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Tue, 28 Oct 2008


 MARIA MISSEL-THRUSH'S  TEA PARTY.

Bill was lying in the hay field one day, and the hedgehog sat besides him. They were talking about the seasons,and saying what they liked about each one.
"Spring," said the hedgehog, "is like spears. All the bulbs push sharp pointed leaves through the ground, till they look like little armies of spear-men."
"Summer," began Bill.  .  .  .  .  . 
"What do you mean by Summer?" said the hedgehog.
"June's quite different from July, and August to either."
"June," said Bill slowly, "June's got so many things, roses and strawberries, you don't know which way to turn. It's the nights I like, when there's a glow in the sky nearly all the time."
At this time a peal of laughter came from a tree near them.
"That's the Yaffle," said the hedgehog. "He's always laughing. That bird has got a funny sense of humour, he has no idea when and where to laugh. Go away," he called, and the Yaffle flew away still laughing heartily.
"July," said the hedgehog, "Is the month I like best. It's peaceful, the clouds look like white fishes, and lie quietly in the sky. The flowers look like altar candles, or tall tapers, mulleins, delphiniums and such things.  In August.   .   .   ."
"Yes," said Bill, "In August I like 'the day long murmuring wood pigeon.' "
"Who called them that?" said the hedgehog.
"My father says that Lamb called them that in an essay."
"I never knew a lamb that wrote," said the hedgehog scornfully. "I always think that lambs have so little sense."
"Bill knew for a fact that Charles Lamb had written this essay, and that the hedgehog didn't know what it was talking about - but he said nothing; which was very nice of Bill, as the hedgehog was apt to be very cocky about his opinions.
"August," the hedgehog began again, "is the month when everything is silent, the birds hardly sing, but the bees hum and the flowers smell extra good."
"Yes," said Bill "I love the smell of the phloxes and marigolds."
"September's nice, too,2 went on the hedgehog, "with the sounds of reaping and the corn in the fields and the fresh frosty mornings. And  so is October. The rest I know nothing about. continued at diddilydeedotsdreamland.zoomshare.com/
Posted 20:44

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