The Wind in the Willows

An extract from

The Wind in the Willows

by Kenneth Grahame

The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. His shy nose

quivered as he sniffed the scent of honey and herbs and hot grass. He

climbed eagerly out of the hole, and the sunlight struck warm on his fur.

Never before had he seen a river!

All was a-shake and a-shiver—glints and gleams and sparkles,

chatter and bubble and splash. The Mole was beside himself with joy,

and he leaned forward, his heart throbbing as he gazed up and down the

riverbank.

As he looked, he heard a small, bright voice in his ear. “Hello,

Mole! I’m Ratty. Would you like to come for a ride in my boat?”

“What?” cried the Mole, open-mouthed: “Me? Up here?”

“Yes, of course!” said the Rat, and he patted a seat with his paw.

“Jump in!”

The Mole made one jump, and landed splosh in the water.

“Oh my!” he said, paddling about with a splash.

The Rat grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him up into the boat.

Mole shook himself, feeling rather foolish, but Ratty only laughed.

“Never you mind,” said the Rat. “You’ll soon get used to it. Let’s

have a float down the river together!”