I was yet in hopes that there would be no means of getting to
Iceland. But there was no such luck. A small Danish schooner, the
VALKYRIA, was to set sail for Rejkiavik on the 2nd of June. The
captain, M. Bjarne, was on board. His intending passenger was so
joyful that he almost squeezed his hands till they ached. That good
man was rather surprised at his energy. To him it seemed a very
simple thing to go to Iceland, as that was his business; but to my
uncle it was sublime. The worthy captain took advantage of his
enthusiasm to charge double fares; but we did not trouble ourselves
about mere trifles. .

"You must be on board on Tuesday, at seven in the morning," said
Captain Bjarne, after having pocketed more dollars than were his due.

Then we thanked M. Thomsen for his kindness, "and we returned to the
Phoenix Hotel.

"It's all right, it's all right," my uncle repeated. "How fortunate
we are to have found this boat ready for sailing. Now let us have
some breakfast and go about the town."

We went first to Kongens-nye-Torw, an irregular square in which are
two innocent-looking guns, which need not alarm any one. Close by, at
No. 5, there was a French "restaurant," kept by a cook of the name of
Vincent, where we had an ample breakfast for four marks each (2s.
4d.).

Then I took a childish pleasure in exploring the city; my uncle let
me take him with me, but he took notice of nothing, neither the