In the same way, the alleged development of Bjarni Herjulfson from Bjarni Grimolfson, which is also asserted by Joseph Fischer,[69] rests upon no more solid foundation than the coincidence of a name by no means uncommon in Icelandic literature. Storm, more correctly, recognizes the Bjarni of the Flatey Book as ‘en ellers ganske ubekjendt person’ (a person otherwise quite unknown), and Neckel’s _Erste Entdeckung Amerikas_ makes use of an identical expression. Would anyone, desiring to make up a good story about Bjarni Grimolfson, neglect the dramatic episode of his death in the worm-eaten ship, as given in the saga of Eric? Why, as Neckel says, not let him land and find the vines and corn, if the object was to give him a credit not his due? Apart from their first names, Bjarni Grimolfson and Bjarni Herjulfson have nothing whatever in common. When Fischer says, ‘Only in this way (i.e. by inventing the Flatey Book story) could the priest (John Thordson, one of the scribes of the Flatey Book) ascribe the honour of the discovery of Wineland to his hero Bjarni, who was really only one of the band who accompanied Karlsefni on his later expedition’, one is disposed to ask, Who treats Bjarni as a hero? He gets no credit for the discovery which accident threw in his way; Leif is here, as elsewhere, treated as the discoverer of Wineland: nay, we are told that Bjarni was severely criticized for lack of enterprise in not pursuing his investigations further. Moreover, if Bjarni Grimolfson was John Thordson’s hero, why change his surname altogether? The third parallel suggested by Mr. Dieserud is between Tyrker in the Flatey Book and Hake and Hekja in Eric’s Saga. Hake and Hekja, one would think, make a more picturesque appeal to an imaginative writer than Tyrker. They are at least as good material for a story. But they are Scots or Celts while Tyrker is a German, they are two while he is one; in fact, they show few points of resemblance. A better case could be made out for a comparison between Tyrker and Thorhall the Hunter, though even this would be pretty remote. These are the three instances most prominently put forward to substantiate a charge of plagiarism. When we look for points in one version which must inevitably have been included in the other if the two accounts were interdependent, we are only struck by the dissimilarity. The wild corn, so prominent in Eric’s Saga and in the popular accounts which reached Adam of Bremen, is not mentioned anywhere in the Flatey Book. The stranded whale, evidently a fact, as shown by Thorhall’s verses, is referred to, but the whole point of the story, as a story, is destroyed by too literal adherence to what appears to be the simple truth.