Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Warm Home

When the two animals were chatting and laughing and hurried past excitedly, the flock of sheep huddled against the hedge, snorted from their small nostrils, stepped on their slender front feet, raised their heads, and a faint steam flowed from the crowded sheep pen. Rise into the frigid air.The two animals had followed the otters through a long day of hunting and exploring over the wide hill country where some of the little streams of their river flowed, and were now returning across the fields. Home.The winter days were short and it was getting dark, but they still had a way to go.They scrambled across the plowed field, heard the sheep bleating, and approached them; they saw that there was now a trodden path at the sheepfold, which was much easier to walk, and which answered the inquisitive pettiness which all animals have. Son, said firmly: "Yes, that's right, this road leads to home!"

"Looks like we're coming to a village," said the Mole a little doubtfully, slowing his pace. The trodden path became first a trail, then a larger road, which now took them to a nice gravel avenue.Animals disliked villages and their usual roads, and went their own way, ignoring chapels, post-offices, or taverns. "Oh, never mind!" said the Rat. "At this time of year, they're all indoors at this time, safe and secure, sitting around the fire, men, women, children, dogs and cats and all. If you don’t see any disturbance or trouble, you can look into their windows and see what they’re doing if you’re happy.”

When they came there lightly on the thin snow powder, the night that fell quickly in mid-December had enveloped the small village.I can't see anything anymore, only the dark red squares on both sides of the street, which are the fires and lights of every small farmhouse spilling through the windows into the dark world outside.Most of the low lattice windows don’t need curtains, so the animals peeping outside can see them. The residents inside are gathered around the tea table, or are buried in handicrafts, or laughing, gesturing and chatting, each with their own happy and graceful postures, Difficult even for experienced actors to capture - natural beauty is always observed inadvertently.Two observers move randomly from theater to theater, so far from their own homes, to watch a cat being stroked, a sleepy baby being picked up and put to bed, or a tired person Stretching and tapping their pipes on a smoldering block, they couldn't help but see something longing in their eyes.

But there is a small window with its curtains drawn, leaving only a transparent void in the night. It is this that makes people miss home the most, the small world within the four walls--the tension of nature outside. The big world is shut out and forgotten.Close to the white curtain hangs a birdcage, sharply defined, every wire, perch, etc., down to the sugar cubes that had been bitten off the sides yesterday.On the middle perch, the bird tucked its head into its feathers, as if they were close enough to pet it if they wanted to; even the tips of its full plumage were clearly outlined on the lighted curtain.As they watched, the sleeping bird quivered uncomfortably, awoke, trembling, and lifted its head.It yawned uncomfortably, and they could see it open its beak and yawn in boredom, look around, put its head back on its back, and the loose feathers slowly fell flat again, motionless .At this time, a gust of cold wind blew on the back of their necks, and the skin was so cold that it stings a little, making them wake up like a dream. They felt cold toes and sore legs, and their own home was still far away and had to go It took a long time to arrive.

Once out of the village the cottages were gone, and in the dark they again smelled the kindly smell of the fields on both sides of the road; they braced themselves for the last long walk, the journey home, and the journey must come to an end, its end There will be the rattling of bolts, the sudden flickering of fires, the sight of familiar things that welcome them like returning guests from a long-lost voyage.They kept walking quietly and heavily, each thinking about his own thoughts.The Mole couldn't stop thinking about his supper, but it was dark anyway, and it was a completely strange place to him, so he followed the Rat obediently, and obeyed him completely.As for the Rat, he walked a little ahead, his shoulders arched, as was his wont, his eyes fixed on the straight gray road ahead, and he paid no attention to poor Mole, who suddenly felt A call, all of a sudden like an electric shock.

We human beings have long lost the subtle sense of the body, and we don’t even have some special words to express an animal’s communication with its surroundings and animals. For example, we only use the word “smell” to summarize the animal’s whining in its nose day and night. A whole host of subtle stimuli: calling, warning, provocation, denial.In the darkness, it was one of these mysterious and magical calls that suddenly came to Mole from the open space, and made him so excited by this very familiar call, though he could not yet remember clearly what it was.He stopped motionless on the road, groping around with his nose to recapture the current that touched him so strongly.After a while he received it again; but this time the memories came flooding back.

Home!That was what they meant with these sweet calls, these soft caresses wafting from the air, these little invisible hands pulling him all in one direction!Yes, his old home must be very close to him now, the first time he found the river that day, he hastily abandoned it and never looked for it again!Now it was sending out its scouts and heralds to catch him and bring him back.He had scarcely thought of it since he fled that fine morning, so absorbed in his new life, enjoying its delights, its wonder, its newness, its charm.Now the memory of the past was flooding, and how clearly the old home loomed before him in the darkness!It was shabby indeed, and small and poorly furnished, but it was his home after all, he had built it for himself, and he had been so happy to go back to it after a day's work.Apparently the family had been so happy with him too, that it was missing him, asking him to go back, and telling him so through his nose, sadly, reproachfully, but without resentment or anger; just reminding him It's there, asking him to go back.

The call is clear, the call is clear.He must listen to it immediately and go back. "Rat!" he cried with joyful excitement. "Stop! Come back! I need you, come on!" "Oh, come on, Mole, come on!" replied the Rat cheerfully, walking on. "Please stop, Rat!" implored the poor Mole, in great anguish, "you don't understand! That's my home, my old home! I just smelled it, and it's near here , very near indeed. I must go, I must go, I must go! Oh, come back, Rat! Come back, I beg you!" By this time the Rat had gone far ahead, far It was too far to hear what the Mole was calling, and too far away to hear the shrill cry of pain in his voice.He was very concerned about the weather, because he also smelled something else—it seemed that it was going to snow.

"We can't stop now, Mole!" he cried over his shoulder. "Whatever you find, we'll come back to-morrow. I can't stop now - it's too late, the snow's coming, and I'm on my way! But I need your nose, Mole , so come quickly, please do me a favor!" The Rat did not wait for an answer, but walked straight on. Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart broken.Somewhere in his body, the crying was getting bigger and bigger, and he knew it was about to come in and out.But even under such a test, his loyalty to his friend was unbreakable.It never occurred to him for a second to leave him.At this moment the calls of his old home begged him, whispered to him, implored him, and finally ordered him sternly.He dared not linger in its magical circle any longer.With a jerk that snapped at his heart-strings, he looked down at the road, and followed the Rat's trail obediently, while the thin, faint smell still stalked his fleeing nose, and reproached him for being greedy for new and old for old.

He was desperately chasing the Rat, who knew nothing.The Rat began chattering cheerfully about what they were going to do when they got back, and how pleasant the log fire would be in the drawing-room, and what supper he would like to have; The partner was silent and pained in his heart. At last, when they had gone a long way, and were passing some stumps beside the underbrush by the side of the road, he stopped and said softly, "Well, Mole, old chap, you seem to be exhausted. No sound, and the legs drag like lead. Let's sit down here and rest for a while. The snow has dragged on until now, and it's going to be hard to go now."

