96 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
. seen the three hummocks, where sat in state the 
chiefs and judges of the land. 
But those grand old times have long since passed 
away. Along the hanks of the Oxeraa no longer glisten 
the tents and booths of the assembled lieges; no longer 
stalwart berserks guard the narrow entrance to the 
Althing; ravens alone sit on the sacred Logberg; and 
the floor of the old Icelandic House of Commons is 
r\ ■ 
ignominiously cropped by the sheep of the parson. 
For three hundred years did the gallant little Republic 
maintain its independence—three hundred years of 
unequalled literary and political vigour. At last its 
day of doom drew near. . Like the Scotch nobles in the 
time of Elizabeth, their own chieftains intrigued against 
the liberties of the Icelandic people; and in 1261 the 
island became an appanage of the Norwegian crown. 
Yet even then the deed embodying the concession of 
their independence was drawn up in such haughty terms 
as to resemble rather the offer of an equal alliance than 
the renunciation of imperial rights. Soon, however, 
the apathy which invariably benumbs the faculties of 
a people too entirely relieved from the discipline and 
obligation of self-government, lapped in complete in- 
