Chapter 9 Chapter 9 The Wanderer

The Rat was restless, and he was not sure why.From all perspectives, this is still a magnificent scene in midsummer. Although the green on the cultivated land has given way to golden yellow, although the rowan fruit is turning red, and there are pinches of yellowish brown here and there in the forest, the light, heat and color are still there. No reduction, no sign of a colder year at all.But the chorus that had been heard in the orchard and the bushes was gone, and only a few untired singers still sang their evening songs casually, and the robins began to express themselves again; there was always a change and a parting a feeling of.The cuckoo, of course, had long since ceased; but many other feathered friends, who had for months been a part of the familiar scene and its inhabitants, were gone too, and the number of birds seemed to be decreasing day by day.The Rat, who had been watching all the movements of the birds, saw them move southward every day, and even at night, lying in bed, thought he could hear the irresistible call of anxious wings, flying through the night above him, uttering Clap and flap.

Nature, the great hotel, has its seasons like other great hotels.As the guests one by one pack, pay, and leave, the chairs at the table are regrettably reduced with each meal; a suite room is locked, the carpet is rolled up, and the waiter is fired. At this time, it is time to stay until the second All the relocations and farewells, the lively discussions of travel plans, routes and new homes, the dwindling number of friends, the boarders watching all these relocations and farewells, will inevitably be affected.They can become restless, discouraged, and want to fight.Why such a desire for change?Why not just stay here quietly and live happily as we do?You don't know what the hotel looks like after the peak season, and you don't know how much fun it is for those of us who stayed to make the whole interesting year from the first day of the new year to the end of the 30th.That's right, there's no doubt that the others always answer: We envy you...maybe next year...but now we have a deal...the car is waiting at the door...we have to go!So they smiled, nodded and left, we missed them and were unhappy.The Rat was a self-sufficient animal, rooted in one place, and whoever went he stayed; but he could not help noticing the movement in the air, and feeling some of its effects on his innermost being.

With all these migrations going on, it's really hard to settle down properly.He turned away from the water's edge, and the brook slackened and became shallow, and was covered with thick and tall rushes; Drilling into the vast sea of ​​wheat, the wheat is yellow and clear, swinging around, murmuring, full of quiet micro-movements and soft whispers.He often likes to come and walk here, through tall and strong straw forests, above his head, all the way past their own golden sky-this sky is always beating, shining, and softly speaking , or shaken violently by the passing wind, shaken for a while and then laughed and returned to its original shape.Here he also has many children, who are a complete society in themselves, living full and busy lives, but often have time to chat with him, the visitor, and exchange news.But today, though they were very polite, the field-mouse and the stalk-dwelling field-mouse looked very busy.Many of the voles were busy digging and tunneling, and other small groups gathered to study the pattern of the small rooms, which would be conveniently situated near the storehouses, to be satisfactory and sturdy.Still some of them had pulled out dusty boxes and clothes baskets, others had reached into them to pack their things; on all sides were piles and bales of wheat, oats, barley, beech nuts, and Other nuts, piled there ready to be shipped.

"Here comes Brother Rat!" they cried when they saw him. "Come and help, Rat, and don't just stand there!" "What trick are you playing?" said the Rat gravely. "You know, it's not time to think about winter, it's early!" "Yes, we know that," said a field mouse with a shy face. "But it's always good to have a rainy day, isn't it? We'd really have to get all this furniture and luggage and things off before those horrible machines rattled over the surrounding fields; and you know, good houses these days They are taken up so quickly that by the time you are late you will have to live in any house; and it will take a lot of work to move into them. Of course, we also know we are early, but we are only at the beginning."

"Oh, nasty beginning," said the Rat. "It's a hell of a weather today. Come on, come and row a boat, or take a walk by the bushes, or have a picnic in the woods." "Well, I don't think I can today, thank you," replied the field mouse hastily. "Maybe another day...when we have more time..." The Rat snorted disapprovingly, turned to go, tripped over a hat-tray, fell down, and said something unseemly. "If you'd be more careful," said one of the field mice, very stiffly, "you'd keep your eyes on the road, and you wouldn't hurt yourself. . . . Forget yourself. Watch out for the bag on the floor, Rat! You'd better sit down somewhere. In an hour or two we may be a little free to be with you."

"I don't think you'll be 'free' as you say, it's almost Christmas," said the Rat angrily, and started out of the field. He went back, a little dejected, to his river—his faithful, flowing old river, which never packs up and goes away, or goes into a hole for the winter. On the willow tree by the river, he saw a swallow squatting.Soon a second came, and then a third; and the swallows were restless on their branches, conferring earnestly in low voices. "Why, are you leaving already?" said the Rat, walking up to them. "What's the rush? I say it's ridiculous."

"Oh, we're not going yet, if that's what you mean," said the First Swallow. "We're just planning and arranging things. You know, figuring things out first — which route to take this year, where to stop, etc. Half of it is for fun!" "Fun?" said the Rat. "That's exactly what I don't understand. If you must leave this lovely place, you who are going to miss your friends and the comfortable home you have just settled in, I have no doubt that, when the time comes, you will You will go out bravely, face all difficulties and hardships, changes and new things, and at the same time pretend that you don't feel sad. But you should not talk about it until you have to, or even think about it... ..."

"No, of course you won't understand," said the second swallow. "First we feel uneasy, a sweet uneasiness; then the memories come back one by one like doves returning home. They flap their wings in our dreams by night and fly with us by day.We are eager to question each other, to exchange opinions, to convince ourselves that it is all true, when gradually the scents, the sounds, the long-forgotten names of places - come back and beckon us. "Can't you stay here for a year this year?" said the Rat eagerly. "We'll do our best to make you feel at home."You can't imagine how happy we are here when you're gone. "

"I had intended to 'stay' for a year," said the third swallow. "I grew to like this place so much that when the time came to go, I hesitated and didn't leave, letting the other swallows fly away. The first few weeks were all right, but then, oh, how dreadfully long the night was." Ah! and those shivering sunless days! It was so wet and cold that there was not a worm anywhere! No, I was discouraged, and on a cold and stormy night I flew away, taking advantage of the strong The easterly wind flew inland. I passed those high mountain passes where the snow fell so hard that I struggled to fly over. I will never forget the pain as I looked towards the lake below me, so blue and so calm. How happy it was when I flew down, when the warm sun was on my back again, and how delicious it was to eat the first fat worm! The past is like a nightmare, and the future is a happy festival, I Flew south, week after week, brisk, languid, and lingering as many days as I dared, but I always heeded the call! No, I have learned my lesson; I shall never again want to violate it."

"Ah, that's right, the call from the South, from the South!" said the other two swallows, chirping dreamily. "Its song, its glorious sky! Oh, do you remember..." They forgot the Rat who was there, and drenched themselves in ardent remembrances, while the Rat was fascinated and his heart was burning. He also knew in his heart that his heartstrings had been standing still, and now they were finally vibrating.The mere twittering of these birds thinking only of the South, their faded indirect narratives was enough to awaken this feverish new feeling, to stimulate him again and again, then, to touch the real thing at once--to touch The real south warms the sun, smells the real fragrance, -- so what?For a moment he dreamed boldly with his eyes closed, and when he opened them again, the river looked bitterly cold and the green fields gray and dull.It seemed at this moment that his loyal heart would cry out against the weakness of his nature for treachery.

"Then why on earth are you back again?" he asked the swallows jealously. "What do you think is attractive to you in this poor, dreary little place?" "In another season, don't you think that another call is also directed at us?" said the first swallow. "The call comes from the lush grass of the prairie, the damp orchard, the warm pond full of worms, the grazing cattle, the turning hay, the evil circle of farmhouses around a house with perfect eaves." "You think ," The second swallow asked, "Are you the only creature longing to hear the cuckoo song again?" "It's time," Said the third swallow, "We shall be homesick again, and of the water lilies swaying on the waters of a brook in England. But all these look pale and thin today, and very far away. Now our The blood is throbbing with other music." They chattered to each other again, this time rapturously chattering about purple seas, deep yellow sands, and lizard-infested walls. Once again the Rat wandered off distractedly, climbed the gentle slope to the north of the river, and crouched down looking out over the hilly prairie that blocked his view from looking further south—his horizon, his moons, until then. Mountain, his limit, beyond this limit, he didn't want to see anything, and he didn't want to know anything.But today, a new longing had never existed in his heart, to look south, and the clear sky above the long, low outlines of the hills seemed to throb with a hope: to think today only of the unseen. , and the real meaning of life is only those things that don't know.On this side of the mountain there was now a real void, and on the other side there was a landscape of beauty and color, which his mind's eye seemed to have seen clearly.What a vast sea there, green, undulating, and towering with waves!What a sunny coast there, along which the white cottages glisten among the olive groves!What a quiet bay yonder, filled with luxurious ships bound for the purple-blue islands of wine and spices, islands set in the still sea! He got up and walked again towards the river; but then he changed his mind and went by the dusty road. There he lay deep in the cool bushes beside the road, from where he could contemplate the gravel road and the whole wonderful world it led to; travelers, and the lives of happiness and adventure they seek, or find without seeking. … There, over there... over there! He heard footsteps, and a figure weary from walking came into his eyes; he saw that it was a mouse, a mouse covered in dust. The traveler raised his hand in a somewhat foreign salute as he passed him... hesitated for a moment... then turned from the road, smiling happily, and sat down in the cool bushes beside him.He looked tired, and the Rat let him rest without asking him a word, understanding his mood, knowing that all animals value only the company of words sometimes, when the weary muscles relaxed and the heart ceased for a while. The traveler was thin and handsome, with slightly arched shoulders, slender paws, wrinkled eyes, and small gold earrings in his straight ears.His sweater was blue and faded, his trousers were also blue, patched and stained, and the little thing he carried with him was a blue cloth bag. After resting for a while, the alien mouse sighed, gasped for air, and looked around. "It's clover, and its warm scent is on the breeze," he said. "Those are cows, grazing behind us, snorting and munching. That was the sound of a harvester in the distance. There was the blue smoke of the farmhouse rising from the woods. There was a river running nearby, because I hear the hen crowing. I can see, too, that you are a river sailor from your appearance. Everything seems still, yet they are always moving. You have a good life, Friend; it's certainly the best life in the world, if you're strong enough to live it!" "Yes, such is life, and the only life worth living," replied the Rat dreamily, lacking his usual sincere conviction. "I don't quite mean that," replied the Outlander Mouse cautiously, "but it's certainly the best life. I've tried it, so I know it. Just because I've tried—this life 6 months later, - so I know it's the best. But look at me, my feet are sore and my stomach is hungry, but step by step I leave it, step by step south, follow the ancient call, go back to Go to the old life, that's my life, it won't let me go." "And you are one of them again?" the Rat mused. "Where did you just come from?" he asked.He dared not ask where he was going; he seemed to know the answer all too well. "A fine little farm," answered the traveler simply. "Over there," he nodded northward. "Don't mention it. I've got everything I want, I've got everything I have a right to want in life, and more than I can; and here I am! I'm still glad to be here, glad I am Here! So many miles on the road and so many hours closer to where I want to be!" His shining eyes were fixed on the horizon, and he seemed to be listening to some beckoning sound that did not exist in the interior, and this noise was different from the happy music of the pasture farm. "You're not one of us," said the Rat, "nor a farmer, and you're not even from this country, I think." "Exactly," answered the foreign mouse. "I'm a sea-mouse, and my original seaport was Constantinople, but I was a sea-mouse there, too, by the way. You must have heard of Constantinople, my friend? That's a beautiful and a splendid old city at that. You may have heard of Sigurd, King of Norway, how he sailed there with 60 ships, and how he and his entourage rode through the purple and gold sky how the Emperor and Empress boarded his ships to dine. When Sigurd returned home, many of the Norsemen he brought stayed and served as the Emperor's bodyguard, and my ancestors Born in Norway, and stayed with a ship that Sigurd gave to the Emperor. It is no wonder that we are sea-rats, and have sailed for a living; to me, from Constantine Any of the lovely harbors on the River from Fort to London are as much home as the city of my birth. I know them all, and they all know me. Stop at any one of the piers or beaches, and I'll be home again. gone." "I think you have sailed many seas," said the Rat, with increasing interest as he listened, "for months and months without sight of land, when food was scarce, and fresh water to be divided, and your heart and the mighty sea together, right?" "Not at all," said the Sea-rat frankly. "The life you describe is not at all to my liking. I trade along the coast, and rarely see land. Like all seafarers, I love being on the coast." Happy hour on board. Oh, those southern coasts! Their smell, and anchor lights at night, and that splendor!" "Well, perhaps you've chosen a better kind of work," said the Rat, though he was very skeptical. "Then tell me a little of your voyages on the coast, if you will, and a spirited mouse may hope to get something out of it to take home, to be warmed by the fireside in memory of those brave pasts later. What? As for my life, I confess to you that I feel a little cramped and confined today." "My last voyage," began the Sea-rat, "was at last landed in this country, full of desires to farm in the interior. This voyage may serve as a model for any voyage I have made, indeed, for my splendid life." The epitome of everything. As usual, everything is the beginning of family troubles. When the family storm, I boarded a small merchant ship from Constantinople, which floated some famous seas, and every wave called you For the rest of my life, the boat was going to the Greek Islands and the Levant. Some sunny days and warm nights! In and out of the bay all the time.. old friends everywhere.. hot days, sleep to some cool temples Or in an abandoned pool... After the sun goes down, feasting and singing under the giant stars embedded in the velvety sky! Then we turned around and anchored to the Adriatic coast, its shores are bathed in amber, rose and teal We moored in the wide land-bound harbour, we wandered through the grand old city, until at last one morning, as the sun rose majestically behind us, we sailed along the golden waterways into Venice. Oh , Venice is a beautiful city, where a mouse can wander for fun! Or, when you get tired of walking, you can sit on the banks of the Grand Canal and drink with your friends at night, when the air is full of music and the sky is full. There are stars, and the lights flicker on the polished steel-clad bows of the swaying gondolas. The gondolas are moored together one by one, and you can walk from one side of the canal to the other side of the canal on them! Food... do you like shellfish? Well, well, let's not talk about that now." He was silent for a while; and the Rat was silent too, fascinated, floating on dreamy canals, listening to imaginary songs ringing high among the gray walls lapped by imaginary waves. "We turned south again at last," went on the Sea-rat, "and sailed on along the coast of Italy, and came at last to Palermo, where I left the ship and spent a good time ashore. .I never stay too long in a boat; that would become narrow-minded and prejudiced. Besides, Sicily is one of my happiest hunting grounds.There I got to know all the people whose way of life was just what I wanted.I spent many weeks happily on this island, with my friends from the mainland.When my idleness was exhausted again, I boarded a boat bound for Sardinia and Corsica for business; and I was glad to feel the fresh breeze again, and the spray splashed in my face. " "But isn't it hot and stuffy in there, in that... cargo hold, I suppose you call it?" asked the Rat. The sea rat looked at him suspiciously and blinked once. "I'm an old crewman," he said flatly. "The captain's cabin is good enough for me." "It's a hard life, after all," mused the Sea Rat. "For sailors, yes," replied the Sea-rat solemnly, with a mysterious wink. "From Corsiga," he went on, "I took a ship that carried wine to the mainland. In the evening we came to Alassio, stopped the ship, and took out our casks and threw them into the water, They were tied together one by one with a long rope. Then the sailors got into the boat, and rowed to the shore, singing all the way, dragging the long chain of bouncing barrels behind them. Like a mile-long dolphin. Some horses were waiting on the beach, and they rattled and hauled the long line of casks up the steep streets of the town. When the last cask was delivered, we went to rest and drink with our friends, I sat till late at night; next morning I went to the great olive grove to rest. I was tired of the islands then, and harbors and sailing were enough, so I lived an idle life among the peasants, lying there watching them work, or stretching Lying on the edge of a high mountain with my limbs stretched out, the blue Mediterranean Sea unfolded far below me. Then I walked and took a boat to Marseille, France, and met the old man on the boat , Visiting the big ships going out to sea, eating and