Chapter VII: The Lion and the Unicorn

“I’ve sent them all!” the King cried in a tone of delight, on seeingAlice. “Did you happen to meet any soldiers, my dear, as you camethrough the wood?”

“I only wish I had such eyes,” the King remarked in a fretful tone.“To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it’s as muchas I can do to see real people, by this light!”

“He can’t do that,” said the King, “or else he’d have been here first.However, now you’ve got your breath, you may tell us what’s happened inthe town.”

“Do you call that a whisper?” cried the poor King, jumping up andshaking himself. “If you do such a thing again, I’ll have you buttered!It went through and through my head like an earthquake!”

“The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the crown:The Lion beat the Unicorn all round the town.Some gave them white bread, some gave them brown;Some gave them plum-cake and drummed them out of town.”

“Then I suppose they’ll soon bring the white bread and the brown?”Alice ventured to remark.

“I don’t think they’ll fight any more to-day,” the King said to Hatta:“go and order the drums to begin.” And Hatta went bounding away like agrasshopper.

Haigha took a large cake out of the bag, and gave it to Alice to hold,while he got out a dish and carving-knife. How they all came out of itAlice couldn’t guess. It was just like a conjuring-trick, she thought.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” the Lion growled out as he lay down again.“There was too much dust to see anything. What a time the Monster is,cutting up that cake!”

“If that doesn’t ‘drum them out of town,’” she thought to herself,“nothing ever will!”

“It’s my own Invention”

“So you will, when you’ve crossed the next brook,” said the WhiteKnight. “I’ll see you safe to the end of the wood—and then I must goback, you know. That’s the end of my move.”

“I see you’re admiring my little box.” the Knight said in a friendlytone. “It’s my own invention—to keep clothes and sandwiches in. You seeI carry it upside-down, so that the rain can’t get in.”

“Have you invented a plan for keeping the hair from being blown off?”Alice enquired.

“It’s too ridiculous!” cried Alice, losing all her patience this time.“You ought to have a wooden horse on wheels, that you ought!”

He looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the subject hastily.“What a curious helmet you’ve got!” she said cheerfully. “Is that yourinvention too?”

The knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did not dare to laugh.“I’m afraid you must have hurt him,” she said in a trembling voice,“being on the top of his head.”

“Or else it doesn’t, you know. The name of the song is called‘Haddocks’ Eyes.’”

“No, you don’t understand,” the Knight said, looking a little vexed.“That’s what the name is called. The name really is ‘The Aged AgedMan.’”

“No, you oughtn’t: that’s quite another thing! The song is called‘Ways and Means’: but that’s only what it’s called, you know!”

“I was coming to that,” the Knight said. “The song really is‘A-sitting On A Gate’: and the tune’s my own invention.”

“But the tune isn’t his own invention,” she said to herself: “it’s‘I give thee all, I can no more.’” She stood and listened veryattentively, but no tears came into her eyes.

“I’ll tell thee everything I can;There’s little to relate.I saw an aged aged man,A-sitting on a gate.‘Who are you, aged man?’ I said,‘and how is it you live?’And his answer trickled through my headLike water through a sieve.

He said ‘I look for butterfliesThat sleep among the wheat:I make them into mutton-pies,And sell them in the street.I sell them unto men,’ he said,‘Who sail on stormy seas;And that’s the way I get my bread—A trifle, if you please.’

But I was thinking of a planTo dye one’s whiskers green,And always use so large a fanThat they could not be seen.So, having no reply to giveTo what the old man said,I cried, ‘Come, tell me how you live!’And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:He said ‘I go my ways,And when I find a mountain-rill,I set it in a blaze;And thence they make a stuff they callRolands’ Macassar Oil—Yet twopence-halfpenny is allThey give me for my toil.’

But I was thinking of a wayTo feed oneself on batter,And so go on from day to dayGetting a little fatter.I shook him well from side to side,Until his face was blue:‘Come, tell me how you live,’ I cried,‘And what it is you do!’

He said ‘I hunt for haddocks’ eyesAmong the heather bright,And work them into waistcoat-buttonsIn the silent night.And these I do not sell for goldOr coin of silvery shineBut for a copper halfpenny,And that will purchase nine.

‘I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,Or set limed twigs for crabs;I sometimes search the grassy knollsFor wheels of Hansom-cabs.And that’s the way’ (he gave a wink)‘By which I get my wealth—And very gladly will I drinkYour Honour’s noble health.’

I heard him then, for I had justCompleted my designTo keep the Menai bridge from rustBy boiling it in wine.I thanked him much for telling meThe way he got his wealth,But chiefly for his wish that heMight drink my noble health.

And now, if e’er by chance I putMy fingers into glueOr madly squeeze a right-hand footInto a left-hand shoe,Or if I drop upon my toeA very heavy weight,I weep, for it reminds me so,Of that old man I used to know—Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,Whose hair was whiter than the snow,Whose face was very like a crow,With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,Who seemed distracted with his woe,Who rocked his body to and fro,And muttered mumblingly and low,As if his mouth were full of dough,Who snorted like a buffalo—That summer evening, long ago,A-sitting on a gate.”

“I hope so,” the Knight said doubtfully: “but you didn’t cry so much asI thought you would.”