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The Nursery Alice written by Lewis Carroll who was an English writer, mathematician, logician, Anglican deacon, and photographer. This book was published in 1889. And now republish in ebook format. We believe this work is culturally important in its original archival form. While we strive to adequately clean and digitally enhance the original work, there are occasionally instances where imperfections such as missing pages, poor pictures or errant marks may have been introduced due to either the quality of the original work. Despite these occasional imperfections, we have brought it back into print as part of our ongoing global book preservation commitment, providing customers with access to the best possible historical reprints. We appreciate your understanding of these occasional imperfections, and sincerely hope you enjoy reading this book.
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The Nursery Alice
I. THE WHITE RABBIT.
II. HOW ALICE GREW TALL.
III. THE POOL OF TEARS.
IV. THE CAUCUS-RACE.
V. BILL, THE LIZARD.
VI. THE DEAR LITTLE PUPPY.
VII. THE BLUE CATERPILLAR.
VIII. THE PIG-BABY.
IX. THE CHESHIRE-CAT.
X. THE MAD TEA-PARTY.
XI. THE QUEEN’S GARDEN.
XII. THE LOBSTER-QUADRILLE.
XIII. WHO STOLE THE TARTS?
XIV. THE SHOWER OF CARDS.
A Mother’s breast:
Safe refuge from her childish fears,
From childish troubles, childish tears,
Mists that enshroud her dawning years!
See how in sleep she seems to sing
A voiceless psalm—an offering
Raised, to the glory of her King,
In Love: for Love is Rest.
A Darling’s kiss:
Dearest of all the signs that fleet
From lips that lovingly repeat
Again, again, their message sweet!
Full to the brim with girlish glee,
A child, a very child is she,
Whose dream of Heaven is still to be
A: Home: for Home is Bliss.
(ADDRESSED TO ANY MOTHER.)
I have reason to believe that “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” has been read by some hundreds of English Children, aged from Five to Fifteen: also by Children, aged from Fifteen to Twenty-five: yet again by Children, aged from Twenty-five to Thirty-five: and even by Children—for there are such—Children in whom no waning of health and strength, no weariness of the solemn mockery, and the gaudy glitter, and the hopeless misery, of Life has availed to parch the pure fountain of joy that wells up in all child-like hearts—Children of a “certain” age, whose tale of years must be left untold, and buried in respectful silence.
And my ambition now is (is it a vain one?) to be read by Children aged from Nought to Five. To be read? Nay, not so! Say rather to be thumbed, to be cooed over, to be dogs’-eared, to be rumpled, to be kissed, by the illiterate, ungrammatical, dimpled Darlings, that fill your Nursery with merry uproar, and your inmost heart of hearts with a restful gladness!
Such, for instance, as a child I once knew, who—having been carefully instructed that one of any earthly thing was enough for any little girl; and that to ask for two buns, two oranges, two of anything, would certainly bring upon her the awful charge of being “greedy”—was found one morning sitting up in bed, solemnly regarding her two little naked feet, and murmuring to herself, softly and penitently, “deedy!”
Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Alice: and she had a very curious dream.
Would you like to hear what it was that she dreamed about?
Well, this was the first thing that happened. A White Rabbit came running by, in a great hurry; and, just as it passed Alice, it stopped, and took its watch out of its pocket.
Wasn’t that a funny thing? Did you ever see a Rabbit that had a watch, and a pocket to put it in? Of course, when a Rabbit has a watch, it must have a pocket to put it in: it would never do to carry it about in its mouth——and it wants its hands sometimes, to run about with.
Hasn’t it got pretty pink eyes (I think all White Rabbits have pink eyes); and pink ears; and a nice brown coat; and you can just see its red pocket-handkerchief peeping out of its coat-pocket: and, what with its blue neck-tie and its yellow waistcoat, it really is very nicely dressed.
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