that I thought one would do _this_ time, and I picked it and gave it to
him. Bruno ran his hand once or twice up and down the flowers,--like a
musician trying an instrument,--producing a most delicious delicate
tinkling as he did so. I had never heard flower-music before,--I don't
think one can unless one's in the "eerie" state,--and I don't know
quite how to give you an idea of what it was like, except by saying
that it sounded like a peal of bells a thousand miles off.

When he had satisfied himself that the flowers were in tune, he seated
himself on the mouse (he never seemed really comfortable anywhere
else), and, looking up at me with a merry twinkle in his eyes, he
began. By the way, the tune was rather a curious one, and you might
like to try it for yourself, so here are the notes:

[Illustration]

"Rise, oh, rise! The daylight dies:
The owls are hooting, ting, ting, ting!
Wake, oh, wake! Beside the lake
The elves are fluting, ting, ting, ting!
Welcoming our fairy king
We sing, sing, sing."

He sang the first four lines briskly and merrily, making the bluebells
chime in time with the music; but the last two he sang quite slowly and
gently, and merely waved the flowers backward and forward above his
head. And when he had finished the first verse, he left off to explain.

"The name of our fairy king is Obberwon" (he meant Oberon, I believe),
"and he lives over the lake--_there_--and now and then he comes in a