re no passport bureaus, no
meddlesome police, no conceited and disagreeable habitues of public
places with fierce dogs running at their heels, no _Verbotener Wegs_
staring one in the face at every turn. Here all ways possible to be
traveled were open to the public; here was plenty of fresh air and no
lack of elbow-room; here an unsophisticated American could travel
without being persecuted every ten minutes by applications from
distinguished officers in livery for six kreutzers; here an honest
Californian could chew tobacco when he felt disposed, and relieve his
mind by an occasional oath when he considered it essential to a
vigorous expression of his thoughts.

It seemed very strange to be traveling in Iceland, actually plodding
my way over deserts of lava, and breathing blasts of air fresh from
the summit of Mount Hecla! I was at last in the land of the Sagas--the
land of fire, and brimstone, and boiling fountains!--the land which,
as a child, I had been accustomed to look upon as the _ultima Thule_,
where men, and fish, and fire, and water were pitted against each
other in everlasting strife. How often had the fascinating vision of
Icelandic travel crossed my mind; and how often had I dismissed it
with a sigh as too much happiness to hope for in this world! And now
it was all realized. Was I any the happier? Was it what I expected?
Well, we won't probe these questions too far. It was a very strange
reality, at all events.

For the first eight miles the weather was thick and rainy; after that
the sun began to dissipate the gloom, and we had a very pleasant
journey. Though a little chilly in consequence of the moisture, the
air was not really cold. As well as I could judge, the thermometer
ranged about 54 deg. Fahrenheit. It frequently rises to 76 deg. at
Thingvalla during the months of July and August; and at the Geysers,
and in some of the adjacent valleys, the heat is said to be quite
oppressive.

[Illustration: A ROUGH ROAD.]

Notwithstanding the roughness of the trail, which in many places
passed for miles over rugged fields of lava, full of sharp, jagged
points and dangerous fissures, we traveled with considerable speed,
seldom slackening from a lope. Zoega untied the horses from each
other's tails soon after passing the road to Hafuarfiord, as there was
no farther danger of their separating, and then, with many flourishes
of his whip and strange cries, well understood by our animals, led the
way. I must