitherto been made to teach the science of agriculture to those engaged in that occupation which the Chinese—with the shrewdness and common sense which characterise so many of their ways and habits—rank as the highest that a man can follow; placing the farmer first in order of social precedence, and the soldier last; the one being regarded as a national benefactor, the other as a necessary evil.

In many of our colonies, where both Governments and people are alive to the folly of neglecting this branch of national education, Schools of Agriculture have been established, notably in Canada, at Guelph, Ont., where there is an admirable and world-famed institution. It must, therefore, be regarded as a sign of ignorance and apathy on the part of British tenant-farmers and landed proprietors alike, that though the material interests of both might be largely advanced thereby, they have as yet taken no steps either to supply the want of such teaching as is now being given to the poor peasants of Iceland, or even to agitate for its provision by the State. I am quite aware that there are several institutions in Great Britain where agricultural science is taught to a superior class of students, but I believe nothing has been done in the direction I have indicated. Dr. Hjaltalin himself presides over a large institute, or college, at Modruvellir, in which the students receive thorough training in scientific and other branches of higher education.

On asking for a reason for the general and evident neglect of agriculture by the people, he tells me that during the continuance of the oppressive monopoly, to which I have already referred at length, the Icelander worked for a drudge’s wages in preference to cultivating his land, because the monopolists wanted fish and oil and not agricultural produce. The poor peasant being literally “between the Devil and the deep sea,”—between Monopoly and Starvation—had no alternative but to apply himself to those industries which would afford him the means of eking out his miserable existence, and thus allowed land to lie untilled which ought to have yielded sufficient food to have rendered him more independent.

There were, however, in early days, as now, isolated families and communities, who lived in the interior, a long way from the sea, and it is a striking fact, and one worth mentioning in these days of coming land reforms, that these peasant proprietors, to use Dr. Hjaltalin’s own words, “were the best off, no doubt, because necessity, which is a hard taskmaster, compelled them to depend upon the produce of the land instead of that of the sea.”

I remark to Dr. Hjaltalin that I am inclined to believe the country is capable of raising stock to a greater extent than is done at present, and he agrees with me. He says that the grass in Iceland is better in quality than that of Scotland, and can be cut, in favourable districts, three times during a season, though the latter cannot be said to last more than five months. Land is considered good which produces one ton of grass per annum per Danish acre of nine hundred square fathoms. The ponies, which exist in a state of semi-starvation during winter, can be kept on grass alone, without oats or any other kind of food. Cows in Iceland give more milk, in proportion to what they eat, than those of any other country, the average yield of each cow per annum being about two thousand quarts. Dr. Hjaltalin has one milker which gave more than three thousand quarts last year. Each cow eats about twenty-five pounds of grass per diem. A sheep can be kept indoors during winter on three hundred pounds of hay.

Being aware that Iceland exports a considerable quantity of wool which is used in the West Riding I put a few questions to Dr Hjaltalin on the subject, especially with the view of ascertaining how it is that wool consumed in Yorkshire is shipped to Copenhagen, and not to Leith. He tells me that it arises from the fact that there is still a little difficulty in persuading farmers to sell their wool for money, they having been accustomed for many years to set it aside to be exchanged with the Danish merchants for the necessaries of life.

They are now fast becoming wider awake, however, and it is probable that before long the trade in wool, and in everything else, will be conducted, not upon the “tick and truck system,” but upon the basis of currency. When that time arrives, Iceland wool will no doubt find its way direct to the English market, but the result of the present mode of doing business is that there is what Dr Hjaltalin calls “an inflation” price both for goods imported and exported. Just now washed wool fetches about sixty öre (8d) in exchange for goods; and nothing more clearly indicates the viciousness of the truck system and its restraining influence on trade, than the fact that the Danish exporter not only pays freight to Copenhagen, and thence again on reshipment to Leith, but actually sells the wool to the English consumer, at considerably less than the price which he professes to pay to the grower.

