In another part of the city I came upon a company of perhaps fifty, marching in loose formation and talking cheerfully to one another. Behind me, coming toward the soldiers, was an officer, one of those band-box gentlemen in the long gray, military coat of the Germans, the high-crowned, low-visored cap, and lacquered boots. I learned before I was out of Germany to listen for the clank of their swords. The moment the sergeant in charge of the men saw this officer in the distance, he gave vent to a low command which brought the men four by four instantly. In the next breath their guns, previously swinging loosely in their hands, were over their shoulders and as the officer drew alongside a sharp “_Vorwärts!_” produced that wonderful jack-knife motion “the goose-step”--each leg brought rigidly to a level with the abdomen as they went slap--slap--slapping by, until the officer was gone. Then, at a word, they fell into their old easy formation again and were human beings once more. It was to me a most vivid glimpse of extreme military efficiency. All the while I was in Germany I never saw a lounging soldier. The officers, all men of fine stature, were so showily tailored as to leave a sharp impression. They walked briskly, smartly, defiantly, with a tremendous air of assurance but not of vain-glory. They were so superior to anything else in Germany that for me they made it. But to continue. At half-past two my train departed and I entered a fourth-class compartment--the only class one could book for on this branch road. They were hard, wooden-seated little cars, as stiff and heavy as cars could possibly be. My mind was full of my father’s ancestral heath and the quaint type of life that must have been lived here a hundred years before. This was a French border country. My father, when he ran away, had escaped into Alsace, near by. He told me once of being whipped for stealing cherries, because his father’s house adjoined the priest’s yard and a cherry-tree belonging to that holy man had spread its branches, cherry-laden, over the walls, and he had secretly feasted upon the fruit at night. His stepmother, informed by the priest, whipped him. I wondered if I could find that stone wall. The train was now running through a very typical section of old-time Germany. Solid, healthy men and buxom women got leisurely on and off at the various small but well-built stations. You could feel distinctly a strong note of commercial development here. Some small new factory buildings were visible at one place and another. An occasional real-estate sign, after the American fashion, was in evidence. The fields looked well and fully tilled. Hills were always in the distance somewhere.