I

I can see before me the little town, friendly as a home. It is so
small that I know its every hole and corner, am friends with all
the children and know the name of every one of its dogs. Who ever
walked up the street knew to which window he must raise his eyes to
see a lovely face behind the panes, and who ever strolled through
the town park knew well whither he should turn his steps to meet
the one he wished to meet.

One was as proud of the beautiful roses in the garden of a
neighbor, as if they had grown in one's own. If anything mean or
vulgar was done, it was as great a shame as if it had happened in
one's own family; but at the smallest adventure, at a fire or a
fight in the market-place, one swelled with pride and said: "Only
see what a community! Do such things ever happen anywhere else?
What a wonderful town!"

In my beloved town nothing ever changes. If I ever come there
again, I shall find the same houses and shops that I knew of old;
the same holes in the pavements will cause my downfall; the same
stiff hedges of lindens, the same clipped lilac bushes will
captivate my fascinated gaze. Again shall I see the old Mayor who
rules the whole town walking down the street with elephantine
tread. What a feeling of security there is in knowing that you are
walking there! And deaf old Halfvorson will still be digging in his
garden, while his eyes, clear as water, stare and wander as if they
would say: "We have investigated everything, everything; now,
earth, we will bore down to your very centre."