its head as if
warning me to go back. I was badly frightened, and turned my horse
around and went back. Then I heard that my best friend was dying. When
he was dead I married his wife. She's a very good woman, sir, and, if
you please, I'll get her to make you some coffee when we get back to
Reykjavik."

So goes the world, thought I, from the Skjaldbraid Jokul to a cup of
coffee! Why bother our heads about these troublesome questions, which
can only result in proving us all equally ignorant. The wisest has
learned nothing save his own ignorance. He "meets with darkness in the
daytime, and gropes in the noonday as in the night."

CHAPTER XLVIII.

THINGVALLA.

The extensive valley called Thingvalla, or the Valley of the "Thing,"
lies at the head of a lake of the same name, some fifteen miles in
length by six or seven in width. The waters of this lake are
beautifully clear, and the scenery around it is of the wildest and
most picturesque character. Rugged mountains rise from its shores in
various directions, and islands reflect their varied outlines in its
glassy surface. Cranes, wild ducks, plovers, and occasionally swans,
abound in the lagoons that open into it from Thingvalla. The bed of
this fine sheet of water corresponds in its configuration with the
surrounding country. It is of volcanic formation throughout, and the
rifts and fissures in the lava can be traced as far as it is
practicable to see through the water.

On passing out of the Almannajau near the lower fall, where the river
breaks out into the main valley, the view toward the lake is extensive
and imposing. Along the course of the river is a succession of
beautiful little green flats, upon which the horses and cattle of the
good pastor graze; and farther down, on the left, lies the church and
farm-house. Still beyond are vast plains of lava, gradually merging
into the waters of the lake; and in the far distance mountain upon
mountain, till the view is lost in the snowy Jokuls of the far
interior.

Descending into this valley we soon crossed the river, which is
fordable at this season, and in a few minutes entered a lane between
the low stone walls that surround the station.

[Illustration: CHURCH AT THINGVALLA.]

The church is of modern construction, and, like all I saw in the
interior, is made of wood, painted a dark color, and roofed with
boards covered with sheets of tarred canvas. It is a very primitive
little affair, only one sto