The Faroe Islands lie about midway between Scotland and Iceland, and belong to Denmark. The whole group consists of thirty-five small islands, some of which are little more than naked rocks jutting up out of the sea. About twenty are inhabited. The rest are too barren and precipitous to afford a suitable place of abode even for the hardy Faroese. The entire population is estimated at something over six thousand, of which the greater part are shepherds, fishermen, and bird-catchers. Owing to the situation of these islands, surrounded by the open sea and within the influence of the Gulf Stream, the climate is very mild, although they lie in the sixty-second degree of north latitude. The winters are never severe, and frost and snow rarely last over two months. They are subject, however, at that season to frequent and terrible gales from the north, and during the summer are often inaccessible for days and even weeks, owing to dense fogs. The humidity of the climate is favorable to the growth of grass, which covers the hills with a brilliant coating of green wherever there is the least approach to soil; and where there is no soil, as in many places along the shores, the rocks are beautifully draped with moss and lichens. The highest point in the group is 2800 feet above the level of the sea, and the general aspect of them all is wild and rugged in the extreme. Prodigious cliffs, a thousand feet high, stand like a wall out of the sea on the southern side of the Stromoe. The Mygenaes-holm, a solitary rock, guards, like a sentinel, one of the passages, and forms a terrific precipice of 1500 feet on one side, against which the waves break with an everlasting roar. Here the solan-goose, the eider-duck, and innumerable varieties of gulls and other sea-fowl, build their nests and breed.

VIEW IN FAROE ISLANDS.

At certain seasons of the year the intrepid bird-hunters suspend themselves from the cliffs by means of ropes, and feather their own nests by robbing the nests of their neighbors. Enormous quantities of eggs are taken in this way. The eider-down, of which the nests of the eider-duck are composed, is one of the most profitable articles of Faroese traffic. The mode of life to which these men devote themselves, and their habitual contact with dangers, render them reckless, and many perish every year by falling from the rocks. Widows and orphans are numerous throughout the islands.

The few scattering farms to be seen on the slopes of the hills and in the arable valleys are conducted on the most primitive principles. A small patch of potatoes and vegetables, and in certain exposures a few acres of grain, comprise the extent of their agricultural operations. Sheep-raising is the most profitable of their pursuits. The climate appears to be more congenial to the growth of wool than of cereal productions. The Faroese sheep are noted for the fineness and luxuriance of their fleece, and it always commands a high price in market. A considerable portion of it is manufactured by the inhabitants, who are quite skillful in weaving and knitting. They make a kind of thick woolen shirt, something like that known as the Guernsey, which for durability and warmth is unsurpassed. Sailors and fishermen all over the Northern seas consider themselves fortunate if they can get possession of a Faroese shirt. The costume of the men, which is chiefly home-made, consists of a rough, thick jacket of brown wool; a coarse woolen shirt; a knitted bag-shaped cap on the head; a pair of knee-breeches of the same material as the coat; a pair of thick woolen stockings, and sheepskin shoes, generally covered with mud—all of the same brown or rather burnt-umber color. Exposure to the weather gives their skins, naturally of a leathery texture, something of the same dull and dingy aspect, so that a genuine Faroese enjoys one advantage—he can never look much more dirty at one time than another.

