Volume VIII Part 21 (2/2)
He crept from his bed; And, seeing the others were gone, he said, ”I'm gittin' over the cold'n my head.”
And away he sped, To open the wonderful box in the shed.
His brothers had walked but a little way, When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say, ”What is the feller up to, hey?”
”Do'no': the's suthin' ur other to pay, Ur he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day.”
Says Burke, ”His toothache's all'n his eye!
_He_ never'd miss a Fo'th-o'-July, Ef he hedn't got some machine to try.”
Then Sol, the little one, spoke: ”By darn!
Le's hurry back an' hide'n the barn, An' pay him fur tellin' us that yarn!”
”Agreed!” Through the orchard they crept back, Along by the fences, behind the stack, And one by one, through a hole in the wall, In under the dusty barn they crawl, Dressed in their Sunday garments all; And a very astonis.h.i.+ng sight was that, When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat Came up through the floor like an ancient rat.
And there they hid; And Reuben slid The fastenings back, and the door undid.
”Keep dark!” said he, ”While I squint an' see what the' is to see.”
As knights of old put on their mail,-- From head to foot an iron suit, Iron jacket and iron boot, Iron breeches, and on the head No hat, but an iron pot instead, And under the chin the bail (I believe they call the thing a helm), Then sallied forth to overwhelm The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm,-- So this _modern_ knight Prepared for flight, Put on his wings and strapped them tight, Jointed and jaunty, strong and light,-- Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip; Ten feet they measured from tip to tip!
And a helm had he, but that he wore, Not on his head, like those of yore, But more like the helm of a s.h.i.+p.
”Hus.h.!.+” Reuben said, ”He's up in the shed!
He's opened the winder,--I see his head!
He stretches it out, an' pokes it about, Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear An' n.o.body near: Guess he do'no' who's hid in here!
He's riggin' a spring-board over the sill!
Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still!
He's a climbin' out now--Of all the things!
What's he got on? I van, it's wings!
An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail!
An' there he sets, like a hawk on a rail!
Steppin' careful, he travels the length Of his spring-board, and teeters to try its strength.
Now he stretches his wings, like a monstrous bat, Peeps over his shoulder, this way an' that, Fur to see 'f the 's any one pa.s.sin' by; But the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh.
_They_ turn up at him a wonderin' eye, To see--The dragon! he's goin' to fly!
Away he goes! Jimminy! what a jump!
Flop--flop--an' plump To the ground with a thump!
Flutt'rin an' flound'rin', all 'n a lump!”
As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, Heels over head, to his proper sphere,-- Heels over head and head over heels, Dizzily down the abyss he wheels,-- So fell Darius. Upon his crown, In the midst of the barn-yard, he came down, In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings, Broken braces and broken springs, Broken tail and broken wings, Shooting-stars, and various things, Barn-yard litter of straw and chaff, And much that wasn't so sweet by half.
Away with a bellow fled the calf; And what was that? Did the gosling laugh?
'Tis a merry roar from the old barn door, And he hears the voice of Jotham crying, ”Say, D'rius! how do you like flyin'?”
Slowly, ruefully, where he lay, Darius just turned and looked that way, As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff.
”Wal, I like flyin' well enough,”
He said; ”but the' ain't sich a thunderin' sight O' fun in't when ye come to light.”
I just have room for the MORAL here: And this is the moral: Stick to your sphere.
Or, if you insist, as you have the right, On spreading your wings for a loftier flight, The moral is, Take care how you light.
PAPER: A POEM
BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Some wit of old,--such wits of old there were,-- Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care, By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, Called clear blank paper every infant mind!
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