== Looking-Glass Insects
Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the
country she was going to travel through. “It's something very like
learning geography,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought
pov/S/, as pov/s stood on tiptoe in hopes of being able to see a little
further. “Principal rivers---there #emph[are] none. Principal
mountains---I'm on the only one, but I don't think it's got any name.
Principal towns---why, what #emph[are] those creatures, making honey
down there? They can't be bees---nobody ever saw bees a mile off, you
know---” and for some time pov/s stood silent, watching one of them that
was bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them,
“just as if it was a regular bee,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S
thought/thought pov/S/.

However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an
elephant---as pov/S soon found out, though the idea quite took pov/p
breath away at first. “And what enormous flowers they must be!” was
pov/p next idea. “Something like cottages with the roofs taken off, and
stalks put to them---and what quantities of honey they must make! I
think I'll go down and---no, I won't #emph[just] yet,” pov/s went on,
checking pov/r just as pov/s vrb/be/ beginning to run down the hill, and
trying to find some excuse for turning shy so suddenly. “It'll never do
to go down among them without a good long branch to brush them
away---and what fun it'll be when they ask me how I like my walk. I
shall say---‘Oh, I like it well enough---'” (here came the favourite
little toss of the head), “‘only it was so dusty and hot, and the
elephants did tease so!'”

“I think I'll go down the other way,” pov/s said after a pause: “and
perhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get
into the Third Square!”

So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of
the six little brooks.

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“Tickets, please!” said the Guard, putting his head in at the window. In
a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the same
size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.

“Now then! Show your ticket, child!” the Guard went on, looking angrily
at pov/O. And a great many voices all said together (“like the chorus of
a song,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought pov/S/),
“Don't keep him waiting, child! Why, his time is worth a thousand pounds
a minute!”

“I'm afraid I haven't got one,” pov/S said in a frightened tone: “there
wasn't a ticket-office where I came from.” And again the chorus of
voices went on. “There wasn't room for one where prn/s came from. The
land there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!”

“Don't make excuses,” said the Guard: “you should have bought one from
the engine-driver.” And once more the chorus of voices went on with “The
man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a thousand
pounds a puff!”

Pov/S thought to pov/r, “Then there's no use in speaking.” The voices
didn't join in this time, as pov/s hadn't spoken, but to pov/p great
surprise, they all #emph[thought] in chorus (I hope you understand what
#emph[thinking in chorus] means---for I must confess that #emph[I]
don't), “Better say nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds
a word!”

“I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!”
alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought pov/S/.

All this time the Guard was looking at pov/o, first through a telescope,
then through a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last he
said, “You're travelling the wrong way,” and shut up the window and went
away.

“So young a child,” said the gentleman sitting opposite to pov/o (he was
dressed in white paper), “ought to know which way prn/s's going, even if
prn/s doesn't know prn/p own name!”

A Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his eyes
and said in a loud voice, “She ought to know her way to the
ticket-office, even if prn/s doesn't know prn/p alphabet!”

There was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queer
carriage-full of passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to be
that they should all speak in turn, #emph[he] went on with “Prn/s'll
have to go back from here as luggage!”

Pov/S couldn't see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse voice
spoke next. “Change engines---” it said, and was obliged to leave off.

“It sounds like a horse,” pov/S thought to pov/r. And an extremely small
voice, close to pov/p ear, said, “You might make a joke on
that---something about ‘horse' and ‘hoarse,' you know.”

Then a very gentle voice in the distance said, “She must be labelled
‘Lass, with care,' you know---”

And after that other voices went on (“What a number of people there are
in the carriage!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought
pov/S/), saying, “She must go by post, as she's got a head on her---”
“She must be sent as a message by the telegraph---” “She must draw the
train herself the rest of the way---” and so on.

But the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered
in her ear, “Never mind what they all say, my dear, but take a
return-ticket every time the train stops.”

“Indeed I shan't!” pov/S said rather impatiently. “I don't belong to
this railway journey at all---I was in a wood just now---and I wish I
could get back there.”

“You might make a joke on #emph[that];,” said the little voice close to
her ear: “something about ‘you #emph[would] if you could,' you know.”

“Don't tease so,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/,
looking about in vain to see where the voice came from; “if you're so
anxious to have a joke made, why don't you make one yourself?”

