Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll is the sequel to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. In this story, Alice steps through a mirror into a fantastical world where everything is reversed, like a chessboard. As she navigates this surreal landscape filled with peculiar characters like Tweedledum and Tweedledee, the Red Queen, and Humpty Dumpty, Alice embarks on a journey to become a queen herself, ultimately awakening to realize it was all a dream.
- Chapter 1: Looking-Glass House
- Chapter 2: The Garden of Live Flowers
- Chapter 3: Looking-Glass Insects
- Chapter 4: Tweedledum And Tweedledee
- Chapter 5: Wool and Water
- Chapter 6: Humpty Dumpty
- Chapter 7: The Lion and the Unicorn
- Chapter 8: âItâs my own Inventionâ
- Chapter 9: Queen Alice
- Chapter 10: Shaking
- Chapter 11: Waking
- Chapter 12: Which Dreamed it?
- Free downloads: PDF & Audiobook
Chapter 1: Looking-Glass House
One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it:âit was the black kittenâs fault entirely. For the white kitten had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour (and bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it couldnât have had any hand in the mischief.
The way Dinah washed her childrenâs faces was this: first she held the poor thing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other paw she rubbed its face 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 and trying to purrâno 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, half talking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had been having a grand game of romps with the ball of worsted Alice had been trying to wind up, and had been rolling 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 running after its own tail in the middle.
âOh, you wicked little thing!â cried Alice, catching up the kitten, and giving it a little kiss to make it understand that it was in disgrace. âReally, Dinah ought to have taught you better manners! You ought, Dinah, you know you ought!â she added, looking reproachfully at the old cat, and speaking in as cross a voice as she could manageâand then she scrambled back into the arm-chair, taking the kitten and the worsted with her, and began winding up the ball again. But she didnât get on very fast, as she was talking all the time, sometimes to the kitten, and sometimes to herself. Kitty sat very demurely on her knee, pretending to watch the progress of the winding, and now and then putting out one paw and gently touching the ball, as if it would be glad to help, if it might.

âDo you know what to-morrow is, Kitty?â Alice began. âYouâd have guessed if youâd been up in the window with meâonly Dinah was making you tidy, so you couldnât. I was watching the boys getting in sticks for the bonfireâand it wants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so cold, and it snowed so, they had to leave off. Never mind, Kitty, weâll go and see the bonfire to-morrow.â Here Alice wound two or three turns of the worsted round the kittenâs neck, just to see how it would look: this led to a scramble, in which the ball rolled down upon the floor, and yards and yards of it got unwound again.
âDo you know, I was so angry, Kitty,â Alice went on as soon as they were comfortably settled again, âwhen I saw all the mischief you had been doing, I was very nearly opening the window, and putting you out into the snow! And youâd have deserved it, you little mischievous darling! What have you got to say for yourself? Now donât interrupt me!â she went on, holding up one finger. âIâm going to tell you all your faults. Number one: you squeaked twice while Dinah was washing your face this morning. Now you canât deny it, Kitty: I heard you! Whatâs that you say?â (pretending that the kitten was speaking.) âHer paw went into your eye? Well, thatâs your fault, for keeping your eyes openâif youâd shut them tight up, it wouldnât have happened. Now donât make any more excuses, but listen! Number two: you pulled Snowdrop away by the tail just as I had put down the saucer of milk before her! What, you were thirsty, were you? How do you know she wasnât thirsty too? Now for number three: you unwound every bit of the worsted while I wasnât looking!
âThatâs three faults, Kitty, and youâve not been punished for any of them yet. You know Iâm saving up all your punishments for Wednesday weekâSuppose they had saved up all my punishments!â she went on, talking more to herself than the kitten. âWhat would they do at the end of a year? I should be sent to prison, I suppose, when the day came. Orâlet me seeâsuppose each punishment was to be going without a dinner: then, when the miserable day came, I should have to go without fifty dinners at once! Well, I shouldnât mind that much! Iâd far rather go without them than eat them!
âDo you hear the snow against the window-panes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, âGo to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.â And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green, and dance aboutâwhenever the wind blowsâoh, thatâs very pretty!â cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap her hands. âAnd I do so wish it was true! Iâm sure the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown.
âKitty, can you play chess? Now, donât smile, my dear, Iâm asking it seriously. Because, when we were playing just now, you watched just as if you understood it: and when I said âCheck!â you purred! Well, it was a nice check, Kitty, and really I might have won, if it hadnât been for that nasty Knight, that came wiggling down among my pieces. Kitty, dear, letâs pretendââ And here I wish I could tell you half the things Alice used to say, beginning with her favourite phrase âLetâs pretend.â She had had quite a long argument with her sister only the day beforeâall because Alice had begun with âLetâs pretend weâre kings and queens;â and her sister, who liked being very exact, had argued that they couldnât, because there were only two of them, and Alice had been reduced at last to say, âWell, you can be one of them then, and Iâll be all the rest.â And once she had really frightened her old nurse by shouting suddenly in her ear, âNurse! Do letâs pretend that Iâm a hungry hyaena, and youâre a bone.â
But this is taking us away from Aliceâs speech to the kitten. âLetâs pretend that youâre the Red Queen, Kitty! Do you know, I think if you sat up and folded your arms, youâd look exactly like her. Now do try, thereâs a dear!â And Alice got the Red Queen off the table, and set it up before the kitten as a model for it to imitate: however, the thing didnât succeed, principally, Alice said, because the kitten wouldnât fold its arms properly. So, to punish it, she held it up to the Looking-glass, that it might see how sulky it wasââand if youâre not good directly,â she added, âIâll put you through into Looking-glass House. How would you like that?â
âNow, if youâll only attend, Kitty, and not talk so much, Iâll tell you all my ideas about Looking-glass House. First, thereâs the room you can see through the glassâthatâs just the same as our drawing room, only the things go the other way. I can see all of it when I get upon a chairâall but the bit behind the fireplace. Oh! I do so wish I could see that bit! I want so much to know whether theyâve a fire in the winter: you never can tell, you know, unless our fire smokes, and then smoke comes up in that room tooâbut that may be only pretence, just to make it look as if they had a fire. Well then, the books are something like our books, only the words go the wrong way; I know that, because Iâve held up one of our books to the glass, and then they hold up one in the other room.
âHow would you like to live in Looking-glass House, Kitty? I wonder if theyâd give you milk in there? Perhaps Looking-glass milk isnât good to drinkâBut oh, Kitty! now we come to the passage. You can just see a little peep of the passage in Looking-glass House, if you leave the door of our drawing-room wide open: and itâs very like our passage as far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond. Oh, Kitty! how nice it would be if we could only get through into Looking-glass House! Iâm sure itâs got, oh! such beautiful things in it! Letâs pretend thereâs a way of getting through into it, somehow, Kitty. Letâs pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we can get through. Why, itâs turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! Itâll be easy enough to get throughââ She was up on the chimney-piece while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly the glass was beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist.

In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down into the Looking-glass room. The very first thing she did was to look whether there was a fire in the fireplace, and she was quite pleased to find that there was a real one, blazing away as brightly as the one she had left behind. âSo I shall be as warm here as I was in the old room,â thought Alice: âwarmer, in fact, because thereâll be no one here to scold me away from the fire. Oh, what fun itâll be, when they see me through the glass in here, and canât get at me!â
Then she began looking about, and noticed that what could be seen from the old room was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest was as different as possible. For instance, the pictures on the wall next the fire seemed to be all alive, and the very clock on the chimney-piece (you know you can only see the back of it in the Looking-glass) had got the face of a little old man, and grinned at her.
âThey donât keep this room so tidy as the other,â Alice thought to herself, as she noticed several of the chessmen down in the hearth among the cinders: but in another moment, with a little âOh!â of surprise, she was down on her hands and knees watching them. The chessmen were walking about, two and two!
âHere are the Red King and the Red Queen,â Alice said (in a whisper, for fear of frightening them), âand there are the White King and the White Queen sitting on the edge of the shovelâand here are two castles walking arm in armâI donât think they can hear me,â she went on, as she put her head closer down, âand Iâm nearly sure they canât see me. I feel somehow as if I were invisibleââ
Here something began squeaking on the table behind Alice, and made her turn her head 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.
âIt is the voice of my child!â the White Queen cried out as she rushed past the King, so violently that she knocked him over among the cinders. âMy precious Lily! My imperial kitten!â and she began scrambling wildly up the side of the fender.
âImperial fiddlestick!â said the King, rubbing his nose, which had been hurt by the fall. He had a right to be a little annoyed with the Queen, for he was covered with ashes from head to foot.
Alice was very anxious to be of use, and, as the poor little Lily was nearly screaming herself into a fit, she hastily picked up the Queen and set her on the table by the side of her noisy little daughter.
The Queen gasped, and sat down: the rapid journey through the air had quite taken away her breath and for a minute or two she could do nothing but hug the little Lily in silence. As soon as she had recovered her breath a little, she called out to the White King, who was sitting sulkily among the ashes, âMind the volcano!â
âWhat volcano?â said the King, looking up anxiously into the fire, as if he thought that was the most likely place to find one.
âBlewâmeâup,â panted the Queen, who was still a little out of breath. âMind you come upâthe regular wayâdonât get blown up!â
Alice watched the White King as he slowly struggled up from bar to bar, till at last she said, âWhy, youâll be hours and hours getting to the table, at that rate. Iâd far better help you, hadnât I?â But the King took no notice of the question: 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 she had lifted the Queen, that she mightnât take his breath away: but, before she put him on the table, she thought she might as well dust him a little, he was so covered with ashes.
She said afterwards that she had never seen in all her life such a face as the King made, when he found himself held in the air by an invisible hand, and being dusted: he was far too much astonished to cry out, but his eyes and his mouth went on getting larger and larger, and rounder and rounder, till her hand shook so with laughing that she nearly let him drop upon the floor.
âOh! please donât make such faces, my dear!â she cried out, quite forgetting that the King couldnât hear her. âYou make me laugh so that I can hardly hold you! And donât keep your mouth so wide open! All the ashes will get into itâthere, now I think youâre tidy enough!â she added, as she smoothed his hair, and set him upon the table near the Queen.
The King immediately fell flat on his back, and lay perfectly still: and Alice was a little alarmed at what she had done, and went round the room to see if she could find any water to throw over him. However, she could find nothing but a bottle of ink, and when she got back with it she found he had recovered, and he and the Queen were talking together in a frightened whisperâso low, that Alice could hardly hear what they said.
The King was saying, âI assure, you my dear, I turned cold to the very ends of my whiskers!â
To which the Queen replied, âYou havenât got any whiskers.â
âThe horror of that moment,â the King went on, âI shall never, never forget!â
âYou will, though,â the Queen said, âif you donât make a memorandum of it.â
Alice looked on with great interest as the King took an enormous memorandum-book out of his pocket, and began writing. A sudden thought struck her, and she took hold of the end of the pencil, which came some way over his shoulder, and began writing for him.

The poor King looked puzzled and unhappy, and struggled with the pencil for some time without saying anything; but Alice was too strong for him, and at last he panted out, âMy dear! I really must get a thinner pencil. I canât manage this one a bit; it writes all manner of things that I donât intendââ
âWhat manner of things?â said the Queen, looking over the book (in which Alice had put âThe White Knight is sliding down the poker. He balances very badlyâ) âThatâs not a memorandum of your feelings!â
There was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat watching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him, and had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again), she turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read, ââfor itâs all in some language I donât know,â she said to herself.
It was like this.
.YKCOWREBBAJ
sevot yhtils eht dna, gillirb sawTâ
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. âWhy, itâs a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again.â
This was the poem that Alice read.

JABBERWOCKY.
âTwas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
âBeware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!â
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he soughtâ
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.
âAnd hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!â
He chortled in his joy.
âTwas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

âIt seems very pretty,â she said when she had finished it, âbut itâs rather hard to understand!â (You see she didnât like to confess, even to herself, that she couldnât make it out at all.) âSomehow it seems to fill my head with ideasâonly I donât exactly know what they are! However, somebody killed something: thatâs clear, at any rateââ
âBut oh!â thought Alice, suddenly jumping up, âif I donât make haste I shall have to go back through the Looking-glass, before Iâve seen what the rest of the house is like! Letâs have a look at the garden first!â She was out of the room in a moment, and ran down stairsâor, at least, it wasnât exactly running, but a new invention of hers for getting down stairs quickly and easily, as Alice 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; then she floated on through the hall, and would have gone straight out at the door in the same way, if she hadnât caught hold of the door-post. She was getting a little giddy with so much floating in the air, and was rather glad to find herself walking again in the natural way.
Chapter 2: The Garden of Live Flowers
âI should see the garden far better,â said Alice to herself, âif I could get to the top of that hill: and hereâs a path that leads straight to itâat least, no, it doesnât do thatââ (after going a few yards along the path, and turning several sharp corners), âbut I suppose it will at last. But how curiously it twists! Itâs more like a corkscrew than a path! Well, this turn goes to the hill, I supposeâno, it doesnât! This goes straight back to the house! Well then, Iâll try it the other way.â
And so she did: wandering up and down, and trying turn after turn, but always coming back to the house, do what she would. Indeed, once, when she turned a corner rather more quickly than usual, she ran against it before she could stop herself.
âItâs no use talking about it,â Alice said, looking up at the house and pretending it was arguing with her. âIâm not going in again yet. I know I should have to get through the Looking-glass againâback into the old roomâand thereâd be an end of all my adventures!â
So, resolutely turning her back upon the house, she set out once more down the path, determined to keep straight on till she got to the hill. For a few minutes all went on well, and she was just saying, âI really shall do it this timeââ when the path gave a sudden twist and shook itself (as she described it afterwards), and the next moment she found herself actually walking in at the door.
âOh, itâs too bad!â she cried. âI never saw such a house for getting in the way! Never!â
However, there was the hill full in sight, so there was nothing to be done but start again. This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with a border of daisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle.
âO Tiger-lily,â said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving gracefully about in the wind, âI wish you could talk!â
âWe can talk,â said the Tiger-lily: âwhen thereâs anybody worth talking to.â

Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite seemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went on waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voiceâalmost in a whisper. âAnd can all the flowers talk?â
âAs well as you can,â said the Tiger-lily. âAnd a great deal louder.â
âIt isnât manners for us to begin, you know,â said the Rose, âand I really was wondering when youâd speak! Said I to myself, âHer face has got some sense in it, though itâs not a clever one!â Still, youâre the right colour, and that goes a long way.â
âI donât care about the colour,â the Tiger-lily remarked. âIf only her petals curled up a little more, sheâd be all right.â
Alice didnât like being criticised, so she began asking questions. âArenât you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to take care of you?â
âThereâs the tree in the middle,â said the Rose: âwhat else is it good for?â
âBut what could it do, if any danger came?â Alice asked.
âIt says âBough-wough!ââ cried a Daisy: âthatâs why its branches are called boughs!â
âDidnât you know that?â cried another Daisy, and here they all began shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices. âSilence, every one of you!â cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. âThey know I canât get at them!â it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, âor they wouldnât dare to do it!â
âNever mind!â Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, âIf you donât hold your tongues, Iâll pick you!â
There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned white.
âThatâs right!â said the Tiger-lily. âThe daisies are worst of all. When one speaks, they all begin together, and itâs enough to make one wither to hear the way they go on!â
âHow is it you can all talk so nicely?â Alice said, hoping to get it into a better temper by a compliment. âIâve been in many gardens before, but none of the flowers could talk.â
âPut your hand down, and feel the ground,â said the Tiger-lily. âThen youâll know why.â
Alice did so. âItâs very hard,â she said, âbut I donât see what that has to do with it.â
âIn most gardens,â the Tiger-lily said, âthey make the beds too softâso that the flowers are always asleep.â
This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it. âI never thought of that before!â she said.
âItâs my opinion that you never think at all,â the Rose said in a rather severe tone.
âI never saw anybody that looked stupider,â a Violet said, so suddenly, that Alice quite jumped; for it hadnât spoken before.
âHold your tongue!â cried the Tiger-lily. âAs if you ever saw anybody! You keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there, till you know no more whatâs going on in the world, than if you were a bud!â
âAre there any more people in the garden besides me?â Alice said, not choosing to notice the Roseâs last remark.
âThereâs one other flower in the garden that can move about like you,â said the Rose. âI wonder how you do itââ (âYouâre always wondering,â said the Tiger-lily), âbut sheâs more bushy than you are.â
âIs she like me?â Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her mind, âThereâs another little girl in the garden, somewhere!â
âWell, she has the same awkward shape as you,â the Rose said, âbut sheâs redderâand her petals are shorter, I think.â
âHer petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,â the Tiger-lily interrupted: ânot tumbled about anyhow, like yours.â
âBut thatâs not your fault,â the Rose added kindly: âyouâre beginning to fade, you knowâand then one canât help oneâs petals getting a little untidy.â
Alice didnât like this idea at all: so, to change the subject, she asked âDoes she ever come out here?â
âI daresay youâll see her soon,â said the Rose. âSheâs one of the thorny kind.â
âWhere does she wear the thorns?â Alice asked with some curiosity.
âWhy all round her head, of course,â the Rose replied. âI was wondering you hadnât got some too. I thought it was the regular rule.â
âSheâs coming!â cried the Larkspur. âI hear her footstep, thump, thump, thump, along the gravel-walk!â
Alice looked round eagerly, and found that it was the Red Queen. âSheâs grown a good deal!â was her first remark. She had indeed: when Alice first found her in the ashes, she had been only three inches highâand here she was, half a head taller than Alice herself!
âItâs the fresh air that does it,â said the Rose: âwonderfully fine air it is, out here.â
âI think Iâll go and meet her,â said Alice, for, though the flowers were interesting enough, she felt that it would be far grander to have a talk with a real Queen.
âYou canât possibly do that,â said the Rose: âI should advise you to walk the other way.â
This sounded nonsense to Alice, so she said nothing, but set off at once towards the Red Queen. To her surprise, she lost sight of her in a moment, and found 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 the plan, this time, of walking in the opposite direction.
It succeeded beautifully. She had not been walking a minute before she found herself face to face with the Red Queen, and full in sight of the hill she had been so long aiming at.

âWhere do you come from?â said the Red Queen. âAnd where are you going? Look up, speak nicely, and donât twiddle your fingers all the time.â
Alice attended to all these directions, and explained, as well as she could, that she had lost her way.
âI donât know what you mean by your way,â said the Queen: âall the ways about here belong to meâbut why did you come out here at all?â she added in a kinder tone. âCurtsey while youâre thinking what to say, it saves time.â
Alice wondered a little at this, but she was too much in awe of the Queen to disbelieve it. âIâll try it when I go home,â she thought to herself, âthe next time Iâm a little late for dinner.â
âItâs time for you to answer now,â the Queen said, looking at her watch: âopen your mouth a little wider when you speak, and always say âyour Majesty.ââ
âI only wanted to see what the garden was like, your Majestyââ
âThatâs right,â said the Queen, patting her on the head, which Alice didnât like at all, âthough, when you say âgarden,ââIâve seen gardens, compared with which this would be a wilderness.â
Alice didnât dare to argue the point, but went on: ââand I thought Iâd try and find my way to the top of that hillââ
âWhen you say âhill,ââ the Queen interrupted, âI could show you hills, in comparison with which youâd call that a valley.â
âNo, I shouldnât,â said Alice, surprised into contradicting her at last: âa hill canât be a valley, you know. That would be nonsenseââ
The Red Queen shook her head, âYou may call it ânonsenseâ if you like,â she said, âbut Iâve heard nonsense, compared with which that would be as sensible as a dictionary!â
Alice curtseyed again, as she was afraid from the Queenâs tone that she was a little offended: and they walked on in silence till they got to the top of the little hill.
For some minutes Alice stood without speaking, looking out in all directions over the countryâand a most curious country it was. There were a number of tiny little brooks running straight across it from side to side, and the ground between was divided up into squares by a number of little green hedges, that reached from brook to brook.

âI declare itâs marked out just like a large chessboard!â Alice said at last. âThere ought to be some men moving about somewhereâand so there are!â She added in a tone of delight, and her heart began to beat quick with excitement as she went on. âItâs a great huge game of chess thatâs being playedâall over the worldâif this is the world at all, you know. Oh, what fun it is! How I wish I was one of them! I wouldnât mind being a Pawn, if only I might joinâthough of course I should like to be a Queen, best.â
She glanced rather shyly at the real Queen as she said this, but her companion only smiled pleasantly, and said, âThatâs easily managed. You can be the White Queenâs Pawn, if you like, as Lilyâs too young to play; and youâre in the Second Square to begin with: when you get to the Eighth Square youâll be a Queenââ Just at this moment, somehow or other, they began to run.
Alice never could quite make out, in thinking it over afterwards, how it was that they began: all she remembers is, that they were running hand in hand, and the Queen went so fast that it was all she could do to keep up with her: and still the Queen kept crying âFaster! Faster!â but Alice felt she could not go faster, though she had not breath left to say so.
The most curious part of the thing was, that the trees and the other things round them never changed their places at all: however fast they went, they never seemed to pass anything. âI wonder if all the things move along with us?â thought poor puzzled Alice. And the Queen seemed to guess her thoughts, for she cried, âFaster! Donât try to talk!â
Not that Alice had any idea of doing that. She felt as if she would never be able to talk again, she was getting so much out of breath: and still the Queen cried âFaster! Faster!â and dragged her along. âAre we nearly there?â Alice managed to pant out at last.
âNearly there!â the Queen repeated. âWhy, we passed it ten minutes ago! Faster!â And they ran on for a time in silence, with the wind whistling in Aliceâs ears, and almost blowing her hair off her head, she fancied.
âNow! Now!â cried the Queen. âFaster! Faster!â And they went so fast that at last they seemed to skim through the air, hardly touching the ground with their feet, 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, âYou may rest a little now.â
Alice looked round her in great surprise. âWhy, I do believe weâve been under this tree the whole time! Everythingâs just as it was!â
âOf course it is,â said the Queen, âwhat would you have it?â
âWell, in our country,â said Alice, still panting a little, âyouâd generally get to somewhere elseâif you ran very fast for a long time, as weâve been doing.â
âA slow sort of country!â said the Queen. âNow, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!â
âIâd rather not try, please!â said Alice. âIâm quite content to stay hereâonly I am so hot and thirsty!â
âI know what youâd like!â the Queen said good-naturedly, taking a little box out of her pocket. âHave a biscuit?â
Alice thought it would not be civil to say âNo,â though it wasnât at all what she wanted. So she took it, and ate it as well as she could: and it was very dry; and she thought she had never been so nearly choked in all her life.
âWhile youâre refreshing yourself,â said the Queen, âIâll just take the measurements.â And she took a ribbon out of her pocket, marked in inches, and began measuring the ground, and sticking little pegs in here and there.
âAt the end of two yards,â she said, putting in a peg to mark the distance, âI shall give you your directionsâhave another biscuit?â
âNo, thank you,â said Alice: âoneâs quite enough!â
âThirst quenched, I hope?â said the Queen.
Alice did not know what to say to this, but luckily the Queen did not wait for an answer, but went on. âAt the end of three yards I shall repeat themâfor fear of your forgetting them. At the end of four, I shall say good-bye. And at the end of five, I shall go!â
She had got all the pegs put in by this time, and Alice looked on with great interest as she returned to the tree, and then began slowly walking down the row.
At the two-yard peg she faced round, and said, âA pawn goes two squares in its first move, you know. So youâll go very quickly through the Third Squareâby railway, I should thinkâand youâll find yourself in the Fourth Square in no time. Well, that square belongs to Tweedledum and Tweedledeeâthe Fifth is mostly waterâthe Sixth belongs to Humpty DumptyâBut you make no remark?â
âIâI didnât know I had to make oneâjust then,â Alice faltered out.
âYou should have said, âItâs extremely kind of you to tell me all thisââhowever, weâll suppose it saidâthe Seventh Square is all forestâhowever, one of the Knights will show you the wayâand in the Eighth Square we shall be Queens together, and itâs all feasting and fun!â Alice got up and curtseyed, and sat down again.
At the next peg the Queen turned again, and this time she said, âSpeak in French when you canât think of the English for a thingâturn out your toes as you walkâand remember who you are!â She did not wait for Alice to curtsey this time, but walked on quickly to the next peg, where she turned for a moment to say âgood-bye,â and then hurried on to the last.
How it happened, Alice never knew, but exactly as she came to the last peg, she was gone. Whether she vanished into the air, or whether she ran quickly into the wood (âand she can run very fast!â thought Alice), there was no way of 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 3: Looking-Glass Insects
Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the country she was going to travel through. âItâs something very like learning geography,â thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes of being able to see a little further. âPrincipal riversâthere are none. Principal mountainsâIâm on the only one, but I donât think itâs got any name. Principal townsâwhy, what are those creatures, making honey down there? They canât be beesânobody ever saw bees a mile off, you knowââ and for some time she stood silent, watching one of them that was bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them, âjust as if it was a regular bee,â thought Alice.
However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an elephantâas Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath away at first. âAnd what enormous flowers they must be!â was her next idea. âSomething like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put to themâand what quantities of honey they must make! I think Iâll go down andâno, I wonât just yet,â 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. âItâll never do to go down among them without a good long branch to brush them awayâand what fun itâll be when they ask me how I like my walk. I shall sayââOh, I like it well enoughâââ (here came the favourite little toss of the head), ââonly it was so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!ââ

âI think Iâll go down the other way,â she said after a pause: âand perhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get into the Third Square!â
So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of the six little brooks.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
âTickets, please!â said the Guard, putting his head in at the window. In a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the same size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.
âNow then! Show your ticket, child!â the Guard went on, looking angrily at Alice. And a great many voices all said together (âlike the chorus of a song,â thought Alice), âDonât keep him waiting, child! Why, his time is worth a thousand pounds a minute!â
âIâm afraid I havenât got one,â Alice said in a frightened tone: âthere wasnât a ticket-office where I came from.â And again the chorus of voices went on. âThere wasnât room for one where she came from. The land there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!â
âDonât make excuses,â said the Guard: âyou should have bought one from the engine-driver.â And once more the chorus of voices went on with âThe man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a thousand pounds a puff!â
Alice thought to herself, âThen thereâs no use in speaking.â The voices didnât join in this time, as she hadnât spoken, but to her great surprise, they all thought in chorus (I hope you understand what thinking in chorus meansâfor I must confess that I donât), âBetter say nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!â
âI shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!â thought Alice.
All this time the Guard was looking at her, first through a telescope, then through a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last he said, âYouâre travelling the wrong way,â and shut up the window and went away.
âSo young a child,â said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he was dressed in white paper), âought to know which way sheâs going, even if she doesnât know her own name!â
A Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his eyes and said in a loud voice, âShe ought to know her way to the ticket-office, even if she doesnât know her alphabet!â
There was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queer carriage-full of passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to be that they should all speak in turn, he went on with âSheâll have to go back from here as luggage!â
Alice couldnât see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse voice spoke next. âChange enginesââ it said, and was obliged to leave off.
âIt sounds like a horse,â Alice thought to herself. And an extremely small voice, close to her ear, said, âYou might make a joke on thatâsomething about âhorseâ and âhoarse,â you know.â
Then a very gentle voice in the distance said, âShe must be labelled âLass, with care,â you knowââ
And after that other voices went on (âWhat a number of people there are in the carriage!â thought Alice), saying, âShe must go by post, as sheâs got a head on herââ âShe must be sent as a message by the telegraphââ âShe must draw the train herself the rest of the wayââ and so on.
But the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered in her ear, âNever mind what they all say, my dear, but take a return-ticket every time the train stops.â
âIndeed I shanât!â Alice said rather impatiently. âI donât belong to this railway journey at allâI was in a wood just nowâand I wish I could get back there.â
âYou might make a joke on that,â said the little voice close to her ear: âsomething about âyou would if you could,â you know.â
âDonât tease so,â said Alice, looking about in vain to see where the voice came from; âif youâre so anxious to have a joke made, why donât you make one yourself?â
The little voice sighed deeply: it was very unhappy, evidently, and Alice would have said something pitying to comfort it, âIf it would only sigh like other people!â she thought. But this was such a wonderfully small sigh, that she wouldnât have heard it at all, if it hadnât come quite close to her ear. The consequence of this was that it tickled her ear very much, and quite took off her thoughts from the unhappiness of the poor little creature.
âI know you are a friend,â the little voice went on; âa dear friend, and an old friend. And you wonât hurt me, though I am an insect.â
âWhat kind of insect?â Alice inquired a little anxiously. What she really wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but she thought this wouldnât be quite a civil question to ask.
âWhat, then you donâtââ the little voice began, when it was drowned by a shrill scream 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, âItâs only a brook we have to jump over.â Everybody seemed satisfied with this, though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea of trains jumping at all. âHowever, itâll take us into the Fourth Square, thatâs some comfort!â she said to herself. In another moment she felt the carriage rise straight up into the air, and in her fright she caught at the thing nearest to her hand, which happened to be the Goatâs beard.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
But the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she found herself sitting quietly under a treeâwhile the Gnat (for that was the insect she had been talking to) was balancing itself on a twig just over her head, and fanning her with its wings.
It certainly was a very large Gnat: âabout the size of a chicken,â Alice thought. Still, she couldnât feel nervous with it, after they had been talking together so long.
ââthen you donât like all insects?â the Gnat went on, as quietly as if nothing had happened.
âI like them when they can talk,â Alice said. âNone of them ever talk, where I come from.â
âWhat sort of insects do you rejoice in, where you come from?â the Gnat inquired.
âI donât rejoice in insects at all,â Alice explained, âbecause Iâm rather afraid of themâat least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them.â
âOf course they answer to their names?â the Gnat remarked carelessly.
âI never knew them to do it.â
âWhatâs the use of their having names,â the Gnat said, âif they wonât answer to them?â
âNo use to them,â said Alice; âbut itâs useful to the people who name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?â
âI canât say,â the Gnat replied. âFurther on, in the wood down there, theyâve got no namesâhowever, go on with your list of insects: youâre wasting time.â
âWell, thereâs the Horse-fly,â Alice began, counting off the names on her fingers.
âAll right,â said the Gnat: âhalf way up that bush, youâll see a Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. Itâs made entirely of wood, and gets about by swinging itself from branch to branch.â
âWhat does it live on?â Alice asked, with great curiosity.
âSap and sawdust,â said the Gnat. âGo on with the list.â
Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright and sticky; and then she went on.
âAnd thereâs the Dragon-fly.â
âLook on the branch above your head,â said the Gnat, âand there youâll find a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.â
âAnd what does it live on?â
âFrumenty and mince pie,â the Gnat replied; âand it makes its nest in a Christmas box.â
âAnd then thereâs the Butterfly,â Alice went on, after she had taken a good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to herself, âI wonder if thatâs the reason insects are so fond of flying into candlesâbecause they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!â
âCrawling at your feet,â said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), âyou may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.â
âAnd what does it live on?â
âWeak tea with cream in it.â
A new difficulty came into Aliceâs head. âSupposing it couldnât find any?â she suggested.
âThen it would die, of course.â
âBut that must happen very often,â Alice remarked thoughtfully.
âIt always happens,â said the Gnat.
After this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat amused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last it settled again and remarked, âI suppose you donât want to lose your name?â
âNo, indeed,â Alice said, a little anxiously.
âAnd yet I donât know,â the Gnat went on in a careless tone: âonly think how convenient 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 âcome hereâ,â and there she would have to leave off, because there wouldnât be any name for her to call, and of course you wouldnât have to go, you know.â
âThat would never do, Iâm sure,â said Alice: âthe governess would never think of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldnât remember my name, sheâd call me âMiss!â as the servants do.â
âWell, if she said âMiss,â and didnât say anything more,â the Gnat remarked, âof course youâd miss your lessons. Thatâs a joke. I wish you had made it.â
âWhy do you wish I had made it?â Alice asked. âItâs a very bad one.â
But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling down its cheeks.
âYou shouldnât make jokes,â Alice said, âif it makes you so unhappy.â
Then came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the poor Gnat really seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when Alice looked up, there was nothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, as she was getting quite chilly with 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: it looked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a little timid about going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up her mind to go on: âfor I certainly wonât go back,â she thought to herself, and this was the only way to the Eighth Square.
âThis must be the wood,â she said thoughtfully to herself, âwhere things have no names. I wonder whatâll become of my name when I go in? I shouldnât like to lose it at allâbecause theyâd have to give me another, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then the fun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old name! Thatâs just like the advertisements, you know, when people lose dogsââanswers to the name of âDash:â had on a brass collarââjust fancy calling everything you met âAlice,â till one of them answered! Only they wouldnât answer at all, if they were wise.â
She was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it looked very cool and shady. âWell, at any rate itâs a great comfort,â she said as she stepped under the trees, âafter being so hot, to get into theâinto what?â she went on, rather surprised at not being able to think of the word. âI mean to get under theâunder theâunder this, you know!â putting her hand on the trunk of the tree. âWhat does it call itself, I wonder? I do believe itâs got no nameâwhy, to be sure it hasnât!â
She stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again. âThen it really has happened, after all! And now, who am I? I will remember, if I can! Iâm determined to do it!â But being determined didnât help much, and all she could say, after a great deal of puzzling, was, âL, I know it begins with L!â
Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large gentle eyes, but didnât seem at all frightened. âHere then! Here then!â Alice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.

