192 THE MUSICAL SWAN. 



very absurd in Albertus Magnus to speak of the Swan as the 

 " largest of singing birds," but it is not much wiser to call it a mute. 

 That it is not absolutely voiceless may be ascertained without 

 trouble ; and it is well known to those acquainted with the habits 

 of the bird, that in spring and summer, when leading about its 

 young brood upon the water, it breathes a soft plaintive cry, 

 which, coming from an aquatic bird, is no bad apology for a 

 song. 



It is not at all improbable that the exaggerated notion which 

 formerly obtained on this subject may have originated in part 

 from confounding Cygnus olor with the Hooper or Whistling 

 Swan (Cygnus ferus), and thus attributing to the former the 

 qualities of both. Not that the Hooper can make any great 

 pretensions to song either, though he does constantly make 

 himself heard, " clangingly on sounding pinions," as Homer ex- 

 presses it ; and what is still more to the purpose, is found to this 

 day about " Cayster's flowery side." That the loud trumpeting 

 call of the Hooper is not an unmusical sound is vouched for by 

 Bechstein no mean authority on singing birds who proposed 

 to give it the specific name of musicus. But as priority is 

 everything in the nomenclature of science, Limueus's appellation of 

 ferus is still retained in preference. The main point, however, 

 in the ancient story, is not that the Swan was vocal, but that its 

 vocal powers were greatest, and that it sang most melodiously, 

 just before its death. " It never smokes but there is fire," says 

 the proverb, and though there is no doubt a great deal of poetic 

 dressing in this " Swan song " story, we are yet strongly inclined 

 to suspect that there is truth at the bottom if we could only get 

 at it. 



Let us try. Bechstein's Musical Swan will still help us. 



The Hooper is an occasional winter visitor to the British 

 Islands, and Mr. St. John, in his " Wild Sports and Natural 

 History of the Highlands," gives a very interesting account of its 

 habits. Amongst other things he treats us to a spirited descrip- 

 tion of a Swan-shooting adventure, of which the following is the 

 conclusion : 



" I was not above forty yards from them, so gently raising my- 

 self on my elbow, I pulled the trigger, aiming at a forest of necks. 

 To my dismay the gun did not go off, the wet or something else 

 having spoilt the cap. The birds a herd of between fifty and 



