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’m 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 prose-
cute you.
Come, I'll
take no de-
nial; We
must have
a trial:
For really
this morn-
ing I've
nothing
to do."
Said the
mouse to
the cur,
"Such a
trial, dear
Sir, With
no jury
or judge,
would
be wast-
ing our
breath."
"I'll be
judge,
I'll be
jury,"
Said
cun-
ning
old
Fury:
"I'll
try
the
whole
cause,
and
con-
demn
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.
This text is in the public domain.
|
