Once there was a man who was driving in his

car at dusk on a Spring evening through part of the

forest of Savernake. His name was Mr. Peters.

The primroses were just beginning but the trees

were still bare, and it was cold; the birds had

stopped singing an hour ago. As Mr. Peters

entered a straight, empty stretch of road he seemed

to hear a faint crying, and a struggling and

thrashing, as if somebody was in trouble far away

in the trees. He left his car and climbed the mossy

bank beside the road. Beyond the bank was an

open slope of beech trees leading down to thorn

bushes through which he saw the gleam of water.

He stood a moment waiting to try and discover

where the noise was coming from, and presently

heard a rustling and some strange cries in a voice

which was almost human-and yet there was

something too hoarse about it at one time and too

clear and sweet at another. Mr. Peters ran down

the hill and as he neared the bushes he saw

something white among them which was trying to

extricate itself; coming closer he found that it was

a swan that had become entangled in the thorns

growing on the bank of the canal.


Why does Mr. Peters stop to help ? what does this say about his characteristic?