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Getting Started with MariaDB

Learn how to use MariaDB to store your data easily and hassle-free

Daniel Bartholomew

BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI

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Getting Started with MariaDB

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First published: October 2013

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Credits

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Daniel Bartholomew

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Reviewers

Proofreader

P. R. Karthik

Tarsonia Sanghera

Daniel Parnell

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Stephane Varoqui

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About the Author

Daniel Bartholomew has been using Linux since 1997 and

databases since 1998. He has written dozens of articles for various
magazines, including The Linux Journal, Linux Pro, Ubuntu, User and
Tux.

Daniel has been involved with the MariaDB project shortly after it
began in early 2009. He currently works for SkySQL and splits his
time between MariaDB

documentation and maintaining the bits and pieces (including build,

e-mail, web, and other servers) that keep the MariaDB project
running smoothly. In addition to his day-to-day responsibilities,
Daniel also serves as the MariaDB release coordinator and has been
deeply involved with almost every MariaDB release.
He lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, USA with his lovely wife and four
children.

I'd like to thank Amy, Ila, Lizzy, Anthon, and Rachel for their
patience with me throughout the writing of this book. Thanks also to
Vladislav Vaintroub, Sanja Byelkin, Roger Bartholomew, and others
who were very helpful at various points during the project. Lastly, I'd
like to thank Monty and the rest of the MariaDB team for the
excellent database that they've created.

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About the Reviewers

P. R. Karthik started his career as a MySQL DBA. Currently, he is

working as a Senior MySQL DBA in Yahoo. They are managing one
of the biggest MySQL farms in the world.

I would like to thank my parents and friends for their support with
reviewing this book.

Daniel Parnell lives in Melbourne, Australia. He started messing

around with computers when he was very young. His first computer
was an AIM65 with a 4 K of RAM, BASIC and Forth in ROM, and no
storage. From there, he tinkered with various home computers
ranging from the Apple II to the Commodore Amiga. These days
Daniel works on web and desktop apps. When Daniel is not
programming or tinkering with his latest hardware project, he is
spending time with his wife and two children.

Stephane Varoqui is a senior MariaDB and MySQL consultant at

SkySQL. He is based in Paris. Before joining SkySQL in 2011, he
worked at MySQL/Sun/Oracle as a lead MySQL consultant in the
Europe/Middle East/Africa (EMEA) region for six years.

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Table of Contents

Preface 1

Chapter 1: Installing MariaDB

Choosing a MariaDB series

The development series

The stable series

The maintenance series

Installing MariaDB on Windows

10

Installing MariaDB on Mac OS X

13

Installing MariaDB on Debian, Ubuntu, and Linux Mint

14

Installing MariaDB on Fedora, Red Hat, and CentOS

15

Installing MariaDB on other Linux distributions

17

MariaDB package security

18

After the installation

18

Troubleshooting installation issues

19

Summary 20

Chapter 2: Configuring MariaDB

21

Filesystem layout for MariaDB

21

Filesystem layout for Windows

21

Filesystem layout for Linux

22
Modular configuration on Linux

23

The MariaDB configuration file

25

Comments

25

Groups 26

Options which do not require values

26

Options which require values

27

Options, options everywhere

28

Activating configuration changes

28

Summary 29

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Table of Contents

Chapter 3: MariaDB Security

31
Securing MariaDB in ten seconds

32

Connecting safely

34

Server security

36

Building security

37

Internal network security

38

Internet security

39

Summary 39

Chapter 4: MariaDB User Account Management

41

User privileges

41

Global administrative privileges

42

Database, table, and column privileges

42

Miscellaneous privileges and limits

43

Creating users

44

Granting permissions

45

Adding and removing privileges

47

Showing grants

47

Changing passwords

48

Removing users

48

Summary

49

Chapter 5: Using MariaDB

51

Running the mysql command-line client

51

Using a database

52

Listing all databases on a server

53

Creating and dropping databases

54

Creating a database

54

Dropping a database

55

Creating, altering, and dropping tables

56

Creating a table

56

Showing the command used to create a table

58

Exploring the structure of a table

59

Altering a table
60

Adding a column

60

Modifying a column

60

Dropping a column

61

Dropping a table

61

Selecting, inserting, updating, and deleting data

61

Inserting data

62

Updating data

63

Deleting data

64

[ ii ]

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Table of Contents
Reading data

