“In this book have I let write tales told concerning those chiefs who have borne sway in the Northlands, and spake the Danish tongue, even as I have heard men of lore tell the same; and also certain of their lines of kindred according as they have been taught to me. Some of this is found in the Tales of Forefathers, wherein kings and other men of high degree have traced their kin; but some is written after olden songs or story-lays, which men have had for their joyance. Now though we wot not surely the truth thereof, yet this we know for a truth, that men of lore of old time have ever held such lore for truth.” Again,— “Now it is the manner of scalds, (poets), to praise those most whom they stand before while giving forth their song, but no one would dare to tell the king himself deeds, which all who harkened, yea and himself withal, wotted well were but windy talk and lying; for no praise would that be, but mocking rather.” At _Thjórsátún_, Farm of Bull-River, we found modern buildings constructed of wood with many continental conveniences. The farmer, _Ólafur Isleifsson_, had lived in Winnipeg about six years and had returned to his native land with many western ideas. He spoke some English and was glad to greet travellers from America. It was a relief to find a bed of sufficient length to permit one to stretch at full length. The food was cooked on a real iron stove and we were treated to a beef steak, the first we had seen in the country. The salmon were fresh and broiled to a turn, the coffee excellent as usual, and with rolls, cheese and eggs we made a substantial meal, having been without food for ten hours. It was a cool night and having a slight chill, I gave the hot water bag to the host with the request that he fill it with hot water. He looked at it with a peculiar expression as if wondering how it could be used as a drinking vessel. On its return it was filled with ice-cold water. As it is the Icelandic custom to bring drinking water to the guest on retiring, the farmer evidently thought we preferred the rubber bag to the customary glass bottle. Anticipating the luxury of the hot water and promising with every shiver to restore quiet to my quivering limbs the disappointment was keen. I had not the courage to call attention to his mistake by asking a second time but replied as cheerfully as I could, “_tak_,” thanks.