Yes, the informing mind had departed with the children. For that these carried about with them a large quantity of the above article shall speedily be made evident.
It was the great day on which Dominie Pennewip was to judge of the fruits of his pupils’ poetic genius. There he sat. His much-moved wig shared in the emotions which filled him on reading the poems; and we will be indiscreet enough to look over his shoulder, so as, in our turn, to be touched by impressions of never-sufficiently-to-be-appreciated artistic enjoyment.
“My name is Tryntje Fop, I have a cap on my head atop.”
“Not bad; but—let us see—yes, that is better. The superfluous words, ‘on my head,’ weaken the impression of the whole.”
He scored through the superfluous words, and now Tryntje Fop has simply a cap on, without a head.
“This is the sort of terse and concise style I like.”
“Fatherland, cake, and almonds also, In the moonlight I a-walking go; Cake, Fatherland, and brandy-wine, I go a-walking in the moonshine. Five fingers have I upon my hand, In honour of our dear Fatherland.”
“Melodious,” said the master; “it runs quite melodiously. And there is depth in the cake and the brandy, with the Fatherland in between them.”
“The cat fell downstairs to-day; My father, he sells pota- Toes and onions.”
“Original; but I do not like her dividing the word potatoes.”
“He stands on a chimney, all soot below, And shows the wind the way it must blow.”
“This is not quite accurate; for, strictly speaking——, but, as a poetical license, it may pass.”
“The little caterpillar, without fear, Jumps round upon the trees, both far and near.”
“Descriptive poetry. There is a certain boldness in the idea of the caterpillar fearlessly jumping about.”
“In the spring all is bright and gay; My brother’s birthday is in May; But now he has chilblains on his feet. So we’ll praise the spring, as it is meet. Then we’ll go for walks together, And look for eggs at Easter.”
“It is a pity that the rhyme is so very careless. His ideas are really uncommon, and well developed. The transition to the egg is quite characteristic.”
KEESJE, THE BUTCHER’S SON—EULOGY OF THE DOMINIE.
“My father has killed many an ox with his knife, But Master Pennewip is still in life. Sometimes they were lean, and sometimes fat, And he wears a wig underneath his hat.”