A letter to my beloved in an 18th century debtor’s prison.

“Dearest Rebecca, it has been overlong since last I was blessed with the gift of your society and have felt the loss most keenly. Seven months you have now resided in that dreary environment, and seven months have I toiled away in the coal mines to support your family.

It shall gladden you to know that at the time of this letters creation I am in good health, as is your family. They have reconciled themselves to the loss of their father and their subsequent loss of you.

Alas, this state of matters cannot last. My funds are rapidly becoming exhausted. Without your aid I cannot possibly continue to provide bread to satisfy so many mouths. We need you dearest. We need you now.

I have wrote you before about my friend Alfred yes? He is a chemist at the local university who has on occasion visited my mine to collect certain elements for his experiments. This gentlemen has been a balm to the wounds of my soul as of late, and I owe him a great debt. Well now you shall share in my debt dearest, because he has hatched a plan.

Our comrade Alfred has concocted a certain way of mixing a certain kind of oil with acids to produce a most remarkable substance he calls trinitrotoluene. He believes this substance may be of use to us in our current sorry state of affairs. I cannot write more to you dearest concerning this matter in case this letter falls into the wrong hands. All I can say is that on the morrow, before the third crow of the rooster, you should lay beneath your bed with you head facing the door, and both of your hands should be employed to cover your head.”