The Master

“Good morning, Ms. Baker” said all the children as I walked into the room, feeling the warmth of the heater combining with the cold breeze from outside. As I take off my jacket, I hear some giggling in the back of them room and whispering in the front, as if they don’t know that I am listening. The next thing you know, I am in the front of the room exactly in the center with a ruler in my hand about to tell them their punishment.

“Oh how I hate teaching these children,” I say with a serious face. Just seeing children who misbehave is the best part of my day because then I can give them one of my greatest punishments– and that will scare them for life. Most of the time when I am teaching I look around the room for students who are misbehaving than actually teaching them. As I slowly walk to the two students in the front row, pretending that they were not doing anything I give them both a smack with the ruler. Then I begin to head to the back of the room with my ruler and give them a smack too. As I was walking back to the center of the room to begin my lesson I was stopped by one of my students Helen who ran into the classroom late. “Helen, why are you late? you know what will happen when you are late, do you?” I said with a strict voice. “You will have to stay in school later and clean the chalk board, and no buts.” As Helen walked to her desk, I walked to my desk and began my lesson.

“Class, please take out your slate. We will be working on arithmetic.” Arithmetic is very important for my students to learn. Usually I tell my students to solve the problems that I say aloud and then have them write it on their slates. “Class, what is four plus six equal to?” I say with a strict voice. After I say the problem I then ask my students to say the answer orally. “Abigail, please tell me the answer to problem number 1.” I am prepared to give the student a punishment.

“Is it 13?” Abigail says in a quiet and hesitant voice.

Since I am already prepared to give Abigail the punishment of the dunce cap, I say to her, “Wrong, wrong, wrong, now you will have to wear the dunce cap.” Then I came up with another math problem for my students, which is, ” What is three times two?” Everyday at least once I give a student a punishment.

But this time I called on Catherine and she says in a confident tone, “Six is the answer.” After arithmetic class ends, I then have to teach other classes, including grammar. “Oh how I can’t wait till the day ends, so then I can go home and sleep,” I say in a exhausted voice. Usually in class I taught my students how to write the alphabet and read small sentences. Then I gave my students an assignment, which is, “Class, take out your primer and copybook.” While the students are taking out their tools, I am going to teach my children the alphabet of the day, which is the letter F. Everyday I ask the children to look at their primer and write the letter F. During this class I usually walk around the room and watch the children write down the letters down in script. After class is finished I ask the students to get their things and leave the room in a single filed line. If you are one of the students who misbehaves, like Catherine, then I make the student stay until I want them to leave. “aahhh. I am so glad this day is finished. Now I can go home.”

The Students

1.

Hello my name is Mary, I am a European girl in the lower class. Today I am going to learn how to read, write, and do arithmetic. My day usually begins with waking up, doing chores like feeding the animals, working in garden or in the farm and then having a meal with my family. After my whole family finishes our meal we then head out to the fields and work till it gets dark. When it gets to dark to see, then that’s when my family would have our meal and have free time. Most of my free time I learn from my mother about how to read, write and do arithmetic. A tool that really helps me learn is a Primer. Everyday I use my Primer to learn the alphabet and practice memorizing verses from the Bible. There are many ways my mother taught me how to write. One way I was taught to write was to use a material called a slate and repeat writing a letter until I memorize it. Another way my mother taught me was making me sew the letter into a piece of fabric. A tool that helps me practice my counting is a game called Mancala. Mancala was a helpful tool because not only is it a fun way to learn math, it also helped me work on thinking of strategies. Since I am a girl, I learn different things than a boy does. Besides learning the basics, I also learned how to maintain a house.

2.

I am a Native American girl in early America. Everyday I am either working and helping my family or learning from my mother. Since I am a girl who does not learn in a school, I learn very different things than a girl in school. I would from my mother how to cook, sew, identify plants and many other things that had to do with maintaining a house. I have a mother, father and a little sister. If my mom could not teach my younger sibling then it was up to me to teach her.

3.

