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The Wind in the Willows-Part18_Kenneth Grahame(1859-1932)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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`What sort of games are you up to?' said the Water Rat severely.

`You know it isn't time to be thinking of winter quarters yet, by



a long way!'

`O yes, we know that,' explained a field-mouse rather



shamefacedly; `but it's always as well to be in good time, isn't

it? We really MUST get all the furniture and baggage and



stores moved out of this before those horrid machines begin

clicking round the fields; and then, you know, the best flats get



picked up so quickly nowadays, and if you're late you have to put

up with ANYTHING; and they want such a lot of doing up, too,



before they're fit to move into. Of course, we're early, we know

that; but we're only just making a start.'



`O, bother STARTS,' said the Rat. `It's a splendid day. Come

for a row, or a stroll along the hedges, or a picnic in the



woods, or something.'

`Well, I THINK not TO-DAY, thank you,' replied the field-



mouse hurriedly. `Perhaps some OTHER day--when we've more

TIME----'



The Rat, with a snort of contempt, swung round to go, tripped

over a hat-box, and fell, with undignified remarks.



`If people would be more careful,' said a field-mouse rather

stiffly, `and look where they're going, people wouldn't hurt



themselves--and forget themselves. Mind that hold-all, Rat!

You'd better sit down somewhere. In an hour or two we may be



more free to attend to you.'

`You won't be "free" as you call it much this side of



Christmas, I can see that,' retorted the Rat grumpily, as he

picked his way out of the field.



He returned somewhat despondently to his river again--his

faithful, steady-going old river, which never packed up, flitted,



or went into winter quarters.

In the osiers which fringed the bank he spied a swallow sitting.



Presently it was joined by another, and then by a third; and the

birds, fidgeting restlessly on their bough, talked together



earnestly and low.

`What, ALREADY,' said the Rat, strolling up to them. `What's



the hurry? I call it simply ridiculous.'

`O, we're not off yet, if that's what you mean,' replied the



first swallow. `We're only making plans and arranging things.

Talking it over, you know--what route we're taking this year, and



where we'll stop, and so on. That's half the fun!'

`Fun?' said the Rat; `now that's just what I don't understand.



If you've GOT to leave this pleasant place, and your friends

who will miss you, and your snug homes that you've just settled



into, why, when the hour strikes I've no doubt you'll go

bravely, and face all the trouble and discomfort and change and



newness, and make believe that you're not very unhappy. But to

want to talk about it, or even think about it, till you really



need----'

`No, you don't understand, naturally,' said the second swallow.



`First, we feel it stirring within us, a sweet unrest; then back

come the recollections one by one, like homing pigeons. They



flutter through our dreams at night, they fly with us in our

wheelings and circlings by day. We hunger to inquire of each



other, to compare notes and assure ourselves that it was all

really true, as one by one the scents and sounds and names of



long-forgotten places come gradually back and beckon to us.'

`Couldn't you stop on for just this year?' suggested the Water



Rat, wistfully. `We'll all do our best to make you feel at home.

You've no idea what good times we have here, while you are far



away.'

`I tried "stopping on" one year,' said the third swallow. `I had



grown so fond of the place that when the time came I hung back

and let the others go on without me. For a few weeks it was all



well enough, but afterwards, O the weary length of the

nights! The shivering, sunless days! The air so clammy and



chill, and not an insect in an acre of it! No, it was no good;

my courage broke down, and one cold, stormy night I took wing,



flying well inland on account of the strong easterly gales. It

was snowing hard as I beat through the passes of the great



mountains, and I had a stiff fight to win through; but never

shall I forget the blissful feeling of the hot sun again on my



back as I sped down to the lakes that lay so blue and placid

below me, and the taste of my first fat insect! The past was



like a bad dream; the future was all happy holiday as I moved




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