alice-in-metamorpov/through-the-looking-glass/tweedledum-and-tweedledee.typ

== Tweedledum And Tweedledee
They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other's
neck, and pov/S knew which was which in a moment, because one of them
had “DUM” embroidered on his collar, and the other “DEE.” “I suppose
they've each got ‘TWEEDLE' round at the back of the collar,” pov/s said
to pov/r.

They stood so still that pov/s quite forgot they were alive, and pov/s
vrb/be/ just looking round to see if the word ‘TWEEDLE' was written at
the back of each collar, when pov/s vrb/be/ startled by a voice coming
from the one marked “DUM.”

“If you think we're wax-works,” he said, “you ought to pay, you know.
Wax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!”

“Contrariwise,” added the one marked “DEE,” “if you think we're alive,
you ought to speak.”

“I'm sure I'm very sorry,” was all pov/S could say; for the words of the
old song kept ringing through pov/p head like the ticking of a clock,
and pov/s could hardly help saying them out loud:---

#include "poems/tweedledum-and-tweedledee.typ"

“I know what you're thinking about,” said Tweedledum: “but it isn't so,
nohow.”

“Contrariwise,” continued Tweedledee, “if it was so, it might be; and if
it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.”

“I was thinking,” pov/S said very politely, “which is the best way out
of this wood: it's getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?”

But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.

They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that pov/S
couldn't help pointing pov/p finger at Tweedledum, and saying “First
Boy!”

“Nohow!” Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with
a snap.

“Next Boy!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/,
passing on to Tweedledee, though pov/s felt quite certain he would only
shout out “Contrariwise!” and so he did.

“You've been wrong!” cried Tweedledum. “The first thing in a visit is to
say ‘How d'ye do?' and shake hands!” And here the two brothers gave each
other a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to
shake hands with pov/o.

Pov/S did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of
hurting the other one's feelings; so, as the best way out of the
difficulty, pov/s took hold of both hands at once: the next moment they
were dancing round in a ring. This seemed quite natural (pov/s
remembered afterwards), and pov/s vrb/be/ not even surprised to hear
music playing: it seemed to come from the tree under which plv/s were
dancing, and it was done (as well as pov/s could make it out) by the
branches rubbing one across the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.

“But it certainly #emph[was] funny,” (pov/S said afterwards, when pov/s
vrb/be/ telling pov/p sister the history of all this,) “to find myself
singing ‘#emph[Here we go round the mulberry bush];.' I don't know when
I began it, but somehow I felt as if I'd been singing it a long long
time!”

The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. “Four times
round is enough for one dance,” Tweedledum panted out, and they left off
dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same
moment.

Then they let go of pov/P hands, and stood looking at pov/o for a
minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as pov/S didn't know how to
begin a conversation with people pov/s had just been dancing with. “It
would never do to say ‘How d'ye do?' #emph[now];,” pov/s said to pov/r:
“we seem to have got beyond that, somehow!”

“I hope you're not much tired?” pov/s said at last.

“Nohow. And thank you #emph[very] much for asking,” said Tweedledum.

“So #emph[much] obliged!” added Tweedledee. “You like poetry?”

“Ye-es, pretty well---#emph[some] poetry,” pov/S said doubtfully. “Would
you tell me which road leads out of the wood?”

“What shall I repeat to prn/o?” said Tweedledee, looking round at
Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing pov/P question.

“‘#emph[The Walrus and the Carpenter];' is the longest,” Tweedledum
replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug.

Tweedledee began instantly:

#quote(block: true)[
“The sun was shining---”
]

Here pov/S ventured to interrupt him. “If it's #emph[very] long,” pov/s
said, as politely as pov/s could, “would you please tell me first which
road---”

Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:

#include "poems/the-walrus-and-the-carpenter.typ"

“I like the Walrus best,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said
pov/S/: “because you see he was a #emph[little] sorry for the poor
oysters.”

“He ate more than the Carpenter, though,” said Tweedledee. “You see he
held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn't count how
many he took: contrariwise.”

“That was mean!” pov/S said indignantly. “Then I like the Carpenter
best---if he didn't eat so many as the Walrus.”

“But he ate as many as he could get,” said Tweedledum.

This was a puzzler. After a pause, pov/S began, “Well! They were
#emph[both] very unpleasant characters---” Here pov/s checked pov/r in
some alarm, at hearing something that sounded to pov/o like the puffing
of a large steam-engine in the wood near them, though pov/s feared it
was more likely to be a wild beast. “Are there any lions or tigers about
here?” pov/s asked timidly.

“It's only the Red King snoring,” said Tweedledee.

“Come and look at him!” the brothers cried, and they each took one of
pov/P hands, and led pov/o up to where the King was sleeping.

“Isn't he a #emph[lovely] sight?” said Tweedledum.

Pov/S couldn't say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap on,
with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap,
and snoring loud---“fit to snore his head off!” as Tweedledum remarked.

“I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,” alt/first
and second or third/pov/S said, being a very thoughtful little
prn/n/said pov/S, who was a very thoughtful little girl/.

“He's dreaming now,” said Tweedledee: “and what do you think he's
dreaming about?”

Pov/S said “Nobody can guess that.”

“Why, about #emph[you];!” Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands
triumphantly. “And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you
suppose you'd be?”

“Where I am now, of course,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S
said/said pov/S/.

“Not you!” Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. “You'd be nowhere. Why,
you're only a sort of thing in his dream!”

“If that there King was to wake,” added Tweedledum, “you'd go
out---bang!---just like a candle!”

“I shouldn't!” pov/S exclaimed indignantly. “Besides, if #emph[I'm] only
a sort of thing in his dream, what are #emph[you];, I should like to
know?”

