bitants had
known for years. During the month of June the thermometer often rose at
noon to twenty degrees. The inhabitants found this heat so
insupportable, that they complained of being unable to work or to go on
messages during the day-time. On such warm days they would only begin
their hay-making in the evening, and continued their work half the night.

The changes in the weather are very remarkable. Twenty degrees of heat
on one day would be followed by rain on the next, with a temperature of
only five degrees; and on the 5th of June, at eight o'clock in the
morning, the thermometer stood at one degree below zero. It is also
curious that thunderstorms happen in Iceland in winter, and are said
never to occur during the summer.

From the 16th or 18th of June to the end of the month there is no night.
The sun appears only to retire for a short time behind a mountain, and
forms sunset and morning-dawn at the same time. As on one side the last
beam fades away, the orb of day re-appears at the opposite one with
redoubled splendour.

During my stay in Iceland, from the 15th of May to the 29th of July, I
never retired to rest before eleven o'clock at night, and never required
a candle. In May, and also in the latter portion of the month of July,
there was twilight for an hour or two, but it never became quite dark.
Even during the last days of my stay, I could read until half-past ten
o'clock. At first it appeared strange to me to go to bed in broad
daylight; but I soon accustomed myself to it, and when eleven o'clock
came, no sunlight was powerful enough to cheat me of my sleep. I found
much pleasure in walking at night, at past ten o'clock, not in the pale
moonshine, but in the broad blaze of the sun.

It was a much more difficult task to accustom myself to the diet. The
baker's wife was fully competent to superintend the cooking according to
the Danish and Icelandic schools of the art; but unfortunately these
modes of cookery differ widely from ours. One thing only was good, the
morning cup of coffee with cream, with which the most accomplished
gourmand could have found no fault: since my departure from Iceland I
have not found such coffee. I could have wished for some of my dear
Viennese friends to breakfast with me. The cream was so thick, that I at
first thought my hostess had misunderstood me, and brought me curds. The
butter made from the milk of Icelandic cows and ewes did not look very
inviting,