Summarize in plain English: Alice 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 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!' 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!
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.
Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time, as she went down, to look about her. First, she tried to make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed. It was labeled 'ORANGE MARMALADE,' but, to her great disappointment, it was empty; she did not like to drop the jar, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.
Down, down, down! Would the fall never come to an end? There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking to herself. '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!' Alice felt that she was dozing off, 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 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, my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen.
She found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof. There were doors all 'round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.
Suddenly she came upon a little table, all made of solid glass. There was nothing on it but a tiny golden key, and Alice's first idea was that this might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but, at any rate, it would not open any of them. However, on the second time 'round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high. She tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight, it fitted!
Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole; she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway. 'Oh,' said Alice, 'how I wish I could


Summarize in plain English: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle
I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
I.
To Sherlock Holmes she is always _the_ woman. I have seldom heard him
mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and
predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion
akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly,
were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He
was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that
the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a
false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe
and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for
drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained
reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely
adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might
throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive
instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not
be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And
yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene
Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.
I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away
from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred
interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master
of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention,
while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian
soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old
books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition,
the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen
nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime,
and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of
observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those
mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police.
From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his
summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up
of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and
finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and
successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of
his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of
the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.
One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning from a
journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when
my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered
door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and
with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a
keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his
extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I
looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette
against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his
head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who
knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own
story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created
dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell
and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own.
His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think,
to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved
me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a
spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire
and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion.
“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put
on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”
“Seven!” I answered.
“Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I
fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me
that you intended to go into harness.”
“Then, how do you know?”
“I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting
yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless
servant girl?”
“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have
been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a
country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I
have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary
Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there,
again, I fail to see how you work it out.”
He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.
“It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside
of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is
scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by
someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in
order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double
deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a
particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As
to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of
iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right
forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where
he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not
pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession.”
I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his
process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked,
“the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I
could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your
reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I
believe that my eyes are as good as yours.”
“Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself
down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. The
distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps
which lead up from the hall to this room.”
“Frequently.”
“How often?”
“Well, some hundreds of times.”
“Then how many are there?”
“How many? I don’t know.”
“Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just
my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have
both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in these
little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two
of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this.” He threw
over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying open
upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it aloud.”
The note was undated, and without either signature or address.
“There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o’clock,” it
said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very
deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of
Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with
matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated.
This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your
chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor
wear a mask.”
“This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it
means?”
“I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has
data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of
theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from
it?”
I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was
written.
“The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked,
endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper could not
be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and
stiff.”
“Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English
paper at all. Hold it up to the light.”
I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large “G”
with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper.
“What do you make of that?” asked Holmes.
“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram


Summarize in plain English: CHAPTER I.
Looking-Glass house
One thing was certain, that the _white_ kitten had had nothing to do
with it:—it was the black kitten’s fault entirely. For the white kitten
had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of
an hour (and bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it
_couldn’t_ have had any hand in the mischief.
The way Dinah washed her children’s faces was this: first she held the
poor thing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other paw
she rubbed its face all over, the wrong way, beginning at the nose: and
just now, as I said, she was hard at work on the white kitten, which
was lying quite still and trying to purr—no doubt feeling that it was
all meant for its good.
But the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the afternoon,
and so, while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner of the great
arm-chair, half talking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had been
having a grand game of romps with the ball of worsted Alice had been
trying to wind up, and had been rolling it up and down till it had all
come undone again; and there it was, spread over the hearth-rug, all
knots and tangles, with the kitten running after its own tail in the
middle.
“Oh, you wicked little thing!” cried Alice, catching up the kitten, and
giving it a little kiss to make it understand that it was in disgrace.
“Really, Dinah ought to have taught you better manners! You _ought_,
Dinah, you know you ought!” she added, looking reproachfully at the old
cat, and speaking in as cross a voice as she could manage—and then she
scrambled back into the arm-chair, taking the kitten and the worsted
with her, and began winding up the ball again. But she didn’t get on
very fast, as she was talking all the time, sometimes to the kitten,
and sometimes to herself. Kitty sat very demurely on her knee,
pretending to watch the progress of the winding, and now and then
putting out one paw and gently touching the ball, as if it would be
glad to help, if it might.
“Do you know what to-morrow is, Kitty?” Alice began. “You’d have
guessed if you’d been up in the window with me—only Dinah was making
you tidy, so you couldn’t. I was watching the boys getting in sticks
for the bonfire—and it wants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so
cold, and it snowed so, they had to leave off. Never mind, Kitty, we’ll
go and see the bonfire to-morrow.” Here Alice wound two or three turns
of the worsted round the kitten’s neck, just to see how it would look:
this led to a scramble, in which the ball rolled down upon the floor,
and yards and yards of it got unwound again.
“Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty,” Alice went on as soon as they
were comfortably settled again, “when I saw all the mischief you had
been doing, I was very nearly opening the window, and putting you out
into the snow! And you’d have deserved it, you little mischievous
darling! What have you got to say for yourself? Now don’t interrupt
me!” she went on, holding up one finger. “I’m going to tell you all
your faults. Number one: you squeaked twice while Dinah was washing
your face this morning. Now you can’t deny it, Kitty: I heard you!
What’s that you say?” (pretending that the kitten was speaking.) “Her
paw went into your eye? Well, that’s _your_ fault, for keeping your
eyes open—if you’d shut them tight up, it wouldn’t have happened. Now
don’t make any more excuses, but listen! Number two: you pulled
Snowdrop away by the tail just as I had put down the saucer of milk
before her! What, you were thirsty, were you? How do you know she
wasn’t thirsty too? Now for number three: you unwound every bit of the
worsted while I wasn’t looking!
“That’s three faults, Kitty, and you’ve not been punished for any of
them yet. You know I’m saving up all your punishments for Wednesday
week—Suppose they had saved up all _my_ punishments!” she went on,
talking more to herself than the kitten. “What _would_ they do at the
end of a year? I should be sent to prison, I suppose, when the day
came. Or—let me see—suppose each punishment was to be going without a
dinner: then, when the miserable day came, I should have to go without
fifty dinners at once! Well, I shouldn’t mind _that_ much! I’d far
rather go without them than eat them!
“Do you hear the snow against the window-panes, Kitty? How nice and
soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over
outside. I wonder if the snow _loves_ the trees and fields, that it
kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with
a white quilt; and perhaps it says, ‘Go to sleep, darlings, till the
summer comes again.’ And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they
dress themselves all in green, and dance about—whenever the wind
blows—oh, that’s very pretty!” cried Alice, dropping the ball of
worsted to clap her hands. “And I do so _wish_ it was true! I’m sure
the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown.