The women wear dresses of the same material, without much attempt at shape or ornament. A colored handkerchief tied around the head, a silver breast-pin, and a pair of ear-rings of domestic manufacture, comprise their only personal decorations. As in all countries where the burden of heavy labor is thrown upon the women, they lose their comely looks at an early age, and become withered, ill-shaped, and hard-featured long before they reach the prime of life. The Faroese women doubtless make excellent wives for lazy men; they do all the labors of the house, and share largely in those of the field. I do not know that they are more prolific than good and loving wives in other parts of the world, but they certainty enjoy the possession of as many little cotton-heads with dirty faces, turned up noses, ragged elbows, and tattered frocks, as one usually meets in the course of his travels. Two fair specimens of the rising generation, a little boy and girl, made an excellent speculation on the occasion of my visit to Thorshavn. Knowing by instinct, if not by my dress, that I was a stranger, they followed me about wherever I rambled, looking curiously and cautiously into my face, and mutually commenting upon the oddity of my appearance—which, by-the-way, would have been slightly odd even in the streets of New York, wrapped, as I was, in the voluminous folds of Captain SÖdring’s old whaling coat, with a sketch-book in my hand and a pair of spectacles on my nose. However, no man likes to be regarded as an object of curiosity even by two small ragamuffins belonging to a strange race, so I just held up suddenly, and requested these children of Faroe to state explicitly the grounds of their interest in my behalf. What they said in reply it would be impossible for me to translate, since the Faroese language is quite as impenetrable as the Icelandic. They looked so startled and alarmed withal that a gleam of pity must have manifested its appearance in the corner of my eyes. The next moment their faces broke into a broad grin, and each held out a hand audaciously, as much as to say, “My dear sir, if you’ll put a small copper in this small hand, we’ll retract all injurious criticisms, and ever after regard you as a gentleman of extraordinary personal beauty!” Somehow my hand slipped unconsciously into my pocket, but, before handing them the desired change, it occurred to me to secure their likenesses for publication as a warning to the children of all nations not to undertake a similar experiment with any hope of success.

FAROESE CHILDREN.

Thorshavn, so named after the old god Thor, is a small town of some five or six hundred inhabitants, situated on the southeastern side of the island of Stromoe. In front lies a harbor, indifferently protected by a small island and two rocky points. The anchorage is insecure at all times, especially during the prevalence of southerly and easterly gales, when it often becomes necessary to heave up and put to sea; and the dense fogs by which the approach to land is generally obscured render navigation about these islands extremely perilous. Of the town of Thorshavn little need be said. Its chief interest lies in the almost primeval construction of the houses and the rustic simplicity of its inhabitants. The few streets that run between the straggling lines of sheds and sod-covered huts scattered over the rocks are narrow and tortuous, winding up steep, stony precipices, and into deep, boggy hollows; around rugged points, and over scraggy mounds of gravel and grit. The public edifices, consisting of two or three small churches and the amtman’s residence, are little better than martin-boxes. For some reason best known to the people in these Northern climes, they paint their houses black, except where the roofs are covered with sod, which nature paints green. I think it must be from some notion that it gives them a cheerful aspect, though the darkness of the paint and the chilly luxuriance of the green did not strike me with joyous impressions. If Scotland can claim some advantages as a place of residence for snails, Thorshavn must surely be a paradise for toads accustomed to feed upon the vapors of a dungeon. The wharves—loose masses of rock at the boat-landing—are singularly luxuriant in the article of fish. Prodigious piles of fish lie about in every direction. The shambling old store-houses are crammed with fish, and the heads of fish and the back-bones of fish lie bleaching on the rocks. The gravelly patches of beach are slimy with the entrails of fresh fish, and the air is foul with the odor of decayed fish. The boatmen that lounge about waiting for a job are saturated with fish inside and out—like their boats. The cats, crows, and ravens mingle in social harmony over the dreadful carnival of fish. In fine, the impression produced upon the stranger who lands for the first time is that he has accidentally turned up in some piscatorial hell, where the tortures of skinning, drying, and disemboweling are performed by the unrelenting hands of man.

FAROESE ISLANDERS.

