and wholesome nourishment have been found so considerable as to induce man to take these birds from a state of nature and render them domestic. How long they have been thus dependents upon his pleasures is not known; for from the earliest accounts they were considered as familiars about him. The time must have been very remote; for there have been many changes wrought in their colours, their figures, and even in their internal parts, by human cultivation. The different kinds of these birds in a wild state are simple in their colourings: when one has seen a wild goose or a wild duck a description of its plumage will, to a feather, exactly correspond with that of any other. But in the tame kinds no two of any species are exactly alike. Different in their size, their colours, and frequently in their general form, they seem the mere creatures of Art; and, having been so long dependent upon man for support, they seem to assume forms entirely suited to his pleasures or necessities.

CHAP. X.

OF THE SWAN, TAME AND WILD.

No bird makes a more indifferent figure upon land, or a more beautiful one in the water, than the swan. When it ascends from its favourite element its motions are awkward, and its neck is stretched forward with an air of stupidity; but when it is seen smoothly sailing along the water, commanding a thousand graceful attitudes, moving at pleasure without the smallest effort-when it "proudly rows in state," as Milton has it, "with arched neck between its white wings mantling," there is not a more beautiful figure in all Nature. In the exhibitions of its form there are no broken or harsh lines-no constrained or catching motions, but the roundest contours and the easiest transitions. The eye wanders over every part with insatiable pleasure, and every part takes a new grace with new motion.

This fine bird has long been rendered domestic; and it is now a doubt whether there be any of the tame kind in a state of nature. The wild swan, though so strongly resembling this in colour and form, is yet a different bird; for it is very differently formed within. The wild swan is less than the tame one by almost a fourth; for as the one weighs twenty pounds, the other weighs sixteen pounds and three quarters. The colour of the tame swan is all over white; that of the wild bird is, along the back and the tips of the wings, of an ash-colour But these are slight differences to what are found upon dissection. In the tame swan the windpipe sinks down into the lungs in the ordinary manner; but in the wild one, after a strange and wonderful contortion, like what we have seen in the crane, it enters through a hole formed in the breast-bone, and, being reflected therein, returns by the same aperture; being contracted into a narrow compass by a broad and bony cartilage, it is divided into two branches, which, before they enter the lungs, are dilated, and as it were swollen out into two cavities.

Such is the extraordinary difference between these two animals, which externally seem to be of one species. Whether it is in the power of long-continued captivity and domestication to produce this strange variety between birds otherwise the same I will not take upon me to determine; but certain it is that our tame swan is nowhere to be found, at least in Europe, in a state

of nature.

As it is not easy to account for this difference of conformation, so it is still more difficult to reconcile the accounts of the ancients with the experience of the moderns concerning the vocal powers of this bird. The tame swan is one of the most silent of all birds; and

the wild one has a note extremely loud and disagreeable. It is probable the convolutions of the windpipe may contribute to increase the clangour of it; for such is the harshness of its voice, that the bird from hence has been called the "hooper." In neither is there the smallest degree of melody; uor have they, for above this century, been said to give specimens of the smallest musical abilities; yet, notwithstanding this, it was the general opinion of antiquity that the swan was a most melodious bird: and that even to its death its voice went on improving. It would show no learning to produce what they have said upon the music of the swan; it has already been collected hy Aldrovandus, and still more professedly by Gedoyn, in the Transactions of the Acadamy of Belles Lettres. From these accounts it appears that, while Plato, Aristotle, and Diodorus Siculus, believed the vocality of the swan, Pliny and Virgil seemed to doubt that received opinion. In this equipoise of authority Aldrovandus seems to have determined in favour of the Greek philosophers; and the form of the windpipe in the wild swan, so much resembling a musical instrument, inclined his belief still more strongly. In aid of this, also, came the testimony of Pendasius, who affirmed that he had often heard swans sweetly singing in the lake of Mantua, as he was rowed up and down in a boat; as also of Olaus Wormius, who professed that many of his friends and scholars had heard them singing. There was," says he, "in my family a very honest young man, John Rostorph, a student in divinity, and a Norwegian by nation. This man did, upon his credit and the interposition of an oath, solemnly affirm, that once, in the territory of Dronten, when standing on the sea-shore early in the morning he heard an unusual and sweet murmur, composed of the most pleasant whistlings and sounds; he knew not at first whence they came, or how they were made, for he saw no man near to produce them; but looking round about him, and climbing to the top of a certain promontory, he there espied an infinite number of swans gathered together in a bay, and making the most delightful harmony-a sweeter in all his life-time he had never heard." These were accounts sufficient at least to keep opinion in suspense, though in contradiction to our own experience; but Aldrovandus, to put, as he supposed, the question past all doubt, gives us the testimony of a countryman of our own, from whom he had the relation. This honest man's name was Mr. George Braun, who assured him that nothing was more common in England than to hear swans sing; that they were bred in great numbers in the sea near London; and that every fleet of ships that returned from their voyages from distant countries were met by swans, that came joyfully out to welcome their return, and salute them with loud and cheerful singing! It was in this manner that Aldrovandus, that great and good man, was frequently imposed upon by the designing and the needy: his unbounded curiosity drew around him people of every kind, and his generosity was as ready to reward falsehood as truth. Poor Aldrovandus! after having spent a vast fortune for the purposes of enlightening mankind-after having collected more truth and more falsehood than any man ever did before him, he little thought of being reduced at last to want bread, to feel the ingratitude of his country, and to die a beggar in a public hospital !

