238 Hans Brinker

 

STORKS’ NESTS ON THE ROOFS.

return in the spring, Ben’s visit to thé’ land of dikes would be
over.

Therefore he pressed eagerly forward as Van Mounen led
the way through the fish-market, anxious to see if storks in .
Holland were anything like the melancholy specimens he had
seen in the Zodlogical Gardens of London.

It was the same old story. A tamed bird is a sad bird,
say what you will. These storks lived in a sort of kennel,
chained by the feet, like felons, though supposed to be honored
by being kept at the public expense. In summer they were
allowed to walk about the market, where the fish-stalls were
like so many free dining-saloons to them. Untasted delicacies,
in the form of raw fish and butcher’s offals, lay about their
kennels now; but the city-guests preferred to stand upon one
leg, curving back their long neck, and leaning their head side-
wise, in a blinking revery. How gladly they would have
changed their petted state for the busy life of some hard-