Name the book: After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working. Weasels — and stoats — and foxes — and so on. Theyre all right in a way — Im very good friends with them — pass the time of day when we meet, and all that — but they break out sometimes, theres no denying it, and then — well, you cant really trust them, and thats the fact. Glorious, stirring sight! The poetry of motion! The real way to travel! The only way to travel! Here today — in next week tomorrow! Villages skipped, towns and cities jumped — always somebody else’s horizon! O bliss! O poop-poop! O my! O my! I see you dont understand, and I must explain it to you. Well, very long ago, on the spot where the Wild Wood waves now, before ever it had planted itself and grown up to what it now is, there was a city — a city of people, you know. Here, where we are standing, they lived, and walked, and talked, and slept, and carried on their business. Here they stabled their horses and feasted, from here they rode out to fight or drove out to trade. They were a powerful people, and rich, and great builders. They built to last, for they thought their city would last for ever.
Posted on: Thu, 16 Oct 2014 14:00:00 +0000
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