Author's Note: This letter was written for my history class. The assignment was to write a letter to anyone including a fictional character as if we were someone who worked in either the mines or in a factory. I'm not entirely positive on what I should rate this but i guess this might be T rated. Also, This has NOT been checked for grammar mistakes so no complaining!

June 6, 1823

Dear Kathryn,

My old childhood friend, I do sincerely hope you receive this letter in it's best condition. I planned to write to you sooner but much has occurred causing a setback. I've been working hard in the mine, my pale skin is slowly becoming a color I have not seen before, so grey and oil black. You cannot describe how awful the air is both in the mine and in the city. Unlike our wonderful sweet country air they have here demons that hover the skies and infest your mouth with bitter tastes that I may never forget of. This place is terrible, Kathryn, many children younger than us litter the streets. Starved faces that are alone and forced to somehow support themselves. How could anyone survive these horrid conditions? Our apartment is old and disfigured, my roommates are loud and obnoxious. The families we share the rooms with are just like us, country folk but in a different manner. We hardly bathe and our beds smell of month long work in rivers of sweat.

I, a mere child, am paid with such pitiful wages of only a few cents a day. Papa is paid more, as he is a man but Mama is paid not even a half of his wage same for my elder sister. We all work long hours; more than I can count, for exhaustion is all I have by quitting time. Also, we work everyday with the only exception being Sundays. The work itself is hard, we work every second none stop for we fear the brutal beatings from our supervisors. Papa says we must deal with what is given to us but I do not believe that he approves of these conditions we are forced to live with. My sister is being forced to wed and bare children now, her husband only a year older than she and she herself is only two years older than little ten year old me. Mama said that we will not live long under these circumstances therefore sister must wed now and bare at least one child soon. Mama said that I would be doing the same in one year's time maybe two. I long for the countryside, I do not wish to die so young nor do I want to live my youth as industry's slave. Papa and Mama are slowly fall ill, life in the city is so short, you are born a slave, forced to work in such wretched conditions, then slowly but surely wither away and die. I know not of when I will follow those before me who lived their lives like mine but I do know that I will follow nonetheless. I have no opinion in this, though I wish I did.

Thank you, Kathryn, for reading my letter. I may not be able to voice my beliefs but at least I know there is someone who is willing to listen to me. Please remember to write back, I would love to know how life back home is. Please send my regards to our friends.