“Old Ocean says,” proceeded the messenger, “that he cannot give you all of his story, as it would be too long, but that he sends some of it written on this shell, and in this coral and in this bit of sea-weed. In the shell is a drop of pure salt water that if carefully examined will tell you many more wonderful things.” They all thanked the fish kindly for coming so far to bring them these treasures, and begged him to stay and rest, but he declined, saying he had a family at home and must hasten, so he turned to go. “Stay!” cried Bachelor. “Wouldn’t you be willing to come next summer and give us a lecture on the telegraph?” The fish laughed. “Bless you!” said he, “I couldn’t do that. I don’t know enough about it myself. Ask the lightning. He is the head manager, and will give you all the lectures you want. Good-by! the sun is getting low, and I must be off.” And he sped away, leaving the woodpecker writing down “telegraph” and “lightning” on one corner of his memoranda. And now the committee returned, having decided, by unanimous vote, that the mocking-bird should be the leader of the choir, as he could sing any part, and so help along the weak ones whenever he could see the need of it. * * * * * There was a pause after the committee had been told all that had happened during their absence, broken at last by Bachelor. “I’ve been thinking,” said he, “that it might be as well for us to have a reply to Ingersoll.” “What is that?” they asked, for they were getting used to strange things, and did not seem so surprised at the new word. “Ingersoll is a man that says there is no God, and he has written a great many things to prove it,” said Bachelor gravely. The other poor little flowers were too much shocked to say anything, and they all looked at one another dumbly. “Is he blind?” asked a bird. “He must know better,” asserted a fern. “No one could possibly believe such a thing.” “I don’t know whether he is blind, but I think not,” said Bachelor. “They say he has made a great many other people believe as he does because he talks so beautifully.” “How dreadful!” said the flowers, in a sad voice. “They had a man at Chautauqua who answered all he said and proved that it was untrue, but every one did not hear him. I think we ought to have a day to answer Ingersoll,” again said Bachelor. “Yes, we must,” said the north wind; “and we will all prove there _is_ a God. No one could have made me but God.” And he blew and blew until the flowers crouched down almost afraid at his fierceness. When all was quiet again, out hopped a dignified-looking bird. “My friends,” said he, “my wife and I went to church last night, and they sang a beautiful hymn that has long been one of my favorites. I told my wife to listen hard, and this morning, with my help, she was able to sing it. I think it would help on this subject if we were to sing it for you now.” “Sing, sing, sing,” said the brook.