The little voice sighed deeply: it was #emph[very] unhappy, evidently,
and pov/S would have said something pitying to comfort it, “If it would
only sigh like other people!” pov/s thought. But this was such a
wonderfully small sigh, that pov/s wouldn't have heard it at all, if it
hadn't come #emph[quite] close to pov/p ear. The consequence of this was
that it tickled pov/p ear very much, and quite took off pov/p thoughts
from the unhappiness of the poor little creature.

“I know you are a friend,” the little voice went on; “a dear friend, and
an old friend. And you won't hurt me, though I #emph[am] an insect.”

“What kind of insect?” pov/S inquired a little anxiously. What pov/s
really wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but pov/s
thought this wouldn't be quite a civil question to ask.

“What, then you don't---” the little voice began, when it was drowned by
a shrill scream from the engine, and everybody jumped up in alarm, pov/S
among the rest.

The Horse, who had put his head out of the window, quietly drew it in
and said, “It's only a brook we have to jump over.” Everybody seemed
satisfied with this, though pov/S felt a little nervous at the idea of
trains jumping at all. “However, it'll take us into the Fourth Square,
that's some comfort!” pov/s said to pov/r. In another moment pov/s felt
the carriage rise straight up into the air, and in pov/p fright pov/s
caught at the thing nearest to pov/p hand, which happened to be the
Goat's beard.

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But the beard seemed to melt away as pov/s touched it, and pov/s found
pov/r sitting quietly under a tree---while the Gnat (for that was the
insect pov/s had been talking to) was balancing itself on a twig just
over pov/p head, and fanning pov/o with its wings.

It certainly was a #emph[very] large Gnat: “about the size of a
chicken,” pov/S thought. Still, pov/s couldn't feel nervous with it,
after they had been talking together so long.

“---then you don't like all insects?” the Gnat went on, as quietly as if
nothing had happened.

“I like them when they can talk,” pov/S said. “None of them ever talk,
where #emph[I] come from.”

“What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where #emph[you] come from?”
the Gnat inquired.

“I don't #emph[rejoice] in insects at all,” pov/S explained, “because
I'm rather afraid of them---at least the large kinds. But I can tell you
the names of some of them.”

“Of course they answer to their names?” the Gnat remarked carelessly.

“I never knew them to do it.”

“What's the use of their having names,” the Gnat said, “if they won't
answer to them?”

“No use to #emph[them];,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said
pov/S/; “but it's useful to the people who name them, I suppose. If not,
why do things have names at all?”

“I can't say,” the Gnat replied. “Further on, in the wood down there,
they've got no names---however, go on with your list of insects: you're
wasting time.”

“Well, there's the Horse-fly,” pov/S began, counting off the names on
pov/p fingers.

“All right,” said the Gnat: “half way up that bush, you'll see a
Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It's made entirely of wood, and gets
about by swinging itself from branch to branch.”

“What does it live on?” pov/S asked, with great curiosity.

“Sap and sawdust,” said the Gnat. “Go on with the list.”

Pov/S looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made
up pov/p mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright
and sticky; and then pov/s went on.

“And there's the Dragon-fly.”

“Look on the branch above your head,” said the Gnat, “and there you'll
find a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of
holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.”

“And what does it live on?”

“Frumenty and mince pie,” the Gnat replied; “and it makes its nest in a
Christmas box.”

“And then there's the Butterfly,” pov/S went on, after pov/s had taken a
good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to pov/r,
“I wonder if that's the reason insects are so fond of flying into
candles---because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!”

“Crawling at your feet,” said the Gnat (pov/S drew pov/p feet back in
some alarm), “you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin
slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump
of sugar.”

“And what does #emph[it] live on?”

“Weak tea with cream in it.”

A new difficulty came into pov/S head. “Supposing it couldn't find any?”
pov/s suggested.

“Then it would die, of course.”

“But that must happen very often,” pov/S remarked thoughtfully.

“It always happens,” said the Gnat.

After this, pov/S vrb/be/ silent for a minute or two, pondering. The
Gnat amused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at
last it settled again and remarked, “I suppose you don't want to lose
your name?”

“No, indeed,” pov/S said, a little anxiously.

“And yet I don't know,” the Gnat went on in a careless tone: “only think
how convenient it would be if you could manage to go home without it!
For instance, if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons, she
would call out ‘come here---,' and there she would have to leave off,
because there wouldn't be any name for her to call, and of course you
wouldn't have to go, you know.”

“That would never do, I'm sure,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S
said/said pov/S/: “the governess would never think of excusing me
lessons for that. If she couldn't remember my name, she'd call me
‘Prn/h!' as the servants do.”

