On leaving Reykjavik Hans took us by the seashore. We passed lean pastures that were trying very hard, but in vain, to look green; yellow came out best. The rugged peaks of the trachyte rocks presented faint outlines on the eastern horizon; at times a few patches of snow, concentrating the vague light, glittered upon the slopes of the distant mountains; certain peaks, boldly uprising, passed through the gray clouds, and reappeared above the moving mists, like breakers emerging in the heavens.