Thus it appears that our modern authorities in favour of the singing of swans are rather suspicious, since they are reduced to Mr. John Braun and John Rostorph, the native of a country remarkable for ignorance and credulity. It is probable the ancients had some mythological meaning in ascribing melody to the swan: and as for the moderns, they scarce deserve our regard. The swan, therefore, must be content to remain with that share of fame which it possesses on the score of its beauty-since the melody of its voice without better

testimony will scarcely be admitted by even the credulous.

This beautiful bird is as delicate in its appetites as it is elegant in its form. Its chief food is corn, bread, herbs growing in the water, and roots and seeds which are found near the margin. It prepares a nest in some retired parts of the bank, and chiefly where there is an islet in the stream. This is composed of water-plants, long grass, and sticks; and the male and female assist in forming it with great assiduity. The swan lays seven or eight eggs, white, much larger than those of a goose, with a hard, and sometimes a tuberous shell. It sits near two months before its young are excluded, which are ash-coloured when they first leave the shell, and for some months after. It is not a little dangerous to approach the old ones when their little family are feeding round them. There fear as well as their pride seem to take the alarm; and they have sometimes been known to give a blow with their pinion that has broken a man's leg or arm.

It is not till they are a twelvemonth old that the young swans change colour with their plumage. All the stages of this bird's approach to maturity are slow, and seem to mark its longevity. It is two months hatching a year in growing to its proper size-and if, according to Pliny's observation, that those animals that are longest in the womb are the longest lived, the swan is the longest in the shell of any bird we know, and is said to be remarkable for its longevity. Some say that it lives three hundred years; and Willoughby, who is in general diffident enough, seems to believe the report. A goose, as he justly observes, has been known to live a hundred; and the swan, from its superior size and from its harder, firmer flesh, may naturally be supposed to live still longer.

Swans were formerly held in such great esteem in England, that, by an act of Edward the Fourth, none except the son of a king was permitted to keep a swan unless possessed of five marks a year. By a subsequent act, the punishment for taking their eggs was imprison ment for a year and a day, and a fine at the king's will. At present they are but little valued for the delicacy of their flesh; but many are still preserved for their beauty. We see multitudes on the Thames and Trent; but no where do we see greater numbers than on the salt water inlet of the sea near Abbotsberry, in Dorsetshire.

The "black-necked swans" are natives of the Falkland Isles, as well as of South America. They are an exceed ingly scarce species in Great Britain, there not being more than half a dozen pair. The engraving represents a pair in their native element, lately presented by the Earl of Derby to the Zoological Gardens, Regent's-park.

CHAP. XI.

OF THE GOOSE AND ITS VALUE.

The goose in its domestic state exhibits a variety of colours. The wild goose always retains the same marks: the whole upper part is ash-coloured; the breast and belly are of a dirty white; the bill is narrow at the base, and at the tip it is black; the legs are of a saffroncolour, and the claws black. These marks are seldom found in the tame goose, whose bill is entirely red, and whose legs are entirely brown. The wild goose is rather less than the tame one; but both invariably retain a white ring round their tail, which shows that they are both descended from the same original.

The wild goose is supposed to breed in the northern parts of Europe, and in the beginning of winter to descend into more temperate regions. They are often seen flying at very great heights in flocks from fifty to a hundred, and seldom resting by day. Their cry is fre

quently heard when they are at an imperceptible distance above us; and this seems bandied from one to the other, as among hounds in the pursuit. Whether this be the note of mutual encouragement or the necessary consequence of respiration is doubtful; but they seldom exert it when they alight in these journeys.