I am either going to school and learning or helping my mother around the house. Since I am 12 years old, I go to a Finishing school, instead of a Dame school. In early America finishing schools were only for girls above the age of 9. Finishing schools are like middle schools.  Many of the lessons the master taught us were about how to maintain a house. In addition, I learn the basics which are reading, writing and arithmetic.

4.

I am a student who is in the Upper class. I am 12 years old and since I am above the age of 9 I go to a Finishing school. In class I learn many of the basics and how to maintain a house. Many of the basics I learn are reading, writing and arithmetic. When I am learning how to maintain a house I learn how to sew, cook and clean the house. Since I have different classes, I also use different materials. A few materials I use are a hornbook, slate and a primer.

A Day in the Life of the Governor’s Cook

Dear Journal,

Today I am going to meet my new cooke maids and couldn’t be more exited. It has beene 3 days since i’ve had maids and, well it’s a lot of work to do all by myself. I know I shouldn’t have fired them but they have been quite inefficient on the job. Oh pity lorde, please release me of this burdene.

Dear Journal,

It twas nice meeting the new maids, they are fine young woman and harde workers. But I have not beene having the best day. I was going into the gardene and I saw two indians frolicking like dogs in the back on the gardene grabbed a pan it twas the only thing in my sight and started to run after the two salvages, they got away. It’s harde to think that on minute I could be harvesting crops and the next being under attack.

Dear journal,

Earlier today I was at the market and i met this 10 year old boy, he talked well and was like an adult. I always thought kids were just well babies but it turns out there people to.

Dear journal,

Its the 16th ThanksGiving and the Governor has all his colleagues, friends, and family over and he’s throwing a big party with a lot of food. I hah 15 maids working today and we just finished. The Governor has even allowed me and my wife to eat with him. Thank god he is a good man, I have had many governors and he is best by far. By god it is already time to go, ill tell you haw it went tomorrow!    

Dear journal,

Last night was one of the best ones i’ve had in a while. I haven’t left home yet but I hear my son snoring, he ready to go to school. he wants to be a glass blower but I push for him to be a cook, specifically the governors cook because he does have a connection, he would make so much more money if he would only listen to me. God bless him. I slowly teach him more everyday and he is taking to it, I really want him to take it on.

I am Zebulon. I am an inventor. I build things to help in Colonial America.  My father was Zephaniah the inventor. I took his workspace when he died and built a water refiner for our town. I make very little money because I am not famous like Benjamin Franklin and I only get paid when I sell my inventions to the town. My workspace is an attic over my mom’s store. My Mom is named Zophar. I spend a lot of the day writing blueprints that probably won’t leave this attic. If they do then it is most likely something to help the town survive. When I have a working invention I sell it in my mom’s store as a helpful device. Once this is done I go back to my attic and think about the next invention that I could build. Hmmmmm, time is passing and nothing is coming to mind… Maybe I can build a device that sends messages over long distances. I have an idea that if you stretch a long string far away, people could tug on it a certain number of times for each letter and send messages that way.

I wake up in the attic because all inventors live in attics. I think of a helpful new machine to build that could change how we do things today. I think about the needs of the people and what I could do for them. I know people are not getting enough food and people are starving so maybe i can build a machine that grinds corn or a machine that could clean water from the ocean. I start a water refining machine. It takes water into a pot and cooks it until it all turns into steam and the dirty stuff is left in the pot. The steam comes to another plant until it turns back to water, but without salt or dirt or mud. There is a pulley that has buckets that when turned pulls water out of the ocean and into a cooking pot, and when it reaches the next pot it can be scooped out by any person and people can drink water. I  go and attempt to convince the land owner to install one and if he does other people who are not from town might see it and want to buy their own and i can patent it. Now people are not allowed to buy them from people who are not me. Now people walk into my shop constantly seeing if they can install one in their farms and I give it a high price.

Hello, my name is Tabitha Holmers, I am a milliner in Williamsburg. I own a small millinery making dresses, cloaks, shoes, coats, and much more, for local residents of Williamsburg. As a milliner I work from sunlight to sunset. I get to encounter many different people in many different social backgrounds.

The millinery is a small, comfortable, working space but sometimes it cam get crowded here in the millinery because some clothing such as petticoats and gowns are quite large. I have a bad habit of losing materials which is bad because when I order new materials from England, it takes six months just for the package to arrive here in Virginia.

