its ancient runes, eddas, and saga lore, should be the pride of every Englishman How fitting that the child and grandchild should listen to the words of wisdom that in times past have fallen from the lips of their mother and grandmother.” Such was the country we had long wished to visit, and at last the welcome telegram arrived, “Iceland steamer sails to-night,” and, soon after, we were speeding North as quick as Scotch Ex- press could take us. Night had given place to day when we arrived at Edinburgh, the capital of a country, according to Macaulay, “ having been one of the most turbulent countries in Europe, has become one of the most highly civilized, one of the most flourishing, one of the most tranquil,” and, according to Froude, “has scored a deeper mark upon the world’s history than any nation either ancient or modern, perhaps the Athenians and Jews excepted.” But historic thoughts vanish as we meander in a cab two long hours up and down the Forth side looking for the vessel that is to be our home “ on the ocean wave ” for th6 next two or three weeks. At Gran ton we find it, the “ Laura,” a mail steamer of some 700 tons, com- manded by Captain Christiansen, a kindly Dane, and manned with a crew of like nationality. Amongst our passengers were Icelandic and Danish ladies, with five professional Englishmen, going out like myself to refresh their souls and bodies by “wholesome struggles with the in- vigorating hardships of Icelandic travel ” ? There were also several passengers in the second cabin— students returning home from their studies in Danish and. German universities. Punctually, the last hawser was cast off, and it was strange to think that till our return we should hear no post- man’s knock, receive no letters with good or evil tidings, and see no later newspapers than those we take with us. Friends may be well or ill, and the stirring events of the unfinished Elections leave us to speculate on the changes that may occur. We steamed past Leith, Portobello, and the cultivated slopes and quiet little coast towns of the kingdom of Fife, seeing in the distance the shadowy form of the famous Bass rock, whose name is associated with some of the grimmest tragedies of history. We made steady progress at the rate of about 11 knots per hour, under a bright blue sky, and on a sea so perfect we all agreed it

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