Upon their coming to the ground by day they range themselves in a line, like cranes, and seem rather to have descended for rest than for other refreshment. When they have sat in this manner for an hour or two, I have heard one of them, with a loud long note, sound a kind of charge, to which the rest punctually attended, and they pursued their journey with renewed alacrity. Their flight is very regularly arranged: they either go in a line a-breast, or in two lines, joining in an angle in the middle. I doubt whether the form of their flight be thus arranged to cut the air with greater ease, as is commonly believed; I am more apt to think it is to present a smaller mark to fowlers from below. A bullet might easily reach them, if huddled together in a flock, and the same discharge might destroy several at once; but by their manner of flying, no shot from below can affect above one of them; and from the height at which they fly this is not easy to be accomplished.

The barnacle differs in some respects from both these being less than either, with a black bill, much shorter than either of the preceding. It is scarce necessary to combat the idle error of this bird's being bred from a shell sticking to ships' bottoms; it is well known to be hatched from an egg in the ordinary manner, and to differ in very few particulars from all the rest of its kind.

The brent goose is still less than the former, and not bigger than a Muscovy duck, except that the body is longer. The head, neck, and upper part of the breast are black; about the middle of the neck, on each side, are two small spots or lines of white, which together appear like a ring.

These and many other varieties are found in this kind, which agree in one common character of feeding upon vegetables, and being remarkable for their fecundity. Of these, however, the tame goose is the most fruitful. Having less to fear from its enemies, leading a securer and a more plentiful life, its prolific powers increase in proportion to its ease; and though the wild goose seldom lays above eight eggs, the tame goose is often seen to lay above twenty. The female hatches her eggs with great assiduity; while the gander visits her twice or thrice a day, and sometimes drives her off to take her place, where he sits with great state and composure.

But beyond that of all animals is his pride when the young are excluded; he seems then to consider himself as a champion, not only obliged to defend his young, but also to keep off the suspicion of danger; he pursues dogs and men that never attempt to molest him; and, though the most harmless thing alive, is then the most petulant and provoking. When in this manner he has pursued the calf or the mastiff, to whose contempt alone he is indebted for safety, he returns to his female and her brood in triumph, clapping his wings, screaming, and showing all the marks of conscious superiority. It is probable, however, these arts succeed in raising his importance among the tribe where they are displayed; and it is probable there is not a more respectable animal on earth to a goose than a gander!

A young goose is generally reckoned very good eating; yet the feathers of this bird still farther increase its value. I feel my obligations to this animal every word I write; for, however deficient a man's head may be, his pen is nimble enough upon every occasion: it is happy indeed for us that it requires no great effort to put it in motion But the feathers of this bird are still as valuable in another capacity, as they make the softest and the warmest beds to sleep on.

Of goose feathers most of our beds in Europe are

composed; in the countries bordering on the Levant, and in all Asia, the use of them is utterly unknown. They there use mattresses stuffed with wool or camels hair or cotton; and the warmth of the climate may perhaps make them dispense with cushions of a softer kind. But how it happens that the ancients had not the use of feather beds is to me surprising. Pliny tells us, indeed, that they made bolsters of feathers to lay their heads on; and this serves as a proof that they turned feathers to no other uses.

As feathers are a very valuable commodity, great numbers of geese are kept tame in the fens in Lincolnshire, which are plucked once or twice a-year. These make a considerable article of commerce. The feathers of Somersetshire are most in esteem; those of Ireland are also reckoned good. Hudson's Bay also furnishes very fine feathers, supposed to be of the goose kind. The down of the swan is brought from Dantzic. The same place also sends us great quantities of the feathers of the cock and hen; but Greenland, Iceland, and Norway furnish the best feathers of all: and in this number we may reckon the eider-down, of which we shall take notice in its place. The best method of curing feathers is to lay them in a room in an open exposure to the sun, and, when dried, to put them into bags, and beat them well with poles to get the dust off. But after all, nothing will prevent for a time the heavy smell which arises from the putrefaction of the oil contained in every feather; no exposure will draw this off, how long soever it be continued; they must be lain upon, which is the only remedy; and for this reason old feathers are much more valuable than new.

CHAP. XII.

OF THE DUCK AND ITS VARIETIES.

The tame duck is the most easily reared of all our domestic animals. The very instinct of the young ones direct them to their favourite element; and though they are conducted by a hen, yet they despise the admonitions

of their leader.

