e room. The woman clapped her hands at him, and that frightened him
still more. He flew into the butter tub and then into the meal barrel.

How he did look then! The children laughed and screamed. The woman
chased him with the fire tongs. The door stood open, and the duckling
slipped out into the snow.

It was a cruel, hard winter, and he nearly froze. At last the warm sun
began to shine, and the larks to sing. The duckling flapped his wings
and found that they were strong. Away he flew over the meadows and
fields.

Soon he found himself in a beautiful garden where the apple trees were
in full bloom, and the long branches of the willow trees hung over the
shores of the lake. Just in front of him he saw three beautiful white
swans swimming lightly over the water.

"I will fly to those beautiful birds," he said. "They will kill me
because I am so ugly; but it is all the same. It is better to be killed
by them than to be bitten by the ducks and pecked by the hens."

So he flew into the water and swam towards the beautiful birds. They saw
the duckling and came sailing down toward him. He bowed his head saying,
"Kill me, oh, kill me."

But what was this he saw in the clear water? It was his own image, and
lo! he was no longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, but a--swan, a beautiful
white swan. It matters not if one was born in a duck yard, if one has
only lain in a swan's egg. The other swans swam around him to welcome
him.

[Illustration: The little children see the new swan]

Some little children came into the garden with corn and other grains
which they threw into the water. The smallest one cried, "Oh, see! there
is a new swan, and it is more beautiful than any of the others."

The ugly duckling was shy and at first hid his head under his wing. Then
he felt so happy that he raised his neck and said, "I never dreamed of
so much happiness when I was an ugly duckling."

--HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.

THE WHITE BLACKBIRD

I

I was born a blackbird in a bushy thicket near a meadow. My father took
good care of his family and would peck about all day for insects. These
he brought home to my mother, holding them by the tail so as not to mash
them. He had a sweet voice, too, and every evening sang beautiful songs.

I should have been happy, but I was not. I ate little and was weak; and
from the first, I was different from my brothers and sisters. They had
glossy, black feathers, while mine were dirty gray. These ma