when the children assembled in the schoolhouse and
began to kick up a most fearful din, the noble paedagogue would scramble
to his feet, shake the straw out of his hair, smooth out his moustache,
and gaze with a cannibalistic expression out of the attic window, not
recognising for a moment exactly where he was.

After convincing himself by ocular demonstration that the schoolhouse
had not taken wings unto itself and flown, but was still in the old
place, he would shamble downstairs, stick a couple of canes under his
arm, and go forth to teach.

His pupils meanwhile were engaged in frightful hand-to-hand combats with
one another. There were scratched faces and bloody noses everywhere, and
when the master entered he regularly found all the benches upset and
everybody's hands tugging at his neighbour's hair.

The moment the facial portion of Mr. Michael Korde stumbled against the
door, the little rebels instantly disentangled themselves from one
another and attempted to reach their proper places, whence the grand
inquisitor hooked them out one by one, and thwacked the whole class in
turn with his own honourable hand.

This little commotion used generally to chase slumber somewhat from his
eyes, and when the lads had left off howling a bit, he would measure out
to each of them a big slice of catechism, or a similar amount of
Huebner's "Short questions in geography," to be repeated aloud till
learnt by heart, whilst he himself adjourned to the pot-house. From this
place of refuge he would send a message to the urchins later in the
afternoon that they might go home.

Thereupon there was a general rush for the door (just as when a herd of
swine reaches home, and every one tried to get through first) to an
accompaniment of kicks, cuffs, and the tugging and tearing of clothes.

On Sundays the lads did their best to ferret out where the Lutheran
children were playing ball. Then they all consulted together, and set
off for the same place with stout sticks in their hands and their
pockets crammed full of stones, and a battle royal forthwith would ensue
between the youths of the rival creeds. When, then, Monday morning came
round again Mr. Korde conscientiously administered a dose of birch,
previously soaked in salt water, to each one of his pupils who appeared
in class with a swollen face or a damaged noddle.

On Sunday, moreover, he twice took them with him to church where, during
the sermon, they either caught blue-bottle