Kitabı oku: «Rollo at Work», sayfa 3

A Conversation

That evening, when Rollo was just going to bed, his father took him up in his lap, and told him he had concluded what to do.

“You see it is very necessary,” said he, “that you should have the power of confining yourself steadily and patiently to a single employment, even if it does not amuse you. I have to do that, and all people have to do it, and you must learn to do it, or you will grow up indolent and useless. You cannot do it now, it is very plain. If I set you to doing any thing, you go on as long as the novelty and the amusement last, and then your patience is gone, and you contrive every possible excuse for getting away from your task. Now, I am going to give you one hour's work to do, every forenoon and afternoon. I shall give you such things to do, as are perfectly plain and easy, so that you will have no excuse for neglecting your work or leaving it. But yet I shall choose such things as will afford you no amusement; for I want you to learn to work, not play.”

“But, father,” said Rollo, “you told me there was pleasure in work, the other day. But how can there be any pleasure in it, if you choose such things as have no amusement in them, at all?”

“The pleasure of working,” said his father, “is not the fun of doing amusing things, but the satisfaction and solid happiness of being faithful in duty, and accomplishing some useful purpose. For example, if I were to lose my pocket-book on the road, and should tell you to walk back a mile, and look carefully all the way until you found it, and if you did it faithfully and carefully, you would find a kind of satisfaction in doing it; and when you found the pocket-book, and brought it back to me, you would enjoy a high degree of happiness. Should not you?”

“Why, yes, sir, I should,” said Rollo.

“And yet there would be no amusement in it. You might, perhaps, the next day, go over the same road, catching butterflies: that would be amusement. Now, the pleasure you would enjoy in looking for the pocket-book, would be the solid satisfaction of useful work. The pleasure of catching butterflies would be the amusement of play. Now, the difficulty is, with you, that you have scarcely any idea, yet, of the first. You are all the time looking for the other, that is, the amusement. You begin to work when I give you any thing to do, but if you do not find amusement in it, you soon give it up. But if you would only persevere, you would find, at length, a solid satisfaction, that would be worth a great deal more.”

Rollo sat still, and listened, but his father saw, from his looks, that he was not much interested in what he was saying; and he perceived that it was not at all probable that so small a boy could be reasoned into liking work. In fact, it was rather hard for Rollo to understand all that his father said,—and still harder for him to feel the force of it. He began to grow sleepy, and so his father let him go to bed.

Rollo Learns to Work at Last

The next day his father gave him his work. He was to begin at ten o'clock, and work till eleven, gathering beans in the garden. His father went out with him, and waited to see how long it took him to gather half a pint, and then calculated how many he could gather in an hour, if he was industrious. Rollo knew that if he failed now, he should be punished in some way, although his father did not say any thing about punishment. When he was set at work the day before, about the nails, he was making an experiment, as it were, and he did not expect to be actually punished if he failed; but now he knew that he was under orders, and must obey.

So he worked very diligently, and when his father came out at the end of the hour, he found that Rollo had got rather more beans than he had expected. Rollo was much gratified to see his father pleased; and he carried in his large basket full of beans to show his mother, with great pleasure. Then he went to play, and enjoyed himself very highly.

The next morning, his father said to him,

“Well, Rollo, you did very well yesterday; but doing right once is a very different thing from forming a habit of doing right. I can hardly expect you will succeed as well to-day; or, if you should to-day, that you will to-morrow.”

Rollo thought he should. His work was to pick up all the loose stones in the road, and carry them, in a basket, to a great heap of stones behind the barn. But he was not quite faithful. His father observed him playing several times. He did not speak to him, however, until the hour was over, and then he called him in.

“Rollo,” said he, “you have failed to-day. You have not been very idle, but have not been industrious; and the punishment which I have concluded to try first, is, to give you only bread and water for dinner.”

So, when dinner time came, and the family sat down to the good beefsteak and apple-pie which was upon the table, Rollo knew that he was not to come. He felt very unhappy, but he did not cry. His father called him, and cut off a good slice of bread, and put into his hands, and told him he might go and eat it on the steps of the back door. “If you should be thirsty,” he added, “you may ask Mary to give you some water.”

