Lewis Carroll in Wonderland and at Home Part 13

"I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear.

Then comes the sad and sober part of the tale, when the _Oysters_ were tempted to stroll along the beach, in company with these wily two, who lured them far away from their snug ocean beds.

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 s.h.i.+ps, 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."

Then the _Oysters_ became terrified, as they saw all these grewsome preparations, and their fate loomed up before them. So the two old weeping hypocrites sat on the rocks and calmly devoured their late companions.

"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 b.u.t.ter'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 this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one.

The poor dear little _Oysters_! How any little girl, with a heart under her pinafore, could read these lines unmoved it is hard to say. Think of those innocent young dears, standing before these dreadful ogres.

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.

All the same, Tenniel has made most attractive pictures of them, feet and all. And think--oh, horror! of _their_ supplying the treat! It was indeed an awful tragedy. Yet behind it all there lurks some fun, though Lewis Carroll was too clever to let us _quite_ into his secret. All the young ones want is the story, but those who are old enough to love their d.i.c.kens and to look for his special characters outside of his books will certainly recognize in the _Walrus_ the hypocritical _Mr. Pecksniff_, whose tears flowed on every occasion when he was not otherwise employed in robbing his victims, and other little pleasantries. And as for the _Carpenter_, there is something very scholarly in the set of his cap and the combing of his scant locks; possibly a caricature of some s.h.i.+ning light of Oxford, for we know there were many in his books. Indeed, the whole poem may be something of an allegory, representing examination; the _Oysters_, the undergraduate victims before the college faculty (the _Walrus_ and the _Carpenter_) who are just ready to "eat 'em alive"--poor innocent undergraduates!

But whatever the hidden meaning, _Tweedledum_ and _Tweedledee_ were not the sort of people to look deep into things, and _Alice_, being a little girl and very partial to oysters, thought the _Walrus_ and the _Carpenter_ were _very_ unpleasant characters and had no sympathy with them at all.

Dreaming by a ruddy blaze in a big armchair keeps one much busier than if one fell asleep in a rocking boat or on the river bank on a golden summer day.

The scenes and all the company changed so often in Looking-Gla.s.s Land that _Alice_ had all she could do to keep pace with her adventures. For you see all this time she was only a p.a.w.n, moving over an immense chess-board from square to square, until in the end she should be made queen. The _White Queen_ whom _Alice_ met shortly was a very lopsided person, quite unlike the _Red Queen_, who was neat enough no matter how sharp her tongue.

_Alice_ had to fix her hair, and straighten her shawl, and set her right and tidy.

"Really, you should have a lady's maid," she remarked.

"I'm sure I'll take _you_ with pleasure," the Queen said. "Twopence a week, and jam every other day."

Alice couldn't help laughing as she said:

"I don't want you to hire _me_, and I don't care for jam."

"It's very good jam," said the Queen.

"Well, I don't want any _to-day_ at any rate."

"You couldn't have it if you _did_ want it," the Queen said. "The rule is--jam to-morrow and jam yesterday, but never jam _to-day_."

"It _must_ come sometimes to 'jam to-day,'" Alice objected.

"No, it can't," said the Queen. "It's jam every other day; to-day isn't any _other_ day, you know."

"I don't understand you," said Alice. "It's dreadfully confusing!"

"That's the effect of living backwards," the Queen said, kindly. "It always makes one a little giddy at first--"

"Living backwards!" Alice remarked in great astonishment. "I never heard of such a thing!"

"But there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both ways."

"I'm sure _mine_ only works one way," Alice remarked. "I can't remember things before they happen."

"It's a poor memory that only works backwards," the Queen remarked.

"What sort of things do _you_ remember best?" Alice ventured to ask.

"Oh, the things that happened the week after next," the Queen replied in a careless tone. "For instance, now," she went on, sticking a large piece of plaster on her finger as she spoke, "there's the king's messenger. He's in prison now, being punished, and the trial doesn't begin till next Wednesday; and of course the crime comes last of all." Then the _Queen_ for further ill.u.s.tration began to scream--

"Oh, oh, oh!" shouted the Queen.... "My finger's bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!"

Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam engine that Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.

"What _is_ the matter?" she said.... "Have you p.r.i.c.ked your finger?"

"I haven't p.r.i.c.ked it yet," the Queen said, "but I soon shall--oh, oh, oh!"

"When do you expect to do it?" Alice asked, feeling very much inclined to laugh.

"When I fasten my shawl again," the poor Queen groaned out, "the brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!" As she said the words the brooch flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it and tried to clasp it again.

"Take care!" cried Alice, "you're holding it all crooked!" and she caught at the brooch; but it was too late; the pin had slipped, and the Queen had p.r.i.c.ked her finger.

"That accounts for the bleeding, you see," she said to Alice, with a smile. "Now you understand the way things happen here."

_Alice's_ meeting with _Humpty-Dumpty_ in the sixth square has gone down in history. It has been played in nurseries and in private theatricals, and many ingenious Humpty-Dumptys have been fas.h.i.+oned by clever people.

Possibly the dear old rhyme which generations of childhood have handed about as a riddle is responsible for our great interest in _Humpty-Dumpty_.

Humpty-Dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall, All the King's horses and all the King's men, Couldn't put Humpty-Dumpty in his place again.

This is an old version, but modern children have made a better ending, thus:

Couldn't put Humpty-Dumpty up again.