SUMMER DAYS 



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passed them. I made jumps at the butterflies, and 

 got stung by an angry bee, and T never want to 

 feel that pain again ; and I listened day and night 

 to the birds, to the plovers calling over the fallows, 

 to the larks up in the blue, and most of all to the 

 merry sedge-warblers chattering away all through 

 the night in the osiers by the stream, for a rat loves 

 good music. But all the time I was never quite full 

 of the right sort of food, and I felt that the world, 

 with all its music and youth and happiness, was not 

 yet quite an ideal place for a hungry young rat. 



And then July came, and everybody began to 

 shout, ' This way to the corn-fields !' Old birds, 

 with their young families just able to fly, chirped 

 the glad tidings as they passed over my head ; 

 clucking partridges, with their big broods of merry 

 boys and girls, echoed the message as they ran past 

 my door ; the family of rabbits in the bank packed 

 up their baggage and ordered a fly ; and the grass 

 was alive with mice of all sorts, with their little 

 noses turned in the same direction. So I thought 

 that it must be time for me to join in the general 

 exodus, and, after a good sleep, I bade adieu to 

 the burrow under the haystack which had sheltered 

 me so long and so safely, and on a dazzling summer 

 morning I started off on my travels. It was really 



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