          I was thinking about what kind of coat I should make next when a rich European woman walks into my shop. I ask her what she wants to buy and she tells me she wants new formal wear. Formal wear is complicated to make because formal wear comes in many different parts. The first thing I do is measure her. After I measure her, I put a corset around her waist. A corset is a tight, fitted, tank top. After her corset is on, I reach over the counter and pick up a very large petticoat. A petticoat is a type of skirt that is usually used to be layered under a gown. I tie the large, ballon like, petticoat around her waist. After the petticoat is in place, I carefully pull out a gown and pull it over her head. She picks out some heeled, leather shoes and she is done getting dressed. She pays me and leaves.

            As a milliner, I am in the middling class. I make around 35 pounds a year. Williamsburg as a woman is really hard; I have to work extra hard to make enough money to keep the millinery open.

When I first got married to my husband, I worked at the tailors. After I got married I made enough money to open my own millinery but I was married to legally, my millinery belonged to my husband. I pay most of the taxes but he pays some and since the millinery is legally his, he gets some input to the businesses, trades, and prices at the millinery. I sometimes think that it isn’t fair that just because I am a woman I can’t own my own business but that’s the way things happen around here.

“Can I have 35 of the least expensive shirts in here?” It was a tall man in a black hat and brown cloak. I ask him why and he tells me it’s for his slaves. “Can I also have 3 gowns and 7 vests and trousers? There for my house slaves.” I give him 35 scratchy and uncomfortable-looking shirts, 7 gowns and 3 men’s outfits. He pays and leaves. He’s probably going to give the uncomfortable shirts to his field hands and the formal wear for his house slaves. He wants to give his house slaves fancier clothing than the field hands because the house slaves are in his house and in his presence more.

Xavier

The Hard Life Of A Pirate

       The ship keeps shaking and I can’t fall asleep. Thunder crackles and the lightning snaps. Everyone else has trouble sleeping too but we stay in our beds hoping we will fall asleep. Every once in a while someone talks and wiry laughs come right after. Rotten fruits roll and the floor and some jump up when the ship hits a wave. Lets just say I am fortunate to have a top hammock.

       Morning comes and I am lucky to just get a couple hours of sleep. The storm calmed down around after midnight. The whole crew can rarely get out of bed, but they know they must or they would get in trouble. Captain Blackbeard is very scary. Everyone aboard the ship fears him. He commands a solid dozen of us crew members to swab the deck which means clean it. A large towel and bucket with salt water is given to me. I work from morning to noon and thats when lunch is given to me. I’m handed to one orange. I am so hungry that I eat the peelings.

       I am given some spare time. A short 15 minutes. I pull my suitcase from storage where I hide it behind the powder barrels. I pull a sharp piece of metal from my suitcase along with a large hollowed bone. I think the bone is a use to belong to a whale. It was being sold at a stand when I stole it.

       I have already started carving my bone. I picture a town and many ships docking next to it. But I am no artist though so my picture is very bland and boring but it is still something I can do to pass the time. I am just finishing the second ship the biggest one, but that’s when I hear a bell. This sound is new to me though. I have never heard this bell. I put all my belongings in the suitcase and hide it in its original hiding place.

       I go upstairs and ask captain Blackbeard, “What’s the emergency!”

He replies with a stern voice, “An English ship about a mile ahead. Andrew still trying to get to the Caribbean to resupply and if we try to evade the English then we will lose the wind and we won’t be at our destination on time for we only have few supplies. So we are forced to get ready for battle.

       I am assigned at the bottom level cannons. I meet a youngster, around 16. He is assigned at a cannon next to me. He asks me my name, I answer, “Samuel, but everyone calls me Sam”. He doesn’t answer and we see the enemy ships close through the small wooden slits that are supposed to be windows.