Rollo took the bread, and went out, and took his solitary seat on the stone step leading into the back yard, and, in spite of all his efforts to prevent it, the tears would come into his eyes. He thought of his guilt in disobeying his father, and he felt unhappy to think that his father and mother were seated together at their pleasant table, and that he could not come because he had been an undutiful son. He determined that he would never be unfaithful in his work again.

He went on, after this, several days, very well. His father gave him various kinds of work to do, and he began at last to find a considerable degree of satisfaction in doing it. He found, particularly, that he enjoyed himself a great deal more after his work than before, and whenever he saw what he had done, it gave him pleasure. After he had picked up the loose stones before the house, for instance, he drove his hoop about there, with unusual satisfaction; enjoying the neat and tidy appearance of the road much more than he would have done if Jonas had cleared it. In fact, in the course of a month, Rollo became quite a faithful and efficient little workman.

The Corporal's Again

“Now,” said his father to him one day, after he had been doing a fine job of wood-piling,—“now we will go and talk with the corporal about a wheelbarrow. Or do you think you could find the way yourself?”

Rollo said he thought he could.

“Very well, you may go; I believe I shall let you have a wheelbarrow now, and you can ask him how soon he can have it done.”

Rollo clapped his hands, and capered about, and asked his father how long he thought it would be before he could have it.

“O, you will learn,” said he, “when you come to talk with the corporal.”

“Do you think it will be a week?”

“I think it probable that he could make one in less than a week,” said his father, smiling.

“Well, how soon?” said Rollo.

“O, I cannot tell you: wait till you get to his shop, and then you will see.”

Rollo saw that, for some reason or other, his father was not inclined to talk about the time when he should have his wheelbarrow, but he could not think why; however, he determined to get the corporal to make it as quick as he could, at any rate.

It was about the middle of the afternoon that Rollo set off to go for his wheelbarrow. His mother told him he might go and get his cousin James to go with him if he chose. So he walked along towards the bridge, and, instead of turning at once off there to go towards the mill, he went on over the bridge towards the house where James lived. James came with him, and they walked back very pleasantly together.

When they got back across the bridge again, they turned off towards the mill, talking about the wheelbarrow. Rollo told James about his learning to work, and about his having seen the wheelbarrow at the corporal's, and how he trundled it about, and liked it very much.

“I should like to see it very much,” said James. “I suppose I can, when we get to the corporal's shop.”

“No,” said Rollo, “he said that that wheelbarrow was engaged; and I suppose it has been taken away before this time.”

Just then the corner of the corporal's shop began to corner into view, and presently the door came in sight, and James called out,

“Yes, yes, there it is. I see it standing up by the side of the door.”

“No,” said Rollo, “that is not it. That is a green one.”

“What color was the wheelbarrow that you saw?” asked James.

“It was not any color; it was not painted,” said Rollo. “I wonder whose that wheelbarrow can be?”

The boys walked along, and presently came to the door of the shop. They opened the door, and went in. There was nobody there.

Various articles were around the room. There was a bench at one side, near a window; and there were a great many tools upon it, and upon shelves over it. On another side of the shop was a lathe, a curious sort of a machine, that the corporal used a great deal, in some of his nicest work. Then there were a good many things there, which were sent in to be mended, such as chairs, a spinning-wheel, boys' sleds, and one or two large wheelbarrows.

The boys walked around the room a few minutes, looking at the various things; and at last Rollo spied another little wheelbarrow, on a shelf. It was very much like the one at the door, only it was painted green.

Rollo said that that one looked exactly like the one he trundled when he was there before, only it was green.

“Perhaps he has painted it since,” said James; “let us go to the door, and look at the other one, and see which is the biggest.”

So they went to the door, and found that the blue one was a little the biggest.

Just then they saw the corporal coming across the road, with a hatchet in his hand. He had been to grind it at the mill, where there was a grindstone, that went round by water.

“Ah, boys,” said he, “how do you do? Have you come for your wheelbarrow, Rollo.”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “how soon can you get it done?”

“Done? it is done now,” said he; “there it is.” And he took the blue wheelbarrow, which was at the door, and set it down in the path.

“That is not mine,” said Rollo, “is it?”

“Yes,” said the corporal; “your father spoke for it a week ago.”

Rollo took hold of his wheelbarrow, and began to wheel it along. He liked it very much.

Rollo Took Hold of His Wheelbarrow.

