CHAPTER V
Tweedle and Twaddle
THEY were standing under a tree, each with his hand over the other's mouth.
At first Alice had some difficulty in telling them apart, they were dressed so exactly alike, but she soon noticed that one of them had a very sad expression.
"That must be Twaddle," she thought. "I have heard somewhere that he has a gloomy disposition. I wonder if they can tell me the way out of the wood."
"Please—" she began aloud.
"Don't say that," cried both the little men together, uncovering each other's mouth; "it isn't literary."
"I'm not trying to be literary," Alice said.
"But you should try," said Twaddle, "especially when you are in our company. You see, we are very literary."
"Yes," said Tweedle pointing to Twaddle; "he is so literary that he 's absolutely unintelligible."
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Twaddle gave a deep sigh, and two large tears rolled down his cheeks.
"What is the matter?" said Alice. "You must have hurt his feelings."
"Oh no," said Tweedle. "He is just taking himself seriously, that's all. He is pretty good at it, but I can do almost as well. Watch me."
Thereupon Tweedle also heaved a deep sigh and two large tears trickled down his cheeks. This made Alice feel very uncomfortable. She thought she ought to say something to cheer them up, but was not quite certain how to begin.
"Can you tell me," she asked at last, "the way out of the wood?"
Twaddle dried his eyes with a large yellow pocket-handkerchief.
"I don't know how to go out," he said, "but I can tell you how to come out. I come out every month. That's why I am some times called the Monthly."
"And I come out every other week," said Tweedle.
"Are you coming out this week?" asked Alice.
"No. I come out last week and next week, but never this week," said Tweedle.
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"But you must come out this week some times," Alice said.
"No, I don't," replied Tweedle. "I come out every other week. This week isn't any other week."
"How dreadfully confusing," said Alice.
"I knew he would confuse you," said Twaddle. "He's almost as unintelligible as I am. That's one reason why he is sometimes called an Advocate."
"Are advocates confusing?" asked Alice.
"You wouldn't ask that," said Twaddle, shaking his head sadly, "if you had ever been to law."
"Have you ever been to law?" Alice asked.
"Not exactly," said Twaddle, "but if we combine as they want us to, there is sure to be trouble."
"A combination in restraint of trade, you see," Tweedle explained.
"But it would be a great advantage to you," said Alice, "to join hands instead of covering each other's mouth."
"Exactly," said Twaddle, "the law and the profits."
Alice could not see that this last remark made any sense at all, but she said nothing.
"Would you like to hear some poetry?" Tweedle said after a pause.
"Not if it's very long," said Alice.
Tweedle paid no attention to her, but cleared his throat and began in a very solemn voice:
"How very interesting!" said Alice after it was finished.
"Contrariwise," Twaddle remarked. "It isn't poetry. I could understand every single word of it."