so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark:
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound."

"That's different from what _I_ used to say when I was a child," said
the Gryphon.

"Well, _I_ never heard it before," said the Mock Turtle: "but it sounds
uncommon nonsense."

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

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

"She ca'n't explain it," hastily said the Gryphon. "Go on with the next
verse."

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

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

"Go on with the next verse," the Gryphon repeated: "it begins '_I passed
by his garden_.'"

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

"I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet by----"

"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!"

[Illustration]

"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 another 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,
"H'm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her '_Turtle Soup_,' will you, old
fellow?"

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

"Beautiful Soup,