But how different were the motives which urged the hostile descent in 1700 from those which inspired our attack in 1807--as different as was the beardless Charles, not yet eighteen, in the bloom of youth, with the fiery martial genius which soon made him the terror of Europe, and burning with anger at national aggression and personal insult, from our leader, who was already descending into the vale of years, and who could have felt no greater stimulus than military discipline in strictly obeying orders which he probably disapproved! Military excitement there was none. On our landing, no whistling bullets greeted the veteran’s ear, nor inspired the young soldier to deeds of deathless glory. Laurels there were none to reap, for the defence of the capital depended principally on undisciplined militia and young students at college. To add still further to the contrast, the Swedes landed as open and declared foes, whereas we, coming with no less hostile intent, professed ourselves bosom friends. On the night of our landing (August 16th) we advanced through a lofty forest. During our march an alarm was given that the foe were approaching. Orders were instantly issued to load with ball and fix bayonets, when many a sleek-chinned boy lost or gained the flush on his cheek. I now forget in which class I ranked, as, with many others present, it was the first time I expected to come in contact with a national foe, for such the Danes were some few hours before declared. The alarm proved false, and we felt grievously disappointed or happily consoled, according to the feelings of the individual. [Sidenote: A SECOND LESSON IN CHIVALRY.]