[Illustration]
A large rose tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the
roses on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it,
busily painting them red. This Alice thought a very curious
thing, and she went near to watch them, and just as she came up
she heard one of them say "look out, Five! Don't go splashing
paint over me like that!"
"I couldn't help it," said Five in a sulky tone, "Seven jogged my
elbow."
On which Seven lifted up his head and said "that's right, Five!
Always lay the blame on others!"
"You'd better not talk!" said Five, "I heard the Queen say only
yesterday she thought of having you beheaded!"
"What for?" said the one who had spoken first.
"That's not your business, Two!" said Seven.
"Yes, it is his business!" said Five, "and I'll tell him: it was
for bringing in tulip-roots to the cook instead of potatoes."
Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun "well! Of all the
unjust things--" when his eye fell upon Alice, and he stopped
suddenly; the others looked round, and all of them took off their
hats and bowed low.
"Would you tell me, please," said Alice timidly, "why you are
painting those roses?"
Five and Seven looked at Two, but said nothing: Two began, in a
low voice, "why, Miss, the fact is, this ought to have been a red
rose tree, and we put a white one in by mistake, and if the Queen
was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off. So, you
see, we're doing our best, before she comes, to--" At this moment
Five, who had been looking anxiously across the garden called out
"the Queen! the Queen!" and the three gardeners instantly threw
themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many
footsteps, and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen.
First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped
like the three gardeners, flat and oblong, with their hands and
feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were all
ornamented with diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers
did. After these came the Royal children: there were ten of them,
and the little dears came jumping merrily along, hand in hand, in
couples: they were all ornamented with hearts. Next came the
guests, mostly kings and queens, among whom Alice recognised the
white rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling
at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her.
Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King's crown on a
cushion, and, last of all this grand procession, came THE KING
AND QUEEN OF HEARTS.
[Illustration]
When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and
looked at her, and the Queen said severely "who is this?" She
said it to the Knave of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in
reply.
"Idiot!" said the Queen, turning up her nose, and asked Alice
"what's your name?"
"My name is Alice, so please your Majesty," said Alice boldly,
for she thought to herself "why, they're only a pack of cards! I
needn't be afraid of them!"
"Who are these?" said the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners
lying round the rose tree, for, as they were lying on their
faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of
the pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or
soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children.
"How should I know?" said Alice, surprised at her own courage,
"it's no business of mine."
The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for
a minute, began in a voice of thunder "off with her--"
"Nonsense!" said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen
was silent.
The King laid his hand upon her arm, and said timidly "remember,
my dear! She is only a child!"
The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave
"turn them over!"
The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot.
"Get up!" said the Queen, in a shrill loud voice, and the three
gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the
Queen, the Royal children, and everybody else.
"Leave off that!" screamed the Queen, "you make me giddy." And
then, turning to the rose tree, she went on "what have you been
doing here?"
"May it please your Majesty," said Two very humbly, going down on
one knee as he spoke, "we were trying--"
"I see!" said the Queen, who had meantime been examining the
roses, "off with their heads!" and the procession moved on, three
of the soldiers remaining behind to execute the three unfortunate
gardeners, who ran to Alice for protection.
"You sha'n't be beheaded!" said Alice, and she put them into her
pocket: the three soldiers marched once round her, looking for
them, and then quietly marched off after the others.
"Are their heads off?" shouted the Queen.
"Their heads are gone," the soldiers shouted in reply, "if it
please your Majesty!"
"That's right!" shouted the Queen, "can you play croquet?"
The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question
was evidently meant for her.
"Yes!" shouted Alice at the top of her voice.
"Come on then!" roared the Queen, and Alice joined the
procession, wondering very much what would happen next.
"It's--it's a very fine day!" said a timid little voice: she was
walking by the white rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her
face.
"Very," said Alice, "where's the Marchioness?"
"Hush, hush!" said the rabbit in a low voice, "she'll hear you.
The Queen's the Marchioness: didn't you know that?"
"No, I didn't," said Alice, "what of?"
"Queen of Hearts," said the rabbit in a whisper, putting its
mouth close to her ear, "and Marchioness of Mock Turtles."
"What are they?" said Alice, but there was no time for the
answer, for they had reached the croquet-ground, and the game
began instantly.
Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in
all her life: it was all in ridges and furrows: the croquet-balls
were live hedgehogs, the mallets live ostriches, and the soldiers
had to double themselves up, and stand on their feet and hands,
to make the arches.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The chief difficulty which Alice found at first was to manage her
ostrich: she got its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under
her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she
had got its neck straightened out nicely, and was going to give a
blow with its head, it would twist itself round, and look up into
her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help
bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and
was going to begin again, it was very confusing to find that the
hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling
away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or a furrow
in her way, wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and as
the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to
other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the conclusion
that it was a very difficult game indeed.
The players all played at once without waiting for turns, and
quarrelled all the while at the tops of their voices, and in a
very few minutes the Queen was in a furious passion, and went
stamping about and shouting "off with his head!" of "off with her
head!" about once in a minute. All those whom she sentenced were
taken into custody by the soldiers, who of course had to leave
off being arches to do this, so that, by the end of half an hour
or so, there were no arches left, and all the players, except the
King, the Queen, and Alice, were in custody, and under sentence
of execution.
Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice
"have you seen the Mock Turtle?"
"No," said Alice, "I don't even know what a Mock Turtle is."
"Come on then," said the Queen, "and it shall tell you its
history."
As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low
voice, to the company generally, "you are all pardoned."
"Come, that's a good thing!" thought Alice, who had felt quite
grieved at the number of executions which the Queen had ordered.
[Illustration]
They very soon came upon a Gryphon, which lay fast asleep in the
sun: (if you don't know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture):
"Up, lazy thing!" said the Queen, "and take this young lady to
see the Mock Turtle, and to hear its history. I must go back and
see after some executions I ordered," and she walked off, leaving
Alice with the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of the
creature, but on the whole she thought it quite as safe to stay
as to go after that savage Queen: so she waited.
The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen
till she was out of sight: then it chuckled. "What fun!" said the
Gryphon, half to itself, half to Alice.
"What is the fun?" said Alice.
"Why, she," said the Gryphon; "it's all her fancy, that: they
never executes nobody, you know: come on!"
"Everybody says 'come on!' here," thought Alice as she walked
slowly after the Gryphon; "I never was ordered about so before in
all my life--never!"
They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the
distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and,
as they came nearer, Alice could here it sighing as if its heart
would break. She pitied it deeply: "what is its sorrow?" she
asked the Gryphon, and the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the
same words as before, "it's all its fancy, that: it hasn't got no
sorrow, you know: come on!"
[Illustration]
So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large
eyes full of tears, but said nothing.
"This here young lady" said the Gryphon, "wants for to know your
history, she do."
"I'll tell it," said the Mock Turtle, in a deep hollow tone, "sit
down, and don't speak till I've finished."
So they sat down, and no one spoke for some minutes: Alice
thought to herself "I don't see how it can ever finish, if it
doesn't begin," but she waited patiently.
"Once," said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, "I was a
real Turtle."
These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by
an occasional exclamation of "hjckrrh!" from the Gryphon, and the
constant heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly
getting up and saying, "thank you, sir, for your interesting
story," but she could not help thinking there must be more to
come, so she sat still and said nothing.
"When we were little," the Mock Turtle went on, more calmly,
though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in
the sea. The master was an old Turtle--we used to call him
Tortoise--"
"Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?" asked Alice.
"We called him Tortoise because he taught us," said the Mock
Turtle angrily, "really you are very dull!"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple
question," added the Gryphon, and then they both sat silent and
looked at poor Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth: at
last the Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle, "get on, old fellow!
Don't be all day!" and the Mock Turtle went on in these words:
"You may not have lived much under the sea--" ("I haven't," said
Alice,) "and perhaps you were never even introduced to a
lobster--" (Alice began to say "I once tasted--" but hastily
checked herself, and said "no, never," instead,) "so you can have
no idea what a delightful thing a Lobster Quadrille is!"
"No, indeed," said Alice, "what sort of a thing is it?"
"Why," said the Gryphon, "you form into a line along the sea
shore--"
"Two lines!" cried the Mock Turtle, "seals, turtles, salmon, and
so on--advance twice--"
"Each with a lobster as partner!" cried the Gryphon.
[Illustration]
"Of course," the Mock Turtle said, "advance twice, set to
partners--"
"Change lobsters, and retire in same order--" interrupted the
Gryphon.
