them, called out, "Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! _I'll_ soon
make you dry enough!" They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with
the Mouse in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it,
for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry
very soon.
"Ahem!" said the Mouse with an important air. "Are you all ready? This
is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! 'William
the Conqueror, whose cause was favored by the pope, was soon submitted
to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much
accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of
Mercia and Northumbria--'"
"Ugh!" said the Lory, with a shiver.
"I beg your pardon!" said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely. "Did
you speak?"
"Not I!" said the Lory, hastily.
"I thought you did," said the Mouse. "I proceed. 'Edwin and Morcar,
the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him; and even
Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it
advisable--'"
"Found _what_!" said the Duck.
"Found _it_," the Mouse replied, rather crossly: "of course you
know what 'it' means."
"I know what 'it' means well enough, when _I_ find a thing," said the
Duck; "it's generally a frog, or a worm. The question is, what did the
archbishop find?"
The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on,
"'--found it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and
offer him the crown. William's conduct at first was moderate. But the
insolence of his Normans--' How are you getting on now, my dear?" it
continued, turning to Alice as it spoke.
"As wet as ever," said Alice, in a melancholy tone: "it doesn't seem
to dry me at all."
"In that case," said the Dodo, solemnly, rising to its feet, "I move
that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic
remedies--"
"Speak English!" said Eaglet. "I don't know the meaning of half those
long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!" And the
Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds
tittered audibly.
"What I was going to say," said the Dodo in an offended tone, "was,
that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race."
"What _is_ a Caucus-race?" said Alice; not that she much wanted to
know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that _somebody_ ought
to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
"Why," said the Dodo, "the best way to explain it is to do it." (And,
as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will
tell you how the Dodo managed it.)
First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle ("the exact
shape doesn't matter," it said), and then all the party were placed
along the course, here and there.
There was no "One, two, three, and away!" but they began running when
they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to
know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half
an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out
"The race is over!" and they all crowded round it, panting, and
asking, "But who has won?"
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of
thought, and it stood for a long time with one finger pressed upon its
forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the
pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence.
At last the Dodo said, "_Everybody_ has won, and _all_ must have
prizes."
"But who is to give the prizes?" quite a chorus of voices asked.
"Why, _she_, of course," said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one
finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out, in
a confused way, "Prizes! Prizes!"
Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her
pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits (luckily the salt water had
not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly
one a-piece, all round.
"But she must have a prize herself, you know," said the Mouse.
"Of course," the Dodo replied very gravely. "What else have you got in
your pocket?" it went on, turning to Alice.
"Only a thimble," said Alice sadly.
"Hand it over here," said the Dodo.
Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly
presented the thimble, saying:
"We beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble"; and, when it had
finished this short speech, they all cheered.
Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so
grave that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of
anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as
solemn as she could.
The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and
confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste
theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back.
However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and
begged the Mouse to tell them something more.
"You promised to tell me your history, you know," said Alice, "and why
it is you hate--C and D," she added in a whisper, half afraid that it
would be offended again.
"Mine is a long and a sad tale!" said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and
sighing.
"It _is_ a long tail, certainly," said Alice, looking down with wonder
at the Mouse's tail; "but why do you call it sad?" And she kept on
puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of
the tale was something like this:
"Fury said to
a mouse, That
he met in the
house, Let
us both go
to law: _I_
will prose--
cute _you_.--
Come I'll
take no
denial: We
must have
the trial;
For really
this morning
I've
nothing
to do.
Said the
mouse to
the cur,
'Such a
trial, dear
sir. With
no jury
or judge,
would
be wasting
our
breath.'
'I'll be
judge,
I'll be
jury,'
said
cunning
old
Fury:
'I'll
try
the
whole
cause,
and
condemn
you to
death.'"
"You are not attending!" said the Mouse to Alice, severely. "What are
you thinking of?"
"I beg your pardon," said Alice very humbly: "you had got to the fifth
bend, I think?"
"I had _not_!" cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily.
"A knot!" said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking
anxiously about her. "Oh, do let me help to undo it!"
"I shall do nothing of the sort," said the Mouse, getting up and
walking away. "You insult me by talking such nonsense!"
"I didn't mean it!" pleaded poor Alice. "But you're so easily
offended, you know!"
The Mouse only growled in reply.
"Please come back, and finish your story!" Alice called after it. And
the others all joined in chorus, "Yes, please do!" But the Mouse only
shook its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker.
"What a pity it wouldn't stay!" sighed the Lory, as soon as it was
quite out of sight. And an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to
her daughter, "Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose
_your_ temper!" "Hold your tongue, Ma!" said the young Crab, a
little snappishly. "You're enough to try the patience of an oyster!"
"I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!" said Alice aloud,
addressing nobody in particular. "_She'd_ soon fetch it back!"
"And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?" said the
Lory.
Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet:
"Dinah's our cat. And she's such a capital one for catching mice, you
can't think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why,
she'll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!"