64

Summary 68

Chapter 6: MariaDB Maintenance

69

MariaDB log files

69

The all-important binary log

69

The error log

70

The general query log

71

The slow query log

71

Optimizing and tuning MariaDB

72

Backing up MariaDB

73

Basic backups with mysqldump

Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 The boy of fourteen, with his indomitable energy, was already
leading his equally indomitable father into different fields of action. He
never rested from his studies in natural history. When not walking
through quivering bogs or actually shooting bird and beast, he,
surrounded by the brown-faced and curious sailors, would seat himself
on the deck of the dahabeah and skin and stuff the products of his
sport. I well remember the excitement, and, be it confessed, anxiety
and fear inspired in the hearts of the four young college men who, on
another dahabeah, accompanied us on the Nile, when the ardent
young sportsman, mounted on an uncontrollable donkey, would ride
unexpectedly into their midst, his gun slung across his shoulders in
such a way as to render its proximity distinctly dangerous as he
bumped absent-mindedly against them. When not actually hunting he
was willing to take part in exploration of the marvellous old ruins.
In a letter to “Edie” I say: “The other day we arrived at Edfoo, and
we all went to see the temple together. While we were there Teedie,
Ellie, Iesi (one of our sailors), and I started to explore. We went into a
little dark room and climbed in a hole which was in the middle of the
wall. The boys had candles. It was dark, crawling along the passage
doubled up. At last we came to a deep hole, into which Teedie
dropped, and we found out it was a mummy pit. It didn’t go very far
in, but it all seemed very exciting to us to be exploring mummy pits.
Sometimes we sail head foremost and sometimes the current turns us
all the way around—and I wish you could hear the cries of the sailors
when anything happens.”
They were busy days, for our wise parents insisted upon regularity
of a certain kind, and my older sister, only just eighteen, gave us
lessons in both French and English in the early morning before we
went on the wonderful excursions to the great temples, or before
“Teedie” was allowed to escape for his shooting expeditions. I do not
think the three months’ absence from school was any detriment, and I
am very grateful for the stimulating interest which that trip on the Nile
gave to my brothers and me. I can still see in retrospect, as if it were
yesterday, the great temple of Karnak as we visited it by moon-light;
the majestic colossi at Medinet Haboo; and the more beautiful and
delicate ruins of Philæ. Often my father would read Egyptian history to
us or explain the kind of architecture which we were seeing; but
always interspersed with more serious instruction were merry walks
and games and wonderful picnic excursions, so that the winter on the
Nile comes back to me as one of romantic interest mixed with the
usual fun and cheerful intercourse of our ordinary family life. The four
young men who had chartered the dahabeah Rachel were Messrs.
Nathaniel Thayer and Frank Merriam of Boston, Augustus Jay of New
York, and Harry Godey of Philadelphia, and these four friends, with the
addition of other acquaintances whom we frequently met, made for
my sister and my parents a delightful circle, into which we little ones
were welcomed in a most gracious way.
In spite of the fact of the charms of the Nile and the fun we
frequently had, I write on February 1, from Thebes, to my little
playmate “Edie,” with rather melancholy reminiscence of a more
congenial past: “My own darling Edie,” I say, “don’t you remember
what fun we used to have out in the country, and don’t you remember
the day we got Pony Grant up in the Chauncey’s summer house and
couldn’t get him down again, and how we always were losing Teedie’s
india rubber shoes? I remember it so perfectly, and what fun it was!” I
evidently feel that such adventures were preferable to those in which
we were indulging in far-away Egypt, although I conscientiously
describe the ear on one of the colossi at Medinet Haboo as being four
feet high, and the temple, I state, with great accuracy, has twelve
columns at the north and ten on either side! I seem, however, to be
glad to come back from that expedition to Medinet Haboo, for I state
that I wish she could see our dahabeah, which is a regular little home.
I don’t approve—in this same letter—of the dancing-girls, which my
parents allowed me to see one evening. With early Victorian criticism I
state that “there is not a particle of grace in their motions, for they
only wriggle their bodies like a snake,” and that I really felt they were
“very unattractive”—thus proving that the little girl of eleven in 1873
was more or less prim in her tastes. I delight, however, in a poem
which I copy for “Edie,” the first phrase of which has rung in my ears
for many a long day.
 “Alas! must I say it, fare-farewell to thee,
Mysterious Egypt, great land of the flea,
And thy Thebaic temples, Luxor and Karnac,
Where the natives change slowly from yellow to black.
Shall I ne’er see thy plain, so fraught with renown,
Where the shadoofs go up and the shadoofs go down,
Which two stalwart natives bend over and sing,
While their loins are concealed by a simple shoe string.”

This verse, in spite of the reference to the lack of clothes of the

stalwart natives, evidently did not shock my sensibilities as much as
the motions of the dancing-girls. Farther on in the letter I describe the
New Year’s Eve party, and how Mr. Merriam sang a song which I
(Conie) liked very much, and which was called “She’s Naughty But So
Nice.” “Teedie,” however, did not care for that song, but preferred one
called “Aunt Dinah,” because one verse ran: “My love she am a giraffe,
a two-humped camamile.” [Music had apparently only charms to
soothe him when suggestive of his beloved animal studies.] From
Thebes also my brother writes to his aunt one of the most interesting
letters of his boyhood:

Near Kom Obos, Jan. 26th, 1873.

Dear Aunt Annie:
My right hand having recovered from the imaginary attack
from which it did not suffer, I proceed to thank you for your
kind present, which very much delighted me. We are now on
the Nile and have been on that great and mysterious river for
over a month. I think I have never enjoyed myself so much as
in this month. There has always been something to do, for we
could always fall back upon shooting when everything else
failed us. And then we had those splendid and grand old ruins
to see, and one of them will stock you with thoughts for a
month. The temple that I enjoyed most was Karnak. We saw it
by moonlight. I never was impressed by anything so much. To
wander among those great columns under the same moon that
 had looked down on them for thousands of years was awe-
inspiring; it gave rise to thoughts of the ineffable, the
unutterable; thoughts which you cannot express, which cannot
be uttered, which cannot be answered until after The Great
Sleep.
[Here the little philosopher breaks off and continues in less
serious mood on February 9.]
I have had great enjoyment from the shooting here, as I
have procured between one and two hundred skins. I expect to
procure some more in Syria. Inform Emlen of this. As you are
probably aware, Father presented me on Christmas with a
double-barrelled breech loading shot gun, which I never move
on shore without, excepting on Sundays. The largest bird I
have yet killed is a Crane which I shot as it rose from a lagoon
near Thebes.
The sporting is injurious to my trousers....
Now that I am on the subject of dress I may as well
mention that the dress of the inhabitants up to ten years of age
is nothing. After that they put on a shirt descended from some
remote ancestor, and never take it off till the day of their death.
Mother is recovering from an attack of indigestion, but the
rest are all well and send love to you and our friends, in which I
join sincerely, and remain,
Your Most Affectionate Nephew,
T. Roosevelt, Jr.

The adoration of his little sister for the erudite “Teedie” is shown in
every letter, especially in the letters to their mutual little friend “Edie.”
On January 25 this admiration is summed up in a postscript which
says: “Teedie is out shooting now. He is quite professionist [no higher
praise could apparently be given than this remarkable word] in
shooting, skinning and stuffing, and he is so satisfied.” This expression
seems to sum up the absolute sense of well-being during that
wonderful winter of the delicate boy, who, in spite of his delicacy,
always achieved his heart’s desire.
In the efforts of his little sister to be a worthy companion, I find in
my diary, written that same winter of the Nile, one abortive struggle
on my own part to become a naturalist. On the page at the end of my
journal I write in large letters:

NATURAL HISTORY
“QUAIL
“Ad. near Alexandria, Egypt, November 27th, 1872. Length
5—Expanse 13.0 Wings 5 Tail 1.3—Bill 5. Tarsus 1.2 Middle Toe
1.1 Hind Toe .3.”

