At first I had
to keep dodging my head about to keep my face away from his bill, as
he turned round; but all of a sudden he broke the little window at
the back of the cab, thrust his head through, and would keep it
there, notwithstanding that I kept pulling him back. Consequently
when we drove up to my house there was a mob of about a thousand
strong around us. I got him in as well as I could, and shut the door.
How can I describe the spending of that evening? How can I get
sufficient power out of the English language to let you know what a
nuisance that bird was to us? How can I tell you of the cool manner
in which he inspected our domestic arrangements, walking slowly from
room to room, and standing on one leg till his curiosity was
satisfied, or how describe the expression of wretchedness that he
threw over his entire person when he was tethered to the banisters,
and found out that, owing to our limited accommodation he was to
remain in the hall all night, or picture the way in which he ate the
snails specially provided for him, verifying to the letter the
naturalist's description of his appetite. How can you who have _not_
had a stork staying with you have any idea of the change that came
over his temper after his supper, how he pecked at everybody who came
near him; how he stood sentinel at the foot of the stairs; how my
wife and I made fruitless attempts to get past, followed by
ignominious retreats; how at last we outmanoeuvred him by
throwing a tablecloth over his head, and then rushing by him, gained
the top of the stairs before he could disentangle himself.
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