EN ROUTE AND THE FAROE ISLANDS. 35 mails. Into the bay runs a spit of rock, covered with dark-brown wooden warehouses, stocked with fish, behind which lies the queerest heap of a town imaginable. Like Bowness on Windermere, its houses have just been pitched down anywhere, and you climb up its narrow and tortuous streets, twisting and wriggling to right and to left, till the open hill-side is gained. Of the three F’s of the Faroes—the fish, and the fowl, and the flesh — the first strikes one at Thorshavn everywhere. The rocks by the water are covered with split-open cod, which are salted and sun-dried by turns. Here comes a procession of women, each pair with a litter between them, on which lies a heap of the crisp, white, finished fish. They are taking them down to the boats for export. Round the post-office door stands a group of girls, waiting for letters, chattering and laughing the while ; some seem to be hard-worn already like the women below, but several are really good-looking. They have shawls round their shoulders, and over their heads a handkerchief folded, or nothing at all. The houses are far better than the general appearance of the town would lead one to expect. Built of timber from Norway, on substan- tial foundations of stone; painted black, brown, or red, with the window-frames picked out in white, and crowned by a roof of grass sods, they often look cosy and clean. The windows are frequently cur- tained and filled with a bank of flowers. A little stream flows into the harbour, and a reach of it, just above the town, is plainly the laundry of Thorshavn. By its side runs a species of roadway, and here and there are some houses built in line, with flower and potato patches in front. To the right is the Governor’s house, a substantial stone building, and to the left the courthouse. On the gateposts of one of the houses I noticed a bill announcing a meeting, with a line or two about ‘Jesu Christ.’ While I was looking, there came up a man. ‘Would you like to go in?’ ‘ By all means, if I may.’ So we entered, and found there a Scotch- man, who, as well as the native who spoke to me first, was kindness itself. He is acting, it seems, as missionary here in connection with the Plymouth Brethren. He had married a Faroese wife, and his interest in the islanders A House in Thorshavn. D 2

(1) Front Board
(2) Front Board
(3) Front Flyleaf
(4) Front Flyleaf
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(189) Rear Flyleaf
(190) Rear Flyleaf
(191) Rear Board
(192) Rear Board
(193) Spine
(194) Fore Edge
(195) Scale
(196) Color Palette