(A Postscript to a Well-known Work.)
Alice was delighted with all she saw. Statesmen, generals, celebrities of every kind. Then there were marvellous animals—some ferocious, others satirical, every one of them as true to nature as could be.
"Where am I?" asked Alice.
"In the gallery of the Fine Arts Society, 148, New Bond Street."
"And, please, who has done all these wonderful things?"
"The great J. T.," was the reply.
And then she fell to admiring them. She had some difficulty in getting to the drawings, for every picture was surrounded by a little crowd of worshippers. And she was not in the least surprised, because the devotion had been justly earned. Before her she found a specimen of the labours of nearly half a century. Everything good and beautiful.
"Dear me!" she murmured, as she approached No. 160 in the Catalogue. "Why here I am myself! I am so glad I am like that. What should I have been had I not had so kind an artist to sketch me?"
And the possibility opened out such a vista of disasters that Alice was almost moved to tears. But she soon regained her gaiety when she had glanced at "Winding 'em up" (No. 161), "A Bicycle built for Two" (No. 148), and "The Mask of Momus" (No. 99).
"But shall I meet the Knights?" she asked, after a while. "I should, because I certainly am living in Wonderland."