the eagle promoted a cuckoo to the rank of a nightingale. the cuckoo, proud of its new position, seated itself proudly on an aspen, and began to exhibit its musical talents. after a time, it looks round. all the birds are flying away, some laughing at it, others abusing it. our cuckoo grows angry, and hastens to the eagle with a complaint against the birds.

"have pity on me!" it says. "according to your command, i have been appointed nightingale to these woods, and yet the birds dare to laugh at my singing."

"my friend," answers the eagle, "i am a king, but i am not god. it is

impossible for me to remedy the cause of your complaint. i can order a

cuckoo to be styled a nightingale; but to make a nightingale out of a

cuckoo—that i cannot do."