I passed my old home at Önnestad station after dark, and soon arrived in Christianstad, where four years of my youth had been spent. It was my purpose this time only to pass through the city without looking up any old acquaintances. This was my thirty-sixth birthday, and, thinking of family and friends in my western home, I felt lonely, and repaired to my room at the hotel. I was not left alone very long, however, for the news of my arrival had preceded me by a telegram from Copenhagen, and soon an old schoolmate called, and a few minutes later the editor of the leading newspaper, Karl Möllersvärd, who was exactly of my own age and had been on a short visit to America, and with whom a warm and lasting friendship was soon formed. The stroll through the little city the following morning brought many tender recollections, and I should have enjoyed it more had I not been such an object of attention and curiosity to everybody there. The advent of the railroad and the leveling of the old fortifications had brought many improvements on the outskirts, but the interior of the town with its little, narrow, but rectangular squares, streets and alleys, and its little one and two-story houses had undergone no change. And yet I could hardly realize that it was the same, because those objects which, to my boyish fancy, had seemed grand and imposing now appeared so diminutive that it was more like a dream than a living reality. This was particularly the case when, at noon, I watched the guard-mount of the artillery at the great square, and saw a large number of finely-uniformed officers, many of them grey with age and service, their breasts covered with decorations and crosses. With their sabres dragging and clashing against the pavement, and their spurs rattling, they walked up to the parade line from which they reviewed a couple of dozen soldiers with an air of solemn dignity, which might have done honor to a Grant, a Sherman, or a Sheridan, while reviewing our hundreds of thousands of veterans of a hundred battlefields. Truly, if the army of Sweden is defective in anything it is not in the dignity and style of the officers of the Vendes artillery; but, joking aside, the splendid bearing and discipline of the regiment made a good impression. This regiment has in fact become noted as a training school for young men, who are afterwards employed in the railroad service, and in large establishments where ability, punctuality and practical knowledge are necessary.