Through the Looking

Published：2026-07-30 07:02:47 Source: engineering kits for 14 year olds under 50 dollars Author: Party Supplies

THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS

And What Alice Found There

By Lewis Carroll

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
(As arranged before commencement of game.)

RED.

WHITE.

White Pawn (Alice) to play, and win in eleven moves.

1. Alice meets R. Q.
            1. R. Q. to K. R.’s 4th
2. Alice through Q.’s 3d (by railway) to 4th (Tweedledum and Tweedledee)
            2. W. Q. to Q. B.’s 4th (after shawl)
3. Alice meets W. Q. (with shawl)
            3. W. Q. to Q.B.’s 5th (becomes sheep)
4. Alice to Q.’s 5th (shop, river, shop)
            4. W. Q. to K. B.’s 8th (leaves egg on shelf)
5. Alice to Q.’s 6th (Humpty Dumpty)
            5. W. Q. to Q. B.’s 8th (flying from R. Kt.)
6. Alice to Q.’s 7th (forest)
            6. R. Kt. to K.’s 2nd (ch.)
7. W.Kt. takes R.Kt.
            7. W. Kt. to K. B’s 5th
8. Alice to Q.’s 8th (coronation)
            8. R. Q. to K.’s sq. (examination)
9. Alice becomes Queen
            9. Queens castle
10. Alice castles (feast)
            10. W.Q. to Q.R.’s 6th (soup)
11. Alice takes R.Q. & wins

Child of the pure unclouded brow
    And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
    Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.

I have not seen thy sunny face,
    Nor heard thy silver laughter;
No thought of me shall find a place
    In thy young life’s hereafter—
Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.

A tale begun in other days,
    When summer suns were glowing—
A simple chime, that served to time
    The rhythm of our rowing—
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say ‘forget.’

Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
    With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
    A melancholy maiden!
We are but older children, dear,
Who fret to find our bedtime near.

Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
    The storm-wind’s moody madness—
Within, the firelight’s ruddy glow,
    And childhood’s nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.

And though the shadow of a sigh
    May tremble through the story,
For ‘happy summer days’ gone by,
    And vanish’d summer glory—
It shall not touch with breath of bale
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.

Contents

CHAPTER I.
Looking-Glass House

One thing was certain, that the whitekitten had had nothing to do withit:—it was the black kitten’s fault entirely. For the white kitten had beenhaving its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour (andbearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it couldn’thavehad any hand in the mischief.

The way Dinah washed her children’s faces was this: first she held the poorthing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other paw she rubbed itsface all over, the wrong way, beginning at the nose: and just now, as I said,she was hard at work on the white kitten, which was lying quite still andtrying to purr—no doubt feeling that it was all meant for its good.

But the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the afternoon, and so,while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner of the great arm-chair, halftalking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had been having a grand game ofromps with the ball of worsted Alice had been trying to wind up, and had beenrolling it up and down till it had all come undone again; and there it was,spread over the hearth-rug, all knots and tangles, with the kitten runningafter its own tail in the middle.

“Oh, you wicked little thing!” cried Alice, catching up the kitten, and givingit a little kiss to make it understand that it was in disgrace. “Really, Dinahought to have taught you better manners! You ought, Dinah, you know youought!” she added, looking reproachfully at the old cat, and speaking in ascross a voice as she could manage—and then she scrambled back into thearm-chair, taking the kitten and the worsted with her, and began winding up theball again. But she didn’t get on very fast, as she was talking all the time,sometimes to the kitten, and sometimes to herself. Kitty sat very demurely onher knee, pretending to watch the progress of the winding, and now and thenputting out one paw and gently touching the ball, as if it would be glad tohelp, if it might.

“Do you know what to-morrow is, Kitty?” Alice began. “You’d have guessed ifyou’d been up in the window with me—only Dinah was making you tidy, so youcouldn’t. I was watching the boys getting in sticks for the bonfire—and itwants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so cold, and it snowed so, they hadto leave off. Never mind, Kitty, we’ll go and see the bonfire to-morrow.” HereAlice wound two or three turns of the worsted round the kitten’s neck, just tosee how it would look: this led to a scramble, in which the ball rolled downupon the floor, and yards and yards of it got unwound again.

“Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty,” Alice went on as soon as they werecomfortably settled again, “when I saw all the mischief you had been doing, Iwas very nearly opening the window, and putting you out into the snow! Andyou’d have deserved it, you little mischievous darling! What have you got tosay for yourself? Now don’t interrupt me!” she went on, holding up one finger.“I’m going to tell you all your faults. Number one: you squeaked twice whileDinah was washing your face this morning. Now you can’t deny it, Kitty: I heardyou! What’s that you say?” (pretending that the kitten was speaking.) “Her pawwent into your eye? Well, that’s yourfault, for keeping your eyesopen—if you’d shut them tight up, it wouldn’t have happened. Now don’t make anymore excuses, but listen! Number two: you pulled Snowdrop away by the tail justas I had put down the saucer of milk before her! What, you were thirsty, wereyou? How do you know she wasn’t thirsty too? Now for number three: you unwoundevery bit of the worsted while I wasn’t looking!

“That’s three faults, Kitty, and you’ve not been punished for any of them yet.You know I’m saving up all your punishments for Wednesday week—Suppose they hadsaved up all mypunishments!” she went on, talking more to herself thanthe kitten. “What wouldthey do at the end of a year? I should be sentto prison, I suppose, when the day came. Or—let me see—suppose each punishmentwas to be going without a dinner: then, when the miserable day came, I shouldhave to go without fifty dinners at once! Well, I shouldn’t mind thatmuch! I’d far rather go without them than eat them!

“Do you hear the snow against the window-panes, Kitty? How nice and soft itsounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. I wonderif the snow lovesthe trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps itsays, ‘Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.’ And when they wakeup in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green, and danceabout—whenever the wind blows—oh, that’s very pretty!” cried Alice, droppingthe ball of worsted to clap her hands. “And I do so wishit was true!I’m sure the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are gettingbrown.

“Kitty, can you play chess? Now, don’t smile, my dear, I’m asking it seriously.Because, when we were playing just now, you watched just as if you understoodit: and when I said ‘Check!’ you purred! Well, it wasa nice check,Kitty, and really I might have won, if it hadn’t been for that nasty Knight,that came wiggling down among my pieces. Kitty, dear, let’s pretend—” And hereI wish I could tell you half the things Alice used to say, beginning with herfavourite phrase “Let’s pretend.” She had had quite a long argument with hersister only the day before—all because Alice had begun with “Let’s pretendwe’re kings and queens;” and her sister, who liked being very exact, had arguedthat they couldn’t, because there were only two of them, and Alice had beenreduced at last to say, “Well, youcan be one of them then, andI’llbe all the rest.” And once she had really frightened her old nurseby shouting suddenly in her ear, “Nurse! Do let’s pretend that I’m a hungryhyaena, and you’re a bone.”

But this is taking us away from Alice’s speech to the kitten. “Let’s pretendthat you’re the Red Queen, Kitty! Do you know, I think if you sat up and foldedyour arms, you’d look exactly like her. Now do try, there’s a dear!” And Alicegot the Red Queen off the table, and set it up before the kitten as a model forit to imitate: however, the thing didn’t succeed, principally, Alice said,because the kitten wouldn’t fold its arms properly. So, to punish it, she heldit up to the Looking-glass, that it might see how sulky it was—“and if you’renot good directly,” she added, “I’ll put you through into Looking-glass House.How would you like that?”

“Now, if you’ll only attend, Kitty, and not talk so much, I’ll tell you all myideas about Looking-glass House. First, there’s the room you can see throughthe glass—that’s just the same as our drawing room, only the things go theother way. I can see all of it when I get upon a chair—all but the bit behindthe fireplace. Oh! I do so wish I could see thatbit! I want so much toknow whether they’ve a fire in the winter: you never cantell, you know,unless our fire smokes, and then smoke comes up in that room too—but that maybe only pretence, just to make it look as if they had a fire. Well then, thebooks are something like our books, only the words go the wrong way; I knowthat, because I’ve held up one of our books to the glass, and then they hold upone in the other room.

“How would you like to live in Looking-glass House, Kitty? I wonder if they’dgive you milk in there? Perhaps Looking-glass milk isn’t good to drink—But oh,Kitty! now we come to the passage. You can just see a little peepof thepassage in Looking-glass House, if you leave the door of our drawing-room wideopen: and it’s very like our passage as far as you can see, only you know itmay be quite different on beyond. Oh, Kitty! how nice it would be if we couldonly get through into Looking-glass House! I’m sure it’s got, oh! suchbeautiful things in it! Let’s pretend there’s a way of getting through into it,somehow, Kitty. Let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that wecan get through. Why, it’s turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It’ll beeasy enough to get through—” She was up on the chimney-piece while she saidthis, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly the glasswasbeginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist.

In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down intothe Looking-glass room. The very first thing she did was to look whether therewas a fire in the fireplace, and she was quite pleased to find that there was areal one, blazing away as brightly as the one she had left behind. “So I shallbe as warm here as I was in the old room,” thought Alice: “warmer, in fact,because there’ll be no one here to scold me away from the fire. Oh, what funit’ll be, when they see me through the glass in here, and can’t get at me!”

Then she began looking about, and noticed that what could be seen from the oldroom was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest was as differentas possible. For instance, the pictures on the wall next the fire seemed to beall alive, and the very clock on the chimney-piece (you know you can only seethe back of it in the Looking-glass) had got the face of a little old man, andgrinned at her.

“They don’t keep this room so tidy as the other,” Alice thought to herself, asshe noticed several of the chessmen down in the hearth among the cinders: butin another moment, with a little “Oh!” of surprise, she was down on her handsand knees watching them. The chessmen were walking about, two and two!

“Here are the Red King and the Red Queen,” Alice said (in a whisper, for fearof frightening them), “and there are the White King and the White Queen sittingon the edge of the shovel—and here are two castles walking arm in arm—I don’tthink they can hear me,” she went on, as she put her head closer down, “and I’mnearly sure they can’t see me. I feel somehow as if I were invisible—”

Here something began squeaking on the table behind Alice, and made her turn herhead just in time to see one of the White Pawns roll over and begin kicking:she watched it with great curiosity to see what would happen next.

“It is the voice of my child!” the White Queen cried out as she rushed past theKing, so violently that she knocked him over among the cinders. “My preciousLily! My imperial kitten!” and she began scrambling wildly up the side of thefender.

“Imperial fiddlestick!” said the King, rubbing his nose, which had been hurt bythe fall. He had a right to be a littleannoyed with the Queen, for hewas covered with ashes from head to foot.

Alice was very anxious to be of use, and, as the poor little Lily was nearlyscreaming herself into a fit, she hastily picked up the Queen and set her onthe table by the side of her noisy little daughter.

The Queen gasped, and sat down: the rapid journey through the air had quitetaken away her breath and for a minute or two she could do nothing but hug thelittle Lily in silence. As soon as she had recovered her breath a little, shecalled out to the White King, who was sitting sulkily among the ashes, “Mindthe volcano!”

“What volcano?” said the King, looking up anxiously into the fire, as if hethought that was the most likely place to find one.

“Blew—me—up,” panted the Queen, who was still a little out of breath. “Mind youcome up—the regular way—don’t get blown up!”

Alice watched the White King as he slowly struggled up from bar to bar, till atlast she said, “Why, you’ll be hours and hours getting to the table, at thatrate. I’d far better help you, hadn’t I?” But the King took no notice of thequestion: it was quite clear that he could neither hear her nor see her.

So Alice picked him up very gently, and lifted him across more slowly than shehad lifted the Queen, that she mightn’t take his breath away: but, before sheput him on the table, she thought she might as well dust him a little, he wasso covered with ashes.

She said afterwards that she had never seen in all her life such a face as theKing made, when he found himself held in the air by an invisible hand, andbeing dusted: he was far too much astonished to cry out, but his eyes and hismouth went on getting larger and larger, and rounder and rounder, till her handshook so with laughing that she nearly let him drop upon the floor.

“Oh! pleasedon’t make such faces, my dear!” she cried out, quiteforgetting that the King couldn’t hear her. “You make me laugh so that I canhardly hold you! And don’t keep your mouth so wide open! All the ashes will getinto it—there, now I think you’re tidy enough!” she added, as she smoothed hishair, and set him upon the table near the Queen.

The King immediately fell flat on his back, and lay perfectly still: and Alicewas a little alarmed at what she had done, and went round the room to see ifshe could find any water to throw over him. However, she could find nothing buta bottle of ink, and when she got back with it she found he had recovered, andhe and the Queen were talking together in a frightened whisper—so low, thatAlice could hardly hear what they said.

The King was saying, “I assure you, my dear, I turned cold to the very ends ofmy whiskers!”

To which the Queen replied, “You haven’t got any whiskers.”

“The horror of that moment,” the King went on, “I shall never, neverforget!”

“You will, though,” the Queen said, “if you don’t make a memorandum of it.”

Alice looked on with great interest as the King took an enormousmemorandum-book out of his pocket, and began writing. A sudden thought struckher, and she took hold of the end of the pencil, which came some way over hisshoulder, and began writing for him.

The poor King looked puzzled and unhappy, and struggled with the pencil forsome time without saying anything; but Alice was too strong for him, and atlast he panted out, “My dear! I really mustget a thinner pencil. Ican’t manage this one a bit; it writes all manner of things that I don’tintend—”

“What manner of things?” said the Queen, looking over the book (in which Alicehad put “The White Knight is sliding down the poker. He balances verybadly”) “That’s not a memorandum of yourfeelings!”

There was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat watching theWhite King (for she was still a little anxious about him, and had the ink allready to throw over him, in case he fainted again), she turned over the leaves,to find some part that she could read, “—for it’s all in some language I don’tknow,” she said to herself.

It was like this.

.YKCOWREBBAJ

sevot yhtils eht dna, gillirb sawT’
ebaw eht ni elbmig dna eryg diD
     ,sevogorob eht erew ysmim llA
.ebargtuo shtar emom eht dnA
    

She puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought struck her.“Why, it’s a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, thewords will all go the right way again.”

This was the poem that Alice read.

JABBERWOCKY.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
    He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

“It seems very pretty,” she said when she had finished it, “but it’sratherhard to understand!” (You see she didn’t like to confess, even toherself, that she couldn’t make it out at all.) “Somehow it seems to fill myhead with ideas—only I don’t exactly know what they are! However,somebodykilled something: that’s clear, at any rate—”

“But oh!” thought Alice, suddenly jumping up, “if I don’t make haste I shallhave to go back through the Looking-glass, before I’ve seen what the rest ofthe house is like! Let’s have a look at the garden first!” She was out of theroom in a moment, and ran down stairs—or, at least, it wasn’t exactly running,but a new invention of hers for getting down stairs quickly and easily, asAlice said to herself. She just kept the tips of her fingers on the hand-rail,and floated gently down without even touching the stairs with her feet; thenshe floated on through the hall, and would have gone straight out at the doorin the same way, if she hadn’t caught hold of the door-post. She was getting alittle giddy with so much floating in the air, and was rather glad to findherself walking again in the natural way.

CHAPTER II.
The Garden of Live Flowers

“I should see the garden far better,” said Alice to herself, “if I could get tothe top of that hill: and here’s a path that leads straight to it—at least, no,it doesn’t do that—” (after going a few yards along the path, and turningseveral sharp corners), “but I suppose it will at last. But how curiously ittwists! It’s more like a corkscrew than a path! Well, thisturn goes tothe hill, I suppose—no, it doesn’t! This goes straight back to the house! Wellthen, I’ll try it the other way.”

And so she did: wandering up and down, and trying turn after turn, but alwayscoming back to the house, do what she would. Indeed, once, when she turned acorner rather more quickly than usual, she ran against it before she could stopherself.

“It’s no use talking about it,” Alice said, looking up at the house andpretending it was arguing with her. “I’m notgoing in again yet. I knowI should have to get through the Looking-glass again—back into the old room—andthere’d be an end of all my adventures!”

So, resolutely turning her back upon the house, she set out once more down thepath, determined to keep straight on till she got to the hill. For a fewminutes all went on well, and she was just saying, “I really shalldo itthis time—” when the path gave a sudden twist and shook itself (as shedescribed it afterwards), and the next moment she found herself actuallywalking in at the door.

