I found many virtues,
but unfortunately so many faults, that I am no longer inclined to
exalt the Icelandic peasants as examples.
The best of their virtues is their honesty. I could leave my
baggage unguarded any where for hours, and never missed the least
article, for they did not even permit their children to touch any
thing. In this point they are so conscientious, that if a peasant
comes from a distance, and wishes to rest in a cottage, he never
fails to knock at the door, even if it is open. If no one calls
"come in," he does not enter. One might fearlessly sleep with open
doors.
Crimes are of such rare occurrence here, that the prison of
Reikjavik was changed into a dwelling-house for the chief warden
many years since. Small crimes are punished summarily, either in
Reikjavik or at the seat of the Sysselmann. Criminals of a deeper
dye are sent to Copenhagen, and are sentenced and punished there.
My landlord at Reikjavik, the master-baker Bernhoft, told me that
only one crime had been committed in Iceland during the thirteen
years that he had resided there. This was the murder of an
illegitimate child immediately after its birth.
