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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
do
n'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
do
n'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
.
"
"
Could
n'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
southwards
week
by
week
,
easily
,
lazily
,
lingering
as
long
as
I
dared
,
but
always
heeding
the
call
!
No
,
I
had
had
my
warning
;
never
again
did
I
think
of
disobedience
.
"
