Kit was a shooting star. Kit seems, for all his puffing, innocent in comparison.
I am writing now about his first years away from home. He really was a kid. He was only a year or so older than my daughter. He had lived at home before that, his school days were long, he had to slog through an awful lot of Latin. Boys were also expected to help at home. He would have had wood and water to fetch, and other tasks for his parents. He got one day off a week. He spent it at church.
So then to Cambridge. There, to my surprise, he was not allowed to do anything! No speaking English, no clowning around. No leaving the campus, no bright colors. Lots of Latin. Hebrew and Greek too. Maybe he liked the study of other languages. Too bad if he did not, no choice. Beatings scheduled for public observation every Wednesday afternoon. He was a clever poor boy with an attitude already. When I see him in his heart he is always skinny and shivering. I want to hug him. I love WS, and he had some real sadness in his life, but I don't feel the urge to hug him.