A TRUE STORK STORY.

BY MRS. MARGARET B. PEEKE.

"Did He give us the beautiful stork above, On the chimney-top, with its large round nest?" —Gottleib. "No, not the stork; by God in heaven, As a blessing, the dear white stork was given." —Longfellow.

"No house so blessed as that whereon the white stork has built its nest," says the voice of the people who live in Holland, Germany, and the regions of the Northland; "and nothing else brings the benediction of peace and domestic joy that the dear white stork does, for it sheds over the household something of its own spirit."

Far back in the days of ancient Greece, when Priam was King of Troy, and the beauty of Helen was rousing the nation to war, Juno, the jealous goddess, is said to have changed a sister of the king into a white stork because she boasted of her beauty, but, knowing that she was as lovely mentally as physically, allowed her to retain all her amiable qualities. Whether this is the reason of the stork's virtues or not we can not tell, but in all the countries of the Old World it is regarded with an affection bordering on veneration. Even in the language of the ancient Hebrews we find the word used for stork signifying "pious" or "blessed."

Early in the spring of 1880 a pair of newly wedded storks flew over the town of Löwenberg, Germany, to find a suitable home for their summer housekeeping. Those who saw them used every art to attract them to their houses, but in vain. Even the Mayor, or Burgomaster, failed to entice them to settle on his handsome house, where the chimney seemed to have been built on purpose for a stork's nest. The stork husband saw this at a glance, and, ambitious to begin life under the most favorable circumstances, he said to his wife, in tones quite positive,

"We will build here, my dear; there is no place like it in the whole town."

But the stork wife replied even more positively: "By no means, my dear. Too public, by far. Imagine our dainty children annoyed from day to day by the rattling of carts over the stones, the shouts of noisy boys on their way to school, and on Sundays the ringing of church bells. No, no, it would never do. I have found a most delightful spot, shaded from the hot sun by the broad-leafed linden-tree, and far removed from noise and confusion. There we can rear our little family in seclusion, and send out into the world storks that will be an honor to it. Where is it? On the top of the barn at the cross-roads; not another such place for a stork's nest in the whole region."

"Just as you say, my dear," said his storkship. "I'll bring the sticks directly."

Slowly the nest went up. Stick by stick, selected by the stork husband with great care, and brought from hedge and forest and orchard, until the nest was completed, the last stick having been properly laid, and Mrs. Stork settled herself with a satisfied air and began housekeeping. In a few days eggs were to be seen in the nest; beautiful eggs all mottled with yellow. Now Mrs. Stork took no more long flights—not even to see what her friends were doing—but she busied herself at home sitting upon the eggs to keep them warm. Three weeks passed by in patience, and then one morning the good creature was delighted by the sound of young storklings under her wings, chattering with their little beaks or mandibles, and the stork papa and stork mamma did nothing but wait upon them.

Summer days' drew near before the storklings could fly. The air was parched and heated, and the barn had become as dry as tinder; if there could only be a shower they would have strength to try their wings.

"Oh, how glad I am to see that cloud!" said the stork mamma, as a little: shadow floated above the western horizon; "all my fledglings need is a shower, and then they will fly to-morrow."

Larger and darker grew the storm-cloud, until at last the whole sky was covered. From the north burst sharp flashes of lightning that shot across the heavens, cutting the darkness of the clouds as with a knife; then the thunder began to roll in its grand monotone over the world; but the little storks were not afraid, for had not their mother said this was just what was needed, and was she not flying over their heads telling them what it all meant, and picturing to them the delight they would feel when once they found themselves upborne by the dreamy, delicious air, in the first ecstasy of flying.

Suddenly there came a crash, a blinding light, and deafening shock, almost stunning the brave mother bird caring so tenderly for her children; and when she recovered her consciousness it was to see flames kindling on the barn, that would burn like tinder, and her storklings would be burned to death in the heat.

Without a second's pause to consider what might be done, she plunged into the flames and brought out one of her children in her beak. She flew to a meadow near by, where a little brook trickled over a pebbly bed, and laying her burden under the overhanging alders she flew back for another. This, too, she brought to the meadow and laid by the side of its brother. One more remained; she must hasten to its rescue; but, alas! just as she neared the blazing barn she saw the nest and the little stork fall through the roof into the fire below. A crowd of spectators had now gathered around, and every heart stood still when the mother stork again plunged into the crackling flames and smoke for her child.

Slowly she arose the third time, with something in her beak; but now she flew slowly and heavily, as if she was weary, and took her way to the meadow brook again, left it with its brother and sister, and the papa flying overhead to guard them; then she went a little distance farther and stretched herself on the ground, cruelly burned.

The little brook rippled and murmured, the breeze blew up from the west, but none of these things had power to ease the sufferings of the brave bird, who had risked her life for her children.

The Burgomaster, passing this way soon after, found the poor creature, and ordered her to be carried tenderly to a house in the village, where she should be nursed and cared for. The best physician in Löwenberg was sent for; the children employed all their spare moments in catching mice and frogs for the invalid; older ones brought soft linen to dress the burns with, while the Burgomaster himself drove up every morning to ask after her.

The stork papa devoted himself to the children, flying over every little while to tell his wife how they were getting along. With all this attention, it was no wonder that she improved rapidly, was soon able to fly again and join her family, who by this time were quite up in the art of flying, and could stand on one foot on a lily-pad, and catch frogs as well as the best.

The good people of Löwenberg said that many a saint had been less brave and heroic, few had shown such patience, and none had been willing to die for others as had this white stork mamma; therefore she should be the patron saint of the village, and she and her children honored for evermore.