f the most distinguished men connected with Icelandic science and
literature."

"As you say, sir--"

"A man illustrious above all."

"Yes, sir, all this is true, but his works?"

"We have none of them."

"Not in Iceland?"

"There are none in Iceland or elsewhere," answered the other, sadly.

"Why so?"

"Because Arne Saknussemm was persecuted for heresy, and in 1573 his
works were publicly burnt at Copenhagen, by the hands of the common
hangman."

"Very good! capital!" murmured my uncle, to the great astonishment of
the worthy Icelander.

"You said, sir--"

"Yes, yes, all is clear, I see the link in the chain; everything is
explained, and I now understand why Arne Saknussemm, put out of court,
forced to hide his magnificent discoveries, was compelled to conceal
beneath the veil of an incomprehensible cryptograph, the secret--"

"What secret?"

"A secret--which," stammered my uncle.

"Have you discovered some wonderful manuscript?" cried M. Fridriksson.

"No! no, I was carried away by my enthusiasm. A mere supposition."

"Very good, sir. But, really, to turn to another subject, I hope you
will not leave our island without examining into its mineralogical
riches."

"Well, the fact is, I am rather late. So many learned men have been here
before me."

"Yes, yes, but there is still much to be done," cried M. Fridriksson.

"You think so," said my uncle, his eyes twinkling with hidden
satisfaction.

"Yes, you have no idea how many unknown mountains, glaciers, volcanoes
there are which remain to be studied. Without moving from where we sit,
I can show you one. Yonder on the edge of the horizon, you see
Sneffels."

"Oh yes, Sneffels," said my uncle.

"One of the most curious volcanoes in existence, the crater of which has
been rarely visited."

"Extinct?"

"Extinct, any time these five hundred years," was the ready reply.

"Well," said my uncle, who dug his nails into his flesh, and pressed his
knees tightly together to prevent himself leaping up with joy. "I have a
great mind to begin my studies with an examination of the geological
mysteries of this Mount Seffel--Feisel--what do you call it?"

"Sneffels, my dear sir."

This portion of the conversation took place in Latin, and I therefore
understood all that had been said. I could scarcely keep my countenance
when I found my uncle so cunningly concealing his delight and
satisfaction. I must confess that his artful grimaces, put on to conceal