James said he wished he could have one too, and while Rollo was talking with the corporal, he could not help looking at the green one on the shelf, which he thought was just about as big as he should like.

The corporal asked him if he wanted to see that one, and he took it down for him. James took hold of the handles, and tried it a little, back and forth on the floor, and then he said it was just about big enough for him.

“Who is this for?” said he to the corporal.

“I do not know,” said the corporal; “a gentleman bespoke it some time ago. I do not know what his name is.”

Just then he seemed to see somebody out of the window.

“Ah! here he comes now!” he exclaimed suddenly.

Just then the door opened, and whom should the boys see coming in, but their uncle George!

“Why, James,” said he, “have you got hold of your wheelbarrow already?”

“My wheelbarrow!” said James. “Is this mine?”

“Yes,” said his uncle, “I got it made to give to you. But when I found that Rollo was having one made, I waited for his to be done, so that you might have them both together. So trundle them home.”

So the boys set off on the run down the road, in fine style, with their wheelbarrows trundling beautifully before them.

Causey-Building

Sand-Men

Next to little wooden blocks, I think that good, clean sand is an excellent thing for children to play with. When it is a little damp, it will remain in any shape you put it in, and you can build houses and cities, and make roads and canals in it. At any rate, Rollo and his cousin James used to be very fond of going down to a certain place in the brook, where there was plenty of sand, and playing in it. It was of a gray color, and somewhat mixed with pebble-stones; but then they used to like the pebble-stones very much to make walls with, and to stone up the little wells which they made in the sand.

One Wednesday afternoon, they were there playing very pleasantly with the sand. They had been building a famous city, and, after amusing themselves with it some time, they had knocked down the houses, and trampled the sand all about again. James then said he meant to go to the barn and get his horse-cart, and haul a load of sand to market.

Now there was a place around behind a large rock near there, which the boys called their barn; and Rollo and James went to it, and pulled out their two little wheelbarrows, which they called their horse-carts. They wheeled them down to the edge of the water, and began to take up the sand by double handfuls, and put it in.

When they had got their carts loaded, they began to wheel them around to the trees, and stones, and bushes, saying,

“Who'll buy my sand?”

“Who'll buy my white sand?”

“Who'll buy my gray sand?”

“Who'll buy my black sand?”

But they did not seem to find any purchaser; and at last Rollo said, suddenly,

“O, I know who will buy our sand.”

“Who?” said James.

“Mother.”

“So she will,” said James. “We will wheel it up to the house.”

So they set off, and began wheeling their loads of sand up the pathway among the trees. They went on a little way, and presently stopped, and sat down on a bank to rest. Here they found a number of flowers, which they gathered and stuck up in the sand, so that their loads soon made a very gay appearance.

Just as they were going to set out again, Rollo said,

“But, James, how are we going to get through the quagmire?”

“O,” said James, “we can step along on the bank by the side of the path.”

“No,” said Rollo; “for we cannot get our wheelbarrows along there.”

“Why, yes,—we got them along there when we came down.”

“But they were empty and light then; now they are loaded and heavy.”

“So they are; but I think we can get along; it is not very muddy there now.”

The place which the boys called the quagmire, was a low place in the pathway, where it was almost always muddy. This pathway was made by the cows, going up and down to drink; and it was a good, dry, and hard path in all places but one. This, in the spring of the year, was very wet and miry; and, during the whole summer, it was seldom perfectly dry. The boys called it the quagmire, and they used to get by on one side, in among the bushes.

They found that it was not very muddy at this time, and they contrived to get through with their loads of sand, and soon got to the house. They trundled their wheelbarrows up to the door leading out to the garden; and Rollo knocked at the door.

Now Rollo's mother happened, at this time, to be sitting at the back-parlor window, and she heard their voices as they came along the yard. So, supposing the knocking was some of their play, she just looked out of the window, and called out,

“Who's there?”

“Some sand-men,” Rollo answered, “who have got some sand to sell.”

His mother looked out of the window, and had quite a talk with them about their sand; she asked them where it came from, what color it was, and whether it was free from pebble-stones. The boys had to admit that there were a good many pebble-stones in it, and that pebble-stones were not very good to scour floors with.

The Gray Garden

At last, Rollo's mother recommended that they should carry the sand out to a corner of the yard, where the chips used to be, and spread it out there, and stick their flowers up in it for a garden.