This serves as an incontestible proof that all birds have their manners rather from Nature than education. A falcon pursues the partridge, not because it is taught by the old one, but because its appetites make their importunate call for animal food; the cuckoo follows a very different trade from that wheh its nurse endeavoured to teach it, and, if we may credit Pliny, in time destroys its instructor; animals of the duck kind also follow their appetites, not their tutor, and come to all the various perfections without any guide. All the arts possessed by man are the result of accumulated experience-all the arts of inferior animals are self-taught, and scarce one is acquired by imitation.

It is usual with the good women to lay duck-eggs under a hen, because she hatches them better than the original parent would have done. The duck seems to be a heedless, inattentive mother; she frequently leaves her eggs till they spoil, and even seems to forget that she is entrusted with the charge: she is equally regardless of them when excluded; she leads them to the pond, and thinks she has sufficiently provided for her offspring when she has shown them the water. Whatever advantages may be procured by coming near the house or attending the yard, she declines them all; and often lets the vermin that haunt the waters destroy them, rather than bring them to take shelter nearer home. The hen is a nurse of a very opposite character; she broods with the utmost assiduity, and generally brings forth a young one from every egg committed to her charge; she does not lead her younglings to the water indeed, but she watchfully guards them when there by standing at the

brink. Should the rat or the weasel attempt to seize them, the hen can give them protection; she leads them to the house when tired with paddling, and rears up the suppositious brood without ever supposing that they belong to another.

The wild duck differs in many respects from the tame one; and in them there is still greater variety than among the domestic kinds. Of the tame duck there are not less than ten different sorts; and of the wild, Brisson reckons above twenty. The most obvious distinction between wild and tame ducks is in the colour of their feet-those of the tame duck being yellow, those of the wild duck black. The difference between wild ducks among each other arises as well from their size as the nature of the place they feed in. Sea-ducks, which feed in the salt-water, and dive much, have a broad bill, bending upwards, a large hind-toe, and a long blunt tail. Pond-ducks, which feed in plashes, have a straight and narrow bill, a small hind-toe, and a sharp-pointed train. The former are called by our decoy-men foreign ducks"-the latter are supposed to be natives of England. It would be tedious to enter into the minute varieties of such a number of birds, all agreeing in the same general figure, the same habits and mode of living, and differing in little more than their size and the colours of their plumage. In this tribe we may rank, as natives of our own European dominions, the eider-duck, which is double the size of a common duck, with a black bill; the velvet duck, not so large, and with a yellow bill; the scoter, with a knob at the base of a yellow bil]; the tufted duck, adorned with a thick crest; the scaup duck, less than the common duck, with the bill of a greyishblue colour; the golden eye, with a large white spot at the corners of the mouth, resembling an eye; the sheldrake, with the bill of a bright red, and swelling into a knob; the mallard, which is the stock from whence our tame breed has probably been produced; the pintail, with the two middle feathers of the tail three inches longer than the rest; the pochard, with the head and neck of a bright bay; the widgeon, with a lead-coloured bill, and the plumage of the back marked with narrow black and white undulated lines, but best known by its whistling sound; lastly, the teal, which is the smallest of this kind, with the bill black, the head and upper part of the neck of a bright bay. These are the most common birds of the duck kind among ourselves; but who can describe the amazing variety of this tribe if he extends his view to the different quarters of the world? The most noted of the foreign tribe are, the Muscovy duckor, more properly speaking, the musk duck, so called from a supposed musky smell-with naked skin round the eyes, and which is a native of Africa; the Brazilian duck, of the size of a goose, all over black except the tips of the wings. The American wood-duck, with a variety of beautiful colours, and a plume of feathers that falls from the back of the head like a friar's cowl. These, and twenty others, might be added, were increasing the number of names the way to enlarge the sphere of our comprehension.

All these live in the manner of our domestic ducks, keeping together in flocks in the winter, and flying in pairs in summer, bringing up their young by the water side, and leading them to their food as soon as out of the shell. Their nests are usually built among heath or rushes, not far from the water; and they lay twelve or fourteen eggs before they sit. Yet this is not always their method; the dangers they continually encounter from their ground situation sometimes obliges them to change their previous manner of building: and their awkward nests are often seen exalted on the tops of trees. This must be a very great labour to perform, as the duck's bill is but ill-formed for building a nest, and giving the materials of which it is composed a sufficient stability to stand the weather. The nest, whether high or low, is generally composed of singular materials.