February 13th, 1858

I know I haven't put much in this journal in a very long time. I'm not going to write in script because Im not that good at it. I dont want to mess up my journal. Mister Shirley wanted me to keep writing because he said I am good at it. He says I need to write more because I won't get into trouble if I do. He is a good teacher. Sometimes he caught me doing things I shouldn't do and he didn't turn me in. He says I should be a better man and not let the woes and tribalashuns of life get to me. He says I need to be a skolar and a gentelman. Mister Shirley is funny but I like him. He saw some of the stories I wrote and liked them. I didnt think a grownup would like them because they are about monsters and demons from the sky but he liked them. He says I'm going to be a good writer but that its sad that not many people here like good writers. I don't know. I haven't shown my writings to anyone else. I tried to show dad and he got mad at me which isnt a real suprise since he always mad at me. I found some old journals I wrote as a kid. I had to laugh. I wrote so bad back then. I'm much better now. Mister Shirley says I have a tongue for prose. I think he means I can write good. I hope so. I like him but I don't think I'll be able to be a writer here because things are weird here. The mines are starting to clear up and some people have started fighting over the good ones. Dad and I might be moving away I think but he won't tell me if we are or not. Dads real rich but I know he doesn't share it with people. I wish he did because there are so many people that are poor that live here. It is late and I need to go to bed. Or retire for the eve as Mister Shirley would say.