I pray that God may grant me sufficient skill in writing to express to my people in the old country what we know here in America.

Many people in my native land desire to immigrate to America. which they depict in their imagination as a land of great opportunity and a heaven on earth, just as I did before my arrival here.

My idea in coming to America was to go underground, into the mines to dig gold, and after spending some time in this labor, to return to the land of my fathers.

But I see now what a terrible mistake I made by not staying in the old country.

Life and work are very hard underground without light and air. But still it would not be right to speak against this rich, beautiful and free country, which 2gives equal rights to poor and rich, strong and weak.

But for us Serbians this land is cold, and our life here is miserable for many reasons.

We immigrants must forget all that we have learned, and we must so to speak be born again and transport ourselves to another world.

Because we do not know English, we must work hard to learn it; for English is harder than stone. No language in the whole world is more difficult. Americans speak like toothless old women, like cows chewing hay. Both ears must be kept wide open if you want to understand anything. Your mouth must be twisted, and your tongue squeezed in order to pronounce English words properly. If one is looking for a job and does not have a friend to help him, he may spend three whole years and travel a thousand miles without finding work, and God save him from utter destitution! When you are without work in America, you realize what mistake you made in leaving home. Suppose you get a job in a mine. Then you 3shall see how your health will be ruined, for mines are worse than prisons, and air has to be pumped into them by machinery. Rocks menace you with death, there is none of the sunshine that you love. Candles are forever burning; your eyes are blinded with smoke; poisonous gases fill your lungs. But even this is not the worst, for in summer the mines are filled with water.

After working in a mine, you will be glad to be a shepherd, eating only one meal a day but breathing the clear, pure air above ground.

In mines there is eternal night and darkness quickly kills your youth, depletes your energy, endangers your life, and destroys your ambition. We look like dead men, pale and weak.

Besides working underground, we must cook and do mending and laundering, and there is no time left for the joys of living. So you may see that the life of a miner is worse than the life of a soldier.

After so bitter an experience I no longer desire to gain gold but only to do something full of life and enjoyment. Let my work be in the sunshine, where there is plenty of pure air, even though the wages be small !

May this account of my experience help you be wise!