nce. The peaks
of the mountains shine in the bright parting rays, the jokuls are
shrouded in the most delicate roseate hue, while the lower parts of the
mountains lie in deep shadow, and frown darkly on the valleys, which
resemble a sheet of dark blue water, with an atmosphere of a bluish-red
colour floating above it. The most impressive feature of all is the
profound silence and solitude; not a sound can be heard, not a living
creature is to be seen; every thing appears dead. Throughout the broad
valleys not a town nor a village, no, not even a solitary house or a tree
or shrub, varies the prospect. The eye wanders over the vast desert, and
finds not one familiar object on which it can rest.

To-night, as at past eleven o'clock we reached the elevated plain, I saw
a sunset which I shall never forget. The sun disappeared behind the
mountains, and in its stead a gorgeous ruddy gleam lighted up hill and
valley and glacier. It was long ere I could turn away my eyes from the
glittering heights, and yet the valley also offered much that was
striking and beautiful.

Throughout almost its entire length this valley formed a meadow, from the
extremities of which columns of smoke and boiling springs burst forth.
The mists had almost evaporated, and the atmosphere was bright and clear,
more transparent even than I had seen it in any other country. I now for
the first time noticed, that in the valley itself the radiance was almost
as clear as the light of day, so that the most minute objects could be
plainly distinguished. This was, however, extremely necessary, for steep
and dangerous paths lead over masses of lava into the valley. On one
side ran a little river, forming many picturesque waterfalls, some of
them above thirty feet in height.

I strained my eyes in vain to discover any where, in this great valley, a
little church, which, if it only offered me a hard bench for a couch,
would at any rate afford me a shelter from the sharp night-wind; for it
is really no joke to ride for fifteen hours, with nothing to eat but
bread and cheese, and then not even to have the pleasant prospect of a
hotel _a la villa de Londres_ or _de Paris_. Alas, my wishes were far
more modest. I expected no porter at the gate to give the signal of my
arrival, no waiter, and no chambermaid; I only desired a little spot in
the neighbourhood of the dear departed Icelanders. I was suddenly
recalled from these happy delusions by the voice of t