“Oh, it’s too bad!” she cried. “I never saw such a house for getting in theway! Never!”

However, there was the hill full in sight, so there was nothing to be done butstart again. This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with a border ofdaisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle.

“O Tiger-lily,” said Alice, addressing herself to one that was wavinggracefully about in the wind, “I wishyou could talk!”

“We cantalk,” said the Tiger-lily: “when there’s anybody worth talkingto.”

Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite seemedto take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went on wavingabout, she spoke again, in a timid voice—almost in a whisper. “And canallthe flowers talk?”

“As well as youcan,” said the Tiger-lily. “And a great deal louder.”

“It isn’t manners for us to begin, you know,” said the Rose, “and I really waswondering when you’d speak! Said I to myself, ‘Her face has got somesense in it, though it’s not a clever one!’ Still, you’re the right colour, andthat goes a long way.”

“I don’t care about the colour,” the Tiger-lily remarked. “If only her petalscurled up a little more, she’d be all right.”

Alice didn’t like being criticised, so she began asking questions. “Aren’t yousometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to take care ofyou?”

“There’s the tree in the middle,” said the Rose: “what else is it good for?”

“But what could it do, if any danger came?” Alice asked.

“It says ‘Bough-wough!’” cried a Daisy: “that’s why its branches are calledboughs!”

“Didn’t you know that?” cried another Daisy, and here they all beganshouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices.“Silence, every one of you!” cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself passionatelyfrom side to side, and trembling with excitement. “They know I can’t get atthem!” it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, “or they wouldn’tdare to do it!”

“Never mind!” Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies,who were just beginning again, she whispered, “If you don’t hold your tongues,I’ll pick you!”

There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned white.

“That’s right!” said the Tiger-lily. “The daisies are worst of all. When onespeaks, they all begin together, and it’s enough to make one wither to hear theway they go on!”

“How is it you can all talk so nicely?” Alice said, hoping to get it into abetter temper by a compliment. “I’ve been in many gardens before, but none ofthe flowers could talk.”

“Put your hand down, and feel the ground,” said the Tiger-lily. “Then you’llknow why.”

Alice did so. “It’s very hard,” she said, “but I don’t see what that has to dowith it.”

“In most gardens,” the Tiger-lily said, “they make the beds too soft—so thatthe flowers are always asleep.”

This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it. “Inever thought of that before!” she said.

“It’s myopinion that you never think at all,” the Rose said in arather severe tone.

“I never saw anybody that looked stupider,” a Violet said, so suddenly, thatAlice quite jumped; for it hadn’t spoken before.

“Hold yourtongue!” cried the Tiger-lily. “As if youever sawanybody! You keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there, till youknow no more what’s going on in the world, than if you were a bud!”

“Are there any more people in the garden besides me?” Alice said, not choosingto notice the Rose’s last remark.

“There’s one other flower in the garden that can move about like you,” said theRose. “I wonder how you do it—” (“You’re always wondering,” said theTiger-lily), “but she’s more bushy than you are.”

“Is she like me?” Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her mind,“There’s another little girl in the garden, somewhere!”

“Well, she has the same awkward shape as you,” the Rose said, “but she’sredder—and her petals are shorter, I think.”

“Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,” the Tiger-lilyinterrupted: “not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.”

“But that’s not yourfault,” the Rose added kindly: “you’re beginning tofade, you know—and then one can’t help one’s petals getting a little untidy.”

Alice didn’t like this idea at all: so, to change the subject, she asked “Doesshe ever come out here?”

“I daresay you’ll see her soon,” said the Rose. “She’s one of the thorny kind.”

“Where does she wear the thorns?” Alice asked with some curiosity.

“Why all round her head, of course,” the Rose replied. “I was wonderingyouhadn’t got some too. I thought it was the regular rule.”

“She’s coming!” cried the Larkspur. “I hear her footstep, thump, thump, thump,along the gravel-walk!”

Alice looked round eagerly, and found that it was the Red Queen. “She’s grown agood deal!” was her first remark. She had indeed: when Alice first found her inthe ashes, she had been only three inches high—and here she was, half a headtaller than Alice herself!

“It’s the fresh air that does it,” said the Rose: “wonderfully fine air it is,out here.”

“I think I’ll go and meet her,” said Alice, for, though the flowers wereinteresting enough, she felt that it would be far grander to have a talk with areal Queen.

“You can’t possibly do that,” said the Rose: “Ishould advise you towalk the other way.”

This sounded nonsense to Alice, so she said nothing, but set off at oncetowards the Red Queen. To her surprise, she lost sight of her in a moment, andfound herself walking in at the front-door again.

A little provoked, she drew back, and after looking everywhere for the queen(whom she spied out at last, a long way off), she thought she would try theplan, this time, of walking in the opposite direction.

It succeeded beautifully. She had not been walking a minute before she foundherself face to face with the Red Queen, and full in sight of the hill she hadbeen so long aiming at.

“Where do you come from?” said the Red Queen. “And where are you going? Lookup, speak nicely, and don’t twiddle your fingers all the time.”

Alice attended to all these directions, and explained, as well as she could,that she had lost her way.

“I don’t know what you mean by yourway,” said the Queen: “all the waysabout here belong to me—but why did you come out here at all?” she addedin a kinder tone. “Curtsey while you’re thinking what to say, it saves time.”

Alice wondered a little at this, but she was too much in awe of the Queen todisbelieve it. “I’ll try it when I go home,” she thought to herself, “the nexttime I’m a little late for dinner.”

“It’s time for you to answer now,” the Queen said, looking at her watch: “openyour mouth a littlewider when you speak, and always say ‘yourMajesty.’”

“I only wanted to see what the garden was like, your Majesty—”

“That’s right,” said the Queen, patting her on the head, which Alice didn’tlike at all, “though, when you say ‘garden,’—I’veseen gardens, comparedwith which this would be a wilderness.”

Alice didn’t dare to argue the point, but went on: “—and I thought I’d try andfind my way to the top of that hill—”

“When you say ‘hill,’” the Queen interrupted, “Icould show you hills,in comparison with which you’d call that a valley.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” said Alice, surprised into contradicting her at last: “ahill can’tbe a valley, you know. That would be nonsense—”

The Red Queen shook her head, “You may call it ‘nonsense’ if you like,” shesaid, “but I’veheard nonsense, compared with which that would be assensible as a dictionary!”

Alice curtseyed again, as she was afraid from the Queen’s tone that she was alittleoffended: and they walked on in silence till they got to the topof the little hill.

For some minutes Alice stood without speaking, looking out in all directionsover the country—and a most curious country it was. There were a number of tinylittle brooks running straight across it from side to side, and the groundbetween was divided up into squares by a number of little green hedges, thatreached from brook to brook.

“I declare it’s marked out just like a large chessboard!” Alice said at last.“There ought to be some men moving about somewhere—and so there are!” She addedin a tone of delight, and her heart began to beat quick with excitement as shewent on. “It’s a great huge game of chess that’s being played—all over theworld—if this isthe world at all, you know. Oh, what fun it is! How IwishI was one of them! I wouldn’t mind being a Pawn, if only I mightjoin—though of course I should liketo be a Queen, best.”

She glanced rather shyly at the real Queen as she said this, but her companiononly smiled pleasantly, and said, “That’s easily managed. You can be the WhiteQueen’s Pawn, if you like, as Lily’s too young to play; and you’re in theSecond Square to begin with: when you get to the Eighth Square you’ll be aQueen—” Just at this moment, somehow or other, they began to run.

Alice never could quite make out, in thinking it over afterwards, how it wasthat they began: all she remembers is, that they were running hand in hand, andthe Queen went so fast that it was all she could do to keep up with her: andstill the Queen kept crying “Faster! Faster!” but Alice felt she couldnotgo faster, though she had not breath left to say so.

The most curious part of the thing was, that the trees and the other thingsround them never changed their places at all: however fast they went, theynever seemed to pass anything. “I wonder if all the things move along with us?”thought poor puzzled Alice. And the Queen seemed to guess her thoughts, for shecried, “Faster! Don’t try to talk!”

Not that Alice had any idea of doing that. She felt as if she wouldnever be able to talk again, she was getting so much out of breath: and stillthe Queen cried “Faster! Faster!” and dragged her along. “Are we nearly there?”Alice managed to pant out at last.

“Nearly there!” the Queen repeated. “Why, we passed it ten minutes ago!Faster!” And they ran on for a time in silence, with the wind whistling inAlice’s ears, and almost blowing her hair off her head, she fancied.

“Now! Now!” cried the Queen. “Faster! Faster!” And they went so fast that atlast they seemed to skim through the air, hardly touching the ground with theirfeet, till suddenly, just as Alice was getting quite exhausted, they stopped,and she found herself sitting on the ground, breathless and giddy.

The Queen propped her up against a tree, and said kindly, “You may rest alittle now.”

Alice looked round her in great surprise. “Why, I do believe we’ve been underthis tree the whole time! Everything’s just as it was!”

“Of course it is,” said the Queen, “what would you have it?”

“Well, in ourcountry,” said Alice, still panting a little, “you’dgenerally get to somewhere else—if you ran very fast for a long time, as we’vebeen doing.”

“A slow sort of country!” said the Queen. “Now, here, you see, it takesall the running youcan do, to keep in the same place. If you want toget somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!”

“I’d rather not try, please!” said Alice. “I’m quite content to stay here—onlyI amso hot and thirsty!”

“I know what you’dlike!” the Queen said good-naturedly, taking a littlebox out of her pocket. “Have a biscuit?”

Alice thought it would not be civil to say “No,” though it wasn’t at all whatshe wanted. So she took it, and ate it as well as she could: and it wasverydry; and she thought she had never been so nearly choked in all herlife.

“While you’re refreshing yourself,” said the Queen, “I’ll just take themeasurements.” And she took a ribbon out of her pocket, marked in inches, andbegan measuring the ground, and sticking little pegs in here and there.

“At the end of two yards,” she said, putting in a peg to mark the distance, “Ishall give you your directions—have another biscuit?”

“No, thank you,” said Alice: “one’s quiteenough!”

“Thirst quenched, I hope?” said the Queen.

Alice did not know what to say to this, but luckily the Queen did not wait foran answer, but went on. “At the end of threeyards I shall repeatthem—for fear of your forgetting them. At the end of four, I shall saygood-bye. And at the end of five, I shall go!”

She had got all the pegs put in by this time, and Alice looked on with greatinterest as she returned to the tree, and then began slowly walking down therow.

At the two-yard peg she faced round, and said, “A pawn goes two squares in itsfirst move, you know. So you’ll go veryquickly through the ThirdSquare—by railway, I should think—and you’ll find yourself in the Fourth Squarein no time. Well, thatsquare belongs to Tweedledum and Tweedledee—theFifth is mostly water—the Sixth belongs to Humpty Dumpty—But you make noremark?”

“I—I didn’t know I had to make one—just then,” Alice faltered out.

“You shouldhave said, ‘It’s extremely kind of you to tell me allthis’—however, we’ll suppose it said—the Seventh Square is all forest—however,one of the Knights will show you the way—and in the Eighth Square we shall beQueens together, and it’s all feasting and fun!” Alice got up and curtseyed,and sat down again.

At the next peg the Queen turned again, and this time she said, “Speak inFrench when you can’t think of the English for a thing—turn out your toes asyou walk—and remember who you are!” She did not wait for Alice to curtsey thistime, but walked on quickly to the next peg, where she turned for a moment tosay “good-bye,” and then hurried on to the last.

How it happened, Alice never knew, but exactly as she came to the last peg, shewas gone. Whether she vanished into the air, or whether she ran quickly intothe wood (“and she canrun very fast!” thought Alice), there was no wayof guessing, but she was gone, and Alice began to remember that she was a Pawn,and that it would soon be time for her to move.

CHAPTER III.
Looking-Glass Insects

Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the country shewas going to travel through. “It’s something very like learning geography,”thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes of being able to see a littlefurther. “Principal rivers—there arenone. Principal mountains—I’m onthe only one, but I don’t think it’s got any name. Principal towns—why, whatarethose creatures, making honey down there? They can’t be bees—nobodyever saw bees a mile off, you know—” and for some time she stood silent,watching one of them that was bustling about among the flowers, poking itsproboscis into them, “just as if it was a regular bee,” thought Alice.

However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an elephant—asAlice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath away at first. “Andwhat enormous flowers they must be!” was her next idea. “Something likecottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put to them—and what quantitiesof honey they must make! I think I’ll go down and—no, I won’t justyet,”she went on, checking herself just as she was beginning to run down the hill,and trying to find some excuse for turning shy so suddenly. “It’ll never do togo down among them without a good long branch to brush them away—and what funit’ll be when they ask me how I like my walk. I shall say—‘Oh, I like it wellenough—’” (here came the favourite little toss of the head), “‘only it was sodusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!’”

“I think I’ll go down the other way,” she said after a pause: “and perhaps Imay visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get into the ThirdSquare!”

So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of the sixlittle brooks.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

    *      *      *      *      *      *

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

“Tickets, please!” said the Guard, putting his head in at the window. In amoment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the same size as thepeople, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.

“Now then! Show your ticket, child!” the Guard went on, looking angrily atAlice. And a great many voices all said together (“like the chorus of a song,”thought Alice), “Don’t keep him waiting, child! Why, his time is worth athousand pounds a minute!”

“I’m afraid I haven’t got one,” Alice said in a frightened tone: “there wasn’ta ticket-office where I came from.” And again the chorus of voices went on.“There wasn’t room for one where she came from. The land there is worth athousand pounds an inch!”

“Don’t make excuses,” said the Guard: “you should have bought one from theengine-driver.” And once more the chorus of voices went on with “The man thatdrives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a thousand pounds a puff!”

Alice thought to herself, “Then there’s no use in speaking.” The voices didn’tjoin in this time, as she hadn’t spoken, but to her great surprise, they allthoughtin chorus (I hope you understand what thinking in chorusmeans—for I must confess that Idon’t), “Better say nothing at all.Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!”

“I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!” thought Alice.

All this time the Guard was looking at her, first through a telescope, thenthrough a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last he said, “You’retravelling the wrong way,” and shut up the window and went away.

“So young a child,” said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he was dressedin white paper), “ought to know which way she’s going, even if she doesn’t knowher own name!”

A Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his eyes and saidin a loud voice, “She ought to know her way to the ticket-office, even if shedoesn’t know her alphabet!”

There was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queer carriage-fullof passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to be that they should allspeak in turn, hewent on with “She’ll have to go back from here asluggage!”

Alice couldn’t see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse voice spokenext. “Change engines—” it said, and was obliged to leave off.

“It sounds like a horse,” Alice thought to herself. And an extremely smallvoice, close to her ear, said, “You might make a joke on that—something about‘horse’ and ‘hoarse,’ you know.”

Then a very gentle voice in the distance said, “She must be labelled ‘Lass,with care,’ you know—”

And after that other voices went on (“What a number of people there are in thecarriage!” thought Alice), saying, “She must go by post, as she’s got a head onher—” “She must be sent as a message by the telegraph—” “She must draw thetrain herself the rest of the way—” and so on.

But the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered in herear, “Never mind what they all say, my dear, but take a return-ticket everytime the train stops.”

“Indeed I shan’t!” Alice said rather impatiently. “I don’t belong to thisrailway journey at all—I was in a wood just now—and I wish I could get backthere.”

“You might make a joke on that,” said the little voice close to her ear:“something about ‘you wouldif you could,’ you know.”

“Don’t tease so,” said Alice, looking about in vain to see where the voice camefrom; “if you’re so anxious to have a joke made, why don’t you make oneyourself?”

The little voice sighed deeply: it was veryunhappy, evidently, andAlice would have said something pitying to comfort it, “If it would only sighlike other people!” she thought. But this was such a wonderfully small sigh,that she wouldn’t have heard it at all, if it hadn’t come quiteclose toher ear. The consequence of this was that it tickled her ear very much, andquite took off her thoughts from the unhappiness of the poor little creature.

“I know you are a friend,” the little voice went on; “a dear friend, and an oldfriend. And you won’t hurt me, though I aman insect.”

“What kind of insect?” Alice inquired a little anxiously. What she reallywanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but she thought thiswouldn’t be quite a civil question to ask.

“What, then you don’t—” the little voice began, when it was drowned by a shrillscream from the engine, and everybody jumped up in alarm, Alice among the rest.