My name is Hester and I am a slave on a Gentry plantation. I wake up the moment the sun goes up to have a small breakfast with my family and the rest of the slaves on my plantation. I live in a small cabin like home on the edge of the plantation, very close to the fields we work on. I share the one room home with Mother, Father, my brothers Henry, Thomas, William, George and Jacob, Aunt Bertha, Uncle John and my cousins Solomon, Emanuel, Abraham and Linus. We have to spend a lot of time together, so we have become very close. Mother, Aunt Bertha, George, Jacob, Linus and I work in the Indigo field. Father, Uncle John and the rest of my brothers and cousins all work in the Tobacco fields. The plantation owner will often make my father or my uncle sleep in the tobacco barn to keep the tobacco safe at night.

    Once, my father’s friend had to sleep in the tobacco barn, but a raccoon came in and ate some of the tobacco, our master was so mad that he sold my father’s friend the first chance he got. No one wanted to buy him at first, but then he was sold to a plantation in up North. I think that the reason he wasn’t bought right away is because no one wants an untrustworthy worker, Mother agrees with me.

    At around noon, we take a break to eat lunch, our lunch is very small, but we have to like it because it’s all we’ve got the next six hours. During fancy events or parties, my mistress, Mrs.Moore, will have me and my oldest brothers, Henry and Thomas, serve food, she says it’s because my brothers are tall and well built and because I am the only girl who is just old enough to seem like an adult (without being one) and just tall enough to fit in her daughter, Phoebe’s, old clothes. When I serve at the parties, I learn many knew things and I get to see many good things. Phoebe is a very terrible singer, but every one tells her that she sings like an “angel”, I find this offensive to angels. I wonder why no one will tell her the truth. Once Phoebe asked me if I thought she was a good singer, I was going to tell her the truth, but then my brother told me not to, so I lied. Mother always told me that lying was a sin, so afterwards I prayed to God and asked him to forgive me and to fix Phoebe’s horrible singing. I guess God is angry with Phoebe or didn’t hear me, because she is still a horrible singer.

        My mother is a 3rd generation American, but Father only came over when he was 10, he will often tell us stories of freedom and life in Angola, his home. Father tells us many stories, some of them he will tell to us in Portuguese, his first language, but one story he always tells us is the story of the day he was captured (he always tells it to us on Christmas), it goes something like this. It was a rainy day in my home, the fog was thick, you couldn’t see past where you hand reached. Despite the weather, my friends and I still wanted to go play games. We played for what felt like hours, when suddenly five large men who looked like mountains had surrounded us. “Execute! Execute!” someone shouted “Run!Run!”. No matter how fast we tried to run, the men had surrounded us completely. They chained us together and forced us to walk for miles. Everyone was complaining, “Meus pés doem!” “Minhas pernas doem!” “Eu não posso ir mais longe!” If the men heard you complaining, you would get your chains tightened. We walked until sunrise. There was a large ship, we were all loaded onto it and packed into the cargo hold. That was the day I discovered there wasn’t a good God, only the devil, changing and tampering with fate in the bowels of Hell, he has corrupted us all. At which point Mother (who is very sad at this point) come to bring us out to visit our grandparents, who live on the other side of the plantation. Mother believes that God brought Father over so he could make her and her family happy, Father will just smile and kiss her hand, he knows she is right.

    Father denies Christianity and the existence of a God because he says that “If there were a God, and if he was a Christian, we would all be free” Mother counters by saying “Because God is good, we are free. Our physical being may be bound to our masters, but our souls are free” at which point, Father will simply shake his head or grunt and go back to work, he’s lost.

     Everyday of my life since I was 6 has been the same routine, wake up, eat, work, eat, work, eat, work, sleep, repeat. On Sunday, we have no work at all because it is a holy day. My mother and the rest of my family will often go by a river or stream to pray because it is more peaceful. My father will spend the day playing cards or cleaning, he says that he refuses to worship, mush less pray to what is merely a seed that has been planted in the heads of mankind that only the foolish and the week tend to, the wise and strong will let that seed die. Mother disagrees by saying “By accepting that there is something larger than ourselves out there with little proof, we are making ourselves vulnerable, we are the strong and brave ones.” This debate has yet to come to a close.

    Our master, Mr.Moore, is a foolish man and a drunkard. He spends his mornings sleeping, his afternoons trying to get people to like him, and his evenings drinking. Sometimes, he would skip sleeping and  trying to get people to like him and just go straight to drinking.

