Dear LO colleague C. Hilser,
Mmmm. I used to sit of an evening with his grandson who happened to live
about one hundred yards (metres) away from me, his name was Edward. He
worked as a missionary for some years and used to be found either in
London, in his little rented room here in North Moreton or roundabout
making very indifferently modest watercolours of local houses and general
scenes. He had some very strange ideas... he shared with me...and some he
did not! People in my locality collect (hoard) his work, though not
because of what it is, not even because of who he was, but because of who
his mighty grandfather was.
A 'name' can be as much a curse as an inspiration, may your adoption of
his name be a blessing to you in all your struggles.
Every morning 'Bucket' and I walk by his grave. At his funeral the small
church was 'bursting'...now no-one comes anymore to be with him.
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