CHAPTER X. The Lobster Quadrille

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across
his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or
two sobs choked his voice. “Same as if he had a bone in his throat,”
said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in
the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears
running down his cheeks, he went on again:—

“You may not have lived much under the sea—” (“I haven’t,” said
Alice)—“and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—”
(Alice began to say “I once tasted—” but checked herself hastily, and
said “No, never”) “—so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a
Lobster Quadrille is!”

“No, indeed,” said Alice. “What sort of a dance is it?”

“Why,” said the Gryphon, “you first form into a line along the
sea-shore—”

“Two lines!” cried the Mock Turtle. “Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on;
then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—”

“_That_ generally takes some time,” interrupted the Gryphon.

“—you advance twice—”

“Each with a lobster as a partner!” cried the Gryphon.

“Of course,” the Mock Turtle said: “advance twice, set to partners—”

“—change lobsters, and retire in same order,” continued the Gryphon.

“Then, you know,” the Mock Turtle went on, “you throw the—”

“The lobsters!” shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air.

“—as far out to sea as you can—”

“Swim after them!” screamed the Gryphon.

“Turn a somersault in the sea!” cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly
about.

“Change lobsters again!” yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice.

“Back to land again, and that’s all the first figure,” said the Mock
Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had
been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very
sadly and quietly, and looked at Alice.

“It must be a very pretty dance,” said Alice timidly.

“Would you like to see a little of it?” said the Mock Turtle.

“Very much indeed,” said Alice.

“Come, let’s try the first figure!” said the Mock Turtle to the
Gryphon. “We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?”

“Oh, _you_ sing,” said the Gryphon. “I’ve forgotten the words.”

So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and
then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their
forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly
and sadly:—

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail.
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?

“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”

“Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,” said Alice,
feeling very glad that it was over at last: “and I do so like that
curious song about the whiting!”

“Oh, as to the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle, “they—you’ve seen them,
of course?”

“Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at dinn—” she checked herself
hastily.

“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle, “but if you’ve
seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.”

“I believe so,” Alice replied thoughtfully. “They have their tails in
their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.”

“You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the Mock Turtle: “crumbs would
all wash off in the sea. But they _have_ their tails in their mouths;
and the reason is—” here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his
eyes.—“Tell her about the reason and all that,” he said to the Gryphon.

“The reason is,” said the Gryphon, “that they _would_ go with the
lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to
fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they
couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.”

“Thank you,” said Alice, “it’s very interesting. I never knew so much
about a whiting before.”

“I can tell you more than that, if you like,” said the Gryphon. “Do you
know why it’s called a whiting?”

“I never thought about it,” said Alice. “Why?”

“_It does the boots and shoes_,” the Gryphon replied very solemnly.

Alice was thoroughly puzzled. “Does the boots and shoes!” she repeated
in a wondering tone.

“Why, what are _your_ shoes done with?” said the Gryphon. “I mean, what
makes them so shiny?”

Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her
answer. “They’re done with blacking, I believe.”

“Boots and shoes under the sea,” the Gryphon went on in a deep voice,
“are done with a whiting. Now you know.”

“And what are they made of?” Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.

“Soles and eels, of course,” the Gryphon replied rather impatiently:
“any shrimp could have told you that.”

“If I’d been the whiting,” said Alice, whose thoughts were still
running on the song, “I’d have said to the porpoise, ‘Keep back,
please: we don’t want _you_ with us!’”

“They were obliged to have him with them,” the Mock Turtle said: “no
wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.”

“Wouldn’t it really?” said Alice in a tone of great surprise.

“Of course not,” said the Mock Turtle: “why, if a fish came to _me_,
and told me he was going a journey, I should say ‘With what porpoise?’”

“Don’t you mean ‘purpose’?” said Alice.

“I mean what I say,” the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And
the Gryphon added “Come, let’s hear some of _your_ adventures.”

“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said
Alice a little timidly: “but it’s no use going back to yesterday,
because I was a different person then.”

“Explain all that,” said the Mock Turtle.

“No, no! The adventures first,” said the Gryphon in an impatient tone:
“explanations take such a dreadful time.”

So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first
saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first,
the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened
their eyes and mouths so _very_ wide, but she gained courage as she
went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part
about her repeating “_You are old, Father William_,” to the
Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the Mock
Turtle drew a long breath, and said “That’s very curious.”

“It’s all about as curious as it can be,” said the Gryphon.

“It all came different!” the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. “I
should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to
begin.” He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of
authority over Alice.

“Stand up and repeat ‘’_Tis the voice of the sluggard_,’” said the
Gryphon.

“How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!”
thought Alice; “I might as well be at school at once.” However, she got
up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster
Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came
very queer indeed:—

“’Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare,
“You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.”
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.”

[later editions continued as follows
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark,
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.]

“That’s different from what _I_ used to say when I was a child,” said
the Gryphon.

“Well, I never heard it before,” said the Mock Turtle; “but it sounds
uncommon nonsense.”

Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands,
wondering if anything would _ever_ happen in a natural way again.

“I should like to have it explained,” said the Mock Turtle.

“She can’t explain it,” said the Gryphon hastily. “Go on with the next
verse.”

“But about his toes?” the Mock Turtle persisted. “How _could_ he turn
them out with his nose, you know?”

“It’s the first position in dancing.” Alice said; but was dreadfully
puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject.

“Go on with the next verse,” the Gryphon repeated impatiently: “it
begins ‘_I passed by his garden_.’”

Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come
wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:—

“I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie—”

[later editions continued as follows
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet—]

“What _is_ the use of repeating all that stuff,” the Mock Turtle
interrupted, “if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the
most confusing thing _I_ ever heard!”

“Yes, I think you’d better leave off,” said the Gryphon: and Alice was
only too glad to do so.

“Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?” the Gryphon
went on. “Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?”

“Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,” Alice
replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone,
“Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her ‘_Turtle Soup_,’ will you, old
fellow?”

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this:—

“Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!

“Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for two p
ennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!”

“Chorus again!” cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun
to repeat it, when a cry of “The trial’s beginning!” was heard in the
distance.

“Come on!” cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried
off, without waiting for the end of the song.

“What trial is it?” Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only
answered “Come on!” and ran the faster, while more and more faintly
came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:—

“Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!”