In addition to the standing population of Thorshavn, the fortifications—an abandoned mud-bank, a flag-staff, and a board shanty—are subject, in times of great public peril, to be defended by a standing army and navy of twenty-four soldiers, one small boat, one corporal, and the governor of the islands, who takes the field himself at the head of this bloody phalanx of Danes still reeking with the gore of slaughtered fish. Upon the occasion of the arrival of the Arcturus—the only steamer that ever touches here—the principal amtman, upon perceiving the vessel in the distance, immediately proceeds to organize the army and navy for a grand display. First he shaves and puts on his uniform; then calling together the troops, who are also sailors, he carefully inspects them, and selecting from the number the darkest, dirtiest, and most bloody-looking, he causes them to buckle on their swords. This done, he delivers a brief address, recommending them to abstain from the use of schnapps and other intoxicating beverages till the departure of the steamer. The dignity of official position requires that he should remain on shore for the space of one hour after the dropping of the anchor. He then musters his forces, marches them down to his war-skiff, from the stern of which waves the Danish flag, and, placing an oar in the hands of each man, he gives the order to advance and board the steamer. On his arrival alongside he touches his cap to the passengers in a grave and dignified manner, and expresses a desire to see our commander, Captain Andersen, who, during this period of the ceremony, is down below, busily occupied in arranging the brandy and crackers. The appearance of Captain Andersen on deck is politely acknowledged by the amtman, who thereupon orders his men to pull alongside, when the two cabin-boys and the cook kindly assist him over the gangway. Descending into the cabin, he carefully examines the ship’s papers, pronounces them all right, and joins Captain Andersen in a social “smile.” Then, having delivered himself of the latest intelligence on the subject of wool and codfish, he returns to his boat and proceeds to his quarters on shore. All this is done with a quiet and dignified formality both pleasing and impressive.

As an illustration of the severity of the laws that govern the Faroe Islands, and the upright and inexorable character of the governor and principal amtman, I must relate an incident that occurred under my own observation.

Shortly after the Arcturus had cast anchor, the party of British sportsmen already mentioned went ashore with their dogs and guns, and began an indiscriminate slaughter of all the game within two miles of Thorshavn, consisting of three plovers, a snipe, and some half a dozen sparrows. The captain had warned them that such a proceeding was contrary to law, and a citizen of Thorshavn had gently remonstrated with them as they passed through the town. When the slaughter commenced, the proprietors of the bog, in which the game abounded, rushed to the doors of their cabins to see what was going on, and perceiving that it was a party of Englishmen engaged in the destructive pastime of firing shotguns about and among the flocks of sheep that browsed on the premises, they straightway laid a complaint before the governor. The independent sons of Britain were not to be baffled of their sport in this manner. They cracked away as long as they pleased, by-Joved and blawsted the island for not having more game, and then came aboard. The steamer hove up anchor and sailed that night. Nothing farther took place to admonish us of the consequences of the trespass till our return from Iceland, when the principal amtman came on board with a formidable placard, neatly written, and translated into the three court languages of the place—Danish, French, and English. The contents of this document were as follows: that whereas, in the year 1763, a law had been passed for the protection of game on the Faroe Islands, which law had not since been rescinded; and whereas a subsequent law of 1786 had been passed for the protection of sheep and other stock ranging at large on the said islands, which law had not since been rescinded; and whereas it had been represented to the governor of the said islands that certain persons, supposed to be Englishmen, had lately come on shore, armed with shotguns, and, in violation of the said laws of the country, had shot at, maimed, and killed several birds, and caused serious apprehensions of injury to the flocks of sheep which were peaceably grazing on their respective ranges; now, therefore, this was earnestly to request that all such persons would reflect upon the penalties that would attach to similar acts in their own country, and be thus enabled to perceive the impropriety of pursuing such a course in other countries. Should they fail to observe the aforesaid laws after this warning, they would only have themselves to blame for the unpleasant consequences that must assuredly ensue, etc., etc. [Officially signed and sealed.]

Great formality was observed in carrying this important document on board. It was neatly folded and carefully done up, with various seals and blue ribbons, in a package about six inches wide by eighteen in length, and was guarded by the select half of the Faroese army and navy, being exactly twelve men, and delivered by the amtman of the island with a few appropriate and impressive remarks, after which it was hung up over the cabin gangway by the captain as a solemn warning to all future passengers. There can be no doubt that it produced the most salutary effects upon the sporting gentlemen. I was really glad the affair had taken place, as it evidently afforded his excellency a favorable opportunity of promulgating a most excellent state paper, cautiously conceived and judiciously worded. The preparation of it must have occupied his time advantageously to himself and his country during the entire period of our absence.

I must now turn back a little to say that, while my comrades were engaged in their unlawful work of killing the sparrows and frightening the sheep, I deemed it a matter of personal safety to keep out of range of their guns. Apart from the danger of arrest, the probable loss of an eye or disfigurement of some ornamental feature was a sufficient consideration to satisfy me of the policy of this course.

Taking a path across the rugged desert of rocks and bogs, extending for some miles back of Thorshavn, I quickly began to ascend a barren range of hills, abounding in greenstone trap-rock and zoolites, from the summit of which there is a magnificent view of the whole surrounding country, with glimpses of the cloud-capped summits of the neighboring islands. Beautiful little valleys, dotted with the sod-covered huts of the shepherds and fishermen, sweep down to the water’s edge a thousand feet below; weird black bogs, and fields of scoria and burned earth, lie on the slopes of the distant hills to the right; and to the left are rugged cliffs, jutting out of the sea like huge castles, around which myriads of birds continually hover, piercing the air with their wild screams. The wind blew in such fierce gusts over the bleak and desolate range of crags on which I stood that I was glad enough to seek shelter down on the leeside. It now occurred to me to go in search of a ruined church of which I had read in some traveler’s journal said to be within four or five miles of Thorshavn. Some artificial piles of stones, near the ledge upon which I had descended, indicated the existence of a trail. On my way down, a legion of birds, about the size of puffins, began to gather around, with fierce cries and warning motions, as if determined to dispute my progress. They flew backward and forward within a few feet of my head, flapping their wings furiously, and uttering the most terrific cries of rage and alarm, so that I was sorely puzzled to know what was the matter. It was not long before I came upon some of their nests, which of course explained the difficulty. Having no immediate use for eggs or feathers, I left the nests unmolested and proceeded on my way. In about an hour I came suddenly upon a small green valley that lay some five hundred feet below, directly on the water’s edge. By some mischance I had lost the trail, and, in order to descend, was obliged to slide and scramble down the cliffs—an experiment that I presently discovered would probably cost me a broken neck if persisted in; for when there seemed to be no farther obstruction, I came all at once upon a precipice at least sixty feet deep, without a single foothold or other means of descent than a clear jump to the bottom. Not disposed to follow the example of Sam Patch on dry land, I reluctantly turned back. By dint of scrambling and climbing, and slipping down various cliffs and slopes, I at length reached a point from which I had a view of some ruins and farm-houses still some distance below. Following the line of the regular trail till it struck into the cliffs, I had no farther difficulty in reaching the valley.

The good people at the farm-house—a family by the name of Petersen—received me in the kindest manner, with many expressions of wonder at the risk I had run in crossing the mountain without a guide. It was with considerable difficulty we made ourselves understood. None of the family spoke any language except their own. The son, indeed, a fine young man of twenty, understood a few words of English, but that was all. There is something, nevertheless, in genuine kindness and hospitality that makes itself intelligible without the aid of language. I was immediately invited into the house, and while young Petersen entertained me with old prints and Faroese books, his mother prepared an excellent lunch. Tired and worried after my trip, I could offer no objection. Never shall I forget the coffee and cream, and the butter and bread, and delicate fruit-tarts placed on the nice white table-cloth by the good Mrs. Petersen. I ate and drank, and glowed all over with a childlike relish of the good things, while the whole family gathered round and tried to make me understand that they had a relative in California, who lived in the mines at a place called Six-mile-bar, and that they were glad to see a Californian, and wanted to know all about California. It is wonderful with how few words we can communicate our ideas when necessity compels us to depend upon our ingenuity. Before I had parted from that family the whole matter was perfectly explained; the history of their absent relative was quite clear to me, and they had a very fair conception of the kind of country in which he lived. Upon no consideration would they receive compensation for the lunch, and they even seemed offended when I endeavored to press it upon them. This, from people whom I had never seen before—a plain country family living in a wilderness where such luxuries as sugar and coffee could only be had at considerable expense—was absolutely refreshing. For the first time since my arrival in Europe, after having traversed the whole Continent, I had encountered a specimen of the human race capable of refusing money. Subsequently I learned that this was the common practice in the Faroe Islands. The poorest shepherd freely offers to the stranger the hospitality of his hut; and it is a creed among these worthy people not to accept pay for coffee and bread, or indeed any thing else they may have to offer in the way of entertainment. My fellow-passengers were similarly treated in Thorshavn, where visitors are more frequent and the customs of the country less primitive.

KIRK GÖBOE.

The great object of interest at Kirk GÖboe is the ancient church, from which the place derives its name; a long, low stone building, whitewashed and covered with a sod roof, but, owing to repeated repairs, now presenting no particular traces of antiquity, although reported to have been built in the eighth century. I have no data in reference to this interesting relic, and am not aware that antiquarians have ever attempted to trace out its origin. The probability is that it was built by some of those Culdee anchorites of whom Dasent speaks as the first settlers of Iceland.

The interior of the church contains an altar, and some wooden carvings on the head-boards of the pews, evidently of great antiquity. It is impossible to conjecture from their appearance whether they are five hundred or a thousand years old—at least without more research than a casual tourist can bestow upon them.

There is also within a few steps of the farm-house a much larger and more picturesque ruin of a church, built in a later style of architecture. The only information I could get about this ruin was that it dates back as far as the fifteenth century. The walls are of rough stone well put together, and now stand roofless and moss-covered, inhabited only by crows and swallows. The doors and windows are in the Gothic style. A sketch made from the door of the old church first mentioned, embracing the residence of the Petersen family, with a glimpse of the cliffs and rugged ledges behind upon which their flocks graze, will give the best idea of the whole premises.

FARM-HOUSE AND RUINS.

Having thus pleasantly occupied a few hours at Kirk GÖboe, I bade adieu to the worthy family who had so hospitably entertained me, and was about to set out for Thorshavn, when young Petersen, not content with the directions he had given me, announced his intention of seeing me safe over the mountain. In vain I assured him that, however pleasant his company would be, I had no apprehension of losing the way this time. Go he would, and go he did; and when we parted on the top of the mountain, in plain sight of Thorshavn, he cordially shook me by the hand, and said many kind words, which I could only interpret to mean that he and all his kith and kin wished me a pleasant voyage to Iceland, and many years of health and happiness.

When I now recall the fine, intelligent face of this young man, his bright dark eyes, healthy complexion, and strong, well-knit frame, the latent energy in all his movements, the genial simplicity of his manners, and his evident thirst for knowledge, I can not help feeling something akin to regret that so much good material should be wasted in the obscurity of a shepherd’s life. So gifted by nature, what might not such a youth achieve in an appropriate sphere of action? And yet, perhaps, it is better for him that he should spend his life among the barren cliffs of Stromoe, with no more companions than his dog and his sheep, than jostle among men in the great outer world, to learn at last the bitter lesson that the eye is not satisfied with riches, nor the understanding with knowledge.

On the way down to the Valley of Thorshavn I met a man mounted on a shaggy little monster, which in almost any other country would have been mistaken for a species of sheep. As this was a fair specimen of a Faroese horse and his rider, I sat down on a rock after they had passed and took the best view of them I could get.

Late in the afternoon the scattered passengers were gathered together, and the good people of Thorshavn came down to the wharf to bid us farewell. In half an hour more we were all on board. “Up anchor!” was the order, and once more we went steaming on our way.

Short as our sojourn had been among these primitive people, it furnished us with many pleasant reminiscences. Their genial hospitality and simple good-nature, together with their utter ignorance of the outer world, formed the theme of various amusing anecdotes during the remainder of the passage. Favored by a southerly wind and a stock of good coal, we made the southeastern point of Iceland in a little over two days from Thorshavn.

FAROESE ON HORSEBACK.