âWhat do you call yourself?â the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had!
âI wish I knew!â thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, âNothing, just now.â
âThink again,â it said: âthat wonât do.â
Alice thought, but nothing came of it. âPlease, would you tell me what you call yourself?â she said timidly. âI think that might help a little.â
âIâll tell you, if youâll move a little further on,â the Fawn said. âI canât remember here.â
So they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Aliceâs arms. âIâm a Fawn!â it cried out in a voice of delight, âand, dear me! youâre a human child!â A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown 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 lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. âHowever, I know my name now.â she said, âthatâs some comfort. AliceâAliceâI wonât forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow, I wonder?â
It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one road through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it. âIâll settle it,â Alice said to herself, âwhen the road divides and they point different ways.â
But this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way, but wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts pointing the same way, one marked âTO TWEEDLEDUMâS HOUSEâ and the other âTO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.â
âI do believe,â said Alice at last, âthat they live in the same house! I wonder I never thought of that beforeâBut I canât stay there long. Iâll just call and say âhow dâyou do?â and ask them the way out of the wood. If I could only get to the Eighth Square before it gets dark!â So she wandered on, talking to herself as she went, till, on turning a sharp corner, she came upon two fat little men, so suddenly that she could not help starting back, but in another moment she recovered herself, feeling sure that they must be.
Chapter 4: Tweedledum And Tweedledee
They were standing under a tree, each with an arm round the otherâs neck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had âDUMâ embroidered on his collar, and the other âDEE.â âI suppose theyâve each got âTWEEDLEâ round at the back of the collar,â she said to herself.
They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was just looking round to see if the word âTWEEDLEâ was written at the back of each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked âDUM.â
âIf you think weâre wax-works,â he said, âyou ought to pay, you know. Wax-works werenât made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!â
âContrariwise,â added the one marked âDEE,â âif you think weâre alive, you ought to speak.â
âIâm sure Iâm very sorry,â was all Alice could say; for the words of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock, and she could hardly help saying them out loud:â
âTweedledum 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.â
âI know what youâre thinking about,â said Tweedledum: âbut it isnât so, nohow.â
âContrariwise,â continued Tweedledee, âif it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isnât, it ainât. Thatâs logic.â
âI was thinking,â Alice said very politely, âwhich is the best way out of this wood: itâs getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?â
But the little men only looked at each other and grinned.
They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice couldnât help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying âFirst Boy!â
âNohow!â Tweedledum cried out briskly, and shut his mouth up again with a snap.
âNext Boy!â said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite certain he would only shout out âContrariwise!â and so he did.
âYouâve been wrong!â cried Tweedledum. âThe first thing in a visit is to say âHow dâye do?â and shake hands!â And here the two brothers gave each other a hug, and then they held out the two hands that were free, to shake hands with her.
Alice did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of hurting the other oneâs feelings; so, as the best way out of the difficulty, she took hold 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 even surprised to hear music playing: it seemed to come from the tree under which they were dancing, and it was done (as well as she could make it out) by the branches rubbing one across the other, like fiddles and fiddle-sticks.

âBut it certainly was funny,â (Alice said afterwards, when she was telling her sister the history of all this,) âto find myself singing âHere we go round the mulberry bush.â I donât know when I began it, but somehow I felt as if Iâd been singing it a long long time!â
The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. âFour times round is enough for one dance,â Tweedledum panted out, and they left off dancing as suddenly as they had begun: the music stopped at the same moment.
Then they let go of Aliceâs hands, and stood looking at her for a minute: there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didnât know how to begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. âIt would never do to say âHow dâye do?â now,â she said to herself: âwe seem to have got beyond that, somehow!â
âI hope youâre not much tired?â she said at last.
âNohow. And thank you very much for asking,â said Tweedledum.
âSo much obliged!â added Tweedledee. âYou like poetry?â
âYe-es, pretty wellâsome poetry,â Alice said doubtfully. âWould you tell me which road leads out of the wood?â
âWhat shall I repeat to her?â said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Aliceâs question.
ââThe Walrus and the Carpenterâ is the longest,â Tweedledum replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug.
Tweedledee began instantly:
âThe sun was shiningââ
Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. âIf itâs very long,â she said, as politely as she could, âwould you please tell me first which roadââ

Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:
âThe sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and brightâ
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 doneâ
âItâs very rude of him,â she said,
âTo come and spoil the fun!â
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 headâ
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:
âIf this were only cleared away,â
They said, âit would be grand!â
âIf seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,â the Walrus said,
âThat they could get it clear?â
âI doubt it,â said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
âO Oysters, come and walk with us!â
The Walrus did beseech.
âA pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.â
The eldest Oyster looked at him.
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy headâ
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 neatâ
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadnât any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and moreâ
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.
âThe time has come,â the Walrus said,
âTo talk of many things:
Of shoesâand shipsâand sealing-waxâ
Of cabbagesâand kingsâ
And why the sea is boiling hotâ
And whether pigs have wings.â
âBut wait a bit,â the Oysters cried,
âBefore we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!â
âNo hurry!â said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
âA loaf of bread,â the Walrus said,
âIs what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeedâ
Now if youâre ready Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.â
âBut not on us!â the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue,
âAfter such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!â
âThe night is fine,â the Walrus said
âDo you admire the view?
âIt was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!â
The Carpenter said nothing but
âCut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deafâ
Iâve had to ask you twice!â
âIt seems a shame,â the Walrus said,
âTo play them such a trick,
After weâve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!â
The Carpenter said nothing but
âThe butterâs spread too thick!â
âI weep for you,â the Walrus said.
âI deeply sympathize.â
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
âO Oysters,â said the Carpenter.
âYouâve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?â
But answer came there noneâ
And that was scarcely odd, because
Theyâd eaten every one.â

âI like the Walrus best,â said Alice: âbecause you see he was a little sorry for the poor oysters.â
âHe ate more than the Carpenter, though,â said Tweedledee. âYou see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldnât count how many he took: contrariwise.â
âThat was mean!â Alice said indignantly. âThen I like the Carpenter bestâif he didnât eat so many as the Walrus.â
âBut he ate as many as he could get,â said Tweedledum.
This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, âWell! They were both very unpleasant charactersââ Here she checked herself in some alarm, at hearing something that sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in the wood near them, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast. âAre there any lions or tigers about here?â she asked timidly.
âItâs only the Red King snoring,â said Tweedledee.
âCome and look at him!â the brothers cried, and they each took one of Aliceâs hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.
âIsnât he a lovely sight?â said Tweedledum.
Alice couldnât say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap, and snoring loudââfit to snore his head off!â as Tweedledum remarked.
âIâm afraid heâll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,â said Alice, who was a very thoughtful little girl.
âHeâs dreaming now,â said Tweedledee: âand what do you think heâs dreaming about?â

Alice said âNobody can guess that.â
âWhy, about you!â Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly. âAnd if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose youâd be?â
âWhere I am now, of course,â said Alice.
âNot you!â Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. âYouâd be nowhere. Why, youâre only a sort of thing in his dream!â
âIf that there King was to wake,â added Tweedledum, âyouâd go outâbang!âjust like a candle!â
âI shouldnât!â Alice exclaimed indignantly. âBesides, if Iâm only a sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?â
âDittoâ said Tweedledum.
âDitto, dittoâ cried Tweedledee.
He shouted this so loud that Alice couldnât help saying, âHush! Youâll be waking him, Iâm afraid, if you make so much noise.â
âWell, it no use your talking about waking him,â said Tweedledum, âwhen youâre only one of the things in his dream. You know very well youâre not real.â
âI am real!â said Alice and began to cry.
âYou wonât make yourself a bit realler by crying,â Tweedledee remarked: âthereâs nothing to cry about.â
âIf I wasnât real,â Alice saidâhalf-laughing through her tears, it all seemed so ridiculousââI shouldnât be able to cry.â
âI hope you donât suppose those are real tears?â Tweedledum interrupted in a tone of great contempt.
âI know theyâre talking nonsense,â Alice thought to herself: âand itâs foolish to cry about it.â So she brushed away her tears, and went on as cheerfully as she could. âAt any rate Iâd better be getting out of the wood, for really itâs coming on very dark. Do you think itâs going to rain?â
Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and looked up into it. âNo, I donât think it is,â he said: âat leastânot under here. Nohow.â
âBut it may rain outside?â
âIt mayâif it chooses,â said Tweedledee: âweâve no objection. Contrariwise.â
âSelfish things!â thought Alice, and she was just going to say âGood-nightâ and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the umbrella and seized her by the wrist.
âDo you see that?â he said, in a voice choking with passion, and his eyes grew large and yellow all in a moment, as he pointed with a trembling finger at a small white thing lying under the tree.
âItâs only a rattle,â Alice said, after a careful examination of the little white thing. âNot a rattle-snake, you know,â she added hastily, thinking that he was frightened: âonly an old rattleâquite old and broken.â
âI knew it was!â cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and tear his hair. âItâs spoilt, of course!â Here he looked at Tweedledee, who immediately sat 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, âYou neednât be so angry about an old rattle.â
âBut it isnât old!â Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever. âItâs new, I tell youâI bought it yesterdayâmy nice new RATTLE!â and his voice rose to a perfect scream.
All this time Tweedledee was trying his best to fold up the umbrella, with himself in it: which was such an extraordinary thing to do, that it quite took off Aliceâs attention from the angry brother. But he couldnât quite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the umbrella, with only his head out: and there he lay, opening and shutting his mouth and his large eyesââlooking more like a fish than anything else,â Alice thought.
âOf course you agree to have a battle?â Tweedledum said in a calmer tone.
âI suppose so,â the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the umbrella: âonly she must help us to dress up, you know.â
So the two brothers went off hand-in-hand into the wood, and returned in a minute with their arms full of thingsâsuch as bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs, table-cloths, dish-covers and coal-scuttles. âI hope youâre a good hand at pinning and tying strings?â Tweedledum remarked. âEvery one of these things has got to go on, somehow or other.â
Alice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything in all her lifeâthe way those two bustled aboutâand the quantity of things they put onâand the trouble they gave her in tying strings and fastening buttonsââReally theyâll be more like bundles of old clothes than anything else, by the time theyâre ready!â she said to herself, as she arranged a bolster round the neck of Tweedledee, âto keep his head from being cut off,â as he said.
âYou know,â he added very gravely, âitâs one of the most serious things that can possibly happen to one in a battleâto get oneâs head cut off.â
Alice laughed aloud: but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear of hurting his feelings.
âDo I look very pale?â said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet tied on. (He called it a helmet, though it certainly looked much more like a saucepan.)

âWellâyesâa little,â Alice replied gently.
âIâm very brave generally,â he went on in a low voice: âonly to-day I happen to have a headache.â
âAnd Iâve got a toothache!â said Tweedledee, who had overheard the remark. âIâm far worse off than you!â
âThen youâd better not fight to-day,â said Alice, thinking it a good opportunity to make peace.
âWe must have a bit of a fight, but I donât care about going on long,â said Tweedledum. âWhatâs the time now?â
Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said âHalf-past four.â
âLetâs fight till six, and then have dinner,â said Tweedledum.
âVery well,â the other said, rather sadly: âand she can watch usâonly youâd better not come very close,â he added: âI generally hit everything I can seeâwhen I get really excited.â
âAnd I hit everything within reach,â cried Tweedledum, âwhether I can see it or not!â
Alice laughed. âYou must hit the trees pretty often, I should think,â she said.
Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile. âI donât suppose,â he said, âthereâll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by the time weâve finished!â
âAnd all about a rattle!â said Alice, still hoping to make them a little ashamed of fighting for such a trifle.
âI shouldnât have minded it so much,â said Tweedledum, âif it hadnât been a new one.â
âI wish the monstrous crow would come!â thought Alice.
âThereâs only one sword, you know,â Tweedledum said to his brother: âbut you can have the umbrellaâitâs quite as sharp. Only we must begin quick. Itâs getting as dark as it can.â
âAnd darker,â said Tweedledee.
It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a thunderstorm coming on. âWhat a thick black cloud that is!â she said. âAnd how fast it comes! Why, I do believe itâs got wings!â
âItâs the crow!â Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and the two brothers 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. âIt can never get at me here,â she thought: âitâs far too large to squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldnât flap its wings soâit makes quite a hurricane in the woodâhereâs somebodyâs shawl being blown away!â
Chapter 5: Wool and Water
She caught the shawl as she spoke, and looked about for the owner: in another moment the White Queen came running wildly through the wood, with both arms stretched out wide, as if she were flying, and Alice very civilly went to meet her with the shawl.
âIâm very glad I happened to be in the way,â Alice said, as she helped her to put on her shawl again.
The White Queen only looked at her in a helpless frightened sort of way, and kept repeating something in a whisper to herself that sounded like âbread-and-butter, bread-and-butter,â and Alice felt that if there was to be any conversation at all, she must manage it herself. So she began rather timidly: âAm I addressing the White Queen?â
âWell, yes, if you call that a-dressing,â The Queen said. âIt isnât my notion of the thing, at all.â
Alice thought it would never do to have an argument at the very beginning of their conversation, so she smiled and said, âIf your Majesty will only tell me the right way to begin, Iâll do it as well as I can.â
âBut I donât want it done at all!â groaned the poor Queen. âIâve been a-dressing myself for the last two hours.â
It would have been all the better, as it seemed to Alice, if she had got some one else to dress her, she was so dreadfully untidy. âEvery single thingâs crooked,â Alice thought to herself, âand sheâs all over pins!âmay I put your shawl straight for you?â she added aloud.
âI donât know whatâs the matter with it!â the Queen said, in a melancholy voice. âItâs out of temper, I think. Iâve pinned it here, and Iâve pinned it there, but thereâs no pleasing it!â
âIt canât go straight, you know, if you pin it all on one side,â Alice said, as she gently put it right for her; âand, dear me, what a state your hair is in!â
âThe brush has got entangled in it!â the Queen said with a sigh. âAnd I lost the comb yesterday.â
Alice carefully released the brush, and did her best to get the hair into order. âCome, you look rather better now!â she said, after altering most of the pins. âBut really you should have a ladyâs maid!â
âIâm sure Iâll take you with pleasure!â the Queen said. âTwopence a week, and jam every other day.â
Alice couldnât help laughing, as she said, âI donât want you to hire meâand I donât care for jam.â
âItâs very good jam,â said the Queen.
âWell, I donât want any to-day, at any rate.â
âYou couldnât have it if you did want it,â the Queen said. âThe rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterdayâbut never jam to-day.â
âIt must come sometimes to âjam to-day,ââ Alice objected.
âNo, it canât,â said the Queen. âItâs jam every other day: to-day isnât any other day, you know.â
âI donât understand you,â said Alice. âItâs dreadfully confusing!â
âThatâs the effect of living backwards,â the Queen said kindly: âit always makes one a little giddy at firstââ
âLiving backwards!â Alice repeated in great astonishment. âI never heard of such a thing!â
ââbut thereâs one great advantage in it, that oneâs memory works both ways.â
âIâm sure mine only works one way,â Alice remarked. âI canât remember things before they happen.â
âItâs a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,â the Queen remarked.
âWhat sort of things do you remember best?â Alice ventured to ask.
âOh, things that happened the week after next,â the Queen replied in a careless tone. âFor instance, now,â she went on, sticking a large piece of plaster on her finger as she spoke, âthereâs the Kingâs Messenger. Heâs in prison now, being punished: and the trial doesnât even begin till next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of all.â
âSuppose he never commits the crime?â said Alice.
âThat would be all the better, wouldnât it?â the Queen said, as she bound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.
Alice felt there was no denying that. âOf course it would be all the better,â she said: âbut it wouldnât be all the better his being punished.â
âYouâre wrong there, at any rate,â said the Queen: âwere you ever punished?â
âOnly for faults,â said Alice.
âAnd you were all the better for it, I know!â the Queen said triumphantly.
âYes, but then I had done the things I was punished for,â said Alice: âthat makes all the difference.â
âBut if you hadnât done them,â the Queen said, âthat would have been better still; better, and better, and better!â Her voice went higher with each âbetter,â till it got quite to a squeak at last.
Alice was just beginning to say âThereâs a mistake somewhereâ,â when the Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence unfinished. âOh, oh, oh!â shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if she wanted to shake it off. âMy fingerâs bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!â
Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.
âWhat is the matter?â she said, as soon as there was a chance of making herself heard. âHave you pricked your finger?â
âI havenât pricked it yet,â the Queen said, âbut I soon shallâoh, oh, oh!â
âWhen do you expect to do it?â Alice asked, feeling very much inclined to laugh.
âWhen I fasten my shawl again,â the poor Queen groaned out: âthe brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!â As she said the words the brooch flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it again.
âTake care!â cried Alice. âYouâre holding it all crooked!â And she caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the Queen had pricked her finger.
âThat accounts for the bleeding, you see,â she said to Alice with a smile. âNow you understand the way things happen here.â
âBut why donât you scream now?â Alice asked, holding her hands ready to put over her ears again.
âWhy, Iâve done all the screaming already,â said the Queen. âWhat would be the good of having it all over again?â
By this time it was getting light. âThe crow must have flown away, I think,â said Alice: âIâm so glad itâs gone. I thought it was the night coming on.â
âI wish I could manage to be glad!â the Queen said. âOnly I never can remember the rule. You must be very happy, living in this wood, and being glad whenever you like!â
âOnly it is so very lonely here!â Alice said in a melancholy voice; and at the thought of her loneliness two large tears came rolling down her cheeks.
âOh, donât go on like that!â cried the poor Queen, wringing her hands in despair. âConsider what a great girl you are. Consider what a long way youâve come to-day. Consider what oâclock it is. Consider anything, only donât cry!â
Alice could not help laughing at this, even in the midst of her tears. âCan you keep from crying by considering things?â she asked.
âThatâs the way itâs done,â the Queen said with great decision: ânobody can do two things at once, you know. Letâs consider your age to begin withâhow old are you?â
âIâm seven and a half exactly.â
âYou neednât say âexactually,ââ the Queen remarked: âI can believe it without that. Now Iâll give you something to believe. Iâm just one hundred and one, five months and a day.â
âI canât believe that!â said Alice.
âCanât you?â the Queen said in a pitying tone. âTry again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.â
Alice laughed. âThereâs no use trying,â she said: âone canât believe impossible things.â
âI daresay you havenât had much practice,â said the Queen. âWhen I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes Iâve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. There goes the shawl again!â
The brooch had come undone as she spoke, and a sudden gust of wind blew the Queenâs shawl across a little brook. The Queen spread out her arms again, and went flying after it, and this time she succeeded in catching it for herself. âIâve got it!â she cried in a triumphant tone. âNow you shall see me pin it on again, all by myself!â
âThen I hope your finger is better now?â Alice said very politely, as she crossed the little brook after the Queen.
* * * * * * *
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âOh, much better!â cried the Queen, her voice rising to a squeak as she went on. âMuch be-etter! Be-etter! Be-e-e-etter! Be-e-ehh!â The last word ended in a long bleat, so like a sheep that Alice quite started.

She looked at the Queen, who seemed to have suddenly wrapped herself up in wool. Alice rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She couldnât make out what had happened at all. Was she in a shop? And was that reallyâwas it really a sheep that was sitting on the other side of the counter? Rub as she could, 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 at her through a great pair of spectacles.
âWhat is it you want to buy?â the Sheep said at last, looking up for a moment from her knitting.
âI donât quite know yet,â Alice said, very gently. âI should like to look all round me first, if I might.â
âYou may look in front of you, and on both sides, if you like,â said the Sheep: âbut you canât look all round youâunless youâve got eyes at the back of your head.â
But these, as it happened, Alice had not got: so she contented herself with turning round, looking at the shelves as she came to them.

The shop seemed to be full of all manner of curious thingsâbut the oddest part of it all was, that whenever she looked hard at any shelf, to make out exactly what it had on it, that particular shelf was always quite empty: though the others round it were crowded as full as they could hold.
âThings flow about so here!â she said at last in a plaintive tone, after she had spent a minute or so in vainly pursuing a large bright thing, that looked sometimes like a doll and sometimes like a work-box, and was always in the shelf next above the one she was looking at. âAnd this one is the most provoking of allâbut Iâll tell you whatââ she added, as a sudden thought struck her, âIâll follow it up to the very top shelf of all. Itâll puzzle it to go through the ceiling, I expect!â
But even this plan failed: the âthingâ went through the ceiling as quietly as possible, as if it were quite used to it.
âAre you a child or a teetotum?â the Sheep said, as she took up another pair of needles. âYouâll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning round like that.â She was now working with fourteen pairs at once, and Alice couldnât help looking at her in great astonishment.
âHow can she knit with so many?â the puzzled child thought to herself. âShe gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!â
âCan you row?â the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles as she spoke.
âYes, a littleâbut not on landâand not with needlesââ Alice was beginning to say, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her hands, and she found they were in a little boat, gliding along between banks: so there was nothing for it but to do her best.
âFeather!â cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.
This didnât 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.
âFeather! Feather!â the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. âYouâll be catching a crab directly.â
âA dear little crab!â thought Alice. âI should like that.â
âDidnât you hear me say âFeatherâ?â the Sheep cried angrily, taking up quite a bunch of needles.
âIndeed I did,â said Alice: âyouâve said it very oftenâand very loud. Please, where are the crabs?â
âIn the water, of course!â said the Sheep, sticking some of the needles into her hair, as her hands were full. âFeather, I say!â
âWhy do you say âfeatherâ so often?â Alice asked at last, rather vexed. âIâm not a bird!â
âYou are,â said the Sheep: âyouâre a little goose.â
This offended Alice a little, so there was no more conversation for a minute or two, while the boat glided gently on, sometimes among beds of weeds (which made the 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.
âOh, please! There are some scented rushes!â Alice cried in a sudden transport of delight. âThere really areâand such beauties!â
âYou neednât say âpleaseâ to me about âem,â the Sheep said, without looking up from her knitting: âI didnât put âem there, and Iâm not going to take âem away.â
âNo, but I meantâplease, may we wait and pick some?â Alice pleaded. âIf you donât mind stopping the boat for a minute.â
âHow am I to stop it?â said the Sheep. âIf you leave off rowing, itâll stop of itself.â
So the boat was left to drift down the stream as it would, till it glided gently in among the waving rushes. And then the little sleeves were carefully rolled up, and the little arms were plunged in elbow-deep to get the rushes a good long way down before breaking them offâand for a while Alice forgot all about the Sheep and the knitting, as she bent over the side of the boat, with just the ends of her tangled hair dipping into the waterâwhile with bright eager eyes she caught at one bunch after another of the darling scented rushes.
âI only hope the boat wonât tipple over!â she said to herself. âOh, what a lovely one! Only I couldnât quite reach it.â And it certainly did seem a little provoking (âalmost as if it happened on purpose,â 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 couldnât reach.
âThe prettiest are always further!â she said at last, with a sigh at the obstinacy of the rushes in growing so far off, as, with flushed cheeks and dripping hair and hands, she scrambled back into her place, and began to arrange her new-found treasures.
What mattered it to her just then that the rushes had begun to fade, and to lose all their scent and beauty, from the very moment that she picked them? Even real scented rushes, you know, last only a very little whileâand these, being dream-rushes, melted away almost like snow, as they lay in heaps at her feetâbut Alice hardly noticed this, there were so many other curious things to think about.
They hadnât gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars got fast in the water and wouldnât come out again (so Alice explained it afterwards), and the consequence was that the handle of it caught her under the chin, and, in spite of a series of little shrieks of âOh, oh, oh!â from poor Alice, it swept her straight off the seat, and down among the heap of rushes.
However, she wasnât hurt, and was soon up again: the Sheep went on with her knitting all the while, just as if nothing had happened. âThat was a nice crab you caught!â she remarked, as Alice got back into her place, very much relieved to find herself still in the boat.
âWas it? I didnât see it,â Said Alice, peeping cautiously over the side of the boat into the dark water. âI wish it hadnât let goâI should so like to see a little crab to take home with me!â But the Sheep only laughed scornfully, and went on with her knitting.
âAre there many crabs here?â said Alice.
âCrabs, and all sorts of things,â said the Sheep: âplenty of choice, only make up your mind. Now, what do you want to buy?â
âTo buy!â Alice echoed in a tone that was half astonished and half frightenedâfor the oars, and the boat, and the river, had vanished all in a moment, and she was back again in the little dark shop.
âI should like to buy an egg, please,â she said timidly. âHow do you sell them?â
âFivepence farthing for oneâTwopence for two,â the Sheep replied.
âThen two are cheaper than one?â Alice said in a surprised tone, taking out her purse.
âOnly you must eat them both, if you buy two,â said the Sheep.
âThen Iâll have one, please,â said Alice, as she put the money down on the counter. For she thought to herself, âThey mightnât be at all nice, you know.â
The Sheep took the money, and put it away in a box: then she said âI never put things into peopleâs handsâthat would never doâyou must get it for yourself.â And so saying, she went off to the other end of the shop, and set the egg upright on a shelf.
âI wonder why it wouldnât do?â thought Alice, as she groped her way among the tables and chairs, for the shop was very dark towards the end. âThe egg seems to get further away the more I walk towards it. Let me see, is this a chair? Why, itâs got branches, I declare! How very odd to find trees growing here! And actually hereâs a little brook! Well, this is the very queerest shop I ever saw!â
* * * * * * *
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So she went on, wondering more and more at every step, as everything turned into a tree the moment she came up to it, and she quite expected the egg to do the same.
Chapter 6: Humpty Dumpty
However, the egg only got larger and larger, and more and more human: when she had come within a few yards of it, she saw that it had eyes and a nose and mouth; and when she had come close to it, she saw clearly that it was HUMPTY DUMPTY himself. âIt canât be anybody else!â she said to herself. âIâm as certain of it, as if his name were written all over his face.â
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 a high wallâsuch a narrow one that Alice quite wondered how he could keep his balanceâand, as his eyes were steadily fixed in the opposite direction, and he didnât take the least notice of her, she thought he must be a stuffed figure after all.
âAnd how exactly like an egg he is!â she said aloud, standing with her hands ready to catch him, for she was every moment expecting him to fall.
âItâs very provoking,â Humpty Dumpty said after a long silence, looking away from Alice as he spoke, âto be called an eggâVery!â
âI said you looked like an egg, Sir,â Alice gently explained. âAnd some eggs are very pretty, you knowâ she added, hoping to turn her remark into a sort of a compliment.
âSome people,â said Humpty Dumpty, looking away from her as usual, âhave no more sense than a baby!â
Alice didnât know what to say to this: it wasnât at all like conversation, she thought, as he never said anything to her; in fact, his last remark was evidently addressed to a treeâso she stood and softly repeated to herself:â
âHumpty Dumpty sat on a wall:
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the Kingâs horses and all the Kingâs men
Couldnât put Humpty Dumpty in his place again.â
âThat last line is much too long for the poetry,â she added, almost out loud, forgetting that Humpty Dumpty would hear her.
âDonât stand there chattering to yourself like that,â Humpty Dumpty said, looking at her for the first time, âbut tell me your name and your business.â
âMy name is Alice, butââ
âItâs a stupid enough name!â Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently. âWhat does it mean?â
âMust a name mean something?â Alice asked doubtfully.
âOf course it must,â Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh: âmy name means the shape I amâand a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape, almost.â
âWhy do you sit out here all alone?â said Alice, not wishing to begin an argument.
âWhy, because thereâs nobody with me!â cried Humpty Dumpty. âDid you think I didnât know the answer to that? Ask another.â
âDonât you think youâd be safer down on the ground?â Alice went on, not with any idea of making another riddle, but simply in her good-natured anxiety for the queer creature. âThat wall is so very narrow!â
âWhat tremendously easy riddles you ask!â Humpty Dumpty growled out. âOf course I donât think so! Why, if ever I did fall offâwhich thereâs no chance ofâbut if I didââ Here he pursed his lips and looked so solemn and grand that Alice could hardly help laughing. âIf I did fall,â he went on, âThe King has promised meâwith his very own mouthâtoâtoââ
âTo send all his horses and all his men,â Alice interrupted, rather unwisely.
âNow I declare thatâs too bad!â Humpty Dumpty cried, breaking into a sudden passion. âYouâve been listening at doorsâand behind treesâand down chimneysâor you couldnât have known it!â
âI havenât, indeed!â Alice said very gently. âItâs in a book.â
âAh, well! They may write such things in a book,â Humpty Dumpty said in a calmer tone. âThatâs what you call a History of England, that is. Now, take a good look at me! Iâm one that has spoken to a King, I am: mayhap youâll never see such another: and to show you Iâm not proud, you may shake hands with me!â And he grinned almost from ear to ear, as he leant forwards (and as nearly as possible fell off the wall in doing so) and offered Alice his hand. She watched him a little anxiously as she took it. âIf he smiled much more, the ends of his mouth might meet behind,â she thought: âand then I donât know what would happen to his head! Iâm afraid it would come off!â
âYes, all his horses and all his men,â Humpty Dumpty went on. âTheyâd pick me up again in a minute, they would! However, this conversation is going on a little too fast: letâs go back to the last remark but one.â
âIâm afraid I canât quite remember it,â Alice said very politely.
âIn that case we start fresh,â said Humpty Dumpty, âand itâs my turn to choose a subjectââ (âHe talks about it just as if it was a game!â thought Alice.) âSo hereâs a question for you. How old did you say you were?â
Alice made a short calculation, and said âSeven years and six months.â
âWrong!â Humpty Dumpty exclaimed triumphantly. âYou never said a word like it!â
âI though you meant âHow old are you?ââ Alice explained.
âIf Iâd meant that, Iâd have said it,â said Humpty Dumpty.

Alice didnât want to begin another argument, so she said nothing.
âSeven years and six months!â Humpty Dumpty repeated thoughtfully. âAn uncomfortable sort of age. Now if youâd asked my advice, Iâd have said âLeave off at sevenââbut itâs too late now.â
âI never ask advice about growing,â Alice said indignantly.
âToo proud?â the other inquired.
Alice felt even more indignant at this suggestion. âI mean,â she said, âthat one canât help growing older.â
âOne canât, perhaps,â said Humpty Dumpty, âbut two can. With proper assistance, you might have left off at seven.â
âWhat a beautiful belt youâve got on!â Alice suddenly remarked.
(They had had quite enough of the subject of age, she thought: and if they really were to take turns in choosing subjects, it was her turn now.) âAt least,â she corrected herself on second thoughts, âa beautiful cravat, I should have saidâno, a belt, I meanâI beg your pardon!â she added in dismay, for Humpty Dumpty looked thoroughly offended, and she began to wish she hadnât chosen that subject. âIf I only knew,â she thought to herself, âwhich was neck and which was waist!â
Evidently Humpty Dumpty was very angry, though he said nothing for a minute or two. When he did speak again, it was in a deep growl.
âIt is aâmostâprovokingâthing,â he said at last, âwhen a person doesnât know a cravat from a belt!â
âI know itâs very ignorant of me,â Alice said, in so humble a tone that Humpty Dumpty relented.
âItâs a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say. Itâs a present from the White King and Queen. There now!â
âIs it really?â said Alice, quite pleased to find that she had chosen a good subject, after all.
âThey gave it me,â Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully, as he crossed one knee over the other and clasped his hands round it, âthey gave it meâfor an un-birthday present.â
âI beg your pardon?â Alice said with a puzzled air.
âIâm not offended,â said Humpty Dumpty.
âI mean, what is an un-birthday present?â
âA present given when it isnât your birthday, of course.â
Alice considered a little. âI like birthday presents best,â she said at last.
âYou donât know what youâre talking about!â cried Humpty Dumpty. âHow many days are there in a year?â
âThree hundred and sixty-five,â said Alice.
âAnd how many birthdays have you?â
âOne.â
âAnd if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five, what remains?â
âThree hundred and sixty-four, of course.â
Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful. âIâd rather see that done on paper,â he said.
Alice couldnât help smiling as she took out her memorandum-book, and worked the sum for him:
365
1
____
364
___
Humpty Dumpty took the book, and looked at it carefully. âThat seems to be done rightââ he began.
âYouâre holding it upside down!â Alice interrupted.
âTo be sure I was!â Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round for him. âI thought it looked a little queer. As I was saying, that seems to be done rightâthough I havenât time to look it over thoroughly just nowâand that shows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presentsââ
âCertainly,â said Alice.
âAnd only one for birthday presents, you know. Thereâs glory for you!â
âI donât know what you mean by âglory,ââ Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. âOf course you donâtâtill I tell you. I meant âthereâs a nice knock-down argument for you!ââ
âBut âgloryâ doesnât mean âa nice knock-down argument,ââ Alice objected.
âWhen I use a word,â Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, âit means just what I choose it to meanâneither more nor less.â
âThe question is,â said Alice, âwhether you can make words mean so many different things.â
âThe question is,â said Humpty Dumpty, âwhich is to be masterâthatâs all.â
Alice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty Dumpty began again. âTheyâve a temper, some of themâparticularly verbs, theyâre the proudestâadjectives you can do anything with, but not verbsâhowever, I can manage the whole lot of them! Impenetrability! Thatâs what I say!â
âWould you tell me, please,â said Alice âwhat that means?â
âNow you talk like a reasonable child,â said Humpty Dumpty, looking very much pleased. âI meant by âimpenetrabilityâ that weâve had enough of that subject, and it would be just as well if youâd mention what you mean to do next, as I suppose you donât mean to stop here all the rest of your life.â
âThatâs a great deal to make one word mean,â Alice said in a thoughtful tone.
âWhen I make a word do a lot of work like that,â said Humpty Dumpty, âI always pay it extra.â
âOh!â said Alice. She was too much puzzled to make any other remark.
âAh, you should see âem come round me of a Saturday night,â Humpty Dumpty went on, wagging his head gravely from side to side: âfor to get their wages, you know.â
(Alice didnât venture to ask what he paid them with; and so you see I canât tell you.)
âYou seem very clever at explaining words, Sir,â said Alice. âWould you kindly tell me the meaning of the poem called âJabberwockyâ?â
âLetâs hear it,â said Humpty Dumpty. âI can explain all the poems that were ever inventedâand a good many that havenât been invented just yet.â
This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse:
âTwas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
âThatâs enough to begin with,â Humpty Dumpty interrupted: âthere are plenty of hard words there. âBrilligâ means four oâclock in the afternoonâthe time when you begin broiling things for dinner.â
âThatâll do very well,â said Alice: âand âslithyâ?â
âWell, âslithyâ means âlithe and slimy.â âLitheâ is the same as âactive.â You see itâs like a portmanteauâthere are two meanings packed up into one word.â
âI see it now,â Alice remarked thoughtfully: âand what are âtovesâ?â
âWell, âtovesâ are something like badgersâtheyâre something like lizardsâand theyâre something like corkscrews.â
âThey must be very curious looking creatures.â
âThey are that,â said Humpty Dumpty: âalso they make their nests under sun-dialsâalso they live on cheese.â
âAnd whatâs the âgyreâ and to âgimbleâ?â
âTo âgyreâ is to go round and round like a gyroscope. To âgimbleâ is to make holes like a gimlet.â
âAnd âthe wabeâ is the grass-plot round a sun-dial, I suppose?â said Alice, surprised at her own ingenuity.
âOf course it is. Itâs called âwabe,â you know, because it goes a long way before it, and a long way behind itââ
âAnd a long way beyond it on each side,â Alice added.
âExactly so. Well, then, âmimsyâ is âflimsy and miserableâ (thereâs another portmanteau for you). And a âborogoveâ is a thin shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all roundâsomething like a live mop.â
âAnd then âmome rathsâ?â said Alice. âIâm afraid Iâm giving you a great deal of trouble.â
âWell, a ârathâ is a sort of green pig: but âmomeâ Iâm not certain about. I think itâs short for âfrom homeââmeaning that theyâd lost their way, you know.â
âAnd what does âoutgrabeâ mean?â
âWell, âoutgrabingâ is something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle: however, youâll hear it done, maybeâdown in the wood yonderâand when youâve once heard it youâll be quite content. Whoâs been repeating all that hard stuff to you?â
âI read it in a book,â said Alice. âBut I had some poetry repeated to me, much easier than that, byâTweedledee, I think it was.â
âAs to poetry, you know,â said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his great hands, âI can repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes to thatââ
âOh, it neednât come to that!â Alice hastily said, hoping to keep him from beginning.
âThe piece Iâm going to repeat,â he went on without noticing her remark, âwas written entirely for your amusement.â
Alice felt that in that case she really ought to listen to it, so she sat down, and said âThank youâ rather sadly.
âIn winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delightâ
only I donât sing it,â he added, as an explanation.
âI see you donât,â said Alice.
âIf you can see whether Iâm singing or not, youâve sharper eyes than most.â Humpty Dumpty remarked severely. Alice was silent.
âIn spring, when woods are getting green,
Iâll try and tell you what I mean.â
âThank you very much,â said Alice.
âIn summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps youâll understand the song:
In autumn, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.â
âI will, if I can remember it so long,â said Alice.
âYou neednât go on making remarks like that,â Humpty Dumpty said: âtheyâre not sensible, and they put me out.â
âI sent a message to the fish:
I told them âThis is what I wish.â
The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.
The little fishesâ answer was
âWe cannot do it, Sir, becauseâââ
âIâm afraid I donât quite understand,â said Alice.

âIt gets easier further on,â Humpty Dumpty replied.
âI sent to them again to say
âIt will be better to obey.â
The fishes answered with a grin,
âWhy, what a temper you are in!â
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,
âThe little fishes are in bed.â
I said to him, I said it plain,
âThen you must wake them up again.â
I said it very loud and clear;
I went and shouted in his ear.â
Humpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this verse, and Alice thought with a shudder, âI wouldnât have been the messenger for anything!â
âBut he was very stiff and proud;
He said âYou neednât shout so loud!â
And he was very proud and stiff;
He said âIâd go and wake them, ifââ
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, butââ
There was a long pause.
âIs that all?â Alice timidly asked.
âThatâs all,â said Humpty Dumpty. âGood-bye.â
This was rather sudden, Alice thought: but, after such a very strong hint that she ought to be going, she felt that it would hardly be civil to stay. So she got up, and held out her hand. âGood-bye, till we meet again!â she said as cheerfully as she could.
âI shouldnât know you again if we did meet,â Humpty Dumpty replied in a discontented tone, giving her one of his fingers to shake; âyouâre so exactly like other people.â
âThe face is what one goes by, generally,â Alice remarked in a thoughtful tone.
âThatâs just what I complain of,â said Humpty Dumpty. âYour face is the same as everybody hasâthe two eyes, soââ (marking their places in the air with this thumb) ânose in the middle, mouth under. Itâs always the same. Now if you had the two eyes on the same side of the nose, for instanceâor the mouth at the topâthat would be some help.â
âIt wouldnât look nice,â Alice objected. But Humpty Dumpty only shut his eyes and said âWait till youâve tried.â
Alice waited a minute to see if he would speak again, but as he never opened his eyes or took any further notice of her, she said âGood-bye!â once more, and, getting no answer to this, she quietly walked away: but she couldnât help saying to herself as she went, âOf all the unsatisfactoryââ (she repeated this aloud, as it was a great comfort to have such a long word to say) âof all the unsatisfactory people I ever metââ She never finished the sentence, for at this moment a heavy crash shook the forest from end to end.
Chapter 7: The Lion and the Unicorn
The next moment soldiers came running through the wood, at first in twos and threes, then ten or twenty together, and at last in such crowds that they seemed to fill the whole forest. Alice got behind a tree, for fear of being run over, and watched them go by.
She thought that in all her life she had never seen soldiers so uncertain on their feet: they were always tripping over something or other, and whenever one went down, several more always fell over him, so that the ground was soon covered with little heaps of men.
Then came the horses. Having four feet, these managed rather better than the foot-soldiers: but even they stumbled now and then; and it seemed to be a 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 the wood into an open place, where she found the White King seated on the ground, busily writing in his memorandum-book.

âIâve sent them all!â the King cried in a tone of delight, on seeing Alice. âDid you happen to meet any soldiers, my dear, as you came through the wood?â
âYes, I did,â said Alice: âseveral thousand, I should think.â
âFour thousand two hundred and seven, thatâs the exact number,â the King said, referring to his book. âI couldnât send all the horses, you know, because two of them are wanted in the game. And I havenât sent the two Messengers, either. Theyâre both gone to the town. Just look along the road, and tell me if you can see either of them.â
âI see nobody on the road,â said Alice.
âI only wish I had such eyes,â the King remarked in a fretful tone. âTo be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, itâs as much as I can do to see real people, by this light!â
All this was lost on Alice, who was still looking intently along the road, shading her eyes with one hand. âI see somebody now!â she exclaimed at last. âBut heâs coming very slowlyâand what curious attitudes he goes into!â (For the messenger kept skipping up and down, and wriggling like an eel, as he came along, with his great hands spread out like fans on each side.)
âNot at all,â said the King. âHeâs an Anglo-Saxon Messengerâand those are Anglo-Saxon attitudes. He only does them when heâs happy. His name is Haigha.â (He pronounced it so as to rhyme with âmayor.â)

âI love my love with an H,â Alice couldnât help beginning, âbecause he is Happy. I hate him with an H, because he is Hideous. I fed him withâwithâwith Ham-sandwiches and Hay. His name is Haigha, and he livesââ
âHe lives on the Hill,â the King remarked simply, without the least idea that he was joining in the game, while Alice was still hesitating for the name of a town beginning with H. âThe other Messengerâs called Hatta. I must have two, you knowâto come and go. One to come, and one to go.â
âI beg your pardon?â said Alice.
âIt isnât respectable to beg,â said the King.
âI only meant that I didnât understand,â said Alice. âWhy one to come and one to go?â
âDidnât I tell you?â the King repeated impatiently. âI must have twoâto fetch and carry. One to fetch, and one to carry.â
At this moment the Messenger arrived: he was far too much out of breath to say a word, and could only wave his hands about, and make the most fearful faces at the poor King.
âThis young lady loves you with an H,â the King said, introducing Alice in the hope of turning off the Messengerâs attention from himselfâbut it was no useâthe Anglo-Saxon attitudes only got more extraordinary every moment, while the great eyes rolled wildly from side to side.
âYou alarm me!â said the King. âI feel faintâGive me a ham sandwich!â

On which the Messenger, to Aliceâs great amusement, opened a bag that hung round his neck, and handed a sandwich to the King, who devoured it greedily.
âAnother sandwich!â said the King.
âThereâs nothing but hay left now,â the Messenger said, peeping into the bag.
âHay, then,â the King murmured in a faint whisper.
Alice was glad to see that it revived him a good deal. âThereâs nothing like eating hay when youâre faint,â he remarked to her, as he munched away.
âI should think throwing cold water over you would be better,â Alice suggested: âor some sal-volatile.â
âI didnât say there was nothing better,â the King replied. âI said there was nothing like it.â Which Alice did not venture to deny.
âWho did you pass on the road?â the King went on, holding out his hand to the Messenger for some more hay.
âNobody,â said the Messenger.
âQuite right,â said the King: âthis young lady saw him too. So of course Nobody walks slower than you.â
âI do my best,â the Messenger said in a sulky tone. âIâm sure nobody walks much faster than I do!â
âHe canât do that,â said the King, âor else heâd have been here first. However, now youâve got your breath, you may tell us whatâs happened in the town.â
âIâll whisper it,â said the Messenger, putting his hands to his mouth in the shape of a trumpet, and stooping so as to get close to the Kingâs ear. Alice was sorry for this, as she wanted to hear the news too. However, instead of whispering, he simply shouted at the top of his voice âTheyâre at it again!â
âDo you call that a whisper?â cried the poor King, jumping up and shaking himself. âIf you do such a thing again, Iâll have you buttered! It went through and through my head like an earthquake!â
âIt would have to be a very tiny earthquake!â thought Alice. âWho are at it again?â she ventured to ask.
âWhy the Lion and the Unicorn, of course,â said the King.
âFighting for the crown?â
âYes, to be sure,â said the King: âand the best of the joke is, that itâs my crown all the while! Letâs run and see them.â And they trotted off, Alice repeating to herself, as she ran, the words of the old song:â
âThe 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.â
âDoesâthe oneâthat winsâget the crown?â she asked, as well as she could, for the run was putting her quite out of breath.
âDear me, no!â said the King. âWhat an idea!â
âWould youâbe good enough,â Alice panted out, after running a little further, âto stop a minuteâjust to getâoneâs breath again?â
âIâm good enough,â the King said, âonly Iâm not strong enough. You see, a minute goes by so fearfully quick. You might as well try to stop a Bandersnatch!â
Alice had no more breath for talking, so they trotted on in silence, till they came in sight of a great crowd, in the middle of which the Lion and Unicorn were fighting. They were in such a cloud of dust, that at first Alice could not make out which was which: but she soon managed to distinguish the Unicorn by his horn.
They placed themselves close to where Hatta, the other messenger, was standing watching the fight, with a cup of tea in one hand and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other.
âHeâs only just out of prison, and he hadnât finished his tea when he was sent in,â Haigha whispered to Alice: âand they only give them oyster-shells in thereâso you see heâs very hungry and thirsty. How are you, dear child?â he went on, putting his arm affectionately round Hattaâs neck.
Hatta looked round and nodded, and went on with his bread and butter.
âWere you happy in prison, dear child?â said Haigha.
Hatta looked round once more, and this time a tear or two trickled down his cheek: but not a word would he say.
âSpeak, canât you!â Haigha cried impatiently. But Hatta only munched away, and drank some more tea.
âSpeak, wonât you!â cried the King. âHow are they getting on with the fight?â
Hatta made a desperate effort, and swallowed a large piece of bread-and-butter. âTheyâre getting on very well,â he said in a choking voice: âeach of them has been down about eighty-seven times.â
âThen I suppose theyâll soon bring the white bread and the brown?â Alice ventured to remark.
âItâs waiting for âem now,â said Hatta: âthis is a bit of it as Iâm eating.â
There was a pause in the fight just then, and the Lion and the Unicorn sat down, panting, while the King called out âTen minutes allowed for refreshments!â Haigha and Hatta set to work at once, carrying rough trays of white and brown bread. Alice took a piece to taste, but it was very dry.
âI donât think theyâll fight any more to-day,â the King said to Hatta: âgo and order the drums to begin.â And Hatta went bounding away like a grasshopper.
For a minute or two Alice stood silent, watching him. Suddenly she brightened up. âLook, look!â she cried, pointing eagerly. âThereâs the White Queen running across the country! She came flying out of the wood over yonderâHow fast those Queens can run!â
âThereâs some enemy after her, no doubt,â the King said, without even looking round. âThat woodâs full of them.â
âBut arenât you going to run and help her?â Alice asked, very much surprised at his taking it so quietly.
âNo use, no use!â said the King. âShe runs so fearfully quick. You might as well try to catch a Bandersnatch! But Iâll make a memorandum about her, if you likeâSheâs a dear good creature,â he repeated softly to himself, as he opened his memorandum-book. âDo you spell âcreatureâ with a double âeâ?â
At this moment the Unicorn sauntered by them, with his hands in his pockets. âI had the best of it this time?â he said to the King, just glancing at him as he passed.
âA littleâa little,â the King replied, rather nervously. âYou shouldnât have run him through with your horn, you know.â
âIt didnât hurt him,â the Unicorn said carelessly, and he was going on, when his eye happened to fall upon Alice: he turned round rather instantly, and stood for some time looking at her with an air of the deepest disgust.
âWhatâisâthis?â he said at last.

âThis is a child!â Haigha replied eagerly, coming in front of Alice to introduce her, and spreading out both his hands towards her in an Anglo-Saxon attitude. âWe only found it to-day. Itâs as large as life, and twice as natural!â
âI always thought they were fabulous monsters!â said the Unicorn. âIs it alive?â
âIt can talk,â said Haigha, solemnly.
The Unicorn looked dreamily at Alice, and said âTalk, child.â
Alice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: âDo you know, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I never saw one alive before!â
âWell, now that we have seen each other,â said the Unicorn, âif youâll believe in me, Iâll believe in you. Is that a bargain?â
âYes, if you like,â said Alice.
âCome, fetch out the plum-cake, old man!â the Unicorn went on, turning from her to the King. âNone of your brown bread for me!â
âCertainlyâcertainly!â the King muttered, and beckoned to Haigha. âOpen the bag!â he whispered. âQuick! Not that oneâthatâs full of hay!â
Haigha took a large cake out of the bag, and gave it to Alice to hold, while he got out a dish and carving-knife. How they all came out of it Alice couldnât guess. It was just like a conjuring-trick, she thought.
The Lion had joined them while this was going on: he looked very tired and sleepy, and his eyes were half shut. âWhatâs this!â he said, blinking lazily at Alice, and speaking in a deep hollow tone that sounded like the tolling of a great bell.
âAh, what is it, now?â the Unicorn cried eagerly. âYouâll never guess! I couldnât.â
The Lion looked at Alice wearily. âAre you animalâvegetableâor mineral?â he said, yawning at every other word.
âItâs a fabulous monster!â the Unicorn cried out, before Alice could reply.
âThen hand round the plum-cake, Monster,â the Lion said, lying down and putting his chin on his paws. âAnd sit down, both of you,â (to the King and the Unicorn): âfair play with the cake, you know!â
The King was evidently very uncomfortable at having to sit down between the two great creatures; but there was no other place for him.
âWhat a fight we might have for the crown, now!â the Unicorn said, looking slyly up at the crown, which the poor King was nearly shaking off his head, he trembled so much.
âI should win easy,â said the Lion.
âIâm not so sure of that,â said the Unicorn.
âWhy, I beat you all round the town, you chicken!â the Lion replied angrily, half getting up as he spoke.
Here the King interrupted, to prevent the quarrel going on: he was very nervous, and his voice quite quivered. âAll round the town?â he said. âThatâs a good long way. Did you go by the old bridge, or the market-place? You get the best view by the old bridge.â
âIâm sure I donât know,â the Lion growled out as he lay down again. âThere was too much dust to see anything. What a time the Monster is, cutting up that cake!â
Alice had seated herself on the bank of a little brook, with the great dish on her knees, and was sawing away diligently with the knife. âItâs very provoking!â she said, in reply to the Lion (she was getting quite used to being called âthe Monsterâ). âIâve cut several slices already, but they always join on again!â
âYou donât know how to manage Looking-glass cakes,â the Unicorn remarked. âHand it round first, and cut it afterwards.â
This sounded nonsense, but Alice very obediently got up, and carried the dish round, and the cake divided itself into three pieces as she did so. âNow cut it up,â said the Lion, as she returned to her place with the empty dish.
âI say, this isnât fair!â cried the Unicorn, as Alice sat with the knife in her hand, very much puzzled how to begin. âThe Monster has given the Lion twice as much as me!â
âSheâs kept none for herself, anyhow,â said the Lion. âDo you like plum-cake, Monster?â
But before Alice could answer him, the drums began.
Where the noise came from, she couldnât make out: the air seemed full of it, and it rang through and through her head till she felt quite deafened. She started 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, with angry looks at being interrupted in their feast, before she dropped to her knees, and put her hands over her ears, vainly trying to shut out the dreadful uproar.
âIf that doesnât âdrum them out of town,ââ she thought to herself, ânothing ever will!â
Chapter 8: âItâs my own Inventionâ
After a while the noise seemed gradually to die away, till all was dead silence, and Alice lifted up her head in some alarm. There was no one to be seen, and her first thought was that she must have been dreaming about the Lion and the Unicorn and those queer Anglo-Saxon Messengers. However, there was the great dish still lying at her feet, on which she had tried to cut the plum-cake, âSo I wasnât dreaming, after all,â she said to herself, âunlessâunless weâre all part of the same dream. Only I do hope itâs my dream, and not the Red Kingâs! I donât like belonging to another personâs dream,â she went on in a rather complaining tone: âIâve a great mind to go and wake him, and see what happens!â
At this moment her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shouting of âAhoy! Ahoy! Check!â 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: âYouâre my prisoner!â the Knight cried, as he tumbled off his horse.

Startled as she was, Alice was more frightened for him than for herself at the moment, and watched him with some anxiety as he mounted again. As soon as he was comfortably in the saddle, he began once more âYouâre myââ but here another voice broke in âAhoy! Ahoy! Check!â and Alice looked round in some surprise for the new enemy.
This time it was a White Knight. He drew up at Aliceâs side, and tumbled off his horse just as the Red Knight had done: then he got on again, and the two Knights sat and looked at each other for some time without speaking. Alice looked from one to the other in some bewilderment.

âSheâs my prisoner, you know!â the Red Knight said at last.
âYes, but then I came and rescued her!â the White Knight replied.
âWell, we must fight for her, then,â said the Red Knight, as he took up his helmet (which hung from the saddle, and was something the shape of a horseâs head), and put it on.
âYou will observe the Rules of Battle, of course?â the White Knight remarked, putting on his helmet too.
âI always do,â said the Red Knight, and they began banging away at each other with such fury that Alice got behind a tree to be out of the way of the blows.
âI wonder, now, what the Rules of Battle are,â she said to herself, as she watched the fight, timidly peeping out from her hiding-place: âone Rule seems to be, that if one Knight hits the other, he knocks him off his horse, and if he misses, he tumbles off himselfâand another Rule seems to be that they hold their clubs with their arms, as if they were Punch and JudyâWhat a noise they make when they tumble! Just like a whole set of fire-irons falling into the fender! And how quiet the horses are! They let them get on and off them just as if they were tables!â
Another Rule of Battle, that Alice had not noticed, seemed to be that they always fell on their heads, and the battle ended with their both falling off in this way, side by side: when they got up again, they shook hands, and then the Red Knight mounted and galloped off.
âIt was a glorious victory, wasnât it?â said the White Knight, as he came up panting.
âI donât know,â Alice said doubtfully. âI donât want to be anybodyâs prisoner. I want to be a Queen.â
âSo you will, when youâve crossed the next brook,â said the White Knight. âIâll see you safe to the end of the woodâand then I must go back, you know. Thatâs the end of my move.â
âThank you very much,â said Alice. âMay I help you off with your helmet?â It was evidently more than he could manage by himself; however, she managed to shake him out of it at last.
âNow one can breathe more easily,â said the Knight, putting back his shaggy hair 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 a queer-shaped little deal box fastened across his shoulder, upside-down, and with the lid hanging open. Alice looked at it with great curiosity.
âI see youâre admiring my little box.â the Knight said in a friendly tone. âItâs my own inventionâto keep clothes and sandwiches in. You see I carry it upside-down, so that the rain canât get in.â
âBut the things can get out,â Alice gently remarked. âDo you know the lidâs open?â
âI didnât know it,â the Knight said, a shade of vexation passing over his face. âThen all the things must have fallen out! And the box is no use without them.â 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. âCan you guess why I did that?â he said to Alice.
Alice shook her head.
âIn hopes some bees may make a nest in itâthen I should get the honey.â
âBut youâve got a bee-hiveâor something like oneâfastened to the saddle,â said Alice.
âYes, itâs a very good bee-hive,â the Knight said in a discontented tone, âone of the best kind. But not a single bee has come near it yet. And the other thing is a mouse-trap. I suppose the mice keep the bees outâor the bees keep the mice out, I donât know which.â
âI was wondering what the mouse-trap was for,â said Alice. âIt isnât very likely there would be any mice on the horseâs back.â
âNot very likely, perhaps,â said the Knight: âbut if they do come, I donât choose to have them running all about.â
âYou see,â he went on after a pause, âitâs as well to be provided for everything. Thatâs the reason the horse has all those anklets round his feet.â
âBut what are they for?â Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.
âTo guard against the bites of sharks,â the Knight replied. âItâs an invention of my own. And now help me on. Iâll go with you to the end of the woodâWhatâs the dish for?â
âItâs meant for plum-cake,â said Alice.

âWeâd better take it with us,â the Knight said. âItâll come in handy if we find any plum-cake. Help me to get it into this bag.â
This took a very long time to manage, though Alice held the bag open very carefully, because the Knight was so very awkward in putting in the dish: the first two or three times that he tried he fell in himself instead. âItâs rather a tight fit, you see,â he said, as they got it in a last; âThere are so many candlesticks in the bag.â And he hung it to the saddle, which was already loaded with bunches of carrots, and fire-irons, and many other things.
âI hope youâve got your hair well fastened on?â he continued, as they set off.
âOnly in the usual way,â Alice said, smiling.
âThatâs hardly enough,â he said, anxiously. âYou see the wind is so very strong here. Itâs as strong as soup.â
âHave you invented a plan for keeping the hair from being blown off?â Alice enquired.
âNot yet,â said the Knight. âBut Iâve got a plan for keeping it from falling off.â
âI should like to hear it, very much.â
âFirst you take an upright stick,â said the Knight. âThen you make your hair creep up it, like a fruit-tree. Now the reason hair falls off is because it hangs downâthings never fall upwards, you know. Itâs a plan of my own invention. You may try it if you like.â
It didnât sound a comfortable plan, Alice thought, and for a few minutes she walked on in silence, puzzling over the idea, and every now and then stopping to help the poor Knight, who certainly was not a good rider.

