fter the date of the closing
scene of our tale, there might have been seen in Iceland, at the head of
a small bay, two pretty cottages, from the doors of which there was a
magnificent view of as sweet a valley as ever filled the eye or
gladdened the heart of man, with a distant glimpse of the great ocean
beyond. On the sward before these cottages was assembled a large party
of young men and maidens, the latter of whom were conspicuous for the
sparkle of their blue eyes and the silky gloss of their fair hair, while
the former were notable because of the great size and handsome
proportions of their figures; some, however, of the men and maidens were
dark and ruddy. The youths were engaged in putting the stone and
throwing the hammer; the maidens looked on with interest--as maidens
were wont to do on manly pastimes in days of old, and as they are not
unwilling to do occasionally, even in modern times. Around these romped
a host of children of all ages, sizes, and shades.

These were the descendants of Erling the Bold and Glumm the Gruff. The
two families had, as it were, fused into one grand compound, which was
quite natural, for their natures were diverse yet sympathetic; besides,
Glumm was dark, Erling fair; and it is well known that black and white
always go hand in hand, producing that sweet-toned grey, which Nature
would seem to cherish with a love quite as powerful as the abhorrence
with which she is supposed to regard a vacuum.

Beside each other, leaning against a tree, and admiring the prowess of
the young men, stood Erling and Glumm, old, it is true, and past the
time when men delight to exercise their muscles, but straight and
stalwart, and still noble specimens of manhood. The most interesting
group, however, was to be seen seated on a rustic bench near the door.
There, sometimes conversing gravely with a silver-haired old man at his
side, or stooping with a quiet smile to caress the head of a child that
had rushed from its playmates for a little to be fondled by the "old
one"--sat Haldor the Fierce, with Christian the hermit on one side, and
Ulf of Romsdal on the other. Their heads were pure white, and their
frames somewhat bent, but health still mantled on the sunburnt cheeks,
and sparkled in the eyes of the old Norse Sea-kings.

Within the house might have been seen two exceedingly handsome matrons--
such as one may see in Norway at the present time--who called each other
Hilda and Ada, and who vied