atures flapped my arm so hard, that I thought more
than once it was broken. I would advise you, sir, never to go near
swans when they are angry."

"You will find ample employment for your peace-making talents among the
Deerbrook people, Mr Walcot," said Philip. "They may break your
windows, and perhaps your heart; but they will leave you your eyes and
your right arm. For my part, I do not know but I had rather do battle
with the swans."

"Better not, sir," said the boatman. "I would advise you never to go
near swans when they are angry."

"Look!" said Sophia, anxiously. "Is not this one angry? Yes, it is: I
am sure it is! Did you ever see anything like its feathers? and it is
coming this way, it is just upon us! Oh, Mr Walcot!"

Sophia threw herself over to the other side of the boat, and Mr Walcot
started up, looking very pale.

"Sit down!" cried Mr Grey, in his loudest voice. Mr Walcot sat down
as if shot; and Sophia crept back to her place, with an anxious glance
at the retreating bird. Of course, the two young people were
plentifully lectured about shifting their places in a boat without
leave, and were asked the question, more easily put than answered, how
they should have felt if they had been the means of precipitating the
whole party into the water. Then there was a calling out from the other
boat to know what was the matter, and an explanation; so that Sophia and
Mr Walcot had to take refuge in mutual sympathy from universal censure.

"The birds always quarrel with the boats--boats of this make," explained
the boatman; "because their enemies go out in skiffs to take them. They
let a lighter pass without taking any notice, while they always scour
the water near a skiff; but I never heard of their flying at a pleasure
party in any sort of boat."

"Where are the black swans that a sea-captain brought to Lady Hunter?"
asked Philip. "I see nothing of them."

"The male died; choked, sir,--with a crust of bread a stranger gave him.
But for that, he would have been now in sight, I don't doubt; for he
prospered very well till that day."

"Of a crust of bread! What a death!" exclaimed Philip. "And the
other?"

"She died, sir, by the visitation of God," replied the boatman,
solemnly.

It was obviously so far from the man's intention that any one should
laugh, that nobody did laugh. Maria observed to her next neighbour
that, to a keeper of swans, his birds were more companionable, and quite
a