"THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS\n\nBy Lewis Carroll\n\n\nThe Millennium Fulcrum Edition 1.7\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. Looking-Glass house\n\nOne thing was certain, that the WHITE kitten had had nothing to do with\nit:--it was the black kitten's fault entirely. For the white kitten had\nbeen having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of\nan hour (and bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it\nCOULDN'T have had any hand in the mischief.\n\nThe way Dinah washed her children's faces was this: first she held the\npoor thing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other paw she\nrubbed its face all over, the wrong way, beginning at the nose: and\njust now, as I said, she was hard at work on the white kitten, which was\nlying quite still and trying to purr--no doubt feeling that it was all\nmeant for its good.\n\nBut the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the afternoon,\nand so, while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner of the great\narm-chair, half talking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had been\nhaving a grand game of romps with the ball of worsted Alice had been\ntrying to wind up, and had been rolling it up and down till it had all\ncome undone again; and there it was, spread over the hearth-rug, all\nknots and tangles, with the kitten running after its own tail in the\nmiddle.\n\n'Oh, you wicked little thing!' cried Alice, catching up the kitten, and\ngiving it a little kiss to make it understand that it was in disgrace.\n'Really, Dinah ought to have taught you better manners! You OUGHT,\nDinah, you know you ought!' she added, looking reproachfully at the old\ncat, and speaking in as cross a voice as she could manage--and then she\nscrambled back into the arm-chair, taking the kitten and the worsted\nwith her, and began winding up the ball again. But she didn't get on\nvery fast, as she was talking all the time, sometimes to the kitten, and\nsometimes to herself. Kitty sat very demurely on her knee, pretending to\nwatch the progress of the winding, and now and then putting out one\npaw and gently touching the ball, as if it would be glad to help, if it\nmight.\n\n'Do you know what to-morrow is, Kitty?' Alice began. 'You'd have guessed\nif you'd been up in the window with me--only Dinah was making you tidy,\nso you couldn't. I was watching the boys getting in sticks for the\nbonfire--and it wants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so cold, and\nit snowed so, they had to leave off. Never mind, Kitty, we'll go and\nsee the bonfire to-morrow.' Here Alice wound two or three turns of the\nworsted round the kitten's neck, just to see how it would look: this led\nto a scramble, in which the ball rolled down upon the floor, and yards\nand yards of it got unwound again.\n\n'Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty,' Alice went on as soon as they were\ncomfortably settled again, 'when I saw all the mischief you had been\ndoing, I was very nearly opening the window, and putting you out into\nthe snow! And you'd have deserved it, you little mischievous darling!\nWhat have you got to say for yourself? Now don't interrupt me!' she\nwent on, holding up one finger. 'I'm going to tell you all your faults.\nNumber one: you squeaked twice while Dinah was washing your face this\nmorning. Now you can't deny it, Kitty: I heard you! What's that you\nsay?' (pretending that the kitten was speaking.) 'Her paw went into your\neye? Well, that's YOUR fault, for keeping your eyes open--if you'd\nshut them tight up, it wouldn't have happened. Now don't make any more\nexcuses, but listen! Number two: you pulled Snowdrop away by the tail\njust as I had put down the saucer of milk before her! What, you were\nthirsty, were you? How do you know she wasn't thirsty too? Now for\nnumber three: you unwound every bit of the worsted while I wasn't\nlooking!\n\n'That's three faults, Kitty, and you've not been punished for any of\nthem yet. You know I'm saving up all your punishments for Wednesday\nweek--Suppose they had saved up all MY punishments!' she went on,\ntalking more to herself than the kitten. 'What WOULD they do at the end\nof a year? I should be sent to prison, I suppose, when the day came.\nOr--let me see--suppose each punishment was to be going without a\ndinner: then, when the miserable day came, I should have to go without\nfifty dinners at once! Well, I shouldn't mind THAT much! I'd far rather\ngo without them than eat them!\n\n'Do you hear the snow against the window-panes, Kitty? How nice and soft\nit sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside.\nI wonder if the snow LOVES the trees and fields, that it kisses them so\ngently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt;\nand perhaps it says, \"Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes\nagain.\" And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress\nthemselves all in green, and dance about--whenever the wind blows--oh,\nthat's very pretty!' cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap\nher hands. 'And I do so WISH it was true! I'm sure the woods look sleepy\nin the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown.\n\n'Kitty, can you play chess? Now, don't smile, my dear, I'm asking it\nseriously. Because, when we were playing just now, you watched just as\nif you understood it: and when I said \"Check!\" you purred! Well, it WAS\na nice check, Kitty, and really I might have won, if it hadn't been for\nthat nasty Knight, that came wiggling down among my pieces. Kitty, dear,\nlet's pretend--' And here I wish I could tell you half the things Alice\nused to say, beginning with her favourite phrase 'Let's pretend.' She\nhad had quite a long argument with her sister only the day before--all\nbecause Alice had begun with 'Let's pretend we're kings and queens;' and\nher sister, who liked being very exact, had argued that they couldn't,\nbecause there were only two of them, and Alice had been reduced at last\nto say, 'Well, YOU can be one of them then, and I'LL be all the rest.'\nAnd once she had really frightened her old nurse by shouting suddenly in\nher ear, 'Nurse! Do let's pretend that I'm a hungry hyaena, and you're a\nbone.'\n\nBut this is taking us away from Alice's speech to the kitten. 'Let's\npretend that you're the Red Queen, Kitty! Do you know, I think if you\nsat up and folded your arms, you'd look exactly like her. Now do try,\nthere's a dear!' And Alice got the Red Queen off the table, and set it\nup before the kitten as a model for it to imitate: however, the thing\ndidn't succeed, principally, Alice said, because the kitten wouldn't\nfold its arms properly. So, to punish it, she held it up to the\nLooking-glass, that it might see how sulky it was--'and if you're not\ngood directly,' she added, 'I'll put you through into Looking-glass\nHouse. How would you like THAT?'\n\n'Now, if you'll only attend, Kitty, and not talk so much, I'll tell you\nall my ideas about Looking-glass House. First, there's the room you can\nsee through the glass--that's just the same as our drawing room, only\nthe things go the other way. I can see all of it when I get upon a\nchair--all but the bit behind the fireplace. Oh! I do so wish I could\nsee THAT bit! I want so much to know whether they've a fire in the\nwinter: you never CAN tell, you know, unless our fire smokes, and then\nsmoke comes up in that room too--but that may be only pretence, just to\nmake it look as if they had a fire. Well then, the books are something\nlike our books, only the words go the wrong way; I know that, because\nI've held up one of our books to the glass, and then they hold up one in\nthe other room.\n\n'How would you like to live in Looking-glass House, Kitty? I wonder if\nthey'd give you milk in there? Perhaps Looking-glass milk isn't good\nto drink--But oh, Kitty! now we come to the passage. You can just see a\nlittle PEEP of the passage in Looking-glass House, if you leave the door\nof our drawing-room wide open: and it's very like our passage as far\nas you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond.\nOh, Kitty! how nice it would be if we could only get through into\nLooking-glass House! I'm sure it's got, oh! such beautiful things in it!\nLet's pretend there's a way of getting through into it, somehow, Kitty.\nLet's pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we can get\nthrough. Why, it's turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It'll be\neasy enough to get through--' She was up on the chimney-piece while she\nsaid this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly\nthe glass WAS beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist.\n\nIn another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly\ndown into the Looking-glass room. The very first thing she did was\nto look whether there was a fire in the fireplace, and she was quite\npleased to find that there was a real one, blazing away as brightly as\nthe one she had left behind. 'So I shall be as warm here as I was in the\nold room,' thought Alice: 'warmer, in fact, because there'll be no one\nhere to scold me away from the fire. Oh, what fun it'll be, when they\nsee me through the glass in here, and can't get at me!'\n\nThen she began looking about, and noticed that what could be seen from\nthe old room was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest\nwas as different as possible. For instance, the pictures on the\nwall next the fire seemed to be all alive, and the very clock on\nthe chimney-piece (you know you can only see the back of it in the\nLooking-glass) had got the face of a little old man, and grinned at her.\n\n'They don't keep this room so tidy as the other,' Alice thought to\nherself, as she noticed several of the chessmen down in the hearth among\nthe cinders: but in another moment, with a little 'Oh!' of surprise, she\nwas down on her hands and knees watching them. The chessmen were walking\nabout, two and two!\n\n'Here are the Red King and the Red Queen,' Alice said (in a whisper, for\nfear of frightening them), 'and there are the White King and the White\nQueen sitting on the edge of the shovel--and here are two castles\nwalking arm in arm--I don't think they can hear me,' she went on, as she\nput her head closer down, 'and I'm nearly sure they can't see me. I feel\nsomehow as if I were invisible--'\n\nHere something began squeaking on the table behind Alice, and made her\nturn her head just in time to see one of the White Pawns roll over and\nbegin kicking: she watched it with great curiosity to see what would\nhappen next.\n\n'It is the voice of my child!' the White Queen cried out as she rushed\npast the King, so violently that she knocked him over among the cinders.\n'My precious Lily! My imperial kitten!' and she began scrambling wildly\nup the side of the fender.\n\n'Imperial fiddlestick!' said the King, rubbing his nose, which had been\nhurt by the fall. He had a right to be a LITTLE annoyed with the Queen,\nfor he was covered with ashes from head to foot.\n\nAlice was very anxious to be of use, and, as the poor little Lily was\nnearly screaming herself into a fit, she hastily picked up the Queen and\nset her on the table by the side of her noisy little daughter.\n\nThe Queen gasped, and sat down: the rapid journey through the air had\nquite taken away her breath and for a minute or two she could do nothing\nbut hug the little Lily in silence. As soon as she had recovered her\nbreath a little, she called out to the White King, who was sitting\nsulkily among the ashes, 'Mind the volcano!'\n\n'What volcano?' said the King, looking up anxiously into the fire, as if\nhe thought that was the most likely place to find one.\n\n'Blew--me--up,' panted the Queen, who was still a little out of breath.\n'Mind you come up--the regular way--don't get blown up!'\n\nAlice watched the White King as he slowly struggled up from bar to bar,\ntill at last she said, 'Why, you'll be hours and hours getting to the\ntable, at that rate. I'd far better help you, hadn't I?' But the King\ntook no notice of the question: it was quite clear that he could neither\nhear her nor see her.\n\nSo Alice picked him up very gently, and lifted him across more slowly\nthan she had lifted the Queen, that she mightn't take his breath away:\nbut, before she put him on the table, she thought she might as well dust\nhim a little, he was so covered with ashes.\n\nShe said afterwards that she had never seen in all her life such a face\nas the King made, when he found himself held in the air by an invisible\nhand, and being dusted: he was far too much astonished to cry out, but\nhis eyes and his mouth went on getting larger and larger, and rounder\nand rounder, till her hand shook so with laughing that she nearly let\nhim drop upon the floor.\n\n'Oh! PLEASE don't make such faces, my dear!' she cried out, quite\nforgetting that the King couldn't hear her. 'You make me laugh so that\nI can hardly hold you! And don't keep your mouth so wide open! All the\nashes will get into it--there, now I think you're tidy enough!' she\nadded, as she smoothed his hair, and set him upon the table near the\nQueen.\n\nThe King immediately fell flat on his back, and lay perfectly still: and\nAlice was a little alarmed at what she had done, and went round the room\nto see if she could find any water to throw over him. However, she could\nfind nothing but a bottle of ink, and when she got back with it she\nfound he had recovered, and he and the Queen were talking together in a\nfrightened whisper--so low, that Alice could hardly hear what they said.\n\nThe King was saying, 'I assure, you my dear, I turned cold to the very\nends of my whiskers!'\n\nTo which the Queen replied, 'You haven't got any whiskers.'\n\n'The horror of that moment,' the King went on, 'I shall never, NEVER\nforget!'\n\n'You will, though,' the Queen said, 'if you don't make a memorandum of\nit.'\n\nAlice looked on with great interest as the King took an enormous\nmemorandum-book out of his pocket, and began writing. A sudden thought\nstruck her, and she took hold of the end of the pencil, which came some\nway over his shoulder, and began writing for him.\n\nThe poor King looked puzzled and unhappy, and struggled with the pencil\nfor some time without saying anything; but Alice was too strong for him,\nand at last he panted out, 'My dear! I really MUST get a thinner pencil.\nI can't manage this one a bit; it writes all manner of things that I\ndon't intend--'\n\n'What manner of things?' said the Queen, looking over the book (in which\nAlice had put 'THE WHITE KNIGHT IS SLIDING DOWN THE POKER. HE BALANCES\nVERY BADLY') 'That's not a memorandum of YOUR feelings!'\n\nThere was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat\nwatching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him,\nand had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again),\nshe turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read,\n'--for it's all in some language I don't know,' she said to herself.\n\nIt was like this.\n\n\n             YKCOWREBBAJ\n\n     sevot yhtils eht dna,gillirb sawT'\n      ebaw eht ni elbmig dna eryg diD\n        ,sevogorob eht erew ysmim llA\n       .ebargtuo shtar emom eht dnA\n\n\nShe puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought struck\nher. 'Why, it's a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to\na glass, the words will all go the right way again.'\n\nThis was the poem that Alice read.\n\n\n             JABBERWOCKY\n\n     'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves\n      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;\n     All mimsy were the borogoves,\n      And the mome raths outgrabe.\n\n     'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!\n      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!\n     Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun\n      The frumious Bandersnatch!'\n\n     He took his vorpal sword in hand:\n      Long time the manxome foe he sought--\n     So rested he by the Tumtum tree,\n      And stood awhile in thought.\n\n     And as in uffish thought he stood,\n      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,\n     Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,\n      And burbled as it came!\n\n     One, two! One, two! And through and through\n      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!\n     He left it dead, and with its head\n      He went galumphing back.\n\n     'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?\n      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!\n     O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'\n      He chortled in his joy.\n\n     'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves\n      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;\n     All mimsy were the borogoves,\n      And the mome raths outgrabe.\n\n\n'It seems very pretty,' she said when she had finished it, 'but it's\nRATHER hard to understand!' (You see she didn't like to confess, even\nto herself, that she couldn't make it out at all.) 'Somehow it seems\nto fill my head with ideas--only I don't exactly know what they are!\nHowever, SOMEBODY killed SOMETHING: that's clear, at any rate--'\n\n'But oh!' thought Alice, suddenly jumping up, 'if I don't make haste I\nshall have to go back through the Looking-glass, before I've seen what\nthe rest of the house is like! Let's have a look at the garden first!'\nShe was out of the room in a moment, and ran down stairs--or, at least,\nit wasn't exactly running, but a new invention of hers for getting down\nstairs quickly and easily, as Alice said to herself. She just kept the\ntips of her fingers on the hand-rail, and floated gently down without\neven touching the stairs with her feet; then she floated on through the\nhall, and would have gone straight out at the door in the same way, if\nshe hadn't caught hold of the door-post. She was getting a little giddy\nwith so much floating in the air, and was rather glad to find herself\nwalking again in the natural way.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. The Garden of Live Flowers\n\n'I should see the garden far better,' said Alice to herself, 'if I could\nget to the top of that hill: and here's a path that leads straight to\nit--at least, no, it doesn't do that--' (after going a few yards along\nthe path, and turning several sharp corners), 'but I suppose it will\nat last. But how curiously it twists! It's more like a corkscrew than a\npath! Well, THIS turn goes to the hill, I suppose--no, it doesn't! This\ngoes straight back to the house! Well then, I'll try it the other way.'\n\nAnd so she did: wandering up and down, and trying turn after turn, but\nalways coming back to the house, do what she would. Indeed, once, when\nshe turned a corner rather more quickly than usual, she ran against it\nbefore she could stop herself.\n\n'It's no use talking about it,' Alice said, looking up at the house and\npretending it was arguing with her. 'I'm NOT going in again yet. I know\nI should have to get through the Looking-glass again--back into the old\nroom--and there'd be an end of all my adventures!'\n\nSo, resolutely turning her back upon the house, she set out once more\ndown the path, determined to keep straight on till she got to the hill.\nFor a few minutes all went on well, and she was just saying, 'I really\nSHALL do it this time--' when the path gave a sudden twist and shook\nitself (as she described it afterwards), and the next moment she found\nherself actually walking in at the door.\n\n'Oh, it's too bad!' she cried. 'I never saw such a house for getting in\nthe way! Never!'\n\nHowever, there was the hill full in sight, so there was nothing to be\ndone but start again. This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with a\nborder of daisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle.\n\n'O Tiger-lily,' said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving\ngracefully about in the wind, 'I WISH you could talk!'\n\n'We CAN talk,' said the Tiger-lily: 'when there's anybody worth talking\nto.'\n\nAlice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite\nseemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went\non waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voice--almost in a whisper.\n'And can ALL the flowers talk?'\n\n'As well as YOU can,' said the Tiger-lily. 'And a great deal louder.'\n\n'It isn't manners for us to begin, you know,' said the Rose, 'and I\nreally was wondering when you'd speak! Said I to myself, \"Her face has\ngot SOME sense in it, though it's not a clever one!\" Still, you're the\nright colour, and that goes a long way.'\n\n'I don't care about the colour,' the Tiger-lily remarked. 'If only her\npetals curled up a little more, she'd be all right.'