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Title: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Author: Lewis Carroll

Contributor: Austin Dobson

Illustrator: Arthur Rackham

Release date: May 19, 2009 [eBook #28885]
Most recently updated: January 5, 2021

Language: English

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28885 (Illustrations in Color and Black and White)

ALICE'S ADVENTURES
IN WONDERLAND

Printed in England

'Tis two score years since Carroll's art,
With topsy-turvy magic,
Sent Alice wondering through a part
Half-comic and half-tragic.

Enchanting Alice! Black-and-white
Has made your deeds perennial;

And naught save "Chaos and old Night"
Can part you now from Tenniel;

But still you are a Type, and based
In Truth, like Lear and Hamlet;
And Types may be re-draped to taste
In cloth-of-gold or camlet.

Here comes afresh Costumier, then;
That Taste may gain a wrinkle
From him who drew with such deft pen
The rags of Rip Van Winkle!
AUSTIN DOBSON.

All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.

Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?

Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict "to begin it"—
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
"There will be nonsense in it!"—
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.

Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast—
And half believe it true.

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 voices cry.

Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out—
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.

Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers
Pluck'd in a far-off land.

CONTENTS

PAGE
I. Down the Rabbit-hole 1
II. The Pool of Tears 13
III. A Caucus-race and a Long Tale 24
IV. The Rabbit sends in a Little Bill 35
V. Advice from a Caterpillar 49
VI. Pig and Pepper 64
VII. A Mad Tea-party 82
VIII. The Queen's Croquet-ground 96
IX. The Mock Turtle's Story 111
X. The Lobster Quadrille 126
XI. Who Stole the Tarts? 139
XII. Alice's Evidence 150

LIST OF THE PLATES
To face
page
Alice Frontispiece
The Pool of Tears 22
They all crowded round it panting and asking, "But who has
28
won?"
"Why, Mary Ann, what are you doing out here?" 36
Advice from a Caterpillar 50
An unusually large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly
70
carried it off
It grunted again so violently that she looked down into its face
74
in some alarm
A Mad Tea-Party 84
The Queen turned angrily away from him and said to the
100
Knave, "Turn them over"
The Queen never left off quarrelling with the other players,
and shouting "Off with his head!" or, "Off with her 116
head!"
The Mock Turtle drew a long breath and said, "That's very
132
curious"
Who stole the Tarts? 140
At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying
158
down upon her

CHAPTER I
LICE was beginning to get very tired of sitting
by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing Down the Rabbit-
Hole
to do: once or twice she had peeped into the
book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations
in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice, "without pictures or
conversations?"
So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the
hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid) whether the pleasure of
making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking
the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.
There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so
very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, "Oh dear! Oh
dear! I shall be too late!" (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred
to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed
quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its
waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her
feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit
with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with
curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop
down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.
In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how
in the world she was to get out again.
The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then
dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think
about stopping herself before she found herself falling down what seemed
to be a very deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell
very slowly, for she had plenty of time as
she went down to look about her, and to
wonder what was going to happen next.
First, she tried to look down and make out

what she was coming to, but it was too dark
to see anything; then she looked at the sides
of the well and noticed that they were filled
with cupboards and book-shelves: here and
there she saw maps and pictures hung upon
pegs. She took down a jar from one of the
shelves as she passed; it was labelled
"ORANGE MARMALADE," but to her
disappointment it was empty; she did not
like to drop the jar for fear of killing
somebody underneath, so managed to put it
into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.
"Well!" thought Alice to herself. "After
such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of
tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all
think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say
anything about it, even if I fell off the top of
the house!" (Which was very likely true.)

Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end? "I wonder
how many miles I've fallen by this time?" she said aloud. "I must be getting
somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four
thousand miles down. I think—" (for, you see, Alice had learnt several
things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not
a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one
to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) "—yes, that's about
the right distance—but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got
to?" (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought
they were nice grand words to say.)
Presently she began again. "I wonder if I shall fall right through the
earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with
their heads downwards! The Antipathies, I think—" (she was rather glad
there was no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word)
"—but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know.
Please, Ma'am, is this New Zealand or Australia?" (and she tried to curtsey
as she spoke—fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air! Do you
think you could manage it?) "And what an ignorant little girl she'll think
me! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere."
Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began
talking again. "Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!"
(Dinah was the cat.) "I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time.
Dinah, my dear, I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in
the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse,
you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?" And here Alice began to get
rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, "Do
cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?" and sometimes, "Do bats eat cats?" for, you
see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way
she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that
she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly,
"Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?" when suddenly,

thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and
the fall was over.
Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment:
she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long
passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There
was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in
time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, "Oh my ears and whiskers, how late
it's getting!" She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the
Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall,
which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.
There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when
Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every
door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to
get out again.
Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid
glass; there was nothing on it but a tiny golden key, and Alice's first idea
was that this might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either
the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would
not open any of them. However, on the second time round, she came upon a
low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about
fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her
great delight it fitted!
Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not
much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage
into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that
dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those
cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway;
"even if my head would go through," thought poor Alice, "it would be of
very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a
telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin." For, you see, so
many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to
think that very few things indeed were really impossible.
There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back
to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a

book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a
little bottle on it ("which certainly was not here before," said Alice,) and
tied round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words "DRINK
ME" beautifully printed on it in large letters.
It was all very well to say "Drink me," but the wise little Alice was not
going to do that in a hurry. "No, I'll look first," she said, "and see whether
it's marked 'poison' or not;" for she had read several nice little stories about
children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts, and other
unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules
their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if
you hold it too long; and that, if you cut your finger very deeply with a
knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much
from a bottle marked "poison," it is almost certain to disagree with you,
sooner or later.
However, this bottle was not marked "poison," so Alice ventured to taste
it, and finding it very nice (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-
tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, coffee, and hot buttered toast,) she
very soon finished it off.

"What a curious feeling!" said Alice. "I must be shutting up like a
telescope."
And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face
brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going
through that little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited
for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a
little nervous about this: "for it might end, you know," said Alice to herself,
"in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like
then?" And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle looks like after the
candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a
thing.
After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going
into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the door,

she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back
to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it
quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the
legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out
with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.
"Come, there's no use in crying like that!" said Alice to herself, rather
sharply. "I advise you to leave off this minute!" She generally gave herself
very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she
scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she
remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a
game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was
very fond of pretending to be two people. "But it's no use now," thought
poor Alice, "to pretend to be two people! Why there's hardly enough of me
left to make one respectable person!"
Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she
opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words "EAT ME"
were beautifully marked in currants. "Well, I'll eat it," said Alice, "and if it
makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller,
I can creep under the door; so either way I'll get into the garden, and I don't
care which happens!"
She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, "Which way? Which
way?" holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was
growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same
size; to be sure, this is what generally happens when one eats cake, but
Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way
things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the
common way.
So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.

CHAPTER II
URIOUSER and curiouser!" cried Alice (she
was so much surprised, that for a moment she Pool of Tears
quite forgot how to speak good English); "now
I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-
bye, feet!" (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost
out of sight, they were getting so far off). "Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder
who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I'm sure I
sha'n't be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about
you: you must manage the best way you can—but I must be kind to them,"
thought Alice, "or perhaps they won't walk the way I want to go! Let me
see: I'll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas."
And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. "They
must go by the carrier," she thought; "and how funny it'll seem, sending
presents to one's own feet! And how odd the directions will look!
Alice's Right Foot, Esq.
Hearthrug,
near the Fender,
(with Alice's love).
Oh dear, what nonsense I'm talking!"
Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was now
rather more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key
and hurried off to the garden door.
Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to
look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more
hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Alice, "a great girl like you"
(she might well say this), "to go on crying in this way! Stop this moment, I
tell you!" But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until
there was a large pool all round her, about four inches deep and reaching
half down the hall.

After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in
the distance, and she hastily dried her eyes to see
what was coming. It was the White Rabbit returning,
splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in
one hand and a large fan in the other: he came
trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself
as he came, "Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh!
won't she be savage if I've kept her waiting!" Alice
felt so desperate that she was ready to ask help of
any one; so, when the Rabbit came near her, she
began, in a low, timid voice, "If you please, sir——"
The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid
gloves and the fan, and scurried away into the
darkness as hard as he could go.
Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall
was very hot, she kept fanning herself all the time
she went on talking! "Dear, dear! How queer
everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on
just as usual. I wonder if I've been changed during
the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got Curiouser and Curiouser
up this morning? I almost think I can remember
feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, who in
the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle!" And she began thinking over
all the children she knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she
could have been changed for any of them.
"I'm sure I'm not Ada," she said, "for her hair goes in such long ringlets,
and mine doesn't go in ringlets at all; and I'm sure I can't be Mabel, for I
know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a very little! Besides,
she's she, and I'm I, and—oh dear, how puzzling it all is! I'll try if I know all
the things I used to know. Let me see: four times five is twelve, and four
times six is thirteen, and four times seven is—oh dear! I shall never get to
twenty at that rate! However, the Multiplication Table doesn't signify: let's
try Geography. London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of
Rome, and Rome—no, that's all wrong, I'm certain! I must have been
changed for Mabel! I'll try and say 'How doth the little——'" and she
crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to

repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not
come the same as they used to do:—
"How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

"How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!"
"I'm sure those are not the right words," said poor Alice, and her eyes
filled with tears again as she went on. "I must be Mabel, after all, and I shall
have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to no toys to
play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! No, I've made up my mind
about it; if I'm Mabel, I'll stay down here! It'll be no use their putting their
heads down and saying, 'Come up again, dear!' I shall only look up and say,
'Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like being that person, I'll
come up: if not, I'll stay down here till I'm somebody else'—but, oh dear!"
cried Alice with a sudden burst of tears, "I do wish they would put their
heads down! I am so very tired of being all alone here!"
As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see
that she had put on one of the Rabbit's little white kid gloves while she was
talking. "How can I have done that?" she thought. "I must be growing small
again." She got up and went to the table to measure herself by it, and found
that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet high, and
was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon found out that the cause of this
was the fan she was holding, and she dropped it hastily, just in time to avoid
shrinking away altogether.
"That was a narrow escape!" said Alice, a good deal frightened at the
sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; "and now for
the garden!" and she ran with all speed back to the little door: but alas! the
little door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying on the glass
table as before, "and things are worse than ever," thought the poor child,