Under these mystic signs is a more elaborate and painstaking

description of the above bird. I can see my brother now giving me a
serious lecture on the subject, and trying to inspire a mind at that time
securely closed to all such interests—to open at least a crack of its
reluctant door, for “Teedie” felt that to walk with blind eyes in a world
of such fluttering excitement as was made for him by the birds of the
air showed an innate depravity which he wished with all his soul to
cure in his beloved little sister. At the end of my description of the quail
I fall by the wayside, and only once again make an excursion into the
natural history of the great land of Egypt; only once more do I
struggle with the description of a bird called this time by the curious
name of “Ziczac.” (Could this be “Zigzag,” or was it simply my childish
mind that zigzagged in its painful efforts to follow the impossible trail
of my elder brother?) In my account of this, to say the least, unusual
bird I remark: “Tarsus not finished.” Whether I have not finished the
tarsus, or whether the bird itself had an arrested development of some
kind, I do not explain; and on the blank page opposite this final effort
in scientific adventure I finish, as I began, by the words “Natural
History,” and underneath them, to explain my own unsuccessful
efforts, I write: “My Brother, Theodore Roosevelt, Esq.” Whether I had
decided that all natural history was summed up in that magic name, or
whether from that time on I was determined to leave all natural
history to my brother, Theodore Roosevelt, Esq., I do not know; but
the fact remains that from that day to this far distant one I have never
again dipped into the mystery of mandibles and tarsi.

* * * * *
And so the sunny, happy days on the great river passed away. A
merry eighteenth-birthday party in January for my sister Anna took the
form of a moonlight ride to the great temple of Karnak, and, although
we younger ones, naturally tired frequently of the effort to understand
history and hieroglyphics, and turned with joy even in the shadow of
the grand columns of Abydos to the game of “Buzz,” still I can say with
truth that the easily moulded and receptive minds of the three little
children responded to the atmosphere of the great river with its
mighty past, and all through the after-years the interest aroused in
those early days stimulated their craving for knowledge about the land
of the Pharaohs.
On our way down the river an incident occurred which, in a sense,
was also memorable. At Rhoda on our return from the tombs of Beni
Hasan we found that a dahabeah had drawn up near ours, on which
were the old sage Ralph Waldo Emerson and his daughter. My father,
who never lost a chance of bringing into the lives of his children some
worth-while memory, took us all to see the old poet, and I often think
with pleasure of the lovely smile, somewhat vacant, it is true, but very
gentle, with which he received the little children of his fellow
countryman.
It was at this time that the story was told in connection with Mr.
Emerson that some sentimental person said: “How wonderful to think
of Emerson looking at the Sphinx! What a message the Sphinx must
have had for Emerson.” Whereupon an irreverent wit replied: “The
only message the Sphinx could possibly have had for Emerson must
have been ‘You’re another.’” I can quite understand now, remembering
the mystic, dreamy face of the old philosopher, how this witticism
came about.
 * * * * *
And now the Nile trip was over and we were back again in Cairo,
and planning for the further interest of a trip through the Holy Land.
Mr. Thayer and Mr. Jay, two of the young friends who had
accompanied us on the Nile, decided to join our party, and after a
short stay in Cairo we again left for Alexandria and thence sailed for
Jaffa. In my diary I write at the Convent of Ramleh between Jaffa and
Jerusalem, where we spent our first night: “In Jaffa we chose our
horses, which was very exciting, and started on our long ride. After
three hours of delightful riding through a great many green fields, we
reached this convent and found they had no room for ladies, because
they were not allowed to go into one part of the building as it was
against the rules, but at last Father got the old monks to allow us to
come into another part of the convent for just one night.”
“Father,” like his namesake, almost always got what he wanted.
From that time on one adventure after another followed. I write of
many nice gallops, and of my horse lying down in the middle of
streams; and, incidentally with less interest, of the Mount of Olives and
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre! Antonio Sapienza proved to be an
admirable dragoman, and always the practical part of the tenting
cavalcade started early in the morning, and therefore as the rest of us
rode over the hills in the later afternoon we would see arranged cosily
in some beautiful valley the white tents, with the curling smoke from
the kitchen-tent already rising with the promise of a delightful dinner.
Over Jordan we went, and what a very great disappointment
Jordan was to our childish minds, which had always pictured a broad
river and great waves parting for the Ark of the Covenant to pass. This
Jordan was a little stream hardly more impressive than the brook at
our old home at Madison, and we could not quite accustom ourselves
to the disappointment. But Jerusalem with its narrow streets and
gates, its old churches, the high Mount of Olives, and the little town of
Bethlehem not far away, and, even more interesting from the
standpoint of beauty, the vision of the Convent of Mar Saba on the
high hill not far from Hebron, and beyond all else the blue sparkling
waters of the Dead Sea, all remain in my memory as a wonderful
panorama of romance and delight.
Arab sheiks visited us frequently in the evening and brought their
followers to dance for us, and wherever my father went he
accumulated friends of all kinds and colors, and we, his children,
shared in the marvellous atmosphere he created. I remember, in
connection with the Dead Sea, that “Teedie” and Mr. Jay decided that
they could sink in it, although the guides had warned them that the
salt was so buoyant that it was impossible for any living thing to sink
in the waters (the Dead Sea was about the most alive sea that I
personally have ever seen), and so the two adventurous ones
undertook to dive, and tried to remain under water. “Teedie”
fortunately relinquished the effort almost immediately, but Mr. Jay, who
in a spirit of bravado struggled to remain at the bottom, suffered the ill
effects from crusted salt in eyes and ears for many hours after leaving
the water.
For about three weeks we rode through the Holy Land, and my
memory of many flowers remains as one of the charms of that trip.
Later, led in the paths of botany by a beloved friend, I often longed to
go back to that land of flowers; but then to my childish eyes they
meant nothing but beauty and delight.
After returning to Jerusalem and Jaffa we took ship again and
landed this time at Beyrout, and started on another camping-trip to
Damascus, through perhaps the most beautiful scenery which we had
yet enjoyed. During that trip also we had various adventures. I
describe in my diary how my father, at one of our stopping-places,
brought to our tents some beautiful young Arab girls, how they gave
us oranges and nuts, and how cordially they begged us, when a great
storm came up and our tents were blown away, to come for shelter to
their quaint little houses.
Even to the minds of the children of eleven and fourteen years of
age, the great Temple of Baalbek proved a lure of beauty, and the
diary sagely remarks that “It is quite as beautiful as Karnak, although
in an entirely different way, as Baalbek has delicate columns, and
Karnak great, massive columns.” The beauty, however, is not a matter
of such interest as the mysterious little subterranean passages, and I
tell how “Teedie” helped me to climb the walls and little tower, and to
crawl through these same unexplored dark places.
The ride into Damascus itself remains still an expedition of
glamour, for we reached the vicinity of the city by a high cliff, and the
city burst upon us with great suddenness, its minarets stretching their
delicate, arrow-like spires to the sky in so Oriental a fashion that even
the practical hearts of the little American children responded with a
thrill of excitement. Again, after an interesting stay in Damascus, we
made our way back to Beyrout. While waiting for the steamer there
my brother Elliott was taken ill, and writes in a homesick fashion to the
beloved aunt to whom we confided all our joys and woes. Poor little
boy! He says pathetically: “Oh, Auntie, you don’t know how I long for
a finishing-up of this ever-lasting traveling, when we can once more sit
down to breakfast, dinner and lunch in our own house. Since I have
been sick and only allowed rice and chicken,—and very little of them—
I have longed for one of our rice puddings, and a pot of that
strawberry jam, and one of Mary’s sponge cakes, and I have thought
of when I would go to your rooms for dinner and what jolly chops and
potatoes and dessert I would get there, and when I would come to
breakfast we would have buckwheat cakes. Perhaps I am a little
homesick.” I am not so sure but what many an intelligent traveller,
could his or her heart be closely examined, would find written upon it
“lovely potatoes, chops and hot buckwheat cakes.”
But all the same, in spite of “Ellie’s” rhapsody, off we started on
another steamer, and my father writes on March 28, 1873:

