THE PEOPLE. 47 



mot a few of those wild, fanciful German legends which 

 we value so much, are but translations of Icelandic tales ; 

 and we know that histories and poems were written in 

 Iceland long before we, in Great Britian, had emerged 

 from barbarism. 



Much of the domestic history of Iceland is an account 

 of contests waged with physical evils ; and when we thus 

 see men successfully contending with storm and pestilence, 

 with volcanos and earthquakes, with long seasons of 

 darkness, with enow and ice, with a land " whose 

 stones are iron, and whose hills are brass," almost cut 

 off from intercourse with other nations, and having 

 but few natural resources on which to fall back, we 

 cannot but award them our highest admiration and 

 respect. 



Their love of country is proverbial, notwithstanding 

 " the small mercies " for which they have to be thankful. 

 So true is it that 



* The shuddering tenant of the Frigid Zone 

 Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own, 

 Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, 

 And his long nights of revelry and ease ; 

 So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, 

 But bind him to his native mountains more." 



The discomfort of a residence in Iceland is much en- 

 hanced by the want of fuel. The springs of hot water 

 would be most providential institutions in such a land 

 if the inhabitants turned them to economic uses. There 

 are no trees, unless the pigmy willows and birch, some 



