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The Wind in the Willows
The Wind in the Willows
The Wind in the Willows
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The Wind in the Willows

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

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About this ebook

Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.

Far from fading with time, Kenneth Grahame's classic tale of fantasy has attracted a growing audience in each generation.

Rat, Mole, Badger and the preposterous Mr Toad, have brought delight to many through the years with their odd adventures on and by the river, and at the imposing residence of Toad Hall.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 1, 2012
ISBN9781848701878
Author

Kenneth Grahame

Kenneth Grahame (1859-1932) was a Scottish author of children’s literature. Following the death of his mother at a young age, Grahame was sent to live with his grandmother in Berkshire, England, in a home near the River Thames. Unable to study at Oxford due to financial reasons, Grahame embarked on a career with the Bank of England, eventually retiring to devote himself to writing. An early exposure to nature and wildlife formed a lasting impression on Grahame, who would return to the Thames Valley of his youth throughout his literary career—most notably in his novel The Wind in the Willows (1908), which is considered his finest achievement and a masterpiece of children’s fiction.

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Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Not necessarily an avid children's book reader beyond my trusty Hardy Boys....but i recently saw a local community theater production of this, and in between the time i purchased the ticket and actually saw the play, this book showed up in a box of odds and ends someone gave me.....it seemed like fate was telling me to read it....So i did! And what a beautifully illustrated work this is. The fantastical world of these animals came to life for my stifled and stiff brain so much more so than had it not been just littered from end to end with gorgeous vivid drawings in both Black & White and Color
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The Wind in the Willows is as daffy and charming as it must have seemed when it was first published in 1908. Kenneth Grahame’s classic children’s novel follows the anthropomorphic adventures of several woodland creatures, primarily Mole, Rat, Badger, and Toad. They enjoy many pastimes, including “messing about in boats,” Christmas caroling, and driving motor cars. This last becomes Mr. Toad’s passion, landing him in all sorts of trouble and, eventually, a dungeon. The animals have many adventures along the river and in the Wild Wood, but they all love home best, where they like to cozy up in front of a fireplace and enjoy simple meals with friends. What makes the book so funny is how the animals live alongside people, doing people things, but without exciting comment. And they do it all regardless of the comparative size of things. Mole and Rat harness a horse to a gypsy caravan, field mice slice a ham and fry it for breakfast, Toad drives people cars and wears a washerwoman’s clothes to escape from prison. It is easy to see why this book remains popular. Among other claims to fame, Teddy Roosevelt said he read it several times, P.G. Wodehouse was clearly influenced by the lighthearted humor (one of his novels, Joy in the Morning, shares the same title as the carol sung by the field mice), and it shows up as one of Radcliffe's Top 100 Novels of the 20th Century. Also posted on Rose City Reader.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I managed to avoid somehow or other reading the complete Wind in the Willows until I was well into adulthood. Of course, it is probably impossible to escape bits of it such as Ratty's wise words...'Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing...."But I found myself reading the full version around the 100 year anniversary of its original publication in 1908. And, despite myself. Quite enjoyed it. There is a bit of the class struggle reflected in it with Toad representing the worst of inherited wealth and privilige and ratty the best blend of smarts and good-heartedness. But really, I didn't buy this book for the story and I already have 3 other copies of the W/W. I bought for the wonderful illustrations by Robert Ingpen. He really is a favourite illustrator of mine. And, as is pointed out in the preface, it is no mean challenge to illustrate a book where everyone has their own mental pictures of Toa's caravan, or of the wild wood, or ratty and Mole's boating expedition etc. But, to my mind, the Ingpen version is simply one of the best, His style is semi realist.....realist enough for one to enjoy the warmth of Badger's fire and the food hanging from the ceiling of his abode. (p 60-61). It doesn't do to be too critical however; Badger's kitchen is true to the text with the glow and the warmth of the fire-lit kitchen whereas a REAK Badger's lair would be pitch black and maybe damp and certainly smelly. There is so much fun detail in Inpen's paintings. (I assume they are watercolour) but not quite sure. And they fade into a blurriness that hints at more details but just not enough to resolve. His draftsmanship is superb and he manages to faithfully portray the various animals whilst bestowing a pleasing familiarity upon them. I don't know how many illustrations there are in the book but did a quick sample count and it averages out at 7.5 illustrations per 10 pages. That is a wealth of illustration and fit makes the book a delight to read to children. Some of my favourite illustrations are of mole in the wild wood with the rabbit p 50; Badger leading Rat and Mole through underground passageways p76; Rat and Mole in the rowing boat just prior to dawn p121; the weasels, armed to the teeth attacking Toad hall.....p195. But these are just a few of the absolute gems in the book. Strongly recommend it.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Surprisingly decent.