“Kitty, can you play chess? Now, don’t smile, my dear, I’m asking it
seriously. Because, when we were playing just now, you watched just as
if you understood it: and when I said ‘Check!’ you purred! Well, it
_was_ a nice check, Kitty, and really I might have won, if it hadn’t
been for that nasty Knight, that came wiggling down among my pieces.
Kitty, dear, let’s pretend—” And here I wish I could tell you half the
things Alice used to say, beginning with her favourite phrase “Let’s
pretend.” She had had quite a long argument with her sister only the
day before—all because Alice had begun with “Let’s pretend we’re kings
and queens;” and her sister, who liked being very exact, had argued
that they couldn’t, because there were only two of them, and Alice had
been reduced at last to say, “Well, _you_ can be one of them then, and
_I’ll_ be all the rest.” And once she had really frightened her old
nurse by shouting suddenly in her ear, “Nurse! Do let’s pretend that
I’m a hungry hyaena, and you’re a bone.”
But this is taking us away from Alice’s speech to the kitten. “Let’s
pretend that you’re the Red Queen, Kitty! Do you know, I think if you
sat up and folded your arms, you’d look exactly like her. Now do try,
there’s a dear!” And Alice got the Red Queen off the table, and set it
up before the kitten as a model for it to imitate: however, the thing
didn’t succeed, principally, Alice said, because the kitten wouldn’t
fold its arms properly. So, to punish it, she held it up to the
Looking-glass, that it might see how sulky it was—“and if you’re not
good directly,” she added, “I’ll put you through into Looking-glass
House. How would you like _that_?”
“Now, if you’ll only attend, Kitty, and not talk so much, I’ll tell you
all my ideas about Looking-glass House. First, there’s the room you can
see through the glass—that’s just the same as our drawing room, only
the things go the other way. I can see all of it when I get upon a
chair—all but the bit behind the fireplace. Oh! I do so wish I could
see _that_ bit! I want so much to know whether they’ve a fire in the
winter: you never _can_ tell, you know, unless our fire smokes, and
then smoke comes up in that room too—but that may be only pretence,
just to make it look as if they had a fire. Well then, the books are
something like our books, only the words go the wrong way; I know that,
because I’ve held up one of our books to the glass, and then they hold
up one in the other room.
“How would you like to live in Looking-glass House, Kitty? I wonder if
they’d give you milk in there? Perhaps Looking-glass milk isn’t good to
drink—But oh, Kitty! now we come to the passage. You can just see a
little _peep_ of the passage in Looking-glass House, if you leave the
door of our drawing-room wide open: and it’s very like our passage as
far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond.
Oh, Kitty! how nice it would be if we could only get through into
Looking-glass House! I’m sure it’s got, oh! such beautiful things in
it! Let’s pretend there’s a way of getting through into it, somehow,
Kitty. Let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we
can get through. Why, it’s turning into a sort of mist now, I declare!
It’ll be easy enough to get through—” She was up on the chimney-piece
while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And
certainly the glass _was_ beginning to melt away, just like a bright
silvery mist.
In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly
down into the Looking-glass room. The very first thing she did was to
look whether there was a fire in the fireplace, and she was quite
pleased to find that there was a real one, blazing away as brightly as
the one she had left behind. “So I shall be as warm here as I was in
the old room,” thought Alice: “warmer, in fact, because there’ll be no
one here to scold me away from the fire. Oh, what fun it’ll be, when
they see me through the glass in here, and can’t get at me!”
Then she began looking about, and noticed that what could be seen from
the old room was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest
was as different as possible. For instance, the pictures on the wall
next the fire seemed to be all alive, and the very clock on the
chimney-piece (you know you can only see the back of it in the
Looking-glass) had got the face of a little old man, and grinned at
her.
“They don’t keep this room so tidy as the other,” Alice thought to
herself, as she noticed several of the chessmen down in the hearth
among the cinders: but in another moment, with a little “Oh!” of
surprise, she was down on her hands and knees watching them. The
chessmen were walking about, two and two!
“Here are the Red King and the Red Queen,” Alice said (in a whisper,
for fear of frightening them), “and there are the White King and the
White Queen sitting on the edge of the shovel—and here are two castles
walking arm in arm—I don’t think they can hear me,” she went on, as she
put her head closer down, “and I’m nearly sure they can’t see me. I
feel somehow as if I were invisible—”
Here something began squeaking on the table behind Alice, and made her
turn her head just in time to see one of the White Pawns roll over and
begin kicking: she watched it with great curiosity to see what would
happen next.
“It is the voice of my child!” the White Queen cried out as she rushed
past the King, so violently that she knocked him over among the
cinders. “My precious Lily! My imperial kitten!” and she began
scrambling wildly up the side of the fender.
“Imperial fiddlestick!” said the King, rubbing his nose, which had been
hurt by the fall. He had a right to be a _little_ annoyed with the
Queen, for he was covered with ashes from head to foot.
Alice was very anxious to be of use, and, as the poor little Lily was
nearly screaming herself into a fit, she hastily picked up the Queen
and set her on the table by the side of her noisy little daughter.
The Queen gasped, and sat down: the rapid journey through the air had
quite taken away her breath and for a minute or two she could do
nothing but hug the little Lily in silence. As soon as she had
recovered her breath a little, she called out to the White King, who
was sitting sulkily among the ashes, “Mind the volcano!”
“What volcano?” said the King, looking up anxiously into the fire, as
if he thought that was the most likely place to find one.
“Blew—me—up,” panted the Queen, who was still a little out of breath.
“Mind you come up—the regular way—don’t get blown up!”
Alice watched the White King as he slowly struggled up from bar to bar,
till at last she said, “Why, you’ll be hours and hours getting to the
table, at that rate. I’d far better help you, hadn


Summarize in plain English: THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK
By Various
Edited by Andrew Lang
THE BRONZE RING
Once upon a time in a certain country there lived a king whose palace
was surrounded by a spacious garden. But, though the gardeners were many
and the soil was good, this garden yielded neither flowers nor fruits,
not even grass or shady trees.
The King was in despair about it, when a wise old man said to him:
“Your gardeners do not understand their business: but what can you
expect of men whose fathers were cobblers and carpenters? How should
they have learned to cultivate your garden?”
“You are quite right,” cried the King.
“Therefore,” continued the old man, “you should send for a gardener
whose father and grandfather have been gardeners before him, and very
soon your garden will be full of green grass and gay flowers, and you
will enjoy its delicious fruit.”
So the King sent messengers to every town, village, and hamlet in his
dominions, to look for a gardener whose forefathers had been gardeners
also, and after forty days one was found.
“Come with us and be gardener to the King,” they said to him.
“How can I go to the King,” said the gardener, “a poor wretch like me?”
“That is of no consequence,” they answered. “Here are new clothes for
you and your family.”
