Successful Recitations Part 13

"Frogs, mice, worms, snails, and eels," repeated my wife. "James, do you expect me to provide supper and breakfast of this description for the horrid thing?"

"Well, my dear, we must do our best for baby's sake, you know, for baby's sake," and, getting my hat, I left as usual for the office. I pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p 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. 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 appet.i.te. 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 rus.h.i.+ng by him, gained the top of the stairs before he could disentangle himself.

Added to all this we had to endure language from that parrot which was really shocking: indeed, so scurrilous did he become that we had at last to take him and lock him up in the coal-hole, where, owing to the darkness of his bedroom, or from fatigue, he presently swore himself to sleep.

Well, by this time, we were quite ready for rest, and the forgetfulness which, we hoped, sleep would bring with it; but our peace was not to last long. About 2 A.M. my wife clutched my hair and woke me up. "James, James, listen!" I listened. I heard a sort of scrambling noise outside the door. "The water running into the cistern, my dear," I said sleepily.

"James, don't be absurd; that horrid thing has broken its string, and is coming upstairs."

I listened again. It really sounded like it.

"James, if you don't go at once, _I_ must. You know the nursery door is always left open, and if that horrid thing should get in to baby----"

"But, my dear," said I, "what am I to do in my present defenceless state of clothing, if he should take to pecking?"

My wife's expression of contempt at the idea of considering myself before the baby determined me at once, come what might, to go and do him battle. Out I went, and there, sure enough, he was on the landing resting himself after his unusual exertion by tucking up one leg. He looked so subdued that I was about to take him by the string and lead him downstairs, when he drew back his head, and in less time than it takes to relate, I was back in my room, bleeding from a severe wound in the leg. I shouted out to the nurse to shut the door, and determined to let the infamous bird go where he liked. I bound up my leg and went to bed again; but the thought that there was a stork wandering about the house prevented me from getting any more sleep.

From certain sounds that we heard, we had little doubt that he was spending some of his time in the cupboard where we kept our surplus crockery, and an inspection the next day confirmed this.

In the morning I ventured cautiously out, and finding he was in our spare bedroom, I shut the door upon him. I then sent for a large sack, and with the help of the tablecloth, and the boy who cleans our boots, we got him into it without any further personal damage. I took him off in this way to the station, and confided him and the parrot to the guard of the early train. As the train moved off, I heard a yell and a very improper expression from the guard. I have reason to believe that the stork had freed himself from the wrapper, and had begun pecking again.

We have determined that, taking our chance about a place in my uncle's will, we will never again have anything to do with any foreign birds, however much he may ask and desire it.

AN UNMUSICAL NEIGHBOUR.

BY WILLIAM THOMSON.

I once knew a man who was musical mad-- A hundred years old was the fiddle he had; I never complained, but whenever he played I wished I had lived when that fiddle was made.

THE CHALICE.

BY DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY.

Swift, storm-scud, raced the morning sky, As light along the road I fared; Stern was the way, yet glad was I, Though feet and breast and brow were bared; For fancy, like a happy child, Ran on before and turned and smiled.

The track grew fair with turf and tree, The air was blithe with bird and flower.

Boon nature's gentlest wizardry Was potent with the bounteous hour: A raptured languor o'er me crept; I laid me down at noon and slept.

I woke, and there, as in a dream, Which holds some boding fear of wrong, By fog-bound fen and sluggard stream I dragged my leaden steps along.

My blood ran ice; I turned and spied A shrouded figure at my side.

"And who art thou that pacest here?"

He answered like a hollow wind, Not heard by any outer ear, But in dim chambers of the mind.

"I walk," he said, "in ways of shame, The comrade of thy wasted fame."

A pa.s.sion clamoured in my breast, For mirthless laughter, and I laughed; In mine the phantom's cold hand pressed A cup, and in self's spite I quaffed.

It clung like slime; 'twas black like ink: Death is less bitter than that drink.

"This chalice scarce can fail," said he, "Till thou and I shall fail from earth;'

And we will walk in company, And waste the night with shameful mirth.

I pledge thy fate; now pledge thou mine."

I pledged him in the bitter wine.

"Had'st thou not slept at noon," he said, "Thou should'st have walked in praise and fame.

Now loathest thou thine heart and head, And both thine eyes are blind with shame."

His voice was like a hollow wind In dim death-chambers in the mind.

He turned; he bared a demon face; He filled the night with ribald song; For many a league, in evil case, We danced our leaden feet along.

And every rood, in that foul wine, I pledged his fate: he drank to mine.

"What comfort has thou?" suddenly To me my phantom comrade saith.

"I know," said I, "where'er I lie, The end of each man's road is death.

I pray that I may find it soon; I weary of night's changeless moon."

Then, in such lays of hideous mirth As never tainted human breath, He cursed all things of human worth-- Made mock of life and scorn of death.

"Art weary?" quoth he; and said I: "Fain here to lay me down and die."

"Then join," he saith, "my roundelay; Curse G.o.d and die, and make an end.

Fled is thine hope, and done thy day; The fleshworm is thine only friend.

Thy mouth is fouled, and he, I ween, Alone can scour thy palate clean."

I said: "I justify the rod; I claim its heaviest stripe mine own.

Did justice cease to dwell with G.o.d, Then G.o.d were toppled from His throne!

Fill up thy chalice to the brink-- Thy bitterest, and I will drink."

With looks like any devil's grim, He poured the brewage till it ran With fetid horror at the brim.

"Now, drink," he gibed, "and play the man!"

He stretched the chalice forth. It stank That my soul failed me, and I drank.

With loathing soul and quivering flesh I drank, and lo! the draught I took Was limpid-clear, and sweet and fresh As ever came from summer brook Or fountain, where the trees have made Long from the sun a pleasant shade.

He hurled the chalice to the sky; A bright hand caught it; and was gone.

He blessed me with a sovereign eye, And like a G.o.d's his visage shone, And there he took me by the hand, And led me towards another land.