fells-foss, neither of which appear to be marked on recent maps. At this spot it is clearly to be seen that the valley of the Skjálfandafljót has been formed as the result of a mighty subsidence, snapping off here, and forming vast, jagged, and inaccessible cliffs. At the base, and extending far down the valley, there is a vast mass of débris of basaltic rock, the lumps varying from some hundreds of tons weight downwards; all in wild confusion. Amongst this, which abounds in treacherous quick-sands, the two arms of the river flow in numerous rapid and dangerous channels, eventually forming one river again. It was in and out amongst these channels that the native had to guide our horses with the utmost caution, and in a bewildering manner, giving the strictest instructions not to diverge a single foot from the track of his leading horse. Eventually he brought us on to the top of the cliffs. From here, to the point of bifurcation of the river, the land forms a great and long triangular-shaped island, clothed with the richest of vegetation. In the middle of this island there is a great space covered with black sand, and strewn with masses of black lava. This is the breeding haunt of Anser cinereus. It is in such an exposed position that the sitting birds can see the approach of an enemy long before one is within gun-range—even of a 4-bore—and take to flight. The eggs are placed on the sand, without any nest, and can be very easily seen. They are systematically taken by the farmer, and I was most positively assured that all the Wild Goose eggs which have been sent out from the North of Iceland were procured from this spot, this assertion being subsequently confirmed to my complete satisfaction. My guide was assured by the farmer that I was the first Englishman—Englander—he had ever seen in those parts.
I saw two considerable flocks of the birds—they were all Greylags—but the bulk of them had finished breeding, and were scattered lower down the river. These birds performed marvellous feats in the water, upon the edge of the mighty falls, which absolutely astounded me, and which I could not have credited had I not seen them. After about seven hours' chasing—the adults were in the moulting stage—I brought one party to bay on the edge of the cliffs. It was a dangerous spot, but afforded the only chance I should probably ever get. Scrambling down on to a narrow ledge, where there was only just room to stand, my faithful guide following and approaching as near as he could, with outstretched hands to receive me in case I was overbalanced by the recoil of the gun, I shouldered the ponderous 4-bore, and, to my delight, killed four birds at one shot—two adults and two young covered with yellow down. I recovered the two adults, but, alas! the two young, which I should have prized most, toppled over
