A Journey to the Interior of the Earth
At Kiel, as elsewhere, we must do something to while away the time. What with walking
on the verdant shores of the bay within which nestles the little town, exploring the thick
woods which make it look like a nest embowered amongst thick foliage, admiring the
villas, each provided with a little bathing house, and moving about and grumbling, at last
ten o'clock came.
The heavy coils of smoke from the ELLENORA'S funnel unrolled in the sky, the bridge
shook with the quivering of the struggling steam; we were on board, and owners for the
time of two berths, one over the other, in the only saloon cabin on board.
At a quarter past the moorings were loosed and the throbbing steamer pursued her way
over the dark waters of the Great Belt.
The night was dark; there was a sharp breeze and a rough sea, a few lights appeared on
shore through the thick darkness; later on, I cannot tell when, a dazzling light from some
lighthouse threw a bright stream of fire along the waves; and this is all I can remember of
this first portion of our sail.
At seven in the morning we landed at Korsor, a small town on the west coast of Zealand.
There we were transferred from the boat to another line of railway, which took us by just
as flat a country as the plain of Holstein.
Three hours' travelling brought us to the capital of Denmark. My uncle had not shut his
eyes all night. In his impatience I believe he was trying to accelerate the train with his
At last he discerned a stretch of sea.
"The Sound!" he cried.
At our left was a huge building that looked like a hospital.
"That's a lunatic asylum," said one of or travelling companions.
Very good! thought I, just the place we want to end our days in; and great as it is, that
asylum is not big enough to contain all Professor Liedenbrock's madness!
At ten in the morning, at last, we set our feet in Copenhagen; the luggage was put upon a
carriage and taken with ourselves to the Phoenix Hotel in Breda Gate. This took half an
hour, for the station is out of the town. Then my uncle, after a hasty toilet, dragged me
after him. The porter at the hotel could speak German and English; but the Professor, as a
polyglot, questioned him in good Danish, and it was in the same language that that
personage directed him to the Museum of Northern Antiquities.
The curator of this curious establishment, in which wonders are gathered together out of
which the ancient history of the country might be reconstructed by means of its stone