\n\nAlice didn't like being criticised, so she began asking questions.\n'Aren't you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody\nto take care of you?'\n\n'There's the tree in the middle,' said the Rose: 'what else is it good\nfor?'\n\n'But what could it do, if any danger came?' Alice asked.\n\n'It says \"Bough-wough!\"' cried a Daisy: 'that's why its branches are\ncalled boughs!'\n\n'Didn't you know THAT?' cried another Daisy, and here they all began\nshouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill\nvoices. 'Silence, every one of you!' cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself\npassionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. 'They\nknow I can't get at them!' it panted, bending its quivering head towards\nAlice, 'or they wouldn't dare to do it!'\n\n'Never mind!' Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the\ndaisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, 'If you don't\nhold your tongues, I'll pick you!'\n\nThere was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned\nwhite.\n\n'That's right!' said the Tiger-lily. 'The daisies are worst of all. When\none speaks, they all begin together, and it's enough to make one wither\nto hear the way they go on!'\n\n'How is it you can all talk so nicely?' Alice said, hoping to get it\ninto a better temper by a compliment. 'I've been in many gardens before,\nbut none of the flowers could talk.'\n\n'Put your hand down, and feel the ground,' said the Tiger-lily. 'Then\nyou'll know why.'\n\nAlice did so. 'It's very hard,' she said, 'but I don't see what that has\nto do with it.'\n\n'In most gardens,' the Tiger-lily said, 'they make the beds too soft--so\nthat the flowers are always asleep.'\n\nThis sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it.\n'I never thought of that before!' she said.\n\n'It's MY opinion that you never think AT ALL,' the Rose said in a rather\nsevere tone.\n\n'I never saw anybody that looked stupider,' a Violet said, so suddenly,\nthat Alice quite jumped; for it hadn't spoken before.\n\n'Hold YOUR tongue!' cried the Tiger-lily. 'As if YOU ever saw anybody!\nYou keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there, till you know\nno more what's going on in the world, than if you were a bud!'\n\n'Are there any more people in the garden besides me?' Alice said, not\nchoosing to notice the Rose's last remark.\n\n'There's one other flower in the garden that can move about like you,'\nsaid the Rose. 'I wonder how you do it--' ('You're always wondering,'\nsaid the Tiger-lily), 'but she's more bushy than you are.'\n\n'Is she like me?' Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her mind,\n'There's another little girl in the garden, somewhere!'\n\n'Well, she has the same awkward shape as you,' the Rose said, 'but she's\nredder--and her petals are shorter, I think.'\n\n'Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,' the Tiger-lily\ninterrupted: 'not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.'\n\n'But that's not YOUR fault,' the Rose added kindly: 'you're beginning\nto fade, you know--and then one can't help one's petals getting a little\nuntidy.'\n\nAlice didn't like this idea at all: so, to change the subject, she asked\n'Does she ever come out here?'\n\n'I daresay you'll see her soon,' said the Rose. 'She's one of the thorny\nkind.'\n\n'Where does she wear the thorns?' Alice asked with some curiosity.\n\n'Why all round her head, of course,' the Rose replied. 'I was wondering\nYOU hadn't got some too. I thought it was the regular rule.'\n\n'She's coming!' cried the Larkspur. 'I hear her footstep, thump, thump,\nthump, along the gravel-walk!'\n\nAlice looked round eagerly, and found that it was the Red Queen. 'She's\ngrown a good deal!' was her first remark. She had indeed: when Alice\nfirst found her in the ashes, she had been only three inches high--and\nhere she was, half a head taller than Alice herself!\n\n'It's the fresh air that does it,' said the Rose: 'wonderfully fine air\nit is, out here.'\n\n'I think I'll go and meet her,' said Alice, for, though the flowers were\ninteresting enough, she felt that it would be far grander to have a talk\nwith a real Queen.\n\n'You can't possibly do that,' said the Rose: '_I_ should advise you to\nwalk the other way.'\n\nThis sounded nonsense to Alice, so she said nothing, but set off at\nonce towards the Red Queen. To her surprise, she lost sight of her in a\nmoment, and found herself walking in at the front-door again.\n\nA little provoked, she drew back, and after looking everywhere for the\nqueen (whom she spied out at last, a long way off), she thought she\nwould try the plan, this time, of walking in the opposite direction.\n\nIt succeeded beautifully. She had not been walking a minute before she\nfound herself face to face with the Red Queen, and full in sight of the\nhill she had been so long aiming at.\n\n'Where do you come from?' said the Red Queen. 'And where are you going?\nLook up, speak nicely, and don't twiddle your fingers all the time.'\n\nAlice attended to all these directions, and explained, as well as she\ncould, that she had lost her way.\n\n'I don't know what you mean by YOUR way,' said the Queen: 'all the ways\nabout here belong to ME--but why did you come out here at all?' she\nadded in a kinder tone. 'Curtsey while you're thinking what to say, it\nsaves time.'\n\nAlice wondered a little at this, but she was too much in awe of the\nQueen to disbelieve it. 'I'll try it when I go home,' she thought to\nherself, 'the next time I'm a little late for dinner.'\n\n'It's time for you to answer now,' the Queen said, looking at her watch:\n'open your mouth a LITTLE wider when you speak, and always say \"your\nMajesty.\"'\n\n'I only wanted to see what the garden was like, your Majesty--'\n\n'That's right,' said the Queen, patting her on the head, which Alice\ndidn't like at all, 'though, when you say \"garden,\"--I'VE seen gardens,\ncompared with which this would be a wilderness.'\n\nAlice didn't dare to argue the point, but went on: '--and I thought I'd\ntry and find my way to the top of that hill--'\n\n'When you say \"hill,\"' the Queen interrupted, '_I_ could show you hills,\nin comparison with which you'd call that a valley.'\n\n'No, I shouldn't,' said Alice, surprised into contradicting her at last:\n'a hill CAN'T be a valley, you know. That would be nonsense--'\n\nThe Red Queen shook her head, 'You may call it \"nonsense\" if you like,'\nshe said, 'but I'VE heard nonsense, compared with which that would be as\nsensible as a dictionary!'\n\nAlice curtseyed again, as she was afraid from the Queen's tone that she\nwas a LITTLE offended: and they walked on in silence till they got to\nthe top of the little hill.\n\nFor some minutes Alice stood without speaking, looking out in all\ndirections over the country--and a most curious country it was. There\nwere a number of tiny little brooks running straight across it from side\nto side, and the ground between was divided up into squares by a number\nof little green hedges, that reached from brook to brook.\n\n'I declare it's marked out just like a large chessboard!' Alice said at\nlast. 'There ought to be some men moving about somewhere--and so there\nare!' She added in a tone of delight, and her heart began to beat quick\nwith excitement as she went on. 'It's a great huge game of chess that's\nbeing played--all over the world--if this IS the world at all, you know.\nOh, what fun it is! How I WISH I was one of them! I wouldn't mind being\na Pawn, if only I might join--though of course I should LIKE to be a\nQueen, best.'\n\nShe glanced rather shyly at the real Queen as she said this, but her\ncompanion only smiled pleasantly, and said, 'That's easily managed. You\ncan be the White Queen's Pawn, if you like, as Lily's too young to\nplay; and you're in the Second Square to begin with: when you get to\nthe Eighth Square you'll be a Queen--' Just at this moment, somehow or\nother, they began to run.\n\nAlice never could quite make out, in thinking it over afterwards, how it\nwas that they began: all she remembers is, that they were running hand\nin hand, and the Queen went so fast that it was all she could do to keep\nup with her: and still the Queen kept crying 'Faster! Faster!' but Alice\nfelt she COULD NOT go faster, though she had not breath left to say so.\n\nThe most curious part of the thing was, that the trees and the other\nthings round them never changed their places at all: however fast they\nwent, they never seemed to pass anything. 'I wonder if all the things\nmove along with us?' thought poor puzzled Alice. And the Queen seemed to\nguess her thoughts, for she cried, 'Faster! Don't try to talk!'\n\nNot that Alice had any idea of doing THAT. She felt as if she would\nnever be able to talk again, she was getting so much out of breath: and\nstill the Queen cried 'Faster! Faster!' and dragged her along. 'Are we\nnearly there?' Alice managed to pant out at last.\n\n'Nearly there!' the Queen repeated. 'Why, we passed it ten minutes ago!\nFaster!' And they ran on for a time in silence, with the wind whistling\nin Alice's ears, and almost blowing her hair off her head, she fancied.\n\n'Now! Now!' cried the Queen. 'Faster! Faster!' And they went so fast\nthat at last they seemed to skim through the air, hardly touching the\nground with their feet, till suddenly, just as Alice was getting quite\nexhausted, they stopped, and she found herself sitting on the ground,\nbreathless and giddy.\n\nThe Queen propped her up against a tree, and said kindly, 'You may rest\na little now.'\n\nAlice looked round her in great surprise. 'Why, I do believe we've been\nunder this tree the whole time! Everything's just as it was!'\n\n'Of course it is,' said the Queen, 'what would you have it?'\n\n'Well, in OUR country,' said Alice, still panting a little, 'you'd\ngenerally get to somewhere else--if you ran very fast for a long time,\nas we've been doing.'\n\n'A slow sort of country!' said the Queen. 'Now, HERE, you see, it takes\nall the running YOU can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to\nget somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!'\n\n'I'd rather not try, please!' said Alice. 'I'm quite content to stay\nhere--only I AM so hot and thirsty!'\n\n'I know what YOU'D like!' the Queen said good-naturedly, taking a little\nbox out of her pocket. 'Have a biscuit?'\n\nAlice thought it would not be civil to say 'No,' though it wasn't at all\nwhat she wanted. So she took it, and ate it as well as she could: and it\nwas VERY dry; and she thought she had never been so nearly choked in all\nher life.\n\n'While you're refreshing yourself,' said the Queen, 'I'll just take\nthe measurements.' And she took a ribbon out of her pocket, marked in\ninches, and began measuring the ground, and sticking little pegs in here\nand there.\n\n'At the end of two yards,' she said, putting in a peg to mark the\ndistance, 'I shall give you your directions--have another biscuit?'\n\n'No, thank you,' said Alice: 'one's QUITE enough!'\n\n'Thirst quenched, I hope?' said the Queen.\n\nAlice did not know what to say to this, but luckily the Queen did not\nwait for an answer, but went on. 'At the end of THREE yards I shall\nrepeat them--for fear of your forgetting them. At the end of FOUR, I\nshall say good-bye. And at the end of FIVE, I shall go!'\n\nShe had got all the pegs put in by this time, and Alice looked on\nwith great interest as she returned to the tree, and then began slowly\nwalking down the row.\n\nAt the two-yard peg she faced round, and said, 'A pawn goes two squares\nin its first move, you know. So you'll go VERY quickly through the Third\nSquare--by railway, I should think--and you'll find yourself in the\nFourth Square in no time. Well, THAT square belongs to Tweedledum and\nTweedledee--the Fifth is mostly water--the Sixth belongs to Humpty\nDumpty--But you make no remark?'\n\n'I--I didn't know I had to make one--just then,' Alice faltered out.\n\n'You SHOULD have said, \"It's extremely kind of you to tell me all\nthis\"--however, we'll suppose it said--the Seventh Square is all\nforest--however, one of the Knights will show you the way--and in the\nEighth Square we shall be Queens together, and it's all feasting and\nfun!' Alice got up and curtseyed, and sat down again.\n\nAt the next peg the Queen turned again, and this time she said, 'Speak\nin French when you can't think of the English for a thing--turn out your\ntoes as you walk--and remember who you are!' She did not wait for Alice\nto curtsey this time, but walked on quickly to the next peg, where she\nturned for a moment to say 'good-bye,' and then hurried on to the last.\n\nHow it happened, Alice never knew, but exactly as she came to the last\npeg, she was gone. Whether she vanished into the air, or whether she\nran quickly into the wood ('and she CAN run very fast!' thought Alice),\nthere was no way of guessing, but she was gone, and Alice began to\nremember that she was a Pawn, and that it would soon be time for her to\nmove.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. Looking-Glass Insects\n\nOf course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the\ncountry she was going to travel through. 'It's something very like\nlearning geography,' thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes of\nbeing able to see a little further. 'Principal rivers--there ARE none.\nPrincipal mountains--I'm on the only one, but I don't think it's got any\nname. Principal towns--why, what ARE those creatures, making honey down\nthere? They can't be bees--nobody ever saw bees a mile off, you know--'\nand for some time she stood silent, watching one of them that was\nbustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them, 'just\nas if it was a regular bee,' thought Alice.\n\nHowever, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an\nelephant--as Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath\naway at first. 'And what enormous flowers they must be!' was her next\nidea. 'Something like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put\nto them--and what quantities of honey they must make! I think I'll go\ndown and--no, I won't JUST yet,' she went on, checking herself just as\nshe was beginning to run down the hill, and trying to find some excuse\nfor turning shy so suddenly. 'It'll never do to go down among them\nwithout a good long branch to brush them away--and what fun it'll be\nwhen they ask me how I like my walk. I shall say--\"Oh, I like it well\nenough--\"' (here came the favourite little toss of the head), '\"only it\nwas so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!\"'\n\n'I think I'll go down the other way,' she said after a pause: 'and\nperhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get\ninto the Third Square!'\n\nSo with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of\nthe six little brooks.\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n'Tickets, please!' said the Guard, putting his head in at the window.\nIn a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the same\nsize as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.\n\n'Now then! Show your ticket, child!' the Guard went on, looking angrily\nat Alice. And a great many voices all said together ('like the chorus of\na song,' thought Alice), 'Don't keep him waiting, child! Why, his time\nis worth a thousand pounds a minute!'\n\n'I'm afraid I haven't got one,' Alice said in a frightened tone: 'there\nwasn't a ticket-office where I came from.' And again the chorus of\nvoices went on. 'There wasn't room for one where she came from. The land\nthere is worth a thousand pounds an inch!'\n\n'Don't make excuses,' said the Guard: 'you should have bought one from\nthe engine-driver.' And once more the chorus of voices went on with 'The\nman that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a thousand\npounds a puff!'\n\nAlice thought to herself, 'Then there's no use in speaking.' The\nvoices didn't join in this time, as she hadn't spoken, but to her\ngreat surprise, they all THOUGHT in chorus (I hope you understand what\nTHINKING IN CHORUS means--for I must confess that _I_ don't), 'Better\nsay nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!'\n\n'I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!' thought\nAlice.\n\nAll this time the Guard was looking at her, first through a telescope,\nthen through a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last he\nsaid, 'You're travelling the wrong way,' and shut up the window and went\naway.\n\n'So young a child,' said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he was\ndressed in white paper), 'ought to know which way she's going, even if\nshe doesn't know her own name!'\n\nA Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his\neyes and said in a loud voice, 'She ought to know her way to the\nticket-office, even if she doesn't know her alphabet!'\n\nThere was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queer\ncarriage-full of passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to be\nthat they should all speak in turn, HE went on with 'She'll have to go\nback from here as luggage!'\n\nAlice couldn't see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse voice\nspoke next. 'Change engines--' it said, and was obliged to leave off.\n\n'It sounds like a horse,' Alice thought to herself. And an extremely\nsmall voice, close to her ear, said, 'You might make a joke on\nthat--something about \"horse\" and \"hoarse,\" you know.'\n\nThen a very gentle voice in the distance said, 'She must be labelled\n\"Lass, with care,\" you know--'\n\nAnd after that other voices went on ('What a number of people there are\nin the carriage!' thought Alice), saying, 'She must go by post, as she's\ngot a head on her--' 'She must be sent as a message by the telegraph--'\n'She must draw the train herself the rest of the way--' and so on.\n\nBut the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered\nin her ear, 'Never mind what they all say, my dear, but take a\nreturn-ticket every time the train stops.'\n\n'Indeed I shan't!' Alice said rather impatiently. 'I don't belong to\nthis railway journey at all--I was in a wood just now--and I wish I\ncould get back there.'\n\n'You might make a joke on THAT,' said the little voice close to her ear:\n'something about \"you WOULD if you could,\" you know.'\n\n'Don't tease so,' said Alice, looking about in vain to see where the\nvoice came from; 'if you're so anxious to have a joke made, why don't\nyou make one yourself?'\n\nThe little voice sighed deeply: it was VERY unhappy, evidently, and\nAlice would have said something pitying to comfort it, 'If it would only\nsigh like other people!' she thought. But this was such a wonderfully\nsmall sigh, that she wouldn't have heard it at all, if it hadn't come\nQUITE close to her ear. The consequence of this was that it tickled her\near very much, and quite took off her thoughts from the unhappiness of\nthe poor little creature.\n\n'I know you are a friend,' the little voice went on; 'a dear friend, and\nan old friend. And you won't hurt me, though I AM an insect.'\n\n'What kind of insect?' Alice inquired a little anxiously. What she\nreally wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but she\nthought this wouldn't be quite a civil question to ask.\n\n'What, then you don't--' the little voice began, when it was drowned by\na shrill scream from the engine, and everybody jumped up in alarm, Alice\namong the rest.\n\nThe Horse, who had put his head out of the window, quietly drew it in\nand said, 'It's only a brook we have to jump over.' Everybody seemed\nsatisfied with this, though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea of\ntrains jumping at all. 'However, it'll take us into the Fourth Square,\nthat's some comfort!' she said to herself. In another moment she felt\nthe carriage rise straight up into the air, and in her fright she caught\nat the thing nearest to her hand, which happened to be the Goat's beard.\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\nBut the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she found\nherself sitting quietly under a tree--while the Gnat (for that was the\ninsect she had been talking to) was balancing itself on a twig just over\nher head, and fanning her with its wings.\n\nIt certainly was a VERY large Gnat: 'about the size of a chicken,' Alice\nthought. Still, she couldn't feel nervous with it, after they had been\ntalking together so long.\n\n'--then you don't like all insects?' the Gnat went on, as quietly as if\nnothing had happened.\n\n'I like them when they can talk,' Alice said. 'None of them ever talk,\nwhere _I_ come from.'\n\n'What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where YOU come from?' the Gnat\ninquired.