- No use to THEM, - said Alice; - but it's useful to the people who
name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?
- I can't say, - the Gnat replied. - Further on, in the wood down
there, they've got no names - however, go on with your list of insects:
you're wasting time.
- Well, there's the Horse-fly, - Alice began, counting off the names
on her fingers.
- All right, - said the Gnat: - half way up that bush, you'll see a
Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It's made entirely of wood, and gets about
by swinging itself from branch to branch.
- What does it live on? - Alice asked, with great curiosity.
- Sap and sawdust, - said the Gnat. - Go on with the list. 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.
- And there's the Dragon-fly.
- Look on the branch above your head, - said the Gnat, - and there
you'll 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.
- And what does it live on?
- Frumenty and mince pie, - the Gnat replied; - and it makes is nest
in a Christmas box.
- And then there's the Butterfly, - Alice went on, after she had
taken a good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to
herself, - I wonder if that's the reason insects are so fond of flying
into candles - because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!
- Crawling at your feet, - said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in
some alarm), - you 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.
- And what does IT live on?
- Weak tea with cream in it. A new difficulty came into Alice's head.
- Supposing it couldn't find
any? - she suggested.
- Then it would die, of course.
- But that must happen very often, - Alice remarked thoughtfully.
- It always happens, - 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, - I suppose you don't want to lose your name?
- No, indeed, - Alice said, a little anxiously.
- And yet I don't know, - the Gnat went on in a careless tone: - only
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 "come here - ," and there she would have to leave off,
because there wouldn't be any name for her to all, and of course you
wouldn't have to go, you know.
- That would never do, I'm sure, - said Alice: - the governess would
never think of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldn't remember my
name, she'd call me "Miss!" as the servants do.
- Well. if she said "Miss," and didn't say anything more, - the Gnat
remarked, - of course you'd miss your lessons. That's a joke. I wish YOU
had made it.
- Why do you wish _I_ had made it? - Alice asked. - It's a very bad
one.
But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling
down its cheeks.
- You shouldn't make jokes, - Alice said, - if it makes you so
unhappy.
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: - for I certainly won't go BACK, - she thought to herself,
and this was the only way to the Eighth Square.
- This must be the wood, she said thoughtfully to herself, - where
things have no names. I wonder what'll become of MY name when I go in? I
shouldn't like to lose it at all - because they'd 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! That's just like
the advertisements, you know, when people lose dogs - "ANSWERS TO THE NAME
OF - DASH: - HAD ON A BRASS COLLAR" - just fancy calling everything you
met "Alice," till one of them answered! Only they wouldn't answer at all,
if they were wise.
She was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it looked
very cool and shady. - Well, at any rate it's a great comfort, she said as
she stepped under the trees, - after being so hot, to get into the - into
WHAT? - she went on, rather surprised at not being able to think of the
word. - I mean to get under the - under the under THIS, you know! -
putting her hand on the trunk of the tree.
- What DOES it call itself, I wonder? I do believe it's got no name
why, to be sure it hasn't!
She stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began
again. - Then it really HAS happened, after all! And how, who am I? I WILL
remember, if I can! I'm determined to do it! - But being determined didn't
help much, and all she could say, after a great deal of puzzling, was, -
L, I KNOW it begins with L!
Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large
gentle eyes, but didn't seem at all frightened. - Here then! Here then! -
Alice said, as he held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only
started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.
- What do you call yourself? - the Fawn said at last. Such a soft
sweet voice it had!
- I wish I knew! - thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, -
Nothing, just now.
- Think again, - it said: - that won't do. Alice thought, but nothing
came of it. - Please, would you tell me
what YOU call yourself? - she said timidly. - I think that might help a
little.
- I'll tell you, of you'll move a little further on, - the Fawn said.
- I can't remember here.
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 Alice's arms. - I'm a Fawn! - it cried out in a
voice of delight, - and, dear me! you're a human child! - A sudden look of
alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had
darted away a full speed.
Alice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at
having lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. - However, I
know my name now. - she said, - that's SOME comfort. Alice - Alice I won't
forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow, I
wonder?
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. -
I'll settle it, - Alice said to herself, - when the road divides and they
point different ways.
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 - TO TWEEDLEDUM'S HOUSE - and the other
- TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.
- I do believe, - said Alice at last, - that they live in the same
house! I wonder I never thought of that before - But I can't stay there
long. I'll just call and say "how d'you do?" and ask them the way out of
the wood. If I could only get the Eighth Square before it gets dark! - 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




CHAPTER IV

TWEEDLEDUM AND TWEEDLEDEE


They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other's
neck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had
- DUM - embroidered on his collar, and the other - DEE. - I suppose
they've each got "TWEEDLE" round at the back of the collar, - she said to
herself.
They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she
was just looking round to see if the word "TWEEDLE" was written at the
back of each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one
marked - DUM.
- If you think we're wax-works, - he said, - you ought to pay, you
know. Wax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing, Nohow!
- Contrariwise, - added the one marked - DEE, - if you think we're
alive, you ought to speak.
- I'm sure I'm very sorry, - was all Alice could say; for the words
of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock,
and she could hardly help saying them out loud:

- Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.