This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the
birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up
very carefully, remarking, "I really must be getting home: the
night-air doesn't suit my throat!" And a Canary called out in a
trembling voice to its children, "Come away, my dears! It's high time
you were all in bed!" On various pretexts they all moved off, and
Alice was soon left alone.
"I wish I hadn't mentioned Dinah!" she said to herself in a melancholy
tone. "Nobody seems to like her down here, and I'm sure she's the best
cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you
any more!" And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very
lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard
a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up
eagerly, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was
coming back to finish his story.
THE RABBIT SENDS IN A LITTLE BILL
By Lewis Carroll
It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking
anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard
it muttering to itself, "The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh
my fur and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are
ferrets! Where _can_ I have dropped them, I wonder?" Alice guessed in
a moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white
kid-gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them,
but they were nowhere to be seen--everything seemed to have changed
since her swim in the pool; and the great hall, with the glass table
and the little door, had vanished completely.
Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and
called out to her, in an angry tone, "Why, Mary Ann, what _are_ you
doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves
and a fan! Quick, now!" And Alice was so much frightened that she ran
off at once in the direction it pointed to, without trying to explain
the mistake that it had made.
"He took me for his housemaid," she said to herself as she ran. "How
surprised he'll be when he finds out who I am! But I'd better take him
his fan and gloves--that is, if I can find them." As she said this,
she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright
brass plate with the name "W. RABBIT" engraved upon it. She went in
without knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should
meet the real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had
found the fan and gloves.
"How queer it seems," Alice said to herself, "to be going messages for
a rabbit! I suppose Dinah'll be sending me on messages next!" And she
began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: "'Miss Alice! Come
here directly, and get ready for your walk!' 'Coming in a minute,
nurse! But I've got to watch this mouse-hole till Dinah comes back,
and see that the mouse doesn't get out.' Only I don't think," Alice
went on, "that they'd let Dinah stop in the house if it began ordering
people about like that!"
By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a
table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or
three pairs of tiny white kid-gloves: she took up the fan and a pair
of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell
upon a little bottle that stood near the looking glass. There was no
label this time with the words, "DRINK ME," but nevertheless she
uncorked it and put it to her lips.
"I know _something_ interesting is sure to happen," she said to
herself, "whenever I eat or drink anything: so I'll just see what this
bottle does. I do hope it'll make me grow large again, for really I'm
quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!"
It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she
had drunk half the bottle she found her head pressing against the
ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She
hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself "That's quite enough--I
hope I shan't grow any more--As it is, I can't get out at the door--I
do wish I hadn't drunk quite so much!"
Alas! It was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing,
and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there
was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down
with one elbow against the door and the other arm curled round her
head. Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one
arm out of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to
herself, "Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What _will_ become
of me?"
Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full
effect, and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and,
as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the
room again, no wonder she felt unhappy.
"It was much pleasanter at home," thought poor Alice, "when one wasn't
always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and
rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down that rabbit-hole--and
yet--and yet--it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do
wonder what _can_ have happened to me! When I used to read fairy
tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am
in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that
there ought! And when I grow up I'll write one--but I'm grown up now"
she added in a sorrowful tone: "at least there's no room to grow up
any more _here_."
"But then," thought Alice, "shall I _never_ get any older than I
am now? That'll be a comfort, one way--never to be an old woman--but
then--always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn't like _that_!"
"Oh, you foolish Alice!" she answered herself. "How can you learn
lessons in here? Why, there's hardly room for _you_, and no room at
all for any lesson books!"
And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and
making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes
she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen.
"Mary Ann! Mary Ann!" said the voice. "Fetch me my gloves this
moment!" Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice
knew it was the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till
she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a
thousand times as large as the Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid
of it.
Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but,
as the door opened inward, and Alice's elbow was pressed hard against
it, that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself, "Then
I'll go round and get in at the window."
"_That_ you won't!" thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied
she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out
her hand, and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of
anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of
broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it
had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort.
Next came an angry voice--the Rabbit's--"Pat! Pat! Where are you?" And
then a voice she had never heard before, "Sure then I'm here! Digging
for apples, yer honor!"
"Digging for apples, indeed!" said the Rabbit, angrily. "Here! Come
and help me out of _this_!" (Sounds of more broken glass.)
"Now tell me, Pat, what's that in the window?"
"Sure, it's an arm, yer honor!" (He pronounced it "arrum.")
"An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the
whole window!"
"Sure, it does, yer honor: but it's an arm for all that."
"Well, it's got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!"
There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear
whispers now and then; such as "Sure, I don't like it, yer honor, at
all, at all!" "Do as I tell you, you coward!" and at last she spread
out her hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time
there were _two_ little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass.
"What a number of cucumber-frames there must be!" thought Alice. "I
wonder what they'll do next! As for pulling me out of the window, I
only wish they _could_! I'm sure _I_ don't want to stay in here any
longer!"
She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came
a rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices
all talking together: she made out the words: "Where's the other
ladder?--Why, I hadn't to bring but one. Bill's got the other--Bill!