Whenever the horse stopped (which it did very often), he fell off in front; and whenever it went on again (which it generally did rather suddenly), he fell off behind. Otherwise he kept on pretty well, except that he had a habit of now and then falling off sideways; and as he generally did this on the side on which Alice was walking, she soon found that it was the best plan not to walk quite close to the horse.
âIâm afraid youâve not had much practice in riding,â she ventured to say, as she was helping him up from his fifth tumble.
The Knight looked very much surprised, and a little offended at the remark. âWhat makes you say that?â he asked, as he scrambled back into the saddle, keeping hold of Aliceâs hair with one hand, to save himself from falling over on the other side.
âBecause people donât fall off quite so often, when theyâve had much practice.â
âIâve had plenty of practice,â the Knight said very gravely: âplenty of practice!â
Alice could think of nothing better to say than âIndeed?â but she said it as heartily as she could. They went on a little way in silence after this, the Knight with his eyes shut, muttering to himself, and Alice watching anxiously for the next tumble.
âThe great art of riding,â the Knight suddenly began in a loud voice, waving his right arm as he spoke, âis to keepââ Here the sentence ended as suddenly as it had begun, as the Knight fell heavily on the top of his head exactly in the path where Alice was walking. She was quite frightened this time, and said in an anxious tone, as she picked him up, âI hope no bones are broken?â
âNone to speak of,â the Knight said, as if he didnât mind breaking two or three of them. âThe great art of riding, as I was saying, isâto keep your balance properly. Like this, you knowââ
He let go the bridle, and stretched out both his arms to show Alice what he meant, and this time he fell flat on his back, right under the horseâs feet.
âPlenty of practice!â he went on repeating, all the time that Alice was getting him on his feet again. âPlenty of practice!â
âItâs too ridiculous!â cried Alice, losing all her patience this time. âYou ought to have a wooden horse on wheels, that you ought!â
âDoes that kind go smoothly?â the Knight asked in a tone of great interest, clasping his arms round the horseâs neck as he spoke, just in time to save himself from tumbling off again.
âMuch more smoothly than a live horse,â Alice said, with a little scream of laughter, in spite of all she could do to prevent it.
âIâll get one,â the Knight said thoughtfully to himself. âOne or twoâseveral.â
There was a short silence after this, and then the Knight went on again. âIâm a great hand at inventing things. Now, I daresay you noticed, that last time you picked me up, that I was looking rather thoughtful?â
âYou were a little grave,â said Alice.
âWell, just then I was inventing a new way of getting over a gateâwould you like to hear it?â
âVery much indeed,â Alice said politely.
âIâll tell you how I came to think of it,â said the Knight. âYou see, I said to myself, âThe only difficulty is with the feet: the head is high enough already.â Now, first I put my head on the top of the gateâthen I stand on my headâthen the feet are high enough, you seeâthen Iâm over, you see.â
âYes, I suppose youâd be over when that was done,â Alice said thoughtfully: âbut donât you think it would be rather hard?â
âI havenât tried it yet,â the Knight said, gravely: âso I canât tell for certainâbut Iâm afraid it would be a little hard.â
He looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the subject hastily. âWhat a curious helmet youâve got!â she said cheerfully. âIs that your invention too?â
The Knight looked down proudly at his helmet, which hung from the saddle. âYes,â he said, âbut Iâve invented a better one than thatâlike a sugar loaf. When I used to wear it, if I fell off the horse, it always touched the ground directly. So I had a very little way to fall, you seeâBut there was the danger of falling into it, to be sure. That happened to me onceâand the worst of it was, before I could get out again, the other White Knight came and put it on. He thought it was his own helmet.â
The knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did not dare to laugh. âIâm afraid you must have hurt him,â she said in a trembling voice, âbeing on the top of his head.â
âI had to kick him, of course,â the Knight said, very seriously. âAnd then he took the helmet off againâbut it took hours and hours to get me out. I was as fast asâas lightning, you know.â
âBut thatâs a different kind of fastness,â Alice objected.
The Knight shook his head. âIt was all kinds of fastness with me, I can assure you!â he said. He raised his hands in some excitement as he said this, and instantly 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 by the fall, as for some time he had kept on very well, and she was afraid that he really was hurt this time. However, though she could see nothing but the soles of his feet, she was much relieved to hear that he was talking on in his usual tone. âAll kinds of fastness,â he repeated: âbut it was careless of him to put another manâs helmet onâwith the man in it, too.â
âHow can you go on talking so quietly, head downwards?â Alice asked, as she dragged him out by the feet, and laid him in a heap on the bank.
The Knight looked surprised at the question. âWhat does it matter where my body happens to be?â he said. âMy mind goes on working all the same. In fact, the more head downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new things.â
âNow the cleverest thing of the sort that I ever did,â he went on after a pause, âwas inventing a new pudding during the meat-course.â
âIn time to have it cooked for the next course?â said Alice. âWell, not the next course,â the Knight said in a slow thoughtful tone: âno, certainly not the next course.â
âThen it would have to be the next day. I suppose you wouldnât have two pudding-courses in one dinner?â
âWell, not the next day,â the Knight repeated as before: ânot the next day. In fact,â he went on, holding his head down, and his voice getting lower and lower, âI donât believe that pudding ever was cooked! In fact, I donât believe that pudding ever will be cooked! And yet it was a very clever pudding to invent.â
âWhat did you mean it to be made of?â Alice asked, hoping to cheer him up, for the poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.
âIt began with blotting paper,â the Knight answered with a groan.
âThat wouldnât be very nice, Iâm afraidââ
âNot very nice alone,â he interrupted, quite eagerly: âbut youâve no idea what a difference it makes mixing it with other thingsâsuch as gunpowder and sealing-wax. And here I must leave you.â They had just come to the end of the wood.
Alice could only look puzzled: she was thinking of the pudding.
âYou are sad,â the Knight said in an anxious tone: âlet me sing you a song to comfort you.â
âIs it very long?â Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry that day.
âItâs long,â said the Knight, âbut very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing itâeither it brings the tears into their eyes, or elseââ
âOr else what?â said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.
âOr else it doesnât, you know. The name of the song is called âHaddocksâ Eyes.ââ
âOh, thatâs the name of the song, is it?â Alice said, trying to feel interested.
âNo, you donât understand,â the Knight said, looking a little vexed. âThatâs what the name is called. The name really is âThe Aged Aged Man.ââ
âThen I ought to have said âThatâs what the song is calledâ?â Alice corrected herself.
âNo, you oughtnât: thatâs quite another thing! The song is called âWays and Meansâ: but thatâs only what itâs called, you know!â
âWell, what is the song, then?â said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.
âI was coming to that,â the Knight said. âThe song really is âA-sitting On A Gateâ: and the tuneâs my own invention.â
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 his gentle 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 The Looking-Glass, this was the one that she always remembered most clearly. Years afterwards she could bring the whole scene back again, as if it had been only yesterdayâthe mild blue eyes and kindly smile of the Knightâthe setting sun gleaming through his hair, and shining on his armour in a blaze of light that quite dazzled herâthe horse quietly moving about, with the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the grass at her feetâand the black shadows of the forest behindâall 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 half dream, to the melancholy music of the song.
âBut the tune isnât his own invention,â she said to herself: âitâs âI give thee all, I can no more.ââ She stood and listened very attentively, but no tears came into her eyes.
âIâll tell thee everything I can;
Thereâs little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
âWho are you, aged man?â I said,
âand how is it you live?â
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.
He said âI 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,â he said,
âWho sail on stormy seas;
And thatâs the way I get my breadâ
A trifle, if you please.â
But I was thinking of a plan
To dye oneâs 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, âCome, tell me how you live!â
And thumped him on the head.
His accents mild took up the tale:
He said âI go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rolandsâ Macassar Oilâ
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.â
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:
âCome, tell me how you live,â I cried,
âAnd what it is you do!â
He said âI hunt for haddocksâ 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.
âI sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs;
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
And thatâs the wayâ (he gave a wink)
âBy which I get my wealthâ
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honourâs noble health.â
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 eâer 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 knowâ
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 buffaloâ
That summer evening, long ago,
A-sitting on a gate.â

As the Knight sang the last words of the ballad, he gathered up the reins, and turned his horseâs head along the road by which they had come. âYouâve only a few yards to go,â he said, âdown the hill and over that little brook, and then youâll be a QueenâBut youâll stay and see me off first?â he added as Alice turned with an eager look in the direction to which he pointed. âI shanât be long. Youâll wait and wave your handkerchief when I get to that turn in the road? I think itâll encourage me, you see.â
âOf course Iâll wait,â said Alice: âand thank you very much for coming so farâand for the songâI liked it very much.â
âI hope so,â the Knight said doubtfully: âbut you didnât cry so much as I thought you would.â
So they shook hands, and then the Knight rode slowly away into the forest. âIt wonât take long to see him off, I expect,â Alice said to herself, as she stood watching him. âThere he goes! Right on his head as usual! However, he gets on again pretty easilyâthat comes of having so many things hung round the horseââ So she went on talking to herself, as she watched the horse walking leisurely along the road, and the Knight tumbling off, first on one side and then on the other. After the fourth or fifth tumble he reached the turn, and then she waved her handkerchief to him, and waited till he was out of sight.
âI hope it encouraged him,â she said, as she turned to run down the hill: âand now for the last brook, and to be a Queen! How grand it sounds!â A very few steps brought her to the edge of the brook. âThe Eighth Square at last!â she cried as she bounded across,
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
and threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss, with little flower-beds dotted about it here and there. âOh, how glad I am to get here! And what is this on my head?â she exclaimed in a tone of dismay, as she put her hands up to something very heavy, and fitted tight all round her head.
âBut how can it have got there without my knowing it?â she said to herself, as she lifted it off, and set it on her lap to make out what it could possibly be.
It was a golden crown.

Chapter 9: Queen Alice
âWell, this is grand!â said Alice. âI never expected I should be a Queen so soonâand Iâll tell you what it is, your majesty,â she went on in a severe tone (she was always rather fond of scolding herself), âitâll never do for you to be lolling about on the grass like that! Queens have to be dignified, you know!â
So she got up and walked aboutârather stiffly just at first, as she was afraid that the crown might come off: but she comforted herself with the thought that there was nobody to see her, âand if I really am a Queen,â she said as she sat down again, âI shall be able to manage it quite well in time.â
Everything was happening so oddly that she didnât feel a bit surprised at finding the Red Queen and the White Queen sitting close to her, one on each side: she would have liked very much to ask them how they came there, but she feared it would not be quite civil. However, there would be no harm, she thought, in asking if the game was over. âPlease, would you tell meââ she began, looking timidly at the Red Queen.

âSpeak when youâre spoken to!â The Queen sharply interrupted her.
âBut if everybody obeyed that rule,â said Alice, who was always ready for a little argument, âand if you only spoke when you were spoken to, and the other person always waited for you to begin, you see nobody would ever say anything, so thatââ
âRidiculous!â cried the Queen. âWhy, donât you see, childââ here she broke off with a frown, and, after thinking for a minute, suddenly changed the subject of the conversation. âWhat do you mean by âIf you really are a Queenâ? What right have you to call yourself so? You canât be a Queen, you know, till youâve passed the proper examination. And the sooner we begin it, the better.â
âI only said âifâ!â poor Alice pleaded in a piteous tone.
The two Queens looked at each other, and the Red Queen remarked, with a little shudder, âShe says she only said âifâââ
âBut she said a great deal more than that!â the White Queen moaned, wringing her hands. âOh, ever so much more than that!â
âSo you did, you know,â the Red Queen said to Alice. âAlways speak the truthâthink before you speakâand write it down afterwards.â
âIâm sure I didnât meanââ Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen interrupted her impatiently.
âThatâs just what I complain of! You should have meant! What do you suppose is the use of child without any meaning? Even a joke should have some meaningâand a childâs more important than a joke, I hope. You couldnât deny that, even if you tried with both hands.â
âI donât deny things with my hands,â Alice objected.
âNobody said you did,â said the Red Queen. âI said you couldnât if you tried.â
âSheâs in that state of mind,â said the White Queen, âthat she wants to deny somethingâonly she doesnât know what to deny!â
âA nasty, vicious temper,â the Red Queen remarked; and then there was an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two.
The Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, âI invite you to Aliceâs dinner-party this afternoon.â
The White Queen smiled feebly, and said âAnd I invite you.â
âI didnât know I was to have a party at all,â said Alice; âbut if there is to be one, I think I ought to invite the guests.â
âWe gave you the opportunity of doing it,â the Red Queen remarked: âbut I daresay youâve not had many lessons in manners yet?â
âManners are not taught in lessons,â said Alice. âLessons teach you to do sums, and things of that sort.â
âAnd you do Addition?â the White Queen asked. âWhatâs one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?â
âI donât know,â said Alice. âI lost count.â
âShe canât do Addition,â the Red Queen interrupted. âCan you do Subtraction? Take nine from eight.â
âNine from eight I canât, you know,â Alice replied very readily: âbutââ
âShe canât do Subtraction,â said the White Queen. âCan you do Division? Divide a loaf by a knifeâwhatâs the answer to that?â
âI supposeââ Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her. âBread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone from a dog: what remains?â
Alice considered. âThe bone wouldnât remain, of course, if I took itâand the dog wouldnât remain; it would come to bite meâand Iâm sure I shouldnât remain!â
âThen you think nothing would remain?â said the Red Queen.
âI think thatâs the answer.â
âWrong, as usual,â said the Red Queen: âthe dogâs temper would remain.â
âBut I donât see howââ
âWhy, look here!â the Red Queen cried. âThe dog would lose its temper, wouldnât it?â
âPerhaps it would,â Alice replied cautiously.
âThen if the dog went away, its temper would remain!â the Queen exclaimed triumphantly.
Alice said, as gravely as she could, âThey might go different ways.â But she couldnât help thinking to herself, âWhat dreadful nonsense we are talking!â
âShe canât do sums a bit!â the Queens said together, with great emphasis.
âCan you do sums?â Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen, for she didnât like being found fault with so much.
The Queen gasped and shut her eyes. âI can do Addition, if you give me timeâbut I canât do Subtraction, under any circumstances!â
âOf course you know your A B C?â said the Red Queen.
âTo be sure I do.â said Alice.
âSo do I,â the White Queen whispered: âweâll often say it over together, dear. And Iâll tell you a secretâI can read words of one letter! Isnât that grand! However, donât be discouraged. Youâll come to it in time.â
Here the Red Queen began again. âCan you answer useful questions?â she said. âHow is bread made?â
âI know that!â Alice cried eagerly. âYou take some flourââ
âWhere do you pick the flower?â the White Queen asked. âIn a garden, or in the hedges?â
âWell, it isnât picked at all,â Alice explained: âitâs groundââ
âHow many acres of ground?â said the White Queen. âYou mustnât leave out so many things.â
âFan her head!â the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. âSheâll be feverish after so much thinking.â 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.
âSheâs all right again now,â said the Red Queen. âDo you know Languages? Whatâs the French for fiddle-de-dee?â
âFiddle-de-deeâs not English,â Alice replied gravely.
âWho ever said it was?â said the Red Queen.
Alice thought she saw a way out of the difficulty this time. âIf youâll tell me what language âfiddle-de-deeâ is, Iâll tell you the French for it!â she exclaimed triumphantly.
But the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said âQueens never make bargains.â
âI wish Queens never asked questions,â Alice thought to herself.
âDonât let us quarrel,â the White Queen said in an anxious tone. âWhat is the cause of lightning?â
âThe cause of lightning,â Alice said very decidedly, for she felt quite certain about this, âis the thunderâno, no!â she hastily corrected herself. âI meant the other way.â
âItâs too late to correct it,â said the Red Queen: âwhen youâve once said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences.â
âWhich reminds meââ the White Queen said, looking down and nervously clasping and unclasping her hands, âwe had such a thunderstorm last TuesdayâI mean one of the last set of Tuesdays, you know.â
Alice was puzzled. âIn our country,â she remarked, âthereâs only one day at a time.â
The Red Queen said, âThatâs a poor thin way of doing things. Now here, we mostly have days and nights two or three at a time, and sometimes in the winter we take as many as five nights togetherâfor warmth, you know.â
âAre five nights warmer than one night, then?â Alice ventured to ask.
âFive times as warm, of course.â
âBut they should be five times as cold, by the same ruleââ
âJust so!â cried the Red Queen. âFive times as warm, and five times as coldâjust as Iâm five times as rich as you are, and five times as clever!â
Alice sighed and gave it up. âItâs exactly like a riddle with no answer!â she thought.
âHumpty Dumpty saw it too,â the White Queen went on in a low voice, more as if she were talking to herself. âHe came to the door with a corkscrew in his handââ
âWhat did he want?â said the Red Queen.
âHe said he would come in,â the White Queen went on, âbecause he was looking for a hippopotamus. Now, as it happened, there wasnât such a thing in the house, that morning.â
âIs there generally?â Alice asked in an astonished tone.
âWell, only on Thursdays,â said the Queen.
âI know what he came for,â said Alice: âhe wanted to punish the fish, becauseââ
Here the White Queen began again. âIt was such a thunderstorm, you canât think!â (âShe never could, you know,â said the Red Queen.) âAnd part of the roof came off, and ever so much thunder got inâand it went rolling round the room in great lumpsâand knocking over the tables and thingsâtill I was so frightened, I couldnât remember my own name!â
Alice thought to herself, âI never should try to remember my name in the middle of an accident! Where would be the use of it?â but she did not say this aloud, for fear of hurting the poor Queenâs feeling.
âYour Majesty must excuse her,â the Red Queen said to Alice, taking one of the White Queenâs hands in her own, and gently stroking it: âshe means well, but she canât help saying foolish things, as a general rule.â
The White Queen looked timidly at Alice, who felt she ought to say something kind, but really couldnât think of anything at the moment.
âShe never was really well brought up,â the Red Queen went on: âbut itâs amazing how good-tempered she is! Pat her on the head, and see how pleased sheâll be!â But this was more than Alice had courage to do.
âA little kindnessâand putting her hair in papersâwould do wonders with herââ
The White Queen gave a deep sigh, and laid her head on Aliceâs shoulder. âI am so sleepy?â she moaned.
âSheâs tired, poor thing!â said the Red Queen. âSmooth her hairâlend her your nightcapâand sing her a soothing lullaby.â
âI havenât got a nightcap with me,â said Alice, as she tried to obey the first direction: âand I donât know any soothing lullabies.â
âI must do it myself, then,â said the Red Queen, and she began:
âHush-a-by lady, in Aliceâs lap!
Till the feastâs ready, weâve time for a nap:
When the feastâs over, weâll go to the ballâ
Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!
âAnd now you know the words,â she added, as she put her head down on Aliceâs other shoulder, âjust sing it through to me. Iâm getting sleepy, too.â In another moment both Queens were fast asleep, and snoring loud.

