ith it as long as I have. It is a worse
riddle to me than it was the day I heard it."

"What did they do then?" asked Buster John.

"Well," Mr. Rabbit replied, "they sat there and sang just as I told
you. Brother Buzzard would stop to catch his breath and then break
out,--

"'Oh, Susy, my Susy, gangloo!
Oh, Milly, my Molly, langloo!'

and then Brother Crow would squall out,--

"'Oh, Susy, my Susy, gangloo!
Oh, Milly, my Molly, langloo!'

"They sang on until they began to get hungry, and as Brother Buzzard
seemed to be the biggest and fattest of the two, everybody thought he
would hold out the longest. But Brother Crow was plucky, and he sang
right along in spite of the emptiness in his craw. He didn't squall as
loud as he did at first, but every time Brother Buzzard sang, Brother
Crow would sing, too. By and by, they both began to get very weak.

"At last, as luck would have it, Brother Crow saw his wife flying
over, and he sang out as loud as he could:--

[Illustration: THE SINGING MATCH]

"'Oh, Susy!--Go tell my children--my Susy,--to bring my
dinner--gangloo!--and tell them--oh, Milly, my Molly,--to bring it
quickly--langloo!'

"It wasn't very long after that before all Brother Crow's family
connections came flying to help him, and as soon as they found out how
matters stood they brought him more victuals than he knew what to do
with. Brother Buzzard held out as long as he could, but he was obliged
to give up, and since that time there has been mighty little singing
in the Buzzard family.

"But that isn't all," remarked Mr. Rabbit, as solemnly as if he were
pointing a moral. "Since that time Brother Crow, who was dressed in
white, has been wearing the black suit that he won from Brother
Buzzard."

"Speaking of singing birds," said Mr. Thimblefinger, turning to Mrs.
Meadows, "what is that song I used to hear you humming about a little
bird?"

"Oh, it's just a nonsense song," replied Mrs. Meadows. "It has no
beginning and no ending."

But the children said they wanted to hear it, anyhow, and so Mrs.
Meadows sang about--

THE LITTLE BIRD.

There was once a little Bird so full of Song
That he sang in the Rose-Bush the whole Night long.

And "Oh," said the Redbird to the Jay,
"Don't you wish you could sit and sing that way?"
"Mercy, no!" said the Jay; "for he sings too late;
I sing well enough for to please my Mate."

There was once a little Bird so