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This book was charming the first time I read it. My Language arts teacher assained this book to read for class, I remember reading ahead and just smiling at Mole, River rat, Otter and Badger. Truthfully the first few sentences bored me a bit bit until I began to read the entire chapter. The story begins with a gentle lull and eventually captures the reader's attention. Mole is a loveable character, a bit like a child-minded gentleman. He reminds me of a hobbit in this book, his young mind is extremely captating when you first meet him. Ratty's attitute keeps the reader tuned in to find out what happens next. I highly suggest this book to people with larger vocabularies and a taste for countryside adventure.Mole is a normal everyday gentleman with a passion for housekeeping and tea time. One day he is spring cleaning and gets tired of it, he longs for adventure! Mole sets off across the country and runs into a River rat named Ratty. Ratty and Mold become fast friends and travel the world together, they meet new friends such as Toad, Badger and Weasle. Toad is a spoiled young lad who believes money is the answer to everything. Badge is a bit like the father of the bunch. The friends wander around England until they discover a plot against Toad's riches, they have to work together, even if they don't get along, to help their friend Toad, but the question is, how?
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    A cute story revolving around four animals and their trials and tribulations. There's nothing particularly substantial in it, although it should contain enough moral hints and cues for children to take note. Mr. Toad carried the story, partly because his behavior was so outrageous and that he apparently learned nothing from it, but the others, such as Mole and Rat, were real in their own way.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The introduction tells us this is "the first novel-length animal fantasy" and as such "foreshadowing" "Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh, Adam's Watership Down and White's Charlotte's Web. I've never read Winnie-the-Pooh, but I can't say I liked this one anywhere near as much as Watership Down or Charlotte's Web.. I think partly because those two other books the picture of the animals are consistent. The animals of Watership Down are ordinary rabbits, if rabbits had fables, myths and their own speech and consciousness. The animals of Charlotte's Web are animals who can speak to each other. The animals of The Wind in the Willows sometimes seem animal-shaped creatures who can be mistaken for humans, wear clothes and steal motorcars, and sometimes animals. And the stories seem more episodic compared to those other books. There is some lovely writing within, appealing tales of friendships (among males anyway, Grahame has seemingly little use for women) and certainly Toad of Toad Hall with his mania for motor-cars is unforgettable. Read for the first time as a adult, this doesn't have the appeal of say Alice in Wonderland, but I bet if I had first had it read to me at six-years-old or read it for myself at ten, I'd have been enchanted.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    The first novel my father bought me. Read it for the first time as an adult. It is without doubt my favourite book of all time. Grahame is a master. Should be read every Christmas.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A fun book, but I have not read it in years.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    A book that appears to have been part of everyone's childhood except mine. We had a lovely hardbound copy as long as I can remember, but I never read it until now. And it doesn't translate well to adults. Having been written a century ago, I expected it to be dated, but I didn't expect it to be quite so...odd. Each chapter is more or less a separate story about the same group of characters: poetic Rat, generous Mole, selfish Toad, gruff Badger, and friendly Otter. Toad has by far the most personality, what with his utter conceit and his obsession with motorcars, but he's less entertaining than tiresome. I don't have any issues with the idea of talking animals in general, but when they begin interacting with humans it can get a little strange. For example, the illustrations in this book show Toad at roughly half the height of an adult human - which he would have to be, given part of the storyline. Maybe I would like this book more had I grown up with it, but as it stands I just see it as a really bizarre little tale that I will most likely never read again.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    As the introduction (written back in the 80s by Grahame biographer Peter Green) rightly identifies, although Mr. Toad made The Wind in the Willows famous, his action packed adventures are the least evocative and I’d go further to say he’s the least interesting of the characters. The best chapter, Dulce Domum, in which Mole desperately seeks to return to his own home despite its humbleness is an intoxicatingly emotional description of the inescapable connection most of us have to our own familiar four walls however else we might imagine they seem to others (and nearly had me in tears by the time the carol singers arrived). The loyalty between Ratty and Mole is also especially touching, not unlike that between Sherlock and Watson, the former often riding roughshod of the latter’s feelings until he realises he’s gone too far, guilt sets in and he shambles about making amends.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Perhaps this is one of the books you either love (which I do) or can leave. Charming creatures, true friendship, mostly harmless adventure where all is well that ends well for those most deserving. The lessons of life captured here are as real as any among humans while spinning "tails" of lives we can never experience. Lovely fantasy and a pleasure to read aloud to children.I recently enjoyed this again just for myself on my kindle. I highly recommend this to anyone wishing to escape to simpler times when tea by a fire or a picnic by the river watching the clouds pass by is a pleasure you seek.The adventures of Toad are a bit more exciting.Truly a classic tale somewhere between Thornton Burgess and Beatrix Potter.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    Dreadfully tedious and boring. I have difficulty believing that children these days would enjoy either the language or story (or lack thereof). The only interesting part of the entire book was the reclaiming of Toad's estate and that ended in half a second.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Grandly humurous and entertaining adventures that have as much for adults as they do for children. Beautifull written with rich desciptions and characteriszations.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A great children's story. I recommend this for family-reading.