they lay in their beds on board they were terrified with strange noises, and still more with the appearance of monstrous forms running along the shore. One of these, more gigantic than the rest, walked on the sea, with a huge club in his hand, and cried aloud that they could not sail until they had expiated the injury done to the sacred herd, by delivering one man from each vessel. Thorkil, perceiving that there was no escape, and preferring the safety of the many to that of the few, commanded the lots to be drawn, and the victims to be delivered. The wind now became favourable, and the vessels proceeded to the farther Biarmia. This was a region of eternal cold, covered with deep snows, and with pathless forests, destitute of fertility, and abounding with strange beasts; here were many rivers, pouring along their waters with ceaseless noise, owing to the rocky impediments in their course. To this coast Thorkil directed the prows of the vessels, assuring his companions that they were now come to the place which immediately led to the abode of Geruth. He warned them not to speak with the inhabitants, but to leave that office to him, who was acquainted with the customs of the place. Towards twilight, a mighty giant approached, and saluted the sailors by name; this was Guthmund, the brother of Geruth, the protector of strangers. They gazed, admired, and were silent. When asked by the giant the reason of their silence, Thorkil replied that they were unacquainted with his speech. Guthmund received them into his chariots, and proceeded with them towards his palace. A golden bridge lay within sight, and some were inclined to pass over it. “If you do,” said Thorkil, “you will repent: this river, so full of monstrous beings, separates the human from other natures, and beyond it is no footing for man.” They soon came to the house of their host, and here it was doubly necessary for Thorkil to repeat his warnings: he assured them, they were literally surrounded by destruction. They must not eat of the food placed before them, but eat what they had brought with them, and seat themselves at a distance from the natives. They must equally shun the embraces of the women; for Guthmund had twelve lovely daughters, all ministers of the table, and all frail enough. If they yielded to any of these temptations, they would instantly lose the remembrance of the past, and would pass the remainder of their days with herds of monstrous beasts. The terrified strangers observed his directions; but Guthmund was offended with them for despising his hospitality: he was particularly so with king Gorm. But Thorkil had a ready excuse. Strange food, the latter observed, did not agree with many persons, and was frequently the cause of disease; it was so with the king, who was obliged to live on certain kinds of food, which he could only be sure of finding in his own kitchen: hence the host should not be offended with that which implied no want of respect to himself, but a prudent