The Selected Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen: "The Ugly Duckling" by Hans Christian Andersen

In this snug retreat sat a duck on her nest, watching for her young brood to hatch; she was beginning to get tired of her task, for the little ones were a long time coming out of their shells, and she seldom had any visitors.

I was persuaded to hatch some once, and after all my care and trouble with the young ones, they were afraid of the water. I quacked and clucked, but all to no purpose. I could not get them to venture in.

"Oh," said the mother, "that is not a turkey; how well he uses his legs, and how upright he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is not so very ugly after all if you look at him properly. Quack, quack! come with me now, I will take you into grand society, and introduce you to the farmyard, but you must keep close to me or you may be trodden upon; and, above all, beware of the cat."

You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck yonder; she is the highest born of them all, and has Spanish blood; therefore, she is well off.

"Yes, but he is so big and ugly," said the spiteful duck, "and therefore he must be turned out."

"That is impossible, your grace," replied the mother; "he is not pretty; but he has a very good disposition, and swims as well or even better than the others. I think he will grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller; he has remained too long in the egg, and therefore his figure is not properly formed;" and then she stroked his neck and smoothed the feathers...

It is a drake, and therefore not of so much consequence. I think he will grow up strong, and able to take care of himself.

And so they made themselves comfortable; but the poor duckling, who had crept out of his shell last of all, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of, not only by the ducks, but by all the poultry.

So he closed his eyes, and flew still farther, until he came out on a large moor, inhabited by wild ducks.

"You are exceedingly ugly," said the wild ducks, "but that will not matter if you do not want to marry one of our family."

After he had been on the moor two days, there came two wild geese, or rather goslings, for they had not been out of the egg long, and were very saucy.

"Pop, pop," sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and the water was tinged with blood.

The blue smoke from the guns rose like clouds over the dark trees, and as it floated away across the water, a number of sporting dogs bounded in among the rushes, which bent beneath them wherever they went.

His jaws were open, his tongue hung from his mouth, and his eyes glared fearfully.

He waited quietly for several hours, and then, after looking carefully around him, hastened away from the moor as fast as he could.

"Then you have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are speaking."

So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling very low spirited, till the sunshine and the fresh air came into the room through the open door, and then he began to feel such a great longing for a swim on the water, that he could not help telling the hen.

"What an absurd idea," said the hen. "You have nothing else to do; therefore you have foolish fancies. If you could purr or lay eggs, they would pass away."

The clouds, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, hung low in the sky, and the raven stood on the ferns crying, "Croak, croak."

They were swans, and they curved their graceful necks, while their soft plumage shown with dazzling whiteness.

He was not envious of these beautiful creatures, but wished to be as lovely as they.

The winter grew colder and colder; he was obliged to swim about on the water to keep it from freezing, but every night the space on which he swam became smaller and smaller.

He flew first into the butter- cask, then into the meal-tub, and out again.

It would be very sad, were I to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter; but when it had passed, he found himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes.

It would be very sad, were I to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter; but when it had passed, he found himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes.

From a thicket close by came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers, and swimming lightly over the smooth water.

The moment they espied the stranger, they rushed to meet him with outstretched wings.

But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image; no longer a dark, gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan.

He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds.

He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds.