TRUMPETER SWAN. 213 
they have been comparatively strangers, except at rare 
intervals. Not far in the distant past, they were annually 
seen with us on the large lakes and rivers, and frequent- 
ly feeding in immense bayous. Of all the birds that 
swim the waters with shapely forms, gracefulness of 
proportion, elegance of contour, the swan exceeds them 
all, as it floats on the bosom of some broad lake, or 
wide and deeply flowing river. It is larger than other 
wild fowl, and the rare grace of its movements, the 
litheness of its arched neck, its jet black bill, with the 
deep yellow streak running in a diminutive line from the 
eye, the spotless white, seeming purer and whiter than 
the drifted snow, attracts our admiration at once. They 
are the synonym of beauty and grace, and our imagina- 
tion, however vivid it may be, can picture nothing more 
graceful, and quietly beautiful, than one of these birds 
on the water, in its uniform of frosted white. When 
we see a whiteness that is absolutely colorless, resting 
inanimaiely, it attracts our attention, for we see in it, 
what the world recognizes as an emblem of perfect 
purity. But when we see the swan, an animated being, 
moving quietly and gracefully with arched neck, sail- 
ing so queenly and majestically through the rippling 
water, gently propelling itself forward with its great 
wide black feet, the sunshine making conspicuous the 
glossy white, and faint shadows seeming to flit and 
follow each other, we gaze in pleasing wonder on the trail 
of incandescence left in their wake. 
For ages past their beauty, grace and elegance has 
been recognized. When in ancient times nobility sought 
to build vessels whose cost was disregarded, whose 
beauty of design was to reach perfection itself, the 
uppermost thoughts in the mind of the builders were, 
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