The Horse, who had put his head out of the window, quietly drew it in and said,“It’s only a brook we have to jump over.” Everybody seemed satisfied with this,though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea of trains jumping at all.“However, it’ll take us into the Fourth Square, that’s some comfort!” she saidto herself. In another moment she felt the carriage rise straight up into theair, and in her fright she caught at the thing nearest to her hand, whichhappened to be the Goat’s beard.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

    *      *      *      *      *      *

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

But the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she found herselfsitting quietly under a tree—while the Gnat (for that was the insect she hadbeen talking to) was balancing itself on a twig just over her head, and fanningher with its wings.

It certainly was a verylarge Gnat: “about the size of a chicken,” Alicethought. Still, she couldn’t feel nervous with it, after they had been talkingtogether so long.

“—then you don’t like all insects?” the Gnat went on, as quietly as if nothinghad happened.

“I like them when they can talk,” Alice said. “None of them ever talk, whereIcome from.”

“What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where youcome from?” the Gnatinquired.

“I don’t rejoicein insects at all,” Alice explained, “because I’mrather afraid of them—at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names ofsome of them.”

“Of course they answer to their names?” the Gnat remarked carelessly.

“I never knew them to do it.”

“What’s the use of their having names,” the Gnat said, “if they won’t answer tothem?”

“No use to them,” said Alice; “but it’s useful to the people who namethem, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?”

“I can’t say,” the Gnat replied. “Further on, in the wood down there, they’vegot no names—however, go on with your list of insects: you’re wasting time.”

“Well, there’s the Horse-fly,” Alice began, counting off the names on herfingers.

“All right,” said the Gnat: “half way up that bush, you’ll see aRocking-horse-fly, if you look. It’s made entirely of wood, and gets about byswinging itself from branch to branch.”

“What does it live on?” Alice asked, with great curiosity.

“Sap and sawdust,” said the Gnat. “Go on with the list.”

Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made up hermind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright and sticky; andthen she went on.

“And there’s the Dragon-fly.”

“Look on the branch above your head,” said the Gnat, “and there you’ll find asnap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of holly-leaves,and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.”

“And what does it live on?”

“Frumenty and mince pie,” the Gnat replied; “and it makes its nest in aChristmas box.”

“And then there’s the Butterfly,” Alice went on, after she had taken a goodlook at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to herself, “I wonderif that’s the reason insects are so fond of flying into candles—because theywant to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!”

“Crawling at your feet,” said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in somealarm), “you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices ofBread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.”

“And what does itlive on?”

“Weak tea with cream in it.”

A new difficulty came into Alice’s head. “Supposing it couldn’t find any?” shesuggested.

“Then it would die, of course.”

“But that must happen very often,” Alice remarked thoughtfully.

“It always happens,” said the Gnat.

After this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat amuseditself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last it settled againand remarked, “I suppose you don’t want to lose your name?”

“No, indeed,” Alice said, a little anxiously.

“And yet I don’t know,” the Gnat went on in a careless tone: “only think howconvenient it would be if you could manage to go home without it! For instance,if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons, she would call out ‘comehere—,’ and there she would have to leave off, because there wouldn’t be anyname for her to call, and of course you wouldn’t have to go, you know.”

“That would never do, I’m sure,” said Alice: “the governess would never thinkof excusing me lessons for that. If she couldn’t remember my name, she’d callme ‘Miss!’ as the servants do.”

“Well, if she said ‘Miss,’ and didn’t say anything more,” the Gnat remarked,“of course you’d miss your lessons. That’s a joke. I wish youhad madeit.”

“Why do you wish Ihad made it?” Alice asked. “It’s a very bad one.”

But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling down itscheeks.

“You shouldn’t make jokes,” Alice said, “if it makes you so unhappy.”

Then came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the poor Gnatreally seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when Alice looked up, there wasnothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, as she was getting quite chillywith sitting still so long, she got up and walked on.

She very soon came to an open field, with a wood on the other side of it: itlooked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a littletimidabout going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up her mind to goon: “for I certainly won’t go back,” she thought to herself, and thiswas the only way to the Eighth Square.

“This must be the wood,” she said thoughtfully to herself, “where things haveno names. I wonder what’ll become of myname when I go in? I shouldn’tlike to lose it at all—because they’d have to give me another, and it would bealmost certain to be an ugly one. But then the fun would be trying to find thecreature that had got my old name! That’s just like the advertisements, youknow, when people lose dogs—‘answers to the name of “Dash:” had on a brasscollar’—just fancy calling everything you met ‘Alice,’ till one of themanswered! Only they wouldn’t answer at all, if they were wise.”

She was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it looked very cooland shady. “Well, at any rate it’s a great comfort,” she said as she steppedunder the trees, “after being so hot, to get into the—into what?” shewent on, rather surprised at not being able to think of the word. “I mean toget under the—under the—under this, you know!” putting her hand on thetrunk of the tree. “What doesit call itself, I wonder? I do believeit’s got no name—why, to be sure it hasn’t!”

She stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again. “Thenit really hashappened, after all! And now, who am I? I willremember, if I can! I’m determined to do it!” But being determined didn’t helpmuch, and all she could say, after a great deal of puzzling, was, “L, Iknowit begins with L!”

Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large gentleeyes, but didn’t seem at all frightened. “Here then! Here then!” Alice said, asshe held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only started back alittle, and then stood looking at her again.

“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice ithad!

“I wish I knew!” thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, “Nothing, justnow.”

“Think again,” it said: “that won’t do.”

Alice thought, but nothing came of it. “Please, would you tell me whatyoucall yourself?” she said timidly. “I think that might help alittle.”

“I’ll tell you, if you’ll move a little further on,” the Fawn said. “I can’tremember here.”

So they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms claspedlovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another openfield, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itselffree from Alice’s arms. “I’m a Fawn!” it cried out in a voice of delight, “and,dear me! you’re a human child!” A sudden look of alarm came into its beautifulbrown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed.

Alice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at having losther dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. “However, I know my name now.”she said, “that’s somecomfort. Alice—Alice—I won’t forget it again. Andnow, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow, I wonder?”

It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one roadthrough the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it. “I’ll settleit,” Alice said to herself, “when the road divides and they point differentways.”

But this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way, butwherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts pointing thesame way, one marked “TO TWEEDLEDUM’S HOUSE” and the other “TO THE HOUSE OFTWEEDLEDEE.”

“I do believe,” said Alice at last, “that they live in the same house! I wonderI never thought of that before—But I can’t stay there long. I’ll just call andsay ‘how d’you do?’ and ask them the way out of the wood. If I could only getto the Eighth Square before it gets dark!” So she wandered on, talking toherself as she went, till, on turning a sharp corner, she came upon two fatlittle men, so suddenly that she could not help starting back, but in anothermoment she recovered herself, feeling sure that they must be

CHAPTER IV.
Tweedledum And Tweedledee

They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the other’s neck, andAlice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had “DUM”embroidered on his collar, and the other “DEE.” “I suppose they’ve each got‘TWEEDLE’ round at the back of the collar,” she said to herself.

They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was justlooking round to see if the word ‘TWEEDLE’ was written at the back of eachcollar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked “DUM.”

“If you think we’re wax-works,” he said, “you ought to pay, you know. Wax-worksweren’t made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!”

“Contrariwise,” added the one marked “DEE,” “if you think we’re alive, youought to speak.”

“I’m sure I’m very sorry,” was all Alice could say; for the words of the oldsong kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock, and she couldhardly help saying them out loud:—

“Tweedledum and Tweedledee
    Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
    Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
    As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
    They quite forgot their quarrel.”

“I know what you’re thinking about,” said Tweedledum: “but it isn’t so, nohow.”

“Contrariwise,” continued Tweedledee, “if it was so, it might be; and if itwere so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.”

“I was thinking,” Alice said very politely, “which is the best way out of thiswood: it’s getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?”

But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.

They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice couldn’thelp pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying “First Boy!”

“Nohow!” Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with a snap.

“Next Boy!” said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite certainhe would only shout out “Contrariwise!” and so he did.

“You’ve been wrong!” cried Tweedledum. “The first thing in a visit is to say‘How d’ye do?’ and shake hands!” And here the two brothers gave each other ahug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to shake hands withher.

Alice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of hurtingthe other one’s feelings; so, as the best way out of the difficulty, she tookhold of both hands at once: the next moment they were dancing round in a ring.This seemed quite natural (she remembered afterwards), and she was not evensurprised to hear music playing: it seemed to come from the tree under whichthey were dancing, and it was done (as well as she could make it out) by thebranches rubbing one across the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.

“But it certainly wasfunny,” (Alice said afterwards, when she wastelling her sister the history of all this,) “to find myself singing ‘Herewe go round the mulberry bush.’ I don’t know when I began it, but somehow Ifelt as if I’d been singing it a long long time!”

The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. “Four times roundis enough for one dance,” Tweedledum panted out, and they left off dancing assuddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same moment.

Then they let go of Alice’s hands, and stood looking at her for a minute: therewas a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn’t know how to begin a conversationwith people she had just been dancing with. “It would never do to say ‘How d’yedo?’ now,” she said to herself: “we seem to have got beyond that,somehow!”

“I hope you’re not much tired?” she said at last.

“Nohow. And thank you verymuch for asking,” said Tweedledum.

“So muchobliged!” added Tweedledee. “You like poetry?”

“Ye-es, pretty well—somepoetry,” Alice said doubtfully. “Would you tellme which road leads out of the wood?”

“What shall I repeat to her?” said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum withgreat solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice’s question.

“‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’ is the longest,” Tweedledum replied,giving his brother an affectionate hug.

Tweedledee began instantly:

“The sun was shining—”

Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. “If it’s verylong,” she said, aspolitely as she could, “would you please tell me first which road—”

Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:

“The sun was shining on the sea,
    Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
    The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
    The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
    Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
    After the day was done—
‘It’s very rude of him,’ she said,
    ‘To come and spoil the fun!’

The sea was wet as wet could be,
    The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying over head—
    There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
‘If this were only cleared away,’
    They said, ‘it wouldbe grand!’

‘If seven maids with seven mops
    Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
    ‘That they could get it clear?’
‘I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
    And shed a bitter tear.

‘O Oysters, come and walk with us!’
    The Walrus did beseech.
‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
    Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
    To give a hand to each.’

The eldest Oyster looked at him.
    But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
    And shook his heavy head—
Meaning to say he did not choose
    To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young oysters hurried up,
    All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
    Their shoes were clean and neat—
And this was odd, because, you know,
    They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
    And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
    And more, and more, and more—
All hopping through the frothy waves,
    And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
    Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
    And waited in a row.

‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
    ‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
    Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
    And whether pigs have wings.’

‘But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
    ‘Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!’
‘No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
    They thanked him much for that.

‘A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
    ‘Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed—
Now if you’re ready Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed.’

‘But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue,
‘After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!’
‘The night is fine,’ the Walrus said
    ‘Do you admire the view?

‘It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
    ‘Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf—
    I’ve had to ask you twice!’

‘It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
    ‘To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
    ‘The butter’s spread too thick!’

‘I weep for you,’ the Walrus said.
    ‘I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
    Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
    Before his streaming eyes.

‘O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter.
    ‘You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
    But answer came there none—
And that was scarcely odd, because
    They’d eaten every one.”

“I like the Walrus best,” said Alice: “because you see he was a littlesorry for the poor oysters.”

“He ate more than the Carpenter, though,” said Tweedledee. “You see he held hishandkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn’t count how many he took:contrariwise.”

“That was mean!” Alice said indignantly. “Then I like the Carpenter best—if hedidn’t eat so many as the Walrus.”

“But he ate as many as he could get,” said Tweedledum.

This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, “Well! They were bothvery unpleasant characters—” Here she checked herself in some alarm, at hearingsomething that sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in thewood near them, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast. “Arethere any lions or tigers about here?” she asked timidly.

“It’s only the Red King snoring,” said Tweedledee.

“Come and look at him!” the brothers cried, and they each took one of Alice’shands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.

“Isn’t he a lovelysight?” said Tweedledum.

Alice couldn’t say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap on, with atassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap, and snoringloud—“fit to snore his head off!” as Tweedledum remarked.

“I’m afraid he’ll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,” said Alice, who wasa very thoughtful little girl.

“He’s dreaming now,” said Tweedledee: “and what do you think he’s dreamingabout?”

Alice said “Nobody can guess that.”

“Why, about you!” Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly.“And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you’d be?”

“Where I am now, of course,” said Alice.

“Not you!” Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. “You’d be nowhere. Why, you’reonly a sort of thing in his dream!”

“If that there King was to wake,” added Tweedledum, “you’d go out—bang!—justlike a candle!”

“I shouldn’t!” Alice exclaimed indignantly. “Besides, if I’monly a sortof thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?”

“Ditto” said Tweedledum.

“Ditto, ditto” cried Tweedledee.

He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn’t help saying, “Hush! You’ll bewaking him, I’m afraid, if you make so much noise.”

“Well, it no use yourtalking about waking him,” said Tweedledum, “whenyou’re only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you’re notreal.”

“I amreal!” said Alice and began to cry.

“You won’t make yourself a bit realler by crying,” Tweedledee remarked:“there’s nothing to cry about.”

“If I wasn’t real,” Alice said—half-laughing through her tears, it all seemedso ridiculous—“I shouldn’t be able to cry.”

“I hope you don’t suppose those are real tears?” Tweedledum interrupted in atone of great contempt.

“I know they’re talking nonsense,” Alice thought to herself: “and it’s foolishto cry about it.” So she brushed away her tears, and went on as cheerfully asshe could. “At any rate I’d better be getting out of the wood, for really it’scoming on very dark. Do you think it’s going to rain?”

Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and looked upinto it. “No, I don’t think it is,” he said: “at least—not under here.Nohow.”

“But it may rain outside?”

“It may—if it chooses,” said Tweedledee: “we’ve no objection. Contrariwise.”

“Selfish things!” thought Alice, and she was just going to say “Good-night” andleave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the umbrella and seized herby the wrist.

“Do you see that?” he said, in a voice choking with passion, and hiseyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a tremblingfinger at a small white thing lying under the tree.

“It’s only a rattle,” Alice said, after a careful examination of the littlewhite thing. “Not a rattle-snake, you know,” she added hastily, thinkingthat he was frightened: “only an old rattle—quite old and broken.”

“I knew it was!” cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and tear hishair. “It’s spoilt, of course!” Here he looked at Tweedledee, who immediatelysat down on the ground, and tried to hide himself under the umbrella.

Alice laid her hand upon his arm, and said in a soothing tone, “You needn’t beso angry about an old rattle.”

“But it isn’t old!” Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever. “It’s new, Itell you—I bought it yesterday—my nice new RATTLE!” and his voice rose to aperfect scream.

All this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella, withhimself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that it quite tookoff Alice’s attention from the angry brother. But he couldn’t quite succeed,and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the umbrella, with only hishead out: and there he lay, opening and shutting his mouth and his largeeyes—“looking more like a fish than anything else,” Alice thought.

“Of course you agree to have a battle?” Tweedledum said in a calmer tone.

“I suppose so,” the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the umbrella:“only shemust help us to dress up, you know.”

So the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned in aminute with their arms full of things—such as bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs,table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. “I hope you’re a good hand atpinning and tying strings?” Tweedledum remarked. “Every one of these things hasgot to go on, somehow or other.”

Alice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything in allher life—the way those two bustled about—and the quantity of things they puton—and the trouble they gave her in tying strings and fastening buttons—“Reallythey’ll be more like bundles of old clothes than anything else, by the timethey’re ready!” she said to herself, as she arranged a bolster round the neckof Tweedledee, “to keep his head from being cut off,” as he said.

“You know,” he added very gravely, “it’s one of the most serious things thatcan possibly happen to one in a battle—to get one’s head cut off.”

Alice laughed aloud: but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear ofhurting his feelings.

“Do I look very pale?” said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet tied on.(He calledit a helmet, though it certainly looked much more like asaucepan.)

“Well—yes—a little,” Alice replied gently.

“I’m very brave generally,” he went on in a low voice: “only to-day I happen tohave a headache.”

“And I’vegot a toothache!” said Tweedledee, who had overheard theremark. “I’m far worse off than you!”

“Then you’d better not fight to-day,” said Alice, thinking it a goodopportunity to make peace.

“We musthave a bit of a fight, but I don’t care about going on long,”said Tweedledum. “What’s the time now?”

Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said “Half-past four.”

“Let’s fight till six, and then have dinner,” said Tweedledum.

“Very well,” the other said, rather sadly: “and shecan watch us—onlyyou’d better not come veryclose,” he added: “I generally hit everythingI can see—when I get really excited.”

“And Ihit everything within reach,” cried Tweedledum, “whether I cansee it or not!”

Alice laughed. “You must hit the treespretty often, I should think,”she said.

Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. “I don’t suppose,” he said,“there’ll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by the time we’vefinished!”

“And all about a rattle!” said Alice, still hoping to make them a littleashamed of fighting for such a trifle.

“I shouldn’t have minded it so much,” said Tweedledum, “if it hadn’t been a newone.”

“I wish the monstrous crow would come!” thought Alice.

“There’s only one sword, you know,” Tweedledum said to his brother: “but youcan have the umbrella—it’s quite as sharp. Only we must begin quick. It’sgetting as dark as it can.”

“And darker,” said Tweedledee.

It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a thunderstormcoming on. “What a thick black cloud that is!” she said. “And how fast itcomes! Why, I do believe it’s got wings!”

“It’s the crow!” Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and the twobrothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.

Alice ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree. “It cannever get at me here,” she thought: “it’s far too large to squeezeitself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn’t flap its wings so—it makesquite a hurricane in the wood—here’s somebody’s shawl being blown away!”

CHAPTER V.
Wool and Water

She caught the shawl as she spoke, and looked about for the owner: in anothermoment the White Queen came running wildly through the wood, with both armsstretched out wide, as if she were flying, and Alice very civilly went to meether with the shawl.

“I’m very glad I happened to be in the way,” Alice said, as she helped her toput on her shawl again.

The White Queen only looked at her in a helpless frightened sort of way, andkept repeating something in a whisper to herself that sounded like“bread-and-butter, bread-and-butter,” and Alice felt that if there was to beany conversation at all, she must manage it herself. So she began rathertimidly: “Am I addressing the White Queen?”

“Well, yes, if you call that a-dressing,” The Queen said. “It isn’t mynotion of the thing, at all.”

Alice thought it would never do to have an argument at the very beginning oftheir conversation, so she smiled and said, “If your Majesty will only tell methe right way to begin, I’ll do it as well as I can.”

“But I don’t want it done at all!” groaned the poor Queen. “I’ve beena-dressing myself for the last two hours.”

It would have been all the better, as it seemed to Alice, if she had got someone else to dress her, she was so dreadfully untidy. “Every single thing’scrooked,” Alice thought to herself, “and she’s all over pins!—may I put yourshawl straight for you?” she added aloud.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with it!” the Queen said, in a melancholyvoice. “It’s out of temper, I think. I’ve pinned it here, and I’ve pinned itthere, but there’s no pleasing it!”

“It can’tgo straight, you know, if you pin it all on one side,” Alicesaid, as she gently put it right for her; “and, dear me, what a state your hairis in!”

“The brush has got entangled in it!” the Queen said with a sigh. “And I lostthe comb yesterday.”

Alice carefully released the brush, and did her best to get the hair intoorder. “Come, you look rather better now!” she said, after altering most of thepins. “But really you should have a lady’s maid!”

“I’m sure I’ll take you with pleasure!” the Queen said. “Twopence a week, andjam every other day.”

Alice couldn’t help laughing, as she said, “I don’t want you to hireme—and I don’t care for jam.”

“It’s very good jam,” said the Queen.

“Well, I don’t want any to-day, at any rate.”

“You couldn’t have it if you didwant it,” the Queen said. “The rule is,jam to-morrow and jam yesterday—but never jam to-day.”

“It mustcome sometimes to ‘jam to-day,’” Alice objected.

“No, it can’t,” said the Queen. “It’s jam every otherday: to-day isn’tany otherday, you know.”

“I don’t understand you,” said Alice. “It’s dreadfully confusing!”

“That’s the effect of living backwards,” the Queen said kindly: “it alwaysmakes one a little giddy at first—”

“Living backwards!” Alice repeated in great astonishment. “I never heard ofsuch a thing!”

“—but there’s one great advantage in it, that one’s memory works both ways.”

“I’m sure mineonly works one way,” Alice remarked. “I can’t rememberthings before they happen.”

“It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,” the Queen remarked.

“What sort of things do youremember best?” Alice ventured to ask.

“Oh, things that happened the week after next,” the Queen replied in a carelesstone. “For instance, now,” she went on, sticking a large piece of plaster onher finger as she spoke, “there’s the King’s Messenger. He’s in prison now,being punished: and the trial doesn’t even begin till next Wednesday: and ofcourse the crime comes last of all.”

“Suppose he never commits the crime?” said Alice.

“That would be all the better, wouldn’t it?” the Queen said, as she bound theplaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.

Alice felt there was no denying that. “Of course it would be all thebetter,” she said: “but it wouldn’t be all the better his being punished.”

“You’re wrong there, at any rate,” said the Queen: “were youeverpunished?”

“Only for faults,” said Alice.

“And you were all the better for it, I know!” the Queen said triumphantly.

“Yes, but then I haddone the things I was punished for,” said Alice:“that makes all the difference.”

“But if you hadn’tdone them,” the Queen said, “that would have beenbetter still; better, and better, and better!” Her voice went higher with each“better,” till it got quite to a squeak at last.

Alice was just beginning to say “There’s a mistake somewhere—,” when the Queenbegan screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence unfinished. “Oh, oh,oh!” shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if she wanted to shake itoff. “My finger’s bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!”

Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that Alice hadto hold both her hands over her ears.

“What isthe matter?” she said, as soon as there was a chance of makingherself heard. “Have you pricked your finger?”

“I haven’t pricked it yet,” the Queen said, “but I soon shall—oh, oh,oh!”

“When do you expect to do it?” Alice asked, feeling very much inclined tolaugh.

“When I fasten my shawl again,” the poor Queen groaned out: “the brooch willcome undone directly. Oh, oh!” As she said the words the brooch flew open, andthe Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it again.

“Take care!” cried Alice. “You’re holding it all crooked!” And she caught atthe brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the Queen had prickedher finger.

“That accounts for the bleeding, you see,” she said to Alice with a smile. “Nowyou understand the way things happen here.”

“But why don’t you scream now?” Alice asked, holding her hands ready to putover her ears again.

“Why, I’ve done all the screaming already,” said the Queen. “What would be thegood of having it all over again?”

By this time it was getting light. “The crow must have flown away, I think,”said Alice: “I’m so glad it’s gone. I thought it was the night coming on.”

“I wish Icould manage to be glad!” the Queen said. “Only I never canremember the rule. You must be very happy, living in this wood, and being gladwhenever you like!”

“Only it is so verylonely here!” Alice said in a melancholy voice; andat the thought of her loneliness two large tears came rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh, don’t go on like that!” cried the poor Queen, wringing her hands indespair. “Consider what a great girl you are. Consider what a long way you’vecome to-day. Consider what o’clock it is. Consider anything, only don’t cry!”

Alice could not help laughing at this, even in the midst of her tears. “Canyoukeep from crying by considering things?” she asked.

“That’s the way it’s done,” the Queen said with great decision: “nobody can dotwo things at once, you know. Let’s consider your age to begin with—how old areyou?”

“I’m seven and a half exactly.”

“You needn’t say ‘exactually,’” the Queen remarked: “I can believe it withoutthat. Now I’ll give yousomething to believe. I’m just one hundred andone, five months and a day.”

“I can’t believe that!” said Alice.

“Can’t you?” the Queen said in a pitying tone. “Try again: draw a long breath,and shut your eyes.”

Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’tbelieveimpossible things.”

“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was yourage, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed asmany as six impossible things before breakfast. There goes the shawl again!”

The brooch had come undone as she spoke, and a sudden gust of wind blew theQueen’s shawl across a little brook. The Queen spread out her arms again, andwent flying after it, and this time she succeeded in catching it for herself.“I’ve got it!” she cried in a triumphant tone. “Now you shall see me pin it onagain, all by myself!”

“Then I hope your finger is better now?” Alice said very politely, as shecrossed the little brook after the Queen.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

    *      *      *      *      *      *

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

“Oh, much better!” cried the Queen, her voice rising to a squeak as she wenton. “Much be-etter! Be-etter! Be-e-e-etter! Be-e-ehh!” The last word ended in along bleat, so like a sheep that Alice quite started.

She looked at the Queen, who seemed to have suddenly wrapped herself up inwool. Alice rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She couldn’t make out what hadhappened at all. Was she in a shop? And was that really—was it really asheepthat was sitting on the other side of the counter? Rub as shecould, she could make nothing more of it: she was in a little dark shop,leaning with her elbows on the counter, and opposite to her was an old Sheep,sitting in an arm-chair knitting, and every now and then leaving off to look ather through a great pair of spectacles.

“What is it you want to buy?” the Sheep said at last, looking up for a momentfrom her knitting.

“I don’t quiteknow yet,” Alice said, very gently. “I should like tolook all round me first, if I might.”

“You may look in front of you, and on both sides, if you like,” said the Sheep:“but you can’t look allround you—unless you’ve got eyes at the back ofyour head.”

But these, as it happened, Alice had notgot: so she contented herselfwith turning round, looking at the shelves as she came to them.

The shop seemed to be full of all manner of curious things—but the oddest partof it all was, that whenever she looked hard at any shelf, to make out exactlywhat it had on it, that particular shelf was always quite empty: though theothers round it were crowded as full as they could hold.

“Things flow about so here!” she said at last in a plaintive tone, after shehad spent a minute or so in vainly pursuing a large bright thing, that lookedsometimes like a doll and sometimes like a work-box, and was always in theshelf next above the one she was looking at. “And this one is the mostprovoking of all—but I’ll tell you what—” she added, as a sudden thought struckher, “I’ll follow it up to the very top shelf of all. It’ll puzzle it to gothrough the ceiling, I expect!”

But even this plan failed: the “thing” went through the ceiling as quietly aspossible, as if it were quite used to it.

“Are you a child or a teetotum?” the Sheep said, as she took up another pair ofneedles. “You’ll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning round like that.” Shewas now working with fourteen pairs at once, and Alice couldn’t help looking ather in great astonishment.

“How canshe knit with so many?” the puzzled child thought to herself.“She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!”

“Can you row?” the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles as shespoke.

“Yes, a little—but not on land—and not with needles—” Alice was beginning tosay, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her hands, and she foundthey were in a little boat, gliding along between banks: so there was nothingfor it but to do her best.

“Feather!” cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.

This didn’t sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said nothing,but pulled away. There was something very queer about the water, she thought,as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and would hardly come out again.

“Feather! Feather!” the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. “You’ll becatching a crab directly.”

“A dear little crab!” thought Alice. “I should like that.”

“Didn’t you hear me say ‘Feather’?” the Sheep cried angrily, taking up quite abunch of needles.

“Indeed I did,” said Alice: “you’ve said it very often—and very loud. Please,where arethe crabs?”

“In the water, of course!” said the Sheep, sticking some of the needles intoher hair, as her hands were full. “Feather, I say!”

“Whydo you say ‘feather’ so often?” Alice asked at last, rather vexed.“I’m not a bird!”

“You are,” said the Sheep: “you’re a little goose.”

This offended Alice a little, so there was no more conversation for a minute ortwo, while the boat glided gently on, sometimes among beds of weeds (which madethe oars stick fast in the water, worse then ever), and sometimes under trees,but always with the same tall river-banks frowning over their heads.

“Oh, please! There are some scented rushes!” Alice cried in a sudden transportof delight. “There really are—and suchbeauties!”

“You needn’t say ‘please’ to meabout ’em,” the Sheep said, withoutlooking up from her knitting: “I didn’t put ’em there, and I’m not going totake ’em away.”

“No, but I meant—please, may we wait and pick some?” Alice pleaded. “If youdon’t mind stopping the boat for a minute.”

“How am Ito stop it?” said the Sheep. “If you leave off rowing, it’llstop of itself.”

So the boat was left to drift down the stream as it would, till it glidedgently in among the waving rushes. And then the little sleeves were carefullyrolled up, and the little arms were plunged in elbow-deep to get the rushes agood long way down before breaking them off—and for a while Alice forgot allabout the Sheep and the knitting, as she bent over the side of the boat, withjust the ends of her tangled hair dipping into the water—while with brighteager eyes she caught at one bunch after another of the darling scented rushes.

“I only hope the boat won’t tipple over!” she said to herself. “Oh, whata lovely one! Only I couldn’t quite reach it.” And it certainly didseema little provoking (“almost as if it happened on purpose,” she thought) that,though she managed to pick plenty of beautiful rushes as the boat glided by,there was always a more lovely one that she couldn’t reach.

“The prettiest are always further!” she said at last, with a sigh at theobstinacy of the rushes in growing so far off, as, with flushed cheeks anddripping hair and hands, she scrambled back into her place, and began toarrange her new-found treasures.

What mattered it to her just then that the rushes had begun to fade, and tolose all their scent and beauty, from the very moment that she picked them?Even real scented rushes, you know, last only a very little while—and these,being dream-rushes, melted away almost like snow, as they lay in heaps at herfeet—but Alice hardly noticed this, there were so many other curious things tothink about.

They hadn’t gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars got fast inthe water and wouldn’tcome out again (so Alice explained itafterwards), and the consequence was that the handle of it caught her under thechin, and, in spite of a series of little shrieks of “Oh, oh, oh!” from poorAlice, it swept her straight off the seat, and down among the heap of rushes.

However, she wasn’t hurt, and was soon up again: the Sheep went on with herknitting all the while, just as if nothing had happened. “That was a nice crabyou caught!” she remarked, as Alice got back into her place, very much relievedto find herself still in the boat.

“Was it? I didn’t see it,” Said Alice, peeping cautiously over the side of theboat into the dark water. “I wish it hadn’t let go—I should so like to see alittle crab to take home with me!” But the Sheep only laughed scornfully, andwent on with her knitting.

“Are there many crabs here?” said Alice.

“Crabs, and all sorts of things,” said the Sheep: “plenty of choice, only makeup your mind. Now, what doyou want to buy?”

“To buy!” Alice echoed in a tone that was half astonished and halffrightened—for the oars, and the boat, and the river, had vanished all in amoment, and she was back again in the little dark shop.

“I should like to buy an egg, please,” she said timidly. “How do you sellthem?”

“Fivepence farthing for one—Twopence for two,” the Sheep replied.

“Then two are cheaper than one?” Alice said in a surprised tone, taking out herpurse.

“Only you musteat them both, if you buy two,” said the Sheep.

“Then I’ll have one, please,” said Alice, as she put the money down onthe counter. For she thought to herself, “They mightn’t be at all nice, youknow.”

The Sheep took the money, and put it away in a box: then she said “I never putthings into people’s hands—that would never do—you must get it for yourself.”And so saying, she went off to the other end of the shop, and set the eggupright on a shelf.

“I wonder whyit wouldn’t do?” thought Alice, as she groped her wayamong the tables and chairs, for the shop was very dark towards the end. “Theegg seems to get further away the more I walk towards it. Let me see, is this achair? Why, it’s got branches, I declare! How very odd to find trees growinghere! And actually here’s a little brook! Well, this is the very queerest shopI ever saw!”

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So she went on, wondering more and more at every step, as everything turnedinto a tree the moment she came up to it, and she quite expected the egg to dothe same.

CHAPTER VI.
Humpty Dumpty

However, the egg only got larger and larger, and more and more human: when shehad come within a few yards of it, she saw that it had eyes and a nose andmouth; and when she had come close to it, she saw clearly that it was HUMPTYDUMPTY himself. “It can’t be anybody else!” she said to herself. “I’m ascertain of it, as if his name were written all over his face.”

It might have been written a hundred times, easily, on that enormous face.Humpty Dumpty was sitting with his legs crossed, like a Turk, on the top of ahigh wall—such a narrow one that Alice quite wondered how he could keep hisbalance—and, as his eyes were steadily fixed in the opposite direction, and hedidn’t take the least notice of her, she thought he must be a stuffed figureafter all.

“And how exactly like an egg he is!” she said aloud, standing with her handsready to catch him, for she was every moment expecting him to fall.

“It’s veryprovoking,” Humpty Dumpty said after a long silence, lookingaway from Alice as he spoke, “to be called an egg—Very!”

