e Zoological Gardens of
London.

It was the same old story. A tamed bird is a sad bird, say what you
will. These storks lived in a sort of kennel, chained by the feet
like felons, though supposed to be honored by being kept at the public
expense. In summer they were allowed to walk about the market, where
the fish stalls were like so many free dining saloons to them. Untasted
delicacies in the form of raw fish and butcher's offal lay about their
kennels now, but the city guests preferred to stand upon one leg,
curving back their long necks and leaning their heads sidewise, in a
blinking reverie. How gladly they would have changed their petted state
for the busy life of some hardworking stork mother or father, bringing
up a troublesome family on the roof of a rickety old building where
flapping wind-mills frightened them half to death every time they
ventured forth on a frolic!

Ben soon made up his mind, and rightly, too, that The Hague with its
fine streets and public parks shaded with elms, was a magnificent city.
The prevailing costume was like that of London or Paris, and his British
ears were many a time cheered by the music of British words. The shops
were different in many respects from those on Oxford Street and the
Strand, but they often were illumined by a printed announcement that
English was "spoken within." Others proclaimed themselves to have London
stout for sale, and one actually promised to regale its customers with
English roast beef.

Over every possible shop door was the never-failing placard, TABAK
TE KOOP (tobacco to be sold). Instead of colored glass globes in the
windows, or high jars of leeches, the drugstores had a gaping Turk's
head at the entrance--or, if the establishment was particularly fine, a
wooden mandarin entire, indulging in a full yawn.

Some of these queer faces amused Ben exceedingly; they seemed to have
just swallowed a dose of physic, but Van Mounen declared he could not
see anything funny about them. A druggist showed his sense by putting
a Gaper before his door, so that his place would be known at once as an
apotheek and that was all there was to it.

Another thing attracted Ben--the milkmen's carts. These were small
affairs, filled with shiny brass kettles, or stone jars, and drawn by
dogs. The milkman walked meekly beside his cart, keeping his dog in
order, and delivering the milk to customers. Certain fish dealers had
dogcarts, also, and when a herring dog chanced to