This May Be
The Case; But I Should Suppose That Any One Who Rode Upon An
Icelandic Horse, With An Icelandic Side-Saddle, Every Day For The
Space Of Four Weeks, Would Find, At The Expiration Of That Time, Her
Liver Shaken To A Pulp, And No Part Of It Remaining.
All the rest of the party had good English saddles, mine alone was
of Icelandic origin.
It consisted of a chair, with a board for the
back. The rider was obliged to sit crooked upon the horse, and it
was impossible to keep a firm seat. With much difficulty I trotted
after the others, for my horse would not be induced to break into a
gallop.
At length, after a ride of an hour and a half, we reached a valley.
In the midst of a tolerably green meadow I descried what was, for
Iceland, a farm of considerable dimensions, and not far from this
farm was a very small lake. I did not dare to ask if this was the
GREAT lake Vatne, or if this was the delicious prospect I had been
promised, for my question would have been taken for irony. I could
not refrain from wonder when Herr von H- began praising the
landscape as exquisite, and farther declaring the effect of the lake
to be bewitching. I was obliged, for politeness' sake, to
acquiesce, and leave them in the supposition that I had never seen a
larger lake nor a finer prospect.
We now made a halt, and the whole party encamped in the meadow.
While the preparations for a social meal were going on, I proceeded
to satisfy my curiosity.
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