“I said you lookedlike an egg, Sir,” Alice gently explained. “And someeggs are very pretty, you know” she added, hoping to turn her remark into asort of a compliment.

“Some people,” said Humpty Dumpty, looking away from her as usual, “have nomore sense than a baby!”

Alice didn’t know what to say to this: it wasn’t at all like conversation, shethought, as he never said anything to her; in fact, his last remark wasevidently addressed to a tree—so she stood and softly repeated to herself:—

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall:
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty in his place again.”

“That last line is much too long for the poetry,” she added, almost out loud,forgetting that Humpty Dumpty would hear her.

“Don’t stand there chattering to yourself like that,” Humpty Dumpty said,looking at her for the first time, “but tell me your name and your business.”

“My nameis Alice, but—”

“It’s a stupid enough name!” Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently. “What doesit mean?”

“Musta name mean something?” Alice asked doubtfully.

“Of course it must,” Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh: “mynamemeans the shape I am—and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name likeyours, you might be any shape, almost.”

“Why do you sit out here all alone?” said Alice, not wishing to begin anargument.

“Why, because there’s nobody with me!” cried Humpty Dumpty. “Did you think Ididn’t know the answer to that? Ask another.”

“Don’t you think you’d be safer down on the ground?” Alice went on, not withany idea of making another riddle, but simply in her good-natured anxiety forthe queer creature. “That wall is so verynarrow!”

“What tremendously easy riddles you ask!” Humpty Dumpty growled out. “Of courseI don’t think so! Why, if ever I didfall off—which there’s no chanceof—but ifI did—” Here he pursed his lips and looked so solemn and grandthat Alice could hardly help laughing. “IfI did fall,” he went on,“The King has promised me—with his very own mouth—to—to—”

“To send all his horses and all his men,” Alice interrupted, rather unwisely.

“Now I declare that’s too bad!” Humpty Dumpty cried, breaking into a suddenpassion. “You’ve been listening at doors—and behind trees—and down chimneys—oryou couldn’t have known it!”

“I haven’t, indeed!” Alice said very gently. “It’s in a book.”

“Ah, well! They may write such things in a book,” Humpty Dumpty said ina calmer tone. “That’s what you call a History of England, that is. Now, take agood look at me! I’m one that has spoken to a King, Iam: mayhap you’llnever see such another: and to show you I’m not proud, you may shake hands withme!” And he grinned almost from ear to ear, as he leant forwards (and as nearlyas possible fell off the wall in doing so) and offered Alice his hand. Shewatched him a little anxiously as she took it. “If he smiled much more, theends of his mouth might meet behind,” she thought: “and then I don’t know whatwould happen to his head! I’m afraid it would come off!”

“Yes, all his horses and all his men,” Humpty Dumpty went on. “They’d pick meup again in a minute, theywould! However, this conversation is going ona little too fast: let’s go back to the last remark but one.”

“I’m afraid I can’t quite remember it,” Alice said very politely.

“In that case we start fresh,” said Humpty Dumpty, “and it’s my turn to choosea subject—” (“He talks about it just as if it was a game!” thought Alice.) “Sohere’s a question for you. How old did you say you were?”

Alice made a short calculation, and said “Seven years and six months.”

“Wrong!” Humpty Dumpty exclaimed triumphantly. “You never said a word like it!”

“I though you meant ‘How old areyou?’” Alice explained.

“If I’d meant that, I’d have said it,” said Humpty Dumpty.

Alice didn’t want to begin another argument, so she said nothing.

“Seven years and six months!” Humpty Dumpty repeated thoughtfully. “Anuncomfortable sort of age. Now if you’d asked myadvice, I’d have said‘Leave off at seven’—but it’s too late now.”

“I never ask advice about growing,” Alice said indignantly.

“Too proud?” the other inquired.

Alice felt even more indignant at this suggestion. “I mean,” she said, “thatone can’t help growing older.”

“Onecan’t, perhaps,” said Humpty Dumpty, “but twocan. Withproper assistance, you might have left off at seven.”

“What a beautiful belt you’ve got on!” Alice suddenly remarked.

(They had had quite enough of the subject of age, she thought: and if theyreally were to take turns in choosing subjects, it was her turn now.) “Atleast,” she corrected herself on second thoughts, “a beautiful cravat, I shouldhave said—no, a belt, I mean—I beg your pardon!” she added in dismay, forHumpty Dumpty looked thoroughly offended, and she began to wish she hadn’tchosen that subject. “If I only knew,” she thought to herself, “which was neckand which was waist!”

Evidently Humpty Dumpty was very angry, though he said nothing for a minute ortwo. When he didspeak again, it was in a deep growl.

“It is a—most—provoking—thing,” he said at last, “when a person doesn’tknow a cravat from a belt!”

“I know it’s very ignorant of me,” Alice said, in so humble a tone that HumptyDumpty relented.

“It’s a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say. It’s a present from theWhite King and Queen. There now!”

“Is it really?” said Alice, quite pleased to find that she hadchosen agood subject, after all.

“They gave it me,” Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully, as he crossed one kneeover the other and clasped his hands round it, “they gave it me—for anun-birthday present.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alice said with a puzzled air.

“I’m not offended,” said Humpty Dumpty.

“I mean, what isan un-birthday present?”

“A present given when it isn’t your birthday, of course.”

Alice considered a little. “I like birthday presents best,” she said at last.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” cried Humpty Dumpty. “How many daysare there in a year?”

“Three hundred and sixty-five,” said Alice.

“And how many birthdays have you?”

“One.”

“And if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five, what remains?”

“Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.”

Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful. “I’d rather see that done on paper,” he said.

Alice couldn’t help smiling as she took out her memorandum-book, and worked thesum for him:

365
    1
____
364
___

Humpty Dumpty took the book, and looked at it carefully. “That seems to be doneright—” he began.

“You’re holding it upside down!” Alice interrupted.

“To be sure I was!” Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round for him.“I thought it looked a little queer. As I was saying, that seemsto bedone right—though I haven’t time to look it over thoroughly just now—and thatshows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might getun-birthday presents—”

“Certainly,” said Alice.

“And only onefor birthday presents, you know. There’s glory for you!”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory,’” Alice said.

Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. “Of course you don’t—till I tell you. Imeant ‘there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’”

“But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knock-down argument,’” Alice objected.

“When Iuse a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, “itmeans just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”

“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you canmake words mean so manydifferent things.”

“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master—that’s all.”

Alice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty Dumptybegan again. “They’ve a temper, some of them—particularly verbs, they’re theproudest—adjectives you can do anything with, but not verbs—however, Ican manage the whole lot of them! Impenetrability! That’s what Isay!”

“Would you tell me, please,” said Alice “what that means?”

“Now you talk like a reasonable child,” said Humpty Dumpty, looking very muchpleased. “I meant by ‘impenetrability’ that we’ve had enough of that subject,and it would be just as well if you’d mention what you mean to do next, as Isuppose you don’t mean to stop here all the rest of your life.”

“That’s a great deal to make one word mean,” Alice said in a thoughtful tone.

“When I make a word do a lot of work like that,” said Humpty Dumpty, “I alwayspay it extra.”

“Oh!” said Alice. She was too much puzzled to make any other remark.

“Ah, you should see ’em come round me of a Saturday night,” Humpty Dumpty wenton, wagging his head gravely from side to side: “for to get their wages, youknow.”

(Alice didn’t venture to ask what he paid them with; and so you see I can’ttell you.)

“You seem very clever at explaining words, Sir,” said Alice. “Would you kindlytell me the meaning of the poem called ‘Jabberwocky’?”

“Let’s hear it,” said Humpty Dumpty. “I can explain all the poems that wereever invented—and a good many that haven’t been invented just yet.”

This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse:

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

“That’s enough to begin with,” Humpty Dumpty interrupted: “there are plenty ofhard words there. ‘Brillig’ means four o’clock in the afternoon—the timewhen you begin broilingthings for dinner.”

“That’ll do very well,” said Alice: “and ‘slithy’?”

“Well, ‘slithy’ means ‘lithe and slimy.’ ‘Lithe’ is the same as‘active.’ You see it’s like a portmanteau—there are two meanings packed up intoone word.”

“I see it now,” Alice remarked thoughtfully: “and what are ‘toves’?”

“Well, ‘toves’ are something like badgers—they’re something likelizards—and they’re something like corkscrews.”

“They must be very curious looking creatures.”

“They are that,” said Humpty Dumpty: “also they make their nests undersun-dials—also they live on cheese.”

“And what’s the ‘gyre’ and to ‘gimble’?”

“To ‘gyre’ is to go round and round like a gyroscope. To ‘gimble’is to make holes like a gimlet.”

“And ‘the wabe’ is the grass-plot round a sun-dial, I suppose?” saidAlice, surprised at her own ingenuity.

“Of course it is. It’s called ‘wabe,’ you know, because it goes a longway before it, and a long way behind it—”

“And a long way beyond it on each side,” Alice added.

“Exactly so. Well, then, ‘mimsy’ is ‘flimsy and miserable’ (there’sanother portmanteau for you). And a ‘borogove’ is a thin shabby-lookingbird with its feathers sticking out all round—something like a live mop.”

“And then ‘mome raths’?” said Alice. “I’m afraid I’m giving you a greatdeal of trouble.”

“Well, a ‘rath’ is a sort of green pig: but ‘mome’ I’m notcertain about. I think it’s short for ‘from home’—meaning that they’d losttheir way, you know.”

“And what does ‘outgrabe’ mean?”

“Well, ‘outgrabing’ is something between bellowing and whistling, with akind of sneeze in the middle: however, you’ll hear it done, maybe—down in thewood yonder—and when you’ve once heard it you’ll be quitecontent. Who’sbeen repeating all that hard stuff to you?”

“I read it in a book,” said Alice. “But I had some poetry repeated to me, mucheasier than that, by—Tweedledee, I think it was.”

“As to poetry, you know,” said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his greathands, “Ican repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes to that—”

“Oh, it needn’t come to that!” Alice hastily said, hoping to keep him frombeginning.

“The piece I’m going to repeat,” he went on without noticing her remark, “waswritten entirely for your amusement.”

Alice felt that in that case she really oughtto listen to it, so shesat down, and said “Thank you” rather sadly.

“In winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delight—

only I don’t sing it,” he added, as an explanation.

“I see you don’t,” said Alice.

“If you can seewhether I’m singing or not, you’ve sharper eyes thanmost.” Humpty Dumpty remarked severely. Alice was silent.

“In spring, when woods are getting green,
I’ll try and tell you what I mean.”

“Thank you very much,” said Alice.

“In summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps you’ll understand the song:

In autumn, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.”

“I will, if I can remember it so long,” said Alice.

“You needn’t go on making remarks like that,” Humpty Dumpty said: “they’re notsensible, and they put me out.”

“I sent a message to the fish:
I told them ‘This is what I wish.’

The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.

The little fishes’ answer was
‘We cannot do it, Sir, because—’”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” said Alice.

“It gets easier further on,” Humpty Dumpty replied.

“I sent to them again to say
‘It will be better to obey.’

The fishes answered with a grin,
‘Why, what a temper you are in!’

I told them once, I told them twice:
They would not listen to advice.

I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.

My heart went hop, my heart went thump;
I filled the kettle at the pump.

Then some one came to me and said,
‘The little fishes are in bed.’

I said to him, I said it plain,
‘Then you must wake them up again.’

I said it very loud and clear;
I went and shouted in his ear.”

Humpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this verse,and Alice thought with a shudder, “I wouldn’t have been the messenger foranything!”

“But he was very stiff and proud;
He said ‘You needn’t shout so loud!’

And he was very proud and stiff;
He said ‘I’d go and wake them, if—’

I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.

And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked.

And when I found the door was shut,
I tried to turn the handle, but—”

There was a long pause.

“Is that all?” Alice timidly asked.

“That’s all,” said Humpty Dumpty. “Good-bye.”

This was rather sudden, Alice thought: but, after such a verystronghint that she ought to be going, she felt that it would hardly be civil tostay. So she got up, and held out her hand. “Good-bye, till we meet again!” shesaid as cheerfully as she could.

“I shouldn’t know you again if we didmeet,” Humpty Dumpty replied in adiscontented tone, giving her one of his fingers to shake; “you’re so exactlylike other people.”

“The face is what one goes by, generally,” Alice remarked in a thoughtful tone.

“That’s just what I complain of,” said Humpty Dumpty. “Your face is the same aseverybody has—the two eyes, so—” (marking their places in the air with thisthumb) “nose in the middle, mouth under. It’s always the same. Now if you hadthe two eyes on the same side of the nose, for instance—or the mouth at thetop—that would be somehelp.”

“It wouldn’t look nice,” Alice objected. But Humpty Dumpty only shut his eyesand said “Wait till you’ve tried.”

Alice waited a minute to see if he would speak again, but as he never openedhis eyes or took any further notice of her, she said “Good-bye!” once more,and, getting no answer to this, she quietly walked away: but she couldn’t helpsaying to herself as she went, “Of all the unsatisfactory—” (she repeated thisaloud, as it was a great comfort to have such a long word to say) “of all theunsatisfactory people I evermet—” She never finished the sentence, forat this moment a heavy crash shook the forest from end to end.

CHAPTER VII.
The Lion and the Unicorn

The next moment soldiers came running through the wood, at first in twos andthrees, then ten or twenty together, and at last in such crowds that theyseemed to fill the whole forest. Alice got behind a tree, for fear of being runover, and watched them go by.

She thought that in all her life she had never seen soldiers so uncertain ontheir feet: they were always tripping over something or other, and whenever onewent down, several more always fell over him, so that the ground was sooncovered with little heaps of men.

Then came the horses. Having four feet, these managed rather better than thefoot-soldiers: but even theystumbled now and then; and it seemed to bea regular rule that, whenever a horse stumbled the rider fell off instantly.The confusion got worse every moment, and Alice was very glad to get out of thewood into an open place, where she found the White King seated on the ground,busily writing in his memorandum-book.

“I’ve sent them all!” the King cried in a tone of delight, on seeing Alice.“Did you happen to meet any soldiers, my dear, as you came through the wood?”

“Yes, I did,” said Alice: “several thousand, I should think.”

“Four thousand two hundred and seven, that’s the exact number,” the King said,referring to his book. “I couldn’t send all the horses, you know, because twoof them are wanted in the game. And I haven’t sent the two Messengers, either.They’re both gone to the town. Just look along the road, and tell me if you cansee either of them.”

“I see nobody on the road,” said Alice.

“I only wish Ihad such eyes,” the King remarked in a fretful tone. “Tobe able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it’s as much as Ican do to see real people, by this light!”

All this was lost on Alice, who was still looking intently along the road,shading her eyes with one hand. “I see somebody now!” she exclaimed at last.“But he’s coming very slowly—and what curious attitudes he goes into!” (For themessenger kept skipping up and down, and wriggling like an eel, as he camealong, with his great hands spread out like fans on each side.)

“Not at all,” said the King. “He’s an Anglo-Saxon Messenger—and those areAnglo-Saxon attitudes. He only does them when he’s happy. His name is Haigha.”(He pronounced it so as to rhyme with “mayor.”)

“I love my love with an H,” Alice couldn’t help beginning, “because he isHappy. I hate him with an H, because he is Hideous. I fed him with—with—withHam-sandwiches and Hay. His name is Haigha, and he lives—”

“He lives on the Hill,” the King remarked simply, without the least idea thathe was joining in the game, while Alice was still hesitating for the name of atown beginning with H. “The other Messenger’s called Hatta. I must havetwo, you know—to come and go. One to come, and one to go.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Alice.

“It isn’t respectable to beg,” said the King.

“I only meant that I didn’t understand,” said Alice. “Why one to come and oneto go?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” the King repeated impatiently. “I must have two—tofetch and carry. One to fetch, and one to carry.”

At this moment the Messenger arrived: he was far too much out of breath to saya word, and could only wave his hands about, and make the most fearful faces atthe poor King.

“This young lady loves you with an H,” the King said, introducing Alice in thehope of turning off the Messenger’s attention from himself—but it was nouse—the Anglo-Saxon attitudes only got more extraordinary every moment, whilethe great eyes rolled wildly from side to side.

“You alarm me!” said the King. “I feel faint—Give me a ham sandwich!”

On which the Messenger, to Alice’s great amusement, opened a bag that hunground his neck, and handed a sandwich to the King, who devoured it greedily.

