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
afterward