Walter Pieterse. Multatuli

at the time when Walter and Keesje were slowly crawling around the arena of honor; but I doubt if one could say much more of the "institutes" of to-day. I would advise everyone to visit such a school as he attended when a boy; and I am convinced that after this test many a father who has the welfare of his children at heart will prefer to keep them at home. One comes to the conclusion, that after all in the school of clever Master Miller, who was so clever that he got himself addressed as M'sieu Millaire, precious little was to be learned.

      Failing to make this test we continue to believe in the infallibility of M'sieu of Millaire. We always consider that one a great man whom we have known in childhood and haven't seen since.

      When I remarked a moment ago that school-teachers are paid so niggardly, I didn't mean that their remuneration was insufficient, considering the quality and quantity of the goods delivered—knowledge, scholarship, education. I only had in mind the bitterness of their lot, and the poor indemnity given to the man who spends his life in a wasp's nest.

      In addition to versifying, Pennewip had still another hobby, which gave him more claim to a throne than did anything else. He was possessed with the mania for classifying, a passion known to few, but still of not infrequent occurrence. I have never quite understood the disease; and I gave up my search for the "first cause" as soon as I saw how difficult it is to get around with a hobby-horse taken from somebody else's stable. So I am going to give only a short sketch of Pennewip's harmless animal.

      Everything that he saw, perceived, experienced he divided into families, classes, genera, species and sub-species, and made of the human race a sort of botanical garden, in which he was the Linne. He regarded that as the only possible way to grasp the final purpose of creation and clear up all obscure things, both in and out of school. He even went so far as to say that Walter's New Testament would have turned up again if Juffrouw Pieterse had only been able to tell to what class the man belonged who had bound the volume in black leather. But that was something she didn't know.

      As for myself, I shouldn't have said a word about Pennewip's mania for classifying everything, if I hadn't thought it might help me to give the reader a better picture of our hero and his surroundings. I should have preferred to leave the said Pennewip in undisturbed intercourse with the muses; but we shall have occasion later to refer to his poetic art, when we shall quote some poems by his pupils.

      After the usual general division into "animate" and "inanimate"—the good man gave the human race only one soul—followed a system that looked like a pyramid. On the top was God with the angels and spirits and other accessories, while the oysters and polyps and mussels were crawling about down near the base, or lying still—just as they pleased. Half way up stood kings, members of school-boards, mayors, legislators, theologians and D.D.'s. Next under these were professors and merchants who do not work themselves. Then came doctors of things profane, i.e., those driving double rigs, also lawyers and untitled preachers, the Colonel of the City Militia, the Rector of the Latin School. Philosophers (only those who have developed a system), doctors with one horse, doctors without any horse and poets were further down. Rather low down, and not far from the mussels, was the seventh sub-division of the third class of the "citizen population." Our hero would come under this sub-section.

      Citizen Population, Class III., 7th Sub-Division.

      People Living in Rented Flats.

      a. Entrance for tenants only. Three-window front. Two stories, with back-rooms. The boys sleep alone, dress, however, with the girls. Fresh straw in case a baby is born. Learning French, poems at Christmas. The girls are sometimes called Lena or Maria, but seldom Louise. Darning. The boys work in offices. One girl kept, sewing-girl, and "person for the rough work." Washing at home. Read sermons by Palm. Pickled pork on Sundays, with table-cloth, liquor after coffee. Religion. Respectability.

      b 1. Still three windows. One story. Neighbors live above who ring twice (Vide b. 2). Leentje, Mietje; Louise heard seldom. House-door opened with a cord, which is sleek from long use. Sleep in one room. Straw-heaps in cases of confinement. One maid-servant for everything. Sundays cheese, no liquor, but religion and respectability as above.

      b 2. Neighbors who ring twice. About as above. No maid, only a "person for the rough work." Seamstress. White table-cloth. Cheese from time to time, only occasionally. Religion as above.

      c. One story higher. Two-window front. Small projecting back-room. The entire family sleeps in two beds. No trace of straw. The boys are called Louw, Piet, or Gerrit, and become watchmakers or type-setters. A few become sailors. Continual wrangle with the neighbors about the waste-water. Religion as above. Associate with "respectable folk." Read "Harlemmer" with III. 7, b. 2. No maid, or person for rough work, but a seamstress on seven stivers and a piece of bread and butter.

      That brings us to Juffrouw Pieterse.

      The reader will now have a very good idea of Walter's environment, and will readily understand why I said he had a "city complexion." That was when we saw him in the Hartenstraat, on the road to fame, or on the road to that nameless "other thing" of Juffrouw Laps. At all events he was on his way to things that will occupy our attention for some time yet.