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 called 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 ship.

"Hush!" 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' nobody near;

Guess he don'o' 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;

an' that,

Peeks over his shoulder, this way
Fur to see 'f the' 's any one passin' 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 was n't so nice by half.

Away with a bellow fled the calf,

And what was that? Did the gosling laugh?

"T is 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 awful sight

O' fun in 't when ye come to light."

MORAL.

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.

J T. Trowbridge

No Sect in Heaven.

Talking of sects till late one eve,

Of the various doctrines the saints believe,
That night I stood in a troubled dream,
By the side of a darkly-flowing stream.

And a "Churchman" down to the river came
When I heard a strange voice call his name,
"Good father, stop; when you cross this tide,
You must leave your robes on the other side."

But the aged father did not mind,

And his long gown floated out behind,
As down to the stream his way he took,
His pale hands clasping a gilt-edged book.

"I'm bound for Heaven, and when I'm there
I shall want my book of Common Prayer;
And though I put on a starry crown,
I should feel quite lost without my gown."

Then he fixed his eyes on the shining track,
But his gown was heavy, and held him back;
And the poor old father tried in vain,
A single step in the flood to gain.

I saw him again on the other side,
But his silk gown floated on the tide;
And no one asked in that blissful spot,
Whether he belonged to "the Church "

or not.

When down to the river a Quaker strayed,
His dress of a sober hue was made;

"My coat and hat must be all gray,
I cannot go any other way."

Then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin, And staidly, solemnly, waded in,

And his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight Over his forehead, so cold and white.

But a strong wind carried away his hat;
A moment he silently sighed over that,
And then, as he gazed on the farther shore,
The coat, slipped off, and was seen no more.

As he entered Heaven, his suit of gray
Went quietly sailing away, away,
And none of the angels questioned him
About the width of his beaver's brim.

Next came Dr. Watts with a bundle of Psalms,
Tied nicely up in his aged arms,

And hymns as many, a very wise thing,

That the people in Heaven, "all round," might sing.

But I thought that he heaved an anxious sigh,

As he saw that the river ran broad and high,

And looked rather surprised as, one by one

The Psalms and Hymns in the wave went down.

And after him with his MSS.,

Came Wesley, the pattern of godliness;

But he cried, "Dear me, what shall I do?

The water has soaked them through and through."

And there on the river, far and wide,

Away they went down the swollen tide,

And the saint astonished passed through alone,
Without his manuscripts up to the throne.

Then gravely walking, two saints by name,
Down to the stream together came;
But as they stopped at the river's brink,
I saw one saint from the other shrink.

"Sprinkled or plunged, may I ask you, friend,
How you attained to life's great end?"
"Thus, with a few drops on my brow,"
"But I have been dipped, as you'll see me now

"And I really think it will hardly do,
As I'm 'close communion,' to cross with you;
You're bound, I know, to the realms of bliss,
But you must go that way, and I'll go this."

Then straightway plunging with all his might,
Away to the left—his friend at the right,
Apart they went from this world of sin,
But at last together they entered in.

And, now, when the river is rolling on,
A Presbyterian Church went down;

Of women there seemed an innumerable throng,
But the men I could count as they passed along.

And concerning the road, they could never agree,
The old or the new way, which it could be,
Nor even a moment paused to think
That both would lead to the river's brink.

And a sound of murmuring long and loud
Came ever up from the moving crowd,
"You're in the old way, and I'm in the new
That is the false, and this is the true;"

Or, "I'm in the old way, and you're in the new,
That is the false, and this is the true.”

But the brethren only seemed to speak,
Modest the sisters walked, and meek,
And if ever one of them chanced to say