The Mole sat down forlornly on a stump, and tried to get himself under control, for he felt he couldn't help it.He had held back the crying for so long and refused to give in.It just kept coming up, harder and faster,' until poor Mole finally gave up the struggle and wept wildly, helplessly, openly, and now he knew it was all over, he had Lost what he had found. The Rat was startled and astonished at the sudden grief of the Mole, and at first hesitated to speak, until at last he said softly and sympathetically, "What's the matter, old chap? What's the matter? Tell me your troubles, and let me figure out a solution!" Poor Mole's chest rose and fell so rapidly that he choked the words out, and found it difficult to speak. "I know it's a . . . dirty little place," he said, weeping, staccato at the end, "not like . ...But it's my own little home...I like it...I left it and forgot all about it...Then I smelled it...On the way, when I told you not to Listening to it, Rat... it all came back to me at once... I want it! . . . It, though I keep smelling it... I think my heart would break... We could have just looked at it, Rat... Just one look... It's around here... But you won't Come back, Rat, you won't come back! Oh, dear, oh, dear!" The memory brought fresh waves of sorrow, and he wept again. The Rat stared straight ahead, and said nothing, but patted the Mole lightly on the shoulder.After a while he grunted sullenly, "Now I see! What a pig I was just now! A pig - that's me! Just a pig - a real pig !" He waited until the Mole's cries grew less violent and more rhythmic; he waited until at last there were more grunts and the cries were only intermittent; Well we do go now, old chap!" He started on his way again, but walked back the way they had come so hard. "Where are you (er) going (er), Rat?" cried the tearful Mole, looking up apprehensively. "We're going to your house, old chap," answered the Rat cheerfully, "so you'd better come quickly, for there's still a little more to look for, and we need your nose." "Oh, come back, Rat, come back!" cried the Mole, getting up and running after him. "I'm telling you it's no good! It's too late, it's too dark, and it's far away, and it's going to snow! And... and I don't want you to know how much I think about it... All by accident and mistake! Or Think of the banks, think of your supper!" "Let the bank be to itself! And the supper to be to itself," said the Rat, earnestly. "I tell you, I'm going to find this place, even if I'm out all night. Be merry, old chap, take my arm, and we'll be back soon." The Mole was still sniffling, begging, and reluctantly, being dragged all the way by his uncompromising companion. The Rat endeavored to revive him with a succession of gay talk and stories, and the arduous journey seemed to be shortened.When the Rat felt that the place where the Mole had been "kept" was almost at hand, he said, "Well, don't talk any more now. You must get down to business! Use your nose for something, and a snack." They walked a short distance in silence, when the Rat suddenly felt a slight electric shock pass through the Mole's whole body through his holding the Mole's arm.He immediately let go, took a step back, and waited intently. The message came. The Mole stood motionless for a moment.His raised nose flapped gently to smell the air. Then he ran forward a few quick steps... no... stopped... backed away; then walked forward slowly, without stopping, and with certainty. The Rat, excited, followed closely, while the Mole, a sort of sleepwalker, straddled a dry ditch, climbed a hedge, and sniffed his way across a trackless, bare field under dim starlight. Suddenly he sank down without warning; but the Rat, on the alert, followed him neatly down the tunnel, where the Mole's infallible nose faithfully led him. The tunnel was crowded and airless, and the smell of earth was so strong that the Rat felt that it took him a long time to walk to the end of the passage, so that he could stand up straight, stretch his legs and shake his body.The Mole struck a match.By its light the Rat saw them standing in a clearing, cleanly swept and sanded underfoot, facing them was the little front door of the Mole's house, with block paint on the bell-stay beside it. "Mole apartment" 3 characters. The Mole took a lantern from a nail in the wall, and lit it.The Rat looked around and saw that they were in what looked like a front yard.On one side of the door was a garden bench, and on the other side a roller, for the Mole was a tidy animal at home and would not tolerate other animals kicking his yard into piles of dirt.Baskets of ferns hung on the walls, and pedestals along the walls held plaster figures—Garibaldi, the Boy Samuel, Queen Victoria, and other heroes of modern Italy. There was a skittle alley on one side of the front yard, and along it was a row of benches and small wooden tables with circles that looked like beer mug marks.In the middle is a small circular pool with goldfish in it, and the edge of the pool is lined with cockle shells.A strange thing protruded from the center of the pool, studded with more cockle shells, and topped by a large silver glass globe, which reflected everything in distorted shapes, which was very interesting to watch. The Mole blushed brightly at the sight of all these things which were so dear to him.He urged the Rat in, lit a lamp in the hall, and looked around his old home.He saw that everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, he saw how desolate and dilapidated the house that had not been taken care of for a long time, saw how small its area was, and how dilapidated the things inside—he was paralyzed again Sitting on a chair in the hall, with two paws to his nose. "Oh, Rat!" he cried sadly. "Why would I do that? Why would I bring you into this cold, poor little place? It's so late when you should be on the river bank, roasting your toes in front of a roaring fire, eating All your goodies!" The Rat ignored his sad, self-reproaching words.He ran to and fro, opening doors, inspecting rooms and cupboards, lighting lamps and candles, and hanging them up here and there. "What a marvelous little house it is!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "So compact! So well arranged! It has everything, and everything is in place! We can live happily here." It's been a night. The first thing we're going to do is have a good life; let me do it--I always know where to find something. Oh, this is the living room? It's so beautiful! Those naps by the wall Did you come up with your own idea? Great! Well, I'll get the wood and coal, and you get a feather duster, mole...you can find one in the drawer of the kitchen table...try to get everything Get tidy. Get your hands on it, old man!" As soon as the Mole had cheered up his encouraging companion, he rose to dust and wipe vigorously, while the Rat ran about with his armfuls of logs and coals, and soon the merry flames were roaring Go up the chimney.He called the Mole to come and get warm, but the Mole immediately became sullen again, and sank down on a couch in desperation, burying his face in his feather duster. "Rat," he lamented, "what will you do with your supper, you hungry, poor, tired Rat? I have nothing for you... nothing... not even a bun!" "What a discouraging fellow you are!" said the Rat reproachfully. "Well, I just saw a sardine-knife on the kitchen cabinet, clearly; There are sardines nearby. Brace yourselves! Brace yourself and come find something to eat with me." They searched for food at the same time, in every cupboard, and opened all the drawers.It turned out not to be a disappointment, and naturally hoped for better; they found a tin of sardines...a box of biscuits, almost full...a bratwurst wrapped in silver paper. "There's a feast for you!" said the Rat, as he set the table. "I know there will be animals who will do anything to sit down with us to-day's supper!" "No bread!" moaned the Mole sadly. "No butter, no..." "No foie gras, no champagne!" continued the Rat, grinning. "That reminds me—where does that little door at the end of the passage lead? To your basement, of course! That's where all the good stuff in this house is! Wait a minute." He went down into the basement and came back in a second, a little gray with a bottle of beer in each paw and two more in both armpits. "You look like a beggar with a golden bowl, Mole," said he, "you needn't be more polite. It's the happiest cottage I've ever been in. Well, where did you get you?" Those pictures? They make this place look like a home. No wonder you like it so much, Mole. Tell me all about it, how did you get it the way it is?" Then, while the Rat was busy carrying plates, knives and forks, and mixing mustard in eggcups, the Mole—his chest still heaving with the tension—began to narrate—first A little embarrassed, but the topic excited him, and the more he talked about it, the more comfortable he was—how did this one come up, how did that come up, how did this happen to come from an aunt, and that was another great discovery, Cheap goods, while others were bought with hard-earned savings, try to "save as much as you can".At last his spirits were fully recovered, and he was obliged to touch his things, hold a lamp, and boast of their virtues to his visitors, and go on talking about everything, even giving them the supper, which they both so badly needed. Forgot; the Rat was famished, but trying to keep his face from showing, he nodded solemnly, looked carefully with a frown, and occasionally said "very good" and "great" when he was asked to make an opinion. . At last the Rat led the Mole back to the table.Just as he was digging into the can of sardines, he heard voices outside in the front yard—little feet shuffling over pebbles, and faint murmurs, broken sentences reaching them. "Okay, all stand in a row... Raise your lantern a little, Tommy... Clear your throat first... I say one, two, three and don't cough again... Where's Little Bill...? On Come here, come on, we're all waiting..." "What's the matter?" asked the Rat, stopping his hands. "I think it must be the field-mouse," replied the Mole, somewhat triumphantly. "They always go about singing carols at this time of year. They're quite famous around here. They never miss me." . . . come to my mole-lodge at the end; I always give them something hot to drink, and sometimes I can afford it, and give them supper. Listening to them sing, it's like being in the old days." "Let's see them!" cried the Rat, jumping up and running for the door. As soon as they opened the door, what they saw was a beautiful scene, a festive scene.In the front yard, lit by the dim light of a corner lamp, eight or ten small voles stand in a semicircle, red woolen scarves around their necks, their front paws deep in their In the pocket, feet hopped up and down to keep warm. They looked at each other shyly with their bright eyes like beads, secretly laughed, sniffed and wiped their noses with their sleeves. As soon as the door was opened, a big field-mouse with a lantern said, "Well, one, two, three!" And their shrill voices rose in the air, and sang an old carol that their ancestors wrote down in the frozen fallow, or snowbound by the hearth, To stand in the muddy street and sing to the lighted windows at Christmas. christmas carols fellow countrymen, It's so cold for the holidays, Please keep your doors open, Although the wind and snow will follow into the house, Or let's get closer to the fireplace. You will be happy in the morning! We stand in the rain and snow, it's cold, huh fingers, kick your feet all the way, We greet you all, from afar, And you at the hearth, We are on the street. I wish you a happy morning! By the time the night was half over, Suddenly a star leads us away. God's grace and happiness poured down from heaven, happy tomorrow, The day after tomorrow...the days are countless. Every morning will be joyful! Righteous Joseph trudged on through the snow, See the star hanging low over the stable; Mary can stop running forward, How nice, thatched roof, There's hay down there! She will be happy in the morning! Then they heard the angels say: "Who says Happy Christmas first? It was the animals in the stables, They were already living in it! They will be happy in the morning! " The singing stopped, the