"'You don't know much,' said the d.u.c.h.ess; 'and that's a fact.'

"Alice did not like the tone of this remark and thought it would be well to introduce some other subject of conversation."

Then the _Cook_ began throwing things about, and the _d.u.c.h.ess_, to quiet the howling _Baby_, sang the following beautiful lullaby, which she emphasized by a violent shake at the end of every line. Considering Lewis Carroll's rather strong feeling on the boy question, they were most appropriate lines, indeed.

Speak roughly to your little boy, And beat him when he sneezes; He only does it to annoy, Because he know it teases.

_Chorus._ (In which the Cook and the Baby joined.) Wow! wow! wow!

I speak severely to my boy, I beat him when he sneezes, For he can thoroughly enjoy The pepper when he pleases!

_Chorus._ Wow! wow! wow!

Imagine the quiet "don" beating time to this beautiful measure, his blue eyes gleaming with fun, his expressive voice shaded to just the right tones to give color to the chorus, while the little girls chimed in at the proper moment. It was no trouble for him to make rhymes, being endowed with this wonderful gift of nonsense, and in conversation he was equally clever. He gave the _d.u.c.h.ess_ quite the air of a learned lady, even though she did not know that mustard was a vegetable. When _Alice_ suggested that it was a mineral, she was quite ready to agree. "'There's a large mustard mine near here,' she observed, 'and the moral of that is' [the d.u.c.h.ess had a moral for everything], 'The more there is of mine--the less there is of yours.' 'Oh, I know!' exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last remark, 'it's a vegetable. It doesn't look like one but it is.'

"'I quite agree with you,' said the d.u.c.h.ess, 'and the moral of that is, "Be what you would seem to be," or if you'd like to put it more simply, "Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."'

"'I think I should understand that better,' said Alice, very politely, 'if I had it written down, but I can't quite follow it as you say it.'

"'That's nothing to what I could say if I chose,'" the d.u.c.h.ess replied in a pleasant tone.

_Alice's_ talk with the _Cheshire Cat_, which had the remarkable power of appearing and vanishing in portions, the table gossip at the Mad Tea Party, to which she was an uninvited guest, are too well-known to quote.

Many a time the Mad Tea Party has been the theme of some nursery play or school entertainment. The _Mad Hatter_ and the _March Hare_ were certainly the maddest things that ever were. When the _Hatter_ complained of his watch being two days wrong, he turned angrily to the _March Hare_, saying:

"'I told you b.u.t.ter wouldn't suit the works.'

"'It was the _best_ b.u.t.ter,' the March Hare meekly replied.

"'Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,' the Hatter grumbled; 'you shouldn't have put it in with the bread knife.'

"The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily; then he dipped it into his cup of tea and looked at it again; but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, 'It was the _best_ b.u.t.ter you know.'"

Surely nothing could be more amusing that this party of mad ones, and the sleepy _Dormouse_, who sat between the _March Hare_ and the _Hatter_, contributed his share to the fun, while the _Hatter's_ songs, which he sang at the concert given by the _Queen of Hearts_, was certainly very familiar to _Alice_. It began:

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat-- How I wonder what you're at!

Up above the world you fly, Like a tea tray in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle.

Who but Lewis Carroll could invent such a scene? Who could better plan the little sparkling sentences which gave the nonsense just the glitter which children found so fascinating and so laughable. Yet what did they laugh at after all? What do we laugh at even to-day in glancing over the familiar pages? What is it in the mysterious depths of childhood which Lewis Carroll has caught in his golden web? Perhaps, it is not all mere childhood; we are ourselves but "children of a larger growth," and deep down within us at some time or other fancy runs riot and imagination does the rest. So it was with Lewis Carroll, only _his_ fancy soared into genius, carrying with it, as someone has said, "a suggestion of clear and yet soft laughing sunshine. He never made us laugh _at_ anything, but always _with_ him and his knights and queens and heroes of the nursery rhymes."

Behind much of the world's laughter tears may be hiding, but not so in the case of Lewis Carroll; all is pure mirth that flows from him to us, and above all he possesses that indescribable thing called charm. It lurks in the quaint conversations, in the fluent measure of the songs, in the fantastic scenes so full of ideas that seem to vanish before we quite grasp them--like the _Cheshire Cat_--leaving only the smile behind.

To those of us--the world in short--who were denied the privilege of hearing Lewis Carroll tell his own story, the Tenniel pictures bring Wonderland very close. Our natural history alone would not help us in the least when it came to cla.s.sifying the many strange animals _Alice_ met on her journey. The _Mock Turtle_, the _Gryphon_, the _Lory_, the _Dodo_, the _Cheshire Cat_, the _Fish_ and _Frog_ footmen--how could we imagine them without the Tenniel "guidebook"? The numberless transformations of _Alice_ could hardly be understood without photographs of her in the various stages. And certainly at the croquet party, given by the _Queen of Hearts_, how could anyone imagine a game played with bent-over soldiers for wickets, hedgehogs for croquet b.a.l.l.s, and flamingoes for mallets, unless there were accompanying ill.u.s.trations?

One specially interesting picture shows the _Gryphon_ in the foreground; he and _Alice_ paid a visit to the _Mock Turtle_, who, by way of entertaining his guests, gave the following description of the Lobster Quadrille. With tears running down his cheeks he began:

"'You have never lived much under the sea' ('I haven't,' said Alice) 'and perhaps you were never introduced to a lobster--' (Alice began to say 'I once tasted--' but she 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 seash.o.r.e.'

"'Two lines!' cried the Mock Turtle. 'Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; then when you've cleared all the jellyfish 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."

Who could read this without laughing, with no reason for the laugh but sheer delight and sympathy with the story-teller, and with dancing and motion and all the rest of it. If anyone begins to hunt for the reasons why we like "Alice in Wonderland" that person is either very, very sleepy, or she has left her youth so far behind her that, like the _Lory_, she absolutely refuses to tell her age, in which case she must be as old as the hills.

Then the dance, which the two gravely performed for the little girl, and who can forget the song of the _Mock Turtle_?

"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, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won'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 sh.o.r.e, you know, upon the other side, The farther off from England the nearer is to France; Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"

Then _Alice_ tried to repeat "'Tis the voice of the Sluggard," but she was so full of the Lobster Quadrille that the words came like this: