Oh, it was so beautiful, the spring was so pleasant! From the thicket came three glorious white Swans; they rustled their wings, and swam lightly on the water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures, and felt oppressed by a peculiar sadness.

66

"I will fly away to them, to the royal birds, and they will kill me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to approach them. But it is no matter! Better be killed by them than be pursued by the ducks, beaten by the fowls, and pushed about by the girl who cares for the poultry yard, and to suffer so in the winter! And it flew out into the water, and swam toward the beautiful Swans. They looked at it, and then came sailing down upon it with outspread wings. "Kill me!" said the poor Duckling, and it bent its head down upon the water, expecting nothing but death. But what did it see in the clear water? It beheld its own image and, lo! it was no longer a clumsy, dark-gray bird, ugly and hateful to look at, but- a swan.

It matters nothing if one was born in a duck yard, if one has only lain in a swan's egg.

It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had suffered, now it realized its happiness in all the splendor that surrounded it. And the great Swans swam around it, and stroked it with their beaks.

Little children came into the garden, and threw

bread into the water, and the youngest cried out, "There is a new one!" and the other children shouted joyously, "Yes; a new one has arrived!" And they clapped their hands and danced about, and ran to their father and mother; and bread and cake were thrown into the water, and they all said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all, so young and handsome!" and the old Swans bowed their heads before him.

Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing, for he did not know what to do; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He thought how he had been abused and despised, and now he heard them saying that he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder tree bent its branches straight down into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled; he lifted his slender neck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his heart:

"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still the Ugly Duckling!"

THE FLAX

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

HE Flax was in blossom; it had pretty little

THE

blue flowers as delicate as a moth's wing. The sun shone on it, and the rain clouds moistened it. This was just as good for it as it is for little children to be washed, and afterward be kissed by their mothers.

"People say that I look uncommonly well," said the Flax; "that I am fine, and long, and will make an excellent piece of linen. How happy I am! I am certainly the happiest of beings. How well off I am! I surely may come to something.

How

good the rain tastes, and how it refreshes me! How the sunshine gladdens one! I'm the happiest of beings."

"Yes, yes!" said the Hedge Stake. "You don't know the world, but we do, for we have knots in us;" and then it creaked out mournfully:

"Snip-snap-snurre,
Bassellurre!

The song is done."

"No, it is not done," said the Flax. "To-morrow the sun will shine, or the rain will refresh me. I feel that I am growing. I feel that I am in blossom. I am the happiest of beings."

But one day people came and pulled the Flax up by the root. That hurt; it was laid in water as if they meant to drown it, and then it was put on the fire as if they were going to roast it. It was fearful! "One can't always have good times," said the

Flax.

"One must have experience, and so get to know something."

But bad times had certainly come. The Flax was moistened, and roasted, and broken, and hackled. The Flax did not even know why this was being done. It was put on the spinning wheel, and it went whirr! whirr! whirr! till it could not possibly collect its thoughts.

"I have been uncommonly happy," said the Flax, in its pain. "One must be content with the good

one has had. Contented! contented!" and it continued to say that when it was put into the loom and until it became a beautiful piece of linen.

"This is quite remarkable! I never should have believed it! How favorable fortune is to me! The Hedge Stake said:

'The song is done.'

The song is not done by any means. It is just beginning in earnest. It is quite remarkable. If I have suffered, I have been made into something. No one is so happy as I. How strong and fine I am! How white and how long! This is something

different from being a mere plant, even if one does bear flowers. Now I am attended to. The maid turns me over every morning, and I get a shower bath every evening. Even the clergyman's wife speaks about me, and says I am the best piece in the whole parish. I cannot be happier."

Now the linen was taken into the house and cut, and torn, and pricked with needles. This was not pleasant; but twelve pieces of linen were made of it, a whole dozen.

"Just look! Now something has really been made of me. That was my destiny. That is a real blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, and that is right; that is a true pleasure. We have been made into twelve things, but we are all one just the same.'

Years rolled on, and now they would hold together no longer.

"It must be over one day," said each piece. “I would have been glad to hold together a little longer, but one must not expect impossibilities."

Now they were torn into pieces and thought it must surely be all over. They were hacked into little pieces, and softened, and boiled; they did not know what was being done to them; soon they became beautiful white Paper.

"Now, that is a surprise, a glorious surprise!" said