Mr. Ross Browne thus describes the general aspect of the coast of Iceland: “Nothing could surpass the desolate grandeur of the coast as we approached the point of Reykjaness. It was of an almost infernal blackness. The whole country seemed uptorn, rifted, shattered, and scattered about in a vast chaos of ruin. Huge cliffs of lava split down to their bases toppled over the surf. Rocks of every conceivable shape, scorched and blasted with fire, wrested from the main and hurled into the sea, battled with the waves, their black scraggy points piercing the mist like giant hands upthrown to smite or sink in a fierce death-struggle. The wild havoc wrought in the conflict of elements was appalling. Birds screamed over the fearful wreck of matter. The surf from the inrolling waves broke against the charred and shattered desert of ruin with a terrific roar. Columns of spray shot up over the blackened fragments of lava, while in every opening the lashed waters, discolored by the collision, seethed and surged as in a huge caldron.” [Illustration: 63. WESTMAN ISLES.] Of the Westman Islands, he says: “Towards noon we made the Westman Isles, a small rocky group some ten miles distant from the main island. A fishing and trading establishment, owned by a company of Danes, is located on one of these islands. The _Arcturus_ touches twice a year to deliver and receive a mail. On the occasion of our visit, a boat came out with a hardy-looking crew of Danes to receive the mail-bag. It was doubtless a matter of great rejoicing to them to obtain news from home. I had barely time to make a rough outline of the islands as we lay off the settlement. The chief interest attached to the Westman group is, that it is supposed to have been visited by Columbus in 1477, fifteen years prior to his voyage of discovery to the shores of America.” The puffin, or the screeching sea-mew, seem the only inhabitants for which nature has fitted the Westmans, and yet they have a history which leads us back to the times when Iceland itself first became known to man. About 875, a few years after Ingolfr followed his household gods to Reykjavik, a Norwegian pirate, perchance one of the associates of that historical personage, landed on the coast of Ireland, attacked with fire and sword the defenseless population, captured forty or fifty persons, men, women, and children, and carried them off as slaves. The passage must have been any thing but pleasant, for it gave the Hibernians such a foretaste of the wretchedness that awaited them in Iceland, their future abode, that, taking courage from despair, they rose on their captors, threw them overboard, and went ashore on the first land they met with.