"Then, you know," continued the Mock Turtle, "you throw the--"
"The lobsters!" shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air.
"As far out to sea as you can--"
"Swim after them!" screamed the Gryphon.
"Turn a somersault in the sea!" cried the Mock Turtle, capering
wildly about.
"Change lobsters again!" yelled the Gryphon at the top of its
voice, "and then--"
"That's all," said the Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping its voice,
and the two creatures, who had been jumping about like mad things
all this time, sat down again very sadly and quietly, and looked
at Alice.
"It must be a very pretty dance," said Alice timidly.
"Would you like to see a little of it?" said the Mock Turtle.
"Very much indeed," said Alice.
"Come, let's try the first figure!" said the Mock Turtle to the
Gryphon, "we can do it without lobsters, you know. Which shall
sing?"
"Oh! you sing!" said the Gryphon, "I've forgotten the words."
[Illustration]
So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now
and then treading on her toes when they came too close, and
waving their fore-paws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle
sang, slowly and sadly, these words:
"Beneath the waters of the sea
Are lobsters thick as thick can be--
They love to dance with you and me,
My own, my gentle Salmon!"
The Gryphon joined in singing the chorus, which was:
"Salmon come up! Salmon go down!
Salmon come twist your tail around!
Of all the fishes of the sea
There's none so good as Salmon!"
"Thank you," said Alice, feeling very glad that the figure was
over.
"Shall we try the second figure?" said the Gryphon, "or would you
prefer a song?"
"Oh, a song, please!" Alice replied, so eagerly, that the Gryphon
said, in a rather offended tone, "hm! no accounting for tastes!
Sing her 'Mock Turtle Soup', will you, old fellow!"
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes
choked with sobs, to sing this:
"Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Beau--ootiful Soo--oop!
Beau--ootiful Soo--oop!
Soo--oop of the e--e--evening,
Beautiful beautiful Soup!
"Chorus again!" cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just
begun to repeat it, when a cry of "the trial's beginning!" was
heard in the distance.
"Come on!" cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, he
hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.
"What trial is it?" panted Alice as she ran, but the Gryphon only
answered "come on!" and ran the faster, and more and more faintly
came, borne on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy
words:
"Soo--oop of the e--e--evening,
Beautiful beautiful Soup!"
The King and Queen were seated on their throne when they arrived,
with a great crowd assembled around them: the Knave was in
custody: and before the King stood the white rabbit, with a
trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other.
"Herald! read the accusation!" said the King.
On this the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and
then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:
[Illustration]
"The Queen of Hearts she made some tarts
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!"
[Illustration]
"Now for the evidence," said the King, "and then the sentence."
"No!" said the Queen, "first the sentence, and then the
evidence!"
"Nonsense!" cried Alice, so loudly that everybody jumped, "the
idea of having the sentence first!"
"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen.
"I won't!" said Alice, "you're nothing but a pack of cards! Who
cares for you?"
At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down
upon her: she gave a little scream of fright, and tried to beat
them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in
the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some leaves
that had fluttered down from the trees on to her face.
"Wake up! Alice dear!" said her sister, "what a nice long sleep
you've had!"
"Oh, I've had such a curious dream!" said Alice, and she told her
sister all her Adventures Under Ground, as you have read them,
and when she had finished, her sister kissed her and said "it was
a curious dream, dear, certainly! But now run in to your tea:
it's getting late."
So Alice ran off, thinking while she ran (as well she might) what
a wonderful dream it had been.
* * * * *
But her sister sat there some while longer, watching the setting
sun, and thinking of little Alice and her Adventures, till she
too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream:
She saw an ancient city, and a quiet river winding near it along
the plain, and up the stream went slowly gliding a boat with a
merry party of children on board--she could hear their voices and
laughter like music over the water--and among them was another
little Alice, who sat listening with bright eager eyes to a tale
that was being told, and she listened for the words of the tale,
and lo! it was the dream of her own little sister. So the boat
wound slowly along, beneath the bright summer-day, with its merry
crew and its music of voices and laughter, till it passed round
one of the many turnings of the stream, and she saw it no more.
