DEAR PARENTS,--We have to study much more now than at first, but
as I am less behind the others than I was, it is not so hard. I shall
change many things in father's place when I come home; for there is
much that is wrong there, and it is wonderful that it has prospered as
well as it has. But I shall make everything right, for I have learned
a great deal. I want to go to some place where I can put into practice
all I now know, and so I must look for a high position when I get
through here.
No one here considers Jon Hatlen as clever as he is thought to be
at home with us; but as he has a gard of his own, this does not concern
any one but himself.
Many who go from here get very high salaries, but they are paid so
well because ours is the best agricultural school in the country. Some
say the one in the next district is better, but this is by no means
true. There are two words here: one is called Theory, the other
Practice. It is well to have them both, for one is nothing without the
other; but still the latter is the better. Now the former means, to
understand the cause and principle of a work; the latter, to be able to
perform it: as, for instance, in regard to a quagmire; for there are
many who know what should be done with a quagmire and yet do it wrong,
because they are not able to put their knowledge into practice. Many,
on the other hand, are skillful in doing, but do not know what ought to
be done; and thus they too may make bad work of it, for there are many
kinds of quagmires. But we at the agricultural school learn both
words. The superintendent is so skillful that he has no equal. At the
last agricultural meeting for the whole country, he led in two
discussions, and the other superintendents had only one each, and upon
careful consideration his statements were always sustained. At the
meeting before the last, where he was not present, there was nothing
but idle talk. The lieutenant who teaches surveying was chosen by the
superintendent only on account of his ability, for the other schools
have no lieutenant. He is so clever that he was the best scholar at
the military academy.
The school-master asks if I go to church. Yes, of course I go to
church, for now the priest has an assistant, and his sermons fill all
the congregation with terror, and it is a pleasure to listen to him.
He belongs to the new religion they have in Christiania, and people
think him too strict, but it is good for them that he is so.
Just now we are studying much history, which we have not done
before, and it is curious to observe all that has happened in the
world, but especially in our country, for we have always won, except
when we have lost, and then we always had the smaller number. We now
have liberty; and no other nation has so much of it as we, except
America; but there they are not happy. Our freedom should be loved by
us above everything.
Now I will close for this time, for I have written a very long
letter. The school-master will read it, I suppose, and when he answers
for you, get him to tell me some news about one thing or another, for
he never does so of himself. But now accept hearty greetings from your
affectionate son,
O. THORESEN.
DEAR PARENTS,--Now I must tell you that we have had examinations,
and that I stood 'excellent' in many things, and 'very good' in writing
and surveying, but 'good' in Norwegian composition. This comes, the
superintendent says, from my not having read enough, and he has made me
a present of some of Ole Vig's books, which are matchless, for I
understand everything in them. The superintendent is very kind to me,
and he tells us many things. Everything here is very inferior compared
with what they have abroad; we understand almost nothing, but learn
everything from the Scotch and Swiss, although horticulture we learn
from the Dutch. Many visit these countries. In Sweden, too, they are
much more clever than we, and there the superintendent himself has
been. I have been here now nearly a year, and I thought that I had
learned a great deal; but when I heard what those who passed the
examination knew, and considered that they would not amount to anything
either when they came into contact with foreigners, I became very
despondent. And then the soil here in Norway is so poor compared with
what it is abroad; it does not at all repay us for what we do with it.
Moreover, people will not learn from the experience of others; and even
if they would, and if the soil was much better, they really have not
the money to cultivate it. It is remarkable that things have prospered
as well as they have.
I am now in the highest class, and am to remain there a year
before I get through. But most of my companions have left and I long
for home. I feel alone, although I am not so by any means, but one has
such a strange feeling when one has been long absent. I once thought I
should become so much of a scholar here; but I am not making the
progress I anticipated.
What shall I do with myself when I leave here? First, of course,
I will come home; afterwards, I suppose, I will have to seek something
to do, but it must not be far away.
Farewell, now, dear parents! Give greetings to all who inquire
for me, and tell them that I have everything pleasant here but that now
I long to be at home again.
Your affectionate son,
OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN.
DEAR SCHOOL-MASTER,--With this I ask if you will deliver the inclosed
letter and not speak of it to any one. And if you will not, then you
must burn it.
OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN.
TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER NORDISTUEN AT THE UPPER
HEIDEGARDS:--
You will no doubt be much surprised at receiving a letter from me;
but you need not be for I only wish to ask how you are. You must send
me a few words as soon as possible, giving me all particulars.
Regarding myself, I have to say that I shall be through here in a year.
Most respectfully,
OYVIND PLADSEN.
TO OYVIND PLADSEN, AT THE AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL:--
Your letter was duly received by me from the school-master, and I
will answer since you request it. But I am afraid to do so, now that
you are so learned; and I have a letter-writer, but it does not help
me. So I will have to try what I can do, and you must take the will
for the deed; but do not show this, for if you do you are not the one I
think you are. Nor must you keep it, for then some one might see it,
but you must burn it, and this you will have to promise me to do.
