The Nightingale ¢ tt

book about this celebrated bird,” said the Emperor. But
it was not a book, but a little work of art, contained ina
box; an artificial nightingale, which was to be like a
natural one, but was brilliantly ornamented with dia-
monds, rubies, and sapphires. So soon as the artificial
bird was wound up, he could sing one of the pieces that
he really sang, and then his tail moved up and down,
and shone with silver and gold. Round his neck hung
a little ribbon, and on that was written, (he Emperor
of Japan’s nightingale is poor, compared to that of the
mperor of China. “That is capital!” said they all, and
he who had brought the artificial bird, immediately re-
ceived the title, Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer.
“Now they must sing together; what a duet that will
be!” And so they had to sing together; but it did not go
very well, for the real Nightingale sang in its own way,
and the artificial bird sang waltzes.“That’s not his fault,”
said the Playmaster, “he’s quite perfect, and very much
in my style.” Now the artificial bird was to sing alone.
He had just as much success as the real one, and then it
was much handsomer to look at; it shone like bracelets
and breastpins. Three-and-thirty times over did it sing
the same piece, and yet it was not tired. The people
would gladly have heard it again, but the Emperor said
that the living Nightingale ought to sing something
now. But where was it? No one had noticed that it had
flown away out of the open window, back to the green
wood.

“But what is that!” said the Emperor. And all the
courtiers abused the Nightingale, and declared that it

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