I'm writing a letter from Roger to Mrs. Jones, for the story "Thank You, M'am". It has to sound like Roger, but only older and wiser, and how her kindness has affected him and his future.
Dear Mrs. Jones,
Well, if it isn't the one and only Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones! Goodness, you have not a clue how pleased I were to have finally searched you up.
'Tis a shame I never got a chance to give my thanks the day you took me in, cleaned me up, and fed me. Since then, my life hasn't been the same. I'm older, more mature now, and I learned to make smarter decisions for myself. I took the ten dollars you gave me, and bought the blue suede shoes. Then it hit me. I could've done so much more with my life.
I was right.
I took that money and bought painting supplies, and displayed my talents publicly. Since then, I got discovered by a scout, and I moved to London, England to formally study fine arts. My paintings have sold for quite a lot of money, so I continued to recreate myself from there.
Mrs. Jones, I hope that you are well, because I am! I'm truly grateful towards what you do for me that night, and for not turning me in. I'm glad I got a second chance. As for my promise... don't you worry. I never picked another pocket again.
Best Regards,
Roger.
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Please feel free to make any changes to make it sound like early 1900's slang. (This story takes place in Harlem, New York)
Dear Mrs. Jones,
Well, if it isn't the one and only Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones! Goodness, you have not a clue how pleased I were to have finally searched you up.
'Tis a shame I never got a chance to give my thanks the day you took me in, cleaned me up, and fed me. Since then, my life hasn't been the same. I'm older, more mature now, and I learned to make smarter decisions for myself. I took the ten dollars you gave me, and bought the blue suede shoes. Then it hit me. I could've done so much more with my life.
I was right.
I took that money and bought painting supplies, and displayed my talents publicly. Since then, I got discovered by a scout, and I moved to London, England to formally study fine arts. My paintings have sold for quite a lot of money, so I continued to recreate myself from there.
Mrs. Jones, I hope that you are well, because I am! I'm truly grateful towards what you do for me that night, and for not turning me in. I'm glad I got a second chance. As for my promise... don't you worry. I never picked another pocket again.
Best Regards,
Roger.
---
Please feel free to make any changes to make it sound like early 1900's slang. (This story takes place in Harlem, New York)