July 4th, 2012

... and the Bookman

150 лет "Приключениям Алисы под землей"

4 июля 1862 года:

The Diary of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson:
"Duckworth and I made an expedition up the river to Godstow with the three Liddells: we had tea on the bank there, and did not reach Christ Church again till quarter past eight, when we took them to my rooms to see my collection of micro photographs, and restored them to the Deanery just before nine."

Alice Liddell, 1928:
"The beginning of Alice was told to me one summer afternoon when the sun was so hot we landed in the meadows down the river, deserting the boat to take refuge in the only bit of shade to be found, which was under a newly made hayrick. Here from all three of us, my sisters and myself, came the old petition, 'Tell us a story' and Mr. Dodgson began it.
Sometimes to tease us, Mr. Dodgson would stop and say suddenly, 'That's all till next time.' 'Oh,' we would cry, 'it's not bedtime already!' and he would go on. Another time the story would begin in the boat and Mr. Dodgson would pretend to fall asleep in the middle, to our great dismay."

Robinson Duckworth:
"I rowed stroke and he rowed bow in the famous Long Vacation voyage to Godstow, when the three Miss Liddells were our passengers, and the story was actually composed and spoken over my shoulder for the benefit of Alice Liddell, who was acting as ‘cox’ of our gig. I remember turning round and saying, ‘Dodgson, is this an extempore romance of yours?’ And he replied, ‘Yes, I’m inventing as we go along.’"

Lewis Carroll, 1887:
"Many a day we rowed together on that quiet stream - the three little maidens and I - and many a fairy tale had been extemporised for their benefit... yet none of these tales got written down: they lived and died, like summer midges, each in its own golden afternoon until there came a day when, as it chanced, one of the listeners petitioned that the tale might be written down for her."
The Morra

Мiсцевi новини

Дід приїхав із села,
Ходить по столиці.
Має гроші – не мина
Жодної крамниці.
Попросив він: - Покажіть
Кухлик той, що з краю.
Продавщиця: - Што? Чєво?
Я не панімаю.
- Кухлик, люба, покажіть,
Той, що збоку смужка.
- Да какой же кухлік здєсь,
Єслі ето кружка!
Дід у руки кухлик взяв
І насупив брови:
- В Україні живете
Й не знаєте мови…
Продавщиця теж була
Гостра та бідова.
- У мєня єсть свій язик,
Ні к чєму мне мова.
І сказав їй мудрий дід:
- Цим пишатися не слід,
Бо така сама біда
В моєї корови:
Має, бідна, язика –
І не знає мови!

(Павло Глазовий; процитувала vika_garna.)