Letters From High Latitudes By Lord Dufferin















































































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But to return to the Foam. After passing the cape, away
we went across the spacious Brieda Fiord, at the - Page 125
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But To Return To The "Foam." After Passing The Cape, Away We Went Across The Spacious Brieda Fiord, At The

Rate of nine or ten knots an hour, reeling and bounding at the heels of the steamer, which seemed scarcely

To feel how uneven was the surface across which we were speeding. Down dropped Snaefell beneath the sea, and dim before us, clad in evening haze, rose the shadowy steeps of Bardestrand. The north-west division of Iceland consists of one huge peninsula, spread out upon the sea like a human hand, the fingers just reaching over the Arctic circle; while up between them run the gloomy fiords, sometimes to the length of twenty, thirty, and even forty miles. Anything more grand and mysterious than the appearance of their solemn portals, as we passed across from bluff to bluff, it is impossible to conceive. Each might have served as a separate entrance to some poet's hell - so drear and fatal seemed the vista one's eye just caught receding between the endless ranks of precipice and pyramid.

There is something, moreover, particularly mystical in the effect of the grey, dreamy atmosphere of an arctic night, through whose uncertain medium mountain and headland loom as impalpable as the frontiers of a demon world, and as I kept gazing at the glimmering peaks, and monstrous crags, and shattered stratifications, heaped up along the coast in cyclopean disorder, I understood how natural it was that the Scandinavian mythology, of whose mysteries the Icelanders were ever the natural guardians and interpreters, should have assumed that broad, massive simplicity which is its most beautiful characteristic. Amid the rugged features of such a country the refinements of Paganism would have been dwarfed into insignificance. How out of place would seem a Jove with his beard in ringlets - a trim Apollo - a sleek Bacchus - an ambrosial Venus - a slim Diana, and all their attendant groups of Oreads and Cupids - amid the ocean mists, and icebound torrents, the flame-scarred mountains, and four months' night - of a land which the opposing forces of heat and cold have selected for a battle-field!

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