There is not to be found a more thorough impersonation of his own
theology than a Scotch schoolmaster of the rough old-fashioned type.
His pleasure was law, irrespective of right or wrong, and the reward of
submission to law was immunity from punishment. He had his favourites
in various degrees, whom he chose according to inexplicable directions
of feeling ratified by "the freedom of his own will." These found it
easy to please him, while those with whom he was not primarily pleased,
found it impossible to please him.
Now there had come to the school, about a fortnight before, two
unhappy-looking little twin orphans, with white thin faces, and bones
in their clothes instead of legs and arms, committed to the mercies of
Mr Malison by their grandfather. Bent into all the angles of a
grasshopper, and lean with ancient poverty, the old man tottered away
with his stick in one hand, stretched far out to support his stooping
frame, and carried in the other the caps of the two forsaken urchins,
saying, as he went, in a quavering, croaking voice,
"I'll jist tak them wi' me, or they'll no be fit for the Sawbath aboon
a fortnicht. They're terrible laddies to blaud (spoil) their claes!"
Turning with difficulty when he had reached the door, he added:
"Noo ye jist gie them their whups weel, Master Mailison, for ye ken
that he that spareth the rod blaudeth the bairn.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231