“Oh yes, Dominie!”
“I repeat it,—well known; and more especially so on account of the good moral tone which prevails there,—I mean, of course, in my school. Religion and virtue are put foremost. I could show you verses on such subjects that—but I will pass over that for the present. Let it suffice you to know that my school is known as far as ... what do I say?—I have even taught the son of a resident in Wittenburg,[[13]]—a block-maker he was—and once, indeed, I was consulted in writing as to what was to be done with a boy whose father lived no nearer than Muiderberg!”
“Very good, Dominie!”
“Yes, Juffrouw Pieterse! I am still in possession of the letter—which I could show you if I chose; the man was a sexton, and the youth had fallen into a sad habit of drawing unseemly figures on the tombstones—but just on that account—I mean for the sake of the religion and virtue for which I am so well known—I feel it my duty to take this opportunity of informing you that I do not choose to see the good name of my school ruined by means of that good-for-nothing rascal of a son of yours, who stands there!”
Poor Wouter was aghast. That sounded very unlike the appointment he had been dreaming of—brigand-in-chief to the Pope of Rome,—which, however, he no longer desired, having thought of a different position which would suit him better.
His mother was about to proceed to what she called “her religion,” and administer chastisement on the spot, in order to satisfy the Dominie, and show him that, in her house, too, religion and sound morals had the first place. But the schoolmaster thought it better to inform the company what was toward, and thereby bring the culprit to a deeper sense of his delinquencies.
“Your son, Juffrouw Pieterse, belongs to the class of robbers, murderers, and fire-raisers!” ...
No more than that!
“Gracious goodness! Merciful justice! What next! Oh! my gracious patience! How is it possible? What human beings have to endure!” Something like this—for I will not answer for textual accuracy—was the flood of exclamations which overwhelmed the ten-year-old robber, murderer, and fire-raiser. Poor Wouter!
“I will read you a piece in his own handwriting,” said the Dominie, “and any one who, after this, can still doubt the utter depravity of this boy——”