But before quitting the deck of the schooner he dragged me forward, and pointing with outstretched finger north of the bay at a distant mountain terminating in a double peak, a pair of cones covered with perpetual snow, he cried: "Snaefell! Snaefell!" Then recommending me, by an impressive gesture, to keep silence, he went into the boat which awaited him.

I followed, and presently we were treading the soil of Iceland.
The first man we saw was a good-looking fellow enough, in a general's uniform.

Yet he was not a general but a magistrate, the Governor of the island, M.le Baron Trampe himself.

The Professor was soon aware of the presence he was in.

He delivered him his letters from Copenhagen, and then followed a short conversation in the Danish language, the purport of which I was quite ignorant of, and for a very good reason.