ough to last me for a lifetime; for the Reverend Pastor Slagkop had a
monstrous heavy hand; but at least he had taught me to read and write,
and to cast accounts--and that it was about time for me to set about
earning my own livelihood, which my elder brothers were already doing.
I was quite of his way of thinking, for I was a hard-working boy, and
was tired of eating the bread of idleness; only my dad and I didn't
exactly agree as to the precise manner by which I should earn a living.
He wanted me to wander with him, mostly by treykschuyt, or canal-boat,
up and down the United Provinces, helping him to carry his pack, and
trying to sell the clocks, watches, cutlery, spoons, hats, caps, laces,
stockings, gloves, and garters, in which, and a hundred things besides,
he traded. But I didn't like the peddler business. I was never a good
hand at making a bargain, and when I had to sell things, I was just as
bad a salesman. I let the customers beat me down; and then my father,
who was a just man, but dreadfully severe, beat _me_. Besides, to make
a good peddler, you must tell no end of lies, and the telling of lies
(although sailors are often said to spin yarns as tough as the chairs
and tables pretend to do) was never in my line. Again, although I was
of a roving disposition, and delighted in change, my native country had
no charms for me. At the seaports, where there were big ships, I was as
pleased as Punch; but, inland, the country seemed to me to be always the
same--flat, marshy, and stupid, with the same canals, the same
canal-boats, the same windmills, the same cows, the same farmhouses, the
same church steeples, the same dykes, the same dams, and the same people
smoking the same pipes, or sliding to market in winter time, when the
canals were frozen, on the same skates. To make an end of it, a
peddler's life was to me only one degree above that of a beggar; for you
had to be always asking somebody to buy your goods; and I have always
hated to ask favours of people. I told my father so; but he would not
hear of my turning to any trade, and there being no help for it, I had
to help him at peddlering for a good two years, although I fancy that he
lost more money than he gained by my lending him a hand. But, when I
was twelve years of age, and feeling stouter and stronger--and I was
taller for my age than most Dutch boys are--I told my father flatly that
I had had enough of peddlering, and that if he did not let me