Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (Barnes & Noble Cla

by Lewis Carroll

  “With extras?” asked the Mock Turtle, a little anxiously.

  “Yes,” said Alice: “we learned French and music.”

  “And washing?” said the Mock Turtle.

  “Certainly not!” said Alice indignantly.

  “Ah! Then yours wasn’t a really good school,” said the Mock Turtle in a tone of great relief. “Now, at ours, they had, at the end of the bill, ‘French, music, and washing—extra.’”

  “You couldn’t have wanted it much,” said Alice; “living at the bottom of the sea.”

  “I couldn’t afford to learn it,” said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. “I only took the regular course.”

  “What was that?” inquired Alice.

  “Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,” the Mock Turtle replied; “and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.”

  “I never heard of ‘Uglification,’ ” Alice ventured to say. “What is it?”

  The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. “Never heard of uglifying!” it exclaimed. “You know what to beautify is, I suppose?”

  “Yes,” said Alice doubtfully: “it means—to—make—anything—prettier.”

  “Well, then,” the Gryphon went on, “if you don’t know what to uglify is, you are a simpleton.”

  Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it: so she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said “What else had you to learn?”

  “Well, there was Mystery,” the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers,—“Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, that used to come once a week: he taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.”

  “What was that like?” said Alice.

  “Well, I ca’n’t show it you, myself,” the Mock Turtle said: “I’m too stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.”

  “Hadn’t time,” said the Gryphon: “I went to the Classical master, though. He was an old crab, he was.”

  “I never went to him,” the Mock Turtle said with a sigh. “He taught Laughing and Grief, they used to say.”

  “So he did, so he did,” said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.

  “And how many hours a day did you do lessons?” said Alice, in a hurry to change the subject.

  “Ten hours the first day,” said the Mock Turtle: “nine the next, and so on.”

  “What a curious plan!” exclaimed Alice.

  “That’s the reason they’re called lessons,” the Gryphon remarked: “because they lessen from day to day.”

  This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little before she made her next remark. “Then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?”

  “Of course it was,” said the Mock Turtle.

  “And how did you manage on the twelfth?” Alice went on eagerly.

  “That’s enough about lessons,” the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided tone. “Tell her something about the games now.”

  X

  The Lobster Quadrille

  The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at Alice and tried to speak, but, for a minute or two, sobs choked his voice. “Same as if he had a bone in his throat,” said the Gryphon; and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his cheeks, he went on again:—

  “ 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 checked herself hastily, and said “No, never”) “——so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a Lobster-Quadrille is!”

  “No, indeed,” said Alice. “What sort of a dance is it?”

  “Why,” said the Gryphon, “you first form into a line along the sea-shore——”

  “Two lines!” cried the Mock Turtle. “Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on: then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way——”

  “That generally takes some time,” interrupted the Gryphon.

  “—you advance twice——”

  “Each with a lobster as a partner!” cried the Gryphon.

  “Of course,” the Mock Turtle said: “advance twice, set to partners——”

  “—change lobsters, and retire in same order,” continued the Gryphon.

  “Then, you know,” the Mock Turtle went on, “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.

  “Back to land again, and—that’s all the first figure,” said the Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping his 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.”

  So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their fore-paws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:—

  “Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting

  to a snail,

  “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s

  treading on my tail.

  See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all

  advance!

  They are waiting on the shingle—will you come

  and join the dance?

  Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you,

  will you join the dance?

  Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you,

  wo’n’t you join the dance?

  “You can really have no notion how delightful

  it will be

  When they take us up and throw us, with the

  lobsters, out to sea!”

  But the snail replied “Too far, too far!”, and

  gave a look askance—

  Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he

  would not join the dance.

  Would not, could not, would not, could not,

  would not join the dance.

  Would not, could not, would not, could not,

  could not join the dance.

  “What matters it how far we go?” his scaly

  friend replied.

  “There is another shore, you know, upon the

  other side.

  The further off from England the nearer is to

  France—

  Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and

  join the dance.

  Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you,

  will you join the dance?

  Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you,

  wo’n’t you join the dance?”

  “Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,” said Alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last: “and I do so like that curious song about the whiting!”

  “Oh, as to the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle, “they—you’ve seen them, of course?”

  “ Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at dinn——” she checked herself hastily.

  “I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle; “but, if y
ou’ve seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like?”

  “I believe so,” Alice replied thoughtfully. “They have their tails in their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.”

  “You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the Mock Turtle: “crumbs would all wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their mouths; and the reason is—” here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes. “Tell her about the reason and all that,” he said to the Gryphon.

  “The reason is,” said the Gryphon, “that they would go with the lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.”

  “Thank you,” said Alice, “it’s very interesting. I never knew so much about a whiting before.”

