THE DOMESTIC SWAN. 129 



cline. 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 fishpond 

 there, out of the reach of storms. From this 

 time he never fended for food, but he con- 

 tinued 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 



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