The Complete Novels of Lewis Carroll (Illustrated Edition). Lewis Carroll

looked at the Queen, who seemed to have suddenly wrapped herself up in wool. Alice rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She couldn’t make out what had happened at all. Was she in a shop? And was that really—was it really a sheep that was sitting on the other side of the counter? Rub as she could, she could make nothing more of it: she was in a little dark shop, leaning with her elbows on the counter, and opposite to her was an old Sheep, sitting in an arm-chair knitting, and every now and then leaving off to look at her through a great pair of spectacles.

      ‘What is it you want to buy?’ the Sheep said at last, looking up for a moment from her knitting.

      ‘I don’t quite know yet,’ Alice said, very gently. ‘I should like to look all round me first, if I might.’

      ‘You may look in front of you, and on both sides, if you like,’ said the Sheep: ‘but you ca’n’t look all round you—unless you’ve got eyes at the back of your head.’

      But these, as it happened, Alice had not got: so she contented herself with turning round, looking at the shelves as she came to them.

      The shop seemed to be full of all manner of curious things—but the oddest part of it all was, that whenever she looked hard at any shelf, to make out exactly what it had on it, that particular shelf was always quite empty: though the others round it were crowded as full as they could hold.

      ‘Things flow about so here!’ she said at last in a plaintive tone, after she had spent a minute or so in vainly pursuing a large bright thing, that looked sometimes like a doll and sometimes like a work-box, and was always in the shelf next above the one she was looking at. ‘And this one is the most provoking of all—but I’ll tell you what—’ she added, as a sudden thought struck her, ‘I’ll follow it up to the very top shelf of all. It’ll puzzle it to go through the ceiling, I expect!’

      But even this plan failed: the ‘thing’ went through the ceiling as quietly as possible, as if it were quite used to it.

      ‘Are you a child or a teetotum?’ the Sheep said, as she took up another pair of needles. ‘You’ll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning round like that.’ She was now working with fourteen pairs at once, and Alice couldn’t help looking at her in great astonishment.

      ‘How can she knit with so many?’ the puzzled child thought to herself. ‘She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!’

      ‘Can you row?’ the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles as she spoke.

      ‘Yes, a little—but not on land—and not with needles—’ Alice was beginning to say, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her hands, and she found they were in a little boat, gliding along between banks: so there was nothing for it but to do her best.

      ‘Feather!’ cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.

      This didn’t sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said nothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the water, she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and would hardly come out again.

      ‘Feather! Feather!’ the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. ‘You’ll be catching a crab directly.’

      ‘A dear little crab!’ thought Alice. ‘I should like that.’

      ‘Didn’t you hear me say “Feather”?’ the Sheep cried angrily, taking up quite a bunch of needles.

      ‘Indeed I did,’ said Alice: ‘you’ve said it very often—and very loud. Please, where are the crabs?’

      ‘In the water, of course!’ said the Sheep, sticking some of the needles into her hair, as her hands were full. ‘Feather, I say!’

      ‘Why do you say “feather” so often?’ Alice asked at last, rather vexed. ‘I’m not a bird!’

      ‘You are,’ said the Sheep: ‘you’re a little goose.’

      This offended Alice a little, so there was no more conversation for a minute or two, while the boat glided gently on, sometimes among beds of weeds (which made the oars stick fast in the water, worse than ever), and sometimes under trees, but always with the same tall river-banks frowning over their heads.

      ‘Oh, please! There are some scented rushes!’ Alice cried in a sudden transport of delight. ‘There really are—and such beauties!’

      ‘You needn’t say “please” to me about ’em,’ the Sheep said, without looking up from her knitting: ‘I didn’t put ’em there, and I’m not going to take ’em away.’

      ‘No, but I meant—please, may we wait and pick some?’ Alice pleaded. ‘If you don’t mind stopping the boat for a minute.’

      ‘How am I to stop it?’ said the Sheep. ‘If you leave off rowing, it’ll stop of itself.’

      So the boat was left to drift down the stream as it would, till it glided gently in among the waving rushes. And then the little sleeves were carefully rolled up, and the little arms were plunged in elbow-deep to get the rushes a good long way down before breaking them off—and for a while Alice forgot all about the Sheep and the knitting, as she bent over the side of the boat, with just the ends of her tangled hair dipping into the water—while with bright eager eyes she caught at one bunch after another of the darling scented rushes.

      ‘I only hope the boat wo’n’t tipple over!’ she said to herself. ‘Oh, what a lovely one! Only I couldn’t quite reach it.’ And it certainly did seem a little provoking (‘almost as if it happened on purpose,’ she thought) that, though she managed to pick plenty of beautiful rushes as the boat glided by, there was always a more lovely one that she couldn’t reach.

      ‘The prettiest are always further!’ she said at last, with a sigh at the obstinacy of the rushes in growing so far off, as, with flushed cheeks and dripping hair and hands, she scrambled back into her place, and began to arrange her new-found treasures.

      What mattered it to her just then that the rushes had begun to fade, and to lose all their scent and beauty, from the very moment that she picked them? Even real scented rushes, you know, last only a very little while—and these, being dream-rushes, melted away almost like snow, as they lay in heaps at her feet—but Alice hardly noticed this, there were so many other curious things to think about.

      They hadn’t gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars got fast in the water and wouldn’t come out again (so Alice explained it afterwards), and the consequence was that the handle of it caught her under the chin, and, in spite of a series of little shrieks of ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ from poor Alice, it swept her straight off the seat, and down among the heap of rushes.

      However, she wasn’t hurt, and was soon up again: the Sheep went on with her knitting all the while, just as if nothing had happened. ‘That was a nice crab you caught!’ she remarked, as Alice got back into her place, very much relieved to find herself still in the boat.

      ‘Was it? I didn’t see it,’ Said Alice, peeping cautiously over the side of the boat into the dark water. ‘I wish it hadn’t let go—I should so like to see a little crab to take home with me!’ But the Sheep only laughed scornfully, and went on with her knitting.

      ‘Are there many crabs here?’ said Alice.

      ‘Crabs, and all sorts of things,’ said the Sheep: ‘plenty of choice, only make up your mind. Now, what do you want to buy?’

      ‘To buy!’ Alice echoed in a tone that was half astonished and half