What constitutes the essence, the nare, the principle of diddling
is, in fact, peculiar to the class of creatures that wear coats and
pantaloons. A crow thieves; a fox cheats; a weasel outwits; a man
diddles. To diddle is his destiny. "Man was made to mourn," says the
poet. But not so:- he was made to diddle. This is his aim- his object-
his end. And for this reason when a man's diddled we say he's "done."
Diddling, rightly considered, is a compound, of which the
ingredients are minuteness, interest, perseverance, ingenuity,
audacity, nonchalance, originality, impertinence, and grin.
Minuteness:- Your diddler is minute. His operations are upon a small
scale. His business is retail, for cash, or approved paper at sight.
Should he ever be tempted into magnificent speculation, he then, at
once, loses his distinctive features, and becomes what we term
"financier." This latter word conveys the diddling idea in every
respect except that of magnitude. A diddler may thus be regarded as
a banker in petto- a "financial operation," as a diddle at Brobdignag.
The one is to the other, as Homer to "Flaccus"- as a Mastodon to a
mouse- as the tail of a comet to that of a pig.
Interest:- Your diddler is guided by self-interest. He scorns to
diddle for the mere sake of the diddle. He has an object in view-
his pocket- and yours. He regards always the main chance. He looks
to Number One.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16