was not aware
of this advantage when he started in the race? Do you suppose that
these birds do not _think_? I for one am satisfied they do, and look
upon every one who prates about the _instinct_ of these creatures as a
philosopher of a very old school indeed. Not only does the great swan
think, but so does your parrot, and your piping bullfinch, and the
little canary that hops on your thumb. All think, and _reason_, and
_judge_. Should it ever be your fortune to witness the performance of
those marvellous birds, exhibited by the graceful Mademoiselle
Vandermeersch in the fashionable _salons_ of Paris and London, you will
agree with me in the belief that the smallest of them has a mind like
yourself.

Most certainly the swan, which our voyageurs were pursuing, thought, and
reasoned, and judged, and calculated his distance, and resolved to keep
on "the even tenor of his way," without putting himself to extra trouble
by beating the air with his wings, and lifting his heavy body--thirty
pounds at least--up into the heavens. His judgment proved sound; for,
in less than ten minutes from the commencement of the chase, he had
gained a clear hundred yards upon his pursuers, and continued to widen
the distance. At intervals he raised his beak higher than usual, and
uttered his loud booming note, which fell upon the ears of the voyageurs
as though it had been sent back in mockery and defiance.

They would have given up the pursuit, had they not noticed that a few
hundred yards farther down the river made a sharp turn to the right.
The swan, on reaching this, would no longer have the wind in his favour.
This inspired them with fresh hopes. They thought they would be able
to overtake him after passing the bend, and then, either get a shot at
him, or force him into the air. The latter was the more likely; and,
although it would be no great gratification to see him fly off, yet they
had become so interested in this singular chase that they desired to
terminate it by putting the trumpeter to some trouble. They bent,
therefore, with fresh energy to their oars, and pulled onward in the
pursuit. First the swan, and after him the canoe, swung round the bend,
and entered the new "reach" of the river. The voyageurs at once
perceived that the bird now swam more slowly. He no longer "carried
sail," as the wind was no longer in his favour. His wings lay closely
folded to his body, and he moved only by the aid of his webbed feet