ich had
the day before committed many an annoyance, had been dismissed with song
and music. The carpenter's axe flashed in the spring sunlight before the
red walls, towers and gates, and cut sharply into the beams from
which new scaffolds and frames were to be erected; noble cattle grazed
peacefully undisturbed around the city, whose desolated gardens were
being dug, sowed and planted afresh. In the streets and houses a
thousand hands, which but a short time before had guided spears and
arquebuses on the walls and towers, were busy at useful work, and old
people sat quietly before their doors to let the warm spring sun shine
on their backs.

Few discontented faces were to be seen in Leyden on this eighteenth of
April. True, there was no lack of impatient ones, and whoever wanted
to seek them need only go to the principal school, where noon was
approaching and many boys gazed far more eagerly through the open
windows of the school-room, than at the teacher's lips.

But in that part of the spacious hall where the older lads received
instruction, no restlessness prevailed. True, the spring sun shone on
their books and exercises too, the spring called them into the open
air, but even more powerful than its alluring voice seemed the influence
exerted on their young minds by what they were now hearing.

Forty sparkling eyes were turned towards the bearded man, who addressed
them in his deep voice. Even wild Jan Mulder had dropped the knife with
which he had begun to cut on his desk a well-executed figure of a ham,
and was listening attentively.

The noon bell now rang from the neighboring church, and soon after was
heard from the tower of the town-hall, the little boys noisily left the
room, but--strange-=the patience of the older ones still held out; they
were surely hearing things that did not exactly belong to their lessons.

The man who stood before them was no teacher in the school, but the
city clerk, Van Hout, who, to-day filled the place of his sick friend,
Verstroot, master of arts and preacher. During the ringing of the bells
he had closed the book, and now said:

"'Suspendo lectionem.' Jan Mulder, how would you translate my
'suspendere'?"

"Hang," replied the boy.

"Hang!" laughed Van Hout. "You might be hung from a hook perhaps, but
where should we hang a lesson? Adrian Van der Werff."

The lad called rose quickly, saying:

"'Suspendere lectionen' means to break off the lesson."

"Very well; and if w