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

  This was the poem that Alice read.


                           JABBERWOCKY

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

            `Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
              The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
            Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
              The frumious Bandersnatch!'

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

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

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

            `And has thou slain the Jabberwock?
              Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
            O frabjous day!  Calloh!  Callay!
              He chortled in his joy.

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


  `It seems very pretty,' she said when she had finished it, `but it's
RATHER hard to understand!' (You see she didn't like to confess, ever to
herself, that she couldn't make it out at all.) `Somehow it seems to fill
my head with ideas -- only I don't exactly know what they are!  However,
SOMEBODY killed SOMETHING: that's clear, at any rate -- '

                                   * * *

  `O Tiger-lily,' said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving
gracefully about in the wind, `I WISH you could talk!'

  `We CAN talk,' said the Tiger-lily:  `when there's anybody worth talking
to."

  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 voice -- almost in a whisper.  
`And can ALL the flowers talk?'

  `As well as YOU can,' said the Tiger-lily.  `And a great deal louder.'

  `It isn't manners for us to begin, you know,' said the Rose, `and I
really was wondering when you'd speak!  Said I to myself, "Her face has
got SOME sense in it, thought it's not a clever one!"  Still, you're the
right colour, and that goes a long way.'

  `I don't care about the colour,' the Tiger-lily remarked.  `If only her
petals curled up a little more, she'd be all right.'

  Alice didn't like being criticised, so she began asking questions.  
`Aren't you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to
take care of you?'

  `There's the tree in the middle,' said the Rose:  `what else is it good
for?'

  `But what could it do, if any danger came?' Alice asked.

  `It says "Bough-wough!" cried a Daisy:  `that's why its branches are
called boughs!'

  `Didn't you know THAT?' cried another Daisy, and here they all began
shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices.  
`Silence, every one of you!' cried the Tiger- lily, waving itself
passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement.  `They know
I can't get at them!' it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice,
`or they wouldn't dare to do it!'

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

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

  `That's right!' said the Tiger-lily.  `The daisies are worst of all.  
When one speaks, they all begin together, and it's enough to make one
wither to hear the way they go on!'

  `How is it you can all talk so nicely?' Alice said, hoping to get it
into a better temper by a compliment.  `I've been in many gardens before,
but none of the flowers could talk.'

  `Put your hand down, and feel the ground,' said the Tiger-lily. `Then
you'll know why.

  Alice did so.  `It's very hard,' she said, `but I don't see what that
has to do with it.'

  `In most gardens,' the Tiger-lily said, `they make the beds too soft --
so that the flowers are always asleep.'

  This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it.  
`I never thought of that before!' she said.

                                   * * *

  `What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where you come from?' the Gnat
inquired.

  `I don't rejoice in insects at all,' Alice explained, `because I'm
rather afraid of them -- at least the large kinds.  But I can tell you the
names of some of them."

  `Of course they answer to their names?' the Gnat remarked carelessly.

  `I never knew them do it.'

  `What's the use of their having names the Gnat said, `if they won't
answer to them?'

  `No use to THEM,' said Alice; `but it's useful to the people who name
them, I suppose.  If not, why do things have names at all?'

  `I can't say,' the Gnat replied.  `Further on, in the wood down there,
they've got no names -- however, go on with your list of insects:  you're
wasting time.'

  `Well, there's the Horse-fly,' Alice began, counting off the names on
her fingers.

  `All right,' said the Gnat:  `half way up that bush, you'll see a
Rocking-horse-fly, if you look.  It's made entirely of wood, and gets
about by swinging itself from branch to branch.'

  `What does it live on?' Alice asked, with great curiosity.

  `Sap and sawdust,' said the Gnat.  `Go on with the list.'

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

  `And there's the Dragon-fly.'

  `Look on the branch above your head,' said the Gnat, `and there you'll
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.'

  `And what does it live on?'

  `Frumenty and mince pie,' the Gnat replied; `and it makes is nest in a
Christmas box.'

  `And then there's the Butterfly,' Alice went on, after she had taken a
good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to herself,
`I wonder if that's the reason insects are so fond of flying into candles
-- because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!'

  `Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some
alarm), `you 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.'

  `And what does it live on?'

  `Weak tea with cream in it.'

  A new difficulty came into Alice's head.  `Supposing it couldn't find
any?' she suggested.