drinking again. Let’s talk about aquatic shellfish again! Really, sometimes I see oysters in Marseilles in my dreams, and I wake up crying!” "It reminds me," said the courteous Rat, "that you mentioned that you were hungry, and I should have asked that long ago. Surely you could stop and have lunch with me? My hole is far from It's not far from here, it's past noon now, you are welcome to go and have something to eat." "I say you're very kind, like a brother," said the Sea-rat, "and I was really hungry when I sat down, and I've had a terrible stomach ache ever since I casually talked about shellfish. But Can't you take your lunch out here? I'm not very happy to go down in the hold unless I have to; and while we're eating, I'll tell you more about my voyages and the happy life I led... ...At least it's a very pleasant thing for me, and I see you'd love to hear it too. Ninety-nine per cent of the time I'll be falling asleep right away if we go indoors." "That's a very good idea indeed," said the Rat, hurrying home.As soon as he got home, he took out the food basket and put some simple food in it.He remembered the origin and preferences of the field mice, and carefully placed in the food a yard-long baguette, a garlic-scented sausage, some tempting cheese, and a long-necked flask wrapped in hay. Contains fine wine stored on the southern slopes.When the food basket was loaded, he ran back as fast as he could.Together they opened the basket and took out the contents and put them on the grass by the road.The Rat blushed with delight when the old seaman spoke of his taste. But the sea-rat, when his hunger was a little less overtaken, proceeded to tell of his last voyage, which took his simple listener from port to port of Spain, and landed him at Lisbon, Porto, and Bordeaux, Lead him to the lovely seaports of Cornwall and Devon, up the channel to the last wharf.There he landed after a long period of head wind, rough sea, and bad weather, and there he received the first miraculous hint and forecast of another spring, and excited by it, he made long and short journeys inland. , longing to experience a quiet pastoral life away from the constant crash of any waves. Fascinated, trembling with excitement, the Rat followed the adventurer mile after mile, across stormy bays, through bustling streets, across fast-flowing sandbars, and up winding rivers. , take a sharp turn and see the busy town it hides.But at last the Rat left him with a sigh of regret, and let him settle down on his dull outback farm, about which the Rat wanted to hear nothing. By this time their meal was over, and the Sea-rat revived and strengthened, and his voice grew louder, and his eyes shone like a distant beacon.He poured the bright red wine of the South into his glass, and leaning over to the Rat, he forced his attention as he spoke, and controlled his body and mind.His eyes were the grey-green of the changing waves of the violent northern sea; in the glass shone a fiery ruby ​​that seemed to be the heart of the South, beating for his courage to share its pulse. These two lights, changing gray-green and constant ruby, controlled the Rat, imprisoned him, and made him freeze and helpless.The peaceful world beyond their light receded and ceased to exist.Li's voice, the wonderful words continued to rage--is it just a voice, or sometimes it turns into a song--the labor cry of the sailors when they hoisted the dripping anchor, and the left and right sides of the mast were violently The hum of the northeast wind, the fisherman's song of the fisherman pulling his net in the apricot sky when the sun goes down, the guitar and mandolin strings from the gondola or sailboat?Or has it become the cry of the wind, at first plaintive, then intensified into a howl, rising high to a shrill howl, falling low to the melodious rustle of the wind's blown skirts?The fascinated listener seems to hear all these sounds, along with the hungry cries of seagulls, the gentle boom of breaking waves, and the clatter of pebbles on the beach.These voices returned to speech, and his heart beat wildly, and he followed the sea-rat to a dozen sea-ports for adventures, fights, escapes, comebacks, friendships, heroic deeds; or he hunted for treasure on islands, Catch fish in the still lagoon and nap the day on the warm white sand.He heard tales of sudden danger, the noise of the surf in moonless nights, or the sudden appearance of the tall prows of great ships overhead in the mist; Lights; the crowd on the quay loomed, the merry shouts, the splash of the launching cables; the arduous walk up the steep side street to the comforting light behind the red curtains on the windows. Finally, in his daydreams, it seemed to him that the explorer had risen, but was still talking, still looking intently at him with his sea-gray eyes. "Well," he said softly, "I'm on my way again, and I'm going south, and I'm walking long and dusty days and days, till at last I come to the gray seaside town I know, in the On a steep slope in the harbour. Where, from the dark doorway, a flight of stone steps hangs great tufts of pink valerian, leading down to a shimmering blue sea. Chained to the ancient sea wall The boats on the hoops and posts were brightly painted, like the ones I climbed in and out of as a child; Day and night the ships float past the window, either toward their moorings, or out to sea, where morning and evening ships of all navigating nations come; I'll take