Steamer off Rhodes.

Teedie is in great spirits, as the sailors have caught for him
numerous specimens, which he stuffs on deck, to the
edification of a large audience.

I write during the same transit, after stopping at Athens, that “It is
a very lovely town, and that I should have liked to stay there longer,
but that was not to be.” I also decided that although the ruins were
beautiful, I did not like them as much as either Karnak or Baalbek.
Having dutifully made these architectural criticisms, I turn with gusto
to the fact that Tom and Fannie Lawrence, “Teedie,” “Ellie,” and I have
such splendid games of tag on the different steamers, and that I know
my aunt would have enjoyed seeing us. The tag was “con amore,”
while the interest in the temples was, I fear, somewhat induced. Our
comprehending mother and father, however, always allowed us joyous
moments between educational efforts. In a letter from Constantinople
written by “Ellie” on April 7, he says: “We have had Tom and Frank
Lawrence here to dinner, and we had a splendid game of ‘muggins’
and tried to play eucre (I don’t know that this is rightly spelled) with
five, but did not suceede, Teedie did make such mistakes. [Not such
an expert in cards, you see, as in tarsi and mandibles!] But we were in
such spirits that it made no difference, and we did nothing but shout
at the top of our voices the battle cry of freedom; and the playing of a
game of slapjack helped us get off our steam with hard slaps, but
even then there was enough (steam) left in Teedie and Tom to have a
candle fight and grease their clothes, and poor Frank’s and mine, who
were doing nothing at all!” As one can see by this description, the
learned and rather delicate “Teedie” was only a normal, merry boy
after all. “Ellie” describes also the wonderful rides in Constantinople,
and many other joys planned by our indulgent parents. From that
same city, called because of its many steeples The City of Minarets,
“Teedie” writes to his little friend Edith:

I think I have enjoyed myself more this winter than I ever

did before. Much to add to my enjoyment Father gave me a
gun at Christmas, which rendered me happy and the rest of the
family miserable.
I killed several hundred birds with it, and then went and
lost it! I think I enjoyed the time in Egypt most, and after that I
had the most fun while camping out in Syria.
While camping out we were on horseback for several hours
of each day, and as I like riding ever so much, and as the
Syrian horses are very good, we had a splendid time. While
 riding I bothered the family somewhat by carrying the gun over
my shoulder, and on the journey to the Jordan, when I was on
the most spirited horse I ever rode, I bothered the horse too,
as was evidenced by his running away several times when the
gun struck him too hard. Our tent life had a good many
adventures in it. Once it rained very hard and the rain went into
our open trunks. Another time our tents were almost blown
away in a rough wind, and once I hunted a couple of jackals for
two or three miles as fast as the horse could go.
Yours truly,
T. Roosevelt, Jr.

This little missive sums up the joy of “Teedie’s” winter in Egypt and
Syria, and so it seems a fitting moment to turn to other interests and
occupations, leaving the mysterious land of the pyramids and that
sacred land of mountains and flowers behind us in a glow of child
memories, which as year followed year became brighter rather than
dimmer.
 III

THE DRESDEN LITERARY AMERICAN CLUB

MOTTO “W. A. N. A.”

I
t was a sad change to the three young American children to settle in
Dresden in two German families, after the care-free and
stimulating experiences of Egypt and the Holy Land. Our wise
parents, however, realized that a whole year of irregularity was a
serious mistake in that formative period of our lives, and they also
wished to leave no stone unturned to give us every educational
advantage during our twelve months’ absence from home and country.
It was decided, therefore, that the two boys should be placed in the
family of Doctor and Mrs. Minckwitz, while I, a very lone and homesick
small girl, was put with some kind but far too elderly people, Professor
and Mrs. Wackernagel. This last arrangement was supposed to be
advantageous, so that the brothers and sister should not speak too
much English together. The kind old professor and his wife and the
daughters, who seemed to the little girl of eleven years on the verge of
the grave (although only about forty years of age), did all that was in
their power to lighten the agonized longing in the child’s heart for her
mother and sister, but to no avail, for I write to my mother, who had
gone to Carlsbad for a cure: “I was perfectly miserable and very much
unstrung when Aunt Lucy wrote to you that no one could mention your
name or I would instantly begin to cry. Oh! Mother darling, sometimes I
feel that I cannot stand it any longer but I am going to try to follow a
motto which Father wrote to me, ‘Try to have the best time you can.’ I
should be very sorry to disappoint Father but sometimes I feel as if I
could not stand it any longer. We will talk it over when you come. Your
own little Conie.”

