g the case, there is a proverb about cleanliness that makes one
wonder why the marabou stork doesn't wash himself. It isn't as though he
never wanted it. I have a horrible suspicion about this philosophic old
sloven. I believe his profession of philosophic contemplation is
assumed, because it is the easiest excuse for indolence. Now, a pelican
is not a bird of graceful outline, but he _is_ careful about his
feathers. The pelican is a scrupulous old Dutchman, and the stork is an
uncleanly old Hindu. And uncleanly he must be left, for it takes a deal
to shame a stork. You can't shame a bird that wraps itself in a
convenient philosophy. "Look here--look at me!" you can imagine a
pelican cleanliness-missionary saying to the stork. "See how white and
clean I keep all my feathers!" "Um," says the stork, "it only makes 'em
a different colour." "But observe! I just comb through my pinions with
my beak, so, and they all lie neat and straight!" "Well, and what's the
good of that?" grunts the stork. "And then you see," says the pelican,
ignoring the question, "with a good long beak you can reach everywhere,
over your back and under your wings; see, I'm as clean under my wings as
anywhere else, although it's covered up!" "Beastly vanity," growls the
old Hindu, getting bored. "Then," continues the Dutchman, "you give
yourself a good shake, and there you are!" "And then," says the
philosopher sarcastically, "to-morrow, I suppose, you'll have to do it
all over again?" "Of course!" "Oh! I hate a fool!" says the stork, and
closes the lecture.

[Illustration]

Thus the marabou. The ordinary white stork is comparatively respectable,
and so is the adjutant--or comparatively almost respectable, let us say;
you can't be too cautious in giving a personal character to a stork.
For long, long, the stork has enjoyed a reputation for solemn wisdom,
for philosophical dignity. Now for the first time I venture to question
this reputation--to impeach the stork as a humbug. It is easy to achieve
a reputation for profound and ponderous wisdom, so long as one looks
very solemn and says nothing. This is the stork's recipe. Go up to Billy
here, or one of the marabous, as he stands with his shoulders humped up
about his head, and make a joke. He won't see it. He will lift his
eyebrows with a certain look of contempt, and continue to
cogitate--about nothing. If the joke is a very bad pun--such a frightful
pun that even a stork will see and resent it--perha