that I
left Para within a month, but meanwhile I had a suit of clothes made
out of Wriggletto's skin, and wore it for years, and then, when the
clothes began to look worn, I had the skin re-tanned and made over
into shoes and slippers. So you see that even after death he was
useful to me. He was a faithful snake, and that is why when I hear
people running down all snakes I tell the story of Wriggletto."

[Illustration: "He used to wind his tail about a fan and he'd wave it
to and fro by the hour." _Chapter XIII._]

There was a pause for a few moments, when Diavolo said, "Uncle Munch,
is that a true story you've been giving us?"

"True?" cried Mr. Munchausen. "True? Why, my dear boy, what a
question! If you don't believe it, bring me your atlas, and I'll show
you just where Para is."

Diavolo did as he was told, and sure enough, Mr. Munchausen did
exactly as he said he would, which Diavolo thought was very
remarkable, but he still was not satisfied.

"You said he could write as well with himself as you or I could with a
pen, Uncle Munch," he said. "How was that?"

"Why that was simple enough," explained Mr. Munchausen. "You see he
was very black, and thirty-nine feet long and remarkably supple and
slender. After a year of hard study he learned to bunch himself into
letters, and if he wanted to say anything to me he'd simply form
himself into a written sentence. Indeed his favourite attitude when in
repose showed his wonderful gift in chirography as well as his
affection for me. If you will get me a card I will prove it."

Diavolo brought Mr. Munchausen the card and upon it he drew the
following:

[Illustration: A snake in the form of 'UncleMunch']

"There," said Mr. Munchausen. "That's the way Wriggletto always used
to lie when he was at rest. His love for me was very affecting."

XIV

THE POETIC JUNE-BUG, TOGETHER WITH SOME REMARKS ON THE GILLYHOOLY BIRD

"Uncle Munch," said Diavolo one afternoon as a couple of bicyclers
sped past the house at breakneck speed, "which would you rather have,
a bicycle or a horse?"

"Well, I must say, my boy, that is a difficult question to answer,"
Mr. Munchausen replied after scratching his head dubiously for a few
minutes. "You might as well ask a man which he prefers, a hammock or a
steam-yacht. To that question I should reply that if I wanted to sell
it, I'd rather have a steam-yacht, but for a pleasant swing on a cool
piazza in midsummer or under the apple-tr