Dear Papa Preston Blake, I write this letter to you to inform you I have left the city without notifying you. I am writing to you from the New World. When I was asked to join this voyage I didn’t hesitate in saying yes. I am writing to you from my house in front of a farm plot of my own. In the past few days we have gotten in some battles with the native people of this strange land. Apart from that, the life I live here is much better than the one you live ‘’papa’’. I don’t have to work my ass off to earn just enough to buy a miserable piece of bread.
Here I plant my own food and live of the good land there is. I would encourage you to leave behind that miserable life you have back in the Old World, and catch a boat here to the New World. You will notice a change in your pockets, and most of all, you will be able to breathe with all the space there is over here. Enough talking about how good life is here, now let me tell you about these native Indians. First of all, I have noticed they are getting sick and dying off. I don’t understand why their people are being devastated by these diseases.
The diseases have clearly helped us gain more land without having to fight them in long battles. We are trying to teach them about Christianity and religion, though they have their own beliefs. I have also noticed these native people didn’t know about most of the animals we have back home. They also have no clue of what a farm is, so we are going to teach them how to domesticate animals and grow crops in farm plots. Well papa, I’m running out of ink, let me know if you’re coming so I can make arrangements to get you some land to start off with. Sincerely, Oliver.