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and what Alice found there
by Lewis Carroll
Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the country she was going to travel through. âItâs something very like learning geography,â thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes of being able to see a little further. âPrincipal rivers â there ARE none. Principal mountains â Iâm on the only one, but I donât think itâs got any name. Principal towns â why, what ARE those creatures, making honey down there? They canât be bees â nobody ever saw bees a mile off, you knowââ and for some time she stood silent, watching one of them that was bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them, âjust as if it was a regular bee,â thought Alice.
However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an elephant â as Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath away at first. âAnd what enormous flowers they must be!â was her next idea. âSomething like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put to them â and what quantities of honey they must make! I think Iâll go down andâ no, I wonât JUST yet,â she went on, checking herself just as she was beginning to run down the hill, and trying to find some excuse for turning shy so suddenly. âItâll never do to go down among them without a good long branch to brush them away â and what fun itâll be when they ask me how I like my walk. I shall sayâ âOh, I like it well enoughâââ (here came the favourite little toss of the head), ââonly it was so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!ââ
âI think Iâll go down the other way,â she said after a pause: âand perhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get into the Third Square!â
So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of the six little brooks.
âTickets, please!â said the Guard, putting his head in at the window. In a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the same size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.
âNow then! Show your ticket, child!â the Guard went on, looking angrily at Alice. And a great many voices all said together (âlike the chorus of a song,â thought Alice), âDonât keep him waiting, child! Why, his time is worth a thousand pounds a minute!â
âIâm afraid I havenât got one,â Alice said in a frightened tone: âthere wasnât a ticket-office where I came from.â And again the chorus of voices went on. âThere wasnât room for one where she came from. The land there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!â
âDonât make excuses,â said the Guard: âyou should have bought one from the engine-driver.â And once more the chorus of voices went on with âThe man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a thousand pounds a puff!â
Alice thought to herself, âThen thereâs no use in speaking.â The voices didnât join in this time, as she hadnât spoken, but to her great surprise, they all THOUGHT in chorus (I hope you understand what âthinking in chorusâ means â for I must confess that I donât), âBetter say nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!â
âI shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!â thought Alice.
All this time the Guard was looking at her, first through a telescope, then through a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last he said, âYouâre travelling the wrong way,â and shut up the window and went away.
âSo young a child,â said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he was dressed in white paper), âought to know which way sheâs going, even if she doesnât know her own name!â
A Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his eyes and said in a loud voice, âShe ought to know her way to the ticket-office, even if she doesnât know her alphabet!â
There was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queer carriage-full of passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to be that they should all speak in turn, HE went on with âSheâll have to go back from here as luggage!â
Alice couldnât see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse voice spoke next. âChange enginesââ it said, and was obliged to leave off.
âIt sounds like a horse,â Alice thought to herself. And an extremely small voice, close to her ear, said, âYou might make a joke on that â something about âhorseâ and âhoarse,â you know.â
Then a very gentle voice in the distance said, âShe must be labelled âLass, with care,â you knowââ
And after that other voices went on (âWhat a number of people there are in the carriage!â thought Alice), saying, âShe must go by post, as sheâs got a head on herââ âShe must be sent as a message by the telegraphââ âShe must draw the train herself the rest of the wayââ and so on.
But the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered in her ear, âNever mind what they all say, my dear, but take a return-ticket every time the train stops.â
âIndeed I shanât!â Alice said rather impatiently. âI donât belong to this railway journey at all â I was in a wood just now â and I wish I could get back there.â
âYou might make a joke on THAT,â said the little voice close to her ear: âsomething about âyou WOULD if you could,â you know.â
âDonât tease so,â said Alice, looking about in vain to see where the voice came from; âif youâre so anxious to have a joke made, why donât you make one yourself?â
The little voice sighed deeply: it was VERY unhappy, evidently, and Alice would have said something pitying to comfort it, âIf it would only sigh like other people!â she thought. But this was such a wonderfully small sigh, that she wouldnât have heard it at all, if it hadnât come QUITE close to her ear. The consequence of this was that it tickled her ear very much, and quite took off her thoughts from the unhappiness of the poor little creature.
âI know you are a friend,â the little voice went on; âa dear friend, and an old friend. And you wonât hurt me, though I AM an insect.â
âWhat kind of insect?â Alice inquired a little anxiously. What she really wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but she thought this wouldnât be quite a civil question to ask.
âWhat, then you donâtââ the little voice began, when it was drowned by a shrill scream from the engine, and everybody jumped up in alarm, Alice among the rest.
The Horse, who had put his head out of the window, quietly drew it in and said, âItâs only a brook we have to jump over.â Everybody seemed satisfied with this, though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea of trains jumping at all. âHowever, itâll take us into the Fourth Square, thatâs some comfort!â she said to herself. In another moment she felt the carriage rise straight up into the air, and in her fright she caught at the thing nearest to her hand, which happened to be the Goatâs beard.
But the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she found herself sitting quietly under a tree â while the Gnat (for that was the insect she had been talking to) was balancing itself on a twig just over her head, and fanning her with its wings.
It certainly was a VERY large Gnat: âabout the size of a chicken,â Alice thought. Still, she couldnât feel nervous with it, after they had been talking together so long.
ââthen you donât like all insects?â the Gnat went on, as quietly as if nothing had happened.
âI like them when they can talk,â Alice said. âNone of them ever talk, where I come from.â
âWhat sort of insects do you rejoice in, where YOU come from?â the Gnat inquired.
