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    Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
    Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
    Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

    By Lewis Carroll

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    'Tis two score years since Carroll's art,With topsy-turvy magic,Sent Alice wondering through a partHalf-comic and half-tragic.Enchanting Alice! Black-and-whiteHas made your deeds perennial;And naught save "Chaos and old Night"Can part you now from Tenniel;But still you are a Type, and basedIn Truth, like Lear and Hamlet;And Types may be re-draped to tasteIn cloth-of-gold or camlet.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFilRougeViceversa
    Release dateJun 18, 2021
    ISBN9783985519378
    Author

    Lewis Carroll

    Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, matemático, lógico y escritor británico más conocido  por el seudónimo de Lewis Carroll, nació en Daresbury, Cheshire, en 1832, y murió en Guildford en 1898. Durante cerca de cuarenta años fue profesor de matemáticas en Oxford, y junto con el también lógico George Boole procedió a una axiomatización de la lógica. Pero, sin duda, lo que le ha hecho universalmente conocido son sus historias para niños, historias donde desplegó todo su talento para jugar —y hacernos reflexionar— con el absurdo, el sinsentido y la magia de algunas paradojas lógicas. Carroll, que también gustaba de fotografiar niñas, y que ha dejado una galería de ambiguos retratos infantiles, es autor de Alicia en el país de las maravillas (1865), A través del espejo (1872), La caza del Snark (1876) y Silvia y Bruno (1889).

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      Book preview

      Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

      ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND

      decorationimage 1

      'Tis two score years since Carroll's art,

      With topsy-turvy magic,

      Sent Alice wondering through a part

      Half-comic and half-tragic.

      Enchanting Alice! Black-and-white

      Has made your deeds perennial;

      And naught save Chaos and old Night

      Can part you now from Tenniel;

      But still you are a Type, and based

      In Truth, like Lear and Hamlet;

      And Types may be re-draped to taste

      In cloth-of-gold or camlet.

      Here comes afresh Costumier, then;

      That Taste may gain a wrinkle

      From him who drew with such deft pen

      The rags of Rip Van Winkle!

      AUSTIN DOBSON.

      All in the golden afternoon

      Full leisurely we glide;

      For both our oars, with little skill,

      By little arms are plied,

      While little hands make vain pretence

      Our wanderings to guide.

      Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,

      Beneath such dreamy weather,

      To beg a tale of breath too weak

      To stir the tiniest feather!

      Yet what can one poor voice avail

      Against three tongues together?

      Imperious Prima flashes forth

      Her edict to begin it—

      In gentler tone Secunda hopes

      There will be nonsense in it!—

      While Tertia interrupts the tale

      Not more than once a minute.

      Anon, to sudden silence won,

      In fancy they pursue

      The dream-child moving through a land

      Of wonders wild and new,

      In friendly chat with bird or beast—

      And half believe it true.

      And ever, as the story drained

      The wells of fancy dry.

      And faintly strove that weary one

      To put the subject by,

      The rest next time— "It is next time!"

      The happy voices cry.

      Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:

      Thus slowly, one by one,

      Its quaint events were hammered out—

      And now the tale is done,

      And home we steer, a merry crew,

      Beneath the setting sun.

      Alice! a childish story take,

      And with a gentle hand

      Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined

      In Memory's mystic band,

      Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers

      Pluck'd in a far-off land.

      Down the Rabbit-Hole

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      LICE was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, and what is the use of a book, thought Alice, without pictures or conversations?

      So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid) whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

      There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late! (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket , and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

      In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

      The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down what seemed to be a very deep well.

      Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end? I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time? she said aloud. I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down. I think— (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) —yes, that's about the right distance—but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got to? (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.)

      Presently she began again. "I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downwards! The Antipathies, I think—" (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word) —but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma'am, is this New Zealand or Australia? (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) And what an ignorant little girl she'll think me! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.

      Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think! (Dinah was the cat.) I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah, my dear, I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder? And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats? and sometimes, Do bats eat cats? for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat? when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

      Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, "Oh

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