"for I never was so small as this before, never! And I declare it's too bad,
that it is!"
As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash!
she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she had
somehow fallen into the sea, "and in that case I can go back by railway,"
she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once in her life, and had
come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go to on the English
coast you find a number of bathing machines in the sea, some children
digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row of lodging houses, and
behind them a railway station.) However, she soon made out that she was in
the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high.
"I wish I hadn't cried so much!" said Alice, as she swam about, trying to
find her way out. "I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being
drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to be sure! However,
everything is queer to-day."
Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way
off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it
must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she
was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped
in like herself.
"Would it be of any use now," thought Alice, "to speak to this mouse?
Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very likely it
can talk: at any rate, there's no harm in trying." So she began: "O Mouse, do
you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about
here, O Mouse!" (Alice thought this must be the right way of speaking to a
mouse; she had never done such a thing before, but she remembered having
seen in her brother's Latin Grammar, "A mouse—of a mouse—to a mouse
—a mouse—O mouse!") The Mouse looked at her rather inquisitively, and
seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing.
"Perhaps it doesn't understand English," thought Alice; "I daresay it's a
French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror." (For, with all her
knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything
had happened.) So she began again: "Où est ma chatte?" which was the first
sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of

the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. "Oh, I beg your
pardon!" cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's
feelings. "I quite forgot you didn't like cats."
"Not like cats!" cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. "Would
you like cats if you were me?"
"Well, perhaps not," said Alice in a soothing tone: "don't be angry about
it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you'd take a fancy
to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear quiet thing," Alice went
on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, "and she sits
purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her face—and
she is such a nice soft thing to nurse—and she's such a capital one for
catching mice——oh, I beg your pardon!" cried Alice again, for this time
the Mouse was bristling all over, and she felt certain it must be really
offended. "We won't talk about her any more if you'd rather not."
"We, indeed!" cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of
his tail. "As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always hated cats:
nasty, low, vulgar things! Don't let me hear the name again!"

The Pool of Tears

"I won't indeed!" said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of
conversation. "Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?" The Mouse did not
answer, so Alice went on eagerly: "There is such a nice little dog near our
house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed terrier, you know, with
oh, such long curly brown hair! And it'll fetch things when you throw them,
and it'll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts of things—I can't
remember half of them—and it belongs to a farmer, you know, and he says
it's so useful, it's worth a hundred pounds! He says it kills all the rats and—
oh dear!" cried Alice in a sorrowful tone, "I'm afraid I've offended it again!"
For the Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and
making quite a commotion in the pool as it went.
So she called softly after it, "Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we
won't talk about cats or dogs either, if you don't like them!"

When the Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to
her: its face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a
low trembling voice, "Let us get to the shore, and then I'll tell you my
history, and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs."
It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the
birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo, a
Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the way,
and the whole party swam to the shore.

CHAPTER III
HEY were indeed a queer-looking party that
assembled on the bank—the birds with A Caucus-race and
a Long Tale
draggled feathers, the animals with their fur
clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and
uncomfortable.
The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a
consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to
Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them
all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the Lory, who at last
turned sulky, and would only say, "I am older than you, and must know
better;" and this Alice would not allow without knowing how old it was,
and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no more to be
said.
At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them,
called out "Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I'll soon make you dry
enough!" They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in the
middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure she would
catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon.
"Ahem!" said the Mouse with an important air. "Are you all ready? This
is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! 'William the
Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to
by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed
to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and
Northumbria—'"
"Ugh!" said the Lory, with a shiver.
"I beg your pardon!" said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely. "Did
you speak?"
"Not I!" said the Lory hastily.
"I thought you did," said the Mouse, "—I proceed. 'Edwin and Morcar,
the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand,

the patriotic Archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable—'"
"Found what?" said the Duck.
"Found it," the Mouse replied rather crossly: "of course you know what
'it' means."
"I know what 'it' means well enough, when I find a thing," said the
Duck; "it's generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the
archbishop find?"
The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, "'—found
it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the
crown. William's conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence of his
Normans—' How are you getting on now, my dear?" it continued, turning to
Alice as it spoke.
"As wet as ever," said Alice in a melancholy tone; "doesn't seem to dry
me at all."
"In that case," said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, "I move that the
meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies
——"
"Speak English!" said the Eaglet. "I don't know the meaning of half
those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!" And the
Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered
audibly.
"What I was going to say," said the Dodo in an offended tone, "was that
the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race."
"What is a Caucus-race?" said Alice; not that she much wanted to know,
but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and
no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
"Why," said the Dodo, "the best way to explain it is to do it." (And, as
you might like to try the thing yourself some winter day, I will tell you how
the Dodo managed it.)

First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, ("the exact shape
doesn't matter," it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course,
here and there. There was no "One, two, three, and away," but they began
running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not
easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been
running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly
called "The race is over!" and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking
"But who has won?"
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought,
and it stood for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the
position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him),
while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said "Everybody has won,
and all must have prizes."
"But who is to give the prizes?" quite a chorus of voices asked.
"Why, she, of course," said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger;
and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused
way, "Prizes! Prizes!"
Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her
pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits (luckily the salt water had not got
into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one apiece all
round.

They all crowded round it
panting and asking, "But who
has won?"

"But she must have a prize herself, you know," said the Mouse.
"Of course," the Dodo replied very gravely.
"What else have you got in your pocket?" it went on, turning to Alice.
"Only a thimble," said Alice sadly.
"Hand it over here," said the Dodo.
Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly
presented the thimble, saying "We beg your acceptance of this elegant
thimble;" and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered.
Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave
that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say,

she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she could.
The next thing was to eat the comfits; this caused some noise and
confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and
the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it was
over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged the Mouse to tell
them something more.
"You promised to tell me your history, you know," said Alice, "and why
it is you hate—C and D," she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would
be offended again.

"Mine is a long and sad tale!" said the Mouse, turning to Alice and
sighing.
"It is a long tail, certainly," said Alice, looking down with wonder at the
Mouse's tail; "but why do you call it sad?" And she kept on puzzling about
it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something
like this:—
"Fury said to
a mouse, That
he met in the
house, 'Let
us both go

to law: I
will prose-
cute you.—
Come, I'll
take no de-
nial: We
must have
the trial;
For really
this morn-
ing I've
nothing
to do.'
Said the
mouse to
the cur,
'Such a
trial, dear
sir, With
no jury
or judge,
would
be wast-
ing our
breath.'
'I'll be
judge,
I'll be
jury,'
said
cun-
ning
old
Fury:
'I'll
try
the

whole
cause,
and
con-
demn
you to
death.'

"You are not attending!" said the Mouse to Alice severely. "What are you
thinking of?"
"I beg your pardon," said Alice very humbly: "you had got to the fifth
bend, I think?"
"I had not!" cried the Mouse, angrily.
"A knot!" said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking
anxiously about her. "Oh, do let me help to undo it!"
"I shall do nothing of the sort," said the Mouse, getting up and walking
away. "You insult me by talking such nonsense!"
"I didn't mean it!" pleaded poor Alice. "But you're so easily offended,
you know!"
The Mouse only growled in reply.
"Please come back and finish your story!" Alice called after it. And the
others all joined in chorus, "Yes, please do!" but the Mouse only shook its
head impatiently and walked a little quicker.
"What a pity it wouldn't stay!" sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite
out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to her daughter,
"Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose your temper!"
"Hold your tongue, Ma!" said the young Crab, a little snappishly.
"You're enough to try the patience of an oyster!"
"I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!" said Alice aloud, addressing
nobody in particular. "She'd soon fetch it back!"

"And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?" said the
Lory.
Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet:
"Dinah's our cat. And she's such a capital one for catching mice, you ca'n't
think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, she'll eat a
little bird as soon as look at it!"
This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the
birds hurried off at once; one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very
carefully, remarking "I really must be getting home; the night-air doesn't
suit my throat!" and a Canary called out in a trembling voice to its children
"Come away, my dears! It's high time you were all in bed!" On various
pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone.
"I wish I hadn't mentioned Dinah!" she said to herself in a melancholy
tone. "Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I'm sure she's the best cat
in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you any
more!" And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and
low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a little pattering of
footsteps in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half hoping that the
Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming back to finish his story.

CHAPTER IV
T was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back
again, and looking anxiously about as it went, The Rabbit sends in
a Little Bill
as if it had lost something; and she heard it
muttering to itself, "The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear
paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are
ferrets! Where can I have dropped them, I wonder?" Alice guessed in a
moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and
she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were
nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in
the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had
vanished completely.
Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and
called out to her in an angry tone, "Why, Mary Ann, what are you doing out
here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan!
Quick, now!" And Alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once in
the direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it had made.
"He took me for his housemaid," she said to herself as she ran. "How
surprised he'll be when he finds out who I am! But I'd better take him his
fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them." As she said this, she came upon
a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the
name "W. RABBIT" engraved upon it. She went in without knocking, and
hurried up stairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real Mary Ann, and
be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.

"Why, Mary Ann, what are
you doing out here?"

"How queer it seems," Alice said to herself, "to be doing messages for a
rabbit! I suppose Dinah'll be sending me on messages next!" And she began
fancying the sort of thing that would happen: "'Miss Alice! Come here
directly, and get ready for your walk!' 'Coming in a minute, nurse! But I've
got to watch this mouse-hole till Dinah comes back, and see that the mouse
doesn't get out.' Only I don't think," Alice went on, "that they'd let Dinah
stop in the house if it began ordering people about like that!"
By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in
the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of tiny
white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and was just
going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood
near the looking-glass. There was no label this time with the words
"DRINK ME," but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. "I

know something interesting is sure to happen," she said to herself,
"whenever I eat or drink anything; so I'll just see what this bottle does. I do
hope it will make me grow large again, for really I'm quite tired of being
such a tiny little thing!"
It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had
drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and
had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put down the
bottle, saying to herself "That's quite enough—I hope I sha'n't grow any
more—As it is, I can't get out at the door—I do wish I hadn't drunk quite so
much!"
Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing,
and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was
not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one
elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. Still she
went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the
window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself "Now I can do no
more, whatever happens. What will become of me?"
Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and
she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to
be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, no wonder
she felt unhappy.
"It was much pleasanter at home," thought poor Alice, "when one wasn't
always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and
rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and
yet—it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what can
have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of
thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought
to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up, I'll
write one—but I'm grown up now," she added in a sorrowful tone; "at least
there's no room to grow up any more here."
"But then," thought Alice, "shall I never get any older than I am now?
That'll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but then—
always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn't like that!"