“But I owe money to several people.”
“We will pay your debts,” they said.
So the gardener allowed himself to be persuaded, and went away with
the messengers, taking his wife and his son with him; and the King,
delighted to have found a real gardener, entrusted him with the care
of his garden. The man found no difficulty in making the royal garden
produce flowers and fruit, and at the end of a year the park was not
like the same place, and the King showered gifts upon his new servant.
The gardener, as you have heard already, had a son, who was a very
handsome young man, with most agreeable manners, and every day he
carried the best fruit of the garden to the King, and all the prettiest
flowers to his daughter. Now this princess was wonderfully pretty and
was just sixteen years old, and the King was beginning to think it was
time that she should be married.
“My dear child,” said he, “you are of an age to take a husband,
therefore I am thinking of marrying you to the son of my prime minister.
“Father,” replied the Princess, “I will never marry the son of the
minister.”
“Why not?” asked the King.
“Because I love the gardener’s son,” answered the Princess.
On hearing this the King was at first very angry, and then he wept and
sighed, and declared that such a husband was not worthy of his daughter;
but the young Princess was not to be turned from her resolution to marry
the gardener’s son.
Then the King consulted his ministers. “This is what you must do,” they
said. “To get rid of the gardener you must send both suitors to a
very distant country, and the one who returns first shall marry your
daughter.”
The King followed this advice, and the minister’s son was presented with
a splendid horse and a purse full of gold pieces, while the gardener’s
son had only an old lame horse and a purse full of copper money, and
every one thought he would never come back from his journey.
The day before they started the Princess met her lover and said to him:
“Be brave, and remember always that I love you. Take this purse full of
jewels and make the best use you can of them for love of me, and come
back quickly and demand my hand.”
The two suitors left the town together, but the minister’s son went off
at a gallop on his good horse, and very soon was lost to sight behind
the most distant hills. He traveled on for some days, and presently
reached a fountain beside which an old woman all in rags sat upon a
stone.
“Good-day to you, young traveler,” said she.
But the minister’s son made no reply.
“Have pity upon me, traveler,” she said again. “I am dying of hunger,
as you see, and three days have I been here and no one has given me
anything.”
“Let me alone, old witch,” cried the young man; “I can do nothing for
you,” and so saying he went on his way.
That same evening the gardener’s son rode up to the fountain upon his
lame gray horse.
“Good-day to you, young traveler,” said the beggar-woman.
“Good-day, good woman,” answered he.
“Young traveler, have pity upon me.”
“Take my purse, good woman,” said he, “and mount behind me, for your
legs can’t be very strong.”
The old woman didn’t wait to be asked twice, but mounted behind him,
and in this style they reached the chief city of a powerful kingdom. The
minister’s son was lodged in a grand inn, the gardener’s son and the old
woman dismounted at the inn for beggars.
The next day the gardener’s son heard a great noise in the street, and
the King’s heralds passed, blowing all kinds of instruments, and crying:
“The King, our master, is old and infirm. He will give a great reward to
whoever will cure him and give him back the strength of his youth.”
Then the old beggar-woman said to her benefactor:
“This is what you must do to obtain the reward which the King promises.
Go out of the town by the south gate, and there you will find three
little dogs of different colors; the first will be white, the second
black, the third red. You must kill them and then burn them separately,
and gather up the ashes. Put the ashes of each dog into a bag of its own
color, then go before the door of the palace and cry out, ‘A celebrated
physician has come from Janina in Albania. He alone can cure the King
and give him back the strength of his youth.’ The King’s physicians will
say, This is an impostor, and not a learned man,’ and they will make all
sorts of difficulties, but you will overcome them all at last, and will
present yourself before the sick King. You must then demand as much wood
as three mules can carry, and a great cauldron, and must shut yourself
up in a room with the Sultan, and when the cauldron boils you must throw
him into it, and there leave him until his flesh is completely separated
from his bones. Then arrange the bones in their proper places, and throw
over them the ashes out of the three bags. The King will come back to
life, and will be just as he was when he was twenty years old. For your
reward you must demand the bronze ring which has the power to grant
you everything you desire. Go, my son, and do not forget any of my
instructions.”
The young man followed the old beggar-woman’s directions. On going out
of the town he found the white, red, and black dogs, and killed and
burnt them, gathering the ashes in three bags. Then he ran to the palace
and cried:
“A celebrated physician has just come from Janina in Albania. He alone
can cure the King and give him back the strength of his youth.”
The King’s physicians at first laughed at the unknown wayfarer, but the
Sultan ordered that the stranger should be admitted. They brought the
cauldron and the loads of wood, and very soon the King was boiling away.
Toward mid-day the gardener’s son arranged the bones in their places,
and he had hardly scattered the ashes over them before the old King
revived, to find himself once more young and hearty.
“How can I reward you, my benefactor?” he cried. “Will you take half my
treasures?”
“No,” said the gardener’s son.
“My daughter’s hand?”
“_No_.”
“Take half my kingdom.”
“No. Give me only the bronze ring which can instantly grant me anything
I wish for.”
“Alas!” said the King, “I set great store by that marvelous ring;
nevertheless, you shall have it.” And he gave it to him.
The gardener’s son went back to say good-by to the old beggar-woman;
then he said to the bronze ring:
“Prepare a splendid ship in which I may continue my journey. Let the
hull be of fine gold, the masts of silver, the sails of brocade; let
the crew consist of twelve young men of noble appearance, dressed like
kings. St. Nicholas will be at the helm. As to the cargo, let it be
diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and carbuncles.”
And immediately a ship appeared upon the sea which resembled in every
particular the description given by the gardener’s son, and, stepping
on board, he continued his journey. Presently he arrived at a great town
and established himself in a wonderful palace. After several days he
met his rival, the minister’s son, who had spent all his money and was
reduced to the disagreeable employment of a carrier of dust and rubbish.
The gardener’s son said to him:
“What is your name, what is your family, and from what country do you
come?”
“I am the son of the prime minister of a great nation, and yet see what
a degrading occupation I am reduced to.”
“Listen to me; though I don’t know anything more about you, I am willing
to help you. I will give you a ship to take you back to your own country
upon one condition.”
“Whatever it may be, I accept it willingly.”
“Follow me to my palace.”
The minister’s son followed the rich stranger, whom he had not
recognized. When they reached the palace the gardener’s son made a sign
to his slaves, who completely undressed the new-comer.
“Make this ring red-hot,” commanded the master, “and mark the man with
it upon his back.”
The slaves obeyed him.
“Now, young man,” said the rich stranger, “I am going to give you a
vessel which will take you back to your own country.”
