the wind, made a
noise so deafening that she was glad to quit the scene, and feel a safer
soil beneath her feet. It seemed to her excited fancy as if the entire
mountain were converted into a boiling caldron.

Descending into the plain, she found there much to interest her. Here a
basin was filled with boiling mud; there, from another basin, burst forth
a column of steam with fearful violence. Several hot springs bubbled and
bubbled around. "These spots," says our traveller, "were far more
dangerous than any on the hills; in spite of the utmost caution, we often
sank in above our ankles, and drew back our feet in dread, covered with
the damp exhalations, which, with steam or boiling water, also escaped
from the opening. I allowed my guide to feel his way in front of me with
a stick; but, notwithstanding his precaution, he went through in one
place half-way to his knee--though he was so used to the danger that he
treated it very lightly, and stopped quite phlegmatically at the next
spring to cleanse himself from the mud. Being also covered with it to
the ankles, I followed his example."

* * * * *

We must now accompany our traveller on some longer excursions.

And first, to Thingvalla, the place where, of old, the Althing or island-
parliament was annually held. One side of the great valley of council is
bounded by the sea, the other by a fine range of peaks, always more or
less covered with snow. Through the pass of the Almannagja we descend
upon the Thingvallavatn lake, an expanse of placid blue, about thirty
miles in circuit. While our attention is rivetted on the lake and the
dark brown hills which encircle it, a chasm suddenly, and as if by
enchantment, opens at our feet, separating us from the valleys beyond. It
varies from thirty to forty feet in width, is several hundred feet in
depth, and four miles in length.

"We were compelled," says Madame Pfeiffer, "to descend its steep and
dangerous sides by a narrow path leading over fragments of lava. My
uneasiness increased as we went down, and could see the colossal masses,
in the shape of pillars or columns tottering loosely on the brink of the
precipice above our heads, threatening death and desolation at any
moment. Mute and anxious, we crept along in breathless haste, scarcely
venturing to raise our eyes, much less to give vent to the least
expression of alarm, for fear of starting the avalanche of stone, of the
impetuous force of which we could f