The boys liked this plan very much. “We can make walks and beds, beautifully, in the sand,” said Rollo. “But, mother, do you think the flowers will grow?”

“No,” said his mother, “flowers will not grow in sand; but, as it is rather a shady place, and you can water them occasionally, they will keep green and bright a good many days, and then, you know, you can get some more.”

So the boys wheeled the sand out to the corner of the yard, took the flowers out carefully, and then tipped the sand down and spread it out. They tried to make walks and beds, but they found they had not got as much sand as they wanted. So they concluded to go back and get some more.

In fact, they found that, by getting a great many wheelbarrow loads of sand, they could cover over the whole corner, and make a noble large place for a sand-garden. And then, besides, as James said, when they were tired of it for a garden, they could build cities there, instead of having to go away down to the brook.

So they went on wheeling their loads of sand, for an hour or two. James had not learned to work as well as Rollo had, and he was constantly wanting to stop, and run into the woods, or play in the water; but Rollo told him it would be better to get all the sand up, first. They at last got quite a great heap, and then went and got a rake and hoe to level it down smooth.

Thus the afternoon passed away; and at last Mary told the boys that they must come and get ready for tea, for she was going to carry it in soon.

A Contract

So Rollo and James brushed the loose sand from their clothes, and washed their faces and hands, and went in. As tea was not quite ready, they sat down on the front-door steps before Rollo's father, who was then sitting in his arm-chair in the entry, reading.

He shut up the book, and began to talk with the boys.

“Well, boys,” said he, “what have you been doing all this afternoon?”

“O,” said Rollo, “we have been hard at work.”

“And what have you been doing?”

Rollo explained to his father that they had been making a sand-garden out in a corner of the yard, and they both asked him to go with them and see it.

They all three accordingly went out behind the house, the children running on before.

“But, boys,” said Rollo's father, as they went on, “how came your feet so muddy?”

“O,” said James, “they got muddy in the quagmire.”

The boys explained how they could not go around the quagmire with their loaded wheelbarrows, and so had to pick their way through it the best way they could; and thus they got their shoes muddy a little; but they said they were as careful as they could be.

When they came to the sand-garden, Rollo's father smiled to see the beds and walks, and the rows of flowers stuck up in the sand. It made quite a gay appearance. After looking at it some time, they went slowly back again, and as they were walking across the yard,

“Father,” said Rollo, “do you not think that is a pretty good garden?”

“Why, yes,” said his father, “pretty good.”

“Don't you think we have worked pretty well?”

“Why, I think I should call that play, not work.”

“Not work!” said Rollo. “Is it not work to wheel up such heavy loads of sand? You don't know how heavy they were.”

“I dare say it was hard; but boys play hard, sometimes, as well as work hard.”

“But I should think ours, this afternoon, was work,” said Rollo.

“Work,” replied his father, “is when you are engaged in doing any thing in order to produce some useful result. When you are doing any thing only for the amusement of it, without any useful result, it is play. Still, in one sense, your wheeling the sand was work. But it was not very useful work; you will admit that.”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo.

“Well, boys, how should you like to do some useful work for me, with your wheelbarrows? I will hire you.”

“O, we should like that very much,” said James. “How much should you pay us?”

“That would depend upon how much work you do. I should pay you what the work was fairly worth; as much as I should have to pay a man, if I were to hire a man to do it.”

“What should you give us to do?” said Rollo.

“I don't know. I should think of some job. How should you like to fill up the quagmire?”

“Fill up the quagmire!” said Rollo. “How could we do that?”

“You might fill it up with stones. There are a great many small stones lying around there, which you might pick up and put into your wheelbarrows, and wheel them along, and tip them over into the quagmire; and when you have filled the path all up with stones, cover them over with gravel, and it will make a good causey.”

“Causey?” said Rollo.

“Yes, causey,” said his father; “such a hard, dry road, built along a muddy place, is called a causey.”

They had got to the tea-table by this time; and while at tea, Rollo's father explained the plan to them more fully. He said he would pay them a cent for every two loads of stones or gravel which they should wheel in to make the causey.

They were going to ask some more questions about it, but he told them he could not talk any more about it then, but that they might go and ask Jonas how they should do it, after tea.