The Wind in The Willows
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‘There is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.’
A timeless and celebrated children’s classic, Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows has delighted for nearly 100 years. In the idyllic English countryside, Mole, Badger, Rat and Toad encounter adventure at every turn – whether it’s gipsy caravans, Rat’s love for the river, or Toads passion for motorcars, the loveable friends and their escapades continue to delight children and adults alike.
Kenneth Grahame
Kenneth Grahame was born in Edinburgh in 1859. He was educated at St Edward's School, Oxford, but family circumstances prevented him from entering Oxford University. He joined the Bank of England as a gentleman clerk in 1879, rising to become the Bank's Secretary in 1898. He wrote a series of short stories, married Elspeth Thomson in 1899 and their only child, Alistair, was born a year later. He left the Bank in 1908, the year that The Wind in the Willows was published. Though not an immediate success, by the time of Grahame's death in 1932 it was recognised as a children's classic.
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Reviews for The Wind in The Willows
3,407 ratings140 reviews
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I 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: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Not 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 stars4/5The 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: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Surprisingly decent.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I just finished reading this story to my five year-old daughter. She loved it! I sometimes needed to substitute more familiar vocabulary for less to create a smoother read aloud experience. For a slightly older child I wouldn't think this would be necessary. If you have only seen the Disney version, you are missing out. The characters are very genuine and lovable. The adventures they have are exciting without being terrifying, funny without being too silly, and the story is long enough for the reader (or read-to) to connect with the animals.I wasn't sure if the pace would be too slow for a young child, but it was not. The book could be divided into three acts: The River, The Woods, and Mr. Toad. Each story arc was exciting enough in it's own way to keep attention. The addition of so many wonderful full-color illustrations by Inga Moore only helped to hold interest. My daughter was truly sad to finish the final chapter. She now plays "Wind in the Willows" with her stuffed friends so that even though we have finished the book - the story continues.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I remember my mom reading this to me when I was young. Brings back such great memories. I picked it up for 40 cents in a second hand store and what a treasure. Best money I have spent in a long time.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The 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: 4 out of 5 stars4/5An important early science fiction allegory (obvious influence on Animal Farm) of closeted gay subculture in Edwardian Britain.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I like animals. So I choose this book.It was laugh out loud funny, especially the chapters about Mr. Toad. I loved it.This book characters have each personality. So I am not tired of this story.I want to go this book's world. This animals are very cute!!
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5
Five out of ten.
Finding the secret of the wind is hard enough without Mole wandering off into the Wild Wood and getting caught in a snowstorm or Toad stealing motorcars and landing in jail. Between practical Water Rat and wise old Badger, the four of them manage, after many great adventures and much laughter, to settle down to a quiet roar with an understanding of the wind's song and the Wild Wood.
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5What's the big deal with this piece of garbage? You have a bunch of critters goofing around, getting into ridiculous jams and reading boring poetry.To top it all you have the sociopath Mr Toad, with whom we're supposed to sympathize. Mr Toad is no Mister. He is just a slimy toad. He should have rotted in jail. Let the weasels have his manor - they seemed to make better use of it than the toad did.One can see why the book would be popular among the English owner class. 'Wind in the Willows' presents the owners in their favorite light - they appear to be goofy but lovable characters. The fight at the end of the novel is a fight for the property rights of the indolent aristocracy.But why would a normal person like this drivel? Do you claim you should be allowed to steal a car, get hammered, cause an accident, and then escape jail? Do you perhaps own a manor that has been invaded by bums during your extended bender? What kind of a children's book is this?To hell with 'Mr Toad' and this crummy 'classic'.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5As I child, I tried to read this book several times. Each time, I made it about 1/2 a chapter in and I was bored to tears and stopped. But I kept being drawn back to it for two reasons. 1) It had animals in it and I found that appealing. 2) Disneyland's Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Come on... a ride like that had to come from a great book!!So I'm now an adult and I'm walking through Borders and I see it on a discount rack. I grab it with the same instinct - knowing it must be a good book. This time, I made it past the first chapter. Midway through Chapter Two, I was hooked.What a beautifully written book. it was absolutely magical and eloquently written. I could just read some of the paragraphs and chapters over and over. My particular favorites were Dulce Domum, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and Wayfarers All. These are some of the best writing I have read in a long time. The end was a bit of an off trajectory from the rest of the book... but still fun - a little more like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.... funny though, now that I'm an adult I wasn't as attracted to this aspect. It was the beauty of the chapters noted above.But I do want to go to Disneyland again, just to experience it from a knowing perspective...
