here am I, footsore and hungry, tramping away from it, tramping southward, following the old call, back to the old life, THE life which is mine and w… - Kenneth Grahame

Toad's ancestral home, won back by matchless valour, consummate strategy, and a proper handling of sticks.

They fell a-twittering among themselves once more, and this time their intoxicating babble was of violet seas, tawny sands, and lizard-haunted walls.

Once beyond the village, where the cottages ceased abruptly, on either side of the road they could smell through the darkness the friendly fields again; and they braced themselves for the last long stretch, the home stretch, the stretch that we know is bound to end, some time, in the rattle of the door-latch, the sudden firelight, and the sight of familiar things greeting us as long-absent travelers from far oversea.