“Well, if she said ‘Prn/h,' and didn't say anything more,” the Gnat
remarked, “of course you'd miss your lessons. That's a joke. I wish
#emph[you] had made it.”

“Why do you wish #emph[I] had made it?” pov/S asked. “It's a very bad
one.”

But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling down
its cheeks.

“You shouldn't make jokes,” pov/S said, “if it makes you so unhappy.”

Then came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the
poor Gnat really seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when pov/S
looked up, there was nothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, as
pov/s vrb/be/ getting quite chilly with sitting still so long, pov/s got
up and walked on.

Pov/s very soon came to an open field, with a wood on the other side of
it: it looked much darker than the last wood, and pov/S felt a
#emph[little] timid about going into it. However, on second thoughts,
pov/s made up pov/p mind to go on: “for I certainly won't go
#emph[back];,” pov/s thought to pov/r, and this was the only way to the
Eighth Square.

“This must be the wood,” pov/s said thoughtfully to pov/r, “where things
have no names. I wonder what'll become of #emph[my] name when I go in? I
shouldn't like to lose it at all---because they'd have to give me
another, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then the
fun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old name!
That's just like the advertisements, you know, when people lose
dogs---‘#emph[answers to the name of “Dash:” had on a brass
collar];'---just fancy calling everything you met ‘Y/n,' till one of
them answered! Only they wouldn't answer at all, if they were wise.”

Pov/s vrb/be/ rambling on in this way when pov/s reached the wood: it
looked very cool and shady. “Well, at any rate it's a great comfort,”
pov/s said as she stepped under the trees, “after being so hot, to get
into the---into #emph[what];?” pov/s went on, rather surprised at not
being able to think of the word. “I mean to get under the---under
the---under #emph[this];, you know!” putting pov/p hand on the trunk of
the tree. “What #emph[does] it call itself, I wonder? I do believe it's
got no name---why, to be sure it hasn't!”

Pov/s stood silent for a minute, thinking: then pov/s suddenly began
again. “Then it really #emph[has] happened, after all! And now, who am
I? I #emph[will] remember, if I can! I'm determined to do it!” But being
determined didn't help much, and all she could say, after a great deal
of puzzling, was, “Cap/cut/off first 1/cut/only first 2/Y/n\/\//, I
#emph[know] it begins with Cap/cut/off first 1/cut/only first
2/Y/n\/\//!”

Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at pov/O with its large
gentle eyes, but didn't seem at all frightened. “Here then! Here then!”
pov/S said, as pov/s held out pov/p hand and tried to stroke it; but it
only started back a little, and then stood looking at pov/o again.

“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet
voice it had!

“I wish I knew!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought
poor pov/S/. Pov/s answered, rather sadly, “Nothing, just now.”

“Think again,” it said: “that won't do.”

Pov/S thought, but nothing came of it. “Please, would you tell me what
#emph[you] call yourself?” pov/s said timidly. “I think that might help
a little.”

“I'll tell you, if you'll move a little further on,” the Fawn said. “I
can't remember here.”

So they walked on together though the wood, pov/S with pov/p arms
clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out
into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the
air, and shook itself free from pov/P arms. “I'm a Fawn!” it cried out
in a voice of delight, “and, dear me! you're a human child!” A sudden
look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment
it had darted away at full speed.

Pov/S stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at
having lost pov/p dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. “However, I
know my name now.” pov/s said, “that's #emph[some] comfort.
Y/n---Y/n---I won't forget it again. And now, which of these
finger-posts ought I to follow, I wonder?”

It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one
road through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it.
“I'll settle it,” pov/S said to pov/r, “when the road divides and they
point different ways.”

But this did not seem likely to happen. Pov/s went on and on, a long
way, but wherever the road divided there were sure to be two
finger-posts pointing the same way, one marked “TO TWEEDLEDUM'S HOUSE”
and the other “TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.”

“I do believe,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/ at
last, “that they live in the same house! I wonder I never thought of
that before---But I can't stay there long. I'll just call and say ‘how
d'you do?' and ask them the way out of the wood. If I could only get to
the Eighth Square before it gets dark!” So pov/s wandered on, talking to
pov/r as pov/s went, till, on turning a sharp corner, pov/s came upon
two fat little men, so suddenly that pov/s could not help starting back,
but in another moment pov/s recovered pov/r, feeling sure that they must
be.