[136] This is evidently an error, for Christianity was introduced by Leif, before he sailed on his voyage to Vinland. Errors like this abound in all early annals, and why should the Icelandic chronicles be free from them? Every such case will be impartially pointed out. The treatment of this passage by Smith, in his Dialogues on the Northmen, p. 127, is far from being candid. He translates the passage thus: "But Eric the Red had died without professing Christianity," and refers the English reader to the Saga of Thorfinn Karlsefne, Antiquitates Americanæ, pp. 119-20, as if he would there find a reason for his rendering of the text, which is unequivocal, and is translated literally above. On turning to the authority in question, we find nothing more said than that "Eric was slow to give up his [pagan] religion," and that the affair caused a separation between him and his wife. That he was slow to give up his pagan belief, would seem to indicate that he did give it up eventually. Moreover, we have the direct statement that he was baptized. Second Narrative of Leif, p. 38.

[137] Norway lay east of Iceland, and hence the people of that country were sometimes called Eastmen.

[138] Winter began October 17. See p. 32, note 6.

[139] They probably had diminutive horses in Greenland, like this of Iceland to-day.

[140] Thorstein Black was a pagan, who nevertheless saw the superior value of the new faith.

[141] We must here remember the simplicity of manners, which then (as now) prevailed among the Icelanders. The tourist in Iceland is always surprised by the absence of all prudery.

[142] Whoever inclines to dismiss this whole narrative as an idle fiction, must remember that all history is more or less pervaded by similar stories. The Rev. Cotton, Mather, in his Magnalia of New England, gives the account of a great number of supernatural events of no better character than this related in the Saga. Some are ludicrous in the extreme, and others are horrible, both in their inception and end. Among other stories, is that of Mr. Philip Smith, deacon of the church at Hadley, Mass., and a member of the General Court, who appears to have been bewitched. He was finally obliged to keep his bed. Then it is said that the people "beheld fire sometimes on the bed; and when the beholders began to discourse of it, it vanished away. Divers people actually felt something often stir in the bed, at a considerable distance from the man; it seemed as big as a cat, but they could never grasp it. Several trying to lean on the bed's head, tho' the sick man lay wholly still, the bed would shake so as to knock their heads uncomfortably. A very strong man could not lift the sick man, to make him lie more easily, tho' he apply'd his utmost strength unto it; and yet he could go presently and lift the bedstead and a bed, and a man lying on it, without any strain to himself at all. Mr. Smith dies.... After the opinion of all had pronounc'd him dead, his countenance continued as lively as though he had been alive.... Divers noises were heard in the room where the corpse lay; as the clattering of chairs and stools, whereof no account could be given."—Magnalia, ed. 1853, vol. i, p. 455. The account is vouched for by the author, who was one of the most learned divines of his day. Another is given, among the multitude of which he had the most convincing proof. He writes: "It was on the second day of May, in the year 1687, that a most ingenious, accomplish'd and well-dispos'd young gentleman, Mr. Joseph Beacon by Name, about 5 o'clock in the morning, as he lay, whether sleeping or waking he could not say (but he judged the latter of them), had a view of his brother, then at London, although he was himself at our Boston, distanc'd from him a thousand leagues. This his brother appear'd to him in the morning (I say) about 5 o'clock, at Boston, having on him a Bengale gown, which he usually wore, with a napkin ty'd about his head; his countenance was very pale, ghastly, deadly, and he had a bloody wound on the side of his forhead. 'Brother,' says the affrighted Joseph, 'Brother,' answered the apparition. Said Joseph, 'What's the matter Brother? how came you here?' The apparition replied: 'Brother I have been most barbarously and inhumanly murdered by a debauch'd fellow, to whom I never did any wrong in my life.' Whereupon he gave a particular description of the murderer; adding, 'Brother, this fellow, changing his name, is attempting to come over to New England, in Foy or Wild: I would pray you on the arrival of either of these, to get an order from the governour to seize the person whom I now have describ'd, and then do you indict him for the murder of your brother.' And so he vanished." Mather then adds an account, which shows that Beacon's brother was actually murdered as described, dying within the very hour in which his apparition appeared in Boston. He says that the murderer was tried, but, with the aid of his friends, saved his life. Joseph himself, our author says, died "a pious and hopeful death," and gave him the account written and signed with his own hand. And now, while New England history abounds with stories like this, men incline to question an Icelandic writer, because he occasionally indulges in fancies of the same sort. Rather should we look for them, as authentic contemporary signs.

[143] Thorhild's Church. See Antiquitates Americanæ, p. 119.

[144] Literally, Biarne Butter-tub, from which we may, perhaps, infer his personal peculiarity.

[145] Throughout this narrative of Thorfinn, the name of Eric occurs where that of Leif should be given. Eric died five years before Thorfinn came over to Greenland. This account having been written in Iceland, the author made a very natural mistake in supposing that Eric was still at the head of the family. The proper change has been made in the translation, to avoid confusion.