I could not shake off a feeling of discomfort; and such is the power of prejudice, that--I acknowledge my weakness--I was even induced to beg that the priest would remove one of the covers.

Though I knew full well that the dead man was slumbering deep in the earth, and not in this coffin, I felt a shudder pass over me as the lid was removed, and I saw--as the priest had assured me I should do--merely a tombstone with the usual inscription, which this coffin-like covering is intended to protect against the rude storms of the winter.
Close beside the entrance to the church is the mound beneath which rest the bones of Snorri Sturluson, the celebrated poet; {39} over this grave stands a small runic stone of the length of the mound itself.

This stone is said to have once been completely covered with runic characters; but all trace of these has been swept away by the storms of five hundred winters, against which the tomb had no protecting coffin.

The stone, too, is split throughout its entire length into two pieces.

The mound above the grave is often renewed, so that the beholder could often fancy he saw a new-made grave.