The Garden of Live Flowers

           ‘Ishouldseethegardenfarbetter,’saidAlicetoherself,‘ifIcouldgettothetopofthathill:andhere’sapaththatleadsstraighttoit—atleast,no,itdoesn’tdothat—’(aftergoingafewyardsalongthepath,andturningseveralsharpcorners),‘butIsupposeitwillatlast.Buthowcuriouslyittwists!It’smorelikeacorkscrewthanapath!Well,thisturngoestothehill,Isuppose—no,itdoesn’t!Thisgoesstraightbacktothehouse!Wellthen,I’lltryittheotherway.’

           Andsoshedid:wanderingupanddown,andtryingturnafterturn,butalwayscomingbacktothehouse,dowhatshewould.Indeed,once,whensheturnedacornerrathermorequicklythanusual,sheranagainstitbeforeshecouldstopherself.

           ‘It’snousetalkingaboutit,’Alicesaid,lookingupatthehouseandpretendingitwasarguingwithher.‘I’mnotgoinginagainyet.IknowIshouldhavetogetthroughtheLooking-glassagain—backintotheoldroom—andthere’dbeanendofallmyadventures!’

           So,resolutelyturningherbackuponthehouse,shesetoutoncemoredownthepath,determinedtokeepstraightontillshegottothehill.Forafewminutesallwentonwell,andshewasjustsaying,‘Ireallyshalldoitthistime—’whenthepathgaveasuddentwistandshookitself(asshedescribeditafterwards),andthenextmomentshefoundherselfactuallywalkinginatthedoor.

           ‘Oh,it’stoobad!’shecried.