The Wind in the Willows
by Kenneth Grahame

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THE WIND
IN THE WILLOWS

BY
KENNETH GRAHAME

AUTHOR OF
"THE GOLDEN AGE," "DREAM DAYS," ETC.




CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I. THE RIVER BANK
II. THE OPEN ROAD
III. THE WILD WOOD
IV. MR. BADGER
V. DULCE DOMUM
VI. MR. TOAD
VII. THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN
VIII. TOAD'S ADVENTURES
IX. WAYFARERS ALL
X. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOAD
XI. "LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS"
XII. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES





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.