And, going out, he took the bronze ring and said:
“Bronze ring, obey thy master. Prepare me a ship of which the
half-rotten timbers shall be painted black, let the sails be in rags,
and the sailors infirm and sickly. One shall have lost a leg, another
an arm, the third shall be a hunchback, another lame or club-footed or
blind, and most of them shall be ugly and covered with scars. Go, and
let my orders be executed.”
The minister’s son embarked in this old vessel, and thanks to favorable
winds, at length reached his own country. In spite of the pitiable
condition in which he returned they received him joyfully.
“I am the first to come back,” said he to the King; now fulfil your
promise, and give me the princess in marriage.
So they at once began to prepare for the wedding festivities. As to the
poor princess, she was sorrowful and angry enough about it.
The next morning, at daybreak, a wonderful ship with every sail set came
to anchor before the town. The King happened at that moment to be at the
palace window.
“What strange ship is this,” he cried, “that has a golden hull, silver
masts, and silken sails, and who are the young men like princes who man
it? And do I not see St. Nicholas at the helm? Go at once and invite the
captain of the ship to come to the palace.”
His servants obeyed him, and very soon in came an enchantingly handsome
young prince, dressed in rich silk, ornamented with pearls and diamonds.
“Young man,” said the King, “you are welcome, whoever you may be. Do me
the favor to be my guest as long as you remain in my capital.”
“Many thanks, sire,” replied the captain, “I accept your offer.”
“My daughter is about to be married,” said the King; “will you give her
away?”
“I shall be charmed, sire.”
Soon after came the Princess and her betrothed.
“Why, how is this?” cried the young captain; “would you marry this
charming princess to such a man as that?”
“But he is my prime minister’s son!”
“What does that matter? I cannot give your daughter away. The man she is
betrothed to is one of my servants.”
“Your servant?”
“Without doubt. I met him in a distant town reduced to carrying away
dust and rubbish from the houses. I had pity on him and engaged him as
one of my servants.”
“It is impossible!” cried the King.
“Do you wish me to prove what I say? This young man returned in a vessel
which I fitted out for him, an unseaworthy ship with a black battered
hull, and the sailors were infirm and crippled.”
“It is quite true,” said the King.
“It is false,” cried the minister’s son. “I do not know this man!”
“Sire,” said the young captain, “order your daughter’s betrothed to be
stripped, and see if the mark of my ring is not branded upon his back.”
The King was about to give this order, when the minister’s son, to save
himself from such an indignity, admitted that the story was true.
“And now, sire,” said the young captain, “do you not recognize me?”
“I recognize you,” said the Princess; “you are the gardener’s son whom I
have always loved, and it is you I wish to marry.”
“Young man, you shall be my son-in-law,” cried the King. “The marriage
festivities are already begun, so you shall marry my daughter this very
day.”
And so that very day the gardener’s son married the beautiful Princess.
Several months passed. The young couple were as happy as the day was
long, and the King was more and more pleased with himself for having
secured such a son-in-law.
But, presently, the captain of the golden ship found it necessary to
take a long voyage, and after embracing his wife tenderly he embarked.
Now in the outskirts of the capital there lived an old man, who had
spent his life in studying black arts--alchemy, astrology, magic,
and enchantment. This man found out that the gardener’s son had only
succeeded in marrying the Princess by the help of the genii who obeyed
the bronze ring.
“I will have that ring,” said he to himself. So he went down to the
sea-shore and caught some little red fishes. Really, they were
quite wonderfully pretty. Then he came back, and, passing before the
Princess’s window, he began to cry out:
“Who wants some pretty little red fishes?”
The Princess heard him, and sent out one of her slaves, who said to the
old peddler:
“What will you take for your fish?”
“A bronze ring.”
“A bronze ring, old simpleton! And where shall I find one?”
“Under the cushion in the Princess’s room.”
The slave went back to her mistress.
“The old madman will take neither gold nor silver,” said she.
“What does he want then?”
“A bronze ring that is hidden under a cushion.”
“Find the ring and give it to him,” said the Princess.
And at last the slave found the bronze ring, which the captain of the
golden ship had accidentally left behind and carried it to the man, who
made off with it instantly.
Hardly had he reached his own house when, taking the ring, he said,
“Bronze ring, obey thy master. I desire that the golden ship shall turn
to black wood, and the crew to hideous negroes; that St. Nicholas shall
leave the helm and that the only cargo shall be black cats.”
And the genii of the bronze ring obeyed him.
Finding himself upon the sea in this miserable condition, the young
captain understood that some one must have stolen the bronze ring from
him, and he lamented his misfortune loudly; but that did him no good.
“Alas!” he said to himself, “whoever has taken my ring has probably
taken my dear wife also. What good will it do me to go back to my own
country?” And he sailed about from island to island, and from shore to
shore, believing that wherever he went everybody was laughing at him,
and very soon his poverty was so great that he and his crew and the poor
black cats had nothing to eat but herbs and roots. After wandering about
a long time he reached an island inhabited by mice. The captain landed
upon the shore and began to explore the country. There were mice
everywhere, and nothing but mice. Some of the black cats had followed
him, and, not having been fed for several days, they were fearfully
hungry, and made terrible havoc among the mice.
Then the queen of the mice held a council.
“These cats will eat every one of us,” she said, “if the captain of the
ship does not shut the ferocious animals up. Let us send a deputation to
him of the bravest among us.”
Several mice offered themselves for this mission and set out to find the
young captain.
“Captain,” said they, “go away quickly from our island, or we shall
perish, every mouse of us.”
“Willingly,” replied the young captain, “upon one condition. That is
that you shall first bring me back a bronze ring which some clever
magician has stolen from me. If you do not do this I will land all my
cats upon your island, and you shall be exterminated.”
The mice withdrew in great dismay. “What is to be done?” said the Queen.
“How can we find this bronze ring?” She held a new council, calling in
mice from every quarter of the globe, but nobody knew where the bronze
ring was. Suddenly three mice arrived from a very distant country. One
was blind, the second lame, and the third had her ears cropped.
“Ho, ho, ho!” said the new-comers. “We come from a far distant country.”
“Do you know where the bronze ring is which the genii obey?”
“Ho, ho, ho! we know; an old sorcerer has taken possession of it, and
now he keeps it in his pocket by day and in his mouth by night.”
“Go and take it from him, and come back as soon as possible.”
So the three mice made themselves a boat and set sail for the magician’s
country. When they reached the capital they landed and ran to the


Summarize in plain English: Alice 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 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!' 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!
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.
Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time, as she went down, to look about her. First, she tried to make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed. It was labeled 'ORANGE MARMALADE,' but, to her great disappointment, it was empty; she did not like to drop the jar, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.
Down, down, down! Would the fall never come to an end? There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking to herself. '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!' Alice felt that she was dozing off, 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 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, my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen.
She found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof. There were doors all 'round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.
