“Whiles,”’ said Erchie; “whiles! I buy the paper ae day, and when I read the wye brutal and ignorant schoolmaisters abuse their poseetion, I feel that angry I could fling bricks at the windows o’ a’ the schools I pass on the wye to my wark; but the next day when I read whit perfect wee deevils a’ the weans is nooadays, and hoo they’ll a’ turn oot a-disgrace to their faithers and mithers if they divna get a beltin’ twice a-day, I’m sair tempted to gae ower to my guid-dochter’s in the Calton and tak’ a razor-strop to wee Alick afore he gangs to his bed, jist in case he’s bein’ negleckit. That’s the warst o the newspapers; they’re aye giein’ ye the differen’ sets o’t, and ye read sae much on the ae side and then the ither that ye’re fair bate to mak’ up your mind. My ain puir auld faither--peace be wi’ him!--didna seem to be muckle fashed wi’ the different sets o’t in the newspapers; he made up his mind awfu’ fast, and gied ye his fit-rule ower the back o’ the fingers afore ye could gie your wee brither a clip on the nose for clypin’ on ye. They may abolish corporal punishment in the Gleska schools, but they’ll no’ pit an end to’t in hooses whaur the faither’s a plumber and aye has a fit-rule stuck doon the outside seam o’ his breeks.” “Ah yes! Erchie, but these paternal ebullitions of ill-temper----” “Ill-temper or no’,” said Erchie, “it’s a’ in the scheme o’ nature, and an angry man’s jist as much the weepon o’ nature as a thunderbolt is, or a lichted caundle lookin’ for an escape o’ gas. If ye dinna get your licks in the school for bein’ late in the mornin’, ye’ll get fined an awfu’ lot o’ times for sleepin’ in when ye’re auld enough to work in Dubs’s; so the thing’s as braid as it’s wide, as the Hielan’man said.” “Then you seem to think a fit of anger is essential to paternal punishment, Erchie? That’s surely contrary to all sober conclusions?’ “Sober conclusions hae naethin’ to dae wi’ skelpin’ weans, as I ken fine that brocht up ten o’ a family and nearly a’ that’s spared o’ them daein’ weel for themsel’s. The auld Doctor in oor kirk talks aboot love and chastisement, but in my experience human nature wad be a’ to bleezes lang afore this if faithers and mithers didna whiles lose their tempers and gie their weans whit they deserved. If you’re the kind o’ man that could thresh a puir wee smout o’ a laddie in cauld bluid, I’m no’, and I canna help it.” “And did you thrash your ten much, Erchie?” I asked, with a doubt as to that essential ill-temper in his case.