I must now tell you that we have had an examination, and I stand very high in many things. I am high in writing, and land measuring, but not so good in composition. The principal says this is because I have not read enough, and he has given me some books by Ole Vig, which are very easy to understand.
Everything here is so small to what it is in other countries; we understand next to nothing, we learn everything from the Scotch and Swiss, but gardening most from Holland.
I have now been here nearly a year, and I thought I had learnt a great deal; but when I saw what those who left at the last examination knew, and thought that not even they knew anything in comparison to the foreigners, I felt quite disheartened. I am now in the first class, and must stay here another year before I am ready. But most of my companions are gone, and I long for home. It seems as if I stood alone, though I certainly do not, but it feels so strange when one has been long away.
What am I to do when I leave here? I shall naturally come home first, and then I must seek for some situation, but it must not be far away.
Good-bye dear parents. Remember me kindly to those who ask after me, and say I am well, but I long to come home.
Your attached son,
Ovind Thoresen Pladsen.
Dear Schoolmaster,
This is to ask you if you will be so good as to send the enclosed letter, but be sure and say nothing about it to anybody. If you will not, then it must be burnt.
Ovind Thoresen Pladsen.