Poor little girl! I was trying to be noble; for my father, who had been
obliged to return to America for business reasons, had impressed me
with the fact that to spend part of the summer in a German family and
thus learn the language was an unusual opportunity, and one that must
be seized upon. My spirit was willing, but my flesh was very, very weak,
and the age of the kind people with whom I had been placed, the
strange, dreadful, black bread, the meat that was given only as a great
treat after it had been boiled for soup—everything, in fact, conduced to
a feeling of great distance from the lovely land of buckwheat cakes and
rare steak, not to mention the separation from the beloved brothers
whom I was allowed to see only at rare intervals during the week. The
consequence was that very soon my mother came back to Dresden in
answer to the pathos of my letters, for I found it impossible to follow
that motto, so characteristic of my father, “Try to have the best time you
can.” I began to sicken very much as the Swiss mountaineers are said to
lose their spirits and appetites when separated from their beloved
mountains; so my mother persuaded the kind Minckwitz family to take
me under their roof, as well as my brothers, and from that time forth
there was no more melancholy, no bursting into poetic dirges constantly
celebrating the misery of a young American in a German family.
From the time that I was allowed to be part of the Minckwitz family
everything seemed to be fraught with interest and many pleasures as
well as with systematic good hard work. In these days, when the word
“German” has almost a sinister sound in the ears of an American, I
should like to speak with affectionate respect of that German family in
which the three little American children passed several happy months.
The members of the family were typically Teutonic in many ways: the
Herr Hofsrath was the kindliest of creatures, and his rubicund, smiling
wife paid him the most loving court; the three daughters—gay, well-
educated, and very temperamental young women—threw themselves
into the work of teaching us with a hearty good will, which met with
real response from us, as that kind of effort invariably does. Our two
cousins, the same little cousins who had shared the happy summer
memories of Madison, New Jersey, when we were much younger, were
also in Dresden with their mother, Mrs. Stuart Elliott, the “Aunt Lucy”
referred to frequently in our letters. Aunt Lucy was bravely facing the
results of the sad Civil War, and her only chance of giving her children a
proper education was to take them to a foreign country where the
possibility of good schools, combined with inexpensive living, suited her
depleted income. Her little apartment on Sunday afternoons was always
open to us all, and there we, five little cousins formed the celebrated
“D. L. A. C.” (Dresden Literary American Club!)
On June 2 I wrote to my friend “Edie”: “We five children have
gotten up a club and meet every Sunday at Aunt Lucy’s, and read the
poetry and stories that we have written during the week. When the
book is all done, we will sell the book either to mother or Aunt Annie
and divide the money; (although on erudition bent, still of commercial
mind!) I am going to write poetry all the time. My first poem was called
‘A Sunny Day in June.’ Next time I am going to give ‘The Lament of an
American in a German Family.’ It is an entirely different style I assure
you.” The “different style” is so very poor that I refrain from quoting
that illustrious poem.
 The Dresden Literary American Club—Motto, “W. A. N. A.”
(“We Are No Asses”).
From left to right: Theodore Roosevelt, aged 14¾ years; Elliott Roosevelt, aged
13½ years; Maud Elliott, aged 12¾ years; Corinne Roosevelt, aged 11¾ years;
John Elliott, aged 14½ years. July 1, 1873.
The work for the D. L. A. C. proved to be a very entertaining
pastime, and great competition ensued. A motto was chosen by
“Johnnie” and “Ellie,” who were the wits of the society. The motto was
spoken of with bated breath and mysteriously inscribed W. A. N. A.
underneath the mystic signs of D. L. A. C. For many a long year no one
but those in our strictest confidence were allowed to know that
“W. A. N. A.” stood for “We Are No Asses.” This, perhaps somewhat
untruthful statement, was objected to originally by “Teedie,” who firmly
maintained that the mere making of such a motto showed that
“Johnnie” and “Ellie” were certainly exceptions that proved that rule.
“Teedie” himself, struggling as usual with terrible attacks of asthma that
perpetually undermined his health and strength, was all the same,
between the attacks, the ringleader in fun and gaiety and every
imaginable humorous adventure. He was a slender, overgrown boy at
the time, and wore his hair long in true German student fashion, and
adopted a would-be philosopher type of look, effectively enhanced by
trousers that were outgrown, and coat sleeves so short that they gave
him a “Smike”-like appearance. His contributions to the immortal literary
club were either serious and very accurate from a natural-historical
standpoint, or else they showed, as comparatively few of his later
writings have shown, the delightful quality of humor which, through his
whole busy life, lightened for him every load and criticism. I cannot
resist giving in full the fascinating little story called “Mrs. Field Mouse’s
Dinner Party,” in which the personified animals played social parts, in
the portrayal of which my brother divulged (my readers must remember
he was only fourteen) a knowledge of “society” life, its acrid jealousies
and hypocrisies, of which he never again seemed to be conscious.

MRS. FIELD MOUSE’S DINNER PARTY

By Theodore Roosevelt—Aged Fourteen
“My Dear,” said Mrs. M. to Mr. M. one day as they were
sitting on an elegant acorn sofa, just after breakfast, “My Dear, I
think that we really must give a dinner party.” “A What, my
love?” exclaimed Mr. M. in a surprised tone. “A Dinner Party”;
returned Mrs. M. firmly, “you have no objections I suppose?”
“Of course not, of course not,” said Mr. M. hastily, for there
was an ominous gleam in his wife’s eye. “But—but why have it
yet for a while, my love?” “Why indeed! A pretty question! After
that odious Mrs. Frog’s great tea party the other evening! But
that is just it, you never have any proper regard for your station
in life, and on me involves all the duty of keeping up
appearances, and after all this is the gratitude I get for it!” And
Mrs. M. covered her eyes and fell into hysterics of 50 flea power.
Of course, Mr. M. had to promise to have it whenever she liked.
“Then the day after tomorrow would not be too early, I
suppose?” “My Dear,” remonstrated the unfortunate Mr. M., but
Mrs. M. did not heed him and continued: “You could get the
cheese and bread from Squeak, Nibble & Co. with great ease,
and the firm of Brown House and Wood Rats, with whom you
have business relations, you told me, could get the other
necessaries.”
“But in such a short time,” commenced Mr. M. but was
sharply cut off by the lady; “Just like you, Mr. M.! Always raising
objections! and when I am doing all I can to help you!”
Symptoms of hysterics and Mr. M. entirely convinced, the lady
continues: “Well, then we will have it the day after tomorrow. By
the way, I hear that Mr. Chipmunck has got in a new supply of
nuts, and you might as well go over after breakfast and get
them, before they are bought by someone else.”
“I have a business engagement with Sir Butterfly in an hour,”
began Mr. M. but stopped, meekly got his hat and went off at a
glance from Mrs. M.’s eye.
When he was gone, the lady called down her eldest
daughter, the charming Miss M. and commenced to arrange for
the party.
“We will use the birch bark plates,”—commenced Mrs. M.
“And the chestnut ‘tea set,’” put in her daughter.
“With the maple leaf vases, of course,” continued Mrs. M.
“And the eel bone spoons and forks,” added Miss M.
“And the dog tooth knives,” said the lady.
“And the slate table cloth,” replied her daughter.
“Where shall we have the ball anyhow,” said Mrs. M.
“Why, Mr. Blind Mole has let his large subterranean
apartments and that would be the best place,” said Miss M.
“Sir Lizard’s place, ‘Shady Nook,’ which we bought the other
day, is far better I think,” said Mrs. M. “But I don’t,” returned her
daughter. “Miss M. be still,” said her mother sternly, and Miss M.
was still. So it was settled that the ball was to be held at ‘Shady
Nook.’
 “As for the invitations, Tommy Cricket will carry them
around,” said Mrs. M. “But who shall we have?” asked her
daughter. After some discussion, the guests were determined on.
Among them were all the Family of Mice and Rats, Sir Lizard, Mr.
Chipmunck, Sir Shrew, Mrs. Shrew, Mrs. Bullfrog, Miss Katydid,
Sir Grasshopper, Lord Beetle, Mr. Ant, Sir Butterfly, Miss
Dragonfly, Mr. Bee, Mr. Wasp, Mr. Hornet, Madame Maybug, Miss
Lady Bird, and a number of others. Messrs. Gloworm and Firefly
agreed to provide lamps as the party was to be had at night. Mr.
M., by a great deal of exertion, got the provisions together in
time, and Miss M. did the same with the furniture, while Mrs. M.
superintended generally, and was a great bother.
Water Bug & Co. conveyed everything to Shady Nook, and so
at the appointed time everything was ready, and the whole
family, in their best ball dresses, waited for the visitors.

