THE END.

"Of course," the Mock Turtle said, "advance twice, set to partners—"

"Change lobsters, and retire in same order—" interrupted the Gryphon.

"Then, you know," continued the Mock Turtle, "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, "and then—"

"That's all," said the Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping its 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.

"It must be a very pretty dance," said Alice timidly.

"Would you like to see a little of it?" said the Mock Turtle.

"Very much indeed," said Alice.

"Come, let's try the first figure!" said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon, "we can doit without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?"

"Oh!yousing!" said the Gryphon, "I've forgotten the words."

So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they came too close, and waving their fore-paws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang, slowly and sadly, these words:

"Beneath the waters of the seaAre lobsters thick as thick can be—They love to dance with you and me,My own, my gentle Salmon!"

The Gryphon joined in singing the chorus, which was:

"Salmon come up! Salmon go down!Salmon come twist your tail around!Of all the fishesofthe seaThere's none so good as Salmon!"

"Thank you," said Alice, feeling very glad that the figure was over.

"Shall we try the second figure?" said the Gryphon, "or would you prefer a song?"

"Oh, a song, please!" Alice replied, so eagerly, that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, "hm! no accounting for tastes! Sing her 'Mock Turtle Soup', will you, old fellow!"

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this:

"Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,Waiting in a hot tureen!Who for such dainties would not stoop?Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,Beautiful beautiful Soup!

"Chorus again!" cried the Gryphon, andthe Mock Turtle had just begun to repeat it, when a cry of "the trial's beginning!" was heard in the distance.

"Come on!" cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, he hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.

"What trial is it?" panted Alice as she ran, but the Gryphon only answered "come on!" and ran the faster, and more and more faintly came, borne on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:

"Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,Beautiful beautiful Soup!"

The King and Queen were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled around them: the Knave was in custody: and before the King stood the white rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other.

"Herald! read the accusation!" said the King.

On this the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:

"The Queen of Hearts she made some tartsAll on a summer day:The Knave of Hearts he stole those tarts,And took them quite away!"

"Now for the evidence," said the King, "and then the sentence."

"No!" said the Queen, "first the sentence, and then the evidence!"

"Nonsense!" cried Alice, so loudly that everybody jumped, "the idea of having the sentence first!"

"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen.

"I won't!" said Alice, "you're nothing but a pack of cards! Who cares for you?"

At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her: she gave a little scream of fright, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some leaves that had fluttered down from the trees on to her face.

"Wake up! Alice dear!" said her sister, "what a nice long sleep you've had!"

"Oh, I've had such a curious dream!" said Alice, and she told her sister all her Adventures Under Ground, as you have read them, and when she had finished, her sister kissed her and said "itwasa curious dream, dear, certainly! But now run in to your tea: it's getting late."

So Alice ran off, thinking while she ran (as well she might) what a wonderful dream it had been.

But her sister sat there some while longer, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and her Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream:

She saw an ancient city, and a quiet river winding near it along the plain, and up the stream went slowly gliding a boat with a merry party of children on board—she could hear their voices and laughter like music over the water—and among them was another little Alice, who sat listening with bright eager eyes to a tale that was being told, and she listened for the words of the tale, and lo! it was the dreamof her own little sister. So the boat wound slowly along, beneath the bright summer-day, with its merry crew and its music of voices and laughter, till it passed round one of the many turnings of the stream, and she saw it no more.

Then she thought, (in a dream within the dream, as it were,) how this same little Alice would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman: and how she would keep, through her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather around her other little children, and maketheireyes bright and eager with many a wonderful tale, perhaps even with these very adventures of the little Alice of long-ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

happy summer days.

The profits, if any, of this book will be given to Children's Hospitals and Convalescent Homes for Sick Children; and the accounts, down to June 30 in each year, will be published in the St. James's Gazette, on the second Tuesday of the following December.

P.P.S.—The thought, so prettily expressed by the little boy, is also to be found in Longfellow's "Hiawatha," where he appeals to those who believe

"That the feeble hands and helpless,Groping blindly in the darkness,TouchGod'sright hand in that darkness,And are lifted up and strengthened."

So questions one of England's sweetest singers. The "How?" has already been told, after a fashion, in the verses prefixed to "Alice in Wonderland"; and some other memories of that happy summer day are set down, for those who care to see them, in this little book—the germ that was to grow into the published volume. But the "Why?" cannot, and need not, be put into words. Those for whom a child's mind is a sealed book, and who see no divinity in a child's smile, would read such words in vain: while for any one that has ever loved one true child, no words are needed. For he will have known the awe that falls on one in the presence of a spirit fresh fromGod'shands, on whom no shadow of sin, and but the outermost fringe of the shadow of sorrow, has yet fallen: he will have felt the bitter contrast between the haunting selfishness that spoils his best deeds and the life that is but an overflowing love—for I think a child'sfirstattitude to the world is a simple love for all living things: and he will have learned that the best work a man can do is when he works for love's sake only, with no thought of name, or gain, or earthly reward. No deed of ours, I suppose, on this side the grave, is really unselfish: yet if one can put forth all one's powers in a task where nothing of reward is hoped for but a little child's whispered thanks, and the airy touch of a little child's pure lips, one seems to come somewhere near to this.

There was no idea of publication in my mind when I wrote this little book: thatwas wholly an afterthought, pressed on me by the "perhaps too partial friends" who always have to bear the blame when a writer rushes into print: and I can truly say that no praise of theirs has ever given me one hundredth part of the pleasure it has been to think of the sick children in hospitals (where it has been a delight to me to send copies) forgetting, for a few bright hours, their pain and weariness—perhaps thinking lovingly of the unknown writer of the tale—perhaps even putting up a childish prayer (and oh, how much it needs!) for one who can but dimly hope to stand, some day, not quite out of sight of those pure young faces, before the great white throne. "I am very sure," writes a lady-visitor at a Home for Sick Children, "that there will be many loving earnest prayers for you on Easter morning from the children."

I would like to quote further from her letters, as embodying a suggestion that may perhaps thus come to the notice of some one able and willing to carry it out.

"I want you to send me one of your Easter Greetings for a very dear child who is dying at our Home. She is just fading away, and 'Alice' has brightened some of the weary hours in her illness, and I know that letter would be such a delight to her—especially if you would put 'Minnie' at the top, and she could know you had sent it for her.Sheknowsyou,and would so value it.... She suffers so much that I long for what I know would so please her." ... "Thank you very much for sending me the letter, and for writing Minnie's name.... I am quite sure that all these children will say a loving prayer for the 'Alice-man' on Easter Day: and I am sure the letter will help the little ones to the real Easter joy. How I do wish that you, who have won the hearts and confidence of so many children, would do for them what is so very near my heart, and yet what no one will do, viz. write a book for children aboutGodand themselves, which isnotgoody, and which begins at the right end, about religion, to make them see what it really is. I get quite miserable very often over the children I come across: hardly any of them have an idea ofreallyknowing thatGodloves them, or of loving and confiding in Him. They will love and trustme,and be sure that I want them to be happy, and will not let them suffer more than is necessary: but as for going to Him in the same way, they would never think of it. They are dreadfully afraid of Him, if they think of Him at all, which they generally only do when they have been naughty, and they look on all connected with Him as very grave and dull: and, when they are full of fun and thoroughly happy, I am sure they unconsciously hope He is not looking. I am sure I don't wonder they think of Him in this way, for peoplenevertalk of Him in connection with what makes their little lives the brightest. If they are naughty, people put on solemn faces, and say He is very angry or shocked, or something which frightens them: and, for the rest, He is talked about only in a way that makes them think of church and having to be quiet. As for being taught that all Joy and all Gladness and Brightness is His Joy—that He is wearying for them to be happy, and is not hard and stern, but always doing things to make their days brighter, and caring for them so tenderly, and wanting them to run to Him withalltheir little joys and sorrows, they are not taught that. I do so long to make them trust Him as they trust us, to feel that He will 'take their part' as they do with us in their little woes, and to go to Him in their plays and enjoyments and not only when they say their prayers. I was quite grateful to one little dot, a short time ago, who said to his mother 'when I am in bed, I put out my hand to see if I can feelJesusand my angel. I thought perhapsin the darkthey'd touch me, but they never have yet.' I do so want them towantto go to Him, and to feel how, if He is there, itmustbe happy."

