The Icelandic Canadian - 01.03.1968, Blaðsíða 37

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
35
to remove any feathers or lint present
on them. This was necessary because
the beds were the only furniture to
be found in our rooms and consequent-
ly we were in the habit of sitting on
them. Our hair was combed in a
style that left a lock reaching down
over one cheek. Thus we set forth
on our journey. We felt inwardly some
anxiety as we knew of our shortcom-
ings in proper deportment and man-
ners, being young lads coming from
the countryside; but we had a feeling
that Matthias would overlook our
shortcomings. Our leader was notice-
ably silent, undoubtedly organizing
his address so as to be able to give the
proper impression. The other two of
us were only to be witnesses at this as-
signment. When we arrived at his
home we found him outside. We all
doffed our hats but were too excited
to have the presence of mind of iden-
tifying ourselves.
“Oh, what are your names my dear
friends?” he asked.
We told him.
“Yes, I am well acquainted with your
families, past and present. You are all
of good stock. Come in. You are all
welcome.”
We were in seventh heaven over the
friendly reception. Our worries had
vanished completely. His attitude
made us feel that we belonged to him
completely. We remained outside for
a while as Matthias talked and we
listened. As we were entering the
house he turned to me and said,
“What is your name again my good
boy?”
I offered my name again.
“Quite right. You are the grandson
of Reverend David from Hofi and his
wife Sigrithur. She is a beautiful wo-
man. How is she?”
“I think that she is well,” I replied.
“That is fine. I knew Olafur Davids-
son well. He was a man of great know-
ledge and had an inquiring mind. It
caused me great sorrow when he
drowned in Horga. Now, be so good
as to step inside.”
He went in ahead of us and when
we were all seated the leader of our
group cleared his throat and explained
our errand which was, on behalf of
our schoolmates, to ask the National
Poet if he would honor us with his
presence at a school function. We felt
that our leader had delivered the mes-
sage admirably.
“I welcome the opportunity with
pleasure”. What do you want me to
talk about?”
“It may be of your own choosing.
Anything will be gratefully accepted,”
I replied.
“I can talk about most anything be-
tween heaven and earth,” said Mat-
thias. “Do you want me to talk about
poetry, science, art, history, ethics,
aesthetics, Darwinism, philosophy, the-
ology, Shakespeare, Paul the Apostle.
Christianity, Dogma, Aborigines and
Berserks, Socrates or myself?” He spoke
this way at some length while we sat
gaping and wondering in astonish-
ment. Our leader repeated that the
topic of his talk was to be entirely of
his own choosing.
“Perhaps it will be for the best if I
talk as I feel at the occasion,” he re-
plied. “I will be able to decide on
something of interest to the audience,
but what shall we talk about now
while you are here?”
We had little to suggest. Then Matt-
hias began talking and continued
without a letup for an hour and a
half. His mind knew no limit. His
discussion ranged from the darkest
periods of history to a dream world of
the future, through years and cen-
turies, from earth to the heavens, and
to our earliest existence. He referred
to prophets and philosophers, often
spicing his ideas with English and