it easy, I'll stay and wait, till at last the boat I'm about to have lays there waiting for me, tied mid-stream by the winch line, full of cargo and low , with its firstsprit facing the port. I'll go aboard in a skiff or along the thick cable, and wake up one morning to the songs and footsteps of the sailors, the clack of the capstan, and the joyful furling The rattle of the anchor chains of the anchor. We will hoist the jib and mast-sail, and as the ship sails, the white houses in the harbor will slowly drift by us, and the sailing begins! When the ship is very She'll cover the sails as she races toward the headland, and then once outside, the endless green sea slaps the boat, and the wind blows her on her side, heading south!" "And you, too, little brother; for the days go by and never turn back, and the South is still waiting for you. Take risks, follow the call, and the time will never come again! It's just going out Slam the door and just take a merry step forward and you're out of your old life and into a new one! And then one day, a long time to come, when the glass's gone and the show's over, you're happy If so, stroll back here, and sit by your quiet river, with a pile of good memories to keep you company. You can easily overtake me on the road, because you are young, and I am old, and I can walk Slowly. I must go slowly, and look back; at last I am sure to see you following, eager and cheerful, with only the desire to go south on your face!" The voice died down and died away, like the slight chirp of an insect that quickly died down into silence; the Rat watched blankly, and at last saw only a small point far away on the white road. He stood up mechanically, and carefully and unhurriedly put the things back into the food basket. He returned home mechanically, gathered some of his favorite gadgets and special treasures, and put them in a backpack; he was thinking slowly, walking up and down the room like a sleepwalker; Open your mouth and listen.Throwing his knapsack over his shoulder, he carefully selected a thick stick for the long walk, and crossed the threshold without haste, but without hesitation, when the Mole appeared at the door. "Why, where are you going, Rat?" asked the Mole, taking him by the arm, in great surprise. "Go south, go south with everyone." The Rat didn't even look at him, and murmured to himself as if talking in a dream. "Go to the beach first, then board the boat, and then go to the coast that is calling me!" He walked forward firmly, still calmly, but with a clear purpose. But the Mole, now terrified, stood in front of him, and looked into his eyes, and saw them shining, motionless, a shifting gray--it was not his friend. eyes, but the eyes of another animal!He grabbed him hard, dragged him back into the house, threw him on the ground, and held him down. For a moment the Rat struggled desperately, and then seemed to lose all strength, and lay motionless, exhausted, with his eyes shut, and trembling all over.Mole immediately helped him to his feet, and seated him in a chair.He sat there paralyzed, huddled in a ball, shaking violently, and soon began to cry hysterically.The Mole shut the door, threw the knapsack into a drawer and locked it, and sat quietly at the table beside his friend, waiting for the strange fit to pass.Gradually the Rat sank into an uneasy sleep, trembling and uttering indistinct words that were strange, jumbled, and unfamiliar to the ignorant Mole; and then the Rat fell into a deep sleep. The Mole was very anxious, and left him for a while, busying himself with his housework; and when he returned to the drawing-room, it was already dark, and he found the Rat in the same place where he had left him, wide awake, not moving or making a sound. ,dejected.The Mole took a quick look into his eyes, and was very pleased that they were clear again and dark brown again; and then the Mole sat down, intending to cheer him up, and to help him tell what had just happened to him. something happened. Poor Rat tried his best to explain things bit by bit, but how could he put it in cold words when it was mostly suggestive?How can the song of the sea that lingers in my heart be thought out to tell others, and how can the charm of hundreds of memories of the sea rat be reproduced?Even for himself, now that the spell was broken and the charm was gone, something that had seemed inevitable and the only thing a few hours ago, he found it difficult to say now.Not surprisingly, he had no way of explaining to the Mole what had happened to him that day. With the Mole it was clear that an attack, or an attack, had passed, and he recovered, though he remained reactive and dejected.He seemed now to lose all interest in the things of everyday life, in all the joys the days to come heralded, in the changes which the changing of the seasons necessarily brought. So the Mole turned the conversation on to other things with feigned indifference: the crops being harvested, the carts piled like straw and the horses pulling the carts, the growing haystacks rising above the sheaves of wheat.田地上空的庞大月亮。他讲到四周变红的苹果，讲到在变成棕色的榛子，讲到果酱、蜜饯和酿造甜酒；渐渐自然而然地谈到仲冬、这时候的乐事和在家里过的温暖生活，说到这里，他说得简直抒情极了。 河鼠也慢慢开始坐起来插话。他呆滞的眼睛渐渐亮堂起来，无精打采的神气好一点了。 巧妙的鼹鼠很快溜开，拿着一支铅笔和几张只有半张的纸回来，把它们放在桌子上，放在他朋友的胳臂时旁边。 “你有很久没写诗了，”他说。“你今天晚上可以试一下，这总比……对，比这样胡思乱想好得多。我认为你会觉得好一点的，只要你写下点什么……只要你押几个韵。” 河鼠厌烦地把纸推开，可是考虑周到的鼹鼠找了个借口离开房间。当他过了一会儿重新偷看的时候，河鼠已经专心致志，两耳不闻天下事，一会儿写，一会儿吮他的铅笔头。说实在的，他吮铅笔头比写字的时候多得多，不过鼹鼠高兴的是，他的药方到底开始见效了。