Let me add—for I feel I have drifted into far too serious a vein for a preface to a fairy-tale—the deliciously naïve remark of a very dear child-friend, whom I asked, after an acquaintance of two or three days, if she had read 'Alice' and the 'Looking-Glass.' "Oh yes," she replied readily, "I've read both of them! And I think" (this more slowly and thoughtfully) "I think 'Through the Looking-Glass' ismorestupid than 'Alice's Adventures.' Don'tyouthink so?" But this was a question I felt it would be hardly discreet for me to enter upon.

LEWIS CARROLL.

Dec.1886.

Dear Child,

Please to fancy, if you can, that you are reading a real letter, from a real friend whom you have seen, and whose voice you can seem to yourself to hear wishing you, as I do now with all my heart, a happy Easter.

Do you know that delicious dreamy feeling when one first wakes on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and the fresh breeze coming in at the open window—when, lying lazily with eyes half shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving, or waters rippling in a golden light? It is a pleasure very near to sadness, bringing tears to one's eyes like a beautiful picture or poem. And is not that a Mother's gentle hand that undraws your curtains, and a Mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise? To rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark—to rise and enjoy another happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen Friend, who sends you the beautiful sun?

Are these strange words from a writer of such tales as "Alice"? And is this a strange letter to find in a book of nonsense? It may be so. Some perhaps may blame me for thus mixing together things grave and gay; others may smile and think it odd that any one should speak of solemn things at all, except in church and on a Sunday: but I think—nay, I am sure—that some children will read this gently and lovingly, and in the spirit in which I have written it.

For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two halves—to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a week-day. Do you think He cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only tones of prayer—and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children, as they roll among the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the "dim religious light" of some solemn cathedral?

And if I have written anything to add to those stores of innocent and healthy amusement that are laid up in books for the children I love so well, it is surely something I may hope to look back upon without shame and sorrow (as how much of life must then be recalled!) whenmyturn comes to walk through the valley of shadows.

This Easter sun will rise on you, dear child, feeling your "life in every limb," and eager to rush out into the fresh morning air—and many an Easter-day will come and go, before it finds you feeble and gray-headed, creeping wearily out to bask once more in the sunlight—but it is good, even now, to think sometimes of that great morning when the "Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in his wings."

Surely your gladness need not be the less for the thought that you will one day see a brighter dawn than this—when lovelier sights will meet your eyes than any waving trees or rippling waters—when angel-hands shall undraw your curtains, and sweeter tones than ever loving Mother breathed shall wake you to a new and glorious day—and when all the sadness, and the sin, that darkened life on this little earth, shall be forgotten like the dreams of a night that is past!

Your affectionate friend,

LEWIS CARROLL.

Easter, 1876.

Lady dear, if Fairies mayFor a moment lay asideCunning tricks and elfish play,'Tis at happy Christmas-tide.We have heard the children say—Gentle children, whom we love—Long ago, on Christmas Day,Came a message from above.Still, as Christmas-tide comes round,They remember it again—Echo still the joyful sound"Peace on earth, good-will to men!"Yet the hearts must childlike beWhere such heavenly guests abide:Unto children, in their glee,All the year is Christmas-tide!Thus, forgetting tricks and playFor a moment, Lady dear,We would wish you, if we may,Merry Christmas, glad New Year!

