children's writing

    Zoom text

previous

Alice in Wonderland

Lewis Carroll
 
biography
 
It’s a hot day and Alice is sitting next to her sister who is reading. She is bored and getting sleepy when she sees a white rabbit run past. When she sees it take a watch out of its waistcoat pocket, her curiosity is aroused and she follows it.

After a series of adventures in which she meets various strange animals and eats and drinks various things that make her shrink and grow alternately, she finds herself just a few inches tall and out in a garden.
 
[…]She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or anything else.

Chapter V Advice from a Caterpillar

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.

‘Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, ‘I -I hardly know, sir, just at present - at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ said the Caterpillar sternly. ‘Explain yourself!’

‘I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir’ said Alice, ‘because I'm not myself, you see.’

‘I don't see,’ said the Caterpillar.

‘I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, ‘for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.’

‘It isn't,’ said the Caterpillar.

‘Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet,’ said Alice; ‘but when you have to turn into a chrysalis - you will some day, you know - and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a
little queer, won't you?’

‘Not a bit,’ said the Caterpillar.

‘Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,’ said Alice; ‘all I know is, it would feel very queer to me.’

‘You!’ said the Caterpillar contemptuously. ‘Who are you?’

Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely,
‘I think, you ought to tell me who you are, first.’

‘Why?' said the Caterpillar.

Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away.

‘Come back!’ the Caterpillar called after her. ‘I've something important to say!’

This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again.

‘Keep your temper,’ said the Caterpillar.

‘Is that all?’ said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could.

‘No,’ said the Caterpillar.

Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, ‘So you think you're changed, do you?’

‘I'm afraid I am, sir,'’said Alice; ‘I can't remember things as I used - and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!’

‘Can't remember what things?’ said the Caterpillar.

‘Well, I've tried to say "How Doth the Little Busy Bee," but it all came different!’ Alice replied in a very melancholy voice.

‘Repeat, "You are Old, Father William,"’ said the Caterpillar.

But the poem doesn't come out quite the way Alice has been taught, and she is in for a lot more adventures before things get back to normal.

previous
back to top

search help
home
members' area
register
site map
printer friendly
previous page

Publishers and authors seem to think that the smaller the child, the larger the book must be - for what reason, since their arms are short and their eyesight usually at its best, it is hard to imagine.
Penelope Mortimer

Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
William Wordsworth

a letter from your editor
 
Get Acrobat Reader

Copyright Publishing service Write for Patchword
© Copyright 2000-2007 GEB and contributing authors.
All rights reserved.
Photos and illustrations: GEB.

Patchword is a product of
Tantamount Publishing

Tantamount S.L.
Patchword works in association with Tantamount Publishing to provide full editorial and publishing services:
See services page for details.