“No, sir. An American, from California.”
“De-e-e-a-r-r m-e-e!”
OH-O-O-AH!
Here there was a pause, for I really did not know what to make of the man. He looked at the ceiling, and at the floor, and out of the window, and started a remark several times, but always stopped before he got under way, or lost it in a prolonged “Oh-o-o-a!” Again and again he attempted to speak, never getting beyond a word or two. It seemed as if some new idea were continually crossing his mind and depriving him of his breath: he labored under a chronic astonishment. At first I supposed it might be the natural result of a year’s absence in the interior of Iceland, but subsequent acquaintance with him satisfied me that it was constitutional. He was astonished all the way from Reykjavik to Scotland. When it rained he opened his eyes as if they would burst; looked up in the sky, and cried “Oh-h-h!” When it blew he tumbled into his berth, covered himself up in the blankets, peeped out in the most profound amazement, and ejaculated “Ah-h-h! Oh-h-h! Hay-y-y! Ye’ow-w-w!” When the weather was fine he came up on deck, peered over the bulwarks, up at the rigging, down into the engine-room, and was perfectly astounded at each object, exclaiming alternately “Oh-h-o-o-a-a-h!” “Ah-ha!” “H-a-y!” and “Ye’ow-w-w-w!” At Thingvalla his main food was curds and black bread, yet he had an abundance of the best provisions. He was a thorough Icelandic scholar, and spoke the language with ease and grace, only when interrupted by the novel ideas that so often struck him in the head. With all his oddity, he was a gentleman by birth and education, and was very amiable in his disposition. He had evidently spent much of his life over books; his knowledge of the world scarcely equaled that of a child. From all that I could gather of his winter’s experiences in North Iceland, the climate was not very severe, except at occasional intervals when there was a press of ice-fields along the coast. The mean temperature was quite moderate. He suffered no inconvenience at all from the weather. At times it was very pleasant. He had the misfortune to break his leg in climbing over some lava-bergs, which crippled him for some weeks, but he was now getting all right again. This account of his experiences, which I obtained from him during the evening, took many divergences into the “Ohs!” and “Ahs!” and was really both instructive and entertaining. When he came to the breaking of his leg, I expressed my astonishment at the equanimity with which he bore it, which so astonished him, when he came to think of it in that light, that he cried “Oh-h-a-a! ya-a-s! It—was—very—bad!” as if he had entirely forgotten how bad it was, and now made a new and most singular discovery.
As there was only the one small room we had to sleep at pretty close quarters, the Englishman on the sofa and I in the bed, which for some reason was awarded to me by the good pastor. Having no preference, I offered to exchange; but this only astonished my eccentric neighbor, and set him off into a labyrinth of interjections. Our heads were placed pretty close together, and it was some time before I could settle myself to sleep, owing to a variety of peculiar sounds he made in whispering to himself. He seemed to be telling himself some interminable story from one of the Sagas. Several times I dozed off, and was awakened by some extraordinary ejaculation.
“I beg your pardon,” said I, at length, rising up, and looking in the face of my neighbor, who was lying on his back, with his eyes wide open, “I beg your pardon, sir; did you speak to me?”
“Oh-h-h-a!” shouted the Englishman, jumping up as if touched with a streak of electricity. “Dear me! ha—oh-o-o! How very odd!”
“Sir?”