"Oh, you foolish Alice!" she answered herself. "How can you learn
lessons in here? Why, there's hardly room for you, and no room at all for
any lesson-books!"
And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making
quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard a
voice outside, and stopped to listen.
"Mary Ann! Mary Ann!" said the voice. "Fetch me my gloves this
moment!" Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it
was the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the
house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as
the Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it.
Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as the
door opened inwards, and Alice's elbow was pressed hard against it, that
attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself "Then I'll go round and
get in at the window."
"That you won't" thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she
heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand,
and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, but she heard
a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which she
concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or
something of the sort.
Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit's—"Pat! Pat! Where are you?"
And then a voice she had never heard before, "Sure then I'm here! Digging
for apples, yer honour!"
"Digging for apples, indeed!" said the Rabbit angrily. "Here! Come and
help me out of this!" (Sounds of more broken glass.)
"Now tell me, Pat, what's that in the window?"
"Sure, it's an arm, yer honour." (He pronounced it "arrum.")
"An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole
window!"
"Sure, it does, yer honour? but it's an arm for all that."

"Well, it's got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!"
There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers
now and then; such as, "Sure, I don't like it, yer honour, at all, at all!" "Do
as I tell you, you coward!" and at last she spread out her hand again, and
made another snatch in the air. This time there were two little shrieks, and
more sounds of broken glass. "What a number of cucumber-frames there
must be!" thought Alice. "I wonder what they'll do next! As for pulling me
out of the window, I only wish they could! I'm sure I don't want to stay in
here any longer!"
She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a
rumbling of little cart-wheels, and the sound of a good many voices all
talking together: she made out the words: "Where's the other ladder?—Why
I hadn't to bring but one; Bill's got the other—Bill! Fetch it here, lad!—
Here, put 'em up at this corner—No, tie 'em together first—they don't reach
half high enough yet—Oh! they'll do well enough; don't be particular—
Here, Bill! catch hold of this rope—Will the roof bear?—Mind that loose
slate—Oh, it's coming down! Heads below!" (a loud crash)—"Now, who
did that?—It was Bill, I fancy—Who's to go down the chimney?—Nay, I
sha'n't! You do it!—That I won't, then! Bill's to go down—Here, Bill! the
master says you've to go down the chimney!"
"Oh! So Bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?" said Alice to
herself. "Why, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn't be in Bill's
place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but I think I can
kick a little!"
She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till
she heard a little animal (she couldn't guess of what sort it was) scratching
and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, saying to
herself "This is Bill," she gave one sharp kick, and waited to see what
would happen next.
The first thing she heard was a general chorus of "There goes Bill!" then
the Rabbit's voice alone—"Catch him, you by the hedge!" then silence, and
then another confusion of voices—"Hold up his head—Brandy now—Don't
choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to you? Tell us all
about it!"

At last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, ("That's Bill," thought
Alice,) "Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I'm better now—but I'm
a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me like a
Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!"
"So you did, old fellow!" said the others.
"We must burn the house down!" said the Rabbit's voice. And Alice
called out as loud as she could, "If you do, I'll set Dinah at you!"
There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself "I
wonder what they will do next! If they had any sense, they'd take the roof
off." After a minute or two they began moving about again, and Alice heard
the Rabbit say "A barrowful will do, to begin with."
"A barrowful of what?" thought Alice. But she had not long to doubt, for
the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window,
and some of them hit her in the face. "I'll put a stop to this," she said to
herself, and shouted out "You'd better not do that again!" which produced
another dead silence.
Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into
little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her head. "If
I eat one of these cakes," she thought, "it's sure to make some change in my
size; and, as it can't possibly make me larger, it must make me smaller, I
suppose."
So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she
began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through
the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little animals
and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was in the middle,
being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it something out of a
bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she appeared; but she ran
off as hard as she could, and soon found herself safe in a thick wood.
"The first thing I've got to do," said Alice to herself, as she wandered
about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and the second thing
is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be the best plan."

It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply
arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how to
set about it; and, while she was peering about anxiously among the trees, a
little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great hurry.
An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and
feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. "Poor little thing!" said
Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; but she was
terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be hungry, in
which case it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of all her coaxing.
Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held
it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its feet
at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, and made believe to
worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep herself from
being run over; and, the moment she appeared on the other side, the puppy
made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to
get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play
with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its
feet, ran round the thistle again; then the puppy began a series of short
charges at the stick, running a little way forwards each time and a long way
back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it sat down a good way
off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half
shut.
This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she
set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till the
puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance.
"And yet what a dear little puppy it was!" said Alice, as she leant against
a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the leaves. "I
should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if—if I'd only been the right
size to do it! Oh, dear! I'd nearly forgotten that I've got to grow up again!
Let me see—how is it to be managed? I suppose I ought to eat or drink
something or other; but the great question is, what?"
The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at the
flowers and the blades of grass, but she could not see anything that looked
like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. There was a

large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself; and,
when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it
occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of
it.
She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the
mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar,
that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long
hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.

CHAPTER V
HE Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other
for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar Advice from a
Caterpillar
took the hookah out of its mouth, and
addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied,
rather shyly, "I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I know who I was
when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several
times since then."
"What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar sternly. "Explain
yourself!"
"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir," said Alice, "because I'm not
myself, you see."
"I don't see," said the Caterpillar.
"I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly," Alice replied very politely, "for I
can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes
in a day is very confusing."
"It isn't," said the Caterpillar.
"Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet," said Alice, "but when you
have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and then after
that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?"
"Not a bit," said the Caterpillar.
"Well, perhaps your feelings may be different," said Alice; "all I know is,
it would feel very queer to me."
"You!" said the Caterpillar contemptuously. "Who are you?"
Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation.
Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such very short

remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, "I think you ought
to tell me who you are, first."
"Why?" said the Caterpillar.

Advice from a Caterpillar

Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any
good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state
of mind, she turned away.
"Come back!" the Caterpillar called after her. "I've something important
to say!"
This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again.
"Keep your temper," said the Caterpillar.

"Is that all?" said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could.
"No," said the Caterpillar.
Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and
perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some
minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms,
took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, "So you think you're
changed, do you?"
"I'm afraid I am, sir," said Alice; "I can't remember things as I used—and
I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!"
"Can't remember what things?" said the Caterpillar.
"Well, I've tried to say 'How doth the little busy bee,' but it all came
different!" Alice replied in a very melancholy voice.
"Repeat 'You are old, Father William,'" said the Caterpillar.
Alice folded her hands, and began:—
"You are old, Father William," the young
man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head
—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his
son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I
mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the
door—

Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his
grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the
box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws
are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones
and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the
law
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to
my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would
hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your
nose—
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is
enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such
stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!"

"That is not said right," said the Caterpillar.
"Not quite right, I'm afraid," said Alice, timidly; "some of the words
have got altered."
"It is wrong from beginning to end," said the Caterpillar, decidedly, and
there was silence for some minutes.
The Caterpillar was the first to speak.
"What size do you want to be?" it asked.
"Oh, I'm not particular as to size," Alice hastily replied; "only one
doesn't like changing so often, you know."
"I don't know," said the Caterpillar.
Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in all her
life before, and she felt that she was losing her temper.
"Are you content now?" said the Caterpillar.
"Well, I should like to be a little larger, sir, if you wouldn't mind," said
Alice: "three inches is such a wretched height to be."
"It is a very good height indeed!" said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing
itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high).
"But I'm not used to it!" pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And she
thought to herself, "I wish the creatures wouldn't be so easily offended!"
"You'll get used to it in time," said the Caterpillar; and it put its hookah
into its mouth and began smoking again.
This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a minute
or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or
twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled
away into the grass, merely remarking as it went, "One side will make you
grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter."
"One side of what? The other side of what?" thought Alice to herself.

"Of the mushroom," said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud;
and in another moment it was out of sight.
Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute,
trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly
round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she
stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of
the edge with each hand.
"And now which is which?" she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the
right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a violent blow
underneath her chin: it had struck her foot!

She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt
that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she set to
work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed so closely
against her foot that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it
at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the left-hand bit.

"Come, my head's free at last!" said Alice in a tone of delight, which
changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders
were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was an

immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of
green leaves that lay far below her.
"What can all that green stuff be?" said Alice. "And where have my
shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I ca'n't see you?" She
was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except
a little shaking among the distant green leaves.
As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she
tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her neck
would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had just
succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to dive
in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of the trees
under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her draw
back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was beating her
violently with its wings.
"Serpent!" screamed the Pigeon.
"I'm not a serpent!" said Alice indignantly. "Let me alone!"
"Serpent, I say again!" repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone,
and added with a kind of a sob, "I've tried every way, and nothing seems to
suit them!"
"I haven't the least idea what you're talking about," said Alice.
"I've tried the roots of trees, and I've tried banks, and I've tried hedges,"
the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; "but those serpents! There's
no pleasing them!"
Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in
saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished.
"As if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs," said the Pigeon; "but
I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I haven't had a
wink of sleep these three weeks!"
"I'm very sorry you've been annoyed," said Alice, who was beginning to
see its meaning.

"And just as I'd taken the
highest tree in the wood,"
continued the Pigeon, raising its
voice to a shriek, "and just as I
was thinking I should be free of
them at last, they must needs
come wriggling down from the
sky! Ugh, Serpent!"
"But I'm not a serpent, I tell
you!" said Alice. "I'm a—— I'm a
——"
"Well! What are you?" said the
Pigeon. "I can see you're trying to
invent something!"
"I—I'm a little girl," said Alice,
rather doubtfully, as she
remembered the number of
changes she had gone through that
day.
"A likely story indeed!" said
the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest contempt. "I've seen a good many little
girls in my time, but never one with such a neck as that! No, no! You're a
serpent; and there's no use denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next
that you never tasted an egg!"
"I have tasted eggs, certainly," said Alice, who was a very truthful child;
"but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know."
"I don't believe it," said the Pigeon; "but if they do, why then they're a
kind of serpent, that's all I can say."
This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a minute
or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, "You're looking
for eggs, I know that well enough; and what does it matter to me whether
you're a little girl or a serpent?"

