At last Mr. Capercailzie, called by his intimate friends Cock-o'-the-woods, advanced to the log. Ah, but he was a handsome bird! Very large, he weighed at least sixteen pounds, with brilliant plumage of black, brown and white, and dark green feathers in his chest. The scarlet patches of skin over his eyes were very bright in the moonlight. He looked slowly around, bowing to the applause, and said: "I thank you for your welcome. In the name of all who have come from distant lands, from Asia and Europe, I thank you. We have come to hold a Grouse Jubilee. Surely we may well hold such a meeting and review our history and accomplishments, if the people who are really only new comers into our lands can hold a jubilee over a Queen whose family have been in England but a few hundred years. What are a hundred years in the history of our family who lived in England and northern Europe thousands of years ago? "I will call upon the willow grouse to tell us the history of our famous family as he knows it." Slowly Mr. Willow Grouse advanced to the log, chewing the bud of a birch tree as he came. He bowed and said: "Mr. Chairman, you must excuse my slow speech, but you know I am the eldest brother of the grouse family and am not so strong as I used to be. Our history is certainly wonderful! Thousands of years ago we came southward with the ice and as the ice melted we flew north again. Today we live in many lands. I have traveled from Scandinavia with my wife and children, flying over Siberia and Alaska. My wife and I dress alike and our gray summer suits are good for traveling. In winter we prefer white coats, for then the hunter can not tell us from the snow." Just then a bird near us muttered: "That is nothing remarkable. I have three suits every year." "Hush," said a bird near him, "you must not interrupt." But the willow grouse had finished, and after the young grouse had given him the front seat, for they are very kind to the old, the grouse who had boasted of his coats said: "Mr. President, I come from the high mountain peaks. Men call me ptarmigan or winged, because I have such thick plumage. As this is summer my legs and feet are quite bare and my coat is the color of the twigs, but you should see my winter suit! It is thick and soft and white as snow, and thick downy stockings cover my feet. They help me to make my way over the snow. In the autumn my coat changes to gray--the color of the rocks on the mountain side. It is hard work sometimes to find enough to eat so high up in the mountains, but better a dish of leaves in freedom than to live on plenty in constant fear of the gun of the hunter." "Cock, cock!" said the grouse, and it sounded so much like our "hear, hear!" that I almost laughed aloud.