There Seemed To Be No End To

All Along The Backwater, Through The Rushes Tall, Ducks Are A-dabbling, Up Tails All!

It Seemed A Place Where Heroes Could Fitly Feast After Victory, Where Weary Harvesters Could Line Up In Scores Along The Table And Keep Their Harvest Home With Mirth And Song, Or Where Two Or Three Friends Of Simple Tastes Could Sit About As They Pleased And Eat And Smoke And Talk In Comfort And Contentment.

You Are Brave! For My Sake, Do Not Be Rash!

Monkeys Who Very Sensibly Refrain From Speech, Lest They Should Be Set To Earn Their Livings.

The Smell Of That Buttered Toast Simply Spoke To Toad, And With No Uncertain Voice; Talked Of Warm Kitchens, Of Breakfasts On Bright Frosty Mornings, Of Cozy Parlour Firesides On Winter Evenings, When One's Ramble Was Over And Slippered Feet Were Propped On The Fender; Of The Purring Of Contented Cats, And The Twitter Of Sleepy Canaries.