Then was witnessed a spectacle which was not uncommon in that class of schools—a man trying to beat what he called "human depravity" out of a child, just as a housemaid beats the dust out of a dirty carpet. But, in this case, the man failed in his task. The boy frequently writhed as the cutting stripes fell upon him; but he shed not a single tear, and kept his teeth resolutely clenched; and at every interval when he was asked if he was not sorry, he kept repeating the phrase, "it's no true." At last the master, puffing and perspiring, was obliged to give in and sit down; and the small culprit stood before him, red and dishevelled, but unsubdued.
"Go out of this school," panted forth, at last, the defeated pedagogue; and the little lad, with a dignity beyond his years, took up his cap and books, walked to the door, and deliberately shut it behind him. He took the same way by which he had come in the early morning; and he carried out his determination not to cry, till at the turning of the road, he unexpectedly caught a glimpse of the loch. Then, before he was aware, an uncontrollable paroxysm of grief came on, and when he arrived at home he was sobbing hysterically. At first, he could not tell his mother what was wrong; and it was only by persistent questioning that she extracted from him all the details of the disaster. She was struck dumb with consternation, and she could only wash his face, brush his hair, and lay him down to rest on her own bed. But when the family assembled at dinner, the horror which his crime excited found expression. "It was an awfu' like thing," said the mother, "to contradick the maister."
"Contradickin' the maister," said the father, "that was the least o't; it was contradickin' the Word o' God."
"I wonder what the neibours will say," skirled the sister, "and Sawbath the Sacrament. I'll never be able to gang forrit."
"It should be threshed oot o' him," growled the brother.
"And that's exactly what I'll dae," said the father; "bring the strap."
The mother, however, was instantly up in arms. She was in general an obedient wife; but here her obedience found its limit. "'Tweel," she cried, "ye'll dae naething o' the kind. The bairn's been hashed enough already. The bluid's barkened on his skin, and his serk's stickin' to his back;" and she took him in her arms as if to protect him.
Next morning his father told him that he must go back to the school and apologise to the master; but that look of determination came again into his youthful face, and he said, "No, I'll no gang." The father got hold of the strap, seized him by the collar, and was about to flog him; but stopped when he said, "Ye may kill me, but I'll no gang." The father was startled and half afraid at this unprecedented rebellion. It was something eerie and uncanny. He did not know what it might lead to. He therefore desisted, and throwing the boy aside, said—