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Such a funny book! You are introduced to Mole who leaves his home to go out and travel. He meets Ratty and takes up life on the river. All to soon we are introduced to my favorite character Mr. Toad of Toad Hall. That silly little fellow does whatever he takes it into his head to do, from traveling in a canary-yellow gypsy wagon to stealing a motor car. After being arrested Toad comes home to find Weasels have taken over Toad Hall. Ratty, Badger, and Mole must fight to save his home.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is a childrens book about four riverside animals the Water Rat, the Mole, the Badger and the Toad. It is an exciting and funny narrative about their adventures. The language is superb and it gives a good feel of the English countryside.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Kenneth Grahame's classic children's novel, The Wind in the Willows, is the story of a friendship, a picnic, an encounter with the divine, a daring impersonation, a jail-break, a secret passage, a battle, and any number of motorcars. It combines at once the fantasy imagination of a bank secretary and the comforts of a well-off British home, peopled by a collection of memorable animal characters whose foibles continue to delight readers of all ages. At least, they delighted this reader!As I read it this time, I was struck by how much it reminded me of C. S. Lewis's Narnia books. Grahame's tone is the closest to Lewis's that I've ever read: genial, oh-so-British, and wonderfully humorous (as when Mole "had started his spring-cleaning at a very early hour that morning; as people will do" (34)). There are also religious/spiritual undertones that occasionally come quite sharply to the forefront, but somehow never jar the tenor of the stories. The presence of the divine is a natural feature of the imaginative landscape of both worlds. Both Willows and Narnia are home to humanized animal characters who reflect all the ideas and mindsets of their creators. And yet these characters are faithful to the quirks of their species as well. I love the part in Willows when it is explained to us that animal etiquette demands that one should never comment on the sudden disappearance of another animal for any reason at all.Of course, Willows was published in 1908, while the Narnia books appeared in 1950–1957. So all my perceptions of Grahame being like Lewis are backwards; really it's Lewis who was influenced by Grahame (in his Poems, Lewis refers to some of Grahame's characters by name). Lewis was by far the most prominent author in my own childhood and so remains the standard by which I measure other similar works, but there is always room for more kindred-spirited literature among my favorites.Another fascinating fantasy connection I noticed—or imagined, anyways—is actually related to J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, in the invasion of the comfortable little British home and how physical force, actual pitched battle, is necessary to rout the intruders. Go adventuring, by all means, but your safe home may not be yours when you return...Though I alluded earlier to the classic status of The Wind in the Willows, I think Grahame is underrated both as an author and as an influence on the British children's authors who would follow him. At least, he was to me before this reread. This is an utterly delightful book that fully deserves its place among the very best of children's literature. And, like its company, it is just as delightful to adult readers as it is to younger. I'm already wanting to reread!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5classi children's story well loved
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5A 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 stars5/5Unfortunately, I never got the opportunity to read this classic work as an older child, but I do see it as more an older piece of children's literature that needs to be preserved and kept open for youth (even if it is dry or hard for them to understand the humor).I absolutely loved reading this book. It was so good I got goosebumps when it ended. I plan on reading the spin-off series and seeing what sort of links and take offs there are. My favorite character in this book was Rat, because he was responsible and doing the right thing in the benefit of Mole. I saw him really always genuine when he was thinking about Toad and his friends. He put everyone else first and himself last. In my opinion, it was Rat's doing that made this that made this book wrapped in a timeless and unconditional friendship... not only cute and hilarious, but rightly achieved.