Two years later I was lecturing in New York City and chanced that night to show on the screen a slide in which Johannes figured. He loomed up splendidly from his tiny steed and presented a fine appearance with his flowing beard and slouched hat tipped to one side and with the beloved riding whip displayed in characteristic fashion. At the close of the lecture a gentleman approached me and asked, “Did you have Johannes Zoëga for your guide? I thought I recognized him in one of the pictures.” “Yes,” I replied, “he was our guide during our first trip in the country.” “He was my guide and I presented him with that whip.” The world is not so large after all. Johannes then turned to Mrs. Russell and asked, “What shall I call you? Your man’s name is Russell shall I call you ‘madam’ or what?” She replied, “You may call me ‘madam’ or ‘Mrs. Russell,’ whichever you choose.” “What,” replied Johannes, “your name Russell and your Man’s name the same? Two people, man and wife, and same name?” We then informed him that in the United States when a woman married she dropped her maiden name, or substituted it for her middle name and assumed the surname of her husband. This was difficult for Johannes to understand, inasmuch as in Iceland a woman always keeps her maiden name, even after marriage. A woman is named thus, _Sigurður Eiricksdóttir_, or, _Johanna Stefánsdóttir_, and she is always called the “daughter of her father.” Likewise a man is the “son of his father” and is named accordingly. Thus, _Stefán Kristófersson_, or, _Björn Eyvindsson_, _Björn_ the son of _Eyvind_. Now when this “son” comes to have a son and wishes to name him he may choose any Christian name he pleases but _he must be_ “his son.” Thus if _Björn Eyvindsson_ were to name his son he might call him Geir, Helgi, Ólafur, etc., but the patronymic would be dropped and he would be called _Björnsson_. _Ólafur Björnsson_ would be the son of _Björn Eyvindsson_. When we were through with our discussion of nomenclature it would have been difficult to have told which party was the more mystified. The pack saddles were replaced, the fresh ponies saddled and we started upon the second stage of the day’s journey. Soon we mounted to the top of the ridge which is 1,100 feet above the sea. Near the sixth kilometer stone, about eighteen miles, we came to the _Saeluhús_, fortunate-house, an unoccupied hospice in the deserts and mountains for the refuge of travellers who may be unexpectedly overtaken by a storm, especially in winter when the snow is fiercely driven across the moors. To cross in the blinding storm is to invite death. This one is a small stone structure. During our following summer we found several of these and in one of them we were glad to take refuge.