Then she thought, (in a dream within the dream, as it were,) how
this same little Alice would, in the after-time, be herself a
grown woman: and how she would keep, through her riper years, the
simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would
gather around her other little children, and make their eyes
bright and eager with many a wonderful tale, perhaps even with
these very adventures of the little Alice of long-ago: and how
she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure
in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the
happy summer days.
[Illustration]
happy summer days.
THE END.
* * * * *
_POSTSCRIPT._
_The profits, if any, of this book will be given to Children's
Hospitals and Convalescent Homes for Sick Children; and the
accounts, down to June 30 in each year, will be published in the
St. James's Gazette, on the second Tuesday of the following
December._
_P.P.S.--The thought, so prettily expressed by the little boy, is
also to be found in Longfellow's "Hiawatha," where he appeals to
those who believe_
"_That the feeble hands and helpless,_
_Groping blindly in the darkness_,
_Touch_ GOD'S _right hand in that darkness_,
_And are lifted up and strengthened_."
* * * * *
"Who will Riddle me the How and the Why?"
_So questions one of England's sweetest singers. The "How?" has
already been told, after a fashion, in the verses prefixed to
"Alice in Wonderland"; and some other memories of that happy
summer day are set down, for those who care to see them, in this
little book--the germ that was to grow into the published volume.
But the "Why?" cannot, and need not, be put into words. Those for
whom a child's mind is a sealed book, and who see no divinity in
a child's smile, would read such words in vain: while for any one
that has ever loved one true child, no words are needed. For he
will have known the awe that falls on one in the presence of a
spirit fresh from_ GOD'S _hands, on whom no shadow of sin, and
but the outermost fringe of the shadow of sorrow, has yet fallen:
he will have felt the bitter contrast between the haunting
selfishness that spoils his best deeds and the life that is but
an overflowing love--for I think a child's_ first _attitude to
the world is a simple love for all living things: and he will
have learned that the best work a man can do is when he works for
love's sake only, with no thought of name, or gain, or earthly
reward. No deed of ours, I suppose, on this side the grave, is
really unselfish: yet if one can put forth all one's powers in a
task where nothing of reward is hoped for but a little child's
whispered thanks, and the airy touch of a little child's pure
lips, one seems to come somewhere near to this._
_There was no idea of publication in my mind when I wrote this
little book_: that _was wholly an afterthought, pressed on me by
the "perhaps too partial friends" who always have to bear the
blame when a writer rushes into print: and I can truly say that
no praise of theirs has ever given me one hundredth part of the
pleasure it has been to think of the sick children in hospitals
(where it has been a delight to me to send copies) forgetting,
for a few bright hours, their pain and weariness--perhaps
thinking lovingly of the unknown writer of the tale--perhaps even
putting up a childish prayer (and oh, how much it needs!) for one
who can but dimly hope to stand, some day, not quite out of sight
of those pure young faces, before the great white throne. "I am
very sure," writes a lady-visitor at a Home for Sick Children,
"that there will be many loving earnest prayers for you on Easter
morning from the children._"
_I would like to quote further from her letters, as embodying a
suggestion that may perhaps thus come to the notice of some one
able and willing to carry it out._
"_I want you to send me one of your Easter Greetings for a very
dear child who is dying at our Home. She is just fading away, and
'Alice' has brightened some of the weary hours in her illness,
and I know that letter would be such a delight to her--especially
if you would put 'Minnie' at the top, and she could know you had
sent it for her._ She _knows_ you, _and would so value it.... She
suffers so much that I long for what I know would so please her."