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is a book with memorable images. I remember it much as I a remember a dream, at least one that stays in my mind. This memory is no doubt reinforced by the Disney film version of the story, but that does not detract from the impression the book made on a young boy. It is a book to which I plan to return and see if it still retains its power to impress and amaze me.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Somewhere alongside a river lives a Water Rat and a Mole, two friends who take pleasure in the simple things, like taking a ride in Ratty's boat and having a picnic. Their friends Toad, Otter and Badger, living near the river and in the Wide Wood, join them in various adventures throughout the seasons.Somehow, when I was young and reading The Chronicles Narnia and all the Thornton W. Burgess tales, I missed this children's classic featuring Mole and the Water Rat, pompous old Toad and the sturdy Badger. I especially loved Toad, his faddish delights and mood swings from deepest despair to puffed up self-display. This was a truly charming read, by turns familiar (due to a movie I saw as a child) and new. The episodic chapters and long, meandering sentences lend themselves to a read-aloud, and I look forward to someday sharing this story with a young child.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I don't like talking animal books, most especially when the animals interact with humans and are smaller than them one minute and the same size the next (as with Toad passing for a washerwoman). Then we have the issue of the main characters apparently having a great deal of wealth and not having to work or gather food, while the other animals do. As if this weren't bad enough- I hated Toad. Throughout the latter half of the book, I was hoping that he would die a horrible death. Overall it read fast, but was an awful story.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This book is classics.A various character like the Mole, the Water Rat, the toad, and badger. When The Toad get interested in the motor car, various things happens... There were many animal characters, but I irritated Toad sometime for his boast.The end of story, his character problem is solved, so I felt relieved.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Interesting to revisit an old friend. The good bits are still good, but I really can't warm to toad. I kept getting distracted by wondering how they earned a living and what size they were meant to be - the disadvantage of growing up.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Wind in the Willows is regarded as a classic of chidlren's literature, and while it is enjoyable, I'm not sure it deserves that status. The book follows the activities (I hesitate to call some of the trivial things they engage in adventures) of four animal friends: Mole, Water Rat, Badger, and Toad. For the most part, the book follows Mole and Water Rat, who serve as stand-ins for middle-class English country gentlemen. The pair spend their days boating on the river, having very English picnic lunches and dinners, hosting poor Christmas carolers, exploring the enticing and dangerous wild wood, and trying to keep the aristocratic Toad from getting into trouble.One thing that is never clear in the book is why Mole and Water Rat are middle class, why Toad is wealthy, and why Badger is working class, although they all clearly are. The Otter family and the field mouse carolers seems to be poor as well,and the weasels and stoats are essentially poverty-stricken ruffians. No one seems to do any work in the animal worls, so it is unclear why the field mice are poor, while Mole is comfortable enough to have them all in for a bite to eat when they knock at his door. It is a mystery how Toad is able to afford the multiple cars he purchases (and wrecks) in the story. This bit of English class structure, while giving an interesting window on the state of the world in Grahame's era, makes the book more than a little dated, and probably not particularly approachable for a young reader today.For the most part, the four friends putter around doing more or less mundane things - the biggest excitement in the first half of the book is when Mole and Water Rat find and return one of the Otter children who had gotten lost. The actual adventures, such as they are, of the quartet are heavily driven by Toad and what appear to be his attempts to stave off the boredom that comes with being wealthy and idle. He steals a car, gets thrown in jail, escapes, and finds his home taken over by ruffians (Stoats and Weasels), whereupon the four friends arm themselves with clubs, pistols, and swords, and toss the trespassers out. They, of course, immediately plan a party to celebrate.The book is mostly noteworthy for its love of country living, and the unspoiled, but tamed English countryside (the river dwellers being carefully distinguished from those that live in "the wild wood"). In some ways, Grahame is a predecessor of Tolkien, wishing that a pastoral way of life would persist and not be overcome by industiralization and a breaking down of class barriers.On the whole, the book is fun, even if the doings of the protagonists range from the merely trivial to the criminal, and probably worth giving to a child to read, but I would not consider this to have the "must read" status that it has been accorded.