Mrs Becher's Diary


Michael Rolfe

I think I shall always remember Micky. He was a very small boy when I first came to Tylers Green but even then he stood out from other children; perhaps because of his delicious curly head and those bright eyes, taking in everything and seeming to store it all in his quick brain – perhaps because of a latent strength of character that even then showed itself and which was to make him as he grew older a leader among his fellows.

He possessed that strange power which is given only to a few – the power to attract those around him to follow where he led. It was noticeable all through his short life and yet with it went a deep shyness and reticence which made it difficult for those older than himself to show the affection which all who came into contact with Micky, felt for him.

Gifted as he was, he hated to feel that there was no work for him to do and the tragedy of his death lies partly in the fact that he worried so much about it and yet it was no fault of his, rather the fault of the times in which we live.

But in spite of his own feelings and all through that side time, there was always the cheery look _ the delightful breaking smile which was one’s greeting as one met the tall thin figure passing up and down through the village.

Then later, after months of suffering, when he knew he could not live, he met the end with the same gay courage with which he had faced the world.

The lesson that was read on Monday, March the 26th 1934, as his body was laid to rest on a gorgeous spring afternoon, seemed to speak of that tremendous hope that will wipe the tears from all eyes: “These have come out of great tribulation and have washed their robes and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb”.