  `Then it would die, of course.'

  `But that must happen very often,' Alice remarked thoughtfully.

  `It always happens,' said the Gnat.

  After this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat
amused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head:  at last it
settled again and remarked, `I suppose you don't want to lose your name?'

  `No, indeed,' Alice said, a little anxiously.

  `And yet I don't know,' the Gnat went on in a careless tone: `only think
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 "come here -- ," and there she would have to leave off,
because there wouldn't be any name for her to all, and of course you
wouldn't have to go, you know.'

  `That would never do, I'm sure,' said Alice:  `the governess would never
think of excusing me lessons for that.  If she couldn't remember my name,
she'd call me "Miss!" as the servants do.'

  `Well, if she said "Miss," and didn't say anything more,' the Gnat
remarked, `of course you'd miss your lessons.  That's a joke.  I wish YOU
had made it.'

  `Why do you wish I had made it?' Alice asked.  `It's a very bad one.'

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

  `You shouldn't make jokes,' Alice said, `if it makes you so unhappy.'

  Then came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the
poor 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.

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

  They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was
just looking round to see if the word "TWEEDLE" was written at the back of
each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked
`DUM.'

  `If you think we're wax-works,' he said, `you ought to pay, you know.  
Wax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing, Nohow!'

  `Contrariwise,' added the one marked `DEE,' `if you think we're alive,
you ought to speak.'

  `I'm sure I'm very sorry,' 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: --


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

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

  `I know what you're thinking about,' said Tweedledum:  `but it isn't so,
nohow.'

  `Contrariwise,' continued Tweedledee, `if it was so, it might be; and if
it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.'

  `I was thinking,' Alice said very politely, `which is the best way out
of this wood:  it's getting so dark.  Would you tell me, please?'

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

  They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice
couldn't help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying `First Boy!'

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

  `Next Boy!' said Alice, passing on to Tweedledee, though she felt quite
certain he would only shout out "Contrariwise!' and so he did.

  `You've been wrong!' cried Tweedledum.  `The first thing in a visit is
to say "How d'ye do?" and shake hands!' And here the two brothers gave
each other 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 one's feelings; so, as the best way out of the
difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once:  the next moment they
were dancing found 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.

  `But it certainly WAS funny,' (Alice said afterwards, when she was
telling her sister the history of all this,) `to find myself singing "HERE
WE GO ROUND THE MULBERRY BUSH."  I don't know when I began it, but somehow
I felt as if I'd been singing it a long long time!'

  The other two dancers were fat, and very soon out of breath. `Four times
round is enough for one dance,' 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 Alice's hands, and stood looking at her for a
minute:  there was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn't know how to
begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with.  `It
would never do to say "How d'ye do?" NOW,' she said to herself:  `we seem
to have got beyond that, somehow!'

  `I hope you're not much tired?' she said at last.

  `Nohow.  And thank you VERY much for asking,' said Tweedledum.

  `So much obliged!' added Tweedledee.  `You like poetry?'

  `Ye-es. pretty well -- SOME poetry,' Alice said doubtfully. `Would you
tell me which road leads out of the wood?'

  `What shall I repeat to her?' said Tweedledee, looking round at
Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice's question.

  `"THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER" is the longest,' Tweedledum replied,
giving his brother an affectionate hug.

  Tweedledee began instantly:

                `The sun was shining -- '

  Here Alice ventured to interrupt him.  `If it's VERY long,' she said, as
politely as she could, `would you please tell me first which road -- '

  Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  `I like the Walrus best,' said Alice:  `because you see he was a LITTLE
sorry for the poor oysters.'

  `He ate more than the Carpenter, though,' said Tweedledee. `You see he
held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn't count how
many he took:  contrariwise.'

  `That was mean!' Alice said indignantly.  `Then I like the Carpenter
best -- if he didn't eat so many as the Walrus.'

  `But he ate as many as he could get,' said Tweedledum.

  This was a puzzler.  After a pause, Alice began, `Well!  They were BOTH
very unpleasant characters -- ' 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, thought she feared it was more likely
to be a wild beast.  `Are there any lions or tigers about here?' she asked
timidly.

  `It's only the Red King snoring,' said Tweedledee.

  `Come and look at him!' the brothers cried, and they each took one of
Alice's hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