I am 13 years old, and my name is Victoria. I was born, and presently live in Boston, but my family came here from England to start a new life for themselves, and soon their family; me. I walk around my city, my home, and I observe that many different people of many different backgrounds reside in my town with me. I names like Puritans, and Quakers, and I often wonder why we are all the same, but labeled differently. My mother tells me that we all have different labels, but we all worship the same God. We are Puritans. Day by day my mother teaches me the words in a giangantic book called the Bible. We must follow, and obey all the words that God has written for us in this one book. My father works as a fisherman, and he is our “leader”. He provides our family with the resources we need to survive, and my mother provides us with the words we need to live by. If someone breaks a rule in the thick book that God wrote us, they must be punished. My parents have made it pretty clear to me to follow all of the rules, and nothing harsh will happen to me. I have heard of people being stoned, and embarassed in front of everyone for breaking the rules. I have also heard talk to people being hung to death for breaking the more serious rules that need to be followed. My mother told me that one of the reasons her, and my father sailed seas to Boston was because they wanted to be free to practice any religion they prefered. The puritans have taken over the government here in Boston, and made religion their laws. This being said, my mother, and father wanted a new home, and a new life, and they are embracing the new religion with their hearts. It has grown on them, and they live by the words on the pages of the Bible now. Many of the colonist felt that even before the war began, that they were living differently then those were in England. (Davidson, Gienapp, & Heyrman,