But Oh, Beamish Nephew, Beware Of The

"well, It's No Use Your Talking About Waking Him," Said Tweedledum, "when You're Only One Of The Things In His Dream. You Know Very Well You're Not Real."

And Ever, As The Story Drained The Wells Of Fancy Dry, And Faintly Strove That Weary One To Put The Subject By, "the Rest Next Time--" "it Is Next Time!" The Happy Voice Cry. Thus Grew The Tale Of Wonderland

You May Charge Me With Murder--or Want Of Sense-- (we Are All Of Us Weak At Times): But The Slightest Approach To A False Pretence Was Never Among My Crimes!

Well That Was The Silliest Tea Party I Ever Went To! I Am Never Going Back There Again!

Where One Is Hopelessly Undecided As To What To Say, There (as Confucius Would Have Said, If They Had Given Him The Opportunity) Silence Is Golden.