- I know what you're thinking about, - said Tweedledum: - but it
isn't so, nohow.
- Contrariwise, - continued Tweedledee, - if it was so, it might be;
and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.
- I was thinking, - Alice said very politely, - which is the best way
out of this wood: it's getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?
But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.
They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice
couldn't help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying - First Boy!
- Nohow! - Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again
with a snap.
- Next Boy! - said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt
quite certain he would only shout out "Contrariwise! - and so he did.
- You've been wrong! - cried Tweedledum. - The first thing in a visit
is to say "How d'ye do?" and shake hands! - And here the two brothers gave
each other a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to
shake hands with her.
Alice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear
of hurting the other one's feelings; so, as the best way out of the
difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once: the next moment they were
dancing found in a ring. This seemed quite natural (she remembered
afterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing: it
seemed to come from the tree under which they were dancing, and it was
done (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing one across
the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.
- But it certainly WAS funny, - (Alice said afterwards, when she was
telling her sister the history of all this,) - to find myself singing
"HERE WE GO ROUND THE MULBERRY BUSH." I don't know when I began it, but
somehow I felt as if I'd been singing it a long long time!
The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. - Four
times round is enough for one dance, - Tweedledum panted out, and they
left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the
same moment.
Then they let go of Alice's hands, and stood looking at her for a
minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn't know how to
begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. - It
would never do to say "How d'ye do?" NOW, - she said to herself: - we seem
to have got beyond that, somehow!
- I hope you're not much tired? - she said at last.
- Nohow. And thank you VERY much for asking, - said Tweedledum.
- So much obliged! - added Tweedledee. - You like poetry?
- Ye-es. pretty well - SOME poetry, - Alice said doubtfully. - Would
you tell me which road leads out of the wood?
- What shall I repeat to her? - said Tweedledee, looking round at
Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice's question.
- "THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER" is the longest, - Tweedledum
replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug.
Tweedledee began instantly:

- The sun was shining

Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. - If it's VERY long, - she
said, as politely as she could, - would you please tell me first which
road
Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:

- The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying over head
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it WOULD be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him.
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes - and ships - and sealing-wax
Of cabbages - and kings
And why the sea is boiling hot
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed
Now if you're ready Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue,
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said.
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter.
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?"
But answer came there none
And that was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

- I like the Walrus best, - said Alice: - because you see he was a
LITTLE sorry for the poor oysters.
- He ate more than the Carpenter, though, - said Tweedledee. - You
see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn't
count how many he took: contrariwise.
- That was mean! - Alice said indignantly. - Then I like the
Carpenter best - if he didn't eat so many as the Walrus.
- But he ate as many as he could get, - said Tweedledum. This was a
puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, - Well! They were
BOTH very unpleasant characters - Here she checked herself in some alarm,
at hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large
steam-engine in the wood near them, thought she feared it was more likely
to be a wild beast. - Are there any lions or tigers about here? - she
asked timidly.
- It's only the Red King snoring, - said Tweedledee.
- Come and look at him! - the brothers cried, and they each took one
of Alice's hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.
- Isn't he a LOVELY sight?" said Tweedledum. Alice couldn't say
honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap
on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy
heap, and snoring loud - fit to snore his head off! - as Tweedledum
remarked.
- I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass, - said
Alice, who was a very thoughtful little girl.
- He's dreaming now, - said Tweedledee: - and what do you think he's
dreaming about?
Alice said - Nobody can guess that. - Why, about YOU! - Tweedledee
exclaimed, clapping his hands
triumphantly. - And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you
suppose you'd be?
- Where I am now, of course, - said Alice.
- Not you! - Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. - You'd be nowhere.
Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream!
- If that there King was to wake, - added Tweedledum, - you'd go out
- bang! - just like a candle!
- I shouldn't! - Alice exclaimed indignantly. - Besides, if I'M only
a sort of thing in his dream, what are YOU, I should like to know?
- Ditto - said Tweedledum.
- Ditto, ditto - cried Tweedledee. He shouted this so loud that Alice
couldn't help saying, - Hush!
You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise.
- Well, it no use YOUR talking about waking him, - said Tweedledum, -
when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're
not real.
- I AM real! - said Alice and began to cry.
- You won't make yourself a bit realler by crying, - Tweedledee
remarked: - there's nothing to cry about.
- If I wasn't real, - Alice said - half-laughing though her tears, it
all seemed so ridiculous - I shouldn't be able to cry.
- I hope you don't suppose those are real tears? - Tweedledum
interrupted in a tone of great contempt.
- I know they're talking nonsense, - Alice thought to herself: - and
it's foolish to cry about it. - So she brushed away her tears, and went on
as cheerfully as she could. - At any rate I'd better be getting out of the
wood, for really it's coming on very dark. Do you think it's going to
rain?
Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and
looked up into it. - No, I don't think it is, - he said: - at least - not
under HERE. Nohow.
- But it may rain OUTSIDE?
- It may - if it chooses, - said Tweedledee: - we've no objection.
Contrariwise.
- Selfish things! - thought Alice, and she was just going to say -
Good-night - and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the
umbrella and seized her by the wrist.
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