before quitting the deck of the schooner he dragged me forward, and
pointing with outstretched finger north of the bay at a distant
mountain terminating in a double peak, a pair of cones covered with
perpetual snow, he cried:

"Snaefell! Snaefell!"

Then recommending me, by an impressive gesture, to keep silence, he
went into the boat which awaited him. I followed, and presently we
were treading the soil of Iceland.

The first man we saw was a good-looking fellow enough, in a general's
uniform. Yet he was not a general but a magistrate, the Governor of
the island, M. le Baron Trampe himself. The Professor was soon aware
of the presence he was in. He delivered him his letters from
Copenhagen, and then followed a short conversation in the Danish
language, the purport of which I was quite ignorant of, and for a
very good reason. But the result of this first conversation was, that
Baron Trampe placed himself entirely at the service of Professor
Liedenbrock.

My uncle was just as courteously received by the mayor, M. Finsen,
whose appearance was as military, and disposition and office as
pacific, as the Governor's.

As for the bishop's suffragan, M. Picturssen, he was at that moment
engaged on an episcopal visitation in the north. For the time we must
be resigned to wait for the honour of being presented to him. But M.
Fridrikssen, professor of natural sciences at the school of
Rejkiavik, was a delightful man, and his friendship became very