* * * * *
The fisrt visitor to arrive was Lady Maybug. “Stupid old
thing; always first,” muttered Mrs. M., and then aloud, “How
charming it is to see you so prompt, Mrs. Maybug; I can always
rely on your being here in time.”
“Yes Ma’am, oh law! but it is so hot—oh law! and the
carriage, oh law! almost broke down; oh law! I did really think I
never should get here—oh law!” and Mrs. Maybug threw herself
on the sofa; but the sofa unfortunately had one weak leg, and as
Mrs. Maybug was no light weight, over she went. While Mrs. M.
(inwardly swearing if ever a mouse swore) hastened to her
assistance, and in the midst of the confusion caused by this
accident, Tommy Cricket (who had been hired for waiter and
dressed in red trousers accordingly) threw open the door and
announced in a shrill pipe, “Nibble Squeak & Co., Mum,” then
hastily correcting himself, as he received a dagger like glance
from Mrs. M., “Mr. Nibble and Mr. Squeak, Ma’am,” and
precipitately retreated through the door. Meanwhile the
unfortunate Messrs. Nibble and Squeak, who while trying to look
easy in their new clothes, had luckily not heard the introduction,
were doing their best to bow gracefully to Miss Maybug and Miss
Mouse, the respective mamas of these young ladies having
pushed them rapidly forward as each of the ladies was trying to
get up a match between the rich Mr. Squeak and her daughter,
although Miss M. preferred Mr. Woodmouse and Miss Maybug,
Mr. Hornet. In the next few minutes the company came pouring
in (among them Mr. Woodmouse, accompanying Miss Katydid, at
which sight Miss M. turned green with envy), and after a very
short period the party was called in to dinner, for the cook had
boiled the hickory nuts too long and they had to be sent up
immediately or they would be spoiled. Mrs. M. displayed great
generalship in the arrangement of the people, Mr. Squeak taking
in Miss M., Mr. Hornet, Miss Maybug, and Mr. Woodmouse, Miss
Katydid. But now Mr. M. had invited one person too many for the
plates, and so Mr. M. had to do without one. At first this was not
noticed, as each person was seeing who could get the most to
eat, with the exception of those who were love-making, but after
a while, Sir Lizard, (a great swell and a very high liver) turned
round and remarked, “Ee-aw, I say, Mr. M., why don’t you take
something more to eat?” “Mr. M. is not at all hungry tonight, are
you my dear?” put in Mrs. M. smiling at Sir Lizard, and frowning
at Mr. M. “Not at all, not at all,” replied the latter hastily. Sir
Lizard seemed disposed to continue the subject, but Mr. Moth, (a
very scientific gentleman) made a diversion by saying, “Have you
seen my work on ‘Various Antenae’? In it I demonstrated clearly
the superiority of feathered to knobbed Antenae and”—“Excuse
me, Sir,” interrupted Sir Butterfly, “but you surely don’t mean to
say—”
“Excuse me, if you please,” replied Mr. Moth sharply, “but I
do mean it, and if you read my work, you will perceive that the
rays of feather-like particles on the trunk of the Antenae deriving
from the center in straight or curved lines generally”—at this
moment Mr. Moth luckily choked himself and seizing the lucky
instant, Mrs. M. rang for the desert.
There was a sort of struggling noise in the pantry, but that
was the only answer. A second ring, no answer. A third ring; and
Mrs. M. rose in majestic wrath, and in dashed the unlucky
Tommy Cricket with the cheese, but alas, while half way in the
room, the beautiful new red trousers came down, and Tommy
and cheese rolled straight into Miss Dragon Fly who fainted
without any unnecessary delay, while the noise of Tommy’s
howls made the room ring. There was great confusion
immediately, and while Tommy was being kicked out of the
room, and while Lord Beetle was emptying a bottle of rare rosap
over Miss Dragon Fly, in mistake for water, Mrs. M. gave a glance
at Mr. M., which made him quake in his shoes, and said in a low
voice, “Provoking thing! now you see the good of no
suspenders”—“But my dear, you told me not to”—began Mr. M.,
but was interrupted by Mrs. M. “Don’t speak to me, you—” but
here Miss Katydid’s little sister struck in on a sharp squeak. “Katy
kissed Mr. Woodmouse!” “Katy didn’t,” returned her brother.
“Katy did,” “Katy didn’t,” “Katy did,” “Katy didn’t.” All eyes were
now turned on the crimsoning Miss Katydid, but she was
unexpectedly saved by the lamps suddenly commencing to burn
blue!
“There, Mr. M.! Now you see what you have done!” said the
lady of the house, sternly.
“My dear, I told you they could not get enough oil if you had
the party so early. It was your own fault,” said Mr. M. worked up
to desperation.
Mrs. M. gave him a glance that would have annihilated three
millstones of moderate size, from its sharpness, and would have
followed the example of Miss Dragon Fly, but was anticipated by
Madame Maybug, who, as three of the lamps above her went
out, fell into blue convulsions on the sofa. As the whole room
was now subsiding into darkness, the company broke up and
went off with some abruptness and confusion, and when they
were gone, Mrs. M. turned (by the light of one bad lamp) an
eagle eye on Mr. M. and said—, but we will now draw a curtain
over the harrowing scene that ensued and say,
“Good Bye.”
 “Teedie” not only indulged in the free play of fancy such as the
above, but wrote with extraordinary system and regularity for a boy of
fourteen to his mother and father, and perhaps these letters, written in
the far-away Dresden atmosphere, show more conclusively than almost
any others the character, the awakening mind, the forceful mentality of
the young and delicate boy. On May 29, in a letter to his mother, a very
parental letter about his homesick little sister who had not yet been
taken from the elderly family in which she was so unhappy, he drops
into a lighter vein and says: “I have overheard a good deal of Minckwitz
conversation which they did not think I understood; Father was
considered ‘very pretty’ (sehr hübsch) and his German ‘exceedingly
beautiful,’ neither of which statements I quite agree with.” And a week
or two later, writing to his father, he describes, after referring casually to
a bad attack of asthma, an afternoon of tag and climbing trees, supper
out in the open air, and long walks through the green fields dotted with
the blue cornflowers and brilliant red poppies. True to his individual
tastes, he says: “When I am not studying my lessons or out walking I
