THE PEOPLE. 4.3 



round the shoulder of a mountain, or flits tike a cloud 

 across valleys where no other living thing is seen, a 

 momentary life and animation is imparted to scenes other- 

 wise often singularly unattractive. 



Except potatoes, and a few other hardy vegetables, no 

 crops come to maturity in Iceland, and corn is never sown* 

 Truly 



"No products here the barren hills afford, 

 But man and steel the soldier and his sword.'* 



The sea is the Icelander's great storehouse. From it he 

 obtains the chief staple of his diet and the main item of 

 his export. Providence has, in the seething shoals of 

 every species of fish which frequent these seas, compen- 

 sated in a great measure for the sterility of the land. A 

 few hours, in the proper season, suffices to fill a boat with 

 magnificent fish, and the whole population, men, women, 

 and children, abjectly worship the cod, who is here undis- 

 puted king. 



Every house near the coast is redolent of cod. The 

 eaves are festooned with their bodies, the doorways are 

 straitened by them, the children cut their teeth on them, 

 and the very ponies love and eat them. Stacks 

 veritable stacks of cod, roped and thatched like peats in 

 Scotland meet you by the highways, and ships freighted 

 with them sail for the delectation of Catholic countries. 

 These Icelanders are the veritable Ichthyophagi. It ia 

 only after seeing a native develop ths hidden mysteries of 

 a cod's head that you become aware of how much 



