The Midnight Sun - 17.08.1940, Blaðsíða 4

4
THE MIDNIGHT SUN
j Jjceiand i
Iceland University.
The University of Iceland re-
cently ceiebrated the twenty-
ninth anniversary of its found-
ation hy inaugurating a new
university building at Reykja-
vík, erected with the proceeds
of a lottery authorized by the
State. Tlie British Minister, Mr.
Charles Howard Smith, spoket
in Latin and presented addres-
ses from the Universities of
Cambridge and Leeds. Messa-
ges of congratulation were re-
ceived from the univerities of
Oxford, London, Dublin, Yale,
and Abo (Finland). The chapel
is a notable feature of this
striking concrete building, and
one of the British chaplains
attended at its consecration by
the Bishop of Iceland.
Letter from Iceland.
The following letter appear-
ed in The Times last month
from the pen of Mr. Snæbjörn
Jonsson:
”In all my reading I do not
think I ever met with anything
so characteristically British
than the verses: „A Briton’s
Prayer“ published in your is-
sue of May 25......It is my
firm conviction that necessary
as guns and aeroplanes are for
the achievement of that final
victory which assuredly will be
Britain’s, no less essential is it
that those who now fight in the
cause of freedom, justice, and
truth should in manly humility
pray for the Almighty’s help.
I am glad to note tliat the col-
umns of The Times are lent
for the dissemination of that
truth, and I feel sure it will
please you to know that in this
far-off island there are many
who in deep reverence and
earnest join with your nation
in constant prayer for divine
aid to those who are fighting
for those noble ideals with
which the British race has blaz-
ed a trail for mankind to fol-
low.“
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY.
This is by no means original,
but it pleases my mind on a
sunny day .... at least in the
capital. So utterly recherché,
don’t you think, my dear re-
fugee Marquise. “I think that
I would rather like to be the
saddle of a bike”.
The Menace.
POLAR BEARS.
I know what you thought
when you knew you were com-
ing to Iceland, you thought
there would be Eskimoes,
Igloos and Polar Bears. I made
just the same mistake when I
first came here, several years
ago, and when I found there
were none, I went on to Green-
land and there of course I
found the whole bag of tricks,
including Polar Bears.
A Polar Bear as you know
is just an „outsize“ in sheep,
which prefers to live on pieces
of ice floating about in the sea.
It eats seals and fish instead
of grazing on the meadows and
getting sheared of it’s wool
like sheep usually do: not my
idea of having a good time,
thougli I am not sure I would
not prefer drifting about on
ice floes properly clothed, than
to be left to enjoy the winter
with my clothes sheared off
like poor old sheep.
Anyway you needn’t be so
downhearted after all, for the
is just a chance that you may
see a Polar Bear at any time
now. It depends entirely which
way the winds and currents
move the enormous masses of
polar ice to the north of us.
It is ahvays possible that we
may wake one morning to find
the bays and fjords full of
grinding, creaking, ice floes.
Over them, snow white ivory
gulls will be filling the air with
their cries. In between the
floes, grey seals will be rais-
ing their heads to breathe and
then diving to feed off shrimps
and anything they can catch on
the sea bed. Wandering about
over the ice-floes themselves
will be Polar Bears; you will
be surprised how yellow they
look against the ice.
But even if the ice doesn’t
come against the shore, as long
as it comes within sight of the
coast, we shall get Bears, for
Polar Bears are great swimm-
ers and they think nothing of
swimming twenty miles to ex-
plore some new land, and I
know of one Bear that was
found swimming happily a
hundred miles out to sea.
The Bears that have come
to Iceland in the past have
found sealing too difficult and
have usually made their way
inland to fish for salmon in
the rivers, but they soon get
hungry for meat and start kill-
ing the farmer’s sheep and
sometimes people too, and
there was one old Bear that
killed eight people before be-
ing shot.
Ice has not blocked the Ice-
landic fjords since the end of
the last war and then some
twenty Bears were shot on the
North coast of Iceland. None
have been since, but if the ice
comes, and surely it is just
about due, then we shall have
Bears again.
BY THE TJÖRNIN
Arras Poo/.
..... And are they twenty
five .... the years between?
The world was splendidly
young and Spring was danc-
ing green when four youths a-
seeking their fortune met on
a Canadian night on the banks
of the Ottawa river and swore
friendship . .. two Englishmen
one Canadian, one German.
One Englishman lies dead by
Arras Pool. One Canadian
guides the Huron and Iroquois
and the others within the bord-
ers. One German is the slaver-
ing jackal of the Evil Thing.
And I am here. Through the
reddening and yellowing and
the falling of the maple leaves
and above the mountains of
the snow the four youths learn-
ed understanding of each other.
Together they laughed and
worked and played .... they
lived in the same house ....
the shared their bread at the
same table. The German was
infectious with his laughter.
He was learning freedom in a
land of freedom. On a caress-
ing July day, a year gone, the
four adventurers in life and ro-
mance walked together. A tele-
graph message delivered to our
companion of many a mile,
was thrust unopened into his
pocket. With strange surmise
he looked at us. “Please do not
wait for me. I must go” he
said. A sudden flash of his ey-
es as though memories were
hurting and he was gone.
Seven days passed. I had din-
ed with Herself on the avenue
verandah where the maples
were dreaming of their new
crimson gowns. A cracked bell
at the Lutheran church was
calling the enemy to worship.
The delphinum-blue eyes of
Herself were clouded with seas
of mist as she handed me a
belt and a sword . . . . a sword
I should like Herself to know
is still unbroken .... “God
helping me, you’ll need these,
my dear.” And thus it was the
four youths went seeking their
fortunes to tlie great wars.
Cecil Cordell Wharton is bey-
ond the stars that are starry . .
Loftus Mclnnes is the secretary
of Indian affairs ... and I am
here. Yet when the chastise-
ment of hubris falls . .. as fall
it must ... I would not care
to be Joachim Ribbentrop, who
stood with us by Ottawa’s bank
when Spring was dancing
green. The Menace.