During the afternoon Mr Kristjan Jonasarsson, of Narfastodum, Reykjadal, near Akureyri, comes on board and asks for the gentleman from the West Riding of Yorkshire. I at once acknowledge my identity, and on going upstairs have a pleasant chat with Mr Jonasarsson, who has been sent to me by Dr Hjaltalin. I find that it is under the consideration of the farmers of Akureyri to send him to England to make enquiries as to the best modes of wool-washing, &c., and to compare notes generally with the Yorkshire consumers with a view of subsequently bringing about a direct trade in wool between Iceland and England, and this is his apology for waiting upon me.

He tells me that thirteen years ago—in 1872—Iceland wool was selling for 137 öre (about 18½d) per Danish pound—(one hundred and one and a half Danish pounds are equal to one hundred and twelve English pounds)—and scarcely seems able to realise the enormous decline in values since then, and the depreciation of bright wools in consequence of change of fashion.

Under present conditions of purchase there is only one price for wool, whether good or bad, and the farmer has therefore no inducement to bestow extra care upon his flocks with a view of improving the quality of the fleece, in order to increase his profits.

In his recent admirable work on “The Structure of the Wool Fibre,” Dr F. H. Bowman, than whom there is probably no greater authority in England, says that he is of opinion “that our perfection in spinning is in excess of our perfection in preparing the fibres for spinning, and”—(the remark is worth noting)—“decidedly in advance of the present state of perfection of the raw material we have to use.” “Nothing,” he adds, “will more improve our manufacture than improvement in the growth of the wool itself, which will reduce the irregularities in the component fibres, and thus render them better fitted for making a comparatively good yarn.”

In the face of these statements it seems imperatively necessary that the Icelander, if he wishes to develope the wool trade and to increase his exports, should bestir himself to bring about an exchange of commodities on business principles, direct with the English consumer, and without the intervention of a foreign and far-away middleman. The proposal to send an agent to England to make enquiries is a proof that the people are beginning to be alive to the fact that they have lived in a Sleepy Hollow long enough; and is one which, if carried out, will no doubt eventually lead to advantageous results.

Dr. Bowman mentions that the Iceland sheep—of which there are two breeds—have this peculiarity that they have seldom fewer than four, and sometimes as many as eight, horns. “When the horns are not more than five they are placed in one row, and all spring from the frontal bone, as in the case of the native sheep of Cyprus, but when there are more than five they are placed in rows one behind the other.” This curious freak of nature is, I am assured, exceptional, most of the Iceland sheep having not more than two horns.

Mr Jonasarsson tells me that a year-old sheep will yield an average of from one and a half pounds to two pounds, and those from two years old and upwards of about three pounds, of washed wool per annum. The total export of wool is estimated at upwards of one million pounds weight. In 1871, according to official statistics, there were about 370,000 sheep of all kinds in Iceland; but my informant puts the present total down on a rough estimate at 500,000. There is no doubt whatever in my own mind, and I am confirmed in the belief by Mr Jonasarsson, that with an increasing demand, and better facilities for disposing of the supply on cash terms, the quantity of wool might be considerably increased, and its quality greatly improved. The skins, which are exported to Denmark, also fetch nominally fictitious prices.

At Akureyri the local agent of Messrs. R. & D. Slimon, has arranged for a shipment of ponies, and there being deep water close in-shore the Camoens is presently berthed alongside a little pier, and at once commences to discharge cargo.

A number of us, prior to this, manage to land in a boat which we find tied to the gangway. The owner, as he rushes frantically to the bulwarks in an excited state of mind, seems to fear that we are going to run away with it, for being perilously overladen, we actually refuse to permit him to enter his own boat, a piece of impudence which we subsequently explain, and for which we apologise.

On reaching the shore we find ourselves in the midst of a crowd of men and ponies, congregated in the vicinity of several small wooden stores or sheds, which form the trading station. A little further on, a large weather-board many-windowed building, which seems to be the principal place of business on the coast, is flaunting the Danish flag in honour of our arrival, and in the adjoining fields, and along the shore, we see hundreds of ponies, and numerous groups of men, women, and children.

Passing through these we make our way to Akureyri along a road which skirts the beach, stopping for a few minutes to inspect a shark oil manufactory where nothing is to be seen, however, but a number of large iron cauldrons in which a thick dirty-looking brown liquid is bubbling lazily. This is an important industry in Iceland, the oil being exported to Denmark, and largely used in the manufacture of soap.

