CHAPTER XIII.

HOSPITALITY UNDER THE ARCTIC CIRCLE

It ought to have been night-time, but under the 65th parallel there
was nothing surprising in the nocturnal polar light. In Iceland
during the months of June and July the sun does not set.

But the temperature was much lower. I was cold and more hungry than
cold. Welcome was the sight of the boer which was hospitably opened
to receive us.

It was a peasant's house, but in point of hospitality it was equal to
a king's. On our arrival the master came with outstretched hands, and
without more ceremony he beckoned us to follow him.

To accompany him down the long, narrow, dark passage, would have been
impossible. Therefore, we followed, as he bid us. The building was
constructed of roughly squared timbers, with rooms on both sides,
four in number, all opening out into the one passage: these were the
kitchen, the weaving shop, the badstofa, or family sleeping-room, and
the visitors' room, which was the best of all. My uncle, whose height
had not been thought of in building the house, of course hit his head
several times against the beams that projected from the ceilings.

We were introduced into our apartment, a large room with a floor of
earth stamped hard down, and lighted by a window, the panes of which
were formed of sheep's bladder, not admitting too much light. The