 | The snow-image |  |
LITTLE DAFFYDOWNDILLY.
Daffydowndilly was so called because in his nature
he resembled a flower, and loved to do only what was
beautiful and agreeable, and took no delight in labor of
any kind. But, while Daffydowndilly was yet a little
boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home,
and put him under the care of a very strict schoolmaster,
who went by the name of Mr. Toil. Those
who knew him best affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
very worthy character; and that he had done more good,
both to children and grown people, than anybody else in
the world. Certainly he had lived long enough to do a
great deal of good; for, if all stories be true, he had
dwelt upon earth ever since Adam was driven from the
garden of Eden.
Nevertheless, Mr. Toil had a severe and ugly countenance,
especially for such little boys or big men as were
inclined to be idle; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his
ways and customs seemed very disagreeable to our friend
Daffydowndilly. The whole day long, this terrible old
schoolmaster sat at his desk overlooking the scholars, or
stalked about the school-room with a certain awful birch
rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders
of a boy whom Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he
punished a whole class who were behindhand with their
lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to attend
of enjoying a quiet moment in the school-room of Mr.
Toil.
“This will never do for me,” thought Daffydowndilly.
Now, the whole of Daffydowndilly's life had hitherto
been passed with his dear mother, who had a much
sweeter face than old Mr. Toil, and who had always
been very indulgent to her little boy. No wonder,
therefore, that poor Daffydowndilly found if a woful
change, to be sent away from the good lady's side, and
put under the care of this ugly-visaged schoolmaster,
who never gave him any apples or cakes, and seemed
to think that little boys were created only to get
lessons.
“I can't bear it any longer,” said Daffydowndilly to
himself, when he had been at school about a week.
“I 'll run away, and try to find my dear mother; and,
at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable
as this old Mr. Toil!”
So, the very next morning, off started poor Daffydowndilly,
and began his rambles about the world, with only
some bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little
pocket-money to pay his expenses. But he had gone
only a short distance, when he overtook a man of grave
and sedate appearance, who was trudging at a moderate
pace along the road.
“Good-morning, my fine lad,” said the stranger; and
his voice seemed hard and severe, but yet had a sort of
kindness in it; “whence do you come so early, and
whither are you going?”
Little Daffydowndilly was a boy of very ingenuous
all his life. Nor did he tell one now. He hesitated a
moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run
away from school, on account of his great dislike to Mr.
Toil; and that he was resolved to find some place in the
world where he should never see or hear of the old
schoolmaster again.
“O, very well, my little friend!” answered the
stranger. “Then we will go together; for I, likewise,
have had a good deal to do with Mr. Toil, and should
be glad to find some place where he was never heard
of.”
Our friend Daffydowndilly would have been better
pleased with a companion of his own age, with whom
he might have gathered flowers along the roadside, or
have chased butterflies, or have done many other things
to make the journey pleasant. But he had wisdom
enough to understand that he should get along through
the world much easier by having a man of experience
to show him the way. So he accepted the stranger's
proposal, and they walked on very sociably together.
They had not gone far, when the road passed by a
field where some haymakers were at work, mowing
down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the sun to
dry. Daffydowndilly was delighted with the sweet
smell of the new-mown grass, and thought how much
pleasanter it must be to make hay in the sunshine, under
the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly in the
neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a
dismal school-room, learning lessons all day long, and
continually scolded by old Mr. Toil. But, in the midst
of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
companion's hand.
“Quick, quick!” cried he. “Let us run away, or
he will catch us!”
“Who will catch us?” asked the stranger.
“Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!” answered Daffydowndilly.
“Don't you see him amongst the haymakers?”
And Daffydowndilly pointed to an elderly man, who
seemed to be the owner of the field, and the employer of
the men at work there. He had stripped off his coat
and waistcoat, and was busily at work in his shirt-sleeves.
The drops of sweat stood upon his brow; but
he gave himself not a moment's rest, and kept crying
out to the haymakers to make hay while the sun
shone. Now, strange to say, the figure and features
of this old farmer were precisely the same as those of
old Mr. Toil, who, at that very moment, must have
been just entering his school-room.
“Don't be afraid,” said the stranger. “This is not
Mr. Toil the schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who
was bred a farmer; and people say he is the most disagreeable
man of the two. However, he won't trouble
you, unless you become a laborer on the farm.”
Little Daffydowndilly believed what his companion
said, but was very glad, nevertheless, when they were
out of sight of the old farmer, who bore such a singular
resemblance to Mr. Toil. The two travellers had gone
but little further, when they came to a spot where some
carpenters were erecting a house. Daffydowndilly
begged his companion to stop a moment; for it was a
very pretty sight to see how neatly the carpenters did
and hammers, shaping out the doors, and putting in the
window-sashes, and nailing on the clapboards; and he
could not help thinking that he should like to take a
broad-axe, a saw, a plane, and a hammer, and build a
little house for himself. And then, when he should
have a house of his own, old Mr. Toil would never dare
to molest him.
But, just while he was delighting himself with this
idea, little Daffydowndilly beheld something that made
him catch hold of his companion's hand, all in a fright.
“Make haste! Quick, quick!” cried he. “There
he is again!”
“Who?” asked the stranger, very quietly.
“Old Mr. Toil,” said Daffydowndilly, trembling.
“There! he that is overseeing the carpenters. 'T is
my old schoolmaster, as sure as I 'm alive!”
The stranger cast his eyes where Daffydowndilly
pointed his finger; and he saw an elderly man, with a
carpenter's rule and compasses in his hand. This
person went to and fro about the unfinished house,
measuring pieces of timber, and marking out the work
that was to be done, and continually exhorting the
other carpenters to be diligent. And wherever he
turned his hard and wrinkled visage, the men seemed to
feel that they had a task-master over them, and sawed,
and hammered, and planed, as if for dear life.
