VII.] A PICNIC. 55 



you can still follow the pattern traced on the surface of the 

 bottom, by cracks and chasms similar to those into which 

 the dry portion of Thingvalla has been shivered. 



The accompanying ground plan will, I trust, complete what 

 is wanting to fill up the picture I so long to conjure up 

 before the mind's eye. It is the last card I have to play, 

 and, if unsuccessful, I must give up the task in despair. 



But to return to where I left myself, on the edge of the 

 cliff, gazing down with astonished eyes over the panorama 

 of land and water embedded at my feet. I could scarcely 

 speak for pleasure and surprise; Fitz was equally taken aback, 

 and as for Wilson, he looked as if he thought we had arrived 

 at the end of the world. After having allowed us sufficient 

 time to admire the prospect Sigurdr turned to the left, along 

 the edge of the precipice, until we reached a narrow pathway 

 accidentally formed down a longitudinal niche in the splin- 

 tered face of the cliff, which led across the bottom, and up 

 the opposite side of the Gja, into the plain of Thingvalla. 

 By rights our tents ought to have arrived before us, but when 

 we reached the little glebe where we expected to find them 

 pitched, no signs of servants, guides, or horses were to be seen. 



As we had not overtaken them ourselves, their non-appear- 

 ance was inexplicable. Wilson suggested that, the cook 

 having died on the road, the rest of the party must have 

 turned aside to bury him ; and that we had passed unper- 

 ceived during the interesting ceremony. Be the cause what 

 it might, the result was not agreeable. We were very tired, 

 very hungry, and it had just begun to rain. 



It is true there was a clergyman's house and a church, 

 both built of stones covered with turf sods, close by ; at the 

 one, perhaps, we could get milk, and "in the other we could 

 sleep, as our betters — including Madame Pfeiffer — had done 

 before us ; but its inside looked so dark, and damp, and cold, 

 and charnel-like, that one really doubted whether lying in the 

 churchyard would not be snugger. You may guess, then, 

 how great was my relief when our belated baggage-train was 

 descried against the sky-line, as it slowly wended its way 



