Looking-Glass Insects

Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of therncountry she was going to travel through. “It’s something very likernlearning geography,” thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes ofrnbeing able to see a little further. “Principal rivers—there _are_ none.rnPrincipal mountains—I’m on the only one, but I don’t think it’s got anyrnname. Principal towns—why, what _are_ those creatures, making honeyrndown there? They can’t be bees—nobody ever saw bees a mile off, yournknow—” and for some time she stood silent, watching one of them thatrnwas bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them,“just as if it was a regular bee,” thought Alice.rnrnHowever, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was anrnelephant—as Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breathrnaway at first. “And what enormous flowers they must be!” was her nextrnidea. “Something like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks putrnto them—and what quantities of honey they must make! I think I’ll gorndown and—no, I won’t _just_ yet,” she went on, checking herself just asrnshe was beginning to run down the hill, and trying to find some excusernfor turning shy so suddenly. “It’ll never do to go down among themrnwithout a good long branch to brush them away—and what fun it’ll bernwhen they ask me how I like my walk. I shall say—‘Oh, I like it wellrnenough—’” (here came the favourite little toss of the head), “‘only itrnwas so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!’”rnrn“I think I’ll go down the other way,” she said after a pause: “andrnperhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want tornget into the Third Square!”rnrnSo with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first ofrnthe six little brooks.rnrn* * * * * * *rnrn * * * * * *rnrn* * * * * * *rnrnrn“Tickets, please!” said the Guard, putting his head in at the window.rnIn a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about thernsame size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.rnrn“Now then! Show your ticket, child!” the Guard went on, looking angrilyrnat Alice. And a great many voices all said together (“like the chorusrnof a song,” thought Alice), “Don’t keep him waiting, child! Why, hisrntime is worth a thousand pounds a minute!”rnrn“I’m afraid I haven’t got one,” Alice said in a frightened tone: “therernwasn’t a ticket-office where I came from.” And again the chorus ofrnvoices went on. “There wasn’t room for one where she came from. Thernland there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!”rnrn“Don’t make excuses,” said the Guard: “you should have bought one fromrnthe engine-driver.” And once more the chorus of voices went on withrn“The man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth arnthousand pounds a puff!”rnrnAlice thought to herself, “Then there’s no use in speaking.” The voicesrndidn’t join in this time, as she hadn’t spoken, but to her greatrnsurprise, they all _thought_ in chorus (I hope you understand whatrn_thinking in chorus_ means—for I must confess that _I_ don’t), “Betterrnsay nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!”rnrn“I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!”rnthought Alice.rnrnAll this time the Guard was looking at her, first through a telescope,rnthen through a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last hernsaid, “You’re travelling the wrong way,” and shut up the window andrnwent away.rnrn“So young a child,” said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he wasrndressed in white paper), “ought to know which way she’s going, even ifrnshe doesn’t know her own name!”rnrnA Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his eyesrnand said in a loud voice, “She ought to know her way to thernticket-office, even if she doesn’t know her alphabet!”rnrnThere was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queerrncarriage-full of passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to bernthat they should all speak in turn, _he_ went on with “She’ll have torngo back from here as luggage!”rnrnAlice couldn’t see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarsernvoice spoke next. “Change engines—” it said, and was obliged to leavernoff.rnrn“It sounds like a horse,” Alice thought to herself. And an extremelyrnsmall voice, close to her ear, said, “You might make a joke onrnthat—something about ‘horse’ and ‘hoarse,’ you know.”rnrnThen a very gentle voice in the distance said, “She must be labelledrn‘Lass, with care,’ you know—”rnrnAnd after that other voices went on (“What a number of people there arernin the carriage!” thought Alice), saying, “She must go by post, asrnshe’s got a head on her—” “She must be sent as a message by therntelegraph—” “She must draw the train herself the rest of the way—” andrnso on.rnrnBut the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whisperedrnin her ear, “Never mind what they all say, my dear, but take arnreturn-ticket every time the train stops.”rnrn“Indeed I shan’t!” Alice said rather impatiently. “I don’t belong tornthis railway journey at all—I was in a wood just now—and I wish I couldrnget back there.”rnrn“You might make a joke on _that_,” said the little voice close to herrnear: “something about ‘you _would_ if you could,’ you know.”rnrn“Don’t tease so,” said Alice, looking