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5this was probably one of the first books I read on my own, my father used to read it to me often but I never liked his story telling voice so I used to read ahead while looking at the words since of course, the book was open. I've always had great eyesight. lots of carrots. my father also took me to the play version in London when I was probably 7-9. that was the best times for our relationship. before my brother was born, it was more about him and me. this book reminds me of him and me. me and him. Him and I. I am Him. there is a reason people say I look like him. i come from his sperm whether it was in a tube or not. I don't remember much about the actual story but I remember thinking the toad was a total lame bummer and wasn't feeling his vibe. fucking toads.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The enchanting story of animals that live in the Wild Wood.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Not one of my favourites, but still a good classic read.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Great fun to reacquaint myself with Rat, Mole, Badger and Toad after so many years. Something was missing from the magical experience........Yes, a young child hanging off every word. Looks like one to keep for any future grand children
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A fun book, but I have not read it in years.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Wow, I never read this as a child, my only exposure was from Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at Disneyland. What an amazing book. Just finished reading this book to my five-year-old son. We both loved it. A wonderful story, such expressive writing. Great characters. I'll be reading this again.
Book preview
The Wind in The Willows - Kenneth Grahame
THE WIND
IN THE
WILLOWS
Kenneth Grahame
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Chapter 1 The River Bank
Chapter 2 The Open Road
Chapter 3 The Wild Wood
Chapter 4 Mr Badger
Chapter 5 Dulce Domum
Chapter 6 Mr Toad
Chapter 7 The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
Chapter 8 Toad’s Adventures
Chapter 9 Wayfarers All
Chapter 10 The Further Adventures of Toad
Chapter 11 ‘Like Summer Tempests Came His Tears’
Chapter 12 The Return of Ulysses
Classic Literature: Words and Phrases Adapted from the Collins English Dictionary
About the Author
History of Collins
Copyright
About the Publisher
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 ‘O 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 brown little 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?’ inquired the Rat presently.
‘O, 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 stopped 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; ‘coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrench rollscresssandwidgespottedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesoda water –’
‘O stop, stop,’ cried the Mole in ecstasies: ‘This is too much!’
‘Do you really think so?’ inquired 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 smell like plum-cake, and the rushes and weed clog the channels, and I can potter about dry-shod over most of the bed of it and find fresh food to eat, and things careless people have dropped out of boats!’
‘But isn’t it a bit dull at times?’ the Mole ventured to ask. ‘Just you and the river, and no one else to pass a word with?’
‘No one else to – well, I mustn’t be hard on you,’ said the Rat with forbearance. ‘You’re new to it, and of course you don’t know. The bank is so crowded nowadays that many people are moving away altogether. O no, it isn’t what it used to be, at all. Otters, kingfishers, dabchicks, moorhens, all of them about all day long and always wanting you to do something – as if a fellow had no business of his own to attend to!’
‘What lies over there?’ asked the Mole, waving a paw towards a background of woodland that darkly framed the water-meadows on one side of the river.
‘That? O, that’s just the Wild Wood,’ said the Rat shortly. ‘We don’t go there very much, we river-bankers.’
‘Aren’t they – aren’t they very nice people in there?’ said the Mole a trifle nervously.
‘W-e-ll,’ replied the Rat, ‘let me see. The squirrels are all right. And the rabbits – some of ’em, but rabbits are a mixed lot. And then there’s Badger, of course. He lives right in the heart of it; wouldn’t live anywhere else, either, if you paid him to do it. Dear old Badger! Nobody interferes with him. They’d better not,’ he added significantly.
‘Why, who should interfere with him?’ asked the Mole.
‘Well, of course – there – are others,’ explained the Rat in a hesitating sort of way. ‘Weasels – and stoats – and foxes – and so on. They’re all right in a way – I’m very good friends with them – pass the time of day when we meet, and all that – but they break out sometimes, there’s no denying it, and then – well, you can’t really trust them, and that’s the fact.’
The Mole knew well that it is quite against animal-etiquette to dwell on possible trouble ahead, or even to allude to it; so he dropped the subject.
‘And beyond the Wild Wood again?’ he asked: ‘Where it’s all blue and dim, and one sees what may be hills or perhaps they mayn’t, and something like the smoke of towns, or is it only cloud-drift?’
‘Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,’ said the Rat. ‘And that’s something that doesn’t matter, either to you or me. I’ve never been there, and I’m never going, nor you either, if you’ve got any sense at all. Don’t ever refer to it again, please. Now then! Here’s our backwater at last, where we’re going to lunch.’
Leaving the main stream, they now passed into what seemed at first sight like a little landlocked lake. Green turf sloped down to either edge, brown snaky tree-roots gleamed below the surface of the quiet water, while ahead of them the silvery shoulder and foamy tumble of a weir, arm-in-arm with a restless dripping mill-wheel, that held up in its turn a grey-gabled mill-house, filled the air with a soothing murmur of sound, dull and smothery, yet with little clear voices speaking up cheerfully out of it at intervals. It was so very beautiful that the Mole could only hold up both fore-paws and gasp, ‘O my! O my! O my!’
The Rat brought the boat alongside the bank, made her fast, helped the still awkward Mole safely ashore, and swung out the luncheon-basket. The Mole begged as a favour to be allowed to unpack it all by himself; and the Rat was very pleased to indulge him, and to sprawl at full length on the grass and rest, while his excited friend shook out the table-cloth and spread it, took out all the mysterious packets one by one and arranged their contents in due order, still gasping, ‘O my! O my!’ at each fresh revelation. When all was ready, the Rat said, ‘Now, pitch in, old fellow!’ and the Mole was indeed very glad to obey, for he had started his spring-cleaning at a very early hour that morning, as people will do, and had not paused for bite or sup; and he had been through a very great deal since that distant time which now seemed so many days ago.
‘What are you looking at?’ said the Rat presently, when the edge of their hunger was somewhat dulled, and the Mole’s eyes were able to wander off the tablecloth a little.
‘I am looking,’ said the Mole, ‘at a streak of bubbles that I see travelling along the surface of the water. That is a thing that strikes me as funny.’
‘Bubbles? Oho!’ said the Rat, and chirruped cheerily in an inviting sort of way.
A broad glistening muzzle showed itself above the edge of the bank, and the Otter hauled himself out and shook the water from his coat.
‘Greedy beggars!’ he observed, making for the provender. ‘Why didn’t you invite me, Ratty?’
‘This was an impromptu affair,’ explained the Rat. ‘By the way – my friend, Mr Mole.’
‘Proud, I’m sure,’ said the Otter, and the two animals were friends forthwith.
‘Such a rumpus everywhere!’ continued the Otter. ‘All the world seems out on the river today. I came up this backwater to try and get a moment’s peace, and then stumble upon you fellows! At least – I beg pardon – I don’t exactly mean that, you know.’
There was a rustle behind them, proceeding from a hedge wherein last year’s leaves still clung thick, and a stripy head, with high shoulders behind it, peered forth on them.
‘Come on, old Badger!’ shouted the Rat.
The Badger trotted forward a pace or two; then grunted, ‘H’m! Company,’ and turned his back and disappeared from view.
‘That’s just the sort of fellow he is!’ observed the disappointed Rat. ‘Simply hates Society! Now we shan’t see any more of him today. Well, tell us who’s out on the river?’
‘Toad’s out, for one,’ replied the Otter. ‘In his brand-new wager-boat; new togs, new everything!’