    Mr.Moore is an obnoxious drunk. Three years ago, he once became so drunk that he set our sugarcane field on fire after he became jealous of his brother-in-law’s three sons. We had to spend the entire night putting the fire out and cleaning out the ashes, we worked until the sun came up. Mr. Moore was greatly hungover the next day, he gave us all the day off to go into the market. Since no one was in the fields, our crops became ill and dry in the hot summer sun and we had to burn all the fields down anyway. That was the year that Richard died.

      Richard was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Moore, he was eleven. When we were young, he and my brothers would secretly play together, he was kind and he listened to them. Richard impossible to hate, even mother thought he was kind. Richard was killed in a hunting accident, Mr.Moore shot him in the shoulder. It was to deep, to much blood. We heard it, we heard the gun, the screams. They made us keep working through it all. Richard was pronounced dead by the doctors an hour later.

    Mr. Moore blames himself for killing Richard, and blames his wife for not being able to have another son. So, Mr.Moore takes it upon himself to make all of our live miserable. I know he is cruel and unkind, but I pity him.

My Life as a Soldier

I am a soldier in the colonial military. My name is Fredrick Smith, and since I am a 20 year old boy, this is my first year that I can apply for the military. In England I was a poor boy, so I came to the New World, hoping that I could have a better life. My family did not have a trade that I could learn from them, so I had no special skills for a job in Virginia. So the only way I could think of that I could contribute to society and make a living, was to join the army. I am starting out as a member of the infantry, so I will be given a musket and a sword.

The military life is harder than I thought it would be. There is much intense training every day. The training lasts all day and there are many drills, such as building barricades in the morning, and the manual of arms in the afternoon. The living conditions are harsh as well. I live in a small tent that is shared with six other soldiers. There always seems to be a sickness going around, and as we all lived packed together in one small tent. All the waste holes that we must dispose of our bodily waste are not exactly spaced out very well from our tents. To make things worse, I am constantly worried about the constant attack of the savage and furious Indians. “THE SAVAGES! THE SAVAGES ARE COMING!” I am exhausted from these attacks and battles with the Native Americans. I cannot wait until we can claim this land for our own.

Day in the life of a Statesmen…

Bong, Bong, the agonizing sound of the early 6 o’clock bell. Minutes pass. I pull myself up with much pain. I’ve been awakening early in the morning for many years now but I still can’t force myself up. I groan, “eugh” I get out of the bed. I ring the bell calling the footman to prepare dinner downstairs. Still in my bed gown I continue to my dressing room. I slip on my white shirt, vest, cravat, and tailcoat of the statesmen attire. I pull on my boots and begin to walk down the ornate staircase of Plantas Manor. Over 1,000 acres of land, plants and homesteads, it is one of the largest plantations in Virginia. In the heart of the land stands the manor, a house built by the most acclaimed architects of our time. Built out of white marble, granite, and dozens of woods and metals. I stride into the break fast room and seat myself at the head of the table. The footman enters with a platter of assorted fruits, three small hens, and a variety of breads, vegetables, and cakes.

“Tell Johnson to prepare the coach” I say to the footman.

He nods “Of course my lord”

I get up with the Williamsburg Gazette under my arm. The morning is still gray and hazy. The great wooden doors open with a swoosh and I step outside. I soft drizzle lands tenderly on my face and I smile for a moment.

“The coach is ready my lord”

“Of course”

             The horses whinny and the coach rocks into motion. As we ride I look out the window to see the next plantation’s slaves working in the fields the hoes digging into the earth and the shovels lifting out the dirt covered in morning dew. I girl of only nine years turns to me in my majestic coach and for one moment I wish I could go to their master and whip every single man who denies god’s people their freedom. I stand in grandeur  each day were as they work in the fields and are whipped each day. Is this god’s will. No it is not, and it never will be. We continue and we enter the the bustling streets of Williamsburg. The coach comes to a stop. I look out the window to see the huge brown tower of The House of Burgesses. I leave the coach and enter the house. The huge wooden doors creak open and I stride into the house. I am greeted by the mostly hostile yells of statesmen discussing and debating. I go to the statesmen stand.

