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Bill Rye was saying in a store, one day at Baxter Springs, That in the future every man would be a-wearing wings. Of course I took the statement as a hard-shell Baptist might, And whacked him on the shoulder and observed "You're mighty right." This happened Friday afternoon: -- on Saturday, a week, I met Bill prancing down the street, a-looking like a freak. He said: "I want to shake your hand, for you're the only man That ever said a kindly word to me about my plan. "You said that I was 'mighty right'; and I am here to say, I give an exhibition on the public square to-day. I'm going for to take these wings and climb into the sky, For I have solved the problem, and my name is William Rye. " Bill was a combination of despondency and hope; At times he grew gregarious, at times he used to mope. There wasn't any office that he thought he couldn't fill; He looked at each new ism and embraced it with a will. He entered all new parties. He pioneered new creeds. He ran for sheriff, then he flopped to register of deeds. And then he tried for probate judge; but none of it would work; He tried to be a minister, then flopped to postal clerk. I liked Bill's multiplicity; I liked his gall, and hence I went down to the public square and sat upon the fence. And there was Bill upon a box, surrounded by a crowd, A-showing wings, and talking fast, and feeling very proud. I can't repeat the speech he made; in substance it was this: "Oh! here is an occasion that a person shouldn't miss. I'll show you something finer than you ever yet beheld; For I'm a flying lu-lu, and I've got this thing corralled." He spread his wings, be mounted up, mile after mile the same; Then all at once be flopped and turned, and head first down he came. So great was his velocity that every one turned pale. He went through soil, eight feet of clay, and sixteen feet of shale. A dozen men who knew Bill well, said, when they saw him drop, That William always seemed to try to get a chance to flop. He flopped just once too often. The Baxter people went And filled the hole with cinders, and raised a monument. They carved a line: "Down in the shale reposes William Rye -- He didn't have the thing corralled, and hence he got too fly." And then the Daily Pioneer observed, with seeming scoff: "Soar disappointment was the cause that took the brother off." |
