rise in some places to the height of 3000 feet. The town is situated at the south end of the Eyjafjörð (island firth), taking its name from the little island of Hrísey which lies in its mouth. The trade of this small place does not equal that of its sister settlement, owing, perhaps, to the numerous stores situated in various fjords in the north of Iceland, whereas Reykjavík and Eyrarbakki command the trade of the greater part of the south, in consequence of the iron-bound nature of its coast. Arkeyri is composed of two streets of wooden framehouses, one of which runs so close to the sea shore as to be occasionally flooded, and it has a renown of its own, from the largest trees in the whole island growing there. These however, are merely two or three mountain-ash trees, about 25 to 30 feet in height, flourishing in front of a house facing the fjord, belonging to one of the principal store keepers!

The luxuriance of their growth is the more remarkable, as all the attempts which have hitherto been made to grow trees in Reykjavík have failed, although its mean temperature is much higher than that of Akreyri. The explanation of this probably is that Akreyri is one of the most sheltered spots in the island, while Reykjavík is exposed to the full fury of the east and west winds.

A short distance to the north of the town we found a cluster of black sheds, the filthy smell from which informed us at once of the odoriferous business carried on there, which was at full swing. I had often smelt from afar this same disgusting effluvium, and found it to arise from the profitable but revolting work of extracting oil from sharks' livers. Accompanied by Paul, I determined to inspect this manufacture, so, passing through an avenue of vats full of sharks' putrid livers, reeking and sweltering in the sun, we thrust our pocket-handkerchiefs into our mouths and plunged into the boiling-house. Here about half-a-dozen cauldrons of sharks' livers were simmering, and slowly "frying out" the filthy but valuable shark-oil, exhaling the foulest stench imaginable. Three grimy oleaginous men and a boy, who seemed to thrive amid their abominable surroundings, were engaged in stoking the fires, stirring up the stewing livers and baling out the oil, as it accumulated, into a long trough, which discharged itself into a large iron tank outside, whence it was drawn off again into barrels ready for shipment to the various parts of the world where there is a demand for such a very unpleasant lubricator. The men seemed quite surprised that we found anything disagreeable in the smell of the oil, and seemed quite to enjoy giving the cauldrons

an extra stir on our account, which was a pleasure we could have dispensed with.

In the evening we paid a visit to the apothecary, whose house seemed to be the rendezvous of all the captains whose ships were lying in the harbour, and there we arranged to depart the next day.

Here I may as well observe there are two ways from the north to the south of Iceland, the shortest being, however, the most difficult road, which lies across the Sprengisandr, and the longest, but easiest, across the Stórisandr. Mr. Locke, with Herra Guðmundson and his sister, had resolved to go by the Stórisandr to Reykjavík, and I wished to go by the Sprengisandr to the east, so that I might visit the Skaptar Jökull. Although I intended to have left early, it was night before we got away from Akreyri, for leave-taking always occupies an indefinite time in inverse proportion to the size of the place. Re-crossing Vaðlaheiði, we reached Ljósavatı (where I had left my baggage and baggage-horses) with the daylight, from whence we proceeded along the Skjálfandifljót to Stóruvellir. The river Skjálfandifljót runs down a broad fertile valley shut in by hills of basalt, which rise in some places as much as 1300 feet above the level of the river. From thence a broad stretch of grass-land, extending some 25 miles long, brought us to Stóru.

L

vellir, a flourishing farm surrounded by grass-lands. The people, we found, were all busy hay-making; so I ascended the hills behind the farm to look at the surrounding country, but before I could reach the summit it had clouded over, and I could see but a very short distance. Early next morning a man brought word that a fresh eruption had broken out in the Mývatns Öræfi. This was news indeed, and as it was Sunday, when some of the more distant population would be assembled at the neighbouring church, I despatched Paul to ascertain from them the accuracy of the news. In the meanwhile, however, accompanied by the farmer's son, I ascended the hills to reconnoitre, and when about half-way up I espied a tall dense column of white smoke in the east, which announced the correctness of the intelligence we had received. On arriving at the summit I looked again, and then perceived six smaller columns in a line with the larger one, rising to about half its height. These columns of smoke had evidently originated in the Mývatns Örœfí, and rose in perpendicular columns, which spread out at the apex like phantoms of giant palm trees in the calm atmosphere of that early autumn Sabbath morning! The position I occupied commanded a magnificent view of the Dyngjufjöll mountains and the Kverkfjöll, both of which volcanoes lie south of the

Mývatns Öræfí; neither of these, however, seemed to be particularly disturbed, but the mushroomshaped cloud of smoke which had been there all the summer still hovered over the Dýngjufjöll. There appeared, however, no increase in the three thin columns of vapour I had before observed rising from the Kverkfjöll. Looking in another direction I found the country to the east obscured by what seemed to be a fog, which was, probably, vapour and ashes from the fresh eruption drifting slowly towards the Vatna Jökull. Presently the large volume of smoke from the Mývatns Orofi disappeared, leaving in its place a cloud of thin black vapour, but before many seconds had elapsed it again sprang up in three distinct bursts to more than its former height. Hastily descending, I ordered the horses to be saddled, and at once we rode away at full gallop towards the seat of the new eruption.

By evening we reached the farm of Grænavatn, where I had the pleasure of again seeing Thorlákur and his brother-in-law, and I forthwith made preparations for visiting the point of volcanic activity the following morning, but my plans were frustrated by a violent storm of rain, wind, and snow, which made it a matter of impossibility to cross the hills; so, chafing at the delay, I was compelled to postpone my expedition. During the previous night a man,