o use to ask permission of
Stobaeus. Linnaeus was so valuable that Stobaeus would not spare him.

So Linnaeus packed up and departed between the dawn and the day, leaving
a letter stating he had gone to Upsala because it seemed best and
begging forgiveness for such seeming ingratitude.

When Linnaeus got to Upsala he found a letter from Doctor Cyclops,
written in wrath, requesting him never again to show his face in Lund.
Rothman also lost the friendship of Stobaeus for his share in the
transaction.

* * * * *

When Linnaeus arrived at Upsala he had one marked distinction, according
to his own account--he was the poorest student that had ever knocked at
the gates of the University for admittance. Perhaps this is a mistake,
for even though the young man had patched his shoes with birch bark, he
was not in debt.

And the youth of twenty-one who has health, hope, ambition and animation
is not to be pitied. Poverty is only for the people who think poverty.

It is five hundred English miles from Lund to Upsala. After his long,
weary tramp, Linnaeus sat on the edge of the hill and looked down at the
scattered town of Upsala in the valley below. A stranger passing by
pointed out the college buildings, where a thousand young men were being
drilled and disciplined in the mysteries of learning. "Where is the
Botanical Garden?" asked the newcomer.

It was pointed out to him. He gazed on the site, carefully studied the
surrounding landscape, and mentally calculated where he would move the
Botanical Garden as soon as he had control of it. Let us anticipate here
just long enough to explain that the Upsala Botanical Garden now is
where Linnaeus said it should be. It is a most beautiful place, lined off
with close-growing shrubbery. After traversing the winding paths, one
reaches the lecture-hall, built after the Greek, with porches, peristyle
and gently ascending marble steps. On entering the building, the first
object that attracts the visitor is the life-size statue of Linnaeus.

To the left, a half-mile away, is the old cathedral--a place that never
much interested Linnaeus. But there now rests his dust, and in windows
and also in storied bronze his face, form and fame endure. In the
meantime, we have left the young man sitting on a boulder looking down
at the town ere he goes forward to possess it.

He adjusts his shoes with their gaping wounds, shakes the dust from his
cap, and then takes