Suddenly she came upon a little table, all made of solid glass. There was nothing on it but a tiny golden key, and Alice's first idea was that this might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but, at any rate, it would not open any of them. However, on the second time 'round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high. She tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight, it fitted!
Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole; she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway. 'Oh,' said Alice, 'how I wish I could shut up like a telescope!  I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.'
Alice went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate, a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes. This time she found a little bottle on it ('which certainly was not here before,' said Alice), and tied 'round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words 'DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large letters.
'No, I'll look first,' she said, 'and see whether it's marked '_poison_' or not,' for she had never forgotten that, if you drink from a bottle marked 'poison,' it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later. However, this bottle was _not_ marked 'poison,' so Alice ventured to taste it, and, finding it very nice (it had a sort of mixed flavor of cherry-tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffy and hot buttered toast), she very soon finished it off.
'What a curious feeling!' said Alice. 'I must be shutting up like a telescope!'
And so it was indeed! She was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden.
After awhile, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! When she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery, and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.
'Come, there's no use in crying like that!' said Alice to herself rather sharply. 'I advise you to leave off this minute!' She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes.
Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it and found in it a very small cake, on which the words 'EAT ME' were beautifully marked in currants. 'Well, I'll eat it,' said Alice, 'and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door: so either way I'll get into the garden, and I don't care which happens!'
She ate a little bit and said anxiously to herself, 'Which way? Which way?' holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way she was growing; and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size. So she set to work and very soon finished off the cake. [Illustration]
II--THE POOL OF TEARS
'Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice (she was so much surprised that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English). 'Now I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-by, feet! Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you.'
Just at this moment her head struck against the roof of the hall; in fact, she was now rather more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key and hurried off to the garden door. Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more
hopeless than ever. She sat down and began to cry again.
She went on shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all 'round her and reaching half down the hall. After a time, she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance and she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid-gloves in one hand and a large fan in the other. He came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself, 'Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh!  _won't_ she be savage if I've kept her waiting!'
When the Rabbit came near her, Alice began, in a low, timid voice, 'If you please, sir--' The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid-gloves and the fan and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go.
Alice took up the fan and gloves and she kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking. 'Dear, dear! How queer everything is to-day!  And yesterday things went on just as usual. _Was_ I the same when I got up this morning? But if I'm not the same, the next question is, 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, _that's_ the great puzzle!'
As she said this, she looked down at her hands and was surprised to see that she had put on one of the Rabbit's little white kid-gloves while she was talking. 'How _can_ I have done that?' she thought. 'I must be growing small again.' She got up and went to the table to measure herself by it and found that she was now about two feet high and was going on shrinking rapidly. She soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding and she dropped it hastily, just in time to save herself from shrinking away altogether.
'That _was_ a narrow escape!' said Alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence. 'And now for the garden!' And she ran with all speed back to the little door; but, alas! the little door was shut again and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before. 'Things are worse than ever,' thought the poor child, 'for I never was so small as this before, never!'
As she said these words, her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she was up to her chin in salt-water. Her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea. However, she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high.
Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to see what it was: she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself.
'Would it be of any use, now,' thought Alice, 'to speak to this mouse?  Everything is so out-of-the-way down here that I should think very likely it can talk; at any rate, there's no harm in trying.' So she began, 'O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about here, O Mouse!' The Mouse looked at her rather inquisitively and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing.
'Perhaps it doesn't understand English,' thought Alice. 'I dare say it's a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.' So she began again: 'Où est ma chatte?' which was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water and seemed to quiver all over with fright. 'Oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings. 'I quite forgot you didn't like cats.'
'Not like cats!' cried the Mouse in a shrill, passionate voice. 'Would _you_ like cats, if you were me?'
'Well, perhaps not,' said Alice in a soothing tone; 'don't be angry about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah. I think you'd take a fancy to cats, if you could only see her. She is such a dear, quiet thing.' The Mouse was bristling all over and she felt certain it must be really offended. 'We won't talk about her any more, if you'd rather not.'
'We, indeed!' cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of its tail. 'As if _I_ would talk on such a subject! Our family always _hated_ cats--nasty, low, vulgar things! Don't let me hear the name again!'
'I won't indeed!' said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of conversation. 'Are you--are you fond--of--of dogs? There is such a nice little dog near our house, I should like to show you! It kills all the rats and--oh, dear!' cried Alice in a sorrowful tone. 'I'm afraid I've offended it again!' For the Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went.
So she called softly after it, 'Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we won't talk about cats, or dogs either, if you don't like them!' When the Mouse heard this, it turned 'round and swam slowly back to her; its face was quite pale, and it said, in a low, trembling voice, 'Let us get to the shore and then I'll tell you my history and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.'
It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the
birds and animals that had fallen into it; there were a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the way and the whole party swam to the shore. [Illustration]
III--A CAUCUS-RACE AND A LONG TALE
They 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. They had a consultation about this and after a few minutes, it seemed quite natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life.
At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of some authority among them, called out, 'Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! _I'll_ soon make you dry enough!' They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in the middle.
'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 favored 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.
'--'And even Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it
advisable'--'
'Found _what_?' said the Duck.
'Found _it_,' the Mouse replied rather crossly; 'of course, you know
what 'it' means.'
'I know what 'it' means well enough, when _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.'--How are you getting on now, my dear?' it continued, turning to Alice as it spoke.
'As wet as ever,' said Alice 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!'
'What I was going to say,' said the Dodo in an offended tone, 'is that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.'
'What _is_ a Caucus-race?' said Alice.
'Why,' said the Dodo, 'the best way to explain it is to do it.' First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no 'One, two, three and away!' but they began running when they liked and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over.  However, when they had been running half an hour or so and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out, 'The race is over!' and they all crowded 'round it, panting and asking, 'But who has won?'
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought.  At last it said, '_Everybody_ has won, and _all_ must have prizes.'
'But who is to give the prizes?' quite a chorus of voices asked.
'Why, _she_, of course,' said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded 'round her, calling out, in a confused way, 'Prizes! Prizes!'
Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand into her 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.
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 they sat down again in a ring and begged the Mouse to tell them something more.
'You promised to tell me your history, you know,' said Alice, 'and why it is you hate--C and D,' she 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 Alice and sighing.
'It _is_ a long tail, certainly,' said Alice, looking down with wonder at the Mouse's tail, 'but why do you call it sad?' And she kept on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:--
    'Fury said to
      a mouse, That
         he met in the
            house, 'Let
              us both go
                to law: _I_
                 will prosecute
               _you_.--
                 Come, I'll
              take no denial:
             We
           must have
        the trial;
     For really
    this morning
    I've
    nothing
    to do.'
    Said the
     mouse to
      the cur,
       'Such a
        trial, dear
           sir, With
               no jury
                or judge,
                   would
                  be wasting
                our
             breath.'
