The Zoologist — April, 1867. 663 



"Underneath her wings," that is sheltered by the wings, which are 

 arched over the back whereon the young are seated. . 



This habit of carrying the young has been remarked also in the 

 horned grebe {Podiceps cornutus). Mr. Proctor, of Durham, speaking 

 of the habits of this bird in Iceland, says : " One day, having observed 

 one of these birds dive from its nest, I placed myself with my gun at 

 my shoulder wailing its re-appearance. As soon as it emerged I fired 

 and killed it, and was surprised to see two young ones, which it seems 

 had been concealed beneath the wings of the parent bird, drop upon 

 the water. I afterwards shot several other birds of this species, all of 

 which dived with their young under their wings. The young were 

 placed with their heads towards the tail, and their bills resting on the 

 back of the parent bird." 



" In the world's volume 

 Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it, 

 In a great pool a swan's nest." 



Cymbeline, Act iii. Scene 4. 



" I will play the sivan and die in music." 



Othello, Act v. Scene 2. 



" A i-u>aw-like end, fading in music." 



Merchant of Venice, Act iii. Scene 2. 



"The swan being identified with Orpheus, and called also the bird 

 of Apollo, the god of music, powers of song have been often attributed 

 to it and as often denied. It is, however, perfectly true that this bird 

 has a soft low voice, rather plaintive, and with little variety, but not 

 disagreeable. I have heard it often in the spring, and sometimes later 

 in the season, when moving slowly about with its young." (Yarrell's 

 'British Birds,' Vol. iii. pp. 213-14). 



Col. Hawker, in his 'Instructions to Young Sportsmen' (11th 

 Edition, p. 269), says : " The only note which I ever heard the wild 

 swan, in winter, utter, is his well-known ' hoop.' But one summer 

 evening I was amused with watching and listening to a domesticated 

 one, as he swam up and down the water in the Regent's Park. He 

 turned up a sort of melody, made with two notes, C and the minor 

 third E flat, and kept working his head as if delighted with his own 

 performance." 



The melody, taken down on the spot by a first-rate professor, 

 Auguste Bertini, was as follows : 