The following extract, which I have condensed from an English newspaper, is rather interesting: “The shark caught is known as the ‘Squabus Borealis.’ The liver only is used, the flesh, however, being sometimes preserved for food. The fish vary in size up to from eighteen to twenty feet in length, and from four to five feet in diameter at the thickest part. The yield of oil runs from five to fifty gallons per fish. The schooners employed in the trade are from thirty to fifty tons burden, and are manned by from eight to ten men. The usual fishing season is from January or February until August. In winter the sharks are found in shallow water, twenty miles from land, at a depth of fifty fathoms or thereabouts. In summer they make for deeper water and go further out to sea, being found about one hundred miles from the coast, and at a depth of about two hundred fathoms. The hooks used are from twelve to eighteen inches long and are baited with horseflesh or seal blubber, the quantity required for each hook weighing about eight pounds. To the end of the line—which measures one and a half inches in diameter—two yards of chain are attached and the bait is drawn up to a height of about two fathoms from the bottom. On being brought to the surface the shark is attacked with harpoons and lances and when dead is cut open to remove the liver. The crew get about 55s per month and a bonus of 6d per barrel each. The captain receives two kroner (2s 3d) on each of the first hundred barrels of the season’s catch, and three kroner (3s 4½d) on the remainder.”

We spend an hour or two at Akureyri, and having previously heard that there are actually three trees in Iceland, and that these are to be seen at Akureyri, one of the main objects of our visit is to see them. I am glad to be able to report that I counted no fewer than five mountain ash, or rowan trees, which are a source of great pride to the inhabitants.

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PLATE VIII.

1 Landing place at Akureyri.
2 One of the five trees at Akureyri.—3 Principal store.
4 Fishing in the Glera.—5 Waterfall of the Glera.
6 Shipping ponies.
]

It is said that an Icelander who, for the first time in his life, looks upon “a spreading chestnut tree,” or “a brave old oak,” regards it with even more interest and curiosity than he does a locomotive.

We lunch at the new weatherboard hotel on the hill side, and there meet two English gentlemen—sportsmen and naturalists—who are packing up in order to join us on the return voyage to Granton.

Hearing that there is a “Foss” or waterfall a mile or two distant which is worth seeing, a few of us make our way thither, and after an easy climb obtain a good view of the tumbling stream, the Glera—(clear stream)—which leaps from a plateau into a rocky chasm or rift, whence, on emerging, it makes its way, by half a dozen channels, across the pebbly beach to the fiord.

The sky is gradually becoming clouded, and as rain is threatening we make our way back to the ship, where we find the crew busily engaged in shipping ponies, at which they exhibit considerable expertness, the result of frequent practice. The little animals, having been driven on to an enclosed pier, or pen, are passed on, one by one, to a sloping platform that touches the sides of the vessel. A broad girth having been placed under the belly of the foremost, a signal is given to the man at the winch, and in a few seconds the poor little frightened animal may be seen swinging high in the air over the open hatch, into which it is speedily lowered. On reaching the lower deck it is placed with several companions in one or other of a series of stalls built for the purpose. I timed the men and found that it took an average of just one minute to transfer each pony from pier to hold.

Messrs Slimon and Co. have greatly developed this important trade, and on one voyage the Camoens conveyed to Scotland no fewer than 975 ponies. Experience has resulted in considerable improvements in the mode of transporting them. Formerly, in rough weather, it was not uncommon to lose a large number, accidents being frequent and deaths numerous. Now, however, the deck is covered with sand and gravel to a depth of from six to eight inches, and the patient animals are thus provided with a safe foothold which enables them to keep their legs even in the stormiest weather.

Everybody credits “Jack” with the possession of a kind heart, and I have often noticed on shipboard how fond the crew are of some dumb creature which has made its “home on the rolling deep.” Personally I am strongly of opinion that a dog ought to be the first and constant companion of a child from its cradle.

“Dogs are honest creatures,
Ne’er fawn on any that they love not;
And I’m a friend to dogs,—
They ne’er betray their masters.”

