Massachusetts College of Art and Design - Palette and Pen Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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holding onto the hand, long after (as she told her sister later) the hand-shaking should have been over. “Oh bother!” said Mycerinus sadly. “There it goes again.” And as Alice returned his hand (it was very heavy), the Appeal whispered confidentially, “It’s all right. He’s always losing something. It’s because he’s restored, you know.” Alice tried to puzzle this out. but just then a fierce little woman ran up and poked Alice with one of her snakes. No one bothered to introduce her, but Alice recognized ber from the picture in her history book as the Snake Goddess. “Come on,” she shrieked, “let’s go tease the casts!” And they all rushed away to the cast-room. She led the way to Hermes, who was racing up and dowm the room, stopping now and then to rise on his toes or extend one leg behind him. “1 must say they’re very vain in here,” thought Alice, “although I suppose it comes of being looked at so much.” The Snake Goddess was addressing Hermes, “How long did you say it took you to run around the building last week?” “Twenty-six and a half minutes, all floors,” returned Hermes promptly. “Why I don’t believe it. No one could possibly do it in that time,” said the Snake Goddess. “I’ll prove it,” cried Hermes delightedly, and, flirting his wings, off he ran. All the casts shouted with laughter, and the Appeal whispered to Alice, “She’s extremely witty, don’t you think? She makes him run around the building like that every week. I do hope, though,” he went on earnestly, “that she has sense enough to leave Venus alone. You know Venus is really a nice enough sort of girl, but a few weeks ago she overheard the curator talking about her, and she’s been quite insufferable ever since.” But tlie Snake Goddess was already pushing Alice forward. “Ah, how d’you do,” drawled Venus. “Would you care t’ know my measurements? Height — ” But she was drowned out by all the casts, who had risen up and were screaming in a chorus, “No, No, NO!” Alice ran out, holding her hands tightly over her ears. When she stopped running, she was in a very quiet room full of black and red vases. They were very pretty vases, Alice thought, and she spent quite some time admiring them. But she soon began to get panicky when at every turning she came upon more vases, miles and miles of them. “Won’t I ever meet anyone to direct me out of these vases?” she thought. She admitted later that she had been almost ready to cry, when she had heard a dear familiar voice in the corridor. “Oh, bother,” it said clearly, “that makes the third time those confounded toes have dropped off today.”. . . Yes, they were all there — Mycerinus, the Snake Goddess, the Appeal, and even Hermes. They were on their way to

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ALICE’S ADVEXTLRES IX THE ART MUSEUM FOR LEWIS CARROLL by MARGARET E. SAXGSTER You gave the world the gift of gentle laughter. Of magic touched with a prismatic gleam; ou taught us that life holds frail romance after First youth is past and hearts scarce dare to dream. our people saunter by, a long procession .As mad as April and as sweet as May .... They are so real (and this is a confession! ) That I can see them, though mv hair is gray! There’s Alice and the Rabbit, walking primly. The sobbing turtle, and the child that sneezed; The croquet-playing Queens who shouted grimly, The drowsy Dormouse and the Hare that teased . . . A our dear illusions never, quite, can pass. Though you have wandered through the Looking Glass! Alice was rather surprised, as she approached the Museum, to see a horse cantering on the front lawn. But the Appeal to the Great Spirit (for he turned out to be the rider) dismounted and greeted her quite naturally. “Oh dear! Look,” said Alice, “the sign says ‘Closed on Alondays’.” “Oh, that!” laughed the Appeal. “People like to say they donh believe in signs, but they do, you know. Oh dear, yes. I suppose I’ve seen hundreds of people come here on a Monday and turn away quite disgusted wdien they see the sign. They don’t seem to think of trydng the door. And the funny thing about it is that it’s never locked, you know.” To prove it he pushed open the door and they walked in. “But I should think someone — ” objected Alice. “I’m coming to that,” put in the Appeal. (He did not like to be interrupted.) “I can remember just one Monday when a very absent-minded man walked right up and tried the door before he realized what day it was. That was a close call, I can tell you.” “Well? And what happened?” Alice questioned eagerly. “Oh, Mycerinus held the door, of course,” said the Appeal, a little crossly. “Ah, here he is now. I’ll introduce you.” And sure enough there was Mycerinus lumbering down the corridor towards them. Alice knew it was rude, but she could not help staring at him. He was so immense. She was dreadfully embarrassed when she shook hands with him, because the whole hand and part of his arm broke right off! And there she w ' as, still

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the picture gallery, and half-way there met an ancient Chinaman walking in the opposite direction. “It’s Ah Mee, the sage,” whispered the Appeal. “He’s very learned.” Alice had thought that he looked like a bundle of clothes with a mask on top, but now she tried not to think so. “His proverbs are really wonderful,” the Appeal was saying, when Ah Mee remarked majestically, “Plav music in front of a cow.” Poor Alice, remembering that he was very learned, tried hard to make any sense out of this. His next remark was even more puzzling. Staring hard at Alice, he said pointedly, “Of greater worth is a withered carrot,” then shuffled away. Alice cried out. after he had gone, “Why, he’s nothing but an empty mask, himself!” The Appeal and the others were very much shocked. “Sh. Shh. Don’t let him hear you. It would be dreadful if he should ever find out.” All Alice could ever remember about the picture gallery was that she spoke to George Washington there. As she told her sister later, she was a little timid about speaking to him (he was so very dignified), but as she felt sure that she would never have such an opportunity again, she went right up and said, “How do you do. General Washington.” He nodded and smiled at her a little, and Alice decided that he was really much nicer than in the histories. It seemed to Alice that everything grew confuseder and confuseder from then on. The Appeal talked all the time, pointing out the exhibits; the Snake Goddess kept hiding behind curtains and tickling people from behind with her snakes; Hermes was a dreadful nuisance, jumping over the railings and sliding down the bannisters; and poor Myeerinus was quite a responsibility, as usual. How they got to the Tudor Room, Alice never knew, but they all stopped outside the door. “And this,” said the Appeal, “is the Tudor Room. Note the heavy oak paneling which — ” Myeerinus was bending down look- ing into the room. “And two windows, besides. And two — ” be was noting happily, when Alice gave a little scream of laughter. “Oh, but it doesn’t mean two doors,” she explained. “It’s kings, you see.” “Two kings?” questioned the Snake Goddess quite sharply. “Well, no,” said Alice, “let’s see, there’s Henry VII, and Henry VHI, and Edward VI and . . .” She had to stop, they were all staring at her so queerly — “just as though I were some objection- able insect,” she thought. “I think you’d much better have left it at doors,” the Snake Goddess was saying coldly. “Well, perhaps you’re right, but it isn’t doors, you know,” Alice was saying as she stood outside the Museum. “Oh, mercy,” she said, stopping short, “the sign says ‘Closed on Mondays’. I’ll have to come another day if I want to get in.” SUSAN T. RICHEKT, ’39