THE PORTUGUESE DUCK [0]
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE PORTUGUESE DUCK
by Hans Christian Andersen
A DUCK once arrived from Portugal, but there were some who said
she came from Spain, which is almost the same thing. At all events,
she was called the "Portuguese," and she laid eggs, was killed, and
cooked, and there was an end of her. But the ducklings which crept
forth from the eggs were also called "Portuguese," and about that
there may be some question. But of all the family one only remained in
the duckyard, which may be called a farmyard, as the chickens were
admitted, and the cock strutted about in a very hostile manner. "He
annoys me with his loud crowing," said the Portuguese duck; "but,
still, he's a handsome bird, there's no denying that, although he's
not a drake. He ought to moderate his voice, like those little birds
who are singing in the lime-trees over there in our neighbor's garden,
but that is an art only acquired in polite society. How sweetly they
sing there; it is quite a pleasure to listen to them! I call it
Portuguese singing. If I had only such a little singing-bird, I'd be
kind and good as a mother to him, for it's in my nature, in my
Portuguese blood."
While she was speaking, one of the little singing-birds came
tumbling head over heels from the roof into the yard. The cat was
after him, but he had escaped from her with a broken wing, and so came
tumbling into the yard. "That's just like the cat, she's a villain,"
said the Portuguese duck. "I remember her ways when I had children
of my own. How can such a creature be allowed to live, and wander
about upon the roofs. I don't think they allow such things in
Portugal." She pitied the little singing-bird, and so did all the
other ducks who were not Portuguese.
"Poor little creature!" they said, one after another, as they came
up. "We can't sing, certainly; but we have a sounding-board, or
something of the kind, within us; we can feel that, though we don't
talk about it."
"But I can talk," said the Portuguese duck; "and I'll do something
for the little fellow; it's my duty;" and she stepped into the
water-trough, and beat her wings upon the water so strongly that the
bird was nearly drowned by a shower-bath; but the duck meant it
kindly. "That is a good deed," she said; "I hope the others will
take example by it."
"Tweet, tweet!" said the little bird, for one of his wings being
broken, he found it difficult to shake himself; but he quite
understood that the bath was meant kindly, and he said, "You are
very kind-hearted, madam;" but he did not wish for a second bath.
"I have never thought about my heart," replied the Portuguese
duck, "but I know that I love all my fellow-creatures, except the cat,
and nobody can expect me to love her, for she ate up two of my
ducklings. But pray make yourself at home; it is easy to make one's
self comfortable. I am myself from a foreign country, as you may see
by my feathery dress. My drake is a native of these parts; he's not of
my race; but I am not proud on that account. If any one here can
understand you, I may say positively I am that person."
"She's quite full of 'Portulak,'" said a little common duck, who
was witty. All the common ducks considered the word "Portulak" a
good joke, for it sounded like Portugal. They nudged each other, and
said, "Quack! that was witty!"
Then the other ducks began to notice the little bird. "The
Portuguese had certainly a great flow of language," they said to the
little bird. "For our part we don't care to fill our beaks with such
long words, but we sympathize with you quite as much. If we don't do
anything else, we can walk about with you everywhere, and we think
that is the best thing we can do."
"You have a lovely voice," said one of the eldest ducks; "it
must be great satisfaction to you to be able to give so much
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE PORTUGUESE DUCK
by Hans Christian Andersen
A DUCK once arrived from Portugal, but there were some who said
she came from Spain, which is almost the same thing. At all events,
she was called the "Portuguese," and she laid eggs, was killed, and
cooked, and there was an end of her. But the ducklings which crept
forth from the eggs were also called "Portuguese," and about that
there may be some question. But of all the family one only remained in
the duckyard, which may be called a farmyard, as the chickens were
admitted, and the cock strutted about in a very hostile manner. "He
annoys me with his loud crowing," said the Portuguese duck; "but,
still, he's a handsome bird, there's no denying that, although he's
not a drake. He ought to moderate his voice, like those little birds
who are singing in the lime-trees over there in our neighbor's garden,
but that is an art only acquired in polite society. How sweetly they
sing there; it is quite a pleasure to listen to them! I call it
Portuguese singing. If I had only such a little singing-bird, I'd be
kind and good as a mother to him, for it's in my nature, in my
Portuguese blood."
While she was speaking, one of the little singing-birds came
tumbling head over heels from the roof into the yard. The cat was
after him, but he had escaped from her with a broken wing, and so came
tumbling into the yard. "That's just like the cat, she's a villain,"
said the Portuguese duck. "I remember her ways when I had children
of my own. How can such a creature be allowed to live, and wander
about upon the roofs. I don't think they allow such things in
Portugal." She pitied the little singing-bird, and so did all the
other ducks who were not Portuguese.
"Poor little creature!" they said, one after another, as they came
up. "We can't sing, certainly; but we have a sounding-board, or
something of the kind, within us; we can feel that, though we don't
talk about it."
"But I can talk," said the Portuguese duck; "and I'll do something
for the little fellow; it's my duty;" and she stepped into the
water-trough, and beat her wings upon the water so strongly that the
bird was nearly drowned by a shower-bath; but the duck meant it
kindly. "That is a good deed," she said; "I hope the others will
take example by it."
"Tweet, tweet!" said the little bird, for one of his wings being
broken, he found it difficult to shake himself; but he quite
understood that the bath was meant kindly, and he said, "You are
very kind-hearted, madam;" but he did not wish for a second bath.
"I have never thought about my heart," replied the Portuguese
duck, "but I know that I love all my fellow-creatures, except the cat,
and nobody can expect me to love her, for she ate up two of my
ducklings. But pray make yourself at home; it is easy to make one's
self comfortable. I am myself from a foreign country, as you may see
by my feathery dress. My drake is a native of these parts; he's not of
my race; but I am not proud on that account. If any one here can
understand you, I may say positively I am that person."
"She's quite full of 'Portulak,'" said a little common duck, who
was witty. All the common ducks considered the word "Portulak" a
good joke, for it sounded like Portugal. They nudged each other, and
said, "Quack! that was witty!"
Then the other ducks began to notice the little bird. "The
Portuguese had certainly a great flow of language," they said to the
little bird. "For our part we don't care to fill our beaks with such
long words, but we sympathize with you quite as much. If we don't do
anything else, we can walk about with you everywhere, and we think
that is the best thing we can do."
"You have a lovely voice," said one of the eldest ducks; "it
must be great satisfaction to you to be able to give so much