“The floor recognizes Solomon Plantas…”

“Gentlemen, today we stand to vote. To vote on freedom…”

Yells come from the stands

“Go home slave lover”

“Boooo!!!”

I speak louder ” That every person- no matter the color of their skin shall not be the property of any other man.”

“Go to hell!” a men shouts

“Back where ya came from!”

A man spits at me.

“Get off the stand!” they chant.

I step down. I turn to James Madison, my cohort.

“There is no way to pass this with this heap of scoundrels.

“Meeting Ajourned!” the governor calls.

We get up, I say good day to Madison and step outside. My next order of business is to meet with the surgeon Dr. Chimers. I walk down the Duke Glouster street to the hospital. I see two men unloading stretchers containing wounded soldiers. I nod to the doctors and proceed upstairs.

“Ah Dr. Winthrop”

He turns to me,

“Sir, a new troop of wounded soldiers coming back from Indian attacks just arrived.”

“The poor men. I’m just looking for Dr.Chimers.”

“He’s just down the hall”

“Good day” I nod and walk down the hall. I open the first door.

Dr.Chimers stands over a bleeding soldier bandaging his arm.

“My sir. How can I be of any assistance.”

“Dr, I’m just looking for the medical reports of last week, the house needs them.”

Oh of course” he goes into a small room and returns in a few minutes holding two papers.

“Here they are”

“Thank you, good day.”

I leave for I must return to the House of Burgesses for my final meetings.

        It is already dark when I step outside the House of Burgesses it’s about 6 pm most people are stopping work unlike me for I can afford candles. I walk down the streets of Williamsburg and turn into my local tavern. I am to meet with another statesmen. Many of us burgesses meet in taverns to hold conferences.  Some lanterns are lit already and the tavern smells strongly of tobacco and drink. I go to the main desk

“A tavern conference room for Solomon Plantas, I have a reservation.”

He leads me into a large white room where the statesmen already waits.

” I’m glad you could make it”

We talk late into the night. I leave happily after gaining five votes for my bill from the statesman. The coach is ready so I depart immediately. We arrive at 11:30 and I retire for the night. I finish the papers I need to work on and then leave for bed. I walk up to my study and begin to work on my bill. I light another candle after the old one goes out. I’m so tired and my eyes are so happy, perhaps I shall just sleep for a few minutes, then I’ll just finish my work. I hear two knocks on the door and wake up with a start.

“Sir”

It’s just the maid bringing more firewood and a candle.

“Oh thank you.” I get up.

She puts down the fire wood and lights the candle. As she is leaving she turns to me.

“I hope your bill is passed sir, I really do”

“Thank you, I hope so too.”

I turn to my desk and see that if all representatives of the people would vote for me, I would still be two votes short.

I hope so too…

 

A breeze awakens me.  The floor boards crunch beneath my feet as I get out of bed.  My footsteps trail into the kitchen where I make my morning tea.  I raise the warm glass up to my lips as the soothing liquid fills my mouth with relaxation.  I put the glass down on the wooden table. I am about to take a bite of my toast when I hear a loud pounding on my door.  I slowly walk down to my workshop in the basement, the stairs beneath me are weary and old.  As I finally reach my destination at the bottom of the stairs they knock again.

“I’m coming!” I say as I walk towards the door, they knock again.  This aggravates me.

           “I said I’m coming!” I yell as I start to reach for the door handle, those lousy farmers always getting sick.  I open the door, purposely taking my time.  In front of me stands the governor of James Town!  

          “We’ll I’m sorry but I have never been yelled at like this before!”  He says, he is obviously very offended.  “I had no idea I was not welcome here, and if you act in heard this manner again, neither will you!”  He turns around and starts to walk away, “I’ll be back in two weeks, hopefully you’ve changed.”  He walks away and suddenly I feel like I’ve just been stepped on by everyone in the town.  Suddenly I was nothing.  I meant nothing.  The governor hates me, my best customer hates me.  My taxes will raise and salary will drop.  The busy streets have closed in on me.  I close the door.  Now, I am nothing.

