I
passed anything but a pleasant day there, my thoughts constantly
reverting to our expected visitors. At four o'clock I took a cab to
the docks, and on arriving there inquired for the ship, which was
pointed out to me as "the one with the crowd on the quay." On driving
up I discovered why there was a crowd, and the discovery did not
bring comfort with it. On the deck, on one leg, stood the stork.
Whether it was the sea voyage, or the leaving his home, or, that
being a stork of high moral principle, he was grieving at the
persistent swearing of the parrot, I do not know, but I never saw a
more melancholy looking object in my life.
I went down on the deck, and did not like the expression of relief
that came over the captain's face when he found what I had come for.
The transmission of the parrot from the ship to the cab was an easy
matter, as he was in a cage; but the stork was merely tethered by one
leg; and although he did his best, when brought to the foot of the
ladder, in trying to get up, he failed utterly, and had to be half
shoved, half hauled all the way. Even then he persisted in getting
outside of every bar--like this. After a great deal of trouble we got
him to the top. I hurried him into the cab, and telling the man to
drive as quickly as possible, got in with my guests.
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