Daffy-down-dilly 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 Daffy-down-dilly 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. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil
had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways
seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.
The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk,
overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the 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 constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet
moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.
"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he
had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear
mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as
this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor
Daffy-down-dilly, 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 along the road at a
moderate pace.
"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you
come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly 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 nor hear of the
old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the
stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do
with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was
never heard."
They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some haymakers
were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the
sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly 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
schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by
Mr. Toil.
But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand,
and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you
see him among the haymakers?"
"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 more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."
They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and
fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that
they might not miss seeing the soldiers.
"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; 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! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he
looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in
the schoolroom.
"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling
voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will 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 very
severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."
"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "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 roadside, where some people were making
merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.
"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly 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 Daffy-down-dilly'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.
"Oh, dear!" 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," said 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
Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known him
best, think him still more disagreeable than his brother."
"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I don't like
the looks of this fiddler."
Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly 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 cornfields. 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, under one disguise or
another, stole into the most splendid mansions.
"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" said poor little Daffy-down-dilly,
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 Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many steps, they
had traveled 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
Daffy-down-dilly 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 the poor child had been in company with
Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.
When Daffy-down-dilly 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
the face of his own dear mother.
_Nathaniel Hawthorne._
"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
Publishers.
* * * * *
How will the following sentences read if you change the name-words from
the singular to the plural form: The old schoolmaster has a rod in his
hand. The boy likes his teacher. The girl goes cheerfully on an errand
for her mother. The pupil attends to his book, and knows his lesson
perfectly. Under the blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in
tree and bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain had a
smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his back, a purple
sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of a birch rod in his
hand.
From points furnished by your teacher, write a short composition on "Our
School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals, punctuation, paragraphs,
margin, penmanship, neatness and general appearance.
Memory Gems:
Evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of heart.
_Hood._
It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines your
happiness.
* * * * *
_63_
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