“‘The truth is, however, that they are so wrapped up in each other and their mutual affairs, that they will not listen to what I have to say, and so I make no progress. I am but a single sound sighing in a wilderness! If by chance I could persuade them, or, for that matter, anyone else, to do what I know in my mind is the right thing to be done, I am certain I should be a success. I know, though they do not, that my head is as full of dainty melodies as a pomegranate is full of pretty seeds, and that if only my poor tongue-tied condition were remedied, so that I might use that organ as it should be used, I could release an Octave, eight little fellows who beneath my tongue are now held captive; but who, if they were only free, are possessed of such astounding and never-ending ability, as to be able to produce a succession of the most musical notes, the like of which have never before been heard.’ “Here he sighed most mightily, and then it was that I saw he rested in the opening of a shell that is called a ‘conch.’ “‘But,’ said I, ‘how am I to loose your tongue? I am no surgeon, neither have I a knife or other cutting instrument wherewith to perform the operation. Besides, would you not die if such an unpractised hand as mine attempted so delicate a task?’ “‘Not at all!’ he replied, in his soft, slow tone; ‘I should certainly die away just as an echo does when fleeing into space; but it really would not hurt me, I assure you!’ “Still feeling very puzzled, however, I sought for further information, and so said to him, ‘But where and how did you become possessed of all these sweet-sounding notes which you claim your Octave can produce with such never-ending brilliance and variety? And further, supposing I were willing to assist you in the direction you desire, having no knife, as I told you before, is there any other way in which I could safely render you the service that you seek?’ “Instantly he brightened, and, speaking as fast as his poor tongue-tied condition would permit, this is what he replied: “‘These notes that I am simply yearning to release I have carefully gathered together over millions of years! They have come to me from the Ocean and the Breeze, and, as they came, I classified and arranged them. Over me, throughout those infinite ages, the tumbling seas have tossed and the careless winds have blown! But always, whenever a new note I heard, I promptly seized upon it and stored it with the rest, and as it is tens of thousands of years since last I added to my collection, I am now fully satisfied that there are no fresh notes to be obtained. “‘As to the way in which you can assist me, please hold me up to face the wind, or, better still, blow upon me strongly with your breath, and all will be well.’