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Charming. I can't believe I didn't read this as a kid, but I'm kind of glad I didn't...not often you come across a book that you "wish you could read again for the first time," and it IS the first time you've read it! Mr. Badger is my new hero.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This was required reading in my house. Not a day went by when someone didn't refer to dear Ratty, or Toad Hall. I had 3 copies by the time I was ten.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    A great series of stories that I loved as a kid and liked even more as an adult. A couple are slightly long for storytelling but many would be great for slightly older children.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    Perhaps if I'd had pleasant memories of this book as a child I may have a different view of it while reading it as an adult. It's beloved by so many that I wish I'd been introduced to it, unfortunately I was never able to find the charm in it or maintain any lasting interest.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This was perfect. I started stretching it out toward the end, only reading it in the evening when the mood was just right. I didn't want it to end. It was such a feel-good book. I totally loved the style of the writing. I think I'm going to take a look at a couple sequels that have been written but they weren't written by the same author so I'm not counting on anything.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    As a child at had one chapter of this book that had great illustrations, I always liked the art more then the story of toad stealing a car. Probably because it lacked the context of the rest of the book. When I saw it for free on my kindle I decided to get it a read. A very enjoyable book even for an adult.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    One of those 'books I feel I ought to have read by now'. And as a classic, I was expecting it to be better than it was. I enjoyed the descriptions of the scenery and the transitions of the year in the English countryside, but found the plot lacking and the portrayal of the characters strange and generally unconvincing. As was Toad's change of heart at the end. Rather an odd little book, really. I suspect it's something I would have enjoyed more if I'd first read it as a child.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I can't believe I hadn't read this book before now! Instant new favorite, reminiscent of all my favorite classic children's fantasies (obviously because it was written before all of them). That's said, it's not exactly a children's novel or an adult novel - it's a Book For People Like Me (particularly during chilly Januaries).
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Classic novel for the older elementary age students, who enjoy stories where animals come to life and take on human characteristics. A good book to teach adverbs and how to use your imagination to write a story.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    My copy is actually a hardback with beautiful illustrations. I always found this fun, though I preferred the early chapters to the end.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    When I was in the 3rd grade I chose this book for the diorama assignment.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    One of those few delightful books that always takes me to a place where life was full of astonishing mysteries and harmless ventures
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Originally published in 1908, this classic British animal fantasy began as a series of bedtime stories that the author created for his young son, and only found its way into print after Grahame retired from his career in banking. Described as everything from a paean to the beauty of English country life, to a portrait of the class structure of late Victorian Britain, The Wind in the Willows is one of those stories that can be interpreted in diverse ways, and appreciated on many different levels. The tale of four friends - humble Mole, who happens upon a new life and a new social circle one day, when he sticks his nose up out of his burrow; friendly Ratty, a stouthearted sailor and happy-go-lucky river-dweller, who serves to bind the friends together; wise and retiring Badger, who may prefer the solitude of his woods, but nevertheless proves a valuable ally and friend; and spoiled Toad (of Toad Hall), the conceited son of privilege, who has a better heart than either judgment or resolve - it is as engaging as it is well written, and every bit as relevant as the day it was first published.Chosen as our December selection, over in The Children's Fiction Book Club to which I belong, The Wind in the Willows is one of those books (of which there are far too many, I am afraid) that I have long been meaning to read, but to which I never seem to get to. How glad I am that my book-club commitments finally gave me the push I needed to pick it up, as I absolutely adored it! I can see why so many readers have recommended it to me over the years. The social analysis is certainly of interest - I find the idea (put forward in our book discussion, amongst other places) that the four friends each represent a different strata of the middle and upper classes, while the residents of The Wild Wood (the weasels, stoats and ferrets) represents the "underclass," quite convincing - although it was the beauty of the language that really stood out, on this initial read. The playful use of language, with made-up words and plenty of alliteration - So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws..." - the lyrical descriptions of the world of river and wood, and the gorgeous dreamlike passages leading up to the breathlessly magical encounter with Pan, in "Pipers at the Gates of Dawn," all left a powerful impression on me. I will be wanting to read this again, I think, and will be thinking of it for some time to come. It's just a lovely, lovely little book!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Entertaining and quite cute. I'm an adult, but this was the perfect book to enjoy while on holiday avoiding anything heavy.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Before I read this book, I thought that this is fantasy.But this is very instructive story.I can lean importance of friends and modesty again.I can notice that telling friends severe advice is difficult but considerate treatment.