         'I'll be
        judge,
       I'll be
      jury,'
     said
    cunning
    old
     Fury;
      'I'll
       try
        the
         whole
          cause,
          and
         condemn
       you to
    death.''
'You are not attending!' said the Mouse to Alice, severely. 'What are you thinking of?'
'I beg your pardon,' said Alice very humbly, 'you had got to the fifth bend, I think?'
'You insult me by talking such nonsense!' said the Mouse, getting up and walking away.
'Please come back and finish your story!' Alice 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.
'I wish I had Dinah, our cat, here!' said Alice. This caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the birds hurried off at once, 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 Alice was soon left alone.
'I wish I hadn't mentioned Dinah! Nobody seems to like her down here and I'm sure she's the best cat in the world!' Poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance and she looked up eagerly.
IV--THE RABBIT SENDS IN A LITTLE BILL
It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; Alice heard it muttering to itself, 'The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh, my dear paws! Oh, my fur and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where _can_ I have dropped them, I wonder?' Alice guessed in a moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid-gloves and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen--everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely.
Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, and called to her, in an angry tone, 'Why, Mary Ann, what _are_ you doing out here? Run home this moment and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!' 'He took me for his housemaid!' said Alice, as she ran off. 'How surprised he'll be when he finds out who I am!' As she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name 'W. RABBIT' engraved upon it. She went in without knocking and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real Mary Ann and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.
By this time, Alice had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid-gloves; she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves and was just going to leave the room, when her eyes fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. She uncorked it and put it to her lips, saying to herself, 'I do hope it'll make me grow large again, for, really, I'm quite tired


Summarize in plain English: Great Expectations [1867 Edition] by Charles Dickens
Chapter I.
My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my
infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit
than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.
I give Pirrip as my father’s family name, on the authority of his
tombstone and my sister,—Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith.
As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of
either of them (for their days were long before the days of
photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like were
unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on
my father’s, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man,
with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription,
“_Also Georgiana Wife of the Above_,” I drew a childish conclusion that
my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each
about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside
their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of
mine,—who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that
universal struggle,—I am indebted for a belief I religiously
entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands
in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state
of existence.
Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river
wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad
impression of the identity of things seems to me to have been gained on
a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out
for certain that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the
churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also
Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander,
Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the
aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness
beyond the churchyard, intersected with dikes and mounds and gates,
with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low
leaden line beyond was the river; and that the distant savage lair from
which the wind was rushing was the sea; and that the small bundle of
shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip.
“Hold your noise!” cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from
among the graves at the side of the church porch. “Keep still, you
little devil, or I’ll cut your throat!”
A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man
with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his
head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and
lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by
briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared, and growled; and whose
teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.
“Oh! Don’t cut my throat, sir,” I pleaded in terror. “Pray don’t do it,
sir.”
“Tell us your name!” said the man. “Quick!”
“Pip, sir.”
“Once more,” said the man, staring at me. “Give it mouth!”
“Pip. Pip, sir.”
“Show us where you live,” said the man. “Pint out the place!”
I pointed to where our village lay, on the flat in-shore among the
alder-trees and pollards, a mile or more from the church.
The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and
emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread.
When the church came to itself,—for he was so sudden and strong that he
made it go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my
feet,—when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high
tombstone, trembling while he ate the bread ravenously.
[Illustration]
“You young dog,” said the man, licking his lips, “what fat cheeks you
ha’ got.”
I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my
years, and not strong.
“Darn me if I couldn’t eat ’em,” said the man, with a threatening shake
of his head, “and if I han’t half a mind to’t!”
I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn’t, and held tighter to the
tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it;
partly, to keep myself from crying.
“Now lookee here!” said the man. “Where’s your mother?”
“There, sir!” said I.
He started, made a short run, and stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“There, sir!” I timidly explained. “Also Georgiana. That’s my mother.”
“Oh!” said he, coming back. “And is that your father alonger your
mother?”
“Yes, sir,” said I; “him too; late of this parish.”
“Ha!” he muttered then, considering. “Who d’ye live with,—supposin’
you’re kindly let to live, which I han’t made up my mind about?”
“My sister, sir,—Mrs. Joe Gargery,—wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith,
sir.”
“Blacksmith, eh?” said he. And looked down at his leg.
After darkly looking at his leg and me several times, he came closer to
my tombstone, took me by both arms, and tilted me back as far as he
could hold me; so that his eyes looked most powerfully down into mine,
and mine looked most helplessly up into his.
“Now lookee here,” he said, “the question being whether you’re to be
let to live. You know what a file is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you know what wittles is?”
“Yes, sir.”
After each question he tilted me over a little more, so as to give me a
greater sense of helplessness and danger.
“You get me a file.” He tilted me again. “And you get me wittles.” He
tilted me again. “You bring ’em both to me.” He tilted me again. “Or
I’ll have your heart and liver out.” He tilted me again.
I was dreadfully frightened, and so giddy that I clung to him with both
hands, and said, “If you would kindly please to let me keep upright,
sir, perhaps I shouldn’t be sick, and perhaps I could attend more.”
He gave me a most tremendous dip and roll, so that the church jumped
over its own weathercock. Then, he held me by the arms, in an upright
position on the top of the stone, and went on in these fearful terms:—
“You bring me, to-morrow morning early, that file and them wittles. You
bring the lot to me, at that old Battery over yonder. You do it, and
you never dare to say a word or dare to make a sign concerning your
having seen such a person as me, or any person sumever, and you shall
be let to live. You fail, or you go from my words in any partickler, no
matter how small it is, and your heart and your liver shall be tore
out, roasted, and ate. Now, I ain’t alone, as you may think I am.
There’s a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I
am a Angel. That young man hears the words I speak. That young man has
a secret way pecooliar to himself, of getting at a boy, and at his
heart, and at his liver. It is in wain for a boy to attempt to hide
himself from that young man. A boy may lock his door, may be warm in
bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the clothes over his head, may think
himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will softly creep and
creep his way to him and tear him open. I am a keeping that young man
from harming of you at the present moment, with great difficulty. I
find it wery hard to hold that young man off of your inside. Now, what
do you say?”
I said that I would get him the file, and I would get him what broken
bits of food I could, and I would come to him at the Battery, early in
the morning.
“Say Lord strike you dead if you don’t!” said the man.
I said so, and he took me down.
“Now,” he pursued, “you remember what you’ve undertook, and you
remember that young man, and you get home!”
“Goo-good night, sir,” I faltered.
“Much of that!” said he, glancing about him over the cold wet flat. “I
wish I was a frog. Or a eel!”