I feel assured that were children accustomed from infancy to regard some dumb brute with affectionate kindness, there would be much more likelihood of their turning out humane and tender-hearted men and women, for there is no greater truth than that expressed in these beautiful and well-known lines of Coleridge:—

“He prayeth best who loveth most
All things both great and small,
For the good God who loveth them
Hath made and loved us all.”

These thoughts suggest themselves to my mind because I observe that the sailors, one and all, are exceedingly kind in their treatment of the little trembling creatures, and that everybody on board who speaks of them does so in terms which are almost affectionate. Every precaution is taken to ensure that during the voyage they shall be carefully and regularly supplied with water and excellent hay, and the hatches are well ventilated. Indeed I should imagine that if a pony could speak it would express its regret at being obliged to leave the Camoens, especially if it knew that its probable destination in England or Scotland was the bottom of a coal pit.

The market value of the ponies varies of course, according to quality, prices for ordinary animals when we were at Akureyri being about fifty shillings per head; but we saw several which were valued at as much as £20 each.

I have heard it stated that at one time they were actually killed for bait by the shark fishers, and I almost wonder that in a country where cereals are imported and food is so scarce hippophagy is not prevalent under the circumstances.

It is to the fact that in heathen times horseflesh was eaten at the sacrificial feasts, that its disuse in Christian countries is mainly attributable, Christians rejecting it because of its former use in the idolatrous worship of their heathen brethren, I suppose on the same principle as those, of whom we read in the New Testament, who refused meat which had been offered to idols.

But every holiday comes to an end.

“The world must turn upon its axis
And all mankind turn with it heads or tails,
And live or die, make love, and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails.”

Between 9.0 p.m. and 10 p.m., the last of the ponies having been safely slung aboard, we weigh anchor, “shift our sails,” and steam up the fiord homeward bound.

As we glide along, the tops and higher slopes of the mountains on each side of us seem to be playing at hide and seek with the rolling clouds of mist that enshroud them from base to summit, and the result is a scenic effect whose weird picturesqueness is altogether different from anything we have previously observed.

The midnight sun is resting just below the horizon, preparatory to starting on another round of beneficence, and the sky is streaked with the hues and colours of early morning, which, along with the clouds and dark mountain slopes, are reflected upon the shimmering surface of a sea that resembles a sheet of glass.

The French man-of-war,—which left the harbour an hour or two before us,—and a few sailing vessels are seen like black specks in the distance ahead; but there is no sound to break the stillness of the night air except that throbbing of the engine amidships, and the rippling of the ocean at our bows.

About 8 a.m., on reaching deck after a sound sleep, we find ourselves steaming past a dark hilly rockbound coast, under a clouded sky, and learn that we are several miles within the Arctic Circle, which is the name given to “that portion of the earth’s surface that lies north of 66 degrees and 24 minutes north latitude, where during summer the days are continuous.”

Though we are many hundreds of miles from the Pole, or even from the regions of perpetual ice, we gaze upon the dark expanse of ocean around us with an interest which arises chiefly from the pathetic tragedies with which its mysteries are associated.

At the breakfast table conversation turns upon the subject of Arctic discoveries, and one of the two naturalists who joined us yesterday—a parson in mufti and a thoroughly good fellow—remarks, after mention has been made of the hardships endured by Arctic explorers, that he once heard of a ship-wrecked mariner who had been reduced to the necessity of eating his boots, which were full of holes, and who on being asked how he liked them, replied that “on the whole the holes tasted better than the boots!”

The same gentleman mentions that when in Akureyri he paid a morning call to arrange the amount of the fine to be inflicted upon him by the Sheriff for having, in violation of the law, shot birds out of season. The Sheriff very courteously invited him to his house to settle the matter, where having compounded the offence, much to his satisfaction, by payment of a fine of three kroner (3s 4½d), our companion spent a pleasant hour in friendly conversation with his hospitable judge.

I ought to remark here that the birds were shot purely in the interest of science, our informant being a well-known collector and a member of several scientific societies. Until recently the tourist was at liberty to shoot birds or animals whenever and wherever he found them; but this has been wisely altered, and although the law is no doubt constantly evaded, it is well that steps have been taken to prevent indiscriminate slaughter.