“Another sandwich!” said the King.

“There’s nothing but hay left now,” the Messenger said, peeping into the bag.

“Hay, then,” the King murmured in a faint whisper.

Alice was glad to see that it revived him a good deal. “There’s nothing likeeating hay when you’re faint,” he remarked to her, as he munched away.

“I should think throwing cold water over you would be better,” Alice suggested:“or some sal-volatile.”

“I didn’t say there was nothing better,” the King replied. “I said therewas nothing likeit.” Which Alice did not venture to deny.

“Who did you pass on the road?” the King went on, holding out his hand to theMessenger for some more hay.

“Nobody,” said the Messenger.

“Quite right,” said the King: “this young lady saw him too. So of course Nobodywalks slower than you.”

“I do my best,” the Messenger said in a sulky tone. “I’m sure nobody walks muchfaster than I do!”

“He can’t do that,” said the King, “or else he’d have been here first. However,now you’ve got your breath, you may tell us what’s happened in the town.”

“I’ll whisper it,” said the Messenger, putting his hands to his mouth in theshape of a trumpet, and stooping so as to get close to the King’s ear. Alicewas sorry for this, as she wanted to hear the news too. However, instead ofwhispering, he simply shouted at the top of his voice “They’re at it again!”

“Do you call thata whisper?” cried the poor King, jumping up andshaking himself. “If you do such a thing again, I’ll have you buttered! It wentthrough and through my head like an earthquake!”

“It would have to be a very tiny earthquake!” thought Alice. “Who are at itagain?” she ventured to ask.

“Why the Lion and the Unicorn, of course,” said the King.

“Fighting for the crown?”

“Yes, to be sure,” said the King: “and the best of the joke is, that it’smycrown all the while! Let’s run and see them.” And they trotted off,Alice repeating to herself, as she ran, the words of the old song:—

“The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the crown:
The Lion beat the Unicorn all round the town.
Some gave them white bread, some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum-cake and drummed them out of town.”

“Does—the one—that wins—get the crown?” she asked, as well as she could, forthe run was putting her quite out of breath.

“Dear me, no!” said the King. “What an idea!”

“Would you—be good enough,” Alice panted out, after running a little further,“to stop a minute—just to get—one’s breath again?”

“I’m goodenough,” the King said, “only I’m not strong enough. You see,a minute goes by so fearfully quick. You might as well try to stop aBandersnatch!”

Alice had no more breath for talking, so they trotted on in silence, till theycame in sight of a great crowd, in the middle of which the Lion and Unicornwere fighting. They were in such a cloud of dust, that at first Alice could notmake out which was which: but she soon managed to distinguish the Unicorn byhis horn.

They placed themselves close to where Hatta, the other messenger, was standingwatching the fight, with a cup of tea in one hand and a piece ofbread-and-butter in the other.

“He’s only just out of prison, and he hadn’t finished his tea when he was sentin,” Haigha whispered to Alice: “and they only give them oyster-shells inthere—so you see he’s very hungry and thirsty. How are you, dear child?” hewent on, putting his arm affectionately round Hatta’s neck.

Hatta looked round and nodded, and went on with his bread and butter.

“Were you happy in prison, dear child?” said Haigha.

Hatta looked round once more, and this time a tear or two trickled down hischeek: but not a word would he say.

“Speak, can’t you!” Haigha cried impatiently. But Hatta only munched away, anddrank some more tea.

“Speak, won’t you!” cried the King. “How are they getting on with the fight?”

Hatta made a desperate effort, and swallowed a large piece of bread-and-butter.“They’re getting on very well,” he said in a choking voice: “each of them hasbeen down about eighty-seven times.”

“Then I suppose they’ll soon bring the white bread and the brown?” Aliceventured to remark.

“It’s waiting for ’em now,” said Hatta: “this is a bit of it as I’m eating.”

There was a pause in the fight just then, and the Lion and the Unicorn satdown, panting, while the King called out “Ten minutes allowed forrefreshments!” Haigha and Hatta set to work at once, carrying rough trays ofwhite and brown bread. Alice took a piece to taste, but it was verydry.

“I don’t think they’ll fight any more to-day,” the King said to Hatta: “go andorder the drums to begin.” And Hatta went bounding away like a grasshopper.

For a minute or two Alice stood silent, watching him. Suddenly she brightenedup. “Look, look!” she cried, pointing eagerly. “There’s the White Queen runningacross the country! She came flying out of the wood over yonder—How fast thoseQueens canrun!”

“There’s some enemy after her, no doubt,” the King said, without even lookinground. “That wood’s full of them.”

“But aren’t you going to run and help her?” Alice asked, very much surprised athis taking it so quietly.

“No use, no use!” said the King. “She runs so fearfully quick. You might aswell try to catch a Bandersnatch! But I’ll make a memorandum about her, if youlike—She’s a dear good creature,” he repeated softly to himself, as he openedhis memorandum-book. “Do you spell ‘creature’ with a double ‘e’?”

At this moment the Unicorn sauntered by them, with his hands in his pockets. “Ihad the best of it this time?” he said to the King, just glancing at him as hepassed.

“A little—a little,” the King replied, rather nervously. “You shouldn’t haverun him through with your horn, you know.”

“It didn’t hurt him,” the Unicorn said carelessly, and he was going on, whenhis eye happened to fall upon Alice: he turned round rather instantly, andstood for some time looking at her with an air of the deepest disgust.

“What—is—this?” he said at last.

“This is a child!” Haigha replied eagerly, coming in front of Alice tointroduce her, and spreading out both his hands towards her in an Anglo-Saxonattitude. “We only found it to-day. It’s as large as life, and twice asnatural!”

“I always thought they were fabulous monsters!” said the Unicorn. “Is italive?”

“It can talk,” said Haigha, solemnly.

The Unicorn looked dreamily at Alice, and said “Talk, child.”

Alice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: “Do youknow, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I never saw onealive before!”

“Well, now that we haveseen each other,” said the Unicorn, “if you’llbelieve in me, I’ll believe in you. Is that a bargain?”

“Yes, if you like,” said Alice.

“Come, fetch out the plum-cake, old man!” the Unicorn went on, turning from herto the King. “None of your brown bread for me!”

“Certainly—certainly!” the King muttered, and beckoned to Haigha. “Open thebag!” he whispered. “Quick! Not that one—that’s full of hay!”

Haigha took a large cake out of the bag, and gave it to Alice to hold, while hegot out a dish and carving-knife. How they all came out of it Alice couldn’tguess. It was just like a conjuring-trick, she thought.

The Lion had joined them while this was going on: he looked very tired andsleepy, and his eyes were half shut. “What’s this!” he said, blinking lazily atAlice, and speaking in a deep hollow tone that sounded like the tolling of agreat bell.

“Ah, what isit, now?” the Unicorn cried eagerly. “You’ll never guess!Icouldn’t.”

The Lion looked at Alice wearily. “Are you animal—vegetable—or mineral?” hesaid, yawning at every other word.

“It’s a fabulous monster!” the Unicorn cried out, before Alice could reply.

“Then hand round the plum-cake, Monster,” the Lion said, lying down and puttinghis chin on his paws. “And sit down, both of you,” (to the King and theUnicorn): “fair play with the cake, you know!”

The King was evidently very uncomfortable at having to sit down between the twogreat creatures; but there was no other place for him.

“What a fight we might have for the crown, now!” the Unicorn said,looking slyly up at the crown, which the poor King was nearly shaking off hishead, he trembled so much.

“I should win easy,” said the Lion.

“I’m not so sure of that,” said the Unicorn.

“Why, I beat you all round the town, you chicken!” the Lion replied angrily,half getting up as he spoke.

Here the King interrupted, to prevent the quarrel going on: he was verynervous, and his voice quite quivered. “All round the town?” he said. “That’s agood long way. Did you go by the old bridge, or the market-place? You get thebest view by the old bridge.”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” the Lion growled out as he lay down again. “There wastoo much dust to see anything. What a time the Monster is, cutting up thatcake!”

Alice had seated herself on the bank of a little brook, with the great dish onher knees, and was sawing away diligently with the knife. “It’s veryprovoking!” she said, in reply to the Lion (she was getting quite used to beingcalled “the Monster”). “I’ve cut several slices already, but they always joinon again!”

“You don’t know how to manage Looking-glass cakes,” the Unicorn remarked. “Handit round first, and cut it afterwards.”

This sounded nonsense, but Alice very obediently got up, and carried the dishround, and the cake divided itself into three pieces as she did so. “Nowcut it up,” said the Lion, as she returned to her place with the empty dish.

“I say, this isn’t fair!” cried the Unicorn, as Alice sat with the knife in herhand, very much puzzled how to begin. “The Monster has given the Lion twice asmuch as me!”

“She’s kept none for herself, anyhow,” said the Lion. “Do you like plum-cake,Monster?”

But before Alice could answer him, the drums began.

Where the noise came from, she couldn’t make out: the air seemed full of it,and it rang through and through her head till she felt quite deafened. Shestarted to her feet and sprang across the little brook in her terror,

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

    *      *      *      *      *      *

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

and had just time to see the Lion and the Unicorn rise to their feet, withangry looks at being interrupted in their feast, before she dropped to herknees, and put her hands over her ears, vainly trying to shut out the dreadfuluproar.

“If thatdoesn’t ‘drum them out of town,’” she thought to herself,“nothing ever will!”

CHAPTER VIII.
“It’s my own Invention”

After a while the noise seemed gradually to die away, till all was deadsilence, and Alice lifted up her head in some alarm. There was no one to beseen, and her first thought was that she must have been dreaming about the Lionand the Unicorn and those queer Anglo-Saxon Messengers. However, there was thegreat dish still lying at her feet, on which she had tried to cut theplum-cake, “So I wasn’t dreaming, after all,” she said to herself,“unless—unless we’re all part of the same dream. Only I do hope it’s mydream, and not the Red King’s! I don’t like belonging to another person’sdream,” she went on in a rather complaining tone: “I’ve a great mind to go andwake him, and see what happens!”

At this moment her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shouting of “Ahoy! Ahoy!Check!” and a Knight dressed in crimson armour came galloping down upon her,brandishing a great club. Just as he reached her, the horse stopped suddenly:“You’re my prisoner!” the Knight cried, as he tumbled off his horse.

Startled as she was, Alice was more frightened for him than for herself at themoment, and watched him with some anxiety as he mounted again. As soon as hewas comfortably in the saddle, he began once more “You’re my—” but here anothervoice broke in “Ahoy! Ahoy! Check!” and Alice looked round in some surprise forthe new enemy.

This time it was a White Knight. He drew up at Alice’s side, and tumbled offhis horse just as the Red Knight had done: then he got on again, and the twoKnights sat and looked at each other for some time without speaking. Alicelooked from one to the other in some bewilderment.

“She’s myprisoner, you know!” the Red Knight said at last.

“Yes, but then Icame and rescued her!” the White Knight replied.

“Well, we must fight for her, then,” said the Red Knight, as he took up hishelmet (which hung from the saddle, and was something the shape of a horse’shead), and put it on.

“You will observe the Rules of Battle, of course?” the White Knight remarked,putting on his helmet too.

“I always do,” said the Red Knight, and they began banging away at each otherwith such fury that Alice got behind a tree to be out of the way of the blows.

“I wonder, now, what the Rules of Battle are,” she said to herself, as shewatched the fight, timidly peeping out from her hiding-place: “one Rule seemsto be, that if one Knight hits the other, he knocks him off his horse, and ifhe misses, he tumbles off himself—and another Rule seems to be that they holdtheir clubs with their arms, as if they were Punch and Judy—What a noise theymake when they tumble! Just like a whole set of fire-irons falling into thefender! And how quiet the horses are! They let them get on and off them just asif they were tables!”

Another Rule of Battle, that Alice had not noticed, seemed to be that theyalways fell on their heads, and the battle ended with their both falling off inthis way, side by side: when they got up again, they shook hands, and then theRed Knight mounted and galloped off.

“It was a glorious victory, wasn’t it?” said the White Knight, as he came uppanting.

“I don’t know,” Alice said doubtfully. “I don’t want to be anybody’s prisoner.I want to be a Queen.”

“So you will, when you’ve crossed the next brook,” said the White Knight. “I’llsee you safe to the end of the wood—and then I must go back, you know. That’sthe end of my move.”

“Thank you very much,” said Alice. “May I help you off with your helmet?” Itwas evidently more than he could manage by himself; however, she managed toshake him out of it at last.

“Now one can breathe more easily,” said the Knight, putting back his shaggyhair with both hands, and turning his gentle face and large mild eyes to Alice.She thought she had never seen such a strange-looking soldier in all her life.

He was dressed in tin armour, which seemed to fit him very badly, and he had aqueer-shaped little deal box fastened across his shoulder, upside-down, andwith the lid hanging open. Alice looked at it with great curiosity.

“I see you’re admiring my little box.” the Knight said in a friendly tone.“It’s my own invention—to keep clothes and sandwiches in. You see I carry itupside-down, so that the rain can’t get in.”

“But the things can get out,” Alice gently remarked. “Do you know thelid’s open?”

“I didn’t know it,” the Knight said, a shade of vexation passing over his face.“Then all the things must have fallen out! And the box is no use without them.”He unfastened it as he spoke, and was just going to throw it into the bushes,when a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he hung it carefully on a tree.“Can you guess why I did that?” he said to Alice.

Alice shook her head.

“In hopes some bees may make a nest in it—then I should get the honey.”

“But you’ve got a bee-hive—or something like one—fastened to the saddle,” saidAlice.

“Yes, it’s a very good bee-hive,” the Knight said in a discontented tone, “oneof the best kind. But not a single bee has come near it yet. And the otherthing is a mouse-trap. I suppose the mice keep the bees out—or the bees keepthe mice out, I don’t know which.”

“I was wondering what the mouse-trap was for,” said Alice. “It isn’t verylikely there would be any mice on the horse’s back.”

“Not very likely, perhaps,” said the Knight: “but if they docome, Idon’t choose to have them running all about.”

“You see,” he went on after a pause, “it’s as well to be provided foreverything. That’s the reason the horse has all those anklets round hisfeet.”

“But what are they for?” Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.

“To guard against the bites of sharks,” the Knight replied. “It’s an inventionof my own. And now help me on. I’ll go with you to the end of the wood—What’sthe dish for?”

“It’s meant for plum-cake,” said Alice.

“We’d better take it with us,” the Knight said. “It’ll come in handy if we findany plum-cake. Help me to get it into this bag.”

This took a very long time to manage, though Alice held the bag open verycarefully, because the Knight was so veryawkward in putting in thedish: the first two or three times that he tried he fell in himself instead.“It’s rather a tight fit, you see,” he said, as they got it in a last; “Thereare so many candlesticks in the bag.” And he hung it to the saddle, which wasalready loaded with bunches of carrots, and fire-irons, and many other things.

“I hope you’ve got your hair well fastened on?” he continued, as they set off.

“Only in the usual way,” Alice said, smiling.

“That’s hardly enough,” he said, anxiously. “You see the wind is so verystrong here. It’s as strong as soup.”

“Have you invented a plan for keeping the hair from being blown off?” Aliceenquired.

“Not yet,” said the Knight. “But I’ve got a plan for keeping it fromfallingoff.”

“I should like to hear it, very much.”

“First you take an upright stick,” said the Knight. “Then you make your haircreep up it, like a fruit-tree. Now the reason hair falls off is because ithangs down—things never fall upwards, you know. It’s a plan of myown invention. You may try it if you like.”

It didn’t sound a comfortable plan, Alice thought, and for a few minutes shewalked on in silence, puzzling over the idea, and every now and then stoppingto help the poor Knight, who certainly was nota good rider.

Whenever the horse stopped (which it did very often), he fell off in front; andwhenever it went on again (which it generally did rather suddenly), he fell offbehind. Otherwise he kept on pretty well, except that he had a habit of now andthen falling off sideways; and as he generally did this on the side on whichAlice was walking, she soon found that it was the best plan not to walkquiteclose to the horse.

“I’m afraid you’ve not had much practice in riding,” she ventured to say, asshe was helping him up from his fifth tumble.

The Knight looked very much surprised, and a little offended at the remark.“What makes you say that?” he asked, as he scrambled back into the saddle,keeping hold of Alice’s hair with one hand, to save himself from falling overon the other side.