Fetch it here, lad!--Here, put 'em up at this corner--No, tie 'em
together first--they don't reach half high enough yet--Oh, they'll do
well enough. Don't be particular--Here, Bill! Catch hold of this
rope--Will the roof bear?--Mind that loose slate--Oh, it's coming
down! Heads below!" (a loud crash)--"Now, who did that?--It was Bill,
I fancy--Who's to go down the chimney?--Nay, _I_ shan't! _You_ do
it!--_That_ I won't, then!--Bill's got to go down--Here, Bill!
The master says you've got to go down the chimney!"
"Oh! So Bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?" said Alice to
herself. "Why, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn't be in
Bill's place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure;
but I _think_ I can kick a little!"
She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited
till she heard a little animal (she couldn't guess of what sort it
was) scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her:
then, saying to herself, "This is Bill," she gave one sharp kick, and
waited to see what would happen next.
The first thing she heard was a general chorus of, "There goes Bill!"
then the Rabbit's voice alone--"Catch him, you by the hedge!" then
silence, and then another confusion of voices--"Hold up his head--Brandy
now--Don't choke him--How was it, old fellow? What happened to you?
Tell us all about it!"
Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice ("That's Bill," thought
Alice), "Well, I hardly know--No more, thank ye; I'm better now--but
I'm a deal too flustered to tell you--all I know is, something comes
at me like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!"
"So you did, old fellow!" said the others.
"We must burn the house down!" said the Rabbit's voice. And Alice
called out, as loud as she could, "If you do, I'll set Dinah at you!"
There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, "I
wonder what they _will_ do next! If they had any sense, they'd take
the roof off." After a minute or two, they began moving about again,
and Alice heard the Rabbit say, "A barrowful will do, to begin with."
"A barrowful of _what_?" thought Alice. But she had not long to
doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in
at the window, and some of them hit her in the face. "I'll put a stop
to this," she said to herself, and shouted out, "You'd better not do
that again!" which produced another dead silence.
Alice noticed, with some surprise, that the pebbles were all turning
into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came
into her head. "If I eat one of these cakes," she thought, "it's sure
to make _some_ change in my size; and, as it can't possibly make me
larger, it must make me smaller, I suppose."
So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she
began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get
through the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of
little animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard,
Bill, was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were
giving it something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the
moment she appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon
found herself safe in a thick wood.
"The first thing I've got to do," said Alice to herself, as she
wandered about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and
the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think
that will be the best plan."
It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply
arranged: the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea
how to set about it; and, while she was peering about anxiously among
the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in
a great hurry.
An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and
feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. "Poor little
thing!" said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle
to it; but she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought
that it might be hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat
her up in spite of all her coaxing.
Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and
held it out to the puppy: whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off
all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick,
and made believe to worry it: then Alice dodged behind a great
thistle, to keep herself from being run over; and, the moment she
appeared on the other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick,
and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it: then
Alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a
cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet,
ran round the thistle again: then the puppy began a series of short
charges at the stick, running a very little way forward each time and
a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it
sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its
mouth, and its great eyes half shut.
This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape: so she
set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath,
and till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance.
"And yet what a dear little puppy it was!" said Alice, as she leaned
against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of
the leaves. "I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if--if
I'd only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I'd nearly forgotten
that I've got to grow up again! Let me see--how _is_ it to be managed?
I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great
question is, 'What?'"
The great question certainly was "What?" Alice looked all round her at
the flowers and the blades of grass, but she could not see anything
that looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the
circumstances. There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the
same height as herself; and, when she had looked under it, and on both
sides of it, and behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well
look and see what was on the top of it.
She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the
mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue
caterpillar, that was sitting on the top, with his arms folded,
quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of
her or of anything else.
ADVICE FROM A CATERPILLAR
By Lewis Carroll
The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in
silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and
addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
"Who are _you_?" said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied,
rather shyly, "I--I hardly know, Sir, just at present--at least I know
who I _was_ when I got up this morning, but I think I must have
changed several times since then."
"What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar, sternly. "Explain
yourself!"
"I can't explain _myself_, I'm afraid, Sir," said Alice, "because I'm
not myself, you see."
"I don't see," said the Caterpillar.
"I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly," Alice replied, very
politely, "for I can't understand it myself, to begin with; and being
so many different sizes in a day is very confusing."
"It isn't," said the Caterpillar.
"Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet," said Alice; "but when you
have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then
after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little
queer, won't you?"
"Not a bit," said the Caterpillar.
"Well, perhaps _your_ feelings may be different," said Alice: "all I
know is, it would feel very queer to _me_."
"You!" said the Caterpillar contemptuously. "Who are _you_?"
Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation.
Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such _very_
short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, "I
think you ought to tell me who _you_ are, first."
"Why?" said the Caterpillar.
Here was another puzzling question; and, as Alice could not think of
any good reason, and the Caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_
unpleasant state of mind, she turned away.
"Come back!" the Caterpillar called after her. "I've something
important to say!"
This sounded promising, certainly. Alice turned and came back again.
"Keep your temper," said the Caterpillar.
"Is that all?" said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she
could.
"No," said the Caterpillar.