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.