“Because people don’t fall off quite so often, when they’ve had much practice.”

“I’ve had plenty of practice,” the Knight said very gravely: “plenty ofpractice!”

Alice could think of nothing better to say than “Indeed?” but she said it asheartily as she could. They went on a little way in silence after this, theKnight with his eyes shut, muttering to himself, and Alice watching anxiouslyfor the next tumble.

“The great art of riding,” the Knight suddenly began in a loud voice, wavinghis right arm as he spoke, “is to keep—” Here the sentence ended as suddenly asit had begun, as the Knight fell heavily on the top of his head exactly in thepath where Alice was walking. She was quite frightened this time, and said inan anxious tone, as she picked him up, “I hope no bones are broken?”

“None to speak of,” the Knight said, as if he didn’t mind breaking two or threeof them. “The great art of riding, as I was saying, is—to keep your balanceproperly. Like this, you know—”

He let go the bridle, and stretched out both his arms to show Alice what hemeant, and this time he fell flat on his back, right under the horse’s feet.

“Plenty of practice!” he went on repeating, all the time that Alice was gettinghim on his feet again. “Plenty of practice!”

“It’s too ridiculous!” cried Alice, losing all her patience this time. “Youought to have a wooden horse on wheels, that you ought!”

“Does that kind go smoothly?” the Knight asked in a tone of great interest,clasping his arms round the horse’s neck as he spoke, just in time to savehimself from tumbling off again.

“Much more smoothly than a live horse,” Alice said, with a little scream oflaughter, in spite of all she could do to prevent it.

“I’ll get one,” the Knight said thoughtfully to himself. “One or two—several.”

There was a short silence after this, and then the Knight went on again. “I’m agreat hand at inventing things. Now, I daresay you noticed, that last time youpicked me up, that I was looking rather thoughtful?”

“You werea little grave,” said Alice.

“Well, just then I was inventing a new way of getting over a gate—would youlike to hear it?”

“Very much indeed,” Alice said politely.

“I’ll tell you how I came to think of it,” said the Knight. “You see, I said tomyself, ‘The only difficulty is with the feet: the headis high enoughalready.’ Now, first I put my head on the top of the gate—then I stand on myhead—then the feet are high enough, you see—then I’m over, you see.”

“Yes, I suppose you’d be over when that was done,” Alice said thoughtfully:“but don’t you think it would be rather hard?”

“I haven’t tried it yet,” the Knight said, gravely: “so I can’t tell forcertain—but I’m afraid it wouldbe a little hard.”

He looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the subject hastily. “What acurious helmet you’ve got!” she said cheerfully. “Is that your invention too?”

The Knight looked down proudly at his helmet, which hung from the saddle.“Yes,” he said, “but I’ve invented a better one than that—like a sugar loaf.When I used to wear it, if I fell off the horse, it always touched the grounddirectly. So I had a verylittle way to fall, you see—But therewasthe danger of falling intoit, to be sure. That happened tome once—and the worst of it was, before I could get out again, the other WhiteKnight came and put it on. He thought it was his own helmet.”

The knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did not dare to laugh. “I’mafraid you must have hurt him,” she said in a trembling voice, “being on thetop of his head.”

“I had to kick him, of course,” the Knight said, very seriously. “And then hetook the helmet off again—but it took hours and hours to get me out. I was asfast as—as lightning, you know.”

“But that’s a different kind of fastness,” Alice objected.

The Knight shook his head. “It was all kinds of fastness with me, I can assureyou!” he said. He raised his hands in some excitement as he said this, andinstantly rolled out of the saddle, and fell headlong into a deep ditch.

Alice ran to the side of the ditch to look for him. She was rather startled bythe fall, as for some time he had kept on very well, and she was afraid that hereally washurt this time. However, though she could see nothing but thesoles of his feet, she was much relieved to hear that he was talking on in hisusual tone. “All kinds of fastness,” he repeated: “but it was careless of himto put another man’s helmet on—with the man in it, too.”

“How canyou go on talking so quietly, head downwards?” Alice asked, asshe dragged him out by the feet, and laid him in a heap on the bank.

The Knight looked surprised at the question. “What does it matter where my bodyhappens to be?” he said. “My mind goes on working all the same. In fact, themore head downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new things.”

“Now the cleverest thing of the sort that I ever did,” he went on after apause, “was inventing a new pudding during the meat-course.”

“In time to have it cooked for the next course?” said Alice.

“Well, not the nextcourse,” the Knight said in a slow thoughtfultone: “no, certainly not the next course.”

“Then it would have to be the next day. I suppose you wouldn’t have twopudding-courses in one dinner?”

“Well, not the nextday,” the Knight repeated as before: “not the nextday. In fact,” he went on, holding his head down, and his voice gettinglower and lower, “I don’t believe that pudding ever wascooked! In fact,I don’t believe that pudding ever willbe cooked! And yet it was a veryclever pudding to invent.”

“What did you mean it to be made of?” Alice asked, hoping to cheer him up, forthe poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.

“It began with blotting paper,” the Knight answered with a groan.

“That wouldn’t be very nice, I’m afraid—”

“Not very nice alone,” he interrupted, quite eagerly: “but you’ve noidea what a difference it makes mixing it with other things—such as gunpowderand sealing-wax. And here I must leave you.” They had just come to the end ofthe wood.

Alice could only look puzzled: she was thinking of the pudding.

“You are sad,” the Knight said in an anxious tone: “let me sing you a song tocomfort you.”

“Is it very long?” Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry thatday.

“It’s long,” said the Knight, “but very, verybeautiful. Everybody thathears me sing it—either it brings the tearsinto their eyes, or else—”

“Or else what?” said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.

“Or else it doesn’t, you know. The name of the song is called ‘Haddocks’Eyes.’”

“Oh, that’s the name of the song, is it?” Alice said, trying to feelinterested.

“No, you don’t understand,” the Knight said, looking a little vexed. “That’swhat the name is called. The name really is‘The Aged AgedMan.’”

“Then I ought to have said ‘That’s what the songis called’?” Alicecorrected herself.

“No, you oughtn’t: that’s quite another thing! The songis called‘Ways and Means’: but that’s only what it’s called, you know!”

“Well, what isthe song, then?” said Alice, who was by this timecompletely bewildered.

“I was coming to that,” the Knight said. “The song really is‘A-sitting On A Gate’: and the tune’s my own invention.”

So saying, he stopped his horse and let the reins fall on its neck: then,slowly beating time with one hand, and with a faint smile lighting up hisgentle foolish face, as if he enjoyed the music of his song, he began.

Of all the strange things that Alice saw in her journey Through TheLooking-Glass, this was the one that she always remembered most clearly. Yearsafterwards she could bring the whole scene back again, as if it had been onlyyesterday—the mild blue eyes and kindly smile of the Knight—the setting sungleaming through his hair, and shining on his armour in a blaze of light thatquite dazzled her—the horse quietly moving about, with the reins hanging looseon his neck, cropping the grass at her feet—and the black shadows of the forestbehind—all this she took in like a picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes,she leant against a tree, watching the strange pair, and listening, in a halfdream, to the melancholy music of the song.

“But the tune isn’this own invention,” she said to herself: “it’s ‘Igive thee all, I can no more.’” She stood and listened very attentively,but no tears came into her eyes.

“I’ll tell thee everything I can;
    There’s little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
    A-sitting on a gate.
‘Who are you, aged man?’ I said,
    ‘and how is it you live?’
And his answer trickled through my head
    Like water through a sieve.

He said ‘I look for butterflies
    That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
    And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,’ he said,
    ‘Who sail on stormy seas;
And that’s the way I get my bread—
    A trifle, if you please.’

But I was thinking of a plan
    To dye one’s whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
    That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
    To what the old man said,
I cried, ‘Come, tell me how you live!’
    And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:
    He said ‘I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
    I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
    Rolands’ Macassar Oil—
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
    They give me for my toil.’

But I was thinking of a way
    To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
    Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
    Until his face was blue:
‘Come, tell me how you live,’ I cried,
    ‘And what it is you do!’

He said ‘I hunt for haddocks’ eyes
    Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
    In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
    Or coin of silvery shine
But for a copper halfpenny,
    And that will purchase nine.

‘I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
    Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
    For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
And that’s the way’ (he gave a wink)
    ‘By which I get my wealth—
And very gladly will I drink
    Your Honour’s noble health.’

I heard him then, for I had just
    Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
    By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
    The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
    Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e’er by chance I put
    My fingers into glue
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
    Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
    A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so,
Of that old man I used to know—
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo—
That summer evening, long ago,
    A-sitting on a gate.”

As the Knight sang the last words of the ballad, he gathered up the reins, andturned his horse’s head along the road by which they had come. “You’ve only afew yards to go,” he said, “down the hill and over that little brook, and thenyou’ll be a Queen—But you’ll stay and see me off first?” he added as Aliceturned with an eager look in the direction to which he pointed. “I shan’t belong. You’ll wait and wave your handkerchief when I get to that turn in theroad? I think it’ll encourage me, you see.”

“Of course I’ll wait,” said Alice: “and thank you very much for coming sofar—and for the song—I liked it very much.”

“I hope so,” the Knight said doubtfully: “but you didn’t cry so much as Ithought you would.”

So they shook hands, and then the Knight rode slowly away into the forest. “Itwon’t take long to see him off, I expect,” Alice said to herself, as shestood watching him. “There he goes! Right on his head as usual! However, hegets on again pretty easily—that comes of having so many things hung round thehorse—” So she went on talking to herself, as she watched the horse walkingleisurely along the road, and the Knight tumbling off, first on one side andthen on the other. After the fourth or fifth tumble he reached the turn, andthen she waved her handkerchief to him, and waited till he was out of sight.

“I hope it encouraged him,” she said, as she turned to run down the hill: “andnow for the last brook, and to be a Queen! How grand it sounds!” A very fewsteps brought her to the edge of the brook. “The Eighth Square at last!” shecried as she bounded across,

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

    *      *      *      *      *      *

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

and threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss, with littleflower-beds dotted about it here and there. “Oh, how glad I am to get here! Andwhat isthis on my head?” she exclaimed in a tone of dismay, as she puther hands up to something very heavy, and fitted tight all round her head.

“But how canit have got there without my knowing it?” she said toherself, as she lifted it off, and set it on her lap to make out what it couldpossibly be.

It was a golden crown.

CHAPTER IX.
Queen Alice

“Well, this isgrand!” said Alice. “I never expected I should be a Queenso soon—and I’ll tell you what it is, your majesty,” she went on in a severetone (she was always rather fond of scolding herself), “it’ll never do for youto be lolling about on the grass like that! Queens have to be dignified, youknow!”

So she got up and walked about—rather stiffly just at first, as she was afraidthat the crown might come off: but she comforted herself with the thought thatthere was nobody to see her, “and if I really am a Queen,” she said as she satdown again, “I shall be able to manage it quite well in time.”

Everything was happening so oddly that she didn’t feel a bit surprised atfinding the Red Queen and the White Queen sitting close to her, one on eachside: she would have liked very much to ask them how they came there, but shefeared it would not be quite civil. However, there would be no harm, shethought, in asking if the game was over. “Please, would you tell me—” shebegan, looking timidly at the Red Queen.

“Speak when you’re spoken to!” The Queen sharply interrupted her.

“But if everybody obeyed that rule,” said Alice, who was always ready for alittle argument, “and if you only spoke when you were spoken to, and the otherperson always waited for youto begin, you see nobody would ever sayanything, so that—”

“Ridiculous!” cried the Queen. “Why, don’t you see, child—” here she broke offwith a frown, and, after thinking for a minute, suddenly changed the subject ofthe conversation. “What do you mean by ‘If you really are a Queen’? What righthave you to call yourself so? You can’t be a Queen, you know, till you’vepassed the proper examination. And the sooner we begin it, the better.”

“I only said ‘if’!” poor Alice pleaded in a piteous tone.

The two Queens looked at each other, and the Red Queen remarked, with a littleshudder, “She saysshe only said ‘if’—”

“But she said a great deal more than that!” the White Queen moaned, wringingher hands. “Oh, ever so much more than that!”

“So you did, you know,” the Red Queen said to Alice. “Always speak thetruth—think before you speak—and write it down afterwards.”

“I’m sure I didn’t mean—” Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen interruptedher impatiently.

“That’s just what I complain of! You shouldhave meant! What do yousuppose is the use of child without any meaning? Even a joke should have somemeaning—and a child’s more important than a joke, I hope. You couldn’t denythat, even if you tried with both hands.”

“I don’t deny things with my hands,” Alice objected.

“Nobody said you did,” said the Red Queen. “I said you couldn’t if you tried.”

“She’s in that state of mind,” said the White Queen, “that she wants to denysomething—only she doesn’t know what to deny!”

“A nasty, vicious temper,” the Red Queen remarked; and then there was anuncomfortable silence for a minute or two.

The Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, “I invite you toAlice’s dinner-party this afternoon.”

The White Queen smiled feebly, and said “And I invite you.”

“I didn’t know I was to have a party at all,” said Alice; “but if there is tobe one, I think Iought to invite the guests.”

“We gave you the opportunity of doing it,” the Red Queen remarked: “but Idaresay you’ve not had many lessons in manners yet?”

“Manners are not taught in lessons,” said Alice. “Lessons teach you to do sums,and things of that sort.”

“And you do Addition?” the White Queen asked. “What’s one and one and one andone and one and one and one and one and one and one?”

“I don’t know,” said Alice. “I lost count.”

“She can’t do Addition,” the Red Queen interrupted. “Can you do Subtraction?Take nine from eight.”

“Nine from eight I can’t, you know,” Alice replied very readily: “but—”

“She can’t do Subtraction,” said the White Queen. “Can you do Division? Dividea loaf by a knife—what’s the answer to that?”

“I suppose—” Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her.“Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone from adog: what remains?”

Alice considered. “The bone wouldn’t remain, of course, if I took it—and thedog wouldn’t remain; it would come to bite me—and I’m sure Ishouldn’tremain!”

“Then you think nothing would remain?” said the Red Queen.

“I think that’s the answer.”

“Wrong, as usual,” said the Red Queen: “the dog’s temper would remain.”

“But I don’t see how—”

“Why, look here!” the Red Queen cried. “The dog would lose its temper, wouldn’tit?”

“Perhaps it would,” Alice replied cautiously.

“Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!” the Queen exclaimedtriumphantly.

Alice said, as gravely as she could, “They might go different ways.” But shecouldn’t help thinking to herself, “What dreadful nonsense we aretalking!”

“She can’t do sums a bit!” the Queens said together, with greatemphasis.

“Can youdo sums?” Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen, forshe didn’t like being found fault with so much.

The Queen gasped and shut her eyes. “I can do Addition, if you give me time—butI can’t do Subtraction, under anycircumstances!”

“Of course you know your A B C?” said the Red Queen.

“To be sure I do.” said Alice.

“So do I,” the White Queen whispered: “we’ll often say it over together, dear.And I’ll tell you a secret—I can read words of one letter! Isn’t thatgrand! However, don’t be discouraged. You’ll come to it in time.”

Here the Red Queen began again. “Can you answer useful questions?” she said.“How is bread made?”

“I know that!” Alice cried eagerly. “You take some flour—”

“Where do you pick the flower?” the White Queen asked. “In a garden, or in thehedges?”

“Well, it isn’t pickedat all,” Alice explained: “it’s ground—”

“How many acres of ground?” said the White Queen. “You mustn’t leave out somany things.”

“Fan her head!” the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. “She’ll be feverish afterso much thinking.” So they set to work and fanned her with bunches of leaves,till she had to beg them to leave off, it blew her hair about so.

“She’s all right again now,” said the Red Queen. “Do you know Languages? What’sthe French for fiddle-de-dee?”

“Fiddle-de-dee’s not English,” Alice replied gravely.

“Who ever said it was?” said the Red Queen.

Alice thought she saw a way out of the difficulty this time. “If you’ll tell mewhat language ‘fiddle-de-dee’ is, I’ll tell you the French for it!” sheexclaimed triumphantly.

But the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said “Queens never makebargains.”

“I wish Queens never asked questions,” Alice thought to herself.

“Don’t let us quarrel,” the White Queen said in an anxious tone. “What is thecause of lightning?”

“The cause of lightning,” Alice said very decidedly, for she felt quite certainabout this, “is the thunder—no, no!” she hastily corrected herself. “I meantthe other way.”

