A Christmas Fantasy
The Escape of Alice
A Christmas Fantasy
By
PRIVATELY PRINTED AT
CEDAR RAPIDS IOWA FOR
THE FRIENDS OF LUTHER
ALBERTUS AND ELINORE
TAYLOR BREWER CHRISTMAS
NINETEEN NINETEEN
Copyright 1919
By Vincent Starrett
It has been well said, that a friend in need is afriend indeed.
Such a friend, Vincent Starrett, of Chicago, hasproven to be to us.
Last year, more to our regret than to the regretof our friends, we were compelled reluctantly toforego the pleasure and privilege of holding a sessionwith them around our fireplace or beneath ourreading lamp.
And a similar situation was imminent at thisChristmas time—when our good fairy, Mr. Starrett,one morning dropped on our desk The Escapeof Alice with the cheerful message, “It is yours,Brewer, for your Christmas booklet, if you want it.”
So here it is—a pleasant Christmas fantasy—sentto our friends of old and to some new ones,with all the best greetings of the season.
The Brewers
December 25 1919
The red linen covers opened slightly, and alittle girl slipped out, leaving behind her acurious vacancy in one of the familiar picturessigned with Mr. Tenniel’s initials. She lookedabout her with bright, alert eyes, hoping no one hadbeen a witness to her desertion, and then carefullybegan to climb down. She need not have alarmedherself, for she was no bigger than a minute, andclearer eyes than those of the rheumatic old antiquarianwho kept the shop would have been neededto comprehend her departure. Fortunately, theshelf onto which she had emerged was not high,and by exercising great caution the little girl wasable to reach the floor without mishap.
Still watching the old man closely, she reached ahand into the pocket of her print dress and produceda few crumbs of cake, which she immediatelyate. Almost instantly she began to grow, and, in amoment, from a tiny little mite of three or fourinches, she had shot up into as tall a schoolgirl ofthirteen as the proudest parent could wish. Theascent, indeed, was so rapid that before she quiterealized what had happened, there was her head ona level with the shelf upon which, only an instantbefore, she had been standing; and there was the[8]prison from which she had escaped. “Alice’s Adventuresin Wonderland,” read the gold letters overthe door.
She plucked the volume from its place, and adva