âI donât REJOICE in insects at all,â Alice explained, âbecause Iâm rather afraid of them â at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them.â
âOf course they answer to their names?â the Gnat remarked carelessly.
âI never knew them to do it.â
âWhatâs the use of their having names,â the Gnat said, âif they wonât answer to them?â
âNo use to THEM,â said Alice; âbut itâs useful to the people who name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?â
âI canât say,â the Gnat replied. âFurther on, in the wood down there, theyâve got no names â however, go on with your list of insects: youâre wasting time.â
âWell, thereâs the Horse-fly,â Alice began, counting off the names on her fingers.
âAll right,â said the Gnat: âhalf way up that bush, youâll see a Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. Itâs made entirely of wood, and gets about by swinging itself from branch to branch.â
âWhat does it live on?â Alice asked, with great curiosity.
âSap and sawdust,â said the Gnat. âGo on with the list.â
Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright and sticky; and then she went on.
âAnd thereâs the Dragon-fly.â
âLook on the branch above your head,â said the Gnat, âand there youâll find a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.â
âAnd what does it live on?â
âFrumenty and mince pie,â the Gnat replied; âand it makes its nest in a Christmas box.â
âAnd then thereâs the Butterfly,â Alice went on, after she had taken a good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to herself, âI wonder if thatâs the reason insects are so fond of flying into candles â because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!â
âCrawling at your feet,â said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), âyou may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.â
âAnd what does IT live on?â
âWeak tea with cream in it.â
A new difficulty came into Aliceâs head. âSupposing it couldnât find any?â she suggested.
âThen it would die, of course.â
âBut that must happen very often,â Alice remarked thoughtfully.
âIt always happens,â said the Gnat.
After this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat amused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last it settled again and remarked, âI suppose you donât want to lose your name?â
âNo, indeed,â Alice said, a little anxiously.
âAnd yet I donât know,â the Gnat went on in a careless tone: âonly think how convenient it would be if you could manage to go home without it! For instance, if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons, she would call out âcome hereâ,â and there she would have to leave off, because there wouldnât be any name for her to call, and of course you wouldnât have to go, you know.â
âThat would never do, Iâm sure,â said Alice: âthe governess would never think of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldnât remember my name, sheâd call me âMiss!â as the servants do.â
âWell, if she said âMiss,â and didnât say anything more,â the Gnat remarked, âof course youâd miss your lessons. Thatâs a joke. I wish YOU had made it.â
âWhy do you wish I had made it?â Alice asked. âItâs a very bad one.â
But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling down its cheeks.
âYou shouldnât make jokes,â Alice said, âif it makes you so unhappy.â
Then came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the poor Gnat really seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when Alice looked up, there was nothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, as she was getting quite chilly with sitting still so long, she got up and walked on.
She very soon came to an open field, with a wood on the other side of it: it looked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a LITTLE timid about going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up her mind to go on: âfor I certainly wonât go BACK,â she thought to herself, and this was the only way to the Eighth Square.
âThis must be the wood,â she said thoughtfully to herself, âwhere things have no names. I wonder whatâll become of MY name when I go in? I shouldnât like to lose it at all â because theyâd have to give me another, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then the fun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old name! Thatâs just like the advertisements, you know, when people lose dogsâ âanswers to the name of âDash:â had on a brass collarâ â just fancy calling everything you met âAlice,â till one of them answered! Only they wouldnât answer at all, if they were wise.â
She was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it looked very cool and shady. âWell, at any rate itâs a great comfort,â she said as she stepped under the trees, âafter being so hot, to get into the â into WHAT?â she went on, rather surprised at not being able to think of the word. âI mean to get under the â under the â under THIS, you know!â putting her hand on the trunk of the tree. âWhat DOES it call itself, I wonder? I do believe itâs got no name â why, to be sure it hasnât!â
She stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again. âThen it really HAS happened, after all! And now, who am I? I WILL remember, if I can! Iâm determined to do it!â But being determined didnât help much, and all she could say, after a great deal of puzzling, was, âL, I KNOW it begins with L!â
Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large gentle eyes, but didnât seem at all frightened. âHere then! Here then!â Alice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.
âWhat do you call yourself?â the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had!
âI wish I knew!â thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, âNothing, just now.â
âThink again,â it said: âthat wonât do.â
Alice thought, but nothing came of it. âPlease, would you tell me what YOU call yourself?â she said timidly. âI think that might help a little.â
âIâll tell you, if youâll move a little further on,â the Fawn said. âI canât remember here.â
So they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Aliceâs arms. âIâm a Fawn!â it cried out in a voice of delight, âand, dear me! youâre a human child!â A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed.
Alice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at having lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. âHowever, I know my name now.â she said, âthatâs SOME comfort. Aliceâ Aliceâ I wonât forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow, I wonder?â
It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one road through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it. âIâll settle it,â Alice said to herself, âwhen the road divides and they point different ways.â
But this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way, but wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts pointing the same way, one marked âTO TWEEDLEDUMâS HOUSEâ and the other âTO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.â
âI do believe,â said Alice at last, âthat they live in the same house! I wonder I never thought of that before â But I canât stay there long. Iâll just call and say âhow dâyou do?â and ask them the way out of the wood. If I could only get to the Eighth Square before it gets dark!â So she wandered on, talking to herself as she went, till, on turning a sharp corner, she came upon two fat little men, so suddenly that she could not help starting back, but in another moment she recovered herself, feeling sure that they must be.