Alice's Adventure In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll (top 10 novels to read .TXT) 📗

if you were me?”

“Well, perhaps not,” said Alice in a soothing tone: “don’t be angry

about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you’d

take a fancy to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear

quiet thing,” Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about

in the pool, “and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her

paws and washing her face—and she is such a nice soft thing to

nurse—and she’s such a capital one for catching mice—oh, I beg your

pardon!” cried Alice again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all

over, and she felt certain it must be really offended. “We won’t talk

about her any more if you’d rather not.”

“We indeed!” cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his

tail. “As if _I_ would talk on such a subject! Our family always

_hated_ cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the name

again!”

“I won’t indeed!” said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of

conversation. “Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?” The Mouse did not

answer, so Alice went on eagerly: “There is such a nice little dog near

our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed terrier, you

know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it’ll fetch things when

you throw them, and it’ll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts

of things—I can’t remember half of them—and it belongs to a farmer, you

know, and he says it’s so useful, it’s worth a hundred pounds! He says

it kills all the rats and—oh dear!” cried Alice in a sorrowful tone,

“I’m afraid I’ve offended it again!” For the Mouse was swimming away

from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the

pool as it went.

So she called softly after it, “Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we

won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them!” When the

Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face

was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low

trembling voice, “Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my

history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.”

It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the

birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a

Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice

led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore.

CHAPTER III.

A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale

They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the

birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close

to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable.

The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a

consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite

natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if

she had known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument

with the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, “I am

older than you, and must know better;” and this Alice would not allow

without knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to

tell its age, there was no more to be said.

At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among 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 favoured 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 the 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 wanted much 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 sat 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?” he 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 prosecute _you_.—Come, I’ll take no

denial; We must have a 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.