id="page_24"/>24 and the others too, so you needn’t make any more fine speeches.”

Bruin, much relieved, sat down on his haunches, and watched the approach of his companions.

The raccoon advanced cautiously, yet with a very jaunty air. The squirrel was perched on his back, and the wood-pigeon fluttered about his head, in company with a very distinguished-looking gray parrot, with a red tail; while behind came a fat woodchuck, who seemed scarcely more than half-awake.

The creatures all paid their respects to Toto’s grandmother, each in his best manner; the raccoon professed himself charmed to make her acquaintance. “It is more than a year,” he said, “since I had the pleasure of meeting your accomplished grandson. I have esteemed it a high privilege to converse with him, and have enjoyed his society immensely. Now that I have the further happiness of becoming acquainted with his elegant and highly intellectual progenitress, I feel that I am indeed most fortunate. I—”

But here Toto broke in upon the stream of eloquence. “Oh, come, Coon!” he cried, “your politeness is as bad as Bruin’s shyness. Why can’t we all be jolly, as we usually are? You need not be afraid of Granny.

“Come,” he continued, “let us have our story. We can all sit down in a circle, and fancy ourselves around the pool. Whose turn is it to-day? Yours, isn’t it, Cracker?”

“No,” said the squirrel. “It is Coon’s turn. I told my story yesterday.”

“You see, Granny,” said Toto, turning to his grandmother, “we take turns in telling stories, every afternoon. It is such fun! you’d like to hear a story, wouldn’t you, Granny?”

“Very much indeed!” replied the good woman. “Will you take a chair, Mr.—Mr. Coon?” she asked.

“Thank you, no,” replied the raccoon graciously. “My mother earth shall suffice me.” And sitting down, he curled up his tail in a very effective manner, and looked about him 26 meditatively, as if in search of a subject for his story.

“My natural diffidence,” he said, “will render it a difficult task, but still—”

“Oh yes, we know!” said the squirrel. “Your natural diffidence is a fine thing. Go ahead, old fellow!”

At this moment Mr. Coon’s sharp eyes fell upon the poultry-yard, on the fence of which a fine Shanghai cock was sitting. His face lighted up, as if an idea had just struck him. “That is a very fine rooster, madam!” he said, addressing the grandmother,—“a remarkably fine bird. That bird, madam, reminds me strongly of the Golden-breasted Kootoo.”

“And what is the Golden-breasted Kootoo?” asked the grandmother.

The raccoon smiled, and looked slyly round upon his auditors, who had all assumed comfortable attitudes of listening, sure that the story was now coming.

“The story of the Golden-breasted Kootoo,” he 27 said, “was told to me several years ago by a distinguished foreigner, a learned and highly accomplished magpie, who formerly resided in this vicinity, but who is now, unhappily, no longer in our midst.”

“That’s a good one, that is!” whispered the wood chuck to Toto. “He ate that magpie about a year ago; said he loved her so much he couldn’t help it. What a fellow he is!”

“Hush!” said Toto. “He’s beginning!”

And Mr. Coon, dropping his airs and graces, told his story in tolerably plain language, as follows:—

THE GOLDEN-BREASTED KOOTOO.

Once upon a time—and a good time it was—there lived a king. I do not know exactly what his name was, or just where he lived; but it doesn’t matter at all: his kingdom was somewhere between Ashantee and Holland, and his name sounded a little like Samuel, and a little like Dolabella, and a good deal like Chimborazo, and yet it was not quite 28 any of them. But, as I said before, it doesn’t matter. We will call him the King, and that will be all that is necessary, as there is no other king in the story.

This King was very fond of music; in fact, he was excessively fond of it. He kept four bands of music playing all day long. The first was a brass band, the second was a string band, the third was a rubber band, and the fourth was a man who played on the jews-harp. (Some people thought he ought not to be called a band, but he said he was all the jews-harp band there was, and that was very true.) The four bands played all day long on the four sides of the grand courtyard, and the king sat on a throne in the middle and transacted affairs of state. And when His Majesty went to bed at night, the grand chamberlain wound up a musical-box that was in his pillow, and another one in the top bureau-drawer, and they played “The Dog’s-meat Man” and “Pride of the Pirate’s Heart” till daylight did appear.

One day it occurred to the King that it would be 29 an excellent plan for him to learn to sing. He wondered that he had never thought of it before. “You see,” he said, “it would amuse me very much to sing while I am out hunting. I cannot take the bands with me to the forest, for they would frighten away the wild beasts; and I miss my music very much on such occasions. Yes, decidedly, I will learn to sing.”

So he sent for the Chief Musician, and ordered him to teach him to sing. The Chief Musician was delighted, and said they would begin at once. So he sat down at the piano, and struck a note. “O King,” he said, “please sing this note.” And the King sang, in a loud, deep voice, The Chief Musician was enchanted. “Superb!” he cried. “Magnificent! Now, O King, please to sing this note!” and he struck another note: The King sang, in a loud, deep voice, The Chief Musician looked grave. “O King,” he said, “you did not quite understand me. We will try another note.” And he struck another: The King sang, in a loud, deep voice, The Chief Musician looked dejected. “I fear, O King,” he said, “that you can never learn to sing.” “What do you mean by that, Chief Musician?” asked the King. “It is your business to teach me to sing. Do you not know how to teach?” “No man knows better,” replied 31 the Chief Musician. “But Your Majesty has no ear for music. You never can sing but one note.”

At these words the King grew purple in the face. He said nothing, for he was a man of few words; but he rang a large bell, and an executioner appeared. “Take this man and behead him!” said the King. “And send me the Second Musician!”

The Second Musician came,