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The Golden Age-Part1_Kenneth Grahame(1859-1932)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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imprisonment,--indeed he had very soon escaped by the window,

with assistance from his allies, and had only gone back in time



for his release,--as the Olympian habit. A word would have set

all right; but of course that word was never spoken.



Well! The Olympians are all past and gone. Somehow the sun does

not seem to shine so brightly as it used; the trackless meadows



of old time have shrunk and dwindled away to a few poor acres. A

saddening doubt, a dull suspicion, creeps over me. Et in



Arcadia ego,--I certainly did once inhabit Arcady. Can it be I

too have become an Olympian?



A HOLIDAY.

The masterful wind was up and out, shouting and chasing, the lord



of the morning. Poplars swayed and tossed with a roaring swish;

dead leaves sprang aloft, and whirled into space; and all the



clear-swept heaven seemed to thrill with sound like a great harp.

It was one of the first awakenings of the year. The earth



stretched herself, smiling in her sleep; and everything leapt and

pulsed to the stir of the giant's movement. With us it was a



whole holiday; the occasion a birthday--it matters not whose.

Some one of us had had presents, and pretty conventional



speeches, and had glowed with that sense of heroism which is no

less sweet that nothing has been done to deserve it. But the



holiday was for all, the rapture of awakening Nature for all, the

various outdoor joys of puddles and sun and hedge-breaking for



all. Colt-like I ran through the meadows, frisking happy

heels in the face of Nature laughing responsive. Above, the sky



was bluest of the blue; wide pools left by the winter's floods

flashed the colour back, true and brilliant; and the soft air



thrilled with the germinating touch that seemed to kindle

something in my own small person as well as in the rash primrose



already lurking in sheltered haunts. Out into the brimming sun-

bathed world I sped, free of lessons, free of discipline and



correction, for one day at least. My legs ran of themselves, and

though I heard my name called faint and shrill behind, there was



no stopping for me. It was only Harold, I concluded, and his

legs, though shorter than mine, were good for a longer spurt than



this. Then I heard it called again, but this time more faintly,

with a pathetic break in the middle; and I pulled up short,



recognising Charlotte's plaintive note.

She panted up anon, and dropped on the turf beside me. Neither



had any desire for talk; the glow and the glory of existing on

this perfect morning were satisfaction full and sufficient.



"Where's Harold;" I asked presently.

"Oh, he's just playin' muffin-man, as usual," said Charlotte



with petulance. "Fancy wanting to be a muffin-man on a whole

holiday!"



It was a strange craze, certainly; but Harold, who invented his

own games and played them without assistance, always stuck



staunchly to a new fad, till he had worn it quite out. Just at

present he was a muffin-man, and day and night he went through



passages and up and down staircases, ringing a noiseless bell and

offering phantom muffins to invisible wayfarers. It sounds a



poor sort of sport; and yet--to pass along busy streets of your

own building, for ever ringing an imaginary bell and offering



airy muffins of your own make to a bustling thronging crowd of

your own creation--there were points about the game, it cannot be



denied, though it seemed scarce in harmony with this radiant

wind-swept morning!



"And Edward, where is he?" I questioned again.

"He's coming along by the road," said Charlotte. "He'll be



crouching in the ditch when we get there, and he's going to be a

grizzly bear and spring out on us, only you mustn't say I told



you, 'cos it's to be a surprise."

"All right," I said magnanimously. "Come on and let's be



surprised." But I could not help feeling that on this day of

days even a grizzly felt misplaced and common.



Sure enough an undeniable bear sprang out on us as we dropped

into the road; then ensued shrieks, growlings, revolver-shots,



and unrecorded heroisms, till Edward condescended at last to roll

over and die, bulking large and grim, an unmitigated grizzly. It



was an understood thing, that whoever took upon himself to be a

bear must eventually die, sooner or later, even if he were the






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