spend all my time in translating natural history, wrestling with Richard, a
young cousin of the Minckwitz’ whom I can throw as often as he throws
me, and I also sometimes cook, although my efforts in the culinary art
are really confined to grinding coffee, beating eggs or making hash, and
such light labors.” Later he writes again: “The boxing gloves are a
source of great amusement; you ought to have seen us after our
‘rounds’ yesterday.” The foregoing “rounds” were described even more
graphically by “Ellie” in a letter to our uncle, Mr. Gracie, as follows:
“Father, you know, sent us a pair of boxing gloves apiece and Teedie,
Johnnie, and I have had jolly fun with them. Last night in a round of
one minute and a half with Teedie, he got a bloody nose and I got a
bloody mouth, and in a round with Johnnie, I got a bloody mouth again
and he a pair of purple eyes. Then Johnnie gave Teedie another bloody
nose. [The boys by this time seemed to have multiplied their features
indefinitely with more purple eyes!] We do enjoy them so! Boxing is one
of Teedie’s and my favorite amusements; it is such a novelty to be made
to see stars when it is not night.” No wonder that later “Ellie”
contributed what I called in one of my later letters a “tragical” article
called “Bloody Hand” for the D. L. A. C., perhaps engendered by the
memory of all those bloody mouths and noses!
 “Teedie” himself, in writing to his Aunt Annie, describes himself as a
“bully boy with a black eye,” and in the same letter, which seems to be
in answer to one in which this devoted aunt had described an unusual
specimen to interest him, he says:
“Dear darling little Nancy: I have received your letter concerning the
wonderful animal and although the fact of your having described it as
having horns and being carnivorous has occasioned me grave doubts as
to your veracity, yet I think in course of time a meeting may be called
by the Roosevelt Museum and the matter taken into consideration,
although this will not happen until after we have reached America. The
Minckwitz family are all splendid but very superstitious. My scientific
pursuits cause the family a good deal of consternation.
“My arsenic was confiscated and my mice thrown (with the tongs)
out of the window. In cases like this I would approach a refractory
female, mouse in hand, corner her, and bang the mouse very near her
face until she was thoroughly convinced of the wickedness of her
actions. Here is a view of such a scene.
I am getting along very well with German and studying really hard. Your
loving T. R., Secretary and Librarian of Roosevelt Museum. (Shall I soon
hail you as a brother, I mean sister member of the Museum?)”
Evidently the carnivorous animal with horns was a stepping-stone to
membership in the exclusive Roosevelt Museum!
The Dresden memories include many happy excursions, happy in
spite of the fact that they were sometimes taken because of poor
“Teedie’s” severe attacks of asthma. On June 29th he writes his father:
“I have a conglomerate of good news and bad news to report to you;
the former far outweighs the latter, however. I am at present suffering
from a slight attack of asthma. However, it is only a small attack and
except for the fact that I cannot speak without blowing like an abridged
hippopotamus, it does not inconvenience me very much. We are now
studying hard and everything is systematized. Excuse my writing, the
asthma has made my hand tremble awfully.” The asthma of which he
makes so light became unbearable, and the next letter, on June 30 from
the Bastei in Saxon Switzerland, says: “You will doubtless be surprised
at the heading of this letter, but as the asthma did not get any better, I
concluded to come out here. Elliott and Corinne and Fräulein Anna and
Fräulein Emma came with me for the excursion. We started in the train
and then got out at a place some distance below these rocks where we
children took horses and came up here, the two ladies following on foot.
The scenery on the way and all about here was exceedingly bold and
beautiful. All the mountains, if they deserve the name of mountains,
have scarcely any gradual decline. They descend abruptly and
precipitously to the plain. In fact, the sides of the mountains in most
parts are bare while the tops are covered with pine forests with here
and there jagged conical peaks rising from the foliage. There are no
long ranges, simply a number of sharp high hills rising from a green
fertile plain through which the river Elbe wanders. You can judge from
this that the scenery is really magnificent. I have been walking in the
forests collecting butterflies. I could not but be struck with the
difference between the animal life of these forests and the palm groves
of Egypt, (auld lang syne now). Although this is in one of the wildest
parts of Saxony and South Germany, yet I do not think the proportion is
as much as one here for twenty there or around Jericho, and the
difference in proportion of species is even greater,—still the woods are
by no means totally devoid of inhabitants. Most of these I had become
acquainted with in Syria, and a few in Egypt. The only birds I had not
seen before were a jay and a bullfinch.”
The above letter shows how true the boy was to his marked tastes
and his close observation of nature and natural history!
After his return from the Bastei my brother’s asthma was somewhat
less troublesome, and, to show the vital quality which could never be
downed, I quote a letter from “Ellie” to his aunt: “Suddenly an idea has
got hold of Teedie that we did not know enough German for the time
that we have been here, so he has asked Miss Anna to give him larger
lessons and of course I could not be left behind so we are working
harder than ever in our lives.” How unusual the evidence of leadership is
in this young boy of not yet fifteen, who already inspires his pleasure-
loving little brother to work “harder than ever before in our lives.” Many
memories crowd back upon me as I think of those days in the kind
German family. The two sons, Herr Oswald and Herr Ulrich, would
occasionally return from Leipsig where they were students, and always
brought with them an aroma of duels and thrilling excitement. Ulrich, in
college, went by the nickname of “Der Rothe Herzog,” The Red Duke,
the appellation being applied to him on account of his scarlet hair, his
equally rubicund face, and a red gash down the left side of his face
from the sword of an antagonist. Oswald had a very extraordinary