... "Thank you very much for sending me the letter, and for
writing Minnie's name.... I am quite sure that all these children
will say a loving prayer for the 'Alice-man' on Easter Day: and I
am sure the letter will help the little ones to the real Easter
joy. How I do wish that you, who have won the hearts and
confidence of so many children, would do for them what is so very
near my heart, and yet what no one will do, viz. write a book for
children about_ GOD _and themselves, which is_ not _goody, and
which begins at the right end, about religion, to make them see
what it really is. I get quite miserable very often over the
children I come across: hardly any of them have an idea of_
really _knowing that_ GOD _loves them, or of loving and confiding
in Him. They will love and trust_ me, _and be sure that I want
them to be happy, and will not let them suffer more than is
necessary: but as for going to Him in the same way, they would
never think of it. They are dreadfully afraid of Him, if they
think of Him at all, which they generally only do when they have
been naughty, and they look on all connected with Him as very
grave and dull: and, when they are full of fun and thoroughly
happy, I am sure they unconsciously hope He is not looking. I am
sure I don't wonder they think of Him in this way, for people_
never _talk of Him in connection with what makes their little
lives the brightest. If they are naughty, people put on solemn
faces, and say He is very angry or shocked, or something which
frightens them: and, for the rest, He is talked about only in a
way that makes them think of church and having to be quiet. As
for being taught that all Joy and all Gladness and Brightness is
His Joy--that He is wearying for them to be happy, and is not
hard and stern, but always doing things to make their days
brighter, and caring for them so tenderly, and wanting them to
run to Him with_ all _their little joys and sorrows, they are
not taught that. I do so long to make them trust Him as they
trust us, to feel that He will 'take their part' as they do with
us in their little woes, and to go to Him in their plays and
enjoyments and not only when they say their prayers. I was quite
grateful to one little dot, a short time ago, who said to his
mother 'when I am in bed, I put out my hand to see if I can feel_
JESUS _and my angel. I thought perhaps_ in the dark _they'd touch
me, but they never have yet.' I do so want them to_ want _to go
to Him, and to feel how, if He is there, it_ must _be happy._"
_Let me add--for I feel I have drifted into far too serious a vein
for a preface to a fairy-tale--the deliciously naïve remark of a
very dear child-friend, whom I asked, after an acquaintance of two
or three days, if she had read 'Alice' and the 'Looking-Glass.' "Oh
yes," she replied readily, "I've read both of them! And I think"
(this more slowly and thoughtfully) "I think 'Through the
Looking-Glass' is_ more _stupid than 'Alice's Adventures.' Don't_
you _think so?" But this was a question I felt it would be hardly
discreet for me to enter upon._
_LEWIS CARROLL._
_Dec._ 1886.
* * * * *
AN EASTER GREETING
TO
EVERY CHILD WHO LOVES
"Alice."
DEAR CHILD,
_Please to fancy, if you can, that you are reading a real letter,
from a real friend whom you have seen, and whose voice you can
seem to yourself to hear wishing you, as I do now with all my
heart, a happy Easter._
_Do you know that delicious dreamy feeling when one first wakes
on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and
the fresh breeze coming in at the open window--when, lying lazily
with eyes half shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving,
or waters rippling in a golden light? It is a pleasure very near
to sadness, bringing tears to one's eyes like a beautiful picture
or poem. And is not that a Mother's gentle hand that undraws your
curtains, and a Mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise? To
rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that
frightened you so when all was dark--to rise and enjoy another
happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen Friend, who sends
you the beautiful sun_?
_Are these strange words from a writer of such tales as "Alice"?
And is this a strange letter to find in a book of nonsense? It
may be so. Some perhaps may blame me for thus mixing together
things grave and gay; others may smile and think it odd that any
one should speak of solemn things at all, except in church and on
a Sunday: but I think--nay, I am sure--that some children will
read this gently and lovingly, and in the spirit in which I have
written it._
_For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two
halves--to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it
out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a week-day. Do you
think He cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only
tones of prayer--and that He does not also love to see the lambs
leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the
children, as they roll among the hay? Surely their innocent
laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever
rolled up from the "dim religious light" of some solemn
cathedral?_
_And if I have written anything to add to those stores of
innocent and healthy amusement that are laid up in books for the
children I love so well, it is surely something I may hope to
look back upon without shame and sorrow (as how much of life must
then be recalled!) when_ my _turn comes to walk through the
valley of shadows._
_This Easter sun will rise on you, dear child, feeling your "life
in every limb," and eager to rush out into the fresh morning
air_--_and many an Easter-day will come and go, before it finds
you feeble and gray-headed, creeping wearily out to bask once
more in the sunlight--but it is good, even now, to think
sometimes of that great morning when the "Sun of Righteousness
shall arise with healing in his wings."_
_Surely your gladness need not be the less for the thought that
you will one day see a brighter dawn than this--when lovelier
sights will meet your eyes than any waving trees or rippling
waters--when angel-hands shall undraw your curtains, and sweeter
tones than ever loving Mother breathed shall wake you to a new
and glorious day--and when all the sadness, and the sin, that
darkened life on this little earth, shall be forgotten like the
dreams of a night that is past!_
_Your affectionate friend_,
_LEWIS CARROLL_.
