ROUTE II.--THROUGH ‘THE NJAL COUNTRY.’ 117 creating a group of largish islands, the Wtlandeyjar, the chief of which are hounded on the south by the sea. The easternmost channel retains the name of the parent river, hut the centralmost is called Alar (Reins), and the westernmost Ajfall. These islands and the vicinity, besides being the scene of many of the events recorded in the Njal Saga, are rich in historical interest, for it was here some of the most famous chiefs and others dwelt in the early days of the Norse settlement. The people at BreP&abdlstafovr are very obliging. If one’s guide has not accompanied a party through the Njal country before, it will be necessary to take a man from here on the morrow. Ninth Day.—To Hl'i’&arendi, ‘ where the peerless Gunnar dwelt, and fighting, fell; ’ and thence push on to Barkarstar&ir or Fljdtsdalr, two farms south of the Tindfjalla Jolcull, to pass the night. The quarters are rather rough, but with the ‘ Garnet Wolseley,’ or the box bed described in the chapter on Outfit, the travellers will pass the night pretty comfortably. HlKarendi is about two hours’ ride from Brei^abdlstaAiir, and the same distance from the farms where it is recommended to seek night quarters ; several streams will have to be forded en route. Gunnar’s home stood upon the southern slope of a range of low green hills, a short distance north of the pvera. It is said that the foundation walls of the old hall are still traceable; but the farm buildings now standing on the site are mere hovels; for the farm is now a very poor one, but a miserable remnant of the fertile level grass land, which made the spot so dear in Gunnar’s eyes, now remaining. In his day ITlr&arendi was surrounded with rich pastures, and corn-fields were not unknown, where we now find a wilderness ‘ howling in desolation ’; while the fells were clad with forest. The whole face of the country in the eight and a half centuries that have elapsed since his time has completely changed; volcanic eruption after eruption has converted the rich grass meads into cindery wastes; while flood after flood of water from the glaciers has eaten away mile after mile of the plain, and torn it asunder to seek the sea by many outlets. Waller thus beautifully expresses the impression made upon his mind by a visit to ‘ these haunts of old romance ’: ‘ This wilderness was of all places in the world the most touching to me. It really seemed as if the beauty of the spot had cared to exist no longer since the hero was dead, and had let the elements work their destruction upon the scene, to obliterate it utterly, and to leave, like its master, but a memory behind.’ He further says : ‘ We then pushed up the hill for some

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