There were so many things I wanted to write about, but I do not quite
dare. We have had a good harvest; potatoes bring a high price, and
here at the Heidegards we have plenty of them. But the bear has done
much mischief among the cattle this summer: he killed two of Ole
Nedregard's cattle and injured one belonging to our houseman so badly
that it had to be killed for beef. I am weaving a large piece of
cloth, something like a Scotch plaid, and it is difficult. And now I
will tell you that I am still at home, and that there are those who
would like to have it otherwise. Now I have no more to write about for
this time, and so I must bid you farewell.
MARIT KNUDSDATTER.
P.S.--Be sure and burn this letter.
TO THE AGRICULTURIST, OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN:--
As I have told you before, Oyvind, he who walks with God has come
into the good inheritance. But now you must listen to my advice, and
that is not to take the world with yearning and tribulation, but to
trust in God and not allow your heart to consume you, for if you do you
will have another god besides Him. Next I must inform you that your
father and your mother are well, but I am troubled with one of my hips;
for now the war breaks out afresh with all that was suffered in it.
What youth sows age must reap; and this is true both in regard to the
mind and the body, which now throbs and pains, and tempts one to make
any number of lamentations. But old age should not complain; for
wisdom flows from wounds, and pain preaches patience, that man may grow
strong enough for the last journey. To-day I have taken up my pen for
many reasons, and first and above all for the sake of Marit, who has
become a God-fearing maiden, but who is as light of foot as a reindeer,
and of rather a fickle disposition. She would be glad to abide by one
thing, but is prevented from so doing by her nature; but I have often
before seen that with hearts of such weak stuff the Lord is indulgent
and long-suffering, and does not allow them to be tempted beyond their
strength, lest they break to pieces, for she is very fragile. I duly
gave her your letter, and she hid it from all save her own heart. If
God will lend His aid in this matter, I have nothing against it, for
Marit is most charming to young men, as plainly can be seen, and she
has abundance of earthly goods, and the heavenly ones she has too, with
all her fickleness. For the fear of God in her mind is like water in a
shallow pond: it is there when it rains, but it is gone when the sun
shines.
My eyes can endure no more at present, for they see well at a
distance, but pain me and fill with tears when I look at small objects.
In conclusion, I will advise you, Oyvind, to have your God with you in
all your desires and undertakings, for it is written: "Better is an
handful with quietness, than both the hands full with travail and
vexation of spirit." Ecclesiastes, iv. 6. Your old school-master,
BAARD ANDERSEN OPDAL.
TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER HEIDEGARDS:--
You have my thanks for your letter, which I have read and burned,
as you requested. You write of many things, but not at all concerning
that of which I wanted you to write. Nor do I dare write anything
definite before I know how you are in _every respect_. The
school-master's letter says nothing that one can depend on, but he
praises you and he says you are fickle. That, indeed, you were before.
Now I do not know what to think, and so you must write, for it will not
be well with me until you do. Just now I remember best about your
coming to the cliff that last evening and what you said then. I will
say no more this time, and so farewell.
Most respectfully,
OYVIND PLADSEN.
TO OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN:--
The school-master has given me another letter from you, and I have
just read it, but I do not understand it in the least, and that, I dare
say, is because I am not learned. You want to know how it is with me
in every respect; and I am healthy and well, and there is nothing at
all the matter with me. I eat heartily, especially when I get milk
porridge. I sleep at night, and occasionally in the day-time too. I
have danced a great deal this winter, for there have been many parties
here, and that has been very pleasant. I go to church when the snow is
not too deep; but we have had a great deal of snow this winter. Now, I
presume, you know everything, and if you do not, I can think of nothing
better than for you to write to me once more.
MARIT KNUDSDATTER.
TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER HEIDEGARDS:--
I have received your letter, but you seem inclined to leave me no
wiser than I was before. Perhaps this may be meant for an answer. I
do not know. I dare not write anything that I wish to write, for I do
not know you. But possibly you do not know me either.
You must not think that I am any longer the soft cheese you
squeezed the water away from when I sat watching you dance. I have
laid on many shelves to dry since that time. Neither am I like those
long-haired dogs who drop their ears at the least provocation and take
flight from people, as in former days. I can stand fire now.
Your letter was very playful, but it jested where it should not
have jested at all, for you understood me very well, and you could see
that I did not ask in sport, but because of late I can think of nothing
else than the subject I questioned you about. I was waiting in deep
anxiety, and there came to me only foolery and laughter.
Farewell, Marit Heidegards, I shall not look at you too much, as I
did at that dance. May you both eat well, and sleep well, and get your
new web finished, and above all, may you be able to shovel away the
snow which lies in front of the church-door.
Most respectfully,
OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN.