about in vain to see where thernvoice came from; “if you’re so anxious to have a joke made, why don’trnyou make one yourself?”rnrnThe little voice sighed deeply: it was _very_ unhappy, evidently, andrnAlice would have said something pitying to comfort it, “If it wouldrnonly sigh like other people!” she thought. But this was such arnwonderfully small sigh, that she wouldn’t have heard it at all, if itrnhadn’t come _quite_ close to her ear. The consequence of this was thatrnit tickled her ear very much, and quite took off her thoughts from thernunhappiness of the poor little creature.rnrn“I know you are a friend,” the little voice went on; “a dear friend,rnand an old friend. And you won’t hurt me, though I _am_ an insect.”rnrn“What kind of insect?” Alice inquired a little anxiously. What shernreally wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but shernthought this wouldn’t be quite a civil question to ask.rnrn“What, then you don’t—” the little voice began, when it was drowned byrna shrill scream from the engine, and everybody jumped up in alarm,rnAlice among the rest.rnrnThe Horse, who had put his head out of the window, quietly drew it inrnand said, “It’s only a brook we have to jump over.” Everybody seemedrnsatisfied with this, though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea ofrntrains jumping at all. “However, it’ll take us into the Fourth Square,rnthat’s some comfort!” she said to herself. In another moment she feltrnthe carriage rise straight up into the air, and in her fright sherncaught at the thing nearest to her hand, which happened to be thernGoat’s beard.rnrn* * * * * * *rnrn * * * * * *rnrn* * * * * * *rnrnrnBut the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she foundrnherself sitting quietly under a tree—while the Gnat (for that was therninsect she had been talking to) was balancing itself on a twig justrnover her head, and fanning her with its wings.rnrnIt certainly was a _very_ large Gnat: “about the size of a chicken,”rnAlice thought. Still, she couldn’t feel nervous with it, after they hadrnbeen talking together so long.rnrn“—then you don’t like all insects?” the Gnat went on, as quietly as ifrnnothing had happened.rnrn“I like them when they can talk,” Alice said. “None of them ever talk,rnwhere _I_ come from.”rnrn“What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where _you_ come from?” thernGnat inquired.rnrn“I don’t _rejoice_ in insects at all,” Alice explained, “because I’mrnrather afraid of them—at least the large kinds. But I can tell you thernnames of some of them.”rnrn“Of course they answer to their names?” the Gnat remarked carelessly.rnrn“I never knew them to do it.”rnrn“What’s the use of their having names,” the Gnat said, “if they won’trnanswer to them?”rnrn“No use to _them_,” said Alice; “but it’s useful to the people who namernthem, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?”rnrn“I can’t say,” the Gnat replied. “Further on, in the wood down there,rnthey’ve got no names—however, go on with your list of insects: you’rernwasting time.”rnrn“Well, there’s the Horse-fly,” Alice began, counting off the names onrnher fingers.rnrn“All right,” said the Gnat: “half way up that bush, you’ll see arnRocking-horse-fly, if you look. It’s made entirely of wood, and getsrnabout by swinging itself from branch to branch.”rnrn“What does it live on?” Alice asked, with great curiosity.rnrn“Sap and sawdust,” said the Gnat. “Go on with the list.”rnrnAlice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and madernup her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so brightrnand sticky; and then she went on.rnrn“And there’s the Dragon-fly.”rnrn“Look on the branch above your head,” said the Gnat, “and there you’llrnfind a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings ofrnholly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.”rnrn“And what does it live on?”rnrn“Frumenty and mince pie,” the Gnat replied; “and it makes its nest in arnChristmas box.”rnrn“And then there’s the Butterfly,” Alice went on, after she had taken arngood look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought tornherself, “I wonder if that’s the reason insects are so fond of flyingrninto candles—because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!”rnrn“Crawling at your feet,” said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back inrnsome alarm), “you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thinrnslices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lumprnof sugar.”rnrn“And what does _it_ live on?”rnrn“Weak tea with cream in it.”rnrnA new difficulty came into Alice’s head. “Supposing it couldn’t findrnany?” she suggested.rnrn“Then it would die, of course.”rnrn“But that must happen very often,” Alice remarked thoughtfully.rnrn“It always happens,” said the Gnat.rnrnAfter this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnatrnamused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last itrnsettled again and remarked, “I suppose you don’t want to lose yourrnname?”rnrn“No, indeed,” Alice said, a little anxiously.rnrn“And yet I don’t know,” the Gnat went on in a careless tone: “onlyrnthink how convenient it would be if you could manage to go home withoutrnit! For instance, if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons,rnshe would call out ‘come here—,’ and there she would