EASTER, 1876.
* * * * *
CHRISTMAS GREETINGS.
[FROM A FAIRY TO A CHILD.]
Lady dear, if Fairies may
For a moment lay aside
Cunning tricks and elfish play,
'Tis at happy Christmas-tide.
We have heard the children say--
Gentle children, whom we love--
Long ago, on Christmas Day,
Came a message from above.
Still, as Christmas-tide comes round,
They remember it again--
Echo still the joyful sound
"Peace on earth, good-will to men!"
Yet the hearts must childlike be
Where such heavenly guests abide:
Unto children, in their glee,
All the year is Christmas-tide!
Thus, forgetting tricks and play
For a moment, Lady dear,
We would wish you, if we may,
Merry Christmas, glad New Year!
LEWIS CARROLL.
_Christmas, 1867._
* * * * *
WORKS BY LEWIS CARROLL.
PUBLISHED BY
MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.
ALICE'S ADVENTURES _IN_ WONDERLAND. With Forty-two Illustrations
by TENNIEL. (First published in 1865.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt
edges, price 6_s._ Seventy-eighth Thousand.
AVENTURES D'ALICE AU PAYS DES MERVEILLES. Traduit de l'Anglais
par Henri Bué. Ouvrage illustré de 42 Vignettes par JOHN TENNIEL.
(First published in 1869.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, price
6_s._
ALICE'S ABENTEUER IM WUNDERLAND. AUS DEM ENGLISCHEN, VON ANTONIE
ZIMMERMANN. MITT 42 ILLUSTRATIONEN VON JOHN TENNIEL. (First
published in 1869.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, price 6_s._
LE AVVENTURE D'ALICE NEL PAESE DELLE MERAVIGLIE. Tradotte dall'
Inglese da T. PIETROCÒLA-ROSSETTI. Con 42 Vignette di GIOVANNI
TENNIEL. (First published in 1872.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges,
price 6_s._
THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS AND WHAT ALICE FOUND THERE. With Fifty
Illustrations by TENNIEL. (First published in 1871.) Crown 8vo,
cloth, gilt edges, price 6_s._ Fifty sixth Thousand.
RHYME? AND REASON? With Sixty-five Illustrations by ARTHUR B.
FROST, and Nine by HENRY HOLIDAY. (This book, first published in
1883, is a reprint, with a few additions, of the comic portion of
"Phantasmagoria and other Poems," published in 1869, and of "The
Hunting of the Snark," published in 1876. Mr. Frost's pictures
are new.) Crown 8vo, cloth, coloured edges, price 6_s._ Fifth
Thousand.
* * * * *
WORKS BY LEWIS CARROLL.
PUBLISHED BY
MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.
A TANGLED TALE. Reprinted from _The Monthly Packet_. With Six
Illustrations by ARTHUR B. FROST. (First published in 1885.)
Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 4_s._ 6_d._ Third Thousand.
THE GAME OF LOGIC. (With an Envelope containing a card diagram
and nine counters--four red and five grey.) Crown 8vo, cloth,
price 3_s._
N.B.--The Envelope, etc., may be had separately at 3_d._ each.
ALICE'S ADVENTURES UNDER GROUND. Being a Facsimile of the
original MS. Book, afterwards developed into "Alice's Adventures
in Wonderland." With Thirty-seven Illustrations by the Author.
Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges. 4_s._
THE NURSERY ALICE. A selection of twenty of the pictures in
"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," enlarged and coloured under the
Artist's superintendence, with explanations. [_In preparation._
* * * * *
N.B. In selling the above-mentioned books to the Trade, Messrs.
Macmillan and Co. will abate 2_d._ in the shilling (no odd
copies), and allow 5 per cent. discount for payment within six
months, and 10 per cent. for cash. In selling them to the Public
(for cash only) they will allow 10 per cent. discount.
* * * * *
MR. LEWIS CARROLL, having been requested to allow "AN EASTER
GREETING" (a leaflet, addressed to children, first published in
1876, and frequently given with his books) to be sold separately,
has arranged with Messrs. Harrison, of 59, Pall Mall, who will
supply a single copy for 1_d._, or 12 for 9_d._, or 100 for 5_s._
* * * * *