“There, there! I’m an old fool, and for making you as bad. Poetry’s not your business, you understand: I’m giving ye no encouragement to dabble with the fine arts. Science is the ladder for a working-man to climb to fame. In addition to which, the poet Keats, though he certainly speaks the very language of Nature, was a bit of a heathen, I’m afraid, and the fascination of him might be injurious in tender youth. Never mind, child, if ye love poetry, I’ll learn ye pieces by the poet Herbert. They’re just true poetry, and manly, too; and they’re a fountain of experimental religion. And, if this style is too sober for your fancy, Charles Wesley’s hymns are touched with the very fire of religious passion.” “Are your folk religious, Jan?” he added, abruptly. And whilst Jan stood puzzling the question, he asked with an almost official air of authority, “Do ye any of ye come to church?” “My father does on club-days,” said Jan. “And the rest of ye,—do ye attend any place of worship?” Jan shook his head. “And I’ll dare to say ye didn’t know I was the clerk?” said Master Swift. “There’s paganism for ye in a Christian parish! Well, well, you’re coming to me, lad, and, apart from your secular studies, you’ll be instructed in the Word of GOD, and in the Church Catechism on Fridays.” “Thank you, sir,” said Jan. He felt this civility to be due, though of the schoolmaster’s plans for his benefit he had a very confused notion. He then took leave. Rufus went with him to the gate, and returned to his master with a look which plainly said, “We could have done with him very well, if you had kept him.” When Jan had reached a bit of rising ground, from which the house he had just left was visible, he turned round to look at it again. Master Swift was standing where he had left him, gazing out into the distance with painful intensity. The fast-sinking sun lit up his heavy face and figure with a transforming glow, and hung a golden mist above the meads, at which he stared like one spellbound. But when Jan turned to pursue his way to the windmill, the schoolmaster turned also, and went back into the cottage. CHAPTER XXII. THE PARISH CHURCH.—REMBRANDT.—THE SNOW SCENE.—MASTER SWIFT’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. IN most respects, Jan’s conduct and progress were very satisfactory. He quickly learned to read, and his copy-books were models. The good clerk developed another talent in him. Jan learned to sing, and to sing very well; and he was put into the choir-seats in the old church, where he sang with enthusiasm hymns which he had learned by heart from the schoolmaster.