Letters From High Latitudes By Lord Dufferin















































































 - 

I had sent on cook, baggage, and guides, some hours before
we ourselves started, so that on our arrival we - Page 98
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I Had Sent On Cook, Baggage, And Guides, Some Hours Before We Ourselves Started, So That On Our Arrival We Found A Dry, Cosy Tent, And A Warm Dinner Awaiting Us.

The rapid transformation of the aspect of the country, which I had just witnessed, made me quite understand how

Completely the success of an expedition in Iceland must depend on the weather, and fully accounted for the difference I had observed in the amount of enjoyment different travellers seemed to have derived from it. It is one thing to ride forty miles a day through the most singular scenery in the world, when a radiant sun brings out every feature of the country into startling distinctness, transmuting the dull tormented earth into towers, domes, and pinnacles of gleaming metal, - and weaves for every distant summit a robe of variegated light, such as the "Delectable Mountains" must have worn for the rapt gaze of weary "Christian;" - and another to plod over the same forty miles, drenched to the skin, seeing nothing but the dim, grey roots of hills, that rise you know not how, and you care not where, - with no better employment than to look at your watch, and wonder when you shall reach your journey's end. If, in addition to this, you have to wait, as very often must be the case, for many hours after your own arrival, wet, tired, hungry, until the baggage-train, with the tents and food, shall have come up, with no alternative in the meantime but to lie shivering inside a grass-roofed church, or to share the quarters of some farmer's family, whose domestic arrangements resemble in every particular those which Macaulay describes as prevailing among the Scottish Highlanders a hundred years ago; and, if finally - after vainly waiting for some days to see an eruption which never takes place - you journey back to Reykjavik under the same melancholy conditions, - it will not be unnatural that, on returning to your native land, you should proclaim Iceland, with her Geysirs, to be a sham, a delusion, and a snare!

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