The gentleman above referred to informed me that there are four species of indigenous birds in Iceland, viz.:—The Iceland Falcon, the Iceland Golden-eyed Duck, the Rock Ptarmigan, and the Harlequin Duck. There used to be another species called the Great Auk, which is now extinct. It was found principally on the islands south of Reykjavik, and is supposed to have been destroyed during a volcanic eruption. I have been told that a French naturalist who visited Iceland some time ago offered a reward of £500 for a living specimen, but has hitherto been unable to obtain one.

During the afternoon we round Langenes, the north-east extremity of Iceland, and steam south, keeping the coast constantly in view. On the third day out from Akureyri we pass the Faroe Islands during the night, but on the following morning are enveloped in a fog from an early hour, and have to stop the engines several times to take soundings in order to ascertain from the character of the bottom what is our probable position.

We find that we are in sixty-three fathoms of water, and over a bank of shells and gravel, and on going down with the captain to his room he is able to point out our approximate latitude and longitude by comparing the evidence thus obtained with the soundings indicated on the Admiralty Chart. No one who has not had experience of the difficulties of navigation can form any idea of the inestimable boon which has been conferred upon mankind by the patient researches of those naval officers who have, from time to time, surveyed the oceans of the world, and recorded their observations for the guidance of their brother sailors.

Early on the morning of Friday (July 24th) we arrive off Thurso, where we land in a fishing boat in order—after a visit to the Orkney and Shetland Islands—to make our way home by way of Wick, Strathpeffer, Inverness, and the Caledonian Canal to Oban, Glasgow, and the West Riding of Yorkshire.

We bid good-bye regretfully to captain and crew, as well as to our fellow-passengers, most of whom turn out in dishabille to shake hands and wave farewell. The last sound borne to our ears on the morning breeze, as the vessel, which we are just beginning to regard as a home, steams on her way to Leith, is the refrain of the “Stoodent Sawng,” contributed by our American friend at Reykjavik, but neither the singers, nor the pleasant days spent in their company, will readily fade from my recollection, for “I think of them now when afar.”

It is an invaluable educational experience no doubt for a man to see the world, to gaze with admiration upon its beauties, and with wonder upon its mysteries and marvels; but there are no memories of travels—at least such is my own experience—so grateful and so abiding as those which centre round the kind hearts that one finds everywhere. If the man who denounces humanity, as I have heard men do, and complains of having received incivility, neglect, and discourtesy, from strangers in strange lands, will but be honest with himself he will probably find the true explanation of the treatment he has met with, in his own churlishness, or unwillingness to be friendly.

For my own part I have often had to thank strangers for having, at great personal inconvenience, made my path smooth, and for having greatly contributed to my comfort and enjoyment, and there is not a country, in any part of the world that I have visited, in which I have not received some unexpected attention, or had reason to be grateful for some disinterested kindness.

From those Icelanders with whom I came into personal contact I received only courtesy and civility, and I shall ever look back upon my trip to the Arctic Circle, and my wanderings in the great Wonderland of Europe, as amongst the most enjoyable of all my experiences as a traveller.

Though apparently almost overwhelmed by natural disadvantages, and hindered by his own lethargy and want of enterprise the Icelander has many excellent qualities, and has earned the good opinion of those who know him best; and I cannot help hoping and believing that a bright future lies before him which will to some extent compensate for the miseries and calamities of the past. Let me add in conclusion that no Briton, fagged with hard work, whether physical or mental, who seeks restoration to health and energy in the invigorating atmosphere of Iceland, or who spends a holiday amongst its geysirs and volcanoes, or in the pursuit of sport on the banks of its trout and salmon streams, will ever have reason to regret having been brought into social intercourse with the poor, but kindly and well-disposed people he will find there in town or country. Though

“They their stormy mansion tread,
And force the churlish soil for bread,”

they have a true love for their native land, and having now achieved political liberty, and secured the inestimable right of self-government, I for one do not doubt that actuated by that patriotism which Chateaubriand calls “L’instinct le plus noble du genre humain,” they will yet redeem their island-home from its present barrenness and crushing poverty, and in spite of snow and winter “make the wilderness to smile and blossom like the rose,” even in Ultima Thule.