\n\n'I don't REJOICE in insects at all,' Alice explained, 'because I'm\nrather afraid of them--at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the\nnames of some of them.'\n\n'Of course they answer to their names?' the Gnat remarked carelessly.\n\n'I never knew them to do it.'\n\n'What's the use of their having names,' the Gnat said, 'if they won't\nanswer to them?'\n\n'No use to THEM,' said Alice; 'but it's useful to the people who name\nthem, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?'\n\n'I can't say,' the Gnat replied. 'Further on, in the wood down there,\nthey've got no names--however, go on with your list of insects: you're\nwasting time.'\n\n'Well, there's the Horse-fly,' Alice began, counting off the names on\nher fingers.\n\n'All right,' said the Gnat: 'half way up that bush, you'll see a\nRocking-horse-fly, if you look. It's made entirely of wood, and gets\nabout by swinging itself from branch to branch.'\n\n'What does it live on?' Alice asked, with great curiosity.\n\n'Sap and sawdust,' said the Gnat. 'Go on with the list.'\n\nAlice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made\nup her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright\nand sticky; and then she went on.\n\n'And there's the Dragon-fly.'\n\n'Look on the branch above your head,' said the Gnat, 'and there you'll\nfind a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of\nholly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.'\n\n'And what does it live on?'\n\n'Frumenty and mince pie,' the Gnat replied; 'and it makes its nest in a\nChristmas box.'\n\n'And then there's the Butterfly,' Alice went on, after she had taken\na good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to\nherself, 'I wonder if that's the reason insects are so fond of flying\ninto candles--because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!'\n\n'Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in\nsome alarm), 'you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin\nslices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump\nof sugar.'\n\n'And what does IT live on?'\n\n'Weak tea with cream in it.'\n\nA new difficulty came into Alice's head. 'Supposing it couldn't find\nany?' she suggested.\n\n'Then it would die, of course.'\n\n'But that must happen very often,' Alice remarked thoughtfully.\n\n'It always happens,' said the Gnat.\n\nAfter this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat\namused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last\nit settled again and remarked, 'I suppose you don't want to lose your\nname?'\n\n'No, indeed,' Alice said, a little anxiously.\n\n'And yet I don't know,' the Gnat went on in a careless tone: 'only think\nhow convenient it would be if you could manage to go home without it!\nFor instance, if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons, she\nwould call out \"come here--,\" and there she would have to leave off,\nbecause there wouldn't be any name for her to call, and of course you\nwouldn't have to go, you know.'\n\n'That would never do, I'm sure,' said Alice: 'the governess would never\nthink of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldn't remember my name,\nshe'd call me \"Miss!\" as the servants do.'\n\n'Well, if she said \"Miss,\" and didn't say anything more,' the Gnat\nremarked, 'of course you'd miss your lessons. That's a joke. I wish YOU\nhad made it.'\n\n'Why do you wish _I_ had made it?' Alice asked. 'It's a very bad one.'\n\nBut the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling down\nits cheeks.\n\n'You shouldn't make jokes,' Alice said, 'if it makes you so unhappy.'\n\nThen came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the\npoor Gnat really seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when Alice\nlooked up, there was nothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, as\nshe was getting quite chilly with sitting still so long, she got up and\nwalked on.\n\nShe very soon came to an open field, with a wood on the other side of\nit: it looked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a LITTLE\ntimid about going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up her\nmind to go on: 'for I certainly won't go BACK,' she thought to herself,\nand this was the only way to the Eighth Square.\n\n'This must be the wood,' she said thoughtfully to herself, 'where\nthings have no names. I wonder what'll become of MY name when I go in?\nI shouldn't like to lose it at all--because they'd have to give me\nanother, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then\nthe fun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old\nname! That's just like the advertisements, you know, when people lose\ndogs--\"ANSWERS TO THE NAME OF 'DASH:' HAD ON A BRASS COLLAR\"--just fancy\ncalling everything you met \"Alice,\" till one of them answered! Only they\nwouldn't answer at all, if they were wise.'\n\nShe was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it looked\nvery cool and shady. 'Well, at any rate it's a great comfort,' she\nsaid as she stepped under the trees, 'after being so hot, to get into\nthe--into WHAT?' she went on, rather surprised at not being able to\nthink of the word. 'I mean to get under the--under the--under THIS, you\nknow!' putting her hand on the trunk of the tree. 'What DOES it call\nitself, I wonder? I do believe it's got no name--why, to be sure it\nhasn't!'\n\nShe stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again.\n'Then it really HAS happened, after all! And now, who am I? I WILL\nremember, if I can! I'm determined to do it!' But being determined\ndidn't help much, and all she could say, after a great deal of puzzling,\nwas, 'L, I KNOW it begins with L!'\n\nJust then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large\ngentle eyes, but didn't seem at all frightened. 'Here then! Here then!'\nAlice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only\nstarted back a little, and then stood looking at her again.\n\n'What do you call yourself?' the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet\nvoice it had!\n\n'I wish I knew!' thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly,\n'Nothing, just now.'\n\n'Think again,' it said: 'that won't do.'\n\nAlice thought, but nothing came of it. 'Please, would you tell me\nwhat YOU call yourself?' she said timidly. 'I think that might help a\nlittle.'\n\n'I'll tell you, if you'll move a little further on,' the Fawn said. 'I\ncan't remember here.'\n\nSo they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms clasped\nlovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into\nanother open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air,\nand shook itself free from Alice's arms. 'I'm a Fawn!' it cried out in a\nvoice of delight, 'and, dear me! you're a human child!' A sudden look of\nalarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had\ndarted away at full speed.\n\nAlice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at\nhaving lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. 'However, I\nknow my name now.' she said, 'that's SOME comfort. Alice--Alice--I won't\nforget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow,\nI wonder?'\n\nIt was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one\nroad through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it.\n'I'll settle it,' Alice said to herself, 'when the road divides and they\npoint different ways.'\n\nBut this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way,\nbut wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts\npointing the same way, one marked 'TO TWEEDLEDUM'S HOUSE' and the other\n'TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.'\n\n'I do believe,' said Alice at last, 'that they live in the same house! I\nwonder I never thought of that before--But I can't stay there long. I'll\njust call and say \"how d'you do?\" and ask them the way out of the wood.\nIf I could only get to the Eighth Square before it gets dark!' So she\nwandered on, talking to herself as she went, till, on turning a sharp\ncorner, she came upon two fat little men, so suddenly that she could not\nhelp starting back, but in another moment she recovered herself, feeling\nsure that they must be.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. Tweedledum And Tweedledee\n\nThey were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other's\nneck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them\nhad 'DUM' embroidered on his collar, and the other 'DEE.' 'I suppose\nthey've each got \"TWEEDLE\" round at the back of the collar,' she said to\nherself.\n\nThey stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was\njust looking round to see if the word \"TWEEDLE\" was written at the back\nof each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one\nmarked 'DUM.'\n\n'If you think we're wax-works,' he said, 'you ought to pay, you know.\nWax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!'\n\n'Contrariwise,' added the one marked 'DEE,' 'if you think we're alive,\nyou ought to speak.'\n\n'I'm sure I'm very sorry,' was all Alice could say; for the words of the\nold song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock, and\nshe could hardly help saying them out loud:--\n\n\n     'Tweedledum and Tweedledee\n      Agreed to have a battle;\n     For Tweedledum said Tweedledee\n      Had spoiled his nice new rattle.\n\n     Just then flew down a monstrous crow,\n      As black as a tar-barrel;\n     Which frightened both the heroes so,\n      They quite forgot their quarrel.'\n\n'I know what you're thinking about,' said Tweedledum: 'but it isn't so,\nnohow.'\n\n'Contrariwise,' continued Tweedledee, 'if it was so, it might be; and if\nit were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.'\n\n'I was thinking,' Alice said very politely, 'which is the best way out\nof this wood: it's getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?'\n\nBut the little men only looked at each other and grinned.\n\nThey looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice\ncouldn't help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying 'First Boy!'\n\n'Nohow!' Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with\na snap.\n\n'Next Boy!' said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite\ncertain he would only shout out 'Contrariwise!' and so he did.\n\n'You've been wrong!' cried Tweedledum. 'The first thing in a visit is to\nsay \"How d'ye do?\" and shake hands!' And here the two brothers gave each\nother a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to\nshake hands with her.\n\nAlice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear\nof hurting the other one's feelings; so, as the best way out of the\ndifficulty, she took hold of both hands at once: the next moment they\nwere dancing round in a ring. This seemed quite natural (she remembered\nafterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing: it\nseemed to come from the tree under which they were dancing, and it was\ndone (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing one\nacross the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.\n\n'But it certainly WAS funny,' (Alice said afterwards, when she was\ntelling her sister the history of all this,) 'to find myself singing\n\"HERE WE GO ROUND THE MULBERRY BUSH.\" I don't know when I began it, but\nsomehow I felt as if I'd been singing it a long long time!'\n\nThe other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. 'Four times\nround is enough for one dance,' Tweedledum panted out, and they left\noff dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same\nmoment.\n\nThen they let go of Alice's hands, and stood looking at her for a\nminute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn't know how to\nbegin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. 'It\nwould never do to say \"How d'ye do?\" NOW,' she said to herself: 'we seem\nto have got beyond that, somehow!'\n\n'I hope you're not much tired?' she said at last.\n\n'Nohow. And thank you VERY much for asking,' said Tweedledum.\n\n'So much obliged!' added Tweedledee. 'You like poetry?'\n\n'Ye-es, pretty well--SOME poetry,' Alice said doubtfully. 'Would you\ntell me which road leads out of the wood?'\n\n'What shall I repeat to her?' said Tweedledee, looking round at\nTweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice's question.\n\n'\"THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER\" is the longest,' Tweedledum replied,\ngiving his brother an affectionate hug.\n\nTweedledee began instantly:\n\n       'The sun was shining--'\n\nHere Alice ventured to interrupt him. 'If it's VERY long,' she said, as\npolitely as she could, 'would you please tell me first which road--'\n\nTweedledee smiled gently, and began again:\n\n     'The sun was shining on the sea,\n      Shining with all his might:\n     He did his very best to make\n      The billows smooth and bright--\n     And this was odd, because it was\n      The middle of the night.\n\n     The moon was shining sulkily,\n      Because she thought the sun\n     Had got no business to be there\n      After the day was done--\n     \"It's very rude of him,\" she said,\n      \"To come and spoil the fun!\"\n\n     The sea was wet as wet could be,\n      The sands were dry as dry.\n     You could not see a cloud, because\n      No cloud was in the sky:\n     No birds were flying over head--\n      There were no birds to fly.\n\n     The Walrus and the Carpenter\n      Were walking close at hand;\n     They wept like anything to see\n      Such quantities of sand:\n     \"If this were only cleared away,\"\n      They said, \"it WOULD be grand!\"\n\n     \"If seven maids with seven mops\n      Swept it for half a year,\n     Do you suppose,\" the Walrus said,\n      \"That they could get it clear?\"\n     \"I doubt it,\" said the Carpenter,\n      And shed a bitter tear.\n\n     \"O Oysters, come and walk with us!\"\n      The Walrus did beseech.\n     \"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,\n      Along the briny beach:\n     We cannot do with more than four,\n      To give a hand to each.\"\n\n     The eldest Oyster looked at him.\n      But never a word he said:\n     The eldest Oyster winked his eye,\n      And shook his heavy head--\n     Meaning to say he did not choose\n      To leave the oyster-bed.\n\n     But four young oysters hurried up,\n      All eager for the treat:\n     Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,\n      Their shoes were clean and neat--\n     And this was odd, because, you know,\n      They hadn't any feet.\n\n     Four other Oysters followed them,\n      And yet another four;\n     And thick and fast they came at last,\n      And more, and more, and more--\n     All hopping through the frothy waves,\n      And scrambling to the shore.\n\n     The Walrus and the Carpenter\n      Walked on a mile or so,\n     And then they rested on a rock\n      Conveniently low:\n     And all the little Oysters stood\n      And waited in a row.\n\n     \"The time has come,\" the Walrus said,\n      \"To talk of many things:\n     Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--\n      Of cabbages--and kings--\n     And why the sea is boiling hot--\n      And whether pigs have wings.\"\n\n     \"But wait a bit,\" the Oysters cried,\n      \"Before we have our chat;\n     For some of us are out of breath,\n      And all of us are fat!\"\n     \"No hurry!\" said the Carpenter.\n      They thanked him much for that.\n\n     \"A loaf of bread,\" the Walrus said,\n      \"Is what we chiefly need:\n     Pepper and vinegar besides\n      Are very good indeed--\n     Now if you're ready Oysters dear,\n      We can begin to feed.\"\n\n     \"But not on us!\" the Oysters cried,\n      Turning a little blue,\n     \"After such kindness, that would be\n      A dismal thing to do!\"\n     \"The night is fine,\" the Walrus said\n      \"Do you admire the view?\n\n     \"It was so kind of you to come!\n      And you are very nice!\"\n     The Carpenter said nothing but\n      \"Cut us another slice:\n     I wish you were not quite so deaf--\n      I've had to ask you twice!\"\n\n     \"It seems a shame,\" the Walrus said,\n      \"To play them such a trick,\n     After we've brought them out so far,\n      And made them trot so quick!\"\n     The Carpenter said nothing but\n      \"The butter's spread too thick!\"\n\n     \"I weep for you,\" the Walrus said.\n      \"I deeply sympathize.\"\n     With sobs and tears he sorted out\n      Those of the largest size.\n     Holding his pocket handkerchief\n      Before his streaming eyes.\n\n     \"O Oysters,\" said the Carpenter.\n      \"You've had a pleasant run!\n     Shall we be trotting home again?\"\n      But answer came there none--\n     And that was scarcely odd, because\n      They'd eaten every one.'\n\n'I like the Walrus best,' said Alice: 'because you see he was a LITTLE\nsorry for the poor oysters.'\n\n'He ate more than the Carpenter, though,' said Tweedledee. 'You see he\nheld his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn't count how\nmany he took: contrariwise.'\n\n'That was mean!' Alice said indignantly. 'Then I like the Carpenter\nbest--if he didn't eat so many as the Walrus.'\n\n'But he ate as many as he could get,' said Tweedledum.\n\nThis was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, 'Well! They were BOTH\nvery unpleasant characters--' Here she checked herself in some alarm,\nat hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large\nsteam-engine in the wood near them, though she feared it was more likely\nto be a wild beast. 'Are there any lions or tigers about here?' she\nasked timidly.\n\n'It's only the Red King snoring,' said Tweedledee.\n\n'Come and look at him!' the brothers cried, and they each took one of\nAlice's hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.\n\n'Isn't he a LOVELY sight?' said Tweedledum.\n\nAlice couldn't say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap on,\nwith a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap,\nand snoring loud--'fit to snore his head off!' as Tweedledum remarked.\n\n'I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,' said Alice,\nwho was a very thoughtful little girl.\n\n'He's dreaming now,' said Tweedledee: 'and what do you think he's\ndreaming about?'\n\nAlice said 'Nobody can guess that.'\n\n'Why, about YOU!' Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly.\n'And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be?'\n\n'Where I am now, of course,' said Alice.\n\n'Not you!' Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. 'You'd be nowhere. Why,\nyou're only a sort of thing in his dream!'\n\n'If that there King was to wake,' added Tweedledum, 'you'd go\nout--bang!--just like a candle!'\n\n'I shouldn't!' Alice exclaimed indignantly. 'Besides, if I'M only a sort\nof thing in his dream, what are YOU, I should like to know?'\n\n'Ditto' said Tweedledum.\n\n'Ditto, ditto' cried Tweedledee.\n\nHe shouted this so loud that Alice couldn't help saying, 'Hush! You'll\nbe waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise.'\n\n'Well, it no use YOUR talking about waking him,' said Tweedledum, 'when\nyou're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're\nnot real.'\n\n'I AM real!' said Alice and began to cry.\n\n'You won't make yourself a bit realler by crying,' Tweedledee remarked:\n'there's nothing to cry about.'\n\n'If I wasn't real,' Alice said--half-laughing through her tears, it all\nseemed so ridiculous--'I shouldn't be able to cry.'\n\n'I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?' Tweedledum interrupted\nin a tone of great contempt.\n\n'I know they're talking nonsense,' Alice thought to herself: 'and it's\nfoolish to cry about it.' So she brushed away her tears, and went on as\ncheerfully as she could. 'At any rate I'd better be getting out of the\nwood, for really it's coming on very dark. Do you think it's going to\nrain?'\n\nTweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and\nlooked up into it. 'No, I don't think it is,' he said: 'at least--not\nunder HERE. Nohow.'\n\n'But it may rain OUTSIDE?'\n\n'It may--if it chooses,' said Tweedledee: 'we've no objection.\nContrariwise.'\n\n'Selfish things!' thought Alice, and she was just going to say\n'Good-night' and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the\numbrella and seized her by the wrist.\n\n'Do you see THAT?' he said, in a voice choking with passion, and\nhis eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a\ntrembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.\n\n'It's only a rattle,' Alice said, after a careful examination of the\nlittle white thing. 'Not a rattleSNAKE, you know,' she added hastily,\nthinking that he was frightened: 'only an old rattle--quite old and\nbroken.'\n\n'I knew it was!' cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and\ntear his hair. 