CHAPTER 3 Looking-Glass Insects
Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the
country she was going to travel through. 'It's something very like
learning geography,' thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes of
being able to see a little further. 'Principal rivers--there ARE none.
Principal mountains--I'm on the only one, but I don't think it's got any
name. Principal towns--why, what ARE those creatures, making honey down
there? They can't be bees--nobody ever saw bees a mile off, you know--'
and for some time she stood silent, watching one of them that was
bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them, 'just
as if it was a regular bee,' thought Alice.
However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an
elephant--as Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath
away at first. 'And what enormous flowers they must be!' was her next
idea. 'Something like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put
to them--and what quantities of honey they must make! I think I'll go
down and--no, I won't JUST yet,' 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. 'It'll never do to go down among them
without a good long branch to brush them away--and what fun it'll be
when they ask me how I like my walk. I shall say--"Oh, I like it well
enough--"' (here came the favourite little toss of the head), '"only it
was so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!"'
'I think I'll go down the other way,' she said after a pause: 'and
perhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get
into the Third Square!'
So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of
the six little brooks.
'Tickets, please!' 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.
'Now then! Show your ticket, child!' the Guard went on, looking angrily
at Alice. And a great many voices all said together ('like the chorus of
a song,' thought Alice), 'Don't keep him waiting, child! Why, his time
is worth a thousand pounds a minute!'
'I'm afraid I haven't got one,' Alice said in a frightened tone: 'there
wasn't a ticket-office where I came from.' And again the chorus of
voices went on. 'There wasn't room for one where she came from. The land
there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!'
'Don't make excuses,' said the Guard: 'you should have bought one from
the engine-driver.' And once more the chorus of voices went on with 'The
man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a thousand
pounds a puff!'
Alice thought to herself, 'Then there's no use in speaking.' The
voices didn't join in this time, as she hadn't spoken, but to her
great surprise, they all THOUGHT in chorus (I hope you understand what
THINKING IN CHORUS means--for I must confess that _I_ don't), 'Better
say nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!'
'I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!' 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, 'You're travelling the wrong way,' and shut up the window and went
away.
'So young a child,' said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he was
dressed in white paper), 'ought to know which way she's going, even if
she doesn't know her own name!'
A Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his
eyes and said in a loud voice, 'She ought to know her way to the
ticket-office, even if she doesn't know her alphabet!'
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 'She'll have to go
back from here as luggage!'
Alice couldn't see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse voice
spoke next. 'Change engines--' it said, and was obliged to leave off.
'It sounds like a horse,' Alice thought to herself. And an extremely
small voice, close to her ear, said, 'You might make a joke on
that--something about "horse" and "hoarse," you know.'
Then a very gentle voice in the distance said, 'She must be labelled
"Lass, with care," you know--'
And after that other voices went on ('What a number of people there are
in the carriage!' thought Alice), saying, 'She must go by post, as she's
got a head on her--' 'She must be sent as a message by the telegraph--'
'She must draw the train herself the rest of the way--' and so on.
But the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered
in her ear, 'Never mind what they all say, my dear, but take a
return-ticket every time the train stops.'
'Indeed I shan't!' Alice said rather impatiently. 'I don't belong to
this railway journey at all--I was in a wood just now--and I wish I
could get back there.'
'You might make a joke on THAT,' said the little voice close to her ear:
'something about "you WOULD if you could," you know.'
'Don't tease so,' said Alice, looking about in vain to see where the
voice came from; 'if you're so anxious to have a joke made, why don't
you make one yourself?'
The little voice sighed deeply: it was VERY unhappy, evidently, and
Alice would have said something pitying to comfort it, 'If it would only
sigh like other people!' she thought. But this was such a wonderfully
small sigh, that she wouldn't have heard it at all, if it hadn't 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.
'I know you are a friend,' the little voice went on; 'a dear friend, and
an old friend. And you won't hurt me, though I AM an insect.'
'What kind of insect?' Alice inquired a little anxiously. What she
really wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but she
thought this wouldn't be quite a civil question to ask.
'What, then you don't--' 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, 'It's only a brook we have to jump over.' Everybody seemed
satisfied with this, though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea of
trains jumping at all. 'However, it'll take us into the Fourth Square,
that's some comfort!' 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 Goat's beard.
But the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she found
herself sitting quietly under a tree--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: 'about the size of a chicken,' Alice
thought. Still, she couldn't feel nervous with it, after they had been
talking together so long.
'--then you don't like all insects?' the Gnat went on, as quietly as if
nothing had happened.
'I like them when they can talk,' Alice said. 'None of them ever talk,
where _I_ come from.'
'What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where YOU come from?' the Gnat
inquired.
'I don't REJOICE in insects at all,' Alice explained, 'because I'm
rather afraid of them--at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the
names of some of them.'
'Of course they answer to their names?' the Gnat remarked carelessly.
'I never knew them to do it.'
'What's the use of their having names,' the Gnat said, 'if they won't
answer to them?'
'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 its 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 call, 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 now, 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 she 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, if 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 at 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 to 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.
End of Chapter 3