"'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." "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 again 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 she 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 oyster were sharing the pie." "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!" THE SPIDER AND THE FLY By MARY HOWITT "Will you walk into my parlor?" Said a spider to a fly: 'Tis the prettiest little parlor That ever you did spy. The way into my parlor Is up a winding stair, And I have many pretty things To show when you are there." "Oh, no, no!" said the little fly, "To ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair Can ne'er come down again."