ir
forefingers and said "Ah!" Only the fishermen, who had heard the real
bird sing, shook their heads and said it all sounded very nice, and
very much alike, too; but somehow--they didn't quite know
how--something seemed lacking.

And so the real Nightingale was sent into exile, and the imitation one
slept on a satin cushion close to the Emperor's bed. All the jewels
and precious stones that had been showered on it as presents were
arranged around the edge of the cushion, and it was given the title of
the Emperor's Own Court Singer and advanced to the very highest rank,
that of First on the Left; for the left was thought to be the highest
station, as the Emperor wore his heart on that side, just like
ordinary people.

The Court musician wrote twenty-five volumes on the imitation bird.
The work was very tedious and dull, and full of the longest Chinese
words you can imagine; and people always said they had read it and
pretended to have enjoyed it, or else they would have been thought
stupid and have had their bodies trampled upon.

A whole year passed by in this fashion, and at last the Emperor and
his Court and all the Chinese people knew every turn and trill of the
Nightingale's song by heart, and this pleased them more than ever.
They often sang with it, and the street-urchins, even, could sing
"Tchoochoohuh juggjugg jugg," and the Emperor just the same. It was
really delightful.

One evening the Emperor lay in his bed listening to the bird which was
singing its very best. Suddenly it stopped with a jerk, and bang!
something had snapped in its inside, and all its wheels ran down with
a whirr, and then there was a dead silence.

The Emperor sprang out of bed and sent for the Court physician, but he
could do nothing. Then a watchmaker was fetched in, and after he had
talked a lot, and poked and examined the inside a great deal, he
managed to put it in something like working order again.

"You must not use it too much," he said, "it is nearly worn out, and
one can never put in fresh works again and be sure of the music being
as good as before."

At this there was great mourning all over the country, for the
imitation bird must only be allowed to sing once a year in future, and
even that might prove too much for it.

And when these performances were given the Court musician made a short
speech, full of very long words, proving that it sang as beautifully
as ever, and so the Court thought it did and were very we