The two animals looked at each other and laughed.
‘Once, it was nothing but sailing,’ said the Rat. ‘Then he tired of that and took to punting. Nothing would please him but to punt all day and every day, and a nice mess he made of it. Last year it was house-boating, and we all had to go and stay with him in his house-boat, and pretend we liked it. He was going to spend the rest of his life in a house-boat. It’s all the same, whatever he takes up; he gets tired of it, and starts on something fresh.’
‘Such a good fellow, too,’ remarked the Otter reflectively. ‘But no stability – especially in a boat!’
From where they sat they could get a glimpse of the main stream across the island that separated them; and just then a wager-boat flashed into view, the rower – a short, stout figure – splashing badly and rolling a good deal, but working his hardest. The Rat stood up and hailed him, but Toad – for it was he – shook his head and settled sternly to his work.
‘He’ll be out of the boat in a minute if he rolls like that,’ said the Rat, sitting down again.
‘Of course he will,’ chuckled the Otter. ‘Did I ever tell you that good story about Toad and the lock-keeper? It happened this way. Toad …’
An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing life. A swirl of water and a ‘cloop!’ and the May-fly was visible no more.
Neither was the Otter.
The Mole looked down. The voice was still in his ears, but the turf whereon he had sprawled was clearly vacant. Not an Otter to be seen, as far as the distant horizon.
But again there was a streak of bubbles on the surface of the river.
The Rat hummed a tune, and the Mole recollected that animal-etiquette forbade any sort of comment on the sudden disappearance of one’s friends at any moment, for any reason or no reason whatever.
‘Well, well,’ said the Rat, ‘I suppose we ought to be moving. I wonder which of us had better pack the luncheon-basket?’ He did not speak as if he was frightfully eager for the treat.
‘O, please let me,’ said the Mole. So, of course, the Rat let him.
Packing the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking the basket. It never is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying everything, and although just when he had got the basket packed and strapped up tightly he saw a plate staring up at him from the grass, and when the job had been done again the Rat pointed out a fork which anybody ought to have seen, and last of all, behold! the mustard-pot, which he had been sitting on without knowing it – still, somehow, the thing got finished at last, without much loss of temper.
The afternoon sun was getting low as the Rat sculled gently homewards in a dreamy mood, murmuring poetry-things over to himself, and not paying much attention to Mole. But the Mole was very full of lunch, and self-satisfaction, and pride, and already quite at home in a boat (so he thought) and was getting a bit restless besides: and presently he said, ‘Ratty! Please, I want to row, now!’
The Rat shook his head with a smile. ‘Not yet, my young friend,’ he said – ‘wait till you’ve had a few lessons. It’s not so easy as it looks.’
The Mole was quiet for a minute or two. But he began to feel more and more jealous of Rat, sculling so strongly and so easily along, and his pride began to whisper that he could do it every bit as well. He jumped up and seized the sculls, so suddenly, that the Rat, who was gazing out over the water and saying more poetry-things to himself, was taken by surprise and fell backwards off his seat with his legs in the air for the second time, while the triumphant Mole took his place and grabbed the sculls with entire confidence.
‘Stop it, you silly ass!’ cried the Rat, from the bottom of the boat. ‘You can’t do it! You’ll have us over!’
The Mole flung his sculls back with a flourish, and made a great dig at the water. He missed the surface altogether, his legs flew up above his head, and he found himself lying on the top of the prostrate Rat. Greatly alarmed, he made a grab at the side of the boat, and the next moment – Sploosh!
Over went the boat, and he found himself struggling in the river.
O my, how cold the water was, and O, how very wet it felt. How it sang in his ears as he went down, down, down! How bright and welcome the sun looked as he rose to the surface coughing and spluttering! How black was his despair when he felt himself sinking again! Then a firm paw gripped him by the back of his neck. It was the Rat, and he was evidently laughing – the Mole could feel him laughing, right down his arm and through his paw, and