April 9, 1865 pg 1

Norway. April 9th 1865.

My Friend Harry,

Your good letter of
20th and 21st ult, was very gladly received
yesterday morning, and with what I
consider most commendable promptness
I attempt an answer. By reference to
my diary I find that I wrote to you
just three weeks ago today, and I
remember too that the snow was quite
deep at that time. Now I cannot
see a particle look which way I will!
The road is dry and dusty, the grass
has assumed a decided tinge of green,
the birds sing sweetly among the
fresh young buds of the naked tree tops,
and they tell me that the frogs have
been piping merrily the past two evenings
but I've not heard them -- much to
my regret. Every thing gives promise
of the approaching summer, which I