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 schoolroom 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 quietly and constantly to his
book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet moment in the schoolroom 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 it 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.
[Illustration: Mr. Toil]
“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?”
[Illustration]
Little Daffydowndilly had never been known to tell a lie in 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.
“Oh, very well, my little friend!” answered the stranger. “Then we
shall 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 schoolroom, 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 the stone wall he started back and caught
hold of his 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
schoolroom.
“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 the
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.”
Little Daffydowndilly believed what his companion said, but he 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 farther, 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 their work, with their broad-axes and saws, and planes,
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. ’Tis 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 compass 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.
“Oh, 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; “but if you please,
sir, I should like to get out of his way as soon as possible.”
Then they went on a little farther, 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 schoolroom, 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 as when he was hearing lessons in the schoolroom.
“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 roadside, 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.
“Oh, 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 nodded and winked at him, and made
signs for him to join in the dance.
“Oh 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.”
“Oh, 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 shall
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
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.
--NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.