  “I can tell you more than that, if you like,” said the Gryphon. “Do you know why it’s called a whiting?”i

  “I never thought about it,” said Alice. “Why?”

  “It does the boots and shoes,” the Gryphon replied very solemnly.

  Alice was thoroughly puzzled. “Does the boots and shoes!” she repeated in a wondering tone.

  “Why, what are your shoes done with?” said the Gryphon. “I mean, what makes them so shiny?”

  Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her answer. “They’re done with blacking, I believe.”

  “Boots and shoes under the sea,” the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, “are done with whiting. Now you know.”

  “And what are they made of ?” Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.

  “Soles and eels, of course,” the Gryphon replied, rather impatiently: “any shrimp could have told you that.”

  “If I’d been the whiting,” said Alice, whose thoughts were still running on the song, “I’d have said to the porpoise ‘Keep back, please! We don’t want you with us!’ ”

  “They were obliged to have him with them,” the Mock Turtle said. “No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.”

  “Wouldn’t it, really?” said Alice, in a tone of great surprise.

  “Of course not,” said the Mock Turtle. “Why, if a fish came to me, and told me he was going a journey, I should say ‘With what porpoise?’ ”

  “Don’t you mean ‘purpose’?” said Alice.

  “I mean what I say,” the Mock Turtle replied, in an offended tone. And the Gryphon added “Come, let’s hear some of your adventures.”

  “I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said Alice a little timidly; “but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”

  “Explain all that,” said the Mock Turtle.

  “No, no! The adventures first,” said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: “explanations take such a dreadful time.”

  So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it, just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so very wide; but she gained courage as she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating “You are old, Father William,” to the Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and said “That’s very curious!”

  “It’s all about as curious as it can be,” said the Gryphon.

  “It all came different!” the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. “I should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to begin.” He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over Alice.

  “Stand up and repeat ‘’Tis the voice of the sluggard,’ ” said the Gryphon.

  “How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!” thought Alice. “I might just as well be at school at once.” However, she got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster-Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying; and the words came very queer indeed:—

  “’Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare

  ‘You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.’

  As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose

  Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.

  When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,

  And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark:

  But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,

  His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.”

  “That’s different from what I used to say when I was a child,” said the Gryphon.

  “Well, I never heard it before,” said the Mock Turtle; “but it sounds uncommon nonsense.”

  Alice said nothing: she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again.

  “I should like to have it explained,” said the Mock Turtle.

  “She ca’n’t explain it,” said the Gryphon hastily. “Go on with the next verse.”

  “But about his toes?” the Mock Turtle persisted. “How could he turn them out with his nose, you know?”

  “It’s the first position in dancing,” Alice said; but she was dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject.

  “Go on with the next verse,” the Gryphon repeated: “it begins ‘I passed by his garden.’ ”

  Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:—

  “I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,

  How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:

  The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,

  While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.

  When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,

  Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:

  While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,

  And concluded the banquet by——”

  “What is the use of repeating all that stuff ?” the Mock Turtle interrupted, “if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the most confusing thing I ever heard!”

  “ Yes, I think you’d better leave off,” said the Gryphon, and Alice was only too glad to do so.

  “Shall we try another figure of the Lobster-Quadrille?” the Gryphon went on. “Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you another song?”

  “Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,” Alice replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, “Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her ‘Turtle Soup,’ will you, old fellow?”

  The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice 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!

  “Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,

  Game, or any other dish?

  Who would not give all else for two

  Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?

  Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?

  Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!

  Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!

  Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,

  Beautiful, beauti—FUL 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, it hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.

  “What trial is it?” Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only answered “Come on!” and ran the faster, while more and more fain
tly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:—

  “Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,

  Beautiful, beautiful Soup!”

  XI

  Who Stole the Tarts?

  The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them—“I wish they’d get the trial done,” she thought, “and hand round the refreshments!” But there seemed to be no chance of this; so she began looking at everything about her to pass away the time.

  Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of nearly everything there. “That’s the judge,” she said to herself, “because of his great wig.”

  The judge, by the way, was the King; and, as he wore his crown over the wig (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it), he did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming.

  “And that’s the jury-box,” thought Alice; “and those twelve creatures,” (she was obliged to say “creatures,” you see, because some of them were animals, and some were birds,) “I suppose they are the jurors.” She said this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her age knew the meaning of it at all. However, “jurymen” would have done just as well.

  The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. “What are they doing?” Alice whispered to the Gryphon. “They ca’n’t have anything to put down yet, before the trial’s begun.”

  “They’re putting down their names,” the Gryphon whispered in reply, “for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.”

  “Stupid things!” Alice began in a loud indignant voice; but she stopped herself hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, “Silence in the court!”, and the King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who was talking.