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