“It’s too late to correct it,” said the Red Queen: “when you’ve once said athing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences.”

“Which reminds me—” the White Queen said, looking down and nervously claspingand unclasping her hands, “we had sucha thunderstorm last Tuesday—Imean one of the last set of Tuesdays, you know.”

Alice was puzzled. “In ourcountry,” she remarked, “there’s only one dayat a time.”

The Red Queen said, “That’s a poor thin way of doing things. Now here,we mostly have days and nights two or three at a time, and sometimes in thewinter we take as many as five nights together—for warmth, you know.”

“Are five nights warmer than one night, then?” Alice ventured to ask.

“Five times as warm, of course.”

“But they should be five times as cold, by the same rule—”

“Just so!” cried the Red Queen. “Five times as warm, andfive times ascold—just as I’m five times as rich as you are, andfive times asclever!”

Alice sighed and gave it up. “It’s exactly like a riddle with no answer!” shethought.

“Humpty Dumpty saw it too,” the White Queen went on in a low voice, more as ifshe were talking to herself. “He came to the door with a corkscrew in hishand—”

“What did he want?” said the Red Queen.

“He said he wouldcome in,” the White Queen went on, “because he waslooking for a hippopotamus. Now, as it happened, there wasn’t such a thing inthe house, that morning.”

“Is there generally?” Alice asked in an astonished tone.

“Well, only on Thursdays,” said the Queen.

“I know what he came for,” said Alice: “he wanted to punish the fish, because—”

Here the White Queen began again. “It was sucha thunderstorm, you can’tthink!” (“She nevercould, you know,” said the Red Queen.) “And part ofthe roof came off, and ever so much thunder got in—and it went rolling roundthe room in great lumps—and knocking over the tables and things—till I was sofrightened, I couldn’t remember my own name!”

Alice thought to herself, “I never should tryto remember my name in themiddle of an accident! Where would be the use of it?” but she did not say thisaloud, for fear of hurting the poor Queen’s feeling.

“Your Majesty must excuse her,” the Red Queen said to Alice, taking one of theWhite Queen’s hands in her own, and gently stroking it: “she means well, butshe can’t help saying foolish things, as a general rule.”

The White Queen looked timidly at Alice, who felt she oughtto saysomething kind, but really couldn’t think of anything at the moment.

“She never was really well brought up,” the Red Queen went on: “but it’samazing how good-tempered she is! Pat her on the head, and see how pleasedshe’ll be!” But this was more than Alice had courage to do.

“A little kindness—and putting her hair in papers—would do wonders with her—”

The White Queen gave a deep sigh, and laid her head on Alice’s shoulder. “Iamso sleepy!” she moaned.

“She’s tired, poor thing!” said the Red Queen. “Smooth her hair—lend her yournightcap—and sing her a soothing lullaby.”

“I haven’t got a nightcap with me,” said Alice, as she tried to obey the firstdirection: “and I don’t know any soothing lullabies.”

“I must do it myself, then,” said the Red Queen, and she began:

“Hush-a-by lady, in Alice’s lap!
Till the feast’s ready, we’ve time for a nap:
When the feast’s over, we’ll go to the ball—
Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!

“And now you know the words,” she added, as she put her head down on Alice’sother shoulder, “just sing it through to me. I’m getting sleepy, too.”In another moment both Queens were fast asleep, and snoring loud.

“What amI to do?” exclaimed Alice, looking about in great perplexity,as first one round head, and then the other, rolled down from her shoulder, andlay like a heavy lump in her lap. “I don’t think it everhappenedbefore, that any one had to take care of two Queens asleep at once! No, not inall the History of England—it couldn’t, you know, because there never was morethan one Queen at a time. Do wake up, you heavy things!” she went on in animpatient tone; but there was no answer but a gentle snoring.

The snoring got more distinct every minute, and sounded more like a tune: atlast she could even make out the words, and she listened so eagerly that, whenthe two great heads vanished from her lap, she hardly missed them.

She was standing before an arched doorway over which were the words QUEEN ALICEin large letters, and on each side of the arch there was a bell-handle; one wasmarked “Visitors’ Bell,” and the other “Servants’ Bell.”

“I’ll wait till the song’s over,” thought Alice, “and then I’llring—the—whichbell must I ring?” she went on, very much puzzled by thenames. “I’m not a visitor, and I’m not a servant. There oughtto be onemarked ‘Queen,’ you know—”

Just then the door opened a little way, and a creature with a long beak put itshead out for a moment and said “No admittance till the week after next!” andshut the door again with a bang.

Alice knocked and rang in vain for a long time, but at last, a very old Frog,who was sitting under a tree, got up and hobbled slowly towards her: he wasdressed in bright yellow, and had enormous boots on.

“What is it, now?” the Frog said in a deep hoarse whisper.

Alice turned round, ready to find fault with anybody. “Where’s the servantwhose business it is to answer the door?” she began angrily.

“Which door?” said the Frog.

Alice almost stamped with irritation at the slow drawl in which he spoke.“Thisdoor, of course!”

The Frog looked at the door with his large dull eyes for a minute: then he wentnearer and rubbed it with his thumb, as if he were trying whether the paintwould come off; then he looked at Alice.

“To answer the door?” he said. “What’s it been asking of?” He was so hoarsethat Alice could scarcely hear him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“I talks English, doesn’t I?” the Frog went on. “Or are you deaf? What did itask you?”

“Nothing!” Alice said impatiently. “I’ve been knocking at it!”

“Shouldn’t do that—shouldn’t do that—” the Frog muttered. “Vexes it, you know.”Then he went up and gave the door a kick with one of his great feet. “You letitalone,” he panted out, as he hobbled back to his tree, “and it’ll letyoualone, you know.”

At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing:

“To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said,
‘I’ve a sceptre in hand, I’ve a crown on my head;
Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be,
Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me.’”

And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus:

“Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,
And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:
Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea—
And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!”

Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself,“Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one’s counting?” In a minutethere was silence again, and the same shrill voice sang another verse;

“‘O Looking-Glass creatures,’ quoth Alice, ‘draw near!
’Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:
’Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea
Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!’”

Then came the chorus again:—

“Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,
Or anything else that is pleasant to drink:
Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine—
And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!”

“Ninety times nine!” Alice repeated in despair, “Oh, that’ll never be done! I’dbetter go in at once—” and there was a dead silence the moment she appeared.

Alice glanced nervously along the table, as she walked up the large hall, andnoticed that there were about fifty guests, of all kinds: some were animals,some birds, and there were even a few flowers among them. “I’m glad they’vecome without waiting to be asked,” she thought: “I should never have known whowere the right people to invite!”

There were three chairs at the head of the table; the Red and White Queens hadalready taken two of them, but the middle one was empty. Alice sat down in it,rather uncomfortable in the silence, and longing for some one to speak.

At last the Red Queen began. “You’ve missed the soup and fish,” she said. “Puton the joint!” And the waiters set a leg of mutton before Alice, who looked atit rather anxiously, as she had never had to carve a joint before.

“You look a little shy; let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,” said theRed Queen. “Alice—Mutton; Mutton—Alice.” The leg of mutton got up in the dishand made a little bow to Alice; and Alice returned the bow, not knowing whetherto be frightened or amused.

“May I give you a slice?” she said, taking up the knife and fork, and lookingfrom one Queen to the other.

“Certainly not,” the Red Queen said, very decidedly: “it isn’t etiquette to cutany one you’ve been introduced to. Remove the joint!” And the waiters carriedit off, and brought a large plum-pudding in its place.

“I won’t be introduced to the pudding, please,” Alice said rather hastily, “orwe shall get no dinner at all. May I give you some?”

But the Red Queen looked sulky, and growled “Pudding—Alice; Alice—Pudding.Remove the pudding!” and the waiters took it away so quickly that Alicecouldn’t return its bow.

However, she didn’t see why the Red Queen should be the only one to giveorders, so, as an experiment, she called out “Waiter! Bring back the pudding!”and there it was again in a moment like a conjuring-trick. It was so large thatshe couldn’t help feeling a littleshy with it, as she had been with themutton; however, she conquered her shyness by a great effort and cut a sliceand handed it to the Red Queen.

“What impertinence!” said the Pudding. “I wonder how you’d like it, if I wereto cut a slice out of you, you creature!”

It spoke in a thick, suety sort of voice, and Alice hadn’t a word to say inreply: she could only sit and look at it and gasp.

“Make a remark,” said the Red Queen: “it’s ridiculous to leave all theconversation to the pudding!”

“Do you know, I’ve had such a quantity of poetry repeated to me to-day,” Alicebegan, a little frightened at finding that, the moment she opened her lips,there was dead silence, and all eyes were fixed upon her; “and it’s a verycurious thing, I think—every poem was about fishes in some way. Do you know whythey’re so fond of fishes, all about here?”

She spoke to the Red Queen, whose answer was a little wide of the mark. “As tofishes,” she said, very slowly and solemnly, putting her mouth close to Alice’sear, “her White Majesty knows a lovely riddle—all in poetry—all about fishes.Shall she repeat it?”

“Her Red Majesty’s very kind to mention it,” the White Queen murmured intoAlice’s other ear, in a voice like the cooing of a pigeon. “It would besucha treat! May I?”

“Please do,” Alice said very politely.

The White Queen laughed with delight, and stroked Alice’s cheek. Then shebegan:

    “‘First, the fish must be caught.’
That is easy: a baby, I think, could have caught it.
    ‘Next, the fish must be bought.’
That is easy: a penny, I think, would have bought it.

    ‘Now cook me the fish!’
That is easy, and will not take more than a minute.
    ‘Let it lie in a dish!’
That is easy, because it already is in it.

    ‘Bring it here! Let me sup!’
It is easy to set such a dish on the table.
    ‘Take the dish-cover up!’
Ah, that is so hard that I fear I’m unable!

    For it holds it like glue—
Holds the lid to the dish, while it lies in the middle:
    Which is easiest to do,
Un-dish-cover the fish, or dishcover the riddle?”

“Take a minute to think about it, and then guess,” said the Red Queen.“Meanwhile, we’ll drink your health—Queen Alice’s health!” she screamed at thetop of her voice, and all the guests began drinking it directly, and veryqueerly they managed it: some of them put their glasses upon their heads likeextinguishers, and drank all that trickled down their faces—others upset thedecanters, and drank the wine as it ran off the edges of the table—and three ofthem (who looked like kangaroos) scrambled into the dish of roast mutton, andbegan eagerly lapping up the gravy, “just like pigs in a trough!” thoughtAlice.

“You ought to return thanks in a neat speech,” the Red Queen said, frowning atAlice as she spoke.

“We must support you, you know,” the White Queen whispered, as Alice got up todo it, very obediently, but a little frightened.

“Thank you very much,” she whispered in reply, “but I can do quite wellwithout.”

“That wouldn’t be at all the thing,” the Red Queen said very decidedly: soAlice tried to submit to it with a good grace.

(“And they didpush so!” she said afterwards, when she was telling hersister the history of the feast. “You would have thought they wanted to squeezeme flat!”)

In fact it was rather difficult for her to keep in her place while she made herspeech: the two Queens pushed her so, one on each side, that they nearly liftedher up into the air: “I rise to return thanks—” Alice began: and she reallydidrise as she spoke, several inches; but she got hold of the edge ofthe table, and managed to pull herself down again.

“Take care of yourself!” screamed the White Queen, seizing Alice’s hair withboth her hands. “Something’s going to happen!”

And then (as Alice afterwards described it) all sorts of things happened in amoment. The candles all grew up to the ceiling, looking something like a bed ofrushes with fireworks at the top. As to the bottles, they each took a pair ofplates, which they hastily fitted on as wings, and so, with forks for legs,went fluttering about in all directions: “and very like birds they look,” Alicethought to herself, as well as she could in the dreadful confusion that wasbeginning.

At this moment she heard a hoarse laugh at her side, and turned to see what wasthe matter with the White Queen; but, instead of the Queen, there was the legof mutton sitting in the chair. “Here I am!” cried a voice from the souptureen, and Alice turned again, just in time to see the Queen’s broadgood-natured face grinning at her for a moment over the edge of the tureen,before she disappeared into the soup.

There was not a moment to be lost. Already several of the guests were lyingdown in the dishes, and the soup ladle was walking up the table towards Alice’schair, and beckoning to her impatiently to get out of its way.

“I can’t stand this any longer!” she cried as she jumped up and seized thetable-cloth with both hands: one good pull, and plates, dishes, guests, andcandles came crashing down together in a heap on the floor.

“And as for you,” she went on, turning fiercely upon the Red Queen, whomshe considered as the cause of all the mischief—but the Queen was no longer ather side—she had suddenly dwindled down to the size of a little doll, and wasnow on the table, merrily running round and round after her own shawl, whichwas trailing behind her.

At any other time, Alice would have felt surprised at this, but she was far toomuch excited to be surprised at anything now. “As for you,” sherepeated, catching hold of the little creature in the very act of jumping overa bottle which had just lighted upon the table, “I’ll shake you into a kitten,that I will!”

CHAPTER X.
Shaking

She took her off the table as she spoke, and shook her backwards and forwardswith all her might.

The Red Queen made no resistance whatever; only her face grew very small, andher eyes got large and green: and still, as Alice went on shaking her, she kepton growing shorter—and fatter—and softer—and rounder—and—

CHAPTER XI.
Waking

—and it really wasa kitten, after all.

CHAPTER XII.
Which Dreamed it?

“Your majesty shouldn’t purr so loud,” Alice said, rubbing her eyes, andaddressing the kitten, respectfully, yet with some severity. “You woke me outof oh! such a nice dream! And you’ve been along with me, Kitty—all through theLooking-Glass world. Did you know it, dear?”

It is a very inconvenient habit of kittens (Alice had once made the remark)that, whatever you say to them, they alwayspurr. “If they would onlypurr for ‘yes’ and mew for ‘no,’ or any rule of that sort,” she had said, “sothat one could keep up a conversation! But how canyou talk with aperson if they always say the same thing?”

On this occasion the kitten only purred: and it was impossible to guess whetherit meant “yes” or “no.”

So Alice hunted among the chessmen on the table till she had found the RedQueen: then she went down on her knees on the hearth-rug, and put the kittenand the Queen to look at each other. “Now, Kitty!” she cried, clapping herhands triumphantly. “Confess that was what you turned into!”

(“But it wouldn’t look at it,” she said, when she was explaining the thingafterwards to her sister: “it turned away its head, and pretended not to seeit: but it looked a littleashamed of itself, so I think it musthave been the Red Queen.”)

“Sit up a little more stiffly, dear!” Alice cried with a merry laugh. “Andcurtsey while you’re thinking what to—what to purr. It saves time, remember!”And she caught it up and gave it one little kiss, “just in honour of havingbeen a Red Queen.”

“Snowdrop, my pet!” she went on, looking over her shoulder at the White Kitten,which was still patiently undergoing its toilet, “when willDinah havefinished with your White Majesty, I wonder? That must be the reason you were sountidy in my dream—Dinah! do you know that you’re scrubbing a White Queen?Really, it’s most disrespectful of you!

“And what did Dinahturn to, I wonder?” she prattled on, as she settledcomfortably down, with one elbow in the rug, and her chin in her hand, to watchthe kittens. “Tell me, Dinah, did you turn to Humpty Dumpty? I thinkyoudid—however, you’d better not mention it to your friends just yet, for I’m notsure.

“By the way, Kitty, if only you’d been really with me in my dream, there wasone thing you wouldhave enjoyed—I had such a quantity of poetry said tome, all about fishes! To-morrow morning you shall have a real treat. All thetime you’re eating your breakfast, I’ll repeat ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’to you; and then you can make believe it’s oysters, dear!

“Now, Kitty, let’s consider who it was that dreamed it all. This is a seriousquestion, my dear, and you should notgo on licking your paw likethat—as if Dinah hadn’t washed you this morning! You see, Kitty, it musthave been either me or the Red King. He was part of my dream, of course—butthen I was part of his dream, too! Wasit the Red King, Kitty? You werehis wife, my dear, so you ought to know—Oh, Kitty, dohelp to settle it!I’m sure your paw can wait!” But the provoking kitten only began on the otherpaw, and pretended it hadn’t heard the question.

Which do youthink it was?

A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July—

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear—

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die.
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream—
Lingering in the golden gleam—
Life, what is it but a dream?

THE END

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