âWhat am I to do?â exclaimed Alice, looking about in great perplexity, as first one round head, and then the other, rolled down from her shoulder, and lay like a heavy lump in her lap. âI donât think it ever happened before, that any one had to take care of two Queens asleep at once! No, not in all the History of Englandâit couldnât, you know, because there never was more than one Queen at a time. Do wake up, you heavy things!â she went on in an impatient tone; but there was no answer but a gentle snoring.
The snoring got more distinct every minute, and sounded more like a tune: at last she could even make out the words, and she listened so eagerly that, when the two great heads vanished from her lap, she hardly missed them.
She was standing before an arched doorway over which were the words QUEEN ALICE in large letters, and on each side of the arch there was a bell-handle; one was marked âVisitorsâ Bell,â and the other âServantsâ Bell.â
âIâll wait till the songâs over,â thought Alice, âand then Iâll ringâtheâwhich bell must I ring?â she went on, very much puzzled by the names. âIâm not a visitor, and Iâm not a servant. There ought to be one marked âQueen,â you knowââ
Just then the door opened a little way, and a creature with a long beak put its head out for a moment and said âNo admittance till the week after next!â and shut 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 was dressed in bright yellow, and had enormous boots on.

âWhat is it, now?â the Frog said in a deep hoarse whisper.
Alice turned round, ready to find fault with anybody. âWhereâs the servant whose business it is to answer the door?â she began angrily.
âWhich door?â said the Frog.
Alice almost stamped with irritation at the slow drawl in which he spoke. âThis door, of course!â
The Frog looked at the door with his large dull eyes for a minute: then he went nearer and rubbed it with his thumb, as if he were trying whether the paint would come off; then he looked at Alice.
âTo answer the door?â he said. âWhatâs it been asking of?â He was so hoarse that Alice could scarcely hear him.
âI donât know what you mean,â she said.
âI talks English, doesnât I?â the Frog went on. âOr are you deaf? What did it ask you?â
âNothing!â Alice said impatiently. âIâve been knocking at it!â
âShouldnât do thatâshouldnât do thatââ the Frog muttered. âVexes it, you know.â Then he went up and gave the door a kick with one of his great feet. âYou let it alone,â he panted out, as he hobbled back to his tree, âand itâll let you alone, you know.â
At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing:
âTo the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said,
âIâve a sceptre in hand, Iâve 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.ââ
And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus:
âThen 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 teaâ
And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!â
Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself, âThirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any oneâs counting?â In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill voice sang another verse;
ââO Looking-Glass creatures,â quoth Alice, âdraw near!
âTis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:
âTis a privilege high to have dinner and tea
Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!ââ
Then came the chorus again:â
âThen 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 wineâ
And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!â
âNinety times nine!â Alice repeated in despair, âOh, thatâll never be done! Iâd better go in at onceââ and there was a dead silence the moment she appeared.
Alice glanced nervously along the table, as she walked up the large hall, and noticed that there were about fifty guests, of all kinds: some were animals, some birds, and there were even a few flowers among them. âIâm glad theyâve come without waiting to be asked,â she thought: âI should never have known who were the right people to invite!â
There were three chairs at the head of the table; the Red and White Queens had already 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. âYouâve missed the soup and fish,â she said. âPut on the joint!â And the waiters set a leg of mutton before Alice, who looked at it rather anxiously, as she had never had to carve a joint before.
âYou look a little shy; let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,â said the Red Queen. âAliceâMutton; MuttonâAlice.â The leg of mutton got up in the dish and made a little bow to Alice; and Alice returned the bow, not knowing whether to be frightened or amused.
âMay I give you a slice?â she said, taking up the knife and fork, and looking from one Queen to the other.
âCertainly not,â the Red Queen said, very decidedly: âit isnât etiquette to cut any one youâve been introduced to. Remove the joint!â And the waiters carried it off, and brought a large plum-pudding in its place.
âI wonât be introduced to the pudding, please,â Alice said rather hastily, âor we shall get no dinner at all. May I give you some?â
But the Red Queen looked sulky, and growled âPuddingâAlice; AliceâPudding. Remove the pudding!â and the waiters took it away so quickly that Alice couldnât return its bow.
However, she didnât see why the Red Queen should be the only one to give orders, so, as an experiment, she called out âWaiter! Bring back the pudding!â and there it was again in a moment like a conjuring-trick. It was so large that she couldnât help feeling a little shy with it, as she had been with the mutton; however, she conquered her shyness by a great effort and cut a slice and handed it to the Red Queen.
âWhat impertinence!â said the Pudding. âI wonder how youâd like it, if I were to cut a slice out of you, you creature!â
It spoke in a thick, suety sort of voice, and Alice hadnât a word to say in reply: she could only sit and look at it and gasp.
âMake a remark,â said the Red Queen: âitâs ridiculous to leave all the conversation to the pudding!â
âDo you know, Iâve had such a quantity of poetry repeated to me to-day,â Alice began, a little frightened at finding that, the moment she opened her lips, there was dead silence, and all eyes were fixed upon her; âand itâs a very curious thing, I thinkâevery poem was about fishes in some way. Do you know why theyâre so fond of fishes, all about here?â
She spoke to the Red Queen, whose answer was a little wide of the mark. âAs to fishes,â she said, very slowly and solemnly, putting her mouth close to Aliceâs ear, âher White Majesty knows a lovely riddleâall in poetryâall about fishes. Shall she repeat it?â
âHer Red Majestyâs very kind to mention it,â the White Queen murmured into Aliceâs other ear, in a voice like the cooing of a pigeon. âIt would be such a treat! May I?â

âPlease do,â Alice said very politely.
The White Queen laughed with delight, and stroked Aliceâs cheek. Then she began:
ââFirst, the fish must be caught.â
That is easy: a baby, I think, could have caught it.
âNext, the fish must be bought.â
That is easy: a penny, I think, would have bought it.
âNow cook me the fish!â
That is easy, and will not take more than a minute.
âLet it lie in a dish!â
That is easy, because it already is in it.
âBring it here! Let me sup!â
It is easy to set such a dish on the table.
âTake the dish-cover up!â
Ah, that is so hard that I fear Iâm unable!
For it holds it like glueâ
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?â
âTake a minute to think about it, and then guess,â said the Red Queen. âMeanwhile, weâll drink your healthâQueen Aliceâs health!â she screamed at the top of her voice, and all the guests began drinking it directly, and very queerly they managed it: some of them put their glasses upon their heads like extinguishers, and drank all that trickled down their facesâothers upset the decanters, and drank the wine as it ran off the edges of the tableâand three of them (who looked like kangaroos) scrambled into the dish of roast mutton, and began eagerly lapping up the gravy, âjust like pigs in a trough!â thought Alice.
âYou ought to return thanks in a neat speech,â the Red Queen said, frowning at Alice as she spoke.
âWe must support you, you know,â the White Queen whispered, as Alice got up to do it, very obediently, but a little frightened.
âThank you very much,â she whispered in reply, âbut I can do quite well without.â
âThat wouldnât be at all the thing,â the Red Queen said very decidedly: so Alice tried to submit to it with a good grace.
(âAnd they did push so!â she said afterwards, when she was telling her sister the history of the feast. âYou would have thought they wanted to squeeze me flat!â)
In fact it was rather difficult for her to keep in her place while she made her speech: the two Queens pushed her so, one on each side, that they nearly lifted her up into the air: âI rise to return thanksââ Alice began: and she really did rise as she spoke, several inches; but she got hold of the edge of the table, and managed to pull herself down again.
âTake care of yourself!â screamed the White Queen, seizing Aliceâs hair with both her hands. âSomethingâs going to happen!â
And then (as Alice afterwards described it) all sorts of things happened in a moment. The candles all grew up to the ceiling, looking something like a bed of rushes with fireworks at the top. As to the bottles, they each took a pair of plates, which they hastily fitted on as wings, and so, with forks for legs, went fluttering about in all directions: âand very like birds they look,â Alice thought to herself, as well as she could in the dreadful confusion that was beginning.

At this moment she heard a hoarse laugh at her side, and turned to see what was the matter with the White Queen; but, instead of the Queen, there was the leg of mutton sitting in the chair. âHere I am!â cried a voice from the soup tureen, and Alice turned again, just in time to see the Queenâs broad good-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 lying down in the dishes, and the soup ladle was walking up the table towards Aliceâs chair, and beckoning to her impatiently to get out of its way.
âI canât stand this any longer!â she cried as she jumped up and seized the table-cloth with both hands: one good pull, and plates, dishes, guests, and candles came crashing down together in a heap on the floor.
âAnd as for you,â she went on, turning fiercely upon the Red Queen, whom she considered as the cause of all the mischiefâbut the Queen was no longer at her sideâshe had suddenly dwindled down to the size of a little doll, and was now on the table, merrily running round and round after her own shawl, which was trailing behind her.
At any other time, Alice would have felt surprised at this, but she was far too much excited to be surprised at anything now. âAs for you,â she repeated, catching hold of the little creature in the very act of jumping over a bottle which had just lighted upon the table, âIâll shake you into a kitten, that I will!â
Chapter 10: Shaking
She took her off the table as she spoke, and shook her backwards and forwards with all her might.
The Red Queen made no resistance whatever; only her face grew very small, and her eyes got large and green: and still, as Alice went on shaking her, she kept on growing shorterâand fatterâand softerâand rounderâandâ

Chapter 11: Waking
âand it really was a kitten, after all.

Chapter 12: Which Dreamed it?
âYour majesty shouldnât purr so loud,â Alice said, rubbing her eyes, and addressing the kitten, respectfully, yet with some severity. âYou woke me out of oh! such a nice dream! And youâve been along with me, Kittyâall through the Looking-Glass world. Did you know it, dear?â
It is a very inconvenient habit of kittens (Alice had once made the remark) that, whatever you say to them, they always purr. âIf they would only purr for âyesâ and mew for âno,â or any rule of that sort,â she had said, âso that one could keep up a conversation! But how can you talk with a person if they always say the same thing?â
On this occasion the kitten only purred: and it was impossible to guess whether it meant âyesâ or âno.â
So Alice hunted among the chessmen on the table till she had found the Red Queen: then she went down on her knees on the hearth-rug, and put the kitten and the Queen to look at each other. âNow, Kitty!â she cried, clapping her hands triumphantly. âConfess that was what you turned into!â
(âBut it wouldnât look at it,â she said, when she was explaining the thing afterwards to her sister: âit turned away its head, and pretended not to see it: but it looked a little ashamed of itself, so I think it must have been the Red Queen.â)

âSit up a little more stiffly, dear!â Alice cried with a merry laugh. âAnd curtsey while youâre thinking what toâwhat to purr. It saves time, remember!â And she caught it up and gave it one little kiss, âjust in honour of having been a Red Queen.â
âSnowdrop, my pet!â she went on, looking over her shoulder at the White Kitten, which was still patiently undergoing its toilet, âwhen will Dinah have finished with your White Majesty, I wonder? That must be the reason you were so untidy in my dreamâDinah! do you know that youâre scrubbing a White Queen? Really, itâs most disrespectful of you!
âAnd what did Dinah turn to, I wonder?â she prattled on, as she settled comfortably down, with one elbow in the rug, and her chin in her hand, to watch the kittens. âTell me, Dinah, did you turn to Humpty Dumpty? I think you didâhowever, youâd better not mention it to your friends just yet, for Iâm not sure.
âBy the way, Kitty, if only youâd been really with me in my dream, there was one thing you would have enjoyedâI had such a quantity of poetry said to me, all about fishes! To-morrow morning you shall have a real treat. All the time youâre eating your breakfast, Iâll repeat âThe Walrus and the Carpenterâ to you; and then you can make believe itâs oysters, dear!
âNow, Kitty, letâs consider who it was that dreamed it all. This is a serious question, my dear, and you should not go on licking your paw like thatâas if Dinah hadnât washed you this morning! You see, Kitty, it must have been either me or the Red King. He was part of my dream, of courseâbut then I was part of his dream, too! Was it the Red King, Kitty? You were his wife, my dear, so you ought to knowâOh, Kitty, do help to settle it! Iâm sure your paw can wait!â But the provoking kitten only began on the other paw, and pretended it hadnât heard the question.
Which do you think it was?
A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of Julyâ
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hearâ
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 streamâ
Lingering in the golden gleamâ
Life, what is it but a dream?