- I'll get one, - the Knight said thoughtfully to himself. - One or
two - several.
There was a short silence after this, and then the Knight went on
again. - I'm a great hand at inventing things. Now, I daresay you noticed,
that last time you picked me up, that I was looking rather thoughtful?
- You WERE a little grave, - said Alice.
- Well, just then I was inventing a new way of getting over a gate -
would you like to hear it?
- Very much indeed, - Alice said politely.
- I'll tell you how I came to think of it, - said the Knight. - You
see, I said to myself, "The only difficulty is with the feet: the HEAD is
high enough already." Now, first I put my head on the top of the gate -
then I stand on my head - then the feet are high enough, you see - then
I'm over, you see.
- Yes, I suppose you'd be over when that was done, - Alice said
thoughtfully: - but don't you think it would be rather hard?
- I haven't tried it yet, - the Knight said, gravely: - so I can't
tell for certain - but I'm afraid it WOULD be a little hard.
He looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the subject
hastily. - What a curious helmet you've got! - she said cheerfully. - Is
that your invention too?
The Knight looked down proudly at his helmet, which hung from the
saddle. - Yes, - he said, - but I've invented a better one than that like
a sugar loaf. When I used to wear it, if I fell of the horse, it always
touched the ground directly. So I had a VERY little way to fall, you see -
But there WAS the danger of falling INTO it, to be sure. THat happened to
me once - and the worst of it was, before I could get out again, the other
White Knight came and put it on. He thought it was his own helmet.
The knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did not dare to
laugh. - I'm afraid you must have hurt him, - she said in a trembling
voice, - being on the top of his head.
- I had to kick him, of course, - the Knight said, very seriously. -
And then he took the helmet off again - but it took hours and hours to get
me out. I was as fast as - as lightning, you know.
- But that's a different kind of fastness, - Alice objected. The
Knight shook his head. - It was all kinds of fastness with me, I
can assure you! - he said. He raised his hands in some excitement as he
said this, and instantly rolled out of the saddle, and fell headlong into
a deep ditch.
Alice ran to the side of the ditch to look for him. She was rather
startled by the fall, as for some time he had kept on very well, and she
was afraid that he really WAS hurt this time. However, though she could
see nothing but the soles of his feet, she was much relieved to hear that
he was talking on in his usual tone. - All kinds of fastness, - he
repeated: - but it was careless of him to put another man's helmet on -
with the man in it, too.
- How CAN you go on talking so quietly, head downwards? - Alice
asked, as she dragged him out by the feet, and laid him in a heap on the
bank.
The Knight looked surprised at the question. - What does it matter
where my body happens to be? - he said. - My mind goes on working all the
same. In fact, the more head downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new
things.
- Now the cleverest thing of the sort that I ever did, - he went on
after a pause, - was inventing a new pudding during the meatcourse.
- In time to have it cooked for the next course? - said Alice. -
Well, not the NEXT course, - the Knight said in a slow thoughtful tone: -
no, certainly not the next COURSE.
- Then it would have to be the next day. I suppose you wouldn't have
two pudding-courses in one dinner?
- Well, not the NEXT day, - the Knight repeated as before: - not the
next DAY. In fact, - he went on, holding his head down, and his voice
getting lower and lower, - I don't believe that pudding ever WAS cooked!
In fact, I don't believe that pudding ever WILL be cooked! And yet it was
a very clever pudding to invent.
- What did you mean it to be made of? - Alice asked, hoping to cheer
him up, for the poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.
It began with blotting paper, - the Knight answered with a groan. -
That wouldn't be very nice, I'm afraid - Not very nice ALONE, - he
interrupted, quite eagerly: - but you've
no idea what a difference it makes mixing it with other things
such as gunpowder and sealing-wax. And here I must leave you. - They
had just come to the end of the wood.
Alice could only look puzzled: she was thinking of the pudding. - You
are sad, - the Knight said in an anxious tone: - let me sing you
a song to comfort you.
- Is it very long? - Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of
poetry that day.
- It's long, - said the Knight, - but very, VERY beautiful. Everybody
that hears me sing it - either it brings the TEARS into their eyes, or
else
- Or else what? - said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.
- Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called
"HADDOCKS - EYES."
- Oh, that's the name of the song, is it? - Alice said, trying to
feel interested.
- No, you don't understand, - the Knight said, looking a little
vexed. - That's what the name is CALLED. The name really IS "THE AGED AGED
MAN."
- Then I ought to have said "That's what the SONG is called"? - Alice
corrected herself.
- No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The SONG is called
"WAYS AND MEANS": but that's only what it's CALLED, you know!
- Well, what IS the song, then? - said Alice, who was by this time
completely bewildered.
- I was coming to that, - the Knight said. - The song really IS
"A-SITTING ON A GATE": and the tune's my own invention.
So saying, he stopped his horse and let the reins fall on its neck:
then, slowly beating time with one hand, and with a faint smile lighting
up his gentle foolish face, as if he enjoyed the music of his song, he
began.
Of all the strange things that Alice saw in her journey Through The
Looking-Glass, this was the one that she always remembered most clearly.
Years afterwards she could bring the whole scene back again, as if it had
been only yesterday - the mild blue eyes and kindly smile of the Knight -
the setting sun gleaming through his hair, and shining on his armour in a
blaze of light that quite dazzled her the horse quietly moving about, with
the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the grass at her feet - and
the black shadows of the forest behind - all this she took in like a
picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes, she leant against a green,
watching the strange pair, and listening, in a half dream, to the
melancholy music of the song.
- But the tune ISN'T his own invention, - she said to herself: - it's
"I GIVE THEE ALL, I CAN NO MORE." - She stood and listened very
attentively, but no tears came into her eyes.

- I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man? - I said.
"and how is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.

He said "I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men, - he said,
"Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread
A trifle, if you please."

But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come, tell me how you live!"
And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:
He said "I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rolands - Macassar Oil
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil."

But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
"Come, tell me how you live," I cried,
"And what it is you do!"

He said "I hunt for haddocks - eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
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