"I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story."
"I'm afraid I don't know one," said Alice, rather alarmed at the proposal.
"Then the Dormouse shall!" they both cried.
"Wake up, Dormouse!" And they pinched it on both sides at once.
The Dormouse slowly opened its eyes. "I wasn't asleep," it said in a hoarse, feeble voice, "I heard every word you fellows were saying."
"Tell us a story!" said the March Hare.
"Yes, please do!" pleaded Alice.
"And be quick about it," added the Hatter, "or you'll be asleep again before it's done."
"Once upon a time there were three little sisters," the Dormouse began in a great hurry, "and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well--"
"What did they live on?" said Alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking.
"They lived on treacle," said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.
"They couldn't have done that, you know," Alice gently remarked: "they'd have been ill."
"So they were," said the Dormouse, "_very_ ill."
Alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: "But why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't take more."
"You mean you can't take _less_," said the Hatter: "It's very easy to take _more_ than nothing."
"Nobody asked _your_ opinion," said Alice.
"Who's making personal remarks now?" the Hatter asked triumphantly.
Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and repeated her question. "Why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said: "It was a treacle-well."
"There's no such thing!" Alice was beginning very angrily, but the Hatter and the March Hare went "Sh! Sh!" and the Dormouse sulkily remarked: "If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for yourself."
"No, please go on!" Alice said, very humbly, "I won't interrupt you again. I dare say there may be _one_."
"One, indeed!" said the Dormouse, indignantly. However it consented to go on. "And so these three little sisters--they were learning to draw, you know--"
"What did they draw?" said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.
"Treacle," said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.
"I want a clean cup," interrupted the Hatter, "let's all move one place on."
He moved as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice, rather unwillingly, took the place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk jug into his plate.
Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very cautiously: "But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle from?"
"You can draw water out of a water-well," said the Hatter; "so I should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well--eh stupid?"
"But they were _in_ the well," Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing to notice this last remark.
"Of course they were," said the Dormouse,--"well in."
This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for some time without interrupting it.
"They were learning to draw," the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; "and they drew all manner of things--everything that begins with an M--"
"Why with an M?" said Alice.
"Why not?" said the March Hare.
Alice was silent.
The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a doze, but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a little shriek, and went on, "--that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness--you know you say things are 'much of a muchness'--did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?"
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think--"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.
This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great disgust, and walked off: the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.
LEWIS CARROLL: "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland."
THE SLAVE'S DREAM
Beside the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams The lordly Niger flowed; Beneath the palm trees on the plain Once more a king he strode; And heard the tinkling caravans Descend the mountain road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen Among her children stand; They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, They held him by the hand!-- A tear burst from the sleeper's lids And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode Along the Niger's bank; His bridle-reins were golden chains, And, with a martial clank, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag, The bright flamingoes flew; From morn till night he followed their flight, O'er plains where the tamarind grew, Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts, And the ocean rose to view.