        In my left ear I hear a loud bold knock, the same knock from before.  Filled with excitement I rush to the door.  When I open it my smile is smeared into a frown.  In front of me stands the lousy farmer again.  We talk for awhile about his family and how his farm is holding up.  Faking a smile is easy but pretending that you care about whatever the heck their talking about is a true skill.  I tell him to come in and he lays down on the table.  I ask him where he hurt him self and he tells me it’s his ankle.  I press down on his ankle and he squirms with pain.  Carefully I lift up his leg to get a closer look at his ankle.  Quickly he slaps my hand away and I drop his leg and he yells out in pain.  He apologizes and looks at me like its my fault.  

        “Is your leg hurting” I ask?   “We’ll it is now” he says like I’m some kind of idiot.  “I mean was it hurting before,” I ask?  “A little bit why?” He questions me.  “Oh, no reason. Does it hurt when I do this?”  I ask as I press two fingers on his leg bone.  He shrieks with pain, and nods.  “Your leg is broken” I say.   “Hopefully it has not gotten infected yet”.  I inform him I can also fix his leg for a few extra shillings.  He asks if it will be painful. I lie and say not at all.  I look at my clock it is five o’ clock, I’ve still got time.  I call for my apprentice who lives in a room downstairs.  Quickly he rushes into the room.  I tell him to hold down the patient.  The young man holds the farmer down against the table.  I hand the farmer a bullet and tell him to bite down on it.  He nods and puts the small iron ball in his teeth.  I go over to my medicine cabinet and pull out my tools.  I walk back to my patient and he flinches as I pull out my amputation knife.  I gently draw blood from his leg, it is thick and dark.

         “It’s infected,” I tell the farmer.  He does not answer but instead he nods and a tear rolls down his left cheek.  I look at the young apprentice, he nods and pushes down harder on the young farmers arms.  I raise the long knife into the air and he closes his eyes.  The curved knife digs into his flesh and he screams and squirms, but the young boy pushes down harder.  I quickly take out my bone saw and begin to cut into his bone.  He screams more and try’s to escape but the apprentice is a very strong young boy.  Finally I finish the surgery and I sew his leg up and cover it in bandages, I hand him a walking stick.  He puts my earnings down on the table and leaves without a word.  Harold my apprentice leaves as well to go to bed.  It is already seven o’ clock and is dark outside.  I cannot work late because I can’t afford candles so I go upstairs and eat the toast lying on the counter and then go to my bedroom.  I change into my night gown and get into bed.  Slowly I start to fall asleep.

I am a tavern owner, my name Malakia. Every morning I wake and check the barrels of beer, then make all the beds and count the money. Every day it’s the same thing just counting and counting and counting. But I can’t complain. I make a ton of money and there is always food for me and my family. There’s also the plus of having people cook for you. Every evening, I will walk around the tavern and make sure everything is fine, and then I will head up to my room and sleep. Even though my evening and morning seem boring I cant complain about the day, I meet tons of new people we play games and drink, sometimes friends come. As the tavern owner lots of people in the town will come to me for advice cause they all think of me as a friend. Sometimes i am lucky enough to meet very important people and serve them a drink. Most bosses at the time would be strict to their workers but I, am always nice to workers chefs and slaves alike, sometimes I would pay them extra Just for helping me clean up a broken glass.

The hardest part of my day is when I have to go to the farm and collect eggs and kill pigs. It may be dirty work, and some say I should get a slave to do it but I do it my self to earn their respect. I love my family most of all, they all help out around the tavern my youngest daughter will help clean up, and my wife and oldest daughter will help cook. Me and my sons greet guest at the door and drink and eat with them, we make them feel comfortable. My least favorite thing about being a tavern owner are the drunks, they come in drink all of my alcohol, don’t pay and them reck the place. Even though I don’t like to sometimes I will tell the minister and they will get punished. I also don’t like having to put their names up on my door, its ugly but its law, sometimes I will tip people who help keep them out. All in all I think that being a tavern owner is one of the best jobs thats available you have lots of friends and you are never poor.