Book preview

The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame

The Wind

in the Willows

Kenneth Grahame

The Wind in the Willows first published

by Wordsworth Editions Limited in 1993

Published as an ePublication 2013

ISBN 978 1 84870 187 8

Wordsworth Editions Limited

8B East Street, Ware, Hertfordshire SG12 9HJ

Wordsworth® is a registered trademark of

Wordsworth Editions Limited

Wordsworth Editions is

the company founded in 1987 by

MICHAEL TRAYLER

All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

Readers interested in other titles from Wordsworth Editions are invited to visit our website at

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For our latest list of printed books, and a full mail-order service contact

Bibliophile Books, Unit 5 Datapoint,

South Crescent, London E16 4TL

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orders@bibliophilebooks.com

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For my husband

ANTHONY JOHN RANSON

with love from your wife, the publisher

Eternally grateful for your

unconditional love

Introduction

To the moderately well-read person Kenneth Grahame is known as the author of two books written in the 1890s: The Golden Age and Dream Days. In his spare time he was Secretary of the Bank of England. Reading these delicately lovely visions of childhood, you might have wondered that he could be mixed up with anything so unlovely as a bank; and it may be presumed that at the bank an equal surprise was felt that such a responsible official could be mixed up with beauty.

In 1908 he wrote The Wind in the Willows. The first two books had been about children such as only the grown-up could understand; this one was about animals such as could be loved equally by young and old. It was natural that those critics who had saluted the earlier books as masterpieces should be upset by the author’s temerity in writing a different sort of book; natural that they should resent their inability to place the new book as more or less of a ‘children’s book’ than those which had actually had children in them. For this reason (or some other) The Wind in the Willows was not immediately the success which it should have been. Two people, however, became almost offensively its champions. One of them was no less important a person than the President of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt, who wrote:

The White House, Washington,

January 17, 1909

Personal

My dear Mr Grahame – My mind moves in ruts, as I suppose most minds do, and at first I could not reconcile myself to the change from the ever-delightful Harold and his associates, and so for some time I could not accept the toad, the mole, the water-rat and the badger as substitutes. But after a while Mrs Roosevelt and two of the boys, Kermit and Ted, all quite independently, got hold of The Wind Among the Willows and took such a delight in it that I began to feel that I might have to revise my judgment. Then Mrs Roosevelt read it aloud to the younger children, and I listened now and then. Now I have read it and reread it, and have come to accept the characters as old friends; and I am almost more fond of it than of your previous books. Indeed, I feel about going to Africa very much as the seafaring rat did when he almost made the water rat wish to forsake everything and start wandering!