have to leave off,rnbecause there wouldn’t be any name for her to call, and of course yournwouldn’t have to go, you know.”rnrn“That would never do, I’m sure,” said Alice: “the governess would neverrnthink of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldn’t remember myrnname, she’d call me ‘Miss!’ as the servants do.”rnrn“Well, if she said ‘Miss,’ and didn’t say anything more,” the Gnatrnremarked, “of course you’d miss your lessons. That’s a joke. I wishrn_you_ had made it.”rnrn“Why do you wish _I_ had made it?” Alice asked. “It’s a very bad one.”rnrnBut the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rollingrndown its cheeks.rnrn“You shouldn’t make jokes,” Alice said, “if it makes you so unhappy.”rnrnThen came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time thernpoor Gnat really seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when Alicernlooked up, there was nothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, asrnshe was getting quite chilly with sitting still so long, she got up andrnwalked on.rnrnShe very soon came to an open field, with a wood on the other side ofrnit: it looked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a _little_rntimid about going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up herrnmind to go on: “for I certainly won’t go _back_,” she thought tornherself, and this was the only way to the Eighth Square.rnrn“This must be the wood,” she said thoughtfully to herself, “wherernthings have no names. I wonder what’ll become of _my_ name when I gornin? I shouldn’t like to lose it at all—because they’d have to give mernanother, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then thernfun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old name!rnThat’s just like the advertisements, you know, when people loserndogs—‘_answers to the name of “Dash:” had on a brass collar_’—justrnfancy calling everything you met ‘Alice,’ till one of them answered!rnOnly they wouldn’t answer at all, if they were wise.”rnrnShe was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it lookedrnvery cool and shady. “Well, at any rate it’s a great comfort,” she saidrnas she stepped under the trees, “after being so hot, to get intornthe—into _what_?” she went on, rather surprised at not being able tornthink of the word. “I mean to get under the—under the—under _this_, yournknow!” putting her hand on the trunk of the tree. “What _does_ it callrnitself, I wonder? I do believe it’s got no name—why, to be sure itrnhasn’t!”rnrnShe stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again.“Then it really _has_ happened, after all! And now, who am I? I _will_rnremember, if I can! I’m determined to do it!” But being determinedrndidn’t help much, and all she could say, after a great deal ofrnpuzzling, was, “L, I _know_ it begins with L!”rnrnJust then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its largerngentle eyes, but didn’t seem at all frightened. “Here then! Here then!”rnAlice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but itrnonly started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.rnrn“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweetrnvoice it had!rnrn“I wish I knew!” thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly,“Nothing, just now.”rnrn“Think again,” it said: “that won’t do.”rnrnAlice thought, but nothing came of it. “Please, would you tell me whatrn_you_ call yourself?” she said timidly. “I think that might help arnlittle.”rnrn“I’ll tell you, if you’ll move a little further on,” the Fawn said. “Irncan’t remember here.”rnrnSo they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms claspedrnlovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out intornanother open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air,rnand shook itself free from Alice’s arms. “I’m a Fawn!” it cried out inrna voice of delight, “and, dear me! you’re a human child!” A sudden lookrnof alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment itrnhad darted away at full speed.rnrnAlice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation atrnhaving lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. “However, Irnknow my name now.” she said, “that’s _some_ comfort. Alice—Alice—Irnwon’t forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I tornfollow, I wonder?”rnrnIt was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only onernroad through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it.“I’ll settle it,” Alice said to herself, “when the road divides andrnthey point different ways.”rnrnBut this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way,rnbut wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-postsrnpointing the same way, one marked “TO TWEEDLEDUM’S HOUSE” and the otherrn“TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.”rnrn“I do believe,” said Alice at last, “that they live in the same house!rnI wonder I never thought of that before—But I can’t stay there long.rnI’ll just call and say ‘how d’you do?’ and ask them the way out of thernwood. If I could only get to the Eighth Square before it gets dark!” Sornshe wandered on, talking to herself as she went, till, on turning arnsharp corner, she came upon two fat little men, so suddenly that sherncould not help starting back, but in another moment she recoveredrnherself, feeling sure that they must be.