"It matters a good deal to me," said Alice hastily; "but I'm not looking
for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn't want yours: I don't like
them raw."
"Well, be off, then!" said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down
again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well as she
could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every
now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she remembered
that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work
very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing
sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing
herself down to her usual height.
It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it felt
quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began
talking to herself, as usual. "Come, there's half my plan done now! How
puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from
one minute to another! However, I've got back to my right size: the next
thing is, to get into that beautiful garden—how is that to be done, I
wonder?" As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a
little house in it about four feet high. "Whoever lives there," thought Alice,
"it'll never do to come upon them this size: why, I should frighten them out
of their wits!" So she began nibbling at the right-hand bit again, and did not
venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine
inches high.

CHAPTER VI
OR a minute or two she stood looking at the
house, and wondering what to do next, when Pig and Pepper
suddenly a footman in livery came running out
of the wood—(she considered him to be a footman because he was
in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a
fish)—and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened by
another footman in livery, with a round face and large eyes like a frog; and
both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their
heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept a little
way out of the wood to listen.
The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter,
nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, saying, in a
solemn tone, "For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play
croquet." The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, only
changing the order of the words a little, "From the Queen. An invitation for
the Duchess to play croquet."
Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together.
Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for
fear of their hearing her; and, when she next peeped out, the Fish-Footman
was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring
stupidly up into the sky.
Alice went timidly up to the door and knocked.
"There's no use in knocking," said the Footman, "and that for two
reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as you are;
secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly
hear you." And certainly there was a most extraordinary noise going on
within—a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a great
crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces.
"Please, then," said Alice, "how am I to get in?"

"There might be some sense in your knocking," the Footman went on
without attending to her, "if we had the door between us. For instance, if
you were inside, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know." He
was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this Alice
thought decidedly uncivil. "But perhaps he can't help it," she said to herself:
"his eyes are so very nearly at the top of his head. But at any rate he might
answer questions. How am I to get in?" she repeated aloud.
"I shall sit here," the Footman remarked, "till to-morrow——"
At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came
skimming out, straight at the Footman's head: it just grazed his nose, and
broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him.
"——or next day, maybe," the Footman continued in the same tone,
exactly as if nothing had happened.
"How am I to get in?" asked Alice again in a louder tone.
"Are you to get in at all?" said the Footman. "That's the first question,
you know."
It was, no doubt: only Alice
did not like to be told so. "It's
really dreadful," she muttered to
herself, "the way all the
creatures argue. It's enough to
drive one crazy!"
The Footman seemed to
consider this a good opportunity
for repeating his remark, with
variations. "I shall sit here," he
said, "on and off, for days and
days."
"But what am I to do?" said
Alice.

"Anything you like," said the Footman, and began whistling.
"Oh, there's no use in talking to him," said Alice desperately: "he's
perfectly idiotic!" And she opened the door and went in.
The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from
one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the
middle, nursing a baby, the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large
cauldron which seemed to be full of soup.
"There's certainly too much pepper in that soup!" Alice said to herself, as
well as she could for sneezing.
There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed
occasionally; and the baby was sneezing and howling alternately without a
moment's pause. The only things in the kitchen that did not sneeze, were the
cook, and a large cat which was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear
to ear.
"Please would you tell me," said Alice a little timidly, for she was not
quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, "why your cat
grins like that?"
"It's a Cheshire cat," said the Duchess, "and that's why. Pig!"
She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite
jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby,
and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again:
"I didn't know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn't know
that cats could grin."
"They all can," said the Duchess; "and most of 'em do."
"I don't know of any that do," Alice said very politely, feeling quite
pleased to have got into a conversation.
"You don't know much," said the Duchess; "and that's a fact."
Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would be
as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. While she was

trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and at
once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the Duchess and
the baby—the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of saucepans,
plates, and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of them even when they hit
her; and the baby was howling so much already, that it was quite impossible
to say whether the blows hurt it or not.
"Oh, please mind what you're doing!" cried Alice, jumping up and down
in an agony of terror. "Oh, there goes his precious nose"; as an unusually
large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off.
"If everybody minded their own business," the Duchess said in a hoarse
growl, "the world would go round a deal faster than it does."

An unusually large
saucepan flew close by it,
and very nearly carried it
off

"Which would not be an advantage," said Alice, who felt very glad to get
an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. "Just think what
work it would make with the day and night! You see the earth takes twenty-
four hours to turn round on its axis——"
"Talking of axes," said the Duchess, "chop off her head."
Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take the
hint; but the cook was busily engaged in stirring the soup, and did not seem
to be listening, so she ventured to go on again: "Twenty-four hours, I think;
or is it twelve? I——"
"Oh, don't bother me," said the Duchess; "I never could abide figures!"
And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to
it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line:
"Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes:
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases."

Chorus
(In which the cook and the baby joined):
"Wow! wow! wow!"
While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing
the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that
Alice could hardly hear the words:
"I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!"

Chorus.
"Wow! wow! wow!"
"Here! you may nurse it a bit if you like!" the Duchess said to Alice,
flinging the baby at her as she spoke. "I must go and get ready to play

croquet with the Queen," and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw a
frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her.
Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped
little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, "just like a
star-fish," thought Alice. The poor little thing was snorting like a steam-
engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and straightening
itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute or two, it was as
much as she could do to hold it.
As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to
twist it up into a knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot,
so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it out into the open air. "If I
don't take this child away with me," thought Alice, "they're sure to kill it in
a day or two: wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?" She said the last
words out loud, and the little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing
by this time). "Don't grunt," said Alice; "that's not at all a proper way of
expressing yourself."
The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face to
see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had a very
turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes were
getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Alice did not like the look of
the thing at all. "But perhaps it was only sobbing," she thought, and looked
into its eyes again, to see if there were any tears.
No, there were no tears. "If you're going to turn into a pig, my dear," said
Alice, seriously, "I'll have nothing more to do with you. Mind now!" The
poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to say which),
and they went on for some while in silence.
Alice was just beginning to think to herself, "Now, what am I to do with
this creature when I get it home?" when it grunted again, so violently, that
she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time there could be no
mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt that it
would be quite absurd for her to carry it any further.
So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it trot
quietly away into the wood. "If it had grown up," she said to herself, "it

would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes rather a handsome
pig, I think." And she began thinking over other children she knew, who
might do very well as pigs, and was just saying to herself, "if one only
knew the right way to change them——" when she was a little startled by
seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off.

It grunted again so violently
that she looked down into its
face in some alarm

The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she
thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it
ought to be treated with respect.
"Cheshire Puss," she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know
whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider.
"Come, it's pleased so far," thought Alice, and she went on. "Would you tell
me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good
deal on where you want
to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care
where——" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter
which way you go," said
the Cat.
"—— so long as I get
somewhere," Alice added
as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long
enough."
Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question.
"What sort of people live about here?"
"In that direction," the Cat said, waving its right paw round, "lives a
Hatter: and in that direction," waving the other paw, "lives a March Hare.
Visit either you like: they're both mad."
"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you ca'n't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad.
You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on. "And how
do you know that you're mad?"
"To begin with," said the Cat, "a dog's not mad. You grant that?"
"I suppose so," said Alice.

"Well, then," the Cat went on, "you see a dog growls when it's angry, and
wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my
tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad."
"I call it purring, not growling," said Alice.
"Call it what you like," said the Cat. "Do you play croquet with the
Queen to-day?"
"I should like it very much," said Alice, "but I haven't been invited yet."
"You'll see me there," said the Cat and vanished.
Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer
things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it
suddenly appeared again.
"By-the-bye, what became of the baby?" said the Cat. "I'd nearly
forgotten to ask."
"It turned into a pig," Alice quietly said, just as if it had come back in a
natural way.
"I thought it would," said the Cat, and vanished again.
Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not appear,
and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the March
Hare was said to live. "I've seen hatters before," she said to herself; "the
March Hare will be much the most interesting, and perhaps as this is May, it
won't be raving mad—at least not so mad as it was in March." As she said
this, she looked up, and there was the Cat again, sitting on the branch of a
tree.
"Did you say pig, or fig?" said the Cat.
"I said pig," replied Alice; "and I wish you wouldn't keep appearing and
vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy."
"All right," said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly,
beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained
some time after the rest of it had gone.

"Well! I've often seen a cat without a grin," thought Alice; "but a grin
without a cat! It's the most curious thing I ever saw in all my life."
She had not gone much
farther before she came in
sight of the house of the
March Hare: she thought it
must be the right house,
because the chimneys were
shaped like ears and the roof
was thatched with fur. It was
so large a house, that she did
not like to go nearer till she
had nibbled some more of the
left-hand bit of mushroom,
and raised herself, to about
two feet high: even then she
walked up towards it rather
timidly, saying to herself,
"Suppose it should be raving
mad after all! I almost wish
I'd gone to see the Hatter
instead!"

CHAPTER VII
HERE was a table set out under a tree in front
of the house, and the March Hare and the A Mad Tea-party
Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was
sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it
as a cushion resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. "Very
uncomfortable for the Dormouse," thought Alice; "only as it's asleep,
suppose it doesn't mind."
The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one
corner of it. "No room! No room!" they cried out when they saw Alice
coming.
"There's plenty of room!" said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a
large arm-chair at one end of the table.
"Have some wine," the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. "I
don't see any wine," she remarked.
"There isn't any," said the March Hare.
"Then it wasn't very civil of you to offer it," said Alice angrily.
"It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited," said the
March Hare.
"I didn't know it was your table," said Alice; "it's laid for a great many
more than three."
"Your hair wants cutting," said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice
for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.
"You should learn not to make personal remarks," Alice said with some
severity; "it's very rude."
The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was
"Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"

"Come, we shall have some fun now!" thought Alice. "I'm glad they've
begun asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that," she added aloud.
"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" said the
March Hare.
"Exactly so," said Alice.
"Then you should say what you mean," the March Hare went on.
"I do," Alice hastily replied; "at least—at least I mean what I say—that's
the same thing, you know."
"Not the same thing a bit!" said the Hatter. "Why, you might just as well
say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I see'!"
"You might just as well say," added the March Hare, "that 'I like what I
get' is the same thing as 'I get what I like'!"
"You might just as well say," added the Dormouse, which seemed to be
talking in his sleep, "that 'I breathe when I sleep' is the same thing as 'I sleep
when I breathe'!"
"It is the same thing with you," said the Hatter; and here the
conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice
thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which
wasn't much.

A Mad Tea Party

The Hatter was the first to break the silence. "What day of the month is
it?" he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, and
was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding it to
his ear.
Alice considered a little, and then said "The fourth."
"Two days wrong!" sighed the Hatter. "I told you butter would not suit
the works!" he added, looking angrily at the March Hare.
"It was the best butter," the March Hare meekly replied.
"Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well," the Hatter grumbled:
"you shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife."

