We haven’t any money and we ought to feel quite blue
But we don’t, we feel so happy, we don’t know what to do.
Fortunately, the innkeeper was amused by our poem and sympathetic toward our plight. He took our IOU’s and told us we could have all the money we wanted and to send it back when we reached Trondhjem.
From Trondhjem we crossed Scandinavia by rail to Stockholm, like Venice a city of canals. Delightful maiden ladies kept the breakfast place and served us with many queer breads, goats’-milk cheese, and sublime cleanliness. The canal boat took us across Sweden to Göteborg. It was a little steamer, from the porthole of which we saw a cow comfortably grazing a few feet away. And we saw and were impressed by the superb landscaping of lawns, by tree horticulture, and by lock masonry. In both Norway and Sweden the people talked English, the national costumes were delightful, the girls were pretty, and everybody was clean and democratic.
The winter semester of 1894–1895 was spent in Munich, where Groth’s mineral and crystal collections were the main attraction, and where I heard the lectures of Sir Doktor Privy-Councillor Knight Karl A. von Zittel, author of six huge volumes on fossil shells, fossil horses, fossil dragons, and fossil trees, and a history of geology. We once saw him rigged out in gold braid and an admiral’s fore-and-aft cocked hat for some imperial function.
He was a forceful lecturer. The assistant arranged diagrams on the rack, the students gathered, and then his majesty entered. Everyone rose and Zittel held forth with a rattan pointer: “Es gibt, meine Herren, ein ganze anzahl von ausgezeichnete beobachten über” and so forth. Then he whacked the drawings, and made graceful allusion to American investigators as he explained a giant stegosaurus.
In the “Heidelberger Geologischer Panoptikum,” as an attic room on the Neckar was called, I afterwards posted a ditty based on “Ole Uncle Ned”:
There was an Orthopod
Stegosaurus Marshii
Laid him down on his Jurassic bed.