stranger the hospitality of his hut; and it is a creed
among these worthy people not to accept pay for coffee and bread, or
indeed any thing else they may have to offer in the way of
entertainment. My fellow-passengers were similarly treated in
Thorshavn, where visitors are more frequent and the customs of the
country less primitive.

[Illustration: KIRK GOBOE.]

The great object of interest at Kirk Goboe is the ancient church, from
which the place derives its name; a long, low stone building,
whitewashed and covered with a sod roof, but, owing to repeated
repairs, now presenting no particular traces of antiquity, although
reported to have been built in the eighth century. I have no data in
reference to this interesting relic, and am not aware that
antiquarians have ever attempted to trace out its origin. The
probability is that it was built by some of those Culdee anchorites of
whom Dasent speaks as the first settlers of Iceland.

The interior of the church contains an altar, and some wooden carvings
on the head-boards of the pews, evidently of great antiquity. It is
impossible to conjecture from their appearance whether they are five
hundred or a thousand years old--at least without more research than a
casual tourist can bestow upon them.

There is also within a few steps of the farm-house a much larger and
more picturesque ruin of a church, built in a later style of
architecture. The only information I could get about this ruin was
that it dates back as far as the fifteenth century. The walls are of
rough stone well put together, and now stand roofless and
moss-covered, inhabited only by crows and swallows. The doors and
windows are in the Gothic style. A sketch made from the door of the
old church first mentioned, embracing the residence of the Petersen
family, with a glimpse of the cliffs and rugged ledges behind upon
which their flocks graze, will give the best idea of the whole
premises.

[Illustration: FARM-HOUSE AND RUINS.]

Having thus pleasantly occupied a few hours at Kirk Goboe, I bade
adieu to the worthy family who had so hospitably entertained me, and
was about to set out for Thorshavn, when young Petersen, not content
with the directions he had given me, announced his intention of seeing
me safe over the mountain. In vain I assured him that, however
pleasant his company would be, I had no apprehension of losing the way
this time. Go he would, and go he did; and when we parted on the top
of