Volume VIII Part 21 (1/2)

Darius was clearly of the opinion That the air is also man's dominion, And that, with paddle or fin or pinion, We soon or late shall navigate The azure, as now we sail the sea.

The thing looks simple enough to me; And, if you doubt it, Hear how Darius reasoned about it.

”The birds can fly, an' why can't I?

Must we give in,” says he, with a grin, ”That the bluebird an' phoebe Are smarter'n we be?

Jest fold our hands an' see the swaller An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler?

Does the little, chatterin', sa.s.sy wren, No bigger'n my thumb, know more than men?

Jest show me that!

Ur prove't the bat Hez got more brains than's in my hat, An' I'll back down, an' not till then!”

He argued further, ”Nur I can't see What's the use o' wings to a b.u.mble-bee, Fur to git a livin' with, more'n to me; Ain't my business Important's his'n is?

That Icarus Made a perty muss: Him an' his daddy Daedalus They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax Wouldn't stand sun-heat an' hard whacks.

I'll make mine o' luther, Ur suthin' ur other.”

And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned, ”But I ain't goin' to show my hand To nummies that never can understand The fust idee that's big an' grand.”

So he kept his secret from all the rest, Safely b.u.t.toned within his vest; And in the loft above the shed Himself he locks, with thimble and thread And wax and hammer and buckles and screws, And all such things as geniuses use; Two bats for patterns, curious fellows!

A charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows; Some wire, and several old umbrellas; A carriage-cover, for tail and wings; A piece of harness; and straps and strings; And a big strong box, In which he locks These and a hundred other things.

His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk Around the corner to see him work,-- Sitting cross-legged, like a Turk, Drawing the wax-end through with a jerk, And boring the holes with a comical quirk Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk.

But vainly they mounted each other's backs, And poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks; With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks He plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks; And a bucket of water, which one would think He had brought up into the loft to drink When he chanced to be dry, Stood always nigh, For Darius was sly!

And whenever at work he happened to spy At c.h.i.n.k or crevice a blinking eye, He let a dipper of water fly.

”Take that! an' ef ever ye git a peep, Guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep!

And he sings as he locks His big strong box:--

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”The weasel's head is small an' trim, An' he is leetle an' long an' slim, An' quick of motion an' nimble of limb, An' ef yeou'll be Advised by me, Keep wide awake when ye're ketchin' him!”

So day after day He st.i.tched and tinkered and hammered away, Till at last 'twas done,-- The greatest invention under the sun!

”An' now,” says Darius, ”hooray fer some fun!”

'T was the Fourth of July, And the weather was dry, And not a cloud was on all the sky, Save a few light fleeces, which here and there, Half mist, half air, Like foam on the ocean went floating by: Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen For a nice little trip in a flying-machine.

Thought cunning Darius: ”Now I shan't go Along 'ith the fellers to see the show.

I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough!

An' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off, I'll hev full swing Fer to try the thing, An' practyse a leetle on the wing.”

”Ain't goin' to see the celebration?”

Says Brother Nate. ”No; botheration!

I've got sich a cold--a toothache--I-- My gracious!--feel's though I should fly!”

Said Jotham, ”'Sho!

Guess ye better go.”

But Darius said, ”No!

Shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though, 'Long 'bout noon, ef I git red O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head.”

For all the while to himself he said:--

”I tell ye what!

I'll fly a few times around the lot, To see how 't seems, then soon 's I've got The hang o' the thing, ez likely 's not, I'll astonish the nation, An' all creation, By flyin' over the celebration!

I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull; I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stan' on the steeple; I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people!

I'll light on the libbe'ty-pole, an' crow; An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below, 'What world 's this 'ere That I've come near?'

Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon!

An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon.”