'Wake up, Alice dear!' said her sister; 'Why, what a long sleep you've had!'
'Oh, I've had such a curious dream!' said Alice, and she told her sister, as well
as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just
been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, 'It
WAS a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late.'
So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful
dream it had been.
But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching
the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till
she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream:--
First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were
clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers-she
could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her
head to keep back the wandering hair that WOULD always get into her eyes-and
still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became
alive the strange creatures of her little sister's dream.
The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by-the
frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool-she could hear the
rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending
meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to
execution-once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess's knee, while plates
and dishes crashed around it-once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking
of the Lizard's slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs,
filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle.
So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though
she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality-the
grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of
the reeds-the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the
Queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy-and the sneeze of the baby,
the shriek of the Gryphon, and all thy other queer noises, would change (she knew)
to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard-while the lowing of the cattle in the
distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle's heavy sobs.
Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the
after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper
years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about
her other little children, and make THEIR eyes bright and eager with many a strange
tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel
with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys,
remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.
THE END
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