I felt I must give myself the pleasure of telling you how much we had all enjoyed your book.

With all good wishes,

Sincerely yours,

Theodore Roosevelt

The other was no more important than the writer of this essay.

For years I have been talking about this book, quoting it, recommending it. In one of my early panegyrics I said: ‘I feel sometimes that it was I who wrote it and recommended it to Kenneth Grahame.’ This is even truer now than it seemed to be at the time. A few years ago I turned it into a play called Toad of Toad Hall, which ran for many Christmas seasons in London; and constant attendance at rehearsals made me so familiar with the spoken dialogue that I became more and more uncertain as to which lines of it were taken direct from the book, which lines were adapted, and which lines were entirely my own invention. It has been a great disappointment at times to see some pleasant quotation after the words: ‘As Kenneth Grahame so delightfully said,’ and to realise that he actually did say it . . . and an equal disappointment at times to realise that he didn’t.

When he and Mrs Grahame first came to see the play, they were charming enough to ask me to share their box. I was terrified, for had I been the writer of the book, and he the dramatist, I should have resented every altered word of mine and every interpolated word of his.

He was not like that. He sat there, an old man now, as eager as any child in the audience, and on the occasions (fortunately not too rare) when he could recognise his own words, his eye caught his wife’s, and they smiled at each other, and seemed to be saying: ‘I wrote that’ – ‘Yes, dear, you wrote that,’ and they nodded happily at each other, and turned their eyes again to the stage. It was almost as if he were thanking me in his royally courteous manner for letting him into the play at all, whereas, of course, it was his play entirely, and all I had hoped to do was not to spoil it. For, when characters have been created as solidly as those of Rat and Mole, Toad and Badger, they speak ever after in their own voices, and the dramatist has merely to listen and record.

One can argue over the merits of most books, and in arguing understand the point of view of one’s opponent. One may even come to the conclusion that possibly he is right after all. One does not argue about The Wind in the Willows. The young man gives it to the girl with whom he is in love, and if she does not like it, asks her to return his letters. The older man tries it on his nephew, and alters his will accordingly. The book is a test of character. We can’t criticise it, because it is criticising us. It is a Household Book; a book which everybody in the household loves, and quotes continually; a book which is read aloud to every new guest and is regarded as the touchstone of his worth. But I must give you one word of warning. When you sit down to it, don’t be so ridiculous as to suppose that you are sitting in judgement on my taste, or on the art of Kenneth Grahame. You are merely sitting in judgement on yourself. You may be worthy: I don’t know. But it is you who are on trial.

A. A. Milne

Chapter 1

The River Bank

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said ‘Bother!’ and ‘Oh blow!’ and also ‘Hang spring-cleaning!’ and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat. Something up above was calling him imperiously, and he made for the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the gravelled carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer to the sun and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged, and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, ‘Up we go! Up we go!’ till at last, pop! his snout came out into the sunlight, and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow.

‘This is fine!’ he said to himself. ‘This is better than whitewashing!’ The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout. Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living, and the delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side.

‘Hold up!’ said an elderly rabbit at the gap. ‘Sixpence for the privilege of passing by the private road!’ He was bowled over in an instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly from their holes to see what the row was about. ‘Onion-sauce! Onion-sauce!’ he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started grumbling at each other. ‘How stupid you are! Why didn’t you tell him – ’ ‘Well, why didn’t you say – ’ ‘You might have reminded him – ’ and so on, in the usual way, but, of course, it was then much too late, as is always the case.

It all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the meadows he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting – everything happy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead of having an uneasy conscience pricking him and whispering ‘Whitewash!’ he somehow could only feel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog among all these busy citizens. After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working.

He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in his life had he seen a river before – this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied animal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and leaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that shook themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake and a-shiver – glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.

