148 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
unless lie acceded to tlieir demands, they threatened 
to report him when I returned ! The Doctor’s sanctuary 
was thrown open, and all its sweets—if such they may 
be called—were rifled. A huge box of pills, the first 
that came to hand—they happened to be calomel—was 
served out, share and share alike, with concomitant 
vials of wrath, of rhubarb and senna; and it was not 
until the last drop of castor oil had been carefully 
licked up, that the marauders suffered their unwilling 
accomplice to retire to the fastnesses of his pantry. 
An avenging Nemesis, however, hovered over the 
violated shrine of Esculapius. By the time I returned 
the exigencies of justice had been more than satisfied, 
and the outrage already atoned for. The rebellious 
hands were become most penitent stomachs; and fresh 
from the Oriental associations suggested by our last 
day’s ride, I involuntarily dismissed the disconsolate 
culprits, with the Asiatic form of condonation: “ Ma- 
shallah, you have made your faces white! Go in 
peace!” 
During our expedition to the interior, the harbour 
of Reykjavik had become populous with new arrivals. 
First of all, there was my old friend, the “ Beine 
