The most recent recorded landing on the island was effected twenty-two years ago,by the brave and pious Captain,now Dr.Scoresby,[Footnote:I regret to be obliged to subjoin that Dr.Scoresby has died since the above was written.]on his return from a whaling cruise.He had seen the mountain of Beerenberg one hundred miles off,and,on approaching,found the coast quite clear of ice.
According to his survey and observations,Jan Mayen is about sixteen miles long,by four wide;but I hope soon,on my own authority,to be able to tell you more about it.
Certainly,this our last evening spent in Iceland will not have been the least joyous of our stay.The dinner on board the "Reine Hortense"was very pleasant.I renewed acquaintance with some of my old Baltic friends,and was presented to two or three of the Prince's staff who did not accompany the expedition to the Geysirs;among others,to the Duc d'Abrantes,Marshal Junot's son.On sitting down to table,I found myself between H.I.H.and Monsieur de Saulcy,member of the French Institute,who made that famous expedition to the Dead Sea,and is one of the gayest,pleasantest persons I have ever met.Of course there was a great deal of laughing and talking,as well as much speculation with regard to the costume of the Icelandic ladies we were to see at the ball.It appears that the dove-cots of Reykjavik have been a good deal fluttered by an announcement emanating from the gallant Captain of the "Artemise"that his fair guests would be expected to come in low dresses;for it would seem that the practice of showing their ivory shoulders is,as yet,an idea as shocking to the pretty ladies of this country as waltzes were to our grandmothers.Nay,there was not even to be found a native milliner equal to the task of marking out that mysterious line which divides the prudish from the improper;so that the Collet-monte faction have been in despair.As it turned out,their anxiety on this head was unnecessary;for we found,on entering the ball-room,that,with the natural refinement which characterises this noble people,our bright-eyed partners,as if by inspiration,had hit off the exact sweep from shoulder to shoulder,at which--after those many oscillations,up and down,which the female corsage has undergone since the time of the first Director--good taste has finally arrested it.
I happened to be particularly interested in the above important question;for up to that moment I had always been haunted by a horrid paragraph I had met with somewhere in an Icelandic book of travels,to the effect that it was the practice of Icelandic women,from early childhood,to flatten down their bosoms as much as possible.This fact,for the honour of the island,I am now in a position to deny;and I here declare that,as far as I had the indiscretion to observe,those maligned ladies appeared to me as buxom in form as any rosy English girl I have ever seen.
