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.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87