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TOURISTS & SPORTSMEN

ABOUT TO

VISIT ICELAND

MAY OBTAIN INFORMATION

AS TO THE SAILINGS OF

THE S.S. “CAMOENS,”

BY APPLYING TO

Messrs. R. & D. SLIMON,

Leith and Iceland Steam Shipping Co.,

LEITH

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Transcriber’s Notes

▪ Note: Various archaic spellings have been retained. Printer’s errors and apparent misspellings have been changed and are noted below ▪ Note: Hyphenation has been standardized in cases noted below, where there is a predominant form in the text ▪ Note: The author’s spelling of Icelandic is quite variable. No attempt has been made to standardize spelling except to maintain internal consistency in usage within this book. ▪ Pg. Front matter: Missing or worn away period added: ‘F.R.G S.’ to ‘F.R.G.S.’ ▪ Pg. viii: Corrected typo: ‘Heimaeyklett and Istaklett’ to ‘Ystaklett’—Ystaklett elsewhere ▪ Pg. ix: œ/æ mixup resolved: ‘prœsturs’ to ‘præsturs’—æ elsewhere ▪ Pg. ix: œ/æ mixup resolved: ‘church endowments—the Prœstur’ to ‘Præstur’—æ elsewhere ▪ Pg. xi: Removed period: ‘... drawn by Mr. Alexander’ to ‘Mr’—Without period elsewhere ▪ Pg. 7: Removed extra open quote: ‘“As we pace along “Upon’ to ‘“As we pace along Upon’ ▪ Pg. 8: Hyphenation regularised: ‘Orœfa-jökull’ to ‘Orœfajökull’—Elsewhere without hyphen ▪ Pg. 14: Corrected typo: ‘summmer’ to ‘summer’ ▪ Pg. 17: Added comma: ‘The latter which would make very comfortable slippers’ to ‘The latter, which’ ▪ Pg. 18: Corrected typo: ‘Dr Ion A. Hjaltalin’ to ‘Jon’—Jon elsewhere ▪ Pg. 37: œ/æ mixup resolved: ‘peaks of Oræfa’ to ‘Orœfa’—œ elsewhere ▪ Pg. 38: Accents regularized: ‘Gljár söl á’ hlith.’ to ‘Gljár sól á hlíth’ ▪ Pg. 51: Corrected typo: ‘ommitted’ to ‘omitted’ ▪ Pg. 61: Corrected typo: ‘Titantic’ to ‘Titanic’ ▪ Pg. 69: Spelling variants harmonized: ‘Shaptaryökull’ to ‘Shaptarjökull’—j elsewhere ▪ Pg. 70: Corrected typo: ‘occurences’ to ‘occurrences’ ▪ Pg. 70: Corrected typo: ‘Shakspeare’ to ‘Shakespeare’—Shakespeare elsewhere ▪ Pg. 73: Corrected typo: ‘distitch’ to ‘distich’ ▪ Pg. 81: Missing period added: ‘... in diameter’ to ‘... in diameter.’ ▪ Pg. 88: Comma moved: ‘skonrug, (rusk)’ to ‘skonrug (rusk),’—Changed in accordance with other items in list ▪ Pg. 90: Corrected typo: ‘divides the Alanannagja’ to ‘Almannagja’ ▪ Pg. 94: Corrected typo: ‘Estaydalr, and Laugerdal’ to ‘Efstaydalr’ ▪ Pg. 97: Added comma: ‘While we are refreshing ourselves the youth’ to ‘refreshing ourselves, the youth’ ▪ Pg. 104: Added diacritic: ‘... sardines a l’huille’ to ‘à l’huille’ ▪ Pg. 110: Removed period: ‘Mr. Jonasarsson tells me’ to ‘Mr’—Without period elsewhere ▪ Pg. 110: Removed period: ‘... in the belief by Mr. Jonasarsson’ to ‘Mr’—Without period elsewhere ▪ Pg. 112: Changed double quote to single: ‘the “Squabus Borealis.’ ’ to ‘the ‘Squabus Borealis.’ ’ ▪ Pg. 121: Corrected typo: ‘... the patriot to those untiring efforts’ to ‘to whose’