Lady dear, if Fairies mayFor a moment lay asideCunning tricks and elfish play,'Tis at happy Christmas-tide.

We have heard the children say—Gentle children, whom we love—Long ago, on Christmas Day,Came a message from above.

Still, as Christmas-tide comes round,They remember it again—Echo still the joyful sound"Peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Yet the hearts must childlike beWhere such heavenly guests abide:Unto children, in their glee,All the year is Christmas-tide!

Thus, forgetting tricks and playFor a moment, Lady dear,We would wish you, if we may,Merry Christmas, glad New Year!

LEWIS CARROLL.

Christmas, 1867.

ALICE'S ADVENTURESINWONDERLAND.With Forty-two Illustrations byTenniel. (First published in 1865.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, price 6s.Seventy-eighth Thousand.

AVENTURES D'ALICE AU PAYS DES MERVEILLES.Traduit de l'Anglais par Henri Bué. Ouvrage illustré de 42 Vignettes parJohn Tenniel. (First published in 1869.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, price 6s.

Alice's Abenteuer im Wunderland.Aus dem Englischen, von Antonie Zimmermann. Mitt 42 Illustrationen von John Tenniel.(First published in 1869.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, price 6s.

LE AVVENTURE D'ALICE NEL PAESE DELLE MERAVIGLIE.Tradotte dall' Inglese daT. Pietrocòla-Rossetti. Con 42 Vignette diGiovanni Tenniel. (First published in 1872.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, price 6s.

THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS AND WHAT ALICE FOUND THERE.With Fifty Illustrations byTenniel. (First published in 1871.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, price 6s.Fifty sixth Thousand.

RHYME? AND REASON?With Sixty-five Illustrations byArthur B. Frost, and Nine byHenry Holiday. (This book, first published in 1883, is a reprint, with a few additions, of the comic portion of "Phantasmagoria and other Poems," published in 1869, and of "The Hunting of the Snark," published in 1876. Mr. Frost's pictures are new.) Crown 8vo, cloth, coloured edges, price 6s.Fifth Thousand.

A TANGLED TALE.Reprinted fromThe Monthly Packet. With Six Illustrations byArthur B. Frost. (First published in 1885.) Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 4s.6d.Third Thousand.

THE GAME OF LOGIC.(With an Envelope containing a card diagram and nine counters—four red and five grey.) Crown 8vo, cloth, price 3s.

N.B.—The Envelope, etc., may be had separately at 3d.each.

ALICE'S ADVENTURES UNDER GROUND.Being a Facsimile of the original MS. Book, afterwards developed into "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." With Thirty-seven Illustrations by the Author. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt edges. 4s.

THE NURSERY ALICE.A selection of twenty of the pictures in "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," enlarged and coloured under the Artist's superintendence, with explanations. [In preparation.

N.B. In selling the above-mentioned books to the Trade, Messrs. Macmillan and Co. will abate 2d.in the shilling (no odd copies), and allow 5 per cent. discount for payment within six months, and 10 per cent. for cash. In selling them to the Public (for cash only) they will allow 10 per cent. discount.

Mr. Lewis Carroll, having been requested to allow "An Easter Greeting" (a leaflet, addressed to children, first published in 1876, and frequently given with his books) to be sold separately, has arranged with Messrs. Harrison, of 59, Pall Mall, who will supply a single copy for 1d., or 12 for 9d., or 100 for 5s.

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Transcriber's Note:This e-book has been transcribed from a facsimile of the original handwritten MS. of Lewis Carroll. Images of some of the pages is given on line to give a feeling of the MS. to the reader.This html file with cursive fonts to imitate the handwriting, is provided for the benefit of the reader.

Transcriber's Note:

This e-book has been transcribed from a facsimile of the original handwritten MS. of Lewis Carroll. Images of some of the pages is given on line to give a feeling of the MS. to the reader.

This html file with cursive fonts to imitate the handwriting, is provided for the benefit of the reader.

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