| Author: | Howard Pyle | ISBN: | 9786059496926 |
| Publisher: | eKitap Projesi | Publication: | November 21, 2017 |
| Imprint: | eKitap Projesi | Language: | English |
| Author: | Howard Pyle |
| ISBN: | 9786059496926 |
| Publisher: | eKitap Projesi |
| Publication: | November 21, 2017 |
| Imprint: | eKitap Projesi |
| Language: | English |
Here we are! And now I will wind the clock. Gurr! gurr! gurr! Tick-tock! tick-tock!
I PUT on my dream-cap one day and stepped into Wonderland.
Along the road I jogged and never dusted my shoes, and all the time the pleasant sun shone and never burned my back, and the little white clouds floated across the blue sky and never let fall a drop of rain to wet my jacket. And by and by I came to a steep hill.
I climbed the hill, though I had more than one tumble in doing it, and there, on the tip-top, I found a house as old as the world itself. That was where Father Time lived; and who should sit in the sun at the door, spinning away for dear life, but Time's Grandmother herself; and if you would like to know how old she is you will have to climb to the top of the church steeple and ask the wind as he sits upon the weather-cock, humming the tune of Over-yonder song to himself.
"Good-morning," says Time's Grandmother to me.
"Good-morning," says I to her.
"And what do you seek here?" says she to me.
"I come to look for odds and ends," says I to her.
"Very well," says she; "just climb the stairs to the garret, and there you will find more than ten men can think about."
Here we are! And now I will wind the clock. Gurr! gurr! gurr! Tick-tock! tick-tock!
I PUT on my dream-cap one day and stepped into Wonderland.
Along the road I jogged and never dusted my shoes, and all the time the pleasant sun shone and never burned my back, and the little white clouds floated across the blue sky and never let fall a drop of rain to wet my jacket. And by and by I came to a steep hill.
I climbed the hill, though I had more than one tumble in doing it, and there, on the tip-top, I found a house as old as the world itself. That was where Father Time lived; and who should sit in the sun at the door, spinning away for dear life, but Time's Grandmother herself; and if you would like to know how old she is you will have to climb to the top of the church steeple and ask the wind as he sits upon the weather-cock, humming the tune of Over-yonder song to himself.
"Good-morning," says Time's Grandmother to me.
"Good-morning," says I to her.
"And what do you seek here?" says she to me.
"I come to look for odds and ends," says I to her.
"Very well," says she; "just climb the stairs to the garret, and there you will find more than ten men can think about."