“O, no! this is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster,” said
the stranger. “It is another brother of his, who follows
the trade of carpenter.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” quoth Daffydowndilly;
way as soon as possible.”
Then they went on a little further, and soon heard
the sound of a drum and fife. Daffydowndilly pricked
up his ears at this, and besought his companion to
hurry forward, that they might not miss seeing the
soldiers. Accordingly, they made what haste they
could, and soon met a company of soldiers, gayly
dressed, with beautiful feathers in their caps, and bright
muskets on their shoulders. In front marched two
drummers and two fifers, beating on their drums and
playing on their fifes with might and main, and making
such lively music that little Daffydowndilly would
gladly have followed them to the end of the world.
And if he was only a soldier, then, he said to himself,
old Mr. Toil would never venture to look him in the
face.
“Quick step! Forward march!” shouted a gruff
voice.
Little Daffydowndilly started, in great dismay; for
this voice which had spoken to the soldiers sounded
precisely the same as that which he had heard every
day in Mr. Toil's school-room, out of Mr. Toil's own
mouth. And, turning his eyes to the captain of the
company, what should he see but the very image of old
Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his
head, a pair of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced
coat on his back, a purple sash round his waist, and
a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his hand.
And though he held his head so high, and strutted like
a turkey-cock, still he looked quite as ugly and disagreeable
“This is certainly old Mr. Toil,” said Daffydowndilly,
in a trembling voice. “Let us run away, for fear he
should make us enlist in his company!”
“You are mistaken again, my little friend,” replied
the stranger, very composedly. “This is not Mr. Toil,
the schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who has served
in the army all his life. People say he 's a terribly
severe fellow; but you and I need not be afraid of
him.”
“Well, well,” said little Daffydowndilly, “but, if you
please, sir, I don't want to see the soldiers any more.”
So the child and the stranger resumed their journey;
and, by and by, they came to a house by the road-side,
where a number of people were making merry. Young
men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
were dancing to the sound of a fiddle. It was the pleasantest
sight that Daffydowndilly had yet met with, and
it comforted him for all his disappointments.
“O, let us stop here,” cried he to his companion;
“for Mr. Toil will never dare to show his face where
there is a fiddler, and where people are dancing and
making merry. We shall be quite safe here!”
But these last words died away upon Daffydowndilly's
tongue; for, happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler,
whom should he behold again, but the likeness of Mr.
Toil, holding a fiddle-bow instead of a birch rod, and
flourishing it with as much ease and dexterity as if he
had been a fiddler all his life! He had somewhat the
air of a Frenchman, but still looked exactly like the old
schoolmaster; and Daffydowndilly even fancied that he
join in the dance.
“O, dear me!” whispered he, turning pale. “It
seems as if there was nobody but Mr. Toil in the
world. Who could have thought of his playing on a
fiddle!”
“This is not your old schoolmaster,” observed the
stranger, “but another brother of his, who was bred in
France, where he learned the profession of a fiddler. He
is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
Monsieur le Plaisir; but his real name is Toil, and
those who have known him best think him still more
disagreeable than his brothers.”
“Pray let us go a little further,” said Daffydowndilly.
“I don't like the looks of this fiddler, at all.”
Well, thus the stranger and little Daffydowndilly
went wandering along the highway, and in shady lanes,
and through pleasant villages; and whithersoever they
went, behold! there was the image of old Mr. Toil. He
stood like a scarecrow in the corn-fields. If they entered
a house, he sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the
kitchen, he was there. He made himself at home in
every cottage, and stole, under one disguise or another,
into the most splendid mansions. Everywhere there
was sure to be somebody wearing the likeness of Mr.
Toil, and who, as the stranger affirmed, was one of the
old schoolmaster's innumerable brethren.
Little Daffydowndilly was almost tired to death, when
he perceived some people reclining lazily in a shady
place, by the side of the road. The poor child entreated
his companion that they might sit down there, and take
some repose.
“Old Mr. Toil will never come here,” said he; “for
he hates to see people taking their ease.”
But, even while he spoke, Daffydowndilly's eyes fell
upon a person who seemed the laziest, and heaviest, and
most torpid, of all those lazy, and heavy, and torpid
people, who had lain down to sleep in the shade. Who
should it be, again, but the very image of Mr. Toil!
“There is a large family of these Toils,” remarked
the stranger. “This is another of the old schoolmaster's
brothers, who was bred in Italy, where he acquired very
idle habits, and goes by the name of Signor Far Niente.
He pretends to lead an easy life, but is really the most
miserable fellow in the family.”
“O, take me back! — take me back!” cried poor
little Daffydowndilly, bursting into tears. “If there is
nothing but Toil all the world over, I may just as well go
back to the schoolhouse!”
“Yonder it is, — there is the schoolhouse!” said the
stranger; for though he and little Daffydowndilly had
taken a great many steps, they had travelled in a circle,
instead of a straight line. “Come; we will go back to
school together.”
There was something in his companion's voice that
little Daffydowndilly now remembered; and it is strange
that he had not remembered it sooner. Looking up into
his face, behold! there again was the likeness of old
Mr. Toil; so that the poor child had been in company
with Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to
run away from him. Some people, to whom I have told
little Daffydowndilly's story, are of opinion that old Mr.
Toil was a magician, and possessed the power of multiplying
himself into as many shapes as he saw fit.
Be this as it may, little Daffydowndilly had learned a
good lesson, and from that time forward was diligent at
his task, because he knew that diligence is not a whit
more toilsome than sport or idleness. And when he
became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began to
think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and
that the old schoolmaster's smile of approbation made
his face almost as pleasant as even that of Daffydowndilly's
mother.
| The snow-image | |