At the same time, he hugged his shuddering body in both his
arms,—clasping himself, as if to hold himself together,—and limped
towards the low church wall. As I saw him go, picking his way among the
nettles, and among the brambles that bound the green mounds, he looked
in my young eyes as if he were eluding the hands of the dead people,
stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist upon his
ankle and pull him in.
When he came to the low church wall, he got over it, like a man whose
legs were numbed and stiff, and then turned round to look for me. When
I saw him turning, I set my face towards home, and made the best use of
my legs. But presently I looked over my shoulder, and saw him going on
again towards the river, still hugging himself in both arms, and
picking his way with his sore feet among the great stones dropped into
the marshes here and there, for stepping-places when the rains were
heavy or the tide was in.
The marshes were just a long black horizontal line then, as I stopped
to look after him; and the river was just another horizontal line, not
nearly so broad nor yet so black; and the sky was just a row of long
angry red lines and dense black lines intermixed. On the edge of the
river I could faintly make out the only two black things in all the
prospect that seemed to be standing upright; one of these was the
beacon by which the sailors steered,—like an unhooped cask upon a
pole,—an ugly thing when you were near it; the other, a gibbet, with
some chains hanging to it which had once held a pirate. The man was
limping on towards this latter, as if he were the pirate come to life,
and come down, and going back to hook himself up again. It gave me a
terrible turn when I thought so; and as I saw the cattle lifting their
heads to gaze after him, I wondered whether they thought so too. I
looked all round for the horrible young man, and could see no signs of
him. But now I was frightened again, and ran home without stopping.
Chapter II.
My sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older than I,
and had established a great reputation with herself and the neighbours
because she had brought me up “by hand.” Having at that time to find
out for myself what the expression meant, and knowing her to have a
hard and heavy hand, and to be much in the habit of laying it upon her
husband as well as upon me, I supposed that Joe Gargery and I were both
brought up by hand.
She was not a good-looking woman, my sister; and I had a general
impression that she must have made Joe Gargery marry her by hand. Joe
was a fair man, with curls of flaxen hair on each side of his smooth
face, and with eyes of such a very undecided blue that they seemed to
have somehow got mixed with their own whites. He was a mild,
good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going, foolish, dear fellow,—a sort
of Hercules in strength, and also in weakness.
My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a prevailing
redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible
she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of soap. She was tall
and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her
figure behind with two loops, and having a square impregnable bib in
front, that was stuck full of pins and needles. She made it a powerful
merit in herself, and a strong reproach against Joe, that she wore this
apron so much. Though I really see no reason why she should have worn
it at all; or why, if she did wear it at all, she should not have taken
it off, every day of her life.
Joe’s forge adjoined our house, which was a wooden house, as many of
the dwellings in our country were,—most of them, at that time. When I
ran home from the churchyard, the forge was shut up, and Joe was
sitting alone in the kitchen. Joe and I being fellow-sufferers, and
having confidences as such, Joe imparted a confidence to me, the moment
I raised the latch of the door and peeped in at him opposite to it,
sitting in the chimney corner.
“Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times, looking for you, Pip. And she’s
out now, making it a baker’s dozen.”
“Is she?”
“Yes, Pip,” said Joe; “and what’s worse, she’s got Tickler with her.”
At this dismal intelligence, I twisted the only button on my waistcoat
round and round, and looked in great depression at the fire. Tickler
was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn smooth by collision with my tickled
frame.
“She sot down,” said Joe, “and she got up, and she made a grab at
Tickler, and she Ram-paged out. That’s what she did,” said Joe, slowly
clearing the fire between the lower bars with the poker, and looking at
it; “she Ram-paged out, Pip.”
“Has she been gone long, Joe?” I always treated him as a larger species
of child, and as no more than my equal.
“Well,” said Joe, glancing up at the Dutch clock, “she’s been on the
Ram-page, this last spell, about five minutes, Pip. She’s a-coming! Get
behind the door, old chap, and have the jack-towel betwixt you.”
I took the advice. My sister, Mrs. Joe, throwing the door wide open,
and finding an obstruction behind it, immediately divined the cause,
and applied Tickler to its further investigation. She concluded by
throwing me—I often served as a connubial missile—at Joe, who, glad to
get hold of me on any terms, passed me on into the chimney and quietly
fenced me up there with his great leg.
“Where have you been, you young monkey?” said Mrs. Joe, stamping her
foot. “Tell me directly what you’ve been doing to wear me away with
fret and fright and worrit, or I’d have you out of that corner if you
was fifty Pips, and he was five hundred Gargerys.”
“I have only been to the churchyard,” said I, from my stool, crying and
rubbing myself.
“Churchyard!” repeated my sister. “If it warn’t for me you’d have been
to the churchyard long ago, and stayed there. Who brought you up by
hand?”
“You did,” said I.
“And why did I do it, I should like to know?” exclaimed my sister.
I whimpered, “I don’t know.”
“_I_ don’t!” said my sister. “I’d never do it again! I know that. I may
truly say I’ve never had this apron of mine off since born you were.
It’s bad enough to be a blacksmith’s wife (and him a Gargery) without
being your mother.”
My thoughts strayed from that question as I looked disconsolately at
the fire. For the fugitive out on the marshes with the ironed leg, the
mysterious young man, the file, the food, and the dreadful pledge I was
under to commit a larceny on those sheltering premises, rose before me
in the avenging coals.
“Hah!” said Mrs. Joe, restoring Tickler to his station. “Churchyard,
indeed! You may well say churchyard, you two.” One of us, by the by,
had not said it at all. “You’ll drive _me_ to the churchyard betwixt
you, one of these days, and O, a pr-r-recious pair you’d be without
me!”
As she applied herself to set the tea-things, Joe peeped down at me
over his leg, as if he were mentally casting me and himself up, and
calculating what kind of pair we practically should make, under the
grievous circumstances foreshadowed. After that, he sat feeling his
right-side flaxen curls and whisker, and following Mrs. Joe about with
his blue eyes, as his manner always was at squally times.
My sister had a trenchant way of cutting our bread and butter for us,
that never varied. First, with her left hand she jammed the loaf hard
and fast against her bib,—where it sometimes got a pin into it, and
sometimes a needle, which we afterwards got into our mouths. Then she
took some butter (not too much) on a knife and spread it on the loaf,
in an apothecary kind of way, as if she were making a plaster,—using
both sides of the knife with a slapping dexterity, and trimming and
moulding the butter off round the crust. Then, she gave the knife a
final smart wipe on the edge of the plaster, and then sawed a very
thick round off the loaf: which she finally, before separating from the
loaf, hewed into two halves, of which Joe got one, and I the other.
On the present occasion, though I was hungry, I dared not eat my slice.
I felt that I must have something in reserve for my dreadful
acquaintance, and his ally the still more dreadful young man. I knew
Mrs. Joe’s housekeeping to be of the strictest kind, and that my
larcenous researches might find nothing available in the safe.
