e seen?" they asked. "Shall we go much further
into the country?"

"There is nothing more worth seeing," replied the stork-mother.
"Beyond this luxuriant neighbourhood there is nothing but wild
forests, where the trees grow close to each other, and are still more
closely entangled by prickly creeping plants, weaving such a wall of
verdure, that only the elephant, with his strong clumsy feet, can
there tread his way. The snakes are too large for us there, and the
lizards too lively. If ye would go to the desert, ye will meet with
nothing but sand; it will fill your eyes, it will come in gusts, and
cover your feathers. No, it is best here. Here are frogs and
grass-hoppers. I shall remain here, and so shall you."

And they remained. The old ones sat in their nest upon the graceful
minaret; they reposed themselves, and yet they had enough to do to
smooth their wings and rub their beaks on their red stockings; and
they stretched out their necks, saluted gravely, and lifted up their
heads with their high foreheads and fine soft feathers, and their
brown eyes looked so wise.

The female young ones strutted about proudly among the juicy reeds,
stole sly glances at the other young storks, made acquaintances, and
slaughtered a frog at every third step, or went lounging about with
little snakes in their bills, which they fancied looked well, and
which they knew would taste well.

The male young ones got into quarrels; struck each other with their
wings; pecked at each other with their beaks, even until blood flowed.
Then they all thought of engaging themselves--the male and the female
young ones. It was for that they lived, and they built nests, and got
again into new quarrels; for in these warm countries every one is so
hot-headed. Nevertheless they were very happy, and this was a great
joy to the old storks. Every day there was warm sunshine--every day
plenty to eat. They had nothing to think of except pleasure. But
yonder, within the splendid palace of their Egyptian host, as they
called him, there was but little pleasure to be found.

The wealthy, mighty chief lay upon his couch, stiffened in all his
limbs--stretched out like a mummy in the centre of the grand saloon
with the many-coloured painted walls: it was as if he were lying in a
tulip. Kinsmen and servants stood around him. Dead he was not, yet it
could hardly be said that he lived. The healing bog-flower from the
faraway lands in the north--that which she was to