alice-in-metamorpov/adventures-in-wonderland/a-caucus-race-and-a-long-tale.typ

== A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale
Plv/s were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank---the
birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close
to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable.

The first question of course was, how to get dry again: plv/s had a
consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural
to pov/O to find pov/r talking familiarly with them, as if pov/s had
known them all pov/p life. Indeed, pov/s had quite a long argument with
the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, “I am older than
you, and must know better;” and this pov/S would not allow without
knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its
age, there was no more to be said.

At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among plv/o,
called out, “Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! #emph[I'll] soon
make you dry enough!” Plv/s all sat down at once, in a large ring, with
the Mouse in the middle. Pov/S kept pov/p eyes anxiously fixed on it,
for pov/s felt sure pov/s would catch a bad cold if pov/s did not get
dry very soon.

“Ahem!” said the Mouse with an important air, “are you all ready? This
is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! ‘William
the Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted
to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much
accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of
Mercia and Northumbria---'”

“Ugh!” said the Lory, with a shiver.

“I beg your pardon!” said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: “Did
you speak?”

“Not I!” said the Lory hastily.

“I thought you did,” said the Mouse. “---I proceed. ‘Edwin and Morcar,
the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand,
the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable---'”

“Found #emph[what];?” said the Duck.

“Found #emph[it];,” the Mouse replied rather crossly: “of course you
know what ‘it' means.”

“I know what ‘it' means well enough, when #emph[I] find a thing,” said
the Duck: “it's generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did
the archbishop find?”

The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on,
“‘---found it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and
offer him the crown. William's conduct at first was moderate. But the
insolence of his Normans---' How are you getting on now, my dear?” it
continued, turning to pov/O as it spoke.

“As wet as ever,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/
in a melancholy tone: “it doesn't seem to dry me at all.”

“In that case,” said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, “I move that
the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic
remedies---”

“Speak English!” said the Eaglet. “I don't know the meaning of half
those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!” And
the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds
tittered audibly.

“What I was going to say,” said the Dodo in an offended tone, “was, that
the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.”

“What #emph[is] a Caucus-race?” alt/first and second or third/pov/S
said/said pov/S/; not that pov/s wanted much to know, but the Dodo had
paused as if it thought that #emph[somebody] ought to speak, and no one
else seemed inclined to say anything.

“Why,” said the Dodo, “the best way to explain it is to do it.” (And, as
you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell
you how the Dodo managed it.)

First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (“the exact
shape doesn't matter,” it said,) and then all the party were placed
along the course, here and there. There was no “One, two, three, and
away,” but plv/s began running when plv/s liked, and left off when plv/s
liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However,
when plv/s had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry
again, the Dodo suddenly called out “The race is over!” and plv/s all
crowded round it, panting, and asking, “But who has won?”

This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought,
and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead
(the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of
him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said,
“#emph[Everybody] has won, and all must have prizes.”

“But who is to give the prizes?” quite a chorus of voices asked.

“Why, #emph[prn/s];, of course,” said the Dodo, pointing to pov/O with
one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round pov/o, calling out
in a confused way, “Prizes! Prizes!”

Pov/S had no idea what to do, and in despair pov/s put pov/p hand in
pov/p pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water
had not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly
one a-piece, all round.

“But prn/s must have a prize prn/r, you know,” said the Mouse.

“Of course,” the Dodo replied very gravely. “What else have you got in
your pocket?” he went on, turning to pov/O.

“Only a thimble,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/
sadly.

“Hand it over here,” alt/first and second or third/the Dodo said/said
the Dodo/.

Then they all crowded round pov/o once more, while the Dodo solemnly
presented the thimble, saying “We beg your acceptance of this elegant
thimble;” and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered.

Pov/S thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave
that pov/s did not dare to laugh; and, as pov/s could not think of
anything to say, pov/s simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as
solemn as pov/s could.

The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and
confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste
theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back.
However, it was over at last, and plv/s sat down again in a ring, and
begged the Mouse to tell plv/o something more.

“You promised to tell me your history, you know,” alt/first and second
or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/, “and why it is you hate---C and D,”
pov/s added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again.

“Mine is a long and a sad tale!” said the Mouse, turning to pov/O, and
sighing.

“It #emph[is] a long tail, certainly,” alt/first and second or
third/pov/S said/said pov/S/, looking down with wonder at the Mouse's
tail; “but why do you call it sad?” And pov/s kept on puzzling about it
while the Mouse was speaking, so that pov/p idea of the tale was
something like this:---

#include "poems/long-tale.typ"

“You are not attending!” said the Mouse to pov/O severely. “What are you
thinking of?”

“I beg your pardon,” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said
pov/S/ very humbly: “you had got to the fifth bend, I think?”

“I had #emph[not!];” cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily.

“A knot!” alt/first and second or third/pov/S said/said pov/S/, always
ready to make pov/r useful, and looking anxiously about pov/o. “Oh, do
let me help to undo it!”

“I shall do nothing of the sort,” said the Mouse, getting up and walking
away. “You insult me by talking such nonsense!”

“I didn't mean it!” pleaded poor pov/S. “But you're so easily offended,
you know!”

The Mouse only growled in reply.

“Please come back and finish your story!” pov/S called after it; and the
others all joined in chorus, “Yes, please do!” but the Mouse only shook
its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker.

“What a pity it wouldn't stay!” sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite
out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to her
daughter “Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose
#emph[your] temper!” “Hold your tongue, Ma!” said the young Crab, a
little snappishly. “You're enough to try the patience of an oyster!”

“I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!” alt/first and second or
third/pov/S said/said pov/S/ aloud, addressing nobody in particular.
“She'd soon fetch it back!”

“And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?” said the
Lory.

Pov/S replied eagerly, for pov/s vrb/be/ always ready to talk about
pov/p pet: “Dinah's our cat. And she's such a capital one for catching
mice you can't think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds!
Why, she'll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!”

This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the
birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very
carefully, remarking, “I really must be getting home; the night-air
doesn't suit my throat!” and a Canary called out in a trembling voice to
its children, “Come away, my dears! It's high time you were all in bed!”
On various pretexts they all moved off, and pov/S was soon left alone.

“I wish I hadn't mentioned Dinah!” pov/s said to pov/r in a melancholy
tone. “Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I'm sure she's the best
cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you
any more!” And here poor pov/S began to cry again, for pov/s felt very
lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, pov/s again heard a
little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and pov/s looked up
eagerly, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming
back to finish his story.