Therefore I resolved to put my hunk of bread and butter down the leg of
my trousers.
The effort of resolution necessary to the achievement of this purpose I
found to be quite awful. It was as if I had to make up my mind to leap
from the top of a high house, or plunge into a great depth of water.
And it was made the more difficult by the unconscious Joe. In our
already-mentioned freemasonry as fellow-sufferers, and in his
good-natured companionship with me, it was our evening habit to compare
the way we bit through our slices, by silently holding them up to each
other’s admiration now and then,—which stimulated us to new exertions.
To-night, Joe several times invited me, by the display of his fast
diminishing slice, to enter upon our usual friendly competition; but he
found me, each time, with my yellow mug of tea on one knee, and my
untouched bread and butter on the other. At last, I desperately
considered that the thing I contemplated must be done, and that it had
best be done in the least improbable manner consistent with the
circumstances. I took advantage of a moment when Joe had just looked at
me, and got my bread and butter down my leg.
Joe was evidently made uncomfortable by what he supposed to be my loss
of appetite, and took a thoughtful bite out of his slice, which he
didn’t seem to enjoy. He turned it about in his mouth much longer than
usual, pondering over it a good deal, and after all gulped it down like
a pill. He was about to take another bite, and had just got his head on
one side for a good purchase on it, when his eye fell on me, and he saw
that my bread and butter was gone.
The wonder and consternation with which Joe stopped on the threshold of
his bite and stared at me, were too evident to escape my sister’s
observation.
“What’s the matter _now_?” said she, smartly, as she put down her cup.
“I say, you know!” muttered Joe, shaking his head at me in very serious
remonstrance. “Pip, old chap! You’ll do yourself a mischief. It’ll
stick somewhere. You can’t have chawed it, Pip.”
“What’s the matter now?” repeated my sister, more sharply than before.
“If you can cough any trifle on it up, Pip, I’d recommend you to do
it,” said Joe, all aghast. “Manners is manners, but still your elth’s
your elth.”
By this time, my sister was quite desperate, so she pounced on Joe,
and, taking him by the two whiskers, knocked his head for a little
while against the wall behind him, while I sat in the corner, looking
guiltily on.
“Now, perhaps you’ll mention what’s the matter,” said my sister, out of
breath, “you staring great stuck pig.”
Joe looked at her in a helpless way, then took a helpless bite, and
looked at me again.
“You know, Pip,” said Joe, solemnly, with his last bite in his cheek,
and speaking in a confidential voice, as if we two were quite alone,
“you and me is always friends, and I’d be the last to tell upon you,
any time. But such a—” he moved his chair and looked about the floor
between us, and then again at me—“such a most oncommon Bolt as that!”
“Been bolting his food, has he?” cried my sister.
“You know, old chap,” said Joe, looking at me, and not at Mrs. Joe,
with his bite still in his cheek, “I Bolted, myself, when I was your
age—frequent—and as a boy I’ve been among a many Bolters; but I never
see your Bolting equal yet, Pip, and it’s a mercy you ain’t Bolted
dead.”
My sister made a dive at me, and fished me up by the hair, saying
nothing more than the awful words, “You come along and be dosed.”
Some medical beast had revived Tar-water in those days as a fine
medicine, and Mrs. Joe always kept a supply of it in the cupboard;
having a belief in its virtues correspondent to its nastiness. At the
best of times, so much of this elixir was administered to me as a
choice restorative, that I was conscious of going about, smelling like
a new fence. On this particular evening the urgency of my case demanded
a pint of this mixture, which was poured down my throat, for my greater
comfort, while Mrs. Joe held my head under her arm, as a boot would be
held in a bootjack. Joe got off with half a pint; but was made to
swallow that (much to his disturbance, as he sat slowly munching and
meditating before the fire), “because he had had a turn.” Judging from
myself, I should say he certainly had a turn afterwards, if he had had
none before.
Conscience is a dreadful thing when it accuses man or boy; but when, in
the case of a boy, that secret burden co-operates with another secret
burden down the leg of his trousers, it is (as I can testify) a great
punishment. The guilty knowledge that I was going to rob Mrs. Joe—I
never thought I was going to rob Joe, for I never thought of any of the
housekeeping property as his—united to the necessity of always keeping
one hand on my bread and butter as I sat, or when I was ordered about
the kitchen on any small errand, almost drove me out of my mind. Then,
as the marsh winds made the fire glow and flare, I thought I heard the
voice outside, of the man with the iron on his leg who had sworn me to
secrecy, declaring that he couldn’t and wouldn’t starve until
to-morrow, but must be fed now. At other times, I thought, What if the
young man who was with so much difficulty restrained from imbruing his
hands in me should yield to a constitutional impatience, or should
mistake the time, and should think himself accredited to my heart and
liver to-night, instead of to-morrow! If ever anybody’s hair stood on
end with terror, mine must have done so then. But, perhaps, nobody’s
ever did?
It was Christmas Eve, and I had to stir the pudding for next day, with
a copper-stick, from seven to eight by the Dutch clock. I tried it with
the load upon my leg (and that made me think afresh of the man with the
load on _his_ leg), and found the tendency of exercise to bring the
bread and butter out at my ankle, quite unmanageable. Happily I slipped
away, and deposited that part of my conscience in my garret bedroom.
“Hark!” said I, when I had done my stirring, and was taking a final
warm in the chimney corner before being sent up to bed; “was that great
guns, Joe?”
“Ah!” said Joe. “There’s another conwict off.”
“What does that mean, Joe?” said I.
Mrs. Joe, who always took explanations upon herself, said, snappishly,
“Escaped. Escaped.” Administering the definition like Tar-water.
While Mrs. Joe sat with her head bending over her needlework, I put my
mouth into the forms of saying to Joe, “What’s a convict?” Joe put
_his_ mouth into the forms of returning such a highly elaborate answer,
that I could make out nothing of it but the single word “Pip.”
“There was a conwict off last night,” said Joe, aloud, “after
sunset-gun. And they fired warning of him. And now it appears they’re
firing warning of another.”
“_Who’s_ firing?” said I.
“Drat that boy,” interposed my sister, frowning at me over her work,
“what a questioner he is. Ask no questions, and you’ll be told no
lies.”
It was not very polite to herself, I thought, to imply that I should be
told lies by her even if I did ask questions. But she never was polite
unless there was company.
At this point Joe greatly augmented my curiosity by taking the utmost
pains to open his mouth very wide, and to put it into the form of a
word that looked to me like “sulks.” Therefore, I naturally pointed to
Mrs. Joe, and put my mouth into the form of saying, “her?” But Joe
wouldn’t hear of that, at all, and again opened his mouth very wide,
and shook the form of a most emphatic word out of it. But I could make
nothing of the word.
“