4 o6 THE DOMESTIC SWAN. 



out, webs grew betwixt his fingers, and feathers sprouted out from 

 beneath his flannel waistcoat. In a few minutes more, his mouth 

 had all the appearance of a beak, and he actually became a swan ; 

 and to this day he is seen to frequent swamps and lakes, as being 

 places the most secure against fire, which had done such mischief to 



his family. 



" Stagna colit, patulosque lacus ; ignemque perosus, 

 Quae colat, elegit contraria flumina flammis." 



Once I had an opportunity, which rarely occurs, of being with a 

 swan in its last illness. Although I gave no credence to the extra- 

 vagant notion which antiquity had entertained of melody from the 

 mouth of the dying swan, still I felt anxious to hear some plaintive 

 sound or other, some soft inflection of the voice, which might tend 

 to justify that notion in a small degree. But I was disappointed. 

 This poor swan was a great favourite, and had been the pride of the 

 lake time out of mind. Those who spend their life in the country, 

 and pay attention to the ordinary movements of birds, will easily 

 observe a change in them, whenever their health is on the decline. 

 I perceived that the plumage of this swan put on a weather-beaten 

 appearance, and that the bird itself no longer raised the feathers of 

 his wings, as he passed through the water before me. Judging that 

 he was unwell, I gave orders that he should be supplied with bread 

 and boiled potatoes. Of these he ate sparingly, and in a day or two 

 he changed his quarters, probably for want of sufficient shelter 

 from the wind. Having found his way down to the stables, he got 

 upon a small fish-pond there, out of the reach of storms. From this 

 time he never fended for food, but he continued to take a little 

 white bread now and then from my hand. At last, he refused 

 this ; and then he left the water for good and all, and sat down on 

 the margin of the pond, with evident signs of near-approaching 

 death. He soon became too weak to support his long neck in an 

 upright position. He nodded, and then tried to recover himself, 

 and then nodded again, and again held up his head ; till at last, 

 quite enfeebled and worn out, his head fell gently on the grass, his 

 wings became expanded a trifle or so, and he died whilst I was 

 looking on. This was in the afternoon, and I had every facility of 

 watching his departing hour, for I was attending the masons, some 



