town of that name on the banks of the Hvalfiord, four miles from
Rejkiavik. I showed it to my uncle.

"Four miles only!" he exclaimed; "four miles out of twenty-eight.
What a nice little walk!"

He was about to make an observation to the guide, who without
answering resumed his place at the head, and went on his way.

Three hours later, still treading on the colourless grass of the
pasture land, we had to work round the Kolla fiord, a longer way but
an easier one than across that inlet. We soon entered into a
'pingstaoer' or parish called Ejulberg, from whose steeple twelve
o'clock would have struck, if Icelandic churches were rich enough to
possess clocks. But they are like the parishioners who have no
watches and do without.

There our horses were baited; then taking the narrow path to left
between a chain of hills and the sea, they carried us to our next
stage, the aolkirkja of Brantar and one mile farther on, to Saurboer
'Annexia,' a chapel of ease built on the south shore of the Hvalfiord.

It was now four o'clock, and we had gone four Icelandic miles, or
twenty-four English miles.

In that place the fiord was at least three English miles wide; the
waves rolled with a rushing din upon the sharp-pointed rocks; this
inlet was confined between walls of rock, precipices crowned by sharp
peaks 2,000 feet high, and remarkable for the brown strata which
separated the beds of reddish tuff. However much I might respect the