[Illustration: Bless me, what a queer-looking object one of them is...]

"He is too big," they all said; and the turkey cock, who had been born
into the world with spurs and fancied himself really an emperor, puffed
himself out like a vessel in full sail and flew at the duckling. He
became quite red in the head with passion, so that the poor little thing
did not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he was so ugly
as to be laughed at by the whole farmyard. So it went on from day to day; it got worse and worse. The poor duckling
was driven about by every one; even his brothers and sisters were unkind
to him and would say, "Ah, you ugly creature, I wish the cat would get
you" and his mother had been heard to say she wished he had never been
born. The ducks pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the girl who fed
the poultry pushed him with her feet. So at last he ran away,
frightening the little birds in the hedge as he flew over the palings. "They are afraid because I am so ugly," he said. So he flew still
farther, until he came out on a large moor inhabited by wild ducks. Here
he remained the whole night, feeling very sorrowful. In the morning, when the wild ducks rose in the air, they stared at
their new comrade. "What sort of a duck are you?" they all said, coming
round him. He bowed to them and was as polite as he could be, but he did not reply
to their question. "You are exceedingly ugly," said the wild ducks; "but
that will not matter if you do not want to marry one of our family." Poor thing! he had no thoughts of marriage; all he wanted was permission
to lie among the rushes and drink some of the water on the moor. 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, which accounts for
their impertinence. "Listen, friend," said one of them to the duckling;
"you are so ugly that we like you very well. Will you go with us and
become a bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor, in which
there are some wild geese, all of them unmarried. It is a chance for you
to get a wife. You may make your fortune, ugly as you are." "Bang, bang," sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead
among the rushes, and the water was tinged with blood. "Bang, bang,"
echoed far and wide in the distance, and whole flocks of wild geese rose
up from the rushes. The sound continued from every direction, for the sportsmen surrounded
the moor, and some were even seated on branches of trees, overlooking
the rushes. 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. How they terrified the poor duckling! He turned away his head to
hide it under his wing, and at the same moment a large, terrible dog
passed quite near him. His jaws were open, his tongue hung from his
mouth, and his eyes glared fearfully. He thrust his nose close to the
duckling, showing his sharp teeth, and then "splash, splash," he went
into the water, without touching him. "Oh," sighed the duckling, "how thankful I am for being so ugly; even a
dog will not bite me." And so he lay quite still, while the shot rattled through the rushes,
and gun after gun was fired over him. It was late in the day before all
became quiet, but even then the poor young thing did not dare to move. He waited quietly for several hours and then, after looking carefully
around him, hastened away from the moor as fast as he could. He ran over
field and meadow till a storm arose, and he could hardly struggle
against it. Towards evening he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to
fall, and only seemed to remain standing because it could not decide on
which side to fall first. The storm continued so violent that the
duckling could go no farther. He sat down by the cottage, and then he
noticed that the door was not quite closed, in consequence of one of the
hinges having given way. There was, therefore, a narrow opening near the
bottom large enough for him to slip through, which he did very quietly,
and got a shelter for the night. Here, in this cottage, lived a woman, a
cat, and a hen. The cat, whom his mistress called "My little son," was a
great favorite; he could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw
out sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen had
very short legs, so she was called "Chickie Short-legs." She laid good
eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had been her own child. In
the morning the strange visitor was discovered; the cat began to purr
and the hen to cluck. "What is that noise about?" said the old woman, looking around the room. But her sight was not very good; therefore when she saw the duckling she
thought it must be a fat duck that had strayed from home. "Oh, what a
prize!" she exclaimed. "I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have
some ducks' eggs. I must wait and see." So the duckling was allowed to remain on trial for three weeks; but
there were no eggs. Now the cat was the master of the house, and the hen was the mistress;
and they always said, "We and the world," for they believed themselves
to be half the world, and by far the better half, too. The duckling
thought that others might hold a different opinion on the subject, but
the hen would not listen to such doubts. "Can you lay eggs?" she asked. "No." "Then have the goodness to cease
talking." "Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks?" said
the cat. "No." "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; but when the sunshine and the fresh air came into the
room through the open door, he began to feel such a great longing for a
swim that he could not help speaking of it. "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." "But it is so delightful to swim about on the water," said the duckling,
"and so refreshing to feel it close over your head while you dive down
to the bottom." "Delightful, indeed! it must be a queer sort of pleasure," said the hen. "Why, you must be crazy! Ask the cat--he is the cleverest animal I know;
ask him how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under
it, for I will not speak of my own opinion. Ask our mistress, the old
woman; there is no one in the world more clever than she is. Do you
think she would relish swimming and letting the water close over her
head?" "I see you don't understand me," said the duckling. "We don't understand you? Who can understand you, I wonder? Do you
consider yourself more clever than the cat or the old woman?--I will say
nothing of myself. Don't imagine such nonsense, child, and thank your
good fortune that you have been so well received here.