ou set up your back? Can you purr?"

"No."

"Well, then, you should have no opinion when reasonable people are
speaking."

So the Duckling sat alone in a corner, and felt very miserable. However,
he happened to think of the fresh air and bright sunshine, and these
thoughts gave him such a strong desire to swim again, that he could not
help telling it to the Hen.

"What ails you?" said the Hen. "You have nothing to do, and therefore
brood over these fancies. Either lay eggs or purr, then you will forget
them."

"But it is so delicious to swim!" said the Duckling. "So delicious when
the waters close over your head, and you plunge to the bottom!"

"Well, that is a queer sort of pleasure," said the Hen. "I think you
must be crazy. Not to speak of myself, ask the Cat--he is the most
sensible animal I know--whether he would like to swim, or to plunge to
the bottom of the water. Ask our mistress, the old woman--there is no
one in the world wiser than she. Do you think she would take pleasure
in swimming and in the waters closing over her head?"

"You do not understand me," said the Duckling.

"What! we do not understand you? So you think yourself wiser than the
Cat and the old woman, not to speak of myself? Do not fancy any such
thing, child; but be thankful for all the kindness that has been shown
you. Are you not lodged in a warm room, and have you not the advantage
of society from which you can learn something? But you are a simpleton,
and it is wearisome to have anything to do with you. Believe me, I wish
you well. I tell you unpleasant truths, but it is thus that real
friendship is shown. Come, for once give yourself the trouble to
learn to purr, or to lay eggs."

"I think I will go out into the wide world again," said the Duckling.

"Well, go," answered the Hen.

So the Duckling went. He swam on the surface of the water, he plunged
beneath, but all animals passed him by, on account of his ugliness. And
the autumn came, the leaves turned yellow and brown, the wind caught
them and danced them about, the air was very cold, the clouds were heavy
with hail or snow, and the Raven sat on the hedge and croaked. The poor
Duckling was certainly not very comfortable.

One evening, just as the sun was setting with unusual brilliancy, a
flock of large, beautiful birds rose from out of the brushwood. The
Duckling had never seen anything so beautiful before; their plumage was
of a dazzling white, and they had long, slend