“Ditto” said Tweedledum.

“Ditto, ditto” cried Tweedledee.

He shouted this so loud that pov/S couldn't help saying, “Hush! You'll
be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise.”

“Well, it no use #emph[your] talking about waking him,” said Tweedledum,
“when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well
you're not real.”

“I #emph[am] real!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/
and began to cry.

“You won't make yourself a bit realler by crying,” Tweedledee remarked:
“there's nothing to cry about.”

“If I wasn't real,” pov/S said---half-laughing through pov/p tears, it
all seemed so ridiculous---“I shouldn't be able to cry.”

“I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?” Tweedledum interrupted
in a tone of great contempt.

“I know they're talking nonsense,” pov/S thought to pov/r: “and it's
foolish to cry about it.” So pov/s brushed away pov/p tears, and went on
as cheerfully as pov/s could. “At any rate I'd better be getting out of
the wood, for really it's coming on very dark. Do you think it's going
to rain?”

Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and
looked up into it. “No, I don't think it is,” he said: “at least---not
under #emph[here];. Nohow.”

“But it may rain #emph[outside];?”

“It may---if it chooses,” said Tweedledee: “we've no objection.
Contrariwise.”

“Selfish things!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S thought/thought
pov/S/, and pov/s vrb/be/ just going to say “Good-night” and leave them,
when Tweedledum sprang out from under the umbrella and seized pov/o by
the wrist.

“Do you see #emph[that];?” he said, in a voice choking with passion, and
his eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a
trembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.

“It's only a rattle,” pov/S said, after a careful examination of the
little white thing. “Not a rattle-#emph[snake];, you know,” pov/s added
hastily, thinking that he was frightened: “only an old rattle---quite
old and broken.”

“I knew it was!” cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and
tear his hair. “It's spoilt, of course!” Here he looked at Tweedledee,
who immediately sat down on the ground, and tried to hide himself under
the umbrella.

Pov/S laid pov/p hand upon his arm, and said in a soothing tone, “You
needn't be so angry about an old rattle.”

“But it isn't old!” Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever. “It's
new, I tell you---I bought it yesterday---my nice new RATTLE!” and his
voice rose to a perfect scream.

All this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella,
with himself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that it
quite took off pov/P attention from the angry brother. But he couldn't
quite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the
umbrella, with only his head out: and there he lay, opening and shutting
his mouth and his large eyes---“looking more like a fish than anything
else,” pov/S thought.

“Of course you agree to have a battle?” Tweedledum said in a calmer
tone.

“I suppose so,” the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the
umbrella: “only #emph[prn/s] must help us to dress up, you know.”

So the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned in
a minute with their arms full of things---such as bolsters, blankets,
hearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. “I hope you're
a good hand at pinning and tying strings?” Tweedledum remarked. “Every
one of these things has got to go on, somehow or other.”

Pov/S said afterwards pov/s had never seen such a fuss made about
anything in all pov/p life---the way those two bustled about---and the
quantity of things they put on---and the trouble they gave pov/o in
tying strings and fastening buttons---“Really they'll be more like
bundles of old clothes than anything else, by the time they're ready!”
pov/s said to pov/r, as pov/s arranged a bolster round the neck of
Tweedledee, “to keep his head from being cut off,” as he said.

“You know,” he added very gravely, “it's one of the most serious things
that can possibly happen to one in a battle---to get one's head cut
off.”

Pov/S laughed aloud: but pov/s managed to turn it into a cough, for fear
of hurting his feelings.

“Do I look very pale?” said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet
tied on. (He #emph[called] it a helmet, though it certainly looked much
more like a saucepan.)

“Well---yes---a #emph[little];,” pov/S replied gently.

“I'm very brave generally,” he went on in a low voice: “only to-day I
happen to have a headache.”

“And #emph[I've] got a toothache!” said Tweedledee, who had overheard
the remark. “I'm far worse off than you!”

“Then you'd better not fight to-day,” alt/first and second or
third/pov/S said/said pov/S/, thinking it a good opportunity to make
peace.

“We #emph[must] have a bit of a fight, but I don't care about going on
long,” said Tweedledum. “What's the time now?”

Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said “Half-past four.”

“Let's fight till six, and then have dinner,” said Tweedledum.

“Very well,” the other said, rather sadly: “and #emph[prn/s] can watch
us---only you'd better not come #emph[very] close,” he added: “I
generally hit everything I can see---when I get really excited.”

“And #emph[I] hit everything within reach,” cried Tweedledum, “whether I
can see it or not!”

Pov/S laughed. “You must hit the #emph[trees] pretty often, I should
think,” pov/s said.

Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. “I don't suppose,”
he said, “there'll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by
the time we've finished!”

“And all about a rattle!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said
pov/S/, still hoping to make them a #emph[little] ashamed of fighting
for such a trifle.

“I shouldn't have minded it so much,” said Tweedledum, “if it hadn't
been a new one.”

“I wish the monstrous crow would come!” alt/first and second or
third/pov/S thought/thought pov/S/.

“There's only one sword, you know,” Tweedledum said to his brother: “but
you can have the umbrella---it's quite as sharp. Only we must begin
quick. It's getting as dark as it can.”

“And darker,” said Tweedledee.

It was getting dark so suddenly that pov/S thought there must be a
thunderstorm coming on. “What a thick black cloud that is!” pov/s said.
“And how fast it comes! Why, I do believe it's got wings!”

“It's the crow!” Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and
the two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.

Pov/S ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree.
“It can never get at me #emph[here];,” pov/s thought: “it's far too
large to squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn't flap
its wings so---it makes quite a hurricane in the wood---here's
somebody's shawl being blown away!”