112 THROUGH THE FIELDS WITH LIN N^ US 



words, and such visions Linnaeus could raise by his 

 eloquence in the mind of his hearers, his Pylades, his 

 1 solitary luxury, his friend,' that at times they even 

 grew drunk with the wine of their enjoyment. But 



Fate is tardy with the stage 



And crowd she promised. Lean he grows and pale, 



Though restlessly at rest. Sordello. 



Sadly Carl munched his rye biscuit by the warmth 

 of the stoke-hole fire in the winter plant-house, and still 



waited. 



The woods were long austere with snow ; at last 

 Pink leaflets budded on the beech, and fast 

 Larches, scattered through pine-tree solitudes, 

 Brightened . . . Our buried year grew young again. 



Carl, who had sighed for Celsius to come for his 

 instruction merely, now looked to his coming as his only 

 possible salvation. How, he knew not ; but with all the 

 faith not yet starved out of him, he was sure that a 

 new life for him would at once begin. He was now in 

 debt for his lodging, and debt gnaws sharply. 



At last, in desperation, and by the advice of Professor 

 Eoberg, Carl applied for the situation of gardener in 

 the academy gardens ; but this was refused him by Pro- 

 fessor Rudbeck, who remarked at the same time that he 

 thought him qualified for a far superior station. 1 He 

 says ' he repined very much at this denial.' 



Oh, if he could but be free of debt he would forsake 

 all his hopes, all his dreams; he would leave Upsala, 

 leave his friend, and go home and be obscure ! With 

 1 Diary. 