As he sat on the grass and looked across the river, a dark hole in the bank opposite, just above the water’s edge, caught his eye, and dreamily he fell to considering what a nice snug dwelling-place it would make for an animal with few wants and fond of a bijou riverside residence, above flood-level and remote from noise and dust. As he gazed, something bright and small seemed to twinkle down in the heart of it, vanished, then twinkled once more like a tiny star. But it could hardly be a star in such an unlikely situation; and it was too glittering and small for a glow-worm. Then, as he looked, it winked at him, and so declared itself to be an eye; and a small face began gradually to grow up round it, like a frame round a picture.

A little brown face, with whiskers.

A grave round face, with the same twinkle in its eye that had first attracted his notice.

Small neat ears and thick silky hair.

It was the Water Rat!

Then the two animals stood and regarded each other cautiously.

‘Hullo, Mole!’ said the Water Rat.

‘Hullo, Rat!’ said the Mole.

‘Would you like to come over?’ enquired the Rat presently.

‘Oh, it’s all very well to talk,’ said the Mole, rather pettishly, he being new to a river and riverside life and its ways.

The Rat said nothing, but stooped and unfastened a rope and hauled on it; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not observed. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just the size for two animals; and the Mole’s whole heart went out to it at once, even though he did not yet fully understand its uses.

The Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his fore-paw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. ‘Lean on that!’ he said. ‘Now then, step lively!’ and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.

‘This has been a wonderful day!’ said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again. ‘Do you know, I’ve never been in a boat before in all my life.’

‘What?’ cried the Rat, open-mouthed. ‘Never been in a – you never – well, I – what have you been doing, then?’

‘Is it so nice as all that?’ asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.

‘Nice? It’s the only thing,’ said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. ‘Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,’ he went on dreamily: ‘messing – about – in – boats; messing – ’

‘Look ahead, Rat!’ cried the Mole suddenly.

It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in the air.

‘ – about in boats – or with boats,’ the Rat went on composedly, picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. ‘In or out of ’em, it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you’re always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you’ve done it there’s always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you’d much better not. Look here! If you’ve really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together and have a long day of it?’

The Mole waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with a sigh of full contentment, and leaned back blissfully into the soft cushions. ‘What a day I’m having!’ he said. ‘Let us start at once!’

‘Hold hard a minute, then!’ said the Rat. He looped the painter through a ring in his landing-stage, climbed up into his hole above, and after a short interval reappeared staggering under a fat, wicker luncheon-basket.

‘Shove that under your feet,’ he observed to the Mole, as he passed it down into the boat. Then he untied the painter and took the sculls again.

‘What’s inside it?’ asked the Mole, wriggling with curiosity.

‘There’s cold chicken inside it,’ replied the Rat briefly; ‘coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwidgespottedmeatgingerbeerlemonade-sodawater – ’

‘Oh stop, stop,’ cried the Mole in ecstasies: ‘This is too much!’

‘Do you really think so?’ enquired the Rat seriously. ‘It’s only what I always take on these little excursions; and the other animals are always telling me that I’m a mean beast and cut it very fine!’

The Mole never heard a word he was saying. Absorbed in the new life he was entering upon, intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the scents and the sounds and the sunlight, he trailed a paw in the water and dreamed long waking dreams. The Water Rat, like the good little fellow he was, sculled steadily on and forbore to disturb him.

‘I like your clothes awfully, old chap,’ he remarked after some half an hour or so had passed. ‘I’m going to get a black velvet smoking-suit myself some day, as soon as I can afford it.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said the Mole, pulling himself together with an effort. ‘You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me. So – this – is – a – River!’

‘The River,’ corrected the Rat.

‘And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!’

‘By it and with it and on it and in it,’ said the Rat. ‘It’s brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and (naturally) washing. It’s my world, and I don’t want any other. What it hasn’t got is not worth having, and what it doesn’t know is not worth knowing. Lord! the times we’ve had together! Whether in winter or summer, spring or autumn, it’s always got its fun and its excitements. When the floods are on in February, and my cellars and basement are brimming with drink that’s no good to me, and the brown water runs by my best bedroom window; or again when it all drops away and shows patches of mud that smells like

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