TO THE AGRICULTURIST, OYVIND THORESEN, AT THE AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL:--
Notwithstanding my advanced years, and the weakness of my eyes,
and the pain in my right hip, I must yield to the importunity of the
young, for we old people are needed by them when they have caught
themselves in some snare. They entice us and weep until they are set
free, but then at once run away from us again, and will take no further
advice.
Now it is Marit; she coaxes me with many sweet words to write at
the same time she does, for she takes comfort in not writing alone. I
have read your letter; she thought that she had Jon Hatlen or some
other fool to deal with, and not one whom school-master Baard had
trained; but now she is in a dilemma. However, you have been too
severe, for there are certain women who take to jesting in order to
avoid weeping, and who make no difference between the two. But it
pleases me to have you take serious things seriously, for otherwise you
could not laugh at nonsense.
Concerning the feelings of both, it is now apparent from many
things that you are bent on having each other. About Marit I have
often been in doubt, for she is like the wind's course; but I have now
learned that notwithstanding this she has resisted Jon Hatlen's
advances, at which her grandfather's wrath is sorely kindled. She was
happy when your offer came, and if she jested it was from joy, not from
any harm. She has endured much, and has done so in order to wait for
him on whom her mind was fixed. And now you will not have her, but
cast her away as you would a naughty child.
This was what I wanted to tell you. And this counsel I must add,
that you should come to an understanding with her, for you can find
enough else to be at variance with. I am like the old man who has
lived through three generations; I have seen folly and its course.
Your mother and father send love by me. They are expecting you
home; but I would not write of this before, lest you should become
homesick. You do not know your father; he is like a tree which makes
no moan until it is hewn down. But if ever any mischance should befall
you, then you will learn to know him, and you will wonder at the
richness of his nature. He has had heavy burdens to bear, and is
silent in worldly matters; but your mother has relieved his mind from
earthly anxiety, and now daylight is beginning to break through the
gloom.
Now my eyes grow dim, my hand refuses to do more. Therefore I
commend you to Him whose eye ever watches, and whose hand is never
weary.
BAARD ANDERSEN OPDAL.
TO OYVIND PLADSEN:--
You seem to be displeased with me, and this greatly grieves me.
For I did not mean to make you angry. I meant well. I know I have
often failed to do rightly by you, and that is why I write to you now;
but you must not show the letter to any one. Once I had everything
just as I desired, and then I was not kind; but now there is no one who
cares for me, and I am very wretched. Jon Hatlen has made a lampoon
about me, and all the boys sing it, and I no longer dare go to the
dances. Both the old people know about it, and I have to listen to
many harsh words. Now I am sitting alone writing, and you must not
show my letter.
You have learned much and are able to advise me, but you are now
far away. I have often been down to see your parents, and have talked
with your mother, and we have become good friends; but I did not like
to say anything about it, for you wrote so strangely. The
school-master only makes fun of me, and he knows nothing about the
lampoon, for no one in the parish would presume to sing such a thing to
him. I stand alone now, and have no one to speak with. I remember
when we were children, and you were so kind to me; and I always sat on
your sled, and I could wish that I were a child again.
I cannot ask you to answer me, for I dare not do so. But if you
will answer just once more I will never forget it in you, Oyvind.
MARIT KNUDSDATTER.
Please burn this letter; I scarcely know whether I dare send it.
DEAR MARIT,--Thank you for your letter; you wrote it in a lucky hour.
I will tell you now, Marit, that I love you so much that I can scarcely
wait here any longer; and if you love me as truly in return all the
lampoons of Jon and harsh words of others shall be like leaves which
grow too plentifully on the tree. Since I received your letter I feel
like a new being, for double my former strength has come to me, and I
fear no one in the whole world. After I had sent my last letter I
regretted it so that I almost became ill. And now you shall hear what
the result of this was. The superintendent took me aside and asked
what was the matter with me; he fancied I was studying too hard. Then
he told me that when my year was out I might remain here one more,
without expense. I could help him with sundry things, and he would
teach me more. Then I thought that work was the only thing I had to
rely on, and I thanked him very much; and I do not yet repent it,
although now I long for you, for the longer I stay here the better
right I shall have to ask for you one day. How happy I am now! I work
like three people, and never will I be behind-hand in any work! But
you must have a book that I am reading, for there is much in it about
love. I read in it in the evening when the others are sleeping, and
then I read your letter over again. Have you thought about our
meeting? I think of it so often, and you, too, must try and find out
how delightful it will be. I am truly happy that I have toiled and
studied so much, although it was hard before; for now I can say what I
please to you, and smile over it in my heart.
I shall give you many books to read, that you may see how much
tribulation they have borne who have truly loved each other, and that
they would rather die of grief than forsake each other. And that is
what we would do, and do it with the greatest joy. True, it will be
nearly two years before we see each other, and still longer before we
get each other; but with every day that passes there is one day less to
wait; we must think of this while we are working.
My next letter shall be about many things; but this evening I have
no more paper, and the others are asleep. Now I will go to bed and
think of you, and I will do so until I fall asleep.
Your friend,
OYVIND PLADSEN.