A BEAUTIFUL young Swan lived by a beautiful lake. All day long he used
to sail gracefully over the water, curving his neck to look at his own
image, or pluming his white wings; and when he was tired, he would go to
his nest in the rushes, and sleep, or play with his brothers and
sisters.
In a tree above that lake was a Crow. You know that Crows are dirty
birds, and they feed on offal and refuse, and people dislike them; but
the Swan was white and clean. Still, strange as it may seem, this Swan
struck up a fast friendship with the Crow. His mother and father begged
him to keep out of bad company, but he would not listen to them. He had
done better to keep to his own kind, but wilful will have his way, and
the Swan was sorry for it too late.
One day the Crow said to his friend the Swan, "Come, old boy, let us go
and have some fun."
"I'm your Swan," says the other, and away they flew.
They came to a tree, and under the tree was a very pious man, saying his
prayers.
"Here's a joke," said the Crow. "Now we shall see sport."
He picked up a lump of mud from the ground, and flew up into the tree,
and then he dropped the mud, splash, on the pious man's head.
This interrupted his prayers, and he could not help feeling angry,
although he was so pious. So up got he, and looked about to see who had
done the mischief.
By this time the mischievous Crow had flown off, and he was
caw-caw-cawing on another tree, out of reach. But the Swan sat still: he
was not learned in mischief, and he did not know what to do. Then the
pious man looked up into the tree, and saw the Swan sitting there, so of
course he thought it was the Swan who had dropped a piece of mud on his
head. He had a big catapult with him, so he put a stone in his catapult,
and slick! he shot the Swan.
Down fell the Swan with a great thud. He felt that his end was near, and
how sorry he was now that he had had anything to do with the bad Crow.
However, it was too late now to be sorry, so he began to sing. They say
that Swans never sing in all their life, but when they are about to die
they sing beautifully; and this is what the Swan sang to the pious
man:--
"I am no Crow, as you must know,
But a Swan that lived by a lovely lake;
With bad companions I would go,
And now I die for a bad friend's sake."
Then the Swan died, and the pious man finished
his prayers.