singers smiled shyly and turned to look at each other, and there was silence—but only for a blink.Then from above and beyond, from the tunnel they had just walked through, came a faint humming music--the merry tinkling of distant bells. "Brilliantly sung, boys!" exclaimed the Rat fervently. "Come in now, all of you, and keep yourself warm by the fire, and have something warm to drink!" "Yes, come in, Field Mouse," cried the Mole kindly, "it's like the old days! Come in and close the door.Pull the high chair over to the fire.Well, wait a minute, let's... oh, Rat! He cried out in disappointment, and sat down on a chair, tears were about to fall. "What shall we do? We have nothing to entertain them!" "Leave these things to me," said the Master Rat. "Come on, you with the lantern! Come this way. I want to speak to you. Well, tell me, is there any shop open at this time of night?" "Well, of course, sir," replied the field mouse respectfully. "At this time of year, our shops are open 24 hours a day." "Then listen to me!" said the Rat. "Go and get me your lantern at once..." They chattered for a while, and the Mole only heard a few bits and pieces: "Fresh, remember! . . . No, a pound is enough . . . , as long as the best... If you can't buy it there, you can ask elsewhere... Yes, of course it must be freshly made, not canned... Well, do your best!" At last a coin fell from one paw into the other with a clatter, and the Field Mouse hurried away with a large basket and his lantern to do his shopping. The other voles sat in a row on the high-backed chair, dangling their thin legs, enjoying the fire to the fullest, and roasting their chilblains until they felt a little tingly; If successful, ask about their family history and ask them to recite the names of their many younger brothers one by one. These younger brothers seem to be too young to let them come out to sing carols this year, but they hope to get their parents' permission to come out soon. At this moment the Rat was busy checking the brand on a bottle of beer. "I found out it's Old Burton," he praised, "clever mole! It's a real good wine! Now we can add sugar and spices, and blanch it for a rum! Get things ready, Mole , I'll uncork the bottle." It didn't take much work to get the wine mixed, and the tin jug was placed in the red heart of the fire; soon every field mouse was sipping, coughing, and choking (for a little hot rum has a lot of stamina ), wiped his eyes, and laughed, forgetting that he had been cold in his life. "These little fellows can act," explained the Mole to the Rat, "and they all make up their own plays. They're not bad at all! They gave us a croaking play last year about a field-mouse killed at sea." The pirates caught him and forced him to row a boat. When he escaped and returned home, his sweetheart had become a nun. Yes, it was you! I remember you also participated in the performance. Stand up and recite two paragraphs." The field mouse called by him He stood up, giggled sheepishly, looked around the house, but kept his mouth tightly shut.His mate told him to back him, the Mole coaxed and encouraged him, the Rat even grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him;They were all busy with him, like a boatman rescuing a long-drowned man, when the latch clicked, the door opened, and the field-mouse reappeared with the lantern, and the basket was so heavy that he wobbled as he walked. As soon as the real things in the basket were dumped on the table, there was no longer any talk of acting. Under the command of the Rat, all were assigned to do something, or to carry something.In a few minutes, supper was ready, and the Mole sat at the head of the table as if in a dream, seeing the delicious food on the table which was empty just now, and seeing his little friends eat without delay, and their faces were flushed; Then he allowed himself to eat—for he was so hungry—the conjured food, and thought how happy it was to be home this time.They ate and talked about old times, and the voles told him the latest local news and tried to answer the hundreds of questions he couldn't help asking.The Rat hardly spoke, but was only concerned with making each guest eat as much as he wanted, and taking care of him so that the Mole was not troubled about anything. The guests finally thanked each other a thousand times, and said a series of holiday congratulations, stuffed their jacket pockets with things for the little brothers and sisters at home, and left with a croak. When the last one had gone out and shut the door, and the tinkling of the lantern died away, the Mole and the Rat stoked the fire, drew their chairs closer together, boiled up the rum, drank another glass before going to bed, and began to talk about the long day. all kinds of things. At last the Rat yawned enormously, and said, "Mole, old chap, I'm ready to fall. Talking about sleepiness isn't enough. Is your bed over there? Well, I'll sleep in this one. It's What a nice little house! Everything is so convenient!" The weary Mole was more than happy to go to bed, too, and happily and contentedly let his head rest on his pillow.But before he closed his eyes, he let them look around his old room again, which was so rich in the firelight.The firelight illuminated all kinds of familiar and friendly things, which had already become part of him without knowing it, and now greeted him with a smile without complaint. He was now in the frame of the mood which the witty Rat had quietly brought to him.He saw clearly how ordinary and simple it all was--how small even; but he also saw clearly how much it meant to him, having a special value like an anchorage in one's being.He did not want to give up his new life and its glorious prospects, to abandon the sun and the air and all they gave him, and crawl home and stay here forever; the world above is too powerful, even here below, it is still Calling him, he knew he had to go back to the bigger event dance party, but it was nice to think of having this place to come back to, a place all his own, these things were so happy to see him again, if only he came back , can always be expected to welcome him in the same way.