The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he
dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of
nothing better to say than his first remark, "It was the best butter, you
know."
Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. "What a
funny watch!" she remarked. "It tells the day of the month, and doesn't tell
what o'clock it is!"
"Why should it?" muttered the Hatter. "Does your watch tell you what
year it is?"
"Of course not," Alice replied very readily: "but that's because it stays
the same year for such a long time together."
"Which is just the case with mine," said the Hatter.
Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter's remark seemed to have no
meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. "I don't quite understand,"
she said, as politely as she could.
"The Dormouse is asleep again," said the Hatter, and he poured a little
hot tea upon its nose.
The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its
eyes, "Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself."
"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice
again.
"No, I give it up," Alice replied: "what's the answer?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter.
"Nor I," said the March Hare.
Alice sighed wearily. "I think you might do something better with the
time," she said, "than wasting it asking riddles with no answers."
"If you knew Time as well as I do," said the Hatter, "you wouldn't talk
about wasting it. It's him."

"I don't know what you mean," said Alice.
"Of course you don't!" the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously.
"I daresay you never spoke to Time!"
"Perhaps not," Alice cautiously replied: "but I know I have to beat time
when I learn music."
"Ah! that accounts for it," said the Hatter. "He won't stand beating. Now,
if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anything you liked
with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o'clock in the morning,
just time to begin lessons: you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and
round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!"
("I only wish it was," the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.)
"That would be grand, certainly," said Alice thoughtfully: "but then—I
shouldn't be hungry for it, you know."
"Not at first, perhaps," said the Hatter: "but you could keep it to half-past
one as long as you liked."
"Is that the way you manage?" Alice asked.
The Hatter shook his head mournfully. "Not I!" he replied. "We
quarrelled last March——just before he went mad, you know——"
(pointing with his teaspoon to the March Hare), "it was at the great concert
given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing
'Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!'
You know that song, perhaps?"
"I've heard something like it," said Alice.
"It goes on, you know," the Hatter continued, "in this way:—
'Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea-tray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle——'"

Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep "Twinkle,
twinkle, twinkle, twinkle——" and went on so long that they had to pinch it
to make it stop.
"Well, I'd hardly finished the first verse," said the Hatter, "when the
Queen jumped up and bawled out 'He's murdering the time! Off with his
head!'"
"How dreadfully savage!" exclaimed Alice.
"And ever since that," the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, "he won't
do a thing I ask! It's always six o'clock now."
A bright idea came into Alice's head. "Is that the reason so many tea-
things are put out here?" she asked.
"Yes, that's it," said the Hatter with a sigh: "it's always tea-time, and
we've no time to wash the things between whiles."
"Then you keep moving round, I suppose?" said Alice.
"Exactly so," said the Hatter: "as the things get used up."
"But what happens when you come to the beginning again?" Alice
ventured to ask.
"Suppose we change the subject," the March Hare interrupted, yawning.
"I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story."
"I'm afraid I don't know one," said Alice, rather alarmed at the proposal.
"Then the Dormouse shall!" they both cried. "Wake up, Dormouse!" And
they pinched it on both sides at once.
The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. "I wasn't asleep," he said in a
hoarse, feeble voice: "I heard every word you fellows were saying."
"Tell us a story!" said the March Hare.
"Yes, please do!" pleaded Alice.

"And be quick about it," added the Hatter, "or you'll be asleep again
before it's done."
"Once upon a time there were three little sisters," the Dormouse began in
a great hurry; "and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived
at the bottom of a well——"
"What did they live on?" said Alice, who always took a great interest in
questions of eating and drinking.
"They lived on treacle," said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or
two.
"They couldn't have done that, you know," Alice gently remarked;
"they'd have been ill."
"So they were," said the Dormouse; "very ill."
Alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way of
living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: "But why
did they live at the bottom of a well?"
"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't take
more."
"You mean you can't take less," said the Hatter; "it's very easy to take
more than nothing."
"Nobody asked your opinion," said Alice.
"Who's making personal remarks now?" the Hatter asked triumphantly.
Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to
some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and
repeated her question. "Why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then
said, "It was a treacle-well."

"There's no such thing!" Alice was beginning very angrily, but the Hatter
and the March Hare went "Sh! sh!" and the Dormouse sulkily remarked: "If
you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for yourself."
"No, please go on!" Alice said very humbly. "I won't interrupt you again.
I dare say there may be one."
"One, indeed!" said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented
to go on. "And so these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, you
know——"
"What did they draw?" said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.
"Treacle," said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.
"I want a clean cup," interrupted the Hatter: "let's all move one place
on."
He moved as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare
moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the
place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any
advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than
before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate.
Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very
cautiously: "But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle from?"
"You can draw water out of a water-well," said the Hatter; "so I should
think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well—eh, stupid!"
"But they were in the well," Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing to
notice this last remark.
"Of course they were," said the Dormouse; "——well in."
This answer so confused poor Alice that she let the Dormouse go on for
some time without interrupting it.
"They were learning to draw," the Dormouse went on, yawning and
rubbing its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; "and they drew all manner
of things—everything that begins with an M——"

"Why with an M?" said Alice.
"Why not?" said the March Hare.
Alice was silent.
The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a
dose; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a little
shriek, and went on: "—— that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and
the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say things are 'much
of a muchness'—did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a
muchness?"
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think
——"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.
This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in
great disgust and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither
of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once
or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw
them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.
"At any rate I'll never go there again!" said Alice as she picked her way
through the wood. "It's the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!"
Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door leading
right into it. "That's very curious!" she thought. "But everything's curious
to-day. I think I may as well go in at once." And in she went.
Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little glass
table. "Now I'll manage better this time," she said to herself, and began by
taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that led into the garden.
Then she set to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had kept a piece of it in
her pocket) till she was about a foot high: then she walked down the little
passage: and then—she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among
the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.

CHAPTER VIII
LARGE rose-tree stood near the entrance of
the garden: the roses growing on it were white, The Queen's
Croquet-Ground
but there were three gardeners at it, busily
painting them red. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she
went nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one
of them say "Look out now, Five! Don't go splashing paint over me like
that!"
"I couldn't help it," said Five, in a sulky tone. "Seven jogged my elbow."
On which Seven looked up and said, "That's right, Five! Always lay the
blame on others!"
"You'd better not talk!" said Five. "I heard the Queen say only yesterday
you deserved to be beheaded!"
"What for?" said the one who had first spoken.
"That's none of your business, Two!" said Seven.
"Yes, it is his business!" said Five. "And I'll tell him—it was for bringing
the cook tulip-roots instead of onions."
Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun "Well, of all the unjust
things——" when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching
them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and
all of them bowed low.
"Would you tell me," said Alice, a little timidly, "why you are painting
those roses?"
Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low
voice, "Why, the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red
rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to
find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see,
Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to——" At this moment, Five,
who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out "The Queen!
The Queen!" and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon

their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked round,
eager to see the Queen.
First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the
three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners:
next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds, and
walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came the royal
children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came jumping merrily
along hand in hand, in couples; they were all ornamented with hearts. Next
came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice
recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried, nervous manner,
smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her. Then
followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King's crown on a crimson
velvet cushion; and last of all this grand procession, came THE KING AND
QUEEN OF HEARTS.
Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face
like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard of
such a rule at processions; "and besides, what would be the use of a
procession," thought she, "if people had to lie down upon their faces, so that
they couldn't see it?" So she stood still where she was, and waited.
When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked
at her, and the Queen said severely, "Who is this?" She said it to the Knave
of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply.
"Idiot!" said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and turning to
Alice, she went on, "What's your name, child?"
"My name is Alice, so please your Majesty," said Alice very politely; but
she added, to herself, "Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all. I needn't
be afraid of them!"
"And who are these?" said the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners
who were lying round the rose-tree; for, you see, as they were lying on their
faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the pack,
she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or
three of her own children.

"How should I know?" said Alice, surprised at her own courage. "It's no
business of mine."
The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a
moment like a wild beast, screamed "Off with her head! Off——"
"Nonsense!" said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was
silent.
The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said "Consider my
dear: she is only a child!"
The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave "Turn
them over!"
The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot.
"Get up!" said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three gardeners
instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the Queen, the royal
children, and everybody else.
"Leave off that!" screamed the Queen. "You make me giddy." And then,
turning to the rose-tree, she went on, "What have you been doing here?"
"May it please your Majesty," said Two, in a very humble tone, going
down on one knee as he spoke, "we were trying——"

The Queen turned angrily
away from him and said to
the Knave, "Turn them over"

"I see!" said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses.
"Off with their heads!" and the procession moved on, three of the soldiers
remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran to Alice for
protection.
"You shan't be beheaded!" said Alice, and she put them into a large
flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a minute
or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others.
"Are their heads off?" shouted the Queen.
"Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!" the soldiers shouted in
reply.
"That's right!" shouted the Queen. "Can you play croquet?"

The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was
evidently meant for her.
"Yes!" shouted Alice.
"Come on, then!" roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession,
wondering very much what would happen next.
"It's—it's a very fine day!" said a timid voice at her side. She was
walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face.
"Very," said Alice: "——where's the Duchess?"
"Hush! Hush!" said the Rabbit in a low hurried tone. He looked
anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon
tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered "She's under sentence
of execution."
"What for?" said Alice.
"Did you say 'What a pity!'?" the Rabbit asked.
"No, I didn't," said Alice: "I don't think it's at all a pity. I said 'What
for?'"
"She boxed the Queen's ears—" the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little
scream of laughter. "Oh, hush!" the Rabbit whispered in a frightened tone.
"The Queen will hear you! You see she came rather late, and the Queen said
——"
"Get to your places!" shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and
people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each
other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game
began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in
all her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the
mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to
stand upon their hands and feet, to make the arches.
The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo;
she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under
her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its

neck nicely straightened out, and was
going to give the hedgehog a blow
with its head, it would twist itself
round and look up in her face, with
such a puzzled expression that she
could not help bursting out laughing:
and when she had got its head down,
and was going to begin again, it was
very provoking to find that the
hedgehog had unrolled itself and was
in the act of crawling away: besides
all this, there was generally a ridge or
a furrow in the way wherever she
wanted to send the hedgehog to, and,
as the doubled-up soldiers were
always getting up and walking off to
other parts of the ground, Alice soon
came to the conclusion that it was a
very difficult game indeed.
The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all
the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the
Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and shouting
"Off with his head!" or "Off with her head!" about once in a minute.
Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure she had not as yet had any
dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, "and
then," thought she, "what would become of me? They're dreadfully fond of
beheading people here: the great wonder is that there's any one left alive!"
She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether
she could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious
appearance in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it
a minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself "It's the
Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to talk to."
"How are you getting on?" said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth
enough for it to speak with.

Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. "It's no use
speaking to it," she thought, "till its ears have come, or at least one of
them." In another minute the whole head appeared, and then Alice put down
her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad she had
some one to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think that there was enough of
it now in sight, and no more of it appeared.
"I don't think they play at all fairly," Alice began, in rather a complaining
tone, "and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can't hear oneself speak—and
they don't seem to have any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody
attends to them—and you've no idea how confusing it is all the things being
alive; for instance, there's the arch I've got to go through next walking about
at the other end of the ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen's
hedgehog just now, only it ran away when it saw mine coming!"

"How do you like the Queen?" said the Cat in a low voice.
"Not at all," said Alice: "she's so extremely——" Just then she noticed
that the Queen was close behind her listening: so she went on, "——likely
to win, that it's hardly worth while finishing the game."
The Queen smiled and passed on.
"Who are you talking to?" said the King, coming up to Alice, and
looking at the Cat's head with great curiosity.
"It's a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat," said Alice: "allow me to
introduce it."
"I don't like the look of it at all," said the King: "however, it may kiss my
hand if it likes."

"I'd rather not," the Cat remarked.
"Don't be impertinent," said the King, "and don't look at me like that!"
He got behind Alice as he spoke.
"A cat may look at a king," said Alice. "I've read that in some book, but I
don't remember where."
"Well, it must be removed," said the King very decidedly, and he called
to the Queen, who was passing at the moment, "My dear! I wish you would
have this cat removed!"
The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small.
"Off with his head!" she said, without even looking round.
"I'll fetch the executioner myself," said the King eagerly, and he hurried
off.
Alice thought she might as well go back and see how the game was
going on, as she heard the Queen's voice in the distance, screaming with
passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be
executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of
things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew
whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog.
The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which
seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with
the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the
other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of
way to fly up into one of the trees.
By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight
was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: "but it doesn't matter
much," thought Alice, "as all the arches are gone from this side of the
ground." So she tucked it under her arm, that it might not escape again, and
went back for a little more conversation with her friend.
When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a
large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the

executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, while
all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable.
The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle
the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all
spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they
said.
The executioner's argument was, that
you couldn't cut off a head unless there
was a body to cut it off from: that he
had never had to do such a thing before,
and he wasn't going to begin at his time
of life.
The King's argument was, that
anything that had a head could be
beheaded, and that you weren't to talk
nonsense.
The Queen's argument was, that if
something wasn't done about it in less
than no time, she'd have everybody executed all round. (It was this last
remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious.)
Alice could think of nothing else to say but "It belongs to the Duchess:
you'd better ask her about it."
"She's in prison," the Queen said to the executioner; "fetch her here."
And the executioner went off like an arrow.
The Cat's head began fading away the moment he was gone, and by the
time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely disappeared; so the
King and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, while the
rest of the party went back to the game.

CHAPTER IX
OU can't think how glad I am to see you
again, you dear old thing!" said the Duchess, The Mock Turtle's
Story
as she tucked her arm affectionately into
Alice's, and they walked off together.
Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought to
herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so savage
when they met in the kitchen.
"When I'm a Duchess," she said to herself (not in a very hopeful tone
though), "I won't have any pepper in my kitchen at all. Soup does very well
without—Maybe it's always pepper that makes people hot-tempered," she
went on, very much pleased at having found out a new kind of rule, "and
vinegar that makes them sour—and camomile that makes them bitter—and
—barley-sugar and such things that make children sweet-tempered. I only
wish people knew that: then they wouldn't be so stingy about it, you know
——"
She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little startled
when she heard her voice close to her ear. "You're thinking about
something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can't tell you just
now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in a bit."
"Perhaps it hasn't one," Alice ventured to remark.
"Tut, tut, child!" said the Duchess. "Every thing's got a moral, if only
you can find it." And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice's side as she
spoke.
Alice did not much like her keeping so close to her: first, because the
Duchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right
height to rest her chin on Alice's shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably
sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she bore it as well as
she could. "The game's going on rather better now," she said, by way of
keeping up the conversation a little.

"'Tis so," said the Duchess: "and the moral of that is—'Oh, 'tis love, 'tis
love, that makes the world go round!'"
"Somebody said," Alice whispered, "that it's done by everybody minding
their own business!"
"Ah, well! It means much the same thing," said the Duchess, digging her
sharp little chin into Alice's shoulder as she added, "and the moral of that is
—'Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.'"
"How fond she is of finding morals in things!" Alice thought to herself.
"I dare say you're wondering why I don't put my arm round your waist,"
the Duchess said after a pause: "the reason is, that I'm doubtful about the
temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?"
"He might bite," Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to
have the experiment tried.
"Very true," said the Duchess: "flamingoes and mustard both bite. And
the moral of that is—'Birds of a feather flock together.'"
"Only mustard isn't a bird," Alice remarked.
"Right, as usual," said the Duchess: "what a clear way you have of
putting things!"
"It's a mineral, I think," said Alice.
"Of course it is," said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to
everything that Alice said: "there's a large mustard-mine near here. And the
moral of that is—'The more there is of mine, the less there is of yours.'"
"Oh, I know!" exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last remark.
"It's a vegetable. It doesn't look like one, but it is."
"I quite agree with you," said the Duchess; "and the moral of that is
—'Be what you would seem to be'—or if you'd like it put more simply
—'Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to
others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what
you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.'"

"I think I should understand that better," Alice said very politely, "if I
had it written down: but I can't quite follow it as you say it."
"That's nothing to what I could say if I chose," the Duchess replied, in a
pleased tone.
"Pray don't trouble yourself to say it any longer than that," said Alice.
"Oh, don't talk about trouble!" said the Duchess. "I make you a present
of everything I've said as yet."
"A cheap sort of present!" thought Alice. "I'm glad they don't give
birthday presents like that!" But she did not venture to say it out loud.
"Thinking again?" the Duchess asked with another dig of her sharp little
chin.
"I've a right to think," said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to feel a
little worried.
"Just about as much right," said the Duchess, "as pigs have to fly; and
the m——"
But here, to Alice's great surprise, the Duchess's voice died away, even
in the middle of her favourite word "moral," and the arm that was linked
into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen in
front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm.
"A fine day, your Majesty!" the Duchess began in a low, weak voice.
"Now, I give you fair warning," shouted the Queen, stamping on the
ground as she spoke; "either you or your head must be off, and that in about
half no time! Take your choice!"
The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment.
"Let's go on with the game," the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was too
much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the croquet-
ground.
The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen's absence, and were
resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back

to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment's delay would cost
them their lives.

The Queen never left off
quarrelling with the other
players, and shouting "Off
with his head!" or, "Off with
her head!"

All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling with
the other players, and shouting "Off with his head!" or "Off with her head!"
Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, who of
course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by the end of half an
hour or so there were no arches left, and all the players, except the King, the
Queen, and Alice, were in custody and under sentence of execution.
Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, "Have you
seen the Mock Turtle yet?"
"No," said Alice. "I don't even know what a Mock Turtle is."

"It's the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from," said the Queen.
"I never saw one, or heard of one," said Alice.
"Come on then," said the Queen, "and he shall tell you his history."
As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, to
the company generally, "You are all pardoned." "Come, that's a good
thing!" she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the number of
executions the Queen had ordered.
They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (If
you don't know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) "Up, lazy thing!"
said the Queen, "and take this young lady to see the Mock Turtle, and to
hear his history. I must go back and see after some executions I have
ordered," and she walked off, leaving Alice alone with the Gryphon. Alice
did not quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it
would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go after that savage Queen: so
she waited.
The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till
she was out of sight: then it chuckled. "What fun!" said the Gryphon, half to
itself, half to Alice.
"What is the fun?" said Alice.
"Why, she," said the Gryphon. "It's all her fancy, that: they never
executes nobody, you know. Come on!"
"Everybody says 'come on!' here," thought Alice, as she went slowly
after it: "I never was so ordered about in my life, never!"
They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance,
sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer,
Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She pitied him
deeply. "What is his sorrow?" she asked the Gryphon, and the Gryphon
answered, very nearly in the same words as before, "It's all his fancy, that:
he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. Come on!"
So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes
full of tears, but said nothing.

"This here young lady," said
the Gryphon, "she wants to
know your history, she do."
"I'll tell it her," said the
Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow
tone; "sit down, both of you,
and don't speak a word till I've
finished."
So they sat down, and
nobody spoke for some
minutes. Alice thought to
herself, "I don't see how he can
ever finish, if he doesn't begin."
But she waited patiently.
"Once," said the Mock
Turtle at last, with a deep sigh,
"I was a real Turtle."
These words were followed
by a very long silence, broken
only by an occasional
exclamation of "Hjckrrh!" from the Gryphon, and the constant heavy
sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and saying
"Thank you, sir, for your interesting story," but she could not help thinking
there must be more to come, so she sat still and said nothing.
"When we were little," the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly,
though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in the sea.
The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise——"
"Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?" Alice asked.
"We called him Tortoise because he taught us," said the Mock Turtle
angrily: "really you are very dull!"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple
question," added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at

poor Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said to
the Mock Turtle, "Drive on, old fellow. Don't be all day about it!" and he
went on in these words:
"Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn't believe it——"
"I never said I didn't!" interrupted Alice.
"You did," said the Mock Turtle.
"Hold your tongue!" added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again.
The Mock Turtle went on:—
"We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day
——"
"I've been to a day-school, too," said Alice; "you needn't be so proud as
all that."
"With extras?" asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously.
"Yes," said Alice, "we learned French and music."
"And washing?" said the Mock Turtle.
"Certainly not!" said Alice indignantly.
"Ah! then yours wasn't a really good school," said the Mock Turtle in a
tone of relief. "Now at ours they had at the end of the bill, 'French, music,
and washing—extra.'"
"You couldn't have wanted it much," said Alice; "living at the bottom of
the sea."
"I couldn't afford to learn it," said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. "I only
took the regular course."
"What was that?" inquired Alice.
"Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with," the Mock Turtle
replied; "and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition,
Distraction, Uglification, and Derision."

"I never heard of 'Uglification,'" Alice ventured to say. "What is it?"
The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. "Never heard of
uglifying!" it exclaimed. "You know what to beautify is, I suppose?"
"Yes," said Alice doubtfully: "it means—to—make—anything—
prettier."
"Well, then," the Gryphon went on, "if you don't know what to uglify is,
you are a simpleton."
Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she
turned to the Mock Turtle and said, "What else had you to learn?"
"Well, there was Mystery," the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the
subjects on his flappers, "—Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography:
then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, that used to
come once a week: he taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in
Coils."
"What was that like?" said Alice.
"Well, I can't show it you myself," the Mock Turtle said: "I'm too stiff.
And the Gryphon never learnt it."
"Hadn't time," said the Gryphon: "I went to the Classical master, though.
He was an old crab, he was."
"I never went to him," the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: "he taught
Laughing and Grief, they used to say."
"So he did, so he did," said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both
creatures hid their faces in their paws.
"And how many hours a day did you do lessons?" said Alice, in a hurry
to change the subject.
"Ten hours the first day," said the Mock Turtle: "nine the next, and so
on."
"What a curious plan!" exclaimed Alice.

"That's the reason they're called lessons," the Gryphon remarked:
"because they lessen from day to day."
This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought over it a little before
she made her next remark. "Then the eleventh day must have been a
holiday."
"Of course it was," said the Mock Turtle.
"And how did you manage on the twelfth?" Alice went on eagerly.
"That's enough about lessons," the Gryphon interrupted in a very
decided tone: "tell her something about the games now."

CHAPTER X
HE Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the
back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked The Lobster
Quadrille
at Alice, and tried to speak, but, for a minute or
two, sobs choked his voice. "Same as if he had a bone in his
throat," said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him
in the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears
running down his cheeks, went on again:
"You may not have lived much under the sea—" ("I haven't," said Alice)
"and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—" (Alice began
to say "I once tasted——" but checked herself hastily, and said "No, never,)
"—so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a Lobster Quadrille is!"
"No, indeed," said Alice. "What sort of a dance is it?"
"Why," said the Gryphon, "you first form into a line along the sea-shore
——"
"Two lines!" cried the Mock Turtle. "Seals, turtles, and so on; then, when
you've cleared the jelly-fish out of the way——"
"That generally takes some time," interrupted the Gryphon.
"—you advance twice——"
"Each with a lobster as a partner!" cried the Gryphon.
"Of course," the Mock Turtle said: "advance twice, set to partners——"
"—change lobsters, and retire in same order," continued the Gryphon.
"Then, you know," the Mock Turtle went on, "you throw the——"
"The lobsters!" shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air.
"—as far out to sea as you can——"
"Swim, after them!" screamed the Gryphon.

"Turn a somersault in the sea!" cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly
about.
"Change lobsters again!" yelled the Gryphon.
"Back to land again, and—that's all the first figure," said the Mock
Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been
jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and
quietly, and looked at Alice.
"It must be a very pretty dance," said Alice, timidly.
"Would you like to see a little of it?" said the Mock Turtle.
"Very much indeed," said Alice.
"Come, let's try the first figure!" said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon.
"We can do it without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?"
"Oh, you sing," said the Gryphon. "I've forgotten the words."
So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and
then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their
forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly
and sadly:—
"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail,
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on
my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join
the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join
the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you
join the dance?

"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be,
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters,
out to sea!"

But the snail replied: "Too far, too far!" and gave a look
askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not
join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not
join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not
join the dance.

"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend
replied;
"There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the
dance.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join
the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you
join the dance?"
"Thank you, it's a very interesting dance to watch," said Alice, feeling
very glad that it was over at last: "and I do so like that curious song about
the whiting!"
"Oh, as to the whiting," said the Mock Turtle, "they—you've seen them,
of course?"
"Yes," said Alice, "I've often seen them at dinn——" she checked herself
hastily.
"I don't know where Dinn may be," said the Mock Turtle, "but if you've
seen them so often, of course you know what they're like."
"I believe so," Alice replied thoughtfully. "They have their tails in their
mouths—and they're all over crumbs."
"You're wrong about the crumbs," said the Mock Turtle: "crumbs would
all wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their mouths; and the

reason is—" here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes. "Tell her about
the reason and all that," he said to the Gryphon.
"The reason is," said the Gryphon, "that they would go with the lobsters
to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way.
So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn't get them out
again. That's all."
"Thank you," said Alice. "It's very interesting. I never knew so much
about a whiting before."
"I can tell you more than that, if you like," said the Gryphon. "Do you
know why it's called a whiting?"
"I never thought about it," said Alice. "Why?"
"It does the boots and shoes," the Gryphon replied very solemnly.
Alice was thoroughly puzzled. "Does the boots and shoes!" she repeated
in a wondering tone.
"Why, what are your shoes done with?" said the Gryphon. "I mean, what
makes them so shiny?"
Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her
answer. "They're done with blacking, I believe."
"Boots and shoes under the sea," the Gryphon went on in a deep voice,
"are done with whiting. Now you know."
"And what are they made of?" Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.
"Soles and eels, of course," the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: "any
shrimp could have told you that."
"If I'd been the whiting," said Alice, whose thoughts were still running
on the song, "I'd have said to the porpoise, 'Keep back, please: we don't
want you with us!'"
"They were obliged to have him with them," the Mock Turtle said: "no
wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise."

"Wouldn't it really?" said Alice in a tone of great surprise.
"Of course not," said the Mock Turtle: "why, if a fish came to me, and
told me he was going a journey, I should say, 'With what porpoise?'"
"Don't you mean 'purpose'?" said Alice.
"I mean what I say," the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And
the Gryphon added, "Come, let's hear some of your adventures."

The Mock Turtle drew a
long breath and said,
"That's very curious"

"I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning," said
Alice a little timidly: "but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was
a different person then."
"Explain all that," said the Mock Turtle.

"No, no! The adventures first," said the Gryphon in an impatient tone:
"explanations take such a dreadful time."
So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first
saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, the two
creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and
mouths so very wide, but she gained courage as she went on. Her listeners
were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating "You are old,
Father William," to the Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and
then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and said, "That's very curious."
"It's all about as curious as it can be," said the Gryphon.
"It all came different!" the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. "I should
like to hear her repeat something now. Tell her to begin." He looked at the
Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over Alice.
"Stand up and repeat ''Tis the voice of the sluggard,'" said the Gryphon.
"How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!"
thought Alice. "I might as well be at school at once." However, she got up,
and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster Quadrille, that
she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer
indeed:—
"'Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him
declare,
'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar
my hair.'
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his
nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out
his toes.
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a
lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the
Shark:
But, when the tide rises and sharks are

around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound."
"That's different from what I used to say when I was a child," said the
Gryphon.
"Well, I never heard it before," said the Mock Turtle: "but it sounds
uncommon nonsense."
Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands,
wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again.
"I should like to have it explained," said the Mock Turtle.
"She ca'n't explain it," hastily said the Gryphon. "Go on with the next
verse."
"But about his toes?" the Mock Turtle persisted. "How could he turn
them out with his nose, you know?"
"It's the first position in dancing," Alice said; but was dreadfully puzzled
by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject.
"Go on with the next verse," the Gryphon repeated: "it begins 'I passed
by his garden.'"
Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come
wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:
"I passed by his garden, and marked, with
one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a
pie:
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and
meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the
treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a
boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
While the Panther received knife and fork

with a growl,
And concluded the banquet by——"
"What is the use of repeating all that stuff," the
Mock Turtle interrupted, "if you don't explain it as
you go on? It's by far the most confusing thing I
ever heard!"
"Yes, I think you'd better leave off," said the
Gryphon: and Alice was only too glad to do so.
"Shall we try another figure of the Lobster
Quadrille?" the Gryphon went on. "Or would you
like the Mock Turtle to sing you another song?"
"Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be
so kind," Alice replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon
said, in a rather offended tone, "H'm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her
'Turtle Soup,' will you, old fellow?"
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice choked with sobs,
to sing this:—
"Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!

"Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for two
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!

Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!"
"Chorus again!" cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun
to repeat it, when a cry of "The trial's beginning!" was heard in the distance.
"Come on!" cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried
off, without waiting for the end of the song.
"What trial is it?" Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only
answered "Come on!" and ran the faster, while more and more faintly came,
carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:—
"Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!"

CHAPTER XI
HE King and Queen of Hearts were seated on
their throne when they arrived, with a great Who Stole the
Tarts?
crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little
birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave
was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard
him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand,
and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a
table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made
Alice quite hungry to look at them—"I wish they'd get the trial done," she
thought, "and hand round the refreshments!" But there seemed to be no
chance of this, so she began looking about her, to pass away the time.
Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about
them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of
nearly everything there. "That's the judge," she said to herself, "because of
his great wig."
The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the
wig, he did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming.
"And that's the jury-box," thought Alice, "and those twelve creatures,"
(she was obliged to say "creatures," you see, because some of them were
animals, and some were birds,) "I suppose they are the jurors." She said this
last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of it: for she
thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her age knew the
meaning of it at all. However, "jurymen" would have done just as well.
The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. "What are they
all doing?" Alice whispered to the Gryphon. "They can't have anything to
put down yet, before the trial's begun."

Who stole the tarts?

"They're putting down their names," the Gryphon whispered in reply,
"for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial."
"Stupid things!" Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped
hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out "Silence in the court!" and the King
put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to see who was talking.
Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, that
all the jurors were writing down "stupid things!" on their slates, and she
could even make out that one of them didn't know how to spell "stupid,"
and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. "A nice muddle their slates
will be in before the trial's over!" thought Alice.
One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This, of course, Alice could
not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon

found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly that the poor
little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out at all what had
become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to write with
one finger for the rest of the day; and this was of very little use, as it left no
mark on the slate.
"Herald, read the accusation!" said the King.
On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then
unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:
"The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!"
"Consider your verdict," the King said to the jury.
"Not yet, not yet!" the Rabbit hastily interrupted. "There's a great deal to
come before that!"
"Call the first witness," said the King; and the Rabbit blew three blasts
on the trumpet, and called out "First witness!"
The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand
and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. "I beg pardon, your Majesty,"
he began, "for bringing these in; but I hadn't quite finished my tea when I
was sent for."
"You ought to have finished," said the King. "When did you begin?"
The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the
court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. "Fourteenth of March, I think it
was," he said.
"Fifteenth," said the March Hare.
"Sixteenth," said the Dormouse.
"Write that down," the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote
down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced

the answer to shillings and pence.
"Take off your hat," the King said to the Hatter.
"It isn't mine," said the Hatter.
"Stolen!" the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a
memorandum of the fact.
"I keep them to sell," the Hatter added as an explanation: "I've none of
my own. I'm a hatter."
Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring hard at the
Hatter, who turned pale and fidgeted.
"Give your evidence," said the King; "and don't be nervous, or I'll have
you executed on the spot."
This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from
one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion he
bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.
Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled
her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to grow
larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave the court;
but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as long as
there was room for her.
"I wish you wouldn't squeeze so," said the Dormouse, who was sitting
next to her. "I can hardly breathe."
"I can't help it," said Alice very meekly: "I'm growing."
"You've no right to grow here," said the Dormouse.
"Don't talk nonsense," said Alice more boldly: "you know you're
growing too."
"Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace," said the Dormouse; "not in that
ridiculous fashion." And he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the other
side of the court.

All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, just
as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of the
court, "Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!" on which the
wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook off both his shoes.
"Give your evidence," the King repeated angrily, "or I'll have you
executed, whether you're nervous or not."
"I'm a poor man, your Majesty," the Hatter began, in a trembling voice,
"—and I hadn't begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what with the
bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the tea——"
"The twinkling of what?" said the King.
"It began with the tea," the Hatter replied.
"Of course twinkling begins with a T!" said the King sharply. "Do you
take me for a dunce? Go on!"
"I'm a poor man," the Hatter went on, "and most things twinkled after
that—only the March Hare said——"
"I didn't!" the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry.
"You did!" said the Hatter.
"I deny it!" said the March Hare.
"He denies it," said the King: "leave out that part."
"Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said——" the Hatter went on, looking
anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied
nothing, being fast asleep.
"After that," continued the Hatter, "I cut some more bread-and-butter
——"
"But what did the Dormouse say?" one of the jury asked.
"That I can't remember," said the Hatter.
"You must remember," remarked the King, "or I'll have you executed."

The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went
down on one knee. "I'm a poor man, your Majesty," he began.
"You're a very poor speaker," said the King.
Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed
by the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just explain
to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied up at the
mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and
then sat upon it.)
"I'm glad I've seen that done," thought Alice. "I've so often read in the
newspapers, at the end of trials, 'There was some attempt at applause, which
was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court,' and I never
understood what it meant till now."
"If that's all you know about it, you may stand down," continued the
King.
"I can't go no lower," said the Hatter: "I'm on the floor, as it is."
"Then you may sit down," the King replied.
Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed.
"Come, that finishes the guinea-pigs!" thought Alice. "Now we shall get
on better."
"I'd rather finish my tea," said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the
Queen, who was reading the list of singers.
"You may go," said the King; and the Hatter hurriedly left the court,
without even waiting to put his shoes on.
"—and just take his head off outside," the Queen added to one of the
officers; but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to the
door.
"Call the next witness!" said the King.
The next witness was the Duchess's cook. She carried the pepper-box in
her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court,

by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once.
"Give your evidence," said the King.
"Sha'n't," said the cook.
The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice,
"Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness."
"Well, if I must, I must," the King said with a melancholy air, and, after
folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly out of
sight, he said in a deep voice, "What are tarts made of?"
"Pepper, mostly," said the cook.
"Treacle," said a sleepy voice behind her.
"Collar that Dormouse," the Queen shrieked out.
"Behead that Dormouse! Turn that Dormouse out of
court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his
whiskers."
For some minutes the whole court was in
confusion, getting the Dormouse turned out, and, by
the time they had settled down again, the cook had
disappeared.
"Never mind!" said the King, with an air of great
relief. "Call the next witness." And he added in an
undertone to the Queen, "Really, my dear, you must cross-examine the next
witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!"
Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very
curious to see what the next witness would be like, "—for they haven't got
much evidence yet," she said to herself. Imagine her surprise, when the
White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name "Alice!"

CHAPTER XII
ERE!" cried Alice, quite forgetting in the
flurry of the moment how large she had Alice's Evidence
grown in the last few minutes, and she
jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with
the edge of her skirt, upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd
below, and there they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a
globe of gold-fish she had accidentally upset the week before.
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and
began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of the
gold-fish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea that
they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or they would
die.
"The trial cannot proceed," said the King in a very grave voice, "until all
the jurymen are back in their proper places—all," he repeated with great
emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said so.
Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the
Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail
about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon got it out
again, and put it right; "not that it signifies much," she said to herself; "I
should think it would be quite as much use in the trial one way up as the
other."
As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset,
and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them, they
set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all except
the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit with its
mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court.
"What do you know about this business?" the King said to Alice.
"Nothing," said Alice.
"Nothing whatever?" persisted the King.
"Nothing whatever," said Alice.

"That's very important," the King said, turning to the jury. They were
just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit
interrupted: "Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course," he said in a
very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.
"Unimportant, of course, I meant," the King hastily said, and went on
himself in an undertone, "important—unimportant—unimportant—
important——" as if he were trying which word sounded best.
Some of the jury wrote it down "important," and some "unimportant."
Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; "but it
doesn't matter a bit," she thought to herself.
At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in
his note-book, called out "Silence!" and read out from his book, "Rule
Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court."
Everybody looked at Alice.
"I'm not a mile high," said Alice.
"You are," said the King.
"Nearly two miles high," added the Queen.
"Well, I sha'n't go, at any rate," said Alice: "besides, that's not a regular
rule: you invented it just now."
"It's the oldest rule in the book," said the King.
"Then it ought to be Number One," said Alice.
The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. "Consider your
verdict," he said to the jury, in a low trembling voice.
"There's more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty," said the
White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry: "this paper has just been picked
up."
"What's in it?" said the Queen.

"I haven't opened it yet," said the White Rabbit, "but it seems to be a
letter, written by the prisoner to—to somebody."
"It must have been that," said the King, "unless it was written to nobody,
which isn't usual, you know."
"Who is it directed to?" said one of the jurymen.
"It isn't directed at all," said the White Rabbit; "in fact, there's nothing
written on the outside." He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and added "It
isn't a letter after all: it's a set of verses."
"Are they in the prisoner's handwriting?" asked another of the jurymen.
"No, they're not," said the White Rabbit, "and that's the queerest thing
about it." (The jury all looked puzzled.)
"He must have imitated somebody else's hand," said the King. (The jury
all brightened up again.)
"Please your Majesty," said the Knave, "I didn't write it, and they can't
prove that I did: there's no name signed at the end."
"If you didn't sign it," said the King, "that only makes the matter worse.
You must have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your name
like an honest man."
There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really
clever thing the King had said that day.
"That proves his guilt, of course," said the Queen: "so, off with——"
"It doesn't prove anything of the sort!" said Alice. "Why, you don't even
know what they're about!"
"Read them," said the King.
The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. "Where shall I begin, please
your Majesty?" he asked.
"Begin at the beginning," the King said gravely, "and go on till you
come to the end; then stop."

There was dead silence in the court, whilst the White Rabbit read out
these verses:—
"They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.

He sent them word I had not gone,
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?

I gave her one, they gave him two,
You gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.

If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.

My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.

Don't let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me."
"That's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet," said the
King, rubbing his hands; "so now let the jury——"
"If any of them can explain it," said Alice, (she had grown so large in the
last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting him,) "I'll give

him sixpence. I don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it."
The jury all wrote down on their slates, "She doesn't believe there's an
atom of meaning in it," but none of them attempted to explain the paper.
"If there's no meaning in it," said the King, "that saves a world of
trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any. And yet I don't know," he
went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with one
eye; "I seem to see some meaning in them after all. '——said I could not
swim—' you can't swim can you?" he added, turning to the Knave.
The Knave shook his head sadly. "Do I look like it?" he said. (Which he
certainly did not, being made entirely of cardboard.)
"All right, so far," said the King, as he went on muttering over the verses
to himself: "'We know it to be true—' that's the jury, of course—'If she
should push the matter on'—that must be the Queen—'What would become
of you?'—What, indeed!—'I gave her one, they gave him two—' why, that
must be what he did with the tarts, you know——"
"But it goes on 'they all returned from him to you,'" said Alice.
"Why, there they are!" said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts
on the table. "Nothing can be clearer than that. Then again—'before she had
this fit—' you never had fits, my dear, I think?" he said to the Queen.
"Never!" said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as
she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his slate with
one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began again,
using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it lasted.)

At this the whole pack rose up
into the air, and came flying
down upon her

"Then the words don't fit you," said the King, looking round the court
with a smile. There was a dead silence.
"It's a pun!" the King added in an angry tone, and everybody laughed.
"Let the jury consider their verdict," the King said, for about the
twentieth time that day.
"No, no!" said the Queen. "Sentence first—verdict afterwards."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Alice loudly. "The idea of having the
sentence first!"
"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen, turning purple.
"I won't!" said Alice.

"Off with her head!" the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody
moved.
"Who cares for you?" said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this
time). "You're nothing but a pack of cards!"
At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon
her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to
beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap
of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had
fluttered down from the trees upon her face.
"Wake up, Alice dear!" said her sister. "Why, what a long sleep you've
had!"
"Oh, I've had such a curious dream!" said Alice, and she told her sister,
as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers
that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister
kissed her, and said "It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in
to your tea; it's getting late." So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she
ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been.

BUT her sister sat still just as she had left her, leaning her head, watching
the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful
Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her
dream:
First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands
were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into
hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little
toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into
her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place
around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister's
dream.
The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the
frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she

could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared
their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her
unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was sneezing on
the Duchess' knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once more
the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard's slate-pencil, and
the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the
distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle.
So she sat on with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland,
though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to
dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool
rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would change to
the tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen's shrill cries to the voice of the
shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and
all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused
clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the cattle in the
distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle's heavy sobs.
Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in
the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through
all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how
she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright
and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of
Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple
sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own
child-life, and the happy summer days.

THE END

ILLUSTRATIONS REPRODUCED BY HENTSCHEL COLOURTYPE
TEXT PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD
AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS
TAVISTOCK STREET
LONDON

Transcriber's Note:

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the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the
original text will appear.

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