During the night our ponies ran away and it was a long time before Ólafur found them. They were going, according to their habit, before the wind and were nearly down to _Miklebaer_ when the guide found them. While he was pony hunting I repaired to the little kitchen, if such it may be called, and over a fire of dried sheep manure made some coffee and with the provisions in our packing boxes we made a good breakfast. We got away at ten thirty and soon after noon arrived at _Miklebaer_ and turned into the _tún_ enclosure to visit the grave of Frederick W. W. Howell, F. R. G. S. Howell was the author of the Pen Pictures of Iceland. He had spent many summers in the country and knew it the best of any Englishman. His illustrations are works of art and his descriptions of natural scenery are faithful and full of appreciation. Howell was the first to make the ascent of the _Öraefa Jökull_, 6,400 feet in height and the highest peak in Iceland. This was in August 1891. He lost his life in fording the _Heraðsvötn_, District-Waters, a broad, swift and deep river which flows through the valley of the _Skagafjörðr_. The place was opposite the farm of _Miklebaer_. This farm belongs to the church and within its cemetery the unfortunate Englishman is buried. A marble memorial marks his resting place and bears the following inscription:— In Loving Memory of Frederick W. W. Howell, F. R. G. S. Who Was Called to His Rest From the Heraðsvötn River 3d. July 1901 Aged 44. “Asleep in Jesus, Oh What Rest! So them also which sleep in Jesus Will God bring with Him.” The pastor invited us into his study and refreshed us with coffee and cakes and conversed with us in German and broken English. He had a good library of English, German and Icelandic works. Our stay was longer than we intended, for Ólafur, (this time it was a young lady and not the ponies that caused the delay), found a fair maiden of pleasing conversation. We finally started without the guide and later when he had overtaken us at the fiord and I teased him about his tardiness he stated that the maiden asked him to wait while she wrote a letter to a friend of hers in _Reykjavik_ and requested him to be the messenger. It must have been a long letter. Had he collected as long a letter from each of the attractive maidens at the many farms where we called in the summer of 1910 he would have had a good sized mail by the time he reached the capital.