and felt the boat sway lightly under him.

'Nice? It's the ONLY thing,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant
forward for his stroke. 'Believe me, my young friend, there is
NOTHING--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing
about in boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: 'messing--
about--in--boats; messing----'

'Look ahead, Rat!' cried the Mole suddenly.

It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer,
the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his
heels in the air.

'--about in boats--or WITH boats,' the Rat went on composedly, picking
himself up with a pleasant laugh. 'In or out of 'em, it doesn't
matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it.
Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your
destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never
get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in
particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to
do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not. Look
here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing
we drop down the river together, and have a long day of it?'

The Mole waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with
a sigh of full contentment, and leaned back blissfully into the soft
cushions. 'WHAT a day I'm having!' he said. 'Let us start at once!'

'Hold hard a minute, then!' said the Rat. He looped the painter