With the discovery of Iceland and Greenland virtually commences our knowledge of the northern and Arctic seas. The Romans, even as late as Pliny’s time, had no correct knowledge of the North Sea and Baltic, and whatever they did know seems to have been derived second-hand from the Carthaginians. In the days of our good King Alfred our ancestors did undoubtedly engage in the pursuit of the whale and sea-horse, but it is to the “hardy Norseman,” whose “House of yore Was on the foaming wave,” that we are indebted for the first great discoveries. Conquering and ravaging wherever they went, spreading not merely terror and ruin, but also population and some of the ruder forms of civilisation, these Scandinavian pirates were the only rulers of the main in the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries, during which they incessantly ravaged our coasts, penetrated the very heart of France, established settlements, and even levied tribute on the reigning monarch. These bold Northmen ventured in vessels which now-a-days would be regarded as unsuitable for the most trifling sea voyages. In the year 861, Naddodr, a Norwegian Viking, bent on a piratical trip to the Faroe Islands, was driven by an easterly gale so far to the north-westward that he reached an utterly unknown island. Its mountains were snow-covered, and the first name suggested by this fact, and which he bestowed on the island, was Sneeland (Snowland). Certain Swedes ventured there three years afterwards, and on their return gave such a very lively account of its vegetation and soil that an emigration followed. One of the first adventurers thither was Flokko. The secret of the magnetic power, as applied to the compass, although known apparently in the earliest ages to the Chinese, was entirely unknown to the Scandinavians; and Flokko had provided himself with a raven, or, as some accounts say, four ravens, which, Noah-like, he let loose, and which guided him to the land of which he was in quest. He passed a winter there, and from the large quantity of drift-ice which encumbered the northern bays and coasts, changed its name to that which it at present bears—Iceland. In the year 874, Ingolf and other Norwegians, sick of the tyranny of their king, Harold, determined to settle in the new-found island. On approaching the coast, the leader, determining to be guided by chance in his selection of a locality, threw overboard a wooden door, which floated into a fiord on the southern side of the island, and the emigrants landed there. Others soon joined the little colony, bringing with them their cattle, implements, and household goods. From very early Icelandic records it is interesting to learn that these Norwegians found indications that others had preceded them, as on the shore were discovered crosses, bells, and books, and other relics of the Christian worship of those days. It is very generally believed that these were of Irish origin.