The Prophet and the two kids set off across this earth, which was
named by the inhabitants "the Common." In the distance rose a fringe of
detached brick and stone villas towards which Capricornus now pointed a
forefinger that trembled with pride.
"That's where we live," he said, in a voice that was grown squeaky from
conceit.
"Dulce domus," piped his sister, clutching the skirt of the Prophet's
coat, and, thus supported, performing several very elaborate dancing
steps upon the clayey soil over which he was feebly staggering. "Dulce
dulce, dulce domus. Look at that rat, Corney!"
A large, raking rodent, indeed, at that instant emerged from the
wreckage of what had once been a copper cauldron near by, and walked
slowly away towards a slope of dust garnished with broken bottles and
abandoned cabbage stalks. The Prophet shuddered and longed to flee, but
the two kids, as if divining his thought, now clasped his hands and led
him firmly forward to a yellow villa, fringed with white Bath stone
and garnished plentifully with griffins. From its flat front shot
ostentatiously forth a porch adorned with Roman columns which commanded
a near view of the Mouse, and before the porch was a small garden in
which several healthy-looking nettles had made their home.
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