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Chapter XII: Alice`s Evidence
Chapter XII: Alice`s Evidence
"Here!" cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how
large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a hurry
that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, upsetting all
the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there they lay sprawling
about, reminding her very much of a globe of gold-fish she had accidentally
upset the week before.
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and
began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of the
gold-fish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea that they
must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or they would die.
[See Jury-Box: They must be put back or they would die.]
"The trial cannot proceed," said the King in a very grave voice, "until
all the jurymen are back in their proper places - all," he repeated with great
emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said so.
Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the
Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail about
in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon got it out again,
and put it right; "not that it signifies much," she said to herself; "I should
think it would be quite as much use in the trial one way up as the other."
As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being
upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them,
they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all
except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit with
its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court.
"What do you know about this business?" the King said to Alice.
"Nothing," said Alice.
"Nothing whatever?" persisted the King.
"Nothing whatever," said Alice.
"That`s very important," the King said, turning to the jury. They were
just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit
interrupted: "Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course," he said in a very
respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.
"Unimportant, of course, I meant," the King hastily said, and went on to
himself in an undertone, "important - unimportant - unimportant - important -"
as if he were trying which word sounded best.
Some of the jury wrote it down "important," and some "unimportant." Alice
could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; "but it
doesn`t matter a bit," she thought to herself.
At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his
note-book, called out "Silence!" and read out from his book, "Rule Forty-two.
All persons more than a mile high to leave the court."
Everybody looked at Alice.
"I`m not a mile high," said Alice.
"You are," said the King.
"Nearly two miles high," added the Queen.
"Well, I shan`t go, at any rate," said Alice; "besides, that`s not a
regular rule: you invented it just now."
"It`s the oldest rule in the book," said the King.
"Then it ought to be Number One," said Alice.
The King turned pale, and shut his notebook hastily. "Consider your
verdict," he said to the jury, in a low trembling voice.
"There`s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty," said the White
Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; "this paper has just been picked up."
"What`s in it?" said the Queen.
"I haven`t opened it yet," said the White Rabbit, "but it seems to be
a letter, written by the prisoner to - to somebody."
"It must have been that," said the King, "unless it was written to
nobody, which isn`t usual, you know."
"Who is it directed to?" said one of the jurymen.
"It isn`t directed at all," said the White Rabbit; "in fact, there`s
nothing written on the outside." He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and
added, "It isn`t a letter after all: it`s a set of verses."
"Are they in the prisoner`s handwriting?" asked another of the jurymen.
"No, they`re not," said the White Rabbit, "and that`s the queerest thing
about it." (The jury all looked puzzled.)
"He must have imitated somebody else`s hand," said the King. (The jury
all brightened up again.)
"Please, your Majesty," said the Knave, "I didn`t write it, and they
can`t write it, and they can`t prove I did: there`s no name signed at the
end."
"If you didn`t sign it," said the King, "that only makes the matter
worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you`d have signed your
name like an honest man."
There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really
clever thing the King had said that day.
"That proves his guilt," said the Queen.
"It proves nothing of the sort!" said Alice. "Why, you don`t even know
what they`re about!"
"Read them," said the King.
The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. "Where shall I begin, please your
Majesty?" he asked.
"Begin at the beginning," the King said, gravely, "and go on till you
come to the end: then stop."
These were the verses the White Rabbit read: -
"They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.
He sent them word I had not gone
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
I gave her one, they gave him two,
You gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.
If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.
My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.
Don`t let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me."
"That`s the most important piece of evidence we`ve heard yet," said the
King, rubbing his hands; "so now let the jury -"
"If any one of them can explain it," said Alice, (she had grown so large
in the last few minutes that she wasn`t a bit afraid of interrupting him),
"I`ll give him sixpence. I don`t believe there`s an atom of meaning in it."
The jury all wrote down on their slates, "She doesn`t believe there`s an
atom of meaning in it," but none of them attempted to explain the paper.
If there`s no meaning in it," said the King, "that saves a world of
trouble, you know, as we needn`t try to find any. And yet I don`t know," he
went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with one
eye; "I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. `- said I could not
swim, -` you can`t swim, can you?" he added, turning to the Knave.
The Knave shook his head sadly. "Do I look like it?" he said. (Which he
certainly did not, being made entirely of cardboard.)
"All right, so far," said the King, and he went on muttering over the
verses to himself: "`We know it to be true -` that`s the jury, of course - `If
she should push the matter on` - that must be the Queen -` What would become
of you?` - What, indeed! - `I gave her one, they gave him two - ` why, that
must be what he did with the tarts, you know -"
"But it goes on `they all returned from him to you,`" said Alice.
"Why, there they are!" said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts
on the table. "Nothing can be clearer than that. Then again - `before she had
this fit -` you never had fits, my dear, I think?" he said to the Queen.
"Never!" said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as
she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his slate with
one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began again, using
the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it lasted.)
[See There They Are: The tarts were on the table.]
"Then the words don`t fit you," said the King, looking round the court
with a smile. There was a dead silence.
"It`s a pun!" the King added in an angry tone, and everybody laughed.
"Let the jury consider their verdict," the King said, for about the twentieth
time that day.
"No, no!" said the Queen. "Sentence first-verdict afterwards."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Alice loudly. "The idea of having the sentence
first!"
"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen, turning purple.
"I won`t!" said Alice.
"Off with her head!" the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody
moved.
"Who cares for you?" said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this
time.) "You`re nothing but a pack of cards!"
At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon
her; she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, 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 dead leaves that had
fluttered down from the trees on to her face.
[See Down Upon Her: They rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her.]
"Wake up, Alice dear!" said her sister; "why, what a long sleep you`ve
had!"
"Oh, I`ve had such a curious dream!" said Alice, and she told her sister,
as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that
you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed
her, and said, "It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to
your tea; it`s getting late." So Alice gut up and ran off, thinking while she
ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been.
But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her
hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her
wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this
was her dream: -
First, she dreamed of little Alice herself: - once again the tiny hands
were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into
hers - she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little
toss of her head, to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into
her eyes - and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place
around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister`s
dream.
The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by - the
frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool - she could
hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their
never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her
unfortunate guests to execution - once more the pig - baby was sneezing on the
Duchess` knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it - once more the
shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard`s slate-pencil, and the
choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the
distant sob of the miserable Mock Turtle.
So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland,
though she knew she had but to open them again and all would change to dull
reality - the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling
to the waving of the reeds - the rattling teacups would change to tinkling
sheep-bells, and the Queen`s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd
boy - and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other
queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy
farm-yard - while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the
place of the Mock Turtle`s heavy sobs.
Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers
would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep,
through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and
how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes
bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of
Wonderland 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.
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