expression due to the fact that the tip end of his nose had been nearly
severed from his face in one of these same, apparently, every-day
affairs, and the physician who had restored the injured feature to its
proper environment had made the mistake of sewing it a little on the
bias, which gave this kind and gentle young man a very sinister
expression. In spite of their practice in the art of duelling and a general
ferocity of appearance, they were sentimental to the last extent, and
many a time when I have been asked by Herr Oswald and Herr Ulrich to
read aloud to them from the dear old books “Gold Elsie” or “Old
Mam’selle’s Secret,” they would fall upon the sofa beside me and
dissolve in tears over any melancholy or romantic situation. Their
sensibilities and sentimentalities were perfectly incomprehensible to the
somewhat matter-of-fact and distinctly courageous trio of young
Americans, and while we could not understand the spirit which made
them willing, quite casually, to cut off each other’s noses, we could even
less understand their lachrymose response to sentimental tales and
their genuine terror should a thunder-storm occur. “Ellie” describes in
another letter how all the family, in the middle of the night, because of
a sudden thunder-storm, crawled in between their mattresses and woke
the irrelevant and uninterested small Americans from their slumbers to
incite them to the same attitude of mind and body. His description of
“Teedie” under these circumstances is very amusing, for he says:
“Teedie woke up only for one minute, turned over and said, ‘Oh—it’s
raining and my hedgehog will be all spoiled.’” He was speaking of a
hedgehog that he had skinned the day before and hung out of his
window, but even his hedgehog did not keep him awake and, much to
the surprise of the frightened Minckwitz family, he fell back into a heavy
sleep.
 In spite of the sentimentalities, in spite of the racial differences of
attitude about many things, the American children owe much to the
literary atmosphere that surrounded the family life of their kind German
friends. In those days in Dresden the most beautiful representations of
Shakespeare were given in German, and, as the hour for the theatre to
begin was six o’clock in the evening, and the plays were finished by nine
o’clock, many were the evenings when we enjoyed “Midsummer Night’s
Dream,” “Twelfth Night,” “The Taming of the Shrew,” and many more of
Shakespeare’s wonderful fanciful creations, given as they were with
unusual sympathy and ability by the actors of the German Theatre.
Perhaps because of our literary studies and our ever-growing
interest in our own efforts in the famous Dresden Literary American
Club, we decided that the volume which became so precious to us
should, after all, have no commercial value, and in July I write to my
aunt the news which I evidently feel will be a serious blow to her—that
we have decided that we cannot sell the poems and stories gathered
into that immortal volume!
About the middle of the summer there was an epidemic of smallpox
in Dresden and my mother hurriedly took us to the Engadine, and there,
at Samaden, we lived somewhat the life of our beloved Madison and
Hudson River days. Our cousin John Elliott accompanied us, and the
three boys and their ardent little follower, myself, spent endless happy
hours in climbing the surrounding mountains, only occasionally recalled
by the lenient “Fräulein Anna” to what were already almost forgotten
Teutonic studies. Later we returned to Dresden, and in spite of the
longing in our patriotic young hearts to be once more in the land of the
Stars and Stripes, I remember that we all parted with keen regret from
the kind family who had made their little American visitors so much at
home.
 FACSIMILE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT’S LETTER OF
SEPTEMBER 21, 1873, TO HIS OLDER SISTER
A couple of letters from Theodore, dated September 21 and October
5, bring to a close the experiences in Dresden, and show in a special
way the boy’s humor and the original inclination to the quaint drawings
which have become familiar to the American people through the book,
lately published, called “Theodore Roosevelt’s Letters to His Children.”
On September 21, 1873, he writes to his older sister: “My dear darling
Bamie,—I wrote a letter on the receipt of yours, but Corinne lost it and
so I write this. Health; good. Lessons; good. Play hours; bad. Appetite;
good. Accounts; good. Clothes; greasy. Shoes; holey. Hair; more ‘a-la-
Mop’ than ever. Nails; dirty, in consequence of having an ink bottle
upset over them. Library; beautiful. Museum; so so. Club; splendid. Our
journey home from Samaden was beautiful, except for the fact that we
lost our keys but even this incident was not without its pleasing side. I
reasoned philosophically on the subject; I said: ‘Well, everything is for
the best. For example, if I cannot use my tooth brush tonight, at least, I
cannot forget it to-morrow morning. Ditto with comb and night shirt.’ In
these efforts of high art, I have taken particular care to imitate truthfully
the Chignons, bustles, grease-spots, bristles, and especially my own
mop of hair. The other day I much horrified the female portion of the
Minckwitz Tribe by bringing home a dead bat. I strongly suspect that
they thought I intended to use it as some sorcerer’s charm to injure a
foe’s constitution, mind and appetite. As I have no more news to write,
I will close with some illustrations on the Darwinian theory. Your brother
—Teedie.”
The last letter, on October 5, was to his mother, and reads in part as
follows: “Corinne has been sick but is now well, at least, she does not
have the same striking resemblance to a half-starved raccoon as she did
in the severe stages of the disease.” After a humorous description of a
German conversation between several members of his aunt’s family, he
proceeds to “further illustrations of the Darwinian theory” and closes his
letter by signing himself “Your affectionate son, Cranibus Giraffinus.”
 FACSIMILE OF “SOME
ILLUSTRATIONS ON THE DARWINIAN
THEORY,” CONTAINED IN THE
LETTER OF SEPTEMBER 21, 1873
Shortly before leaving Dresden I had my twelfth birthday and the
Minckwitz clan made every effort to make it a gay festival, but perhaps
the gift which I loved best was a letter received that very morning from
my beloved father; and in closing this brief account of those days spent
in Germany, because of his wise decision to broaden our young horizons