'It's spoilt, of course!' Here he looked at Tweedledee,\nwho immediately sat down on the ground, and tried to hide himself under\nthe umbrella.\n\nAlice laid her hand upon his arm, and said in a soothing tone, 'You\nneedn't be so angry about an old rattle.'\n\n'But it isn't old!' Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever. 'It's\nnew, I tell you--I bought it yesterday--my nice new RATTLE!' and his\nvoice rose to a perfect scream.\n\nAll this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella,\nwith himself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that it\nquite took off Alice's attention from the angry brother. But he couldn't\nquite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the\numbrella, with only his head out: and there he lay, opening and shutting\nhis mouth and his large eyes--'looking more like a fish than anything\nelse,' Alice thought.\n\n'Of course you agree to have a battle?' Tweedledum said in a calmer\ntone.\n\n'I suppose so,' the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the\numbrella: 'only SHE must help us to dress up, you know.'\n\nSo the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned\nin a minute with their arms full of things--such as bolsters, blankets,\nhearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. 'I hope you're\na good hand at pinning and tying strings?' Tweedledum remarked. 'Every\none of these things has got to go on, somehow or other.'\n\nAlice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything\nin all her life--the way those two bustled about--and the quantity of\nthings they put on--and the trouble they gave her in tying strings and\nfastening buttons--'Really they'll be more like bundles of old clothes\nthan anything else, by the time they're ready!' she said to herself, as\nshe arranged a bolster round the neck of Tweedledee, 'to keep his head\nfrom being cut off,' as he said.\n\n'You know,' he added very gravely, 'it's one of the most serious things\nthat can possibly happen to one in a battle--to get one's head cut off.'\n\nAlice laughed aloud: but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear\nof hurting his feelings.\n\n'Do I look very pale?' said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet\ntied on. (He CALLED it a helmet, though it certainly looked much more\nlike a saucepan.)\n\n'Well--yes--a LITTLE,' Alice replied gently.\n\n'I'm very brave generally,' he went on in a low voice: 'only to-day I\nhappen to have a headache.'\n\n'And I'VE got a toothache!' said Tweedledee, who had overheard the\nremark. 'I'm far worse off than you!'\n\n'Then you'd better not fight to-day,' said Alice, thinking it a good\nopportunity to make peace.\n\n'We MUST have a bit of a fight, but I don't care about going on long,'\nsaid Tweedledum. 'What's the time now?'\n\nTweedledee looked at his watch, and said 'Half-past four.'\n\n'Let's fight till six, and then have dinner,' said Tweedledum.\n\n'Very well,' the other said, rather sadly: 'and SHE can watch us--only\nyou'd better not come VERY close,' he added: 'I generally hit everything\nI can see--when I get really excited.'\n\n'And _I_ hit everything within reach,' cried Tweedledum, 'whether I can\nsee it or not!'\n\nAlice laughed. 'You must hit the TREES pretty often, I should think,'\nshe said.\n\nTweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. 'I don't suppose,'\nhe said, 'there'll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by\nthe time we've finished!'\n\n'And all about a rattle!' said Alice, still hoping to make them a LITTLE\nashamed of fighting for such a trifle.\n\n'I shouldn't have minded it so much,' said Tweedledum, 'if it hadn't\nbeen a new one.'\n\n'I wish the monstrous crow would come!' thought Alice.\n\n'There's only one sword, you know,' Tweedledum said to his brother:\n'but you can have the umbrella--it's quite as sharp. Only we must begin\nquick. It's getting as dark as it can.'\n\n'And darker,' said Tweedledee.\n\nIt was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a\nthunderstorm coming on. 'What a thick black cloud that is!' she said.\n'And how fast it comes! Why, I do believe it's got wings!'\n\n'It's the crow!' Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and\nthe two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.\n\nAlice ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree.\n'It can never get at me HERE,' she thought: 'it's far too large to\nsqueeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn't flap its wings\nso--it makes quite a hurricane in the wood--here's somebody's shawl\nbeing blown away!'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Wool and Water\n\nShe caught the shawl as she spoke, and looked about for the owner: in\nanother moment the White Queen came running wildly through the wood,\nwith both arms stretched out wide, as if she were flying, and Alice very\ncivilly went to meet her with the shawl.\n\n'I'm very glad I happened to be in the way,' Alice said, as she helped\nher to put on her shawl again.\n\nThe White Queen only looked at her in a helpless frightened sort of way,\nand kept repeating something in a whisper to herself that sounded like\n'bread-and-butter, bread-and-butter,' and Alice felt that if there was\nto be any conversation at all, she must manage it herself. So she began\nrather timidly: 'Am I addressing the White Queen?'\n\n'Well, yes, if you call that a-dressing,' The Queen said. 'It isn't MY\nnotion of the thing, at all.'\n\nAlice thought it would never do to have an argument at the very\nbeginning of their conversation, so she smiled and said, 'If your\nMajesty will only tell me the right way to begin, I'll do it as well as\nI can.'\n\n'But I don't want it done at all!' groaned the poor Queen. 'I've been\na-dressing myself for the last two hours.'\n\nIt would have been all the better, as it seemed to Alice, if she had got\nsome one else to dress her, she was so dreadfully untidy. 'Every\nsingle thing's crooked,' Alice thought to herself, 'and she's all over\npins!--may I put your shawl straight for you?' she added aloud.\n\n'I don't know what's the matter with it!' the Queen said, in a\nmelancholy voice. 'It's out of temper, I think. I've pinned it here, and\nI've pinned it there, but there's no pleasing it!'\n\n'It CAN'T go straight, you know, if you pin it all on one side,' Alice\nsaid, as she gently put it right for her; 'and, dear me, what a state\nyour hair is in!'\n\n'The brush has got entangled in it!' the Queen said with a sigh. 'And I\nlost the comb yesterday.'\n\nAlice carefully released the brush, and did her best to get the hair\ninto order. 'Come, you look rather better now!' she said, after altering\nmost of the pins. 'But really you should have a lady's maid!'\n\n'I'm sure I'll take you with pleasure!' the Queen said. 'Twopence a\nweek, and jam every other day.'\n\nAlice couldn't help laughing, as she said, 'I don't want you to hire\nME--and I don't care for jam.'\n\n'It's very good jam,' said the Queen.\n\n'Well, I don't want any TO-DAY, at any rate.'\n\n'You couldn't have it if you DID want it,' the Queen said. 'The rule is,\njam to-morrow and jam yesterday--but never jam to-day.'\n\n'It MUST come sometimes to \"jam to-day,\"' Alice objected.\n\n'No, it can't,' said the Queen. 'It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't\nany OTHER day, you know.'\n\n'I don't understand you,' said Alice. 'It's dreadfully confusing!'\n\n'That's the effect of living backwards,' the Queen said kindly: 'it\nalways makes one a little giddy at first--'\n\n'Living backwards!' Alice repeated in great astonishment. 'I never heard\nof such a thing!'\n\n'--but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both\nways.'\n\n'I'm sure MINE only works one way,' Alice remarked. 'I can't remember\nthings before they happen.'\n\n'It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen\nremarked.\n\n'What sort of things do YOU remember best?' Alice ventured to ask.\n\n'Oh, things that happened the week after next,' the Queen replied in a\ncareless tone. 'For instance, now,' she went on, sticking a large piece\nof plaster [band-aid] on her finger as she spoke, 'there's the King's\nMessenger. He's in prison now, being punished: and the trial doesn't\neven begin till next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of\nall.'\n\n'Suppose he never commits the crime?' said Alice.\n\n'That would be all the better, wouldn't it?' the Queen said, as she\nbound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.\n\nAlice felt there was no denying THAT. 'Of course it would be all\nthe better,' she said: 'but it wouldn't be all the better his being\npunished.'\n\n'You're wrong THERE, at any rate,' said the Queen: 'were YOU ever\npunished?'\n\n'Only for faults,' said Alice.\n\n'And you were all the better for it, I know!' the Queen said\ntriumphantly.\n\n'Yes, but then I HAD done the things I was punished for,' said Alice:\n'that makes all the difference.'\n\n'But if you HADN'T done them,' the Queen said, 'that would have been\nbetter still; better, and better, and better!' Her voice went higher\nwith each 'better,' till it got quite to a squeak at last.\n\nAlice was just beginning to say 'There's a mistake somewhere--,' when\nthe Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence\nunfinished. 'Oh, oh, oh!' shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as\nif she wanted to shake it off. 'My finger's bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!'\n\nHer screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that\nAlice had to hold both her hands over her ears.\n\n'What IS the matter?' she said, as soon as there was a chance of making\nherself heard. 'Have you pricked your finger?'\n\n'I haven't pricked it YET,' the Queen said, 'but I soon shall--oh, oh,\noh!'\n\n'When do you expect to do it?' Alice asked, feeling very much inclined\nto laugh.\n\n'When I fasten my shawl again,' the poor Queen groaned out: 'the brooch\nwill come undone directly. Oh, oh!' As she said the words the brooch\nflew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it\nagain.\n\n'Take care!' cried Alice. 'You're holding it all crooked!' And she\ncaught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the\nQueen had pricked her finger.\n\n'That accounts for the bleeding, you see,' she said to Alice with a\nsmile. 'Now you understand the way things happen here.'\n\n'But why don't you scream now?' Alice asked, holding her hands ready to\nput over her ears again.\n\n'Why, I've done all the screaming already,' said the Queen. 'What would\nbe the good of having it all over again?'\n\nBy this time it was getting light. 'The crow must have flown away, I\nthink,' said Alice: 'I'm so glad it's gone. I thought it was the night\ncoming on.'\n\n'I wish _I_ could manage to be glad!' the Queen said. 'Only I never\ncan remember the rule. You must be very happy, living in this wood, and\nbeing glad whenever you like!'\n\n'Only it is so VERY lonely here!' Alice said in a melancholy voice; and\nat the thought of her loneliness two large tears came rolling down her\ncheeks.\n\n'Oh, don't go on like that!' cried the poor Queen, wringing her hands in\ndespair. 'Consider what a great girl you are. Consider what a long way\nyou've come to-day. Consider what o'clock it is. Consider anything, only\ndon't cry!'\n\nAlice could not help laughing at this, even in the midst of her tears.\n'Can YOU keep from crying by considering things?' she asked.\n\n'That's the way it's done,' the Queen said with great decision: 'nobody\ncan do two things at once, you know. Let's consider your age to begin\nwith--how old are you?'\n\n'I'm seven and a half exactly.'\n\n'You needn't say \"exactually,\"' the Queen remarked: 'I can believe\nit without that. Now I'll give YOU something to believe. I'm just one\nhundred and one, five months and a day.'\n\n'I can't believe THAT!' said Alice.\n\n'Can't you?' the Queen said in a pitying tone. 'Try again: draw a long\nbreath, and shut your eyes.'\n\nAlice laughed. 'There's no use trying,' she said: 'one CAN'T believe\nimpossible things.'\n\n'I daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the Queen. 'When I was\nyour age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've\nbelieved as many as six impossible things before breakfast. There goes\nthe shawl again!'\n\nThe brooch had come undone as she spoke, and a sudden gust of wind blew\nthe Queen's shawl across a little brook. The Queen spread out her arms\nagain, and went flying after it, and this time she succeeded in catching\nit for herself. 'I've got it!' she cried in a triumphant tone. 'Now you\nshall see me pin it on again, all by myself!'\n\n'Then I hope your finger is better now?' Alice said very politely, as\nshe crossed the little brook after the Queen.\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n'Oh, much better!' cried the Queen, her voice rising to a squeak as she\nwent on. 'Much be-etter! Be-etter! Be-e-e-etter! Be-e-ehh!' The last\nword ended in a long bleat, so like a sheep that Alice quite started.\n\nShe looked at the Queen, who seemed to have suddenly wrapped herself up\nin wool. Alice rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She couldn't make out\nwhat had happened at all. Was she in a shop? And was that really--was it\nreally a SHEEP that was sitting on the other side of the counter? Rub as\nshe could, she could make nothing more of it: she was in a little dark\nshop, leaning with her elbows on the counter, and opposite to her was\nan old Sheep, sitting in an arm-chair knitting, and every now and then\nleaving off to look at her through a great pair of spectacles.\n\n'What is it you want to buy?' the Sheep said at last, looking up for a\nmoment from her knitting.\n\n'I don't QUITE know yet,' Alice said, very gently. 'I should like to\nlook all round me first, if I might.'\n\n'You may look in front of you, and on both sides, if you like,' said the\nSheep: 'but you can't look ALL round you--unless you've got eyes at the\nback of your head.'\n\nBut these, as it happened, Alice had NOT got: so she contented herself\nwith turning round, looking at the shelves as she came to them.\n\nThe shop seemed to be full of all manner of curious things--but the\noddest part of it all was, that whenever she looked hard at any shelf,\nto make out exactly what it had on it, that particular shelf was always\nquite empty: though the others round it were crowded as full as they\ncould hold.\n\n'Things flow about so here!' she said at last in a plaintive tone, after\nshe had spent a minute or so in vainly pursuing a large bright thing,\nthat looked sometimes like a doll and sometimes like a work-box, and was\nalways in the shelf next above the one she was looking at. 'And this one\nis the most provoking of all--but I'll tell you what--' she added, as a\nsudden thought struck her, 'I'll follow it up to the very top shelf of\nall. It'll puzzle it to go through the ceiling, I expect!'\n\nBut even this plan failed: the 'thing' went through the ceiling as\nquietly as possible, as if it were quite used to it.\n\n'Are you a child or a teetotum?' the Sheep said, as she took up another\npair of needles. 'You'll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning round\nlike that.' She was now working with fourteen pairs at once, and Alice\ncouldn't help looking at her in great astonishment.\n\n'How CAN she knit with so many?' the puzzled child thought to herself.\n'She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!'\n\n'Can you row?' the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles\nas she spoke.\n\n'Yes, a little--but not on land--and not with needles--' Alice was\nbeginning to say, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her\nhands, and she found they were in a little boat, gliding along between\nbanks: so there was nothing for it but to do her best.\n\n'Feather!' cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.\n\nThis didn't sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said\nnothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the\nwater, she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and\nwould hardly come out again.\n\n'Feather! Feather!' the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. 'You'll\nbe catching a crab directly.'\n\n'A dear little crab!' thought Alice. 'I should like that.'\n\n'Didn't you hear me say \"Feather\"?' the Sheep cried angrily, taking up\nquite a bunch of needles.\n\n'Indeed I did,' said Alice: 'you've said it very often--and very loud.\nPlease, where ARE the crabs?'\n\n'In the water, of course!' said the Sheep, sticking some of the needles\ninto her hair, as her hands were full. 'Feather, I say!'\n\n'WHY do you say \"feather\" so often?' Alice asked at last, rather vexed.\n'I'm not a bird!'\n\n'You are,' said the Sheep: 'you're a little goose.'\n\nThis offended Alice a little, so there was no more conversation for a\nminute or two, while the boat glided gently on, sometimes among beds of\nweeds (which made the oars stick fast in the water, worse then ever),\nand sometimes under trees, but always with the same tall river-banks\nfrowning over their heads.\n\n'Oh, please! There are some scented rushes!' Alice cried in a sudden\ntransport of delight. 'There really are--and SUCH beauties!'\n\n'You needn't say \"please\" to ME about 'em,' the Sheep said, without\nlooking up from her knitting: 'I didn't put 'em there, and I'm not going\nto take 'em away.'\n\n'No, but I meant--please, may we wait and pick some?' Alice pleaded. 'If\nyou don't mind stopping the boat for a minute.'\n\n'How am _I_ to stop it?' said the Sheep. 'If you leave off rowing, it'll\nstop of itself.'\n\nSo the boat was left to drift down the stream as it would, till it\nglided gently in among the waving rushes. And then the little sleeves\nwere carefully rolled up, and the little arms were plunged in elbow-deep\nto get the rushes a good long way down before breaking them off--and for\na while Alice forgot all about the Sheep and the knitting, as she\nbent over the side of the boat, with just the ends of her tangled hair\ndipping into the water--while with bright eager eyes she caught at one\nbunch after another of the darling scented rushes.\n\n'I only hope the boat won't tipple over!' she said to herself. 'Oh, WHAT\na lovely one! Only I couldn't quite reach it.' 'And it certainly DID\nseem a little provoking ('almost as if it happened on purpose,' she\nthought) that, though she managed to pick plenty of beautiful rushes as\nthe boat glided by, there was always a more lovely one that she couldn't\nreach.\n\n'The prettiest are always further!' she said at last, with a sigh at the\nobstinacy of the rushes in growing so far off, as, with flushed cheeks\nand dripping hair and hands, she scrambled back into her place, and\nbegan to arrange her new-found treasures.\n\nWhat mattered it to her just then that the rushes had begun to fade, and\nto lose all their scent and beauty, from the very moment that she\npicked them? Even real scented rushes, you know, last only a very little\nwhile--and these, being dream-rushes, melted away almost like snow, as\nthey lay in heaps at her feet--but Alice hardly noticed this, there were\nso many other curious things to think about.\n\nThey hadn't gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars got\nfast in the water and WOULDN'T come out again (so Alice explained it\nafterwards), and the consequence was that the handle of it caught her\nunder the chin, and, in spite of a series of little shrieks of 'Oh, oh,\noh!' from poor Alice, it swept her straight off the seat, and down among\nthe heap of rushes.\n\nHowever, she wasn't hurt, and was soon up again: the Sheep went on with\nher knitting all the while, just as if nothing had happened. 'That was\na nice crab you caught!' she remarked, as Alice got back into her place,\nvery much relieved to find herself still in the boat.\n\n'Was it? I didn't see it,' Said Alice, peeping cautiously over the side\nof the boat into the dark water. 'I wish it hadn't let go--I should\nso like to see a little crab to take home with me!' But the Sheep only\nlaughed scornfully, and went on with her knitting.\n\n'Are there many crabs here?' said Alice.\n\n'Crabs, and all sorts of things,' said the Sheep: 'plenty of choice,\nonly make up your mind. Now, what DO you want to buy?'\n\n'To buy!' Alice echoed in a tone that was half astonished and half\nfrightened--for the oars, and the boat, and the river, had vanished all\nin a moment, and she was back again in the little dark shop.\n\n'I should like to buy an egg, please,' she said timidly. 'How do you\nsell them?'\n\n'Fivepence farthing for one--Twopence for two,' the Sheep replied.\n\n'Then two are cheaper than one?' Alice said in a surprised tone, taking\nout her purse.\n\n'Only you MUST eat them both, if you buy two,' said the Sheep.\n\n'Then I'll have ONE, please,' said Alice, as she put the money down on\nthe counter. For she thought to herself, 'They mightn't be at all nice,\nyou know.'\n\nThe Sheep took the money, and put it away in a box: then she said 'I\nnever put things into people's hands--that would never do--you must get\nit for yourself.' And so saying, she went off to the other end of the\nshop, and set the egg upright on a shelf.\n\n'I wonder WHY it wouldn't do?' thought Alice, as she groped her way\namong the tables and chairs, for the shop was very dark towards the end.\n'The egg seems to get further away the more I walk towards it. Let me\nsee, is this a chair? Why, it's got branches, I declare! How very odd to\nfind trees growing here! And actually here's a little brook! Well, this\nis the very queerest shop I ever saw!'\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n\nSo she went on, wondering more and more at every step, as everything\nturned into a tree the moment she came up to it, and she quite expected\nthe egg to do the same.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. Humpty Dumpty\n\nHowever, the egg only got larger and larger, and more and more human:\nwhen she had come within a few yards of it, she saw that it had eyes\nand a nose and mouth; and when she had come close to it, she saw clearly\nthat it was HUMPTY DUMPTY himself. 'It can't be anybody else!' she said\nto herself. 'I'm as certain of it, as if his name were written all over\nhis face.'\n\nIt might have been written a hundred times, easily, on that enormous\nface. Humpty Dumpty was sitting with his legs crossed, like a Turk, on\nthe top of a high wall--such a narrow one that Alice quite wondered how\nhe could keep his balance--and, as his eyes were steadily fixed in the\nopposite direction, and he didn't take the least notice of her, she\nthought he must be a stuffed figure after all.\n\n'And how exactly like an egg he is!' she said aloud, standing with her\nhands ready to catch him, for she was every moment expecting him to\nfall.\n\n'It's VERY provoking,' Humpty Dumpty said after a long silence, looking\naway from Alice as he spoke, 'to be called an egg--VERY!'\n\n'I said you LOOKED like an egg, Sir,' Alice gently explained. 'And some\neggs are very pretty, you know' she added, hoping to turn her remark\ninto a sort of a compliment.\n\n'Some people,' said Humpty Dumpty, looking away from her as usual, 'have\nno more sense than a baby!'\n\nAlice didn't know what to say to this: it wasn't at all like\nconversation, she thought, as he never said anything to HER; in fact,\nhis last remark was evidently addressed to a tree--so she stood and\nsoftly repeated to herself:--\n\n\n     'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall:\n     Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.\n     All the King's horses and all the King's men\n     Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty in his place again.'\n\n\n'That last line is much too long for the poetry,' she added, almost out\nloud, forgetting that Humpty Dumpty would hear her.\n\n'Don't stand there chattering to yourself like that,' Humpty Dumpty\nsaid, looking at her for the first time, 'but tell me your name and your\nbusiness.'\n\n'My NAME is Alice, but--'\n\n'It's a stupid enough name!' Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently.\n'What does it mean?'\n\n'MUST a name mean something?' Alice asked doubtfully.\n\n'Of course it must,' Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh: 'MY name\nmeans the shape I am--and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name\nlike yours, you might be any shape, almost.'\n\n'Why do you sit out here all alone?' said Alice, not wishing to begin an\nargument.\n\n'Why, because there's nobody with me!' cried Humpty Dumpty. 'Did you\nthink I didn't know the answer to THAT? Ask another.'\n\n'Don't you think you'd be safer down on the ground?' Alice went on, not\nwith any idea of making another riddle, but simply in her good-natured\nanxiety for the queer creature. 'That wall is so VERY narrow!'\n\n'What tremendously easy riddles you ask!' Humpty Dumpty growled out. 'Of\ncourse I don't think so! Why, if ever I DID fall off--which there's no\nchance of--but IF I did--' Here he pursed up his lips and looked so solemn\nand grand that Alice could hardly help laughing. 'IF I did fall,' he\nwent on, 'THE KING HAS PROMISED ME--ah, you may turn pale, if you like!\nYou didn't think I was going to say that, did you? THE KING HAS PROMISED ME--\nWITH HIS VERY OWN MOUTH--to--to--'\n\n'To send all his horses and all his men,' Alice interrupted, rather\nunwisely.\n\n'Now I declare that's too bad!' Humpty Dumpty cried, breaking into a\nsudden passion. 'You've been listening at doors--and behind trees--and\ndown chimneys--or you couldn't have known it!'\n\n'I haven't, indeed!' Alice said very gently. 'It's in a book.'\n\n'Ah, well! They may write such things in a BOOK,' Humpty Dumpty said in\na calmer tone. 'That's what you call a History of England, that is.\nNow, take a good look at me! I'm one that has spoken to a King, _I_ am:\nmayhap you'll never see such another: and to show you I'm not proud, you\nmay shake hands with me!' And he grinned almost from ear to ear, as he\nleant forwards (and as nearly as possible fell off the wall in doing so)\nand offered Alice his hand. She watched him a little anxiously as she\ntook it. 'If he smiled much more, the ends of his mouth might meet\nbehind,' she thought: 'and then I don't know what would happen to his\nhead! I'm afraid it would come off!'\n\n'Yes, all his horses and all his men,' Humpty Dumpty went on. 'They'd\npick me up again in a minute, THEY would! However, this conversation is\ngoing on a little too fast: let's go back to the last remark but one.'\n\n'I'm afraid I can't quite remember it,' Alice said very politely.\n\n'In that case we start fresh,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'and it's my turn\nto choose a subject--' ('He talks about it just as if it was a game!'\nthought Alice.) 'So here's a question for you. How old did you say you\nwere?'\n\nAlice made a short calculation, and said 'Seven years and six months.'\n\n'Wrong!' Humpty Dumpty exclaimed triumphantly. 'You never said a word\nlike it!'\n\n'I though you meant \"How old ARE you?\"' Alice explained.\n\n'If I'd meant that, I'd have said it,' said Humpty Dumpty.\n\nAlice didn't want to begin another argument, so she said nothing.\n\n'Seven years and six months!' Humpty Dumpty repeated thoughtfully. 'An\nuncomfortable sort of age. Now if you'd asked MY advice, I'd have said\n\"Leave off at seven\"--but it's too late now.'\n\n'I never ask advice about growing,' Alice said indignantly.\n\n'Too proud?' the other inquired.\n\nAlice felt even more indignant at this suggestion. 'I mean,' she said,\n'that one can't help growing older.'\n\n'ONE can't, perhaps,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'but TWO can. With proper\nassistance, you might have left off at seven.'\n\n'What a beautiful belt you've got on!' Alice suddenly remarked.\n\n(They had had quite enough of the subject of age, she thought: and if\nthey really were to take turns in choosing subjects, it was her turn\nnow.) 'At least,' she corrected herself on second thoughts, 'a beautiful\ncravat, I should have said--no, a belt, I mean--I beg your pardon!' she\nadded in dismay, for Humpty Dumpty looked thoroughly offended, and she\nbegan to wish she hadn't chosen that subject. 'If I only knew,' she\nthought to herself, 'which was neck and which was waist!'\n\nEvidently Humpty Dumpty was very angry, though he said nothing for a\nminute or two. When he DID speak again, it was in a deep growl.\n\n'It is a--MOST--PROVOKING--thing,' he said at last, 'when a person\ndoesn't know a cravat from a belt!'\n\n'I know it's very ignorant of me,' Alice said, in so humble a tone that\nHumpty Dumpty relented.\n\n'It's a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say. It's a present\nfrom the White King and Queen. There now!'\n\n'Is it really?' said Alice, quite pleased to find that she HAD chosen a\ngood subject, after all.\n\n'They gave it me,' Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully, as he crossed\none knee over the other and clasped his hands round it, 'they gave it\nme--for an un-birthday present.'\n\n'I beg your pardon?' Alice said with a puzzled air.\n\n'I'm not offended,' said Humpty Dumpty.\n\n'I mean, what IS an un-birthday present?'\n\n'A present given when it isn't your birthday, of course.'\n\nAlice considered a little. 'I like birthday presents best,' she said at\nlast.\n\n'You don't know what you're talking about!' cried Humpty Dumpty. 'How\nmany days are there in a year?'\n\n'Three hundred and sixty-five,' said Alice.\n\n'And how many birthdays have you?'\n\n'One.'\n\n'And if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five, what remains?'\n\n'Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.'\n\nHumpty Dumpty looked doubtful. 'I'd rather see that done on paper,' he\nsaid.\n\nAlice couldn't help smiling as she took out her memorandum-book, and\nworked the sum for him:\n\n\n               365\n                1\n               ____\n\n               364\n               ___\n\nHumpty Dumpty took the book, and looked at it carefully. 'That seems to\nbe done right--' he began.\n\n'You're holding it upside down!' Alice interrupted.\n\n'To be sure I was!' Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round for\nhim. 'I thought it looked a little queer. As I was saying, that SEEMS\nto be done right--though I haven't time to look it over thoroughly just\nnow--and that shows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days\nwhen you might get un-birthday presents--'\n\n'Certainly,' said Alice.\n\n'And only ONE for birthday presents, you know. There's glory for you!'\n\n'I don't know what you mean by \"glory,\"' Alice said.\n\nHumpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. 'Of course you don't--till I tell\nyou. I meant \"there's a nice knock-down argument for you!\"'\n\n'But \"glory\" doesn't mean \"a nice knock-down argument,\"' Alice objected.\n\n'When _I_ use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, 'it\nmeans just what I choose it to mean--neither more nor less.'\n\n'The question is,' said Alice, 'whether you CAN make words mean so many\ndifferent things.'\n\n'The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'which is to be master--that's\nall.'\n\nAlice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty\nDumpty began again. 'They've a temper, some of them--particularly verbs,\nthey're the proudest--adjectives you can do anything with, but not\nverbs--however, _I_ can manage the whole lot of them! Impenetrability!\nThat's what _I_ say!'\n\n'Would you tell me, please,' said Alice 'what that means?'\n\n'Now you talk like a reasonable child,' said Humpty Dumpty, looking very\nmuch pleased. 'I meant by \"impenetrability\" that we've had enough of\nthat subject, and it would be just as well if you'd mention what you\nmean to do next, as I suppose you don't mean to stop here all the rest\nof your life.'\n\n'That's a great deal to make one word mean,' Alice said in a thoughtful\ntone.\n\n'When I make a word do a lot of work like that,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'I\nalways pay it extra.'\n\n'Oh!' said Alice. She was too much puzzled to make any other remark.\n\n'Ah, you should see 'em come round me of a Saturday night,' Humpty\nDumpty went on, wagging his head gravely from side to side: 'for to get\ntheir wages, you know.'\n\n(Alice didn't venture to ask what he paid them with; and so you see I\ncan't tell YOU.)\n\n'You seem very clever at explaining words, Sir,' said Alice. 'Would you\nkindly tell me the meaning of the poem called \"Jabberwocky\"?'\n\n'Let's hear it,' said Humpty Dumpty. 'I can explain all the poems that\nwere ever invented--and a good many that haven't been invented just\nyet.'\n\nThis sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse:\n\n     'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves\n      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;\n     All mimsy were the borogoves,\n      And the mome raths outgrabe.\n\n'That's enough to begin with,' Humpty Dumpty interrupted: 'there\nare plenty of hard words there. \"BRILLIG\" means four o'clock in the\nafternoon--the time when you begin BROILING things for dinner.'\n\n'That'll do very well,' said Alice: 'and \"SLITHY\"?'\n\n'Well, \"SLITHY\" means \"lithe and slimy.\" \"Lithe\" is the same as\n\"active.\" You see it's like a portmanteau--there are two meanings packed\nup into one word.'\n\n'I see it now,' Alice remarked thoughtfully: 'and what are \"TOVES\"?'\n\n'Well, \"TOVES\" are something like badgers--they're something like\nlizards--and they're something like corkscrews.'\n\n'They must be very curious looking creatures.'\n\n'They are that,' said Humpty Dumpty: 'also they make their nests under\nsun-dials--also they live on cheese.'\n\n'And what's the \"GYRE\" and to \"GIMBLE\"?'\n\n'To \"GYRE\" is to go round and round like a gyroscope. To \"GIMBLE\" is to\nmake holes like a gimlet.'\n\n'And \"THE WABE\" is the grass-plot round a sun-dial, I suppose?' said\nAlice, surprised at her own ingenuity.\n\n'Of course it is. It's called \"WABE,\" you know, because it goes a long\nway before it, and a long way behind it--'\n\n'And a long way beyond it on each side,' Alice added.\n\n'Exactly so. Well, then, \"MIMSY\" is \"flimsy and miserable\" (there's\nanother portmanteau for you). And a \"BOROGOVE\" is a thin shabby-looking\nbird with its feathers sticking out all round--something like a live\nmop.'\n\n'And then \"MOME RATHS\"?' said Alice. 'I'm afraid I'm giving you a great\ndeal of trouble.'\n\n'Well, a \"RATH\" is a sort of green pig: but \"MOME\" I'm not certain\nabout. I think it's short for \"from home\"--meaning that they'd lost\ntheir way, you know.'\n\n'And what does \"OUTGRABE\" mean?'\n\n'Well, \"OUTGRABING\" is something between bellowing and whistling, with a\nkind of sneeze in the middle: however, you'll hear it done, maybe--down\nin the wood yonder--and when you've once heard it you'll be QUITE\ncontent. Who's been repeating all that hard stuff to you?'\n\n'I read it in a book,' said Alice. 'But I had some poetry repeated to\nme, much easier than that, by--Tweedledee, I think it was.'\n\n'As to poetry, you know,' said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his\ngreat hands, '_I_ can repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes\nto that--'\n\n'Oh, it needn't come to that!' Alice hastily said, hoping to keep him\nfrom beginning.\n\n'The piece I'm going to repeat,' he went on without noticing her remark,\n'was written entirely for your amusement.'\n\nAlice felt that in that case she really OUGHT to listen to it, so she\nsat down, and said 'Thank you' rather sadly.\n\n\n     'In winter, when the fields are white,\n     I sing this song for your delight--\n\n\nonly I don't sing it,' he added, as an explanation.\n\n'I see you don't,' said Alice.\n\n'If you can SEE whether I'm singing or not, you've sharper eyes than\nmost.' Humpty Dumpty remarked severely. Alice was silent.\n\n\n     'In spring, when woods are getting green,\n     I'll try and tell you what I mean.'\n\n\n'Thank you very much,' said Alice.\n\n\n     'In summer, when the days are long,\n     Perhaps you'll understand the song:\n     In autumn, when the leaves are brown,\n     Take pen and ink, and write it down.'\n\n\n'I will, if I can remember it so long,' said Alice.\n\n'You needn't go on making remarks like that,' Humpty Dumpty said:\n'they're not sensible, and they put me out.'\n\n     'I sent a message to the fish:\n     I told them \"This is what I wish.\"\n\n     The little fishes of the sea,\n     They sent an answer back to me.\n\n     The little fishes' answer was\n     \"We cannot do it, Sir, because--\"'\n\n\n'I'm afraid I don't quite understand,' said Alice.\n\n'It gets easier further on,' Humpty Dumpty replied.\n\n\n     'I sent to them again to say\n     \"It will be better to obey.\"\n\n     The fishes answered with a grin,\n     \"Why, what a temper you are in!\"\n\n     I told them once, I told them twice:\n     They would not listen to advice.\n\n     I took a kettle large and new,\n     Fit for the deed I had to do.\n\n     My heart went hop, my heart went thump;\n     I filled the kettle at the pump.\n\n     Then some one came to me and said,\n     \"The little fishes are in bed.\"\n\n     I said to him, I said it plain,\n     \"Then you must wake them up again.\"\n\n     I said it very loud and clear;\n     I went and shouted in his ear.'\n\n\nHumpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this\nverse, and Alice thought with a shudder, 'I wouldn't have been the\nmessenger for ANYTHING!'\n\n\n     'But he was very stiff and proud;\n     He said \"You needn't shout so loud!\"\n\n     And he was very proud and stiff;\n     He said \"I'd go and wake them, if--\"\n\n     I took a corkscrew from the shelf:\n     I went to wake them up myself.\n\n     And when I found the door was locked,\n     I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked.\n\n     And when I found the door was shut,\n     I tried to turn the handle, but--'\n\n\nThere was a long pause.\n\n'Is that all?' Alice timidly asked.\n\n'That's all,' said Humpty Dumpty. 'Good-bye.'\n\nThis was rather sudden, Alice thought: but, after such a VERY strong\nhint that she ought to be going, she felt that it would hardly be civil\nto stay. So she got up, and held out her hand. 'Good-bye, till we meet\nagain!' she said as cheerfully as she could.\n\n'I shouldn't know you again if we DID meet,' Humpty Dumpty replied in\na discontented tone, giving her one of his fingers to shake; 'you're so\nexactly like other people.'\n\n'The face is what one goes by, generally,' Alice remarked in a\nthoughtful tone.\n\n'That's just what I complain of,' said Humpty Dumpty. 'Your face is the\nsame as everybody has--the two eyes, so--' (marking their places in the\nair with this thumb) 'nose in the middle, mouth under. It's always the\nsame. Now if you had the two eyes on the same side of the nose, for\ninstance--or the mouth at the top--that would be SOME help.'\n\n'It wouldn't look nice,' Alice objected. But Humpty Dumpty only shut his\neyes and said 'Wait till you've tried.'\n\nAlice waited a minute to see if he would speak again, but as he never\nopened his eyes or took any further notice of her, she said 'Good-bye!'\nonce more, and, getting no answer to this, she quietly walked away:\nbut she couldn't help saying to herself as she went, 'Of all the\nunsatisfactory--' (she repeated this aloud, as it was a great comfort to\nhave such a long word to say) 'of all the unsatisfactory people I EVER\nmet--' She never finished the sentence, for at this moment a heavy crash\nshook the forest from end to end.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. The Lion and the Unicorn\n\nThe next moment soldiers came running through the wood, at first in twos\nand threes, then ten or twenty together, and at last in such crowds that\nthey seemed to fill the whole forest. Alice got behind a tree, for fear\nof being run over, and watched them go by.\n\nShe thought that in all her life she had never seen soldiers so\nuncertain on their feet: they were always tripping over something or\nother, and whenever one went down, several more always fell over him, so\nthat the ground was soon covered with little heaps of men.\n\nThen came the horses. Having four feet, these managed rather better than\nthe foot-soldiers: but even THEY stumbled now and then; and it seemed\nto be a regular rule that, whenever a horse stumbled the rider fell off\ninstantly. The confusion got worse every moment, and Alice was very glad\nto get out of the wood into an open place, where she found the White\nKing seated on the ground, busily writing in his memorandum-book.\n\n'I've sent them all!' the King cried in a tone of delight, on seeing\nAlice. 'Did you happen to meet any soldiers, my dear, as you came\nthrough the wood?'\n\n'Yes, I did,' said Alice: 'several thousand, I should think.'\n\n'Four thousand two hundred and seven, that's the exact number,' the King\nsaid, referring to his book. 'I couldn't send all the horses, you know,\nbecause two of them are wanted in the game. And I haven't sent the two\nMessengers, either. They're both gone to the town. Just look along the\nroad, and tell me if you can see either of them.'\n\n'I see nobody on the road,' said Alice.\n\n'I only wish _I_ had such eyes,' the King remarked in a fretful tone.\n'To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it's as much\nas _I_ can do to see real people, by this light!'\n\nAll this was lost on Alice, who was still looking intently along\nthe road, shading her eyes with one hand. 'I see somebody now!' she\nexclaimed at last. 'But he's coming very slowly--and what curious\nattitudes he goes into!' (For the messenger kept skipping up and down,\nand wriggling like an eel, as he came along, with his great hands spread\nout like fans on each side.)\n\n'Not at all,' said the King. 'He's an Anglo-Saxon Messenger--and those\nare Anglo-Saxon attitudes. He only does them when he's happy. His name\nis Haigha.' (He pronounced it so as to rhyme with 'mayor.')\n\n'I love my love with an H,' Alice couldn't help beginning, 'because\nhe is Happy. I hate him with an H, because he is Hideous. I fed him\nwith--with--with Ham-sandwiches and Hay. His name is Haigha, and he\nlives--'\n\n'He lives on the Hill,' the King remarked simply, without the least idea\nthat he was joining in the game, while Alice was still hesitating for\nthe name of a town beginning with H. 'The other Messenger's called\nHatta. I must have TWO, you know--to come and go. One to come, and one\nto go.'\n\n'I beg your pardon?' said Alice.\n\n'It isn't respectable to beg,' said the King.\n\n'I only meant that I didn't understand,' said Alice. 'Why one to come\nand one to go?'\n\n'Didn't I tell you?' the King repeated impatiently. 'I must have Two--to\nfetch and carry. One to fetch, and one to carry.'\n\nAt this moment the Messenger arrived: he was far too much out of breath\nto say a word, and could only wave his hands about, and make the most\nfearful faces at the poor King.\n\n'This young lady loves you with an H,' the King said, introducing Alice\nin the hope of turning off the Messenger's attention from himself--but\nit was no use--the Anglo-Saxon attitudes only got more extraordinary\nevery moment, while the great eyes rolled wildly from side to side.\n\n'You alarm me!' said the King. 'I feel faint--Give me a ham sandwich!'\n\nOn which the Messenger, to Alice's great amusement, opened a bag that\nhung round his neck, and handed a sandwich to the King, who devoured it\ngreedily.\n\n'Another sandwich!' said the King.\n\n'There's nothing but hay left now,' the Messenger said, peeping into the\nbag.\n\n'Hay, then,' the King murmured in a faint whisper.\n\nAlice was glad to see that it revived him a good deal. 'There's nothing\nlike eating hay when you're faint,' he remarked to her, as he munched\naway.\n\n'I should think throwing cold water over you would be better,' Alice\nsuggested: 'or some sal-volatile.'\n\n'I didn't say there was nothing BETTER,' the King replied. 'I said there\nwas nothing LIKE it.' Which Alice did not venture to deny.\n\n'Who did you pass on the road?' the King went on, holding out his hand\nto the Messenger for some more hay.\n\n'Nobody,' said the Messenger.\n\n'Quite right,' said the King: 'this young lady saw him too. So of course\nNobody walks slower than you.'\n\n'I do my best,' the Messenger said in a sulky tone. 'I'm sure nobody\nwalks much faster than I do!'\n\n'He can't do that,' said the King, 'or else he'd have been here first.\nHowever, now you've got your breath, you may tell us what's happened in\nthe town.'\n\n'I'll whisper it,' said the Messenger, putting his hands to his mouth\nin the shape of a trumpet, and stooping so as to get close to the King's\near. Alice was sorry for this, as she wanted to hear the news too.\nHowever, instead of whispering, he simply shouted at the top of his\nvoice 'They're at it again!'\n\n'Do you call THAT a whisper?' cried the poor King, jumping up and\nshaking himself. 'If you do such a thing again, I'll have you buttered!\nIt went through and through my head like an earthquake!'\n\n'It would have to be a very tiny earthquake!' thought Alice. 'Who are at\nit again?' she ventured to ask.\n\n'Why the Lion and the Unicorn, of course,' said the King.\n\n'Fighting for the crown?'\n\n'Yes, to be sure,' said the King: 'and the best of the joke is, that\nit's MY crown all the while! Let's run and see them.' And they trotted\noff, Alice repeating to herself, as she ran, the words of the old\nsong:--\n\n\n   'The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the crown:\n   The Lion beat the Unicorn all round the town.\n   Some gave them white bread, some gave them brown;\n   Some gave them plum-cake and drummed them out of town.'\n\n\n'Does--the one--that wins--get the crown?' she asked, as well as she\ncould, for the run was putting her quite out of breath.\n\n'Dear me, no!' said the King. 'What an idea!'\n\n'Would you--be good enough,' Alice panted out, after running a little\nfurther, 'to stop a minute--just to get--one's breath again?'\n\n'I'm GOOD enough,' the King said, 'only I'm not strong enough. You see,\na minute goes by so fearfully quick. You might as well try to stop a\nBandersnatch!'\n\nAlice had no more breath for talking, so they trotted on in silence,\ntill they came in sight of a great crowd, in the middle of which the\nLion and Unicorn were fighting. They were in such a cloud of dust, that\nat first Alice could not make out which was which: but she soon managed\nto distinguish the Unicorn by his horn.\n\nThey placed themselves close to where Hatta, the other messenger, was\nstanding watching the fight, with a cup of tea in one hand and a piece\nof bread-and-butter in the other.\n\n'He's only just out of prison, and he hadn't finished his tea when\nhe was sent in,' Haigha whispered to Alice: 'and they only give them\noyster-shells in there--so you see he's very hungry and thirsty. How\nare you, dear child?' he went on, putting his arm affectionately round\nHatta's neck.\n\nHatta looked round and nodded, and went on with his bread and butter.\n\n'Were you happy in prison, dear child?' said Haigha.\n\nHatta looked round once more, and this time a tear or two trickled down\nhis cheek: but not a word would he say.\n\n'Speak, can't you!' Haigha cried impatiently. But Hatta only munched\naway, and drank some more tea.\n\n'Speak, won't you!' cried the King. 'How are they getting on with the\nfight?'\n\nHatta made a desperate effort, and swallowed a large piece of\nbread-and-butter. 'They're getting on very well,' he said in a choking\nvoice: 'each of them has been down about eighty-seven times.'\n\n'Then I suppose they'll soon bring the white bread and the brown?' Alice\nventured to remark.\n\n'It's waiting for 'em now,' said Hatta: 'this is a bit of it as I'm\neating.'\n\nThere was a pause in the fight just then, and the Lion and the Unicorn\nsat down, panting, while the King called out 'Ten minutes allowed for\nrefreshments!' Haigha and Hatta set to work at once, carrying rough\ntrays of white and brown bread. Alice took a piece to taste, but it was\nVERY dry.\n\n'I don't think they'll fight any more to-day,' the King said to Hatta:\n'go and order the drums to begin.' And Hatta went bounding away like a\ngrasshopper.\n\nFor a minute or two Alice stood silent, watching him. Suddenly she\nbrightened up. 'Look, look!' she cried, pointing eagerly. 'There's the\nWhite Queen running across the country! She came flying out of the wood\nover yonder--How fast those Queens CAN run!'\n\n'There's some enemy after her, no doubt,' the King said, without even\nlooking round. 'That wood's full of them.'\n\n'But aren't you going to run and help her?' Alice asked, very much\nsurprised at his taking it so quietly.\n\n'No use, no use!' said the King. 'She runs so fearfully quick. You might\nas well try to catch a Bandersnatch! But I'll make a memorandum about\nher, if you like--She's a dear good creature,' he repeated softly to\nhimself, as he opened his memorandum-book. 'Do you spell \"creature\" with\na double \"e\"?'\n\nAt this moment the Unicorn sauntered by them, with his hands in his\npockets. 'I had the best of it this time?' he said to the King, just\nglancing at him as he passed.\n\n'A little--a little,' the King replied, rather nervously. 'You shouldn't\nhave run him through with your horn, you know.'\n\n'It didn't hurt him,' the Unicorn said carelessly, and he was going\non, when his eye happened to fall upon Alice: he turned round rather\ninstantly, and stood for some time looking at her with an air of the\ndeepest disgust.\n\n'What--is--this?' he said at last.\n\n'This is a child!' Haigha replied eagerly, coming in front of Alice\nto introduce her, and spreading out both his hands towards her in an\nAnglo-Saxon attitude. 'We only found it to-day. It's as large as life,\nand twice as natural!'\n\n'I always thought they were fabulous monsters!' said the Unicorn. 'Is it\nalive?'\n\n'It can talk,' said Haigha, solemnly.\n\nThe Unicorn looked dreamily at Alice, and said 'Talk, child.'\n\nAlice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: 'Do\nyou know, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I never\nsaw one alive before!'\n\n'Well, now that we HAVE seen each other,' said the Unicorn, 'if you'll\nbelieve in me, I'll believe in you. Is that a bargain?'\n\n'Yes, if you like,' said Alice.\n\n'Come, fetch out the plum-cake, old man!' the Unicorn went on, turning\nfrom her to the King. 'None of your brown bread for me!'\n\n'Certainly--certainly!' the King muttered, and beckoned to Haigha. 'Open\nthe bag!' he whispered. 'Quick! Not that one--that's full of hay!'\n\nHaigha took a large cake out of the bag, and gave it to Alice to hold,\nwhile he got out a dish and carving-knife. How they all came out of it\nAlice couldn't guess. It was just like a conjuring-trick, she thought.\n\nThe Lion had joined them while this was going on: he looked very\ntired and sleepy, and his eyes were half shut. 'What's this!' he said,\nblinking lazily at Alice, and speaking in a deep hollow tone that\nsounded like the tolling of a great bell.\n\n'Ah, what IS it, now?' the Unicorn cried eagerly. 'You'll never guess!\n_I_ couldn't.'\n\nThe Lion looked at Alice wearily. 'Are you animal--vegetable--or\nmineral?' he said, yawning at every other word.\n\n'It's a fabulous monster!' the Unicorn cried out, before Alice could\nreply.\n\n'Then hand round the plum-cake, Monster,' the Lion said, lying down and\nputting his chin on his paws. 'And sit down, both of you,' (to the King\nand the Unicorn): 'fair play with the cake, you know!'\n\nThe King was evidently very uncomfortable at having to sit down between\nthe two great creatures; but there was no other place for him.\n\n'What a fight we might have for the crown, NOW!' the Unicorn said,\nlooking slyly up at the crown, which the poor King was nearly shaking\noff his head, he trembled so much.\n\n'I should win easy,' said the Lion.\n\n'I'm not so sure of that,' said the Unicorn.\n\n'Why, I beat you all round the town, you chicken!' the Lion replied\nangrily, half getting up as he spoke.\n\nHere the King interrupted, to prevent the quarrel going on: he was very\nnervous, and his voice quite quivered. 'All round the town?' he\nsaid. 'That's a good long way. Did you go by the old bridge, or the\nmarket-place? You get the best view by the old bridge.'\n\n'I'm sure I don't know,' the Lion growled out as he lay down again.\n'There was too much dust to see anything. What a time the Monster is,\ncutting up that cake!'\n\nAlice had seated herself on the bank of a little brook, with the great\ndish on her knees, and was sawing away diligently with the knife. 'It's\nvery provoking!' she said, in reply to the Lion (she was getting quite\nused to being called 'the Monster'). 'I've cut several slices already,\nbut they always join on again!'\n\n'You don't know how to manage Looking-glass cakes,' the Unicorn\nremarked. 'Hand it round first, and cut it afterwards.'\n\nThis sounded nonsense, but Alice very obediently got up, and carried the\ndish round, and the cake divided itself into three pieces as she did so.\n'NOW cut it up,' said the Lion, as she returned to her place with the\nempty dish.\n\n'I say, this isn't fair!' cried the Unicorn, as Alice sat with the knife\nin her hand, very much puzzled how to begin. 'The Monster has given the\nLion twice as much as me!'\n\n'She's kept none for herself, anyhow,' said the Lion. 'Do you like\nplum-cake, Monster?'\n\nBut before Alice could answer him, the drums began.\n\nWhere the noise came from, she couldn't make out: the air seemed full\nof it, and it rang through and through her head till she felt quite\ndeafened. She started to her feet and sprang across the little brook in\nher terror,\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\nand had just time to see the Lion and the Unicorn rise to their feet,\nwith angry looks at being interrupted in their feast, before she dropped\nto her knees, and put her hands over her ears, vainly trying to shut out\nthe dreadful uproar.\n\n'If THAT doesn't \"drum them out of town,\"' she thought to herself,\n'nothing ever will!'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. 'It's my own Invention'\n\nAfter a while the noise seemed gradually to die away, till all was dead\nsilence, and Alice lifted up her head in some alarm. There was no one\nto be seen, and her first thought was that she must have been dreaming\nabout the Lion and the Unicorn and those queer Anglo-Saxon Messengers.\nHowever, there was the great dish still lying at her feet, on which she\nhad tried to cut the plum-cake, 'So I wasn't dreaming, after all,' she\nsaid to herself, 'unless--unless we're all part of the same dream. Only\nI do hope it's MY dream, and not the Red King's! I don't like belonging\nto another person's dream,' she went on in a rather complaining tone:\n'I've a great mind to go and wake him, and see what happens!'\n\nAt this moment her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shouting of\n'Ahoy! Ahoy! Check!' and a Knight dressed in crimson armour came\ngalloping down upon her, brandishing a great club. Just as he reached\nher, the horse stopped suddenly: 'You're my prisoner!' the Knight cried,\nas he tumbled off his horse.\n\nStartled as she was, Alice was more frightened for him than for herself\nat the moment, and watched him with some anxiety as he mounted again.\nAs soon as he was comfortably in the saddle, he began once more 'You're\nmy--' but here another voice broke in 'Ahoy! Ahoy! Check!' and Alice\nlooked round in some surprise for the new enemy.\n\nThis time it was a White Knight. He drew up at Alice's side, and tumbled\noff his horse just as the Red Knight had done: then he got on again,\nand the two Knights sat and looked at each other for some time without\nspeaking. Alice looked from one to the other in some bewilderment.\n\n'She's MY prisoner, you know!' the Red Knight said at last.\n\n'Yes, but then _I_ came and rescued her!' the White Knight replied.\n\n'Well, we must fight for her, then,' said the Red Knight, as he took up\nhis helmet (which hung from the saddle, and was something the shape of a\nhorse's head), and put it on.\n\n'You will observe the Rules of Battle, of course?' the White Knight\nremarked, putting on his helmet too.\n\n'I always do,' said the Red Knight, and they began banging away at each\nother with such fury that Alice got behind a tree to be out of the way\nof the blows.\n\n'I wonder, now, what the Rules of Battle are,' she said to herself, as\nshe watched the fight, timidly peeping out from her hiding-place: 'one\nRule seems to be, that if one Knight hits the other, he knocks him off\nhis horse, and if he misses, he tumbles off himself--and another Rule\nseems to be that they hold their clubs with their arms, as if they were\nPunch and Judy--What a noise they make when they tumble! Just like\na whole set of fire-irons falling into the fender! And how quiet the\nhorses are! They let them get on and off them just as if they were\ntables!'\n\nAnother Rule of Battle, that Alice had not noticed, seemed to be that\nthey always fell on their heads, and the battle ended with their both\nfalling off in this way, side by side: when they got up again, they\nshook hands, and then the Red Knight mounted and galloped off.\n\n'It was a glorious victory, wasn't it?' said the White Knight, as he\ncame up panting.\n\n'I don't know,' Alice said doubtfully. 'I don't want to be anybody's\nprisoner. I want to be a Queen.'\n\n'So you will, when you've crossed the next brook,' said the White\nKnight. 'I'll see you safe to the end of the wood--and then I must go\nback, you know. That's the end of my move.'\n\n'Thank you very much,' said Alice. 'May I help you off with your\nhelmet?' It was evidently more than he could manage by himself; however,\nshe managed to shake him out of it at last.\n\n'Now one can breathe more easily,' said the Knight, putting back his\nshaggy hair with both hands, and turning his gentle face and large mild\neyes to Alice. She thought she had never seen such a strange-looking\nsoldier in all her life.\n\nHe was dressed in tin armour, which seemed to fit him very badly, and\nhe had a queer-shaped little deal box fastened across his shoulder,\nupside-down, and with the lid hanging open. Alice looked at it with\ngreat curiosity.\n\n'I see you're admiring my little box.' the Knight said in a friendly\ntone. 'It's my own invention--to keep clothes and sandwiches in. You see\nI carry it upside-down, so that the rain can't get in.'\n\n'But the things can get OUT,' Alice gently remarked. 'Do you know the\nlid's open?'\n\n'I didn't know it,' the Knight said, a shade of vexation passing over\nhis face. 'Then all the things must have fallen out! And the box is no\nuse without them.' He unfastened it as he spoke, and was just going to\nthrow it into the bushes, when a sudden thought seemed to strike him,\nand he hung it carefully on a tree. 'Can you guess why I did that?' he\nsaid to Alice.\n\nAlice shook her head.\n\n'In hopes some bees may make a nest in it--then I should get the honey.'\n\n'But you've got a bee-hive--or something like one--fastened to the\nsaddle,' said Alice.\n\n'Yes, it's a very good bee-hive,' the Knight said in a discontented\ntone, 'one of the best kind. But not a single bee has come near it yet.\nAnd the other thing is a mouse-trap. I suppose the mice keep the bees\nout--or the bees keep the mice out, I don't know which.'\n\n'I was wondering what the mouse-trap was for,' said Alice. 'It isn't\nvery likely there would be any mice on the horse's back.'\n\n'Not very likely, perhaps,' said the Knight: 'but if they DO come, I\ndon't choose to have them running all about.'\n\n'You see,' he went on after a pause, 'it's as well to be provided for\nEVERYTHING. That's the reason the horse has all those anklets round his\nfeet.'\n\n'But what are they for?' Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.\n\n'To guard against the bites of sharks,' the Knight replied. 'It's an\ninvention of my own. And now help me on. I'll go with you to the end of\nthe wood--What's the dish for?'\n\n'It's meant for plum-cake,' said Alice.\n\n'We'd better take it with us,' the Knight said. 'It'll come in handy if\nwe find any plum-cake. Help me to get it into this bag.'\n\nThis took a very long time to manage, though Alice held the bag open\nvery carefully, because the Knight was so VERY awkward in putting in\nthe dish: the first two or three times that he tried he fell in himself\ninstead. 'It's rather a tight fit, you see,' he said, as they got it in\na last; 'There are so many candlesticks in the bag.' And he hung it\nto the saddle, which was already loaded with bunches of carrots, and\nfire-irons, and many other things.\n\n'I hope you've got your hair well fastened on?' he continued, as they\nset off.\n\n'Only in the usual way,' Alice said, smiling.\n\n'That's hardly enough,' he said, anxiously. 'You see the wind is so VERY\nstrong here. It's as strong as soup.'\n\n'Have you invented a plan for keeping the hair from being blown off?'\nAlice enquired.\n\n'Not yet,' said the Knight. 'But I've got a plan for keeping it from\nFALLING off.'\n\n'I should like to hear it, very much.'\n\n'First you take an upright stick,' said the Knight. 'Then you make your\nhair creep up it, like a fruit-tree. Now the reason hair falls off is\nbecause it hangs DOWN--things never fall UPWARDS, you know. It's a plan\nof my own invention. You may try it if you like.'\n\nIt didn't sound a comfortable plan, Alice thought, and for a few minutes\nshe walked on in silence, puzzling over the idea, and every now and then\nstopping to help the poor Knight, who certainly was NOT a good rider.\n\nWhenever the horse stopped (which it did very often), he fell off in\nfront; and whenever it went on again (which it generally did rather\nsuddenly), he fell off behind. Otherwise he kept on pretty well, except\nthat he had a habit of now and then falling off sideways; and as he\ngenerally did this on the side on which Alice was walking, she soon\nfound that it was the best plan not to walk QUITE close to the horse.\n\n'I'm afraid you've not had much practice in riding,' she ventured to\nsay, as she was helping him up from his fifth tumble.\n\nThe Knight looked very much surprised, and a little offended at the\nremark. 'What makes you say that?' he asked, as he scrambled back into\nthe saddle, keeping hold of Alice's hair with one hand, to save himself\nfrom falling over on the other side.\n\n'Because people don't fall off quite so often, when they've had much\npractice.'\n\n'I've had plenty of practice,' the Knight said very gravely: 'plenty of\npractice!'\n\nAlice could think of nothing better to say than 'Indeed?' but she said\nit as heartily as she could. They went on a little way in silence after\nthis, the Knight with his eyes shut, muttering to himself, and Alice\nwatching anxiously for the next tumble.\n\n'The great art of riding,' the Knight suddenly began in a loud voice,\nwaving his right arm as he spoke, 'is to keep--' Here the sentence ended\nas suddenly as it had begun, as the Knight fell heavily on the top of\nhis head exactly in the path where Alice was walking. She was quite\nfrightened this time, and said in an anxious tone, as she picked him up,\n'I hope no bones are broken?'\n\n'None to speak of,' the Knight said, as if he didn't mind breaking two\nor three of them. 'The great art of riding, as I was saying, is--to keep\nyour balance properly. Like this, you know--'\n\nHe let go the bridle, and stretched out both his arms to show Alice\nwhat he meant, and this time he fell flat on his back, right under the\nhorse's feet.\n\n'Plenty of practice!' he went on repeating, all the time that Alice was\ngetting him on his feet again. 'Plenty of practice!'\n\n'It's too ridiculous!' cried Alice, losing all her patience this time.\n'You ought to have a wooden horse on wheels, that you ought!'\n\n'Does that kind go smoothly?' the Knight asked in a tone of great\ninterest, clasping his arms round the horse's neck as he spoke, just in\ntime to save himself from tumbling off again.\n\n'Much more smoothly than a live horse,' Alice said, with a little scream\nof laughter, in spite of all she could do to prevent it.\n\n'I'll get one,' the Knight said thoughtfully to himself. 'One or\ntwo--several.'\n\nThere was a short silence after this, and then the Knight went on again.\n'I'm a great hand at inventing things. Now, I daresay you noticed, that\nlast time you picked me up, that I was looking rather thoughtful?'\n\n'You WERE a little grave,' said Alice.\n\n'Well, just then I was inventing a new way of getting over a gate--would\nyou like to hear it?'\n\n'Very much indeed,' Alice said politely.\n\n'I'll tell you how I came to think of it,' said the Knight. 'You see, I\nsaid to myself, \"The only difficulty is with the feet: the HEAD is high\nenough already.\" Now, first I put my head on the top of the gate--then I\nstand on my head--then the feet are high enough, you see--then I'm over,\nyou see.'\n\n'Yes, I suppose you'd be over when that was done,' Alice said\nthoughtfully: 'but don't you think it would be rather hard?'\n\n'I haven't tried it yet,' the Knight said, gravely: 'so I can't tell for\ncertain--but I'm afraid it WOULD be a little hard.'\n\nHe looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the subject hastily.\n'What a curious helmet you've got!' she said cheerfully. 'Is that your\ninvention too?'\n\nThe Knight looked down proudly at his helmet, which hung from the\nsaddle. 'Yes,' he said, 'but I've invented a better one than that--like\na sugar loaf. When I used to wear it, if I fell off the horse, it always\ntouched the ground directly. So I had a VERY little way to fall, you\nsee--But there WAS the danger of falling INTO it, to be sure. That\nhappened to me once--and the worst of it was, before I could get out\nagain, the other White Knight came and put it on. He thought it was his\nown helmet.'\n\nThe knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did not dare to laugh.\n'I'm afraid you must have hurt him,' she said in a trembling voice,\n'being on the top of his head.'\n\n'I had to kick him, of course,' the Knight said, very seriously. 'And\nthen he took the helmet off again--but it took hours and hours to get me\nout. I was as fast as--as lightning, you know.'\n\n'But that's a different kind of fastness,' Alice objected.\n\nThe Knight shook his head. 'It was all kinds of fastness with me, I can\nassure you!' he said. He raised his hands in some excitement as he said\nthis, and instantly rolled out of the saddle, and fell headlong into a\ndeep ditch.\n\nAlice ran to the side of the ditch to look for him. She was rather\nstartled by the fall, as for some time he had kept on very well, and she\nwas afraid that he really WAS hurt this time. However, though she could\nsee nothing but the soles of his feet, she was much relieved to hear\nthat he was talking on in his usual tone. 'All kinds of fastness,'\nhe repeated: 'but it was careless of him to put another man's helmet\non--with the man in it, too.'\n\n'How CAN you go on talking so quietly, head downwards?' Alice asked, as\nshe dragged him out by the feet, and laid him in a heap on the bank.\n\nThe Knight looked surprised at the question. 'What does it matter where\nmy body happens to be?' he said. 'My mind goes on working all the same.\nIn fact, the more head downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new\nthings.'\n\n'Now the cleverest thing of the sort that I ever did,' he went on after\na pause, 'was inventing a new pudding during the meat-course.'\n\n'In time to have it cooked for the next course?' said Alice. 'Well,\nnot the NEXT course,' the Knight said in a slow thoughtful tone: 'no,\ncertainly not the next COURSE.'\n\n'Then it would have to be the next day. I suppose you wouldn't have two\npudding-courses in one dinner?'\n\n'Well, not the NEXT day,' the Knight repeated as before: 'not the next\nDAY. In fact,' he went on, holding his head down, and his voice getting\nlower and lower, 'I don't believe that pudding ever WAS cooked! In fact,\nI don't believe that pudding ever WILL be cooked! And yet it was a very\nclever pudding to invent.'\n\n'What did you mean it to be made of?' Alice asked, hoping to cheer him\nup, for the poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.\n\n'It began with blotting paper,' the Knight answered with a groan.\n\n'That wouldn't be very nice, I'm afraid--'\n\n'Not very nice ALONE,' he interrupted, quite eagerly: 'but you've no\nidea what a difference it makes mixing it with other things--such as\ngunpowder and sealing-wax. And here I must leave you.' They had just\ncome to the end of the wood.\n\nAlice could only look puzzled: she was thinking of the pudding.\n\n'You are sad,' the Knight said in an anxious tone: 'let me sing you a\nsong to comfort you.'\n\n'Is it very long?' Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry\nthat day.\n\n'It's long,' said the Knight, 'but very, VERY beautiful. Everybody that\nhears me sing it--either it brings the TEARS into their eyes, or else--'\n\n'Or else what?' said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.\n\n'Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called \"HADDOCKS'\nEYES.\"'\n\n'Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?' Alice said, trying to feel\ninterested.\n\n'No, you don't understand,' the Knight said, looking a little vexed.\n'That's what the name is CALLED. The name really IS \"THE AGED AGED\nMAN.\"'\n\n'Then I ought to have said \"That's what the SONG is called\"?' Alice\ncorrected herself.\n\n'No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The SONG is called \"WAYS\nAND MEANS\": but that's only what it's CALLED, you know!'\n\n'Well, what IS the song, then?' said Alice, who was by this time\ncompletely bewildered.\n\n'I was coming to that,' the Knight said. 'The song really IS \"A-SITTING\nON A GATE\": and the tune's my own invention.'\n\nSo saying, he stopped his horse and let the reins fall on its neck:\nthen, slowly beating time with one hand, and with a faint smile lighting\nup his gentle foolish face, as if he enjoyed the music of his song, he\nbegan.\n\nOf all the strange things that Alice saw in her journey Through The\nLooking-Glass, this was the one that she always remembered most clearly.\nYears afterwards she could bring the whole scene back again, as if it\nhad been only yesterday--the mild blue eyes and kindly smile of the\nKnight--the setting sun gleaming through his hair, and shining on his\narmour in a blaze of light that quite dazzled her--the horse quietly\nmoving about, with the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the\ngrass at her feet--and the black shadows of the forest behind--all this\nshe took in like a picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes, she\nleant against a tree, watching the strange pair, and listening, in a\nhalf dream, to the melancholy music of the song.\n\n'But the tune ISN'T his own invention,' she said to herself: 'it's \"I\nGIVE THEE ALL, I CAN NO MORE.\"' She stood and listened very attentively,\nbut no tears came into her eyes.\n\n\n     'I'll tell thee everything I can;\n      There's little to relate.\n     I saw an aged aged man,\n      A-sitting on a gate.\n     \"Who are you, aged man?\" I said,\n      \"and how is it you live?\"\n     And his answer trickled through my head\n      Like water through a sieve.\n\n     He said \"I look for butterflies\n      That sleep among the wheat:\n     I make them into mutton-pies,\n      And sell them in the street.\n     I sell them unto men,\" he said,\n      \"Who sail on stormy seas;\n     And that's the way I get my bread--\n      A trifle, if you please.\"\n\n     But I was thinking of a plan\n      To dye one's whiskers green,\n     And always use so large a fan\n      That they could not be seen.\n     So, having no reply to give\n      To what the old man said,\n     I cried, \"Come, tell me how you live!\"\n      And thumped him on the head.\n\n     His accents mild took up the tale:\n      He said \"I go my ways,\n     And when I find a mountain-rill,\n      I set it in a blaze;\n     And thence they make a stuff they call\n      Rolands' Macassar Oil--\n     Yet twopence-halfpenny is all\n      They give me for my toil.\"\n\n     But I was thinking of a way\n      To feed oneself on batter,\n     And so go on from day to day\n      Getting a little fatter.\n     I shook him well from side to side,\n      Until his face was blue:\n     \"Come, tell me how you live,\" I cried,\n      \"And what it is you do!\"\n\n     He said \"I hunt for haddocks' eyes\n      Among the heather bright,\n     And work them into waistcoat-buttons\n      In the silent night.\n     And these I do not sell for gold\n      Or coin of silvery shine\n     But for a copper halfpenny,\n      And that will purchase nine.\n\n     \"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,\n      Or set limed twigs for crabs;\n     I sometimes search the grassy knolls\n      For wheels of Hansom-cabs.\n     And that's the way\" (he gave a wink)\n      \"By which I get my wealth--\n     And very gladly will I drink\n      Your Honour's noble health.\"\n\n     I heard him then, for I had just\n      Completed my design\n     To keep the Menai bridge from rust\n      By boiling it in wine.\n     I thanked him much for telling me\n      The way he got his wealth,\n     But chiefly for his wish that he\n      Might drink my noble health.\n\n     And now, if e'er by chance I put\n      My fingers into glue\n     Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot\n      Into a left-hand shoe,\n     Or if I drop upon my toe\n      A very heavy weight,\n     I weep, for it reminds me so,\n      Of that old man I used to know--\n\n     Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,\n     Whose hair was whiter than the snow,\n     Whose face was very like a crow,\n     With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,\n     Who seemed distracted with his woe,\n     Who rocked his body to and fro,\n     And muttered mumblingly and low,\n     As if his mouth were full of dough,\n     Who snorted like a buffalo--\n     That summer evening, long ago,\n      A-sitting on a gate.'\n\n\nAs the Knight sang the last words of the ballad, he gathered up the\nreins, and turned his horse's head along the road by which they had\ncome. 'You've only a few yards to go,' he said, 'down the hill and over\nthat little brook, and then you'll be a Queen--But you'll stay and\nsee me off first?' he added as Alice turned with an eager look in the\ndirection to which he pointed. 'I shan't be long. You'll wait and wave\nyour handkerchief when I get to that turn in the road? I think it'll\nencourage me, you see.'\n\n'Of course I'll wait,' said Alice: 'and thank you very much for coming\nso far--and for the song--I liked it very much.'\n\n'I hope so,' the Knight said doubtfully: 'but you didn't cry so much as\nI thought you would.'\n\nSo they shook hands, and then the Knight rode slowly away into the\nforest. 'It won't take long to see him OFF, I expect,' Alice said to\nherself, as she stood watching him. 'There he goes! Right on his head as\nusual! However, he gets on again pretty easily--that comes of having so\nmany things hung round the horse--' So she went on talking to herself,\nas she watched the horse walking leisurely along the road, and the\nKnight tumbling off, first on one side and then on the other. After\nthe fourth or fifth tumble he reached the turn, and then she waved her\nhandkerchief to him, and waited till he was out of sight.\n\n'I hope it encouraged him,' she said, as she turned to run down the\nhill: 'and now for the last brook, and to be a Queen! How grand it\nsounds!' A very few steps brought her to the edge of the brook. 'The\nEighth Square at last!' she cried as she bounded across,\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\nand threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss, with little\nflower-beds dotted about it here and there. 'Oh, how glad I am to get\nhere! And what IS this on my head?' she exclaimed in a tone of dismay,\nas she put her hands up to something very heavy, and fitted tight all\nround her head.\n\n'But how CAN it have got there without my knowing it?' she said to\nherself, as she lifted it off, and set it on her lap to make out what it\ncould possibly be.\n\nIt was a golden crown.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. Queen Alice\n\n'Well, this IS grand!' said Alice. 'I never expected I should be a Queen\nso soon--and I'll tell you what it is, your majesty,' she went on in\na severe tone (she was always rather fond of scolding herself), 'it'll\nnever do for you to be lolling about on the grass like that! Queens have\nto be dignified, you know!'\n\nSo she got up and walked about--rather stiffly just at first, as she was\nafraid that the crown might come off: but she comforted herself with the\nthought that there was nobody to see her, 'and if I really am a Queen,'\nshe said as she sat down again, 'I shall be able to manage it quite well\nin time.'\n\nEverything was happening so oddly that she didn't feel a bit surprised\nat finding the Red Queen and the White Queen sitting close to her, one\non each side: she would have liked very much to ask them how they came\nthere, but she feared it would not be quite civil. However, there would\nbe no harm, she thought, in asking if the game was over. 'Please, would\nyou tell me--' she began, looking timidly at the Red Queen.\n\n'Speak when you're spoken to!' The Queen sharply interrupted her.\n\n'But if everybody obeyed that rule,' said Alice, who was always ready\nfor a little argument, 'and if you only spoke when you were spoken to,\nand the other person always waited for YOU to begin, you see nobody\nwould ever say anything, so that--'\n\n'Ridiculous!' cried the Queen. 'Why, don't you see, child--' here she\nbroke off with a frown, and, after thinking for a minute, suddenly\nchanged the subject of the conversation. 'What do you mean by \"If you\nreally are a Queen\"? What right have you to call yourself so? You can't\nbe a Queen, you know, till you've passed the proper examination. And the\nsooner we begin it, the better.'\n\n'I only said \"if\"!' poor Alice pleaded in a piteous tone.\n\nThe two Queens looked at each other, and the Red Queen remarked, with a\nlittle shudder, 'She SAYS she only said \"if\"--'\n\n'But she said a great deal more than that!' the White Queen moaned,\nwringing her hands. 'Oh, ever so much more than that!'\n\n'So you did, you know,' the Red Queen said to Alice. 'Always speak the\ntruth--think before you speak--and write it down afterwards.'\n\n'I'm sure I didn't mean--' Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen\ninterrupted her impatiently.\n\n'That's just what I complain of! You SHOULD have meant! What do you\nsuppose is the use of child without any meaning? Even a joke should\nhave some meaning--and a child's more important than a joke, I hope. You\ncouldn't deny that, even if you tried with both hands.'\n\n'I don't deny things with my HANDS,' Alice objected.\n\n'Nobody said you did,' said the Red Queen. 'I said you couldn't if you\ntried.'\n\n'She's in that state of mind,' said the White Queen, 'that she wants to\ndeny SOMETHING--only she doesn't know what to deny!'\n\n'A nasty, vicious temper,' the Red Queen remarked; and then there was an\nuncomfortable silence for a minute or two.\n\nThe Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, 'I invite\nyou to Alice's dinner-party this afternoon.'\n\nThe White Queen smiled feebly, and said 'And I invite YOU.'\n\n'I didn't know I was to have a party at all,' said Alice; 'but if there\nis to be one, I think _I_ ought to invite the guests.'\n\n'We gave you the opportunity of doing it,' the Red Queen remarked: 'but\nI daresay you've not had many lessons in manners yet?'\n\n'Manners are not taught in lessons,' said Alice. 'Lessons teach you to\ndo sums, and things of that sort.'\n\n'And you do Addition?' the White Queen asked. 'What's one and one and\none and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?'\n\n'I don't know,' said Alice. 'I lost count.'\n\n'She can't do Addition,' the Red Queen interrupted. 'Can you do\nSubtraction? Take nine from eight.'\n\n'Nine from eight I can't, you know,' Alice replied very readily: 'but--'\n\n'She can't do Subtraction,' said the White Queen. 'Can you do Division?\nDivide a loaf by a knife--what's the answer to that?'\n\n'I suppose--' Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her.\n'Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone\nfrom a dog: what remains?'\n\nAlice considered. 'The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took\nit--and the dog wouldn't remain; it would come to bite me--and I'm sure\nI shouldn't remain!'\n\n'Then you think nothing would remain?' said the Red Queen.\n\n'I think that's the answer.'\n\n'Wrong, as usual,' said the Red Queen: 'the dog's temper would remain.'\n\n'But I don't see how--'\n\n'Why, look here!' the Red Queen cried. 'The dog would lose its temper,\nwouldn't it?'\n\n'Perhaps it would,' Alice replied cautiously.\n\n'Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!' the Queen\nexclaimed triumphantly.\n\nAlice said, as gravely as she could, 'They might go different ways.' But\nshe couldn't help thinking to herself, 'What dreadful nonsense we ARE\ntalking!'\n\n'She can't do sums a BIT!' the Queens said together, with great\nemphasis.\n\n'Can YOU do sums?' Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen, for\nshe didn't like being found fault with so much.\n\nThe Queen gasped and shut her eyes. 'I can do Addition, if you give me\ntime--but I can't do Subtraction, under ANY circumstances!'\n\n'Of course you know your A B C?' said the Red Queen.\n\n'To be sure I do.' said Alice.\n\n'So do I,' the White Queen whispered: 'we'll often say it over together,\ndear. And I'll tell you a secret--I can read words of one letter! Isn't\nTHAT grand! However, don't be discouraged. You'll come to it in time.'\n\nHere the Red Queen began again. 'Can you answer useful questions?' she\nsaid. 'How is bread made?'\n\n'I know THAT!' Alice cried eagerly. 'You take some flour--'\n\n'Where do you pick the flower?' the White Queen asked. 'In a garden, or\nin the hedges?'\n\n'Well, it isn't PICKED at all,' Alice explained: 'it's GROUND--'\n\n'How many acres of ground?' said the White Queen. 'You mustn't leave out\nso many things.'\n\n'Fan her head!' the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. 'She'll be feverish\nafter so much thinking.' So they set to work and fanned her with bunches\nof leaves, till she had to beg them to leave off, it blew her hair about\nso.\n\n'She's all right again now,' said the Red Queen. 'Do you know Languages?\nWhat's the French for fiddle-de-dee?'\n\n'Fiddle-de-dee's not English,' Alice replied gravely.\n\n'Who ever said it was?' said the Red Queen.\n\nAlice thought she saw a way out of the difficulty this time. 'If you'll\ntell me what language \"fiddle-de-dee\" is, I'll tell you the French for\nit!' she exclaimed triumphantly.\n\nBut the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said 'Queens never\nmake bargains.'\n\n'I wish Queens never asked questions,' Alice thought to herself.\n\n'Don't let us quarrel,' the White Queen said in an anxious tone. 'What\nis the cause of lightning?'\n\n'The cause of lightning,' Alice said very decidedly, for she felt quite\ncertain about this, 'is the thunder--no, no!' she hastily corrected\nherself. 'I meant the other way.'\n\n'It's too late to correct it,' said the Red Queen: 'when you've once\nsaid a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences.'\n\n'Which reminds me--' the White Queen said, looking down and nervously\nclasping and unclasping her hands, 'we had SUCH a thunderstorm last\nTuesday--I mean one of the last set of Tuesdays, you know.'\n\nAlice was puzzled. 'In OUR country,' she remarked, 'there's only one day\nat a time.'\n\nThe Red Queen said, 'That's a poor thin way of doing things. Now HERE,\nwe mostly have days and nights two or three at a time, and sometimes\nin the winter we take as many as five nights together--for warmth, you\nknow.'\n\n'Are five nights warmer than one night, then?' Alice ventured to ask.\n\n'Five times as warm, of course.'\n\n'But they should be five times as COLD, by the same rule--'\n\n'Just so!' cried the Red Queen. 'Five times as warm, AND five times\nas cold--just as I'm five times as rich as you are, AND five times as\nclever!'\n\nAlice sighed and gave it up. 'It's exactly like a riddle with no\nanswer!' she thought.\n\n'Humpty Dumpty saw it too,' the White Queen went on in a low voice, more\nas if she were talking to herself. 'He came to the door with a corkscrew\nin his hand--'\n\n'What did he want?' said the Red Queen.\n\n'He said he WOULD come in,' the White Queen went on, 'because he was\nlooking for a hippopotamus. Now, as it happened, there wasn't such a\nthing in the house, that morning.'\n\n'Is there generally?' Alice asked in an astonished tone.\n\n'Well, only on Thursdays,' said the Queen.\n\n'I know what he came for,' said Alice: 'he wanted to punish the fish,\nbecause--'\n\nHere the White Queen began again. 'It was SUCH a thunderstorm, you can't\nthink!' ('She NEVER could, you know,' said the Red Queen.) 'And part of\nthe roof came off, and ever so much thunder got in--and it went\nrolling round the room in great lumps--and knocking over the tables and\nthings--till I was so frightened, I couldn't remember my own name!'\n\nAlice thought to herself, 'I never should TRY to remember my name in the\nmiddle of an accident! Where would be the use of it?' but she did not\nsay this aloud, for fear of hurting the poor Queen's feeling.\n\n'Your Majesty must excuse her,' the Red Queen said to Alice, taking\none of the White Queen's hands in her own, and gently stroking it:\n'she means well, but she can't help saying foolish things, as a general\nrule.'\n\nThe White Queen looked timidly at Alice, who felt she OUGHT to say\nsomething kind, but really couldn't think of anything at the moment.\n\n'She never was really well brought up,' the Red Queen went on: 'but\nit's amazing how good-tempered she is! Pat her on the head, and see how\npleased she'll be!' But this was more than Alice had courage to do.\n\n'A little kindness--and putting her hair in papers--would do wonders\nwith her--'\n\nThe White Queen gave a deep sigh, and laid her head on Alice's shoulder.\n'I AM so sleepy?' she moaned.\n\n'She's tired, poor thing!' said the Red Queen. 'Smooth her hair--lend\nher your nightcap--and sing her a soothing lullaby.'\n\n'I haven't got a nightcap with me,' said Alice, as she tried to obey the\nfirst direction: 'and I don't know any soothing lullabies.'\n\n'I must do it myself, then,' said the Red Queen, and she began:\n\n\n   'Hush-a-by lady, in Alice's lap!\n   Till the feast's ready, we've time for a nap:\n   When the feast's over, we'll go to the ball--\n   Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!\n\n\n'And now you know the words,' she added, as she put her head down on\nAlice's other shoulder, 'just sing it through to ME. I'm getting sleepy,\ntoo.' In another moment both Queens were fast asleep, and snoring loud.\n\n'What AM I to do?' exclaimed Alice, looking about in great perplexity,\nas first one round head, and then the other, rolled down from her\nshoulder, and lay like a heavy lump in her lap. 'I don't think it EVER\nhappened before, that any one had to take care of two Queens asleep\nat once! No, not in all the History of England--it couldn't, you know,\nbecause there never was more than one Queen at a time. Do wake up, you\nheavy things!' she went on in an impatient tone; but there was no answer\nbut a gentle snoring.\n\nThe snoring got more distinct every minute, and sounded more like a\ntune: at last she could even make out the words, and she listened so\neagerly that, when the two great heads vanished from her lap, she hardly\nmissed them.\n\nShe was standing before an arched doorway over which were the words\nQUEEN ALICE in large letters, and on each side of the arch there was a\nbell-handle; one was marked 'Visitors' Bell,' and the other 'Servants'\nBell.'\n\n'I'll wait till the song's over,' thought Alice, 'and then I'll\nring--the--WHICH bell must I ring?' she went on, very much puzzled by\nthe names. 'I'm not a visitor, and I'm not a servant. There OUGHT to be\none marked \"Queen,\" you know--'\n\nJust then the door opened a little way, and a creature with a long beak\nput its head out for a moment and said 'No admittance till the week\nafter next!' and shut the door again with a bang.\n\nAlice knocked and rang in vain for a long time, but at last, a very old\nFrog, who was sitting under a tree, got up and hobbled slowly towards\nher: he was dressed in bright yellow, and had enormous boots on.\n\n'What is it, now?' the Frog said in a deep hoarse whisper.\n\nAlice turned round, ready to find fault with anybody. 'Where's the\nservant whose business it is to answer the door?' she began angrily.\n\n'Which door?' said the Frog.\n\nAlice almost stamped with irritation at the slow drawl in which he\nspoke. 'THIS door, of course!'\n\nThe Frog looked at the door with his large dull eyes for a minute:\nthen he went nearer and rubbed it with his thumb, as if he were trying\nwhether the paint would come off; then he looked at Alice.\n\n'To answer the door?' he said. 'What's it been asking of?' He was so\nhoarse that Alice could scarcely hear him.\n\n'I don't know what you mean,' she said.\n\n'I talks English, doesn't I?' the Frog went on. 'Or are you deaf? What\ndid it ask you?'\n\n'Nothing!' Alice said impatiently. 'I've been knocking at it!'\n\n'Shouldn't do that--shouldn't do that--' the Frog muttered. 'Vexes it,\nyou know.' Then he went up and gave the door a kick with one of his\ngreat feet. 'You let IT alone,' he panted out, as he hobbled back to his\ntree, 'and it'll let YOU alone, you know.'\n\nAt this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard\nsinging:\n\n\n   'To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said,\n   \"I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head;\n   Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be,\n   Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me.\"'\n\n\nAnd hundreds of voices joined in the chorus:\n\n\n  'Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,\n  And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:\n  Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea--\n  And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!'\n\n\nThen followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to\nherself, 'Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one's\ncounting?' In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill\nvoice sang another verse;\n\n\n  '\"O Looking-Glass creatures,\" quoth Alice, \"draw near!\n  'Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:\n  'Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea\n  Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!\"'\n\n\nThen came the chorus again:--\n\n\n  'Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,\n  Or anything else that is pleasant to drink:\n  Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine--\n  And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!'\n\n\n'Ninety times nine!' Alice repeated in despair, 'Oh, that'll never\nbe done! I'd better go in at once--' and there was a dead silence the\nmoment she appeared.\n\nAlice glanced nervously along the table, as she walked up the large\nhall, and noticed that there were about fifty guests, of all kinds: some\nwere animals, some birds, and there were even a few flowers among them.\n'I'm glad they've come without waiting to be asked,' she thought: 'I\nshould never have known who were the right people to invite!'\n\nThere were three chairs at the head of the table; the Red and White\nQueens had already taken two of them, but the middle one was empty.\nAlice sat down in it, rather uncomfortable in the silence, and longing\nfor some one to speak.\n\nAt last the Red Queen began. 'You've missed the soup and fish,' she\nsaid. 'Put on the joint!' And the waiters set a leg of mutton before\nAlice, who looked at it rather anxiously, as she had never had to carve\na joint before.\n\n'You look a little shy; let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,'\nsaid the Red Queen. 'Alice--Mutton; Mutton--Alice.' The leg of mutton\ngot up in the dish and made a little bow to Alice; and Alice returned\nthe bow, not knowing whether to be frightened or amused.\n\n'May I give you a slice?' she said, taking up the knife and fork, and\nlooking from one Queen to the other.\n\n'Certainly not,' the Red Queen said, very decidedly: 'it isn't etiquette\nto cut any one you've been introduced to. Remove the joint!' And the\nwaiters carried it off, and brought a large plum-pudding in its place.\n\n'I won't be introduced to the pudding, please,' Alice said rather\nhastily, 'or we shall get no dinner at all. May I give you some?'\n\nBut the Red Queen looked sulky, and growled 'Pudding--Alice;\nAlice--Pudding. Remove the pudding!' and the waiters took it away so\nquickly that Alice couldn't return its bow.\n\nHowever, she didn't see why the Red Queen should be the only one to give\norders, so, as an experiment, she called out 'Waiter! Bring back the\npudding!' and there it was again in a moment like a conjuring-trick. It\nwas so large that she couldn't help feeling a LITTLE shy with it, as she\nhad been with the mutton; however, she conquered her shyness by a great\neffort and cut a slice and handed it to the Red Queen.\n\n'What impertinence!' said the Pudding. 'I wonder how you'd like it, if I\nwere to cut a slice out of YOU, you creature!'\n\nIt spoke in a thick, suety sort of voice, and Alice hadn't a word to say\nin reply: she could only sit and look at it and gasp.\n\n'Make a remark,' said the Red Queen: 'it's ridiculous to leave all the\nconversation to the pudding!'\n\n'Do you know, I've had such a quantity of poetry repeated to me to-day,'\nAlice began, a little frightened at finding that, the moment she opened\nher lips, there was dead silence, and all eyes were fixed upon her; 'and\nit's a very curious thing, I think--every poem was about fishes in some\nway. Do you know why they're so fond of fishes, all about here?'\n\nShe spoke to the Red Queen, whose answer was a little wide of the mark.\n'As to fishes,' she said, very slowly and solemnly, putting her mouth\nclose to Alice's ear, 'her White Majesty knows a lovely riddle--all in\npoetry--all about fishes. Shall she repeat it?'\n\n'Her Red Majesty's very kind to mention it,' the White Queen murmured\ninto Alice's other ear, in a voice like the cooing of a pigeon. 'It\nwould be SUCH a treat! May I?'\n\n'Please do,' Alice said very politely.\n\nThe White Queen laughed with delight, and stroked Alice's cheek. Then\nshe began:\n\n\n    '\"First, the fish must be caught.\"\n  That is easy: a baby, I think, could have caught it.\n    \"Next, the fish must be bought.\"\n  That is easy: a penny, I think, would have bought it.\n\n    \"Now cook me the fish!\"\n  That is easy, and will not take more than a minute.\n    \"Let it lie in a dish!\"\n  That is easy, because it already is in it.\n\n    \"Bring it here! Let me sup!\"\n  It is easy to set such a dish on the table.\n    \"Take the dish-cover up!\"\n  Ah, THAT is so hard that I fear I'm unable!\n\n    For it holds it like glue--\n  Holds the lid to the dish, while it lies in the middle:\n    Which is easiest to do,\n  Un-dish-cover the fish, or dishcover the riddle?'\n\n\n'Take a minute to think about it, and then guess,' said the Red Queen.\n'Meanwhile, we'll drink your health--Queen Alice's health!' she screamed\nat the top of her voice, and all the guests began drinking it directly,\nand very queerly they managed it: some of them put their glasses upon\ntheir heads like extinguishers, and drank all that trickled down their\nfaces--others upset the decanters, and drank the wine as it ran off\nthe edges of the table--and three of them (who looked like kangaroos)\nscrambled into the dish of roast mutton, and began eagerly lapping up\nthe gravy, 'just like pigs in a trough!' thought Alice.\n\n'You ought to return thanks in a neat speech,' the Red Queen said,\nfrowning at Alice as she spoke.\n\n'We must support you, you know,' the White Queen whispered, as Alice got\nup to do it, very obediently, but a little frightened.\n\n'Thank you very much,' she whispered in reply, 'but I can do quite well\nwithout.'\n\n'That wouldn't be at all the thing,' the Red Queen said very decidedly:\nso Alice tried to submit to it with a good grace.\n\n('And they DID push so!' she said afterwards, when she was telling her\nsister the history of the feast. 'You would have thought they wanted to\nsqueeze me flat!')\n\nIn fact it was rather difficult for her to keep in her place while she\nmade her speech: the two Queens pushed her so, one on each side, that\nthey nearly lifted her up into the air: 'I rise to return thanks--'\nAlice began: and she really DID rise as she spoke, several inches; but\nshe got hold of the edge of the table, and managed to pull herself down\nagain.\n\n'Take care of yourself!' screamed the White Queen, seizing Alice's hair\nwith both her hands. 'Something's going to happen!'\n\nAnd then (as Alice afterwards described it) all sorts of things happened\nin a moment. The candles all grew up to the ceiling, looking something\nlike a bed of rushes with fireworks at the top. As to the bottles, they\neach took a pair of plates, which they hastily fitted on as wings, and\nso, with forks for legs, went fluttering about in all directions: 'and\nvery like birds they look,' Alice thought to herself, as well as she\ncould in the dreadful confusion that was beginning.\n\nAt this moment she heard a hoarse laugh at her side, and turned to see\nwhat was the matter with the White Queen; but, instead of the Queen,\nthere was the leg of mutton sitting in the chair. 'Here I am!' cried a\nvoice from the soup tureen, and Alice turned again, just in time to see\nthe Queen's broad good-natured face grinning at her for a moment over\nthe edge of the tureen, before she disappeared into the soup.\n\nThere was not a moment to be lost. Already several of the guests were\nlying down in the dishes, and the soup ladle was walking up the table\ntowards Alice's chair, and beckoning to her impatiently to get out of\nits way.\n\n'I can't stand this any longer!' she cried as she jumped up and seized\nthe table-cloth with both hands: one good pull, and plates, dishes,\nguests, and candles came crashing down together in a heap on the floor.\n\n'And as for YOU,' she went on, turning fiercely upon the Red Queen, whom\nshe considered as the cause of all the mischief--but the Queen was no\nlonger at her side--she had suddenly dwindled down to the size of a\nlittle doll, and was now on the table, merrily running round and round\nafter her own shawl, which was trailing behind her.\n\nAt any other time, Alice would have felt surprised at this, but she was\nfar too much excited to be surprised at anything NOW. 'As for YOU,'\nshe repeated, catching hold of the little creature in the very act of\njumping over a bottle which had just lighted upon the table, 'I'll shake\nyou into a kitten, that I will!'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. Shaking\n\nShe took her off the table as she spoke, and shook her backwards and\nforwards with all her might.\n\nThe Red Queen made no resistance whatever; only her face grew very\nsmall, and her eyes got large and green: and still, as Alice went on\nshaking her, she kept on growing shorter--and fatter--and softer--and\nrounder--and--\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. Waking\n\n--and it really WAS a kitten, after all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. Which Dreamed it?\n\n'Your majesty shouldn't purr so loud,' Alice said, rubbing her eyes, and\naddressing the kitten, respectfully, yet with some severity. 'You\nwoke me out of oh! such a nice dream! And you've been along with me,\nKitty--all through the Looking-Glass world. Did you know it, dear?'\n\nIt is a very inconvenient habit of kittens (Alice had once made the\nremark) that, whatever you say to them, they ALWAYS purr. 'If they would\nonly purr for \"yes\" and mew for \"no,\" or any rule of that sort,' she had\nsaid, 'so that one could keep up a conversation! But how CAN you talk\nwith a person if they always say the same thing?'\n\nOn this occasion the kitten only purred: and it was impossible to guess\nwhether it meant 'yes' or 'no.'\n\nSo Alice hunted among the chessmen on the table till she had found the\nRed Queen: then she went down on her knees on the hearth-rug, and put\nthe kitten and the Queen to look at each other. 'Now, Kitty!' she cried,\nclapping her hands triumphantly. 'Confess that was what you turned\ninto!'\n\n('But it wouldn't look at it,' she said, when she was explaining the\nthing afterwards to her sister: 'it turned away its head, and pretended\nnot to see it: but it looked a LITTLE ashamed of itself, so I think it\nMUST have been the Red Queen.')\n\n'Sit up a little more stiffly, dear!' Alice cried with a merry laugh.\n'And curtsey while you're thinking what to--what to purr. It saves time,\nremember!' And she caught it up and gave it one little kiss, 'just in\nhonour of having been a Red Queen.'\n\n'Snowdrop, my pet!' she went on, looking over her shoulder at the White\nKitten, which was still patiently undergoing its toilet, 'when WILL\nDinah have finished with your White Majesty, I wonder? That must be the\nreason you were so untidy in my dream--Dinah! do you know that you're\nscrubbing a White Queen? Really, it's most disrespectful of you!\n\n'And what did DINAH turn to, I wonder?' she prattled on, as she settled\ncomfortably down, with one elbow in the rug, and her chin in her hand,\nto watch the kittens. 'Tell me, Dinah, did you turn to Humpty Dumpty? I\nTHINK you did--however, you'd better not mention it to your friends just\nyet, for I'm not sure.\n\n'By the way, Kitty, if only you'd been really with me in my dream, there\nwas one thing you WOULD have enjoyed--I had such a quantity of poetry\nsaid to me, all about fishes! To-morrow morning you shall have a real\ntreat. All the time you're eating your breakfast, I'll repeat \"The\nWalrus and the Carpenter\" to you; and then you can make believe it's\noysters, dear!\n\n'Now, Kitty, let's consider who it was that dreamed it all. This is a\nserious question, my dear, and you should NOT go on licking your paw\nlike that--as if Dinah hadn't washed you this morning! You see, Kitty,\nit MUST have been either me or the Red King. He was part of my dream,\nof course--but then I was part of his dream, too! WAS it the Red King,\nKitty? You were his wife, my dear, so you ought to know--Oh, Kitty, DO\nhelp to settle it! I'm sure your paw can wait!' But the provoking kitten\nonly began on the other paw, and pretended it hadn't heard the question.\n\nWhich do YOU think it was?\n\n\n              ----\n\n\n         A boat beneath a sunny sky,\n         Lingering onward dreamily\n         In an evening of July--\n\n         Children three that nestle near,\n         Eager eye and willing ear,\n         Pleased a simple tale to hear--\n\n         Long has paled that sunny sky:\n         Echoes fade and memories die.\n         Autumn frosts have slain July.\n\n         Still she haunts me, phantomwise,\n         Alice moving under skies\n         Never seen by waking eyes.\n\n         Children yet, the tale to hear,\n         Eager eye and willing ear,\n         Lovingly shall nestle near.\n\n         In a Wonderland they lie,\n         Dreaming as the days go by,\n         Dreaming as the summers die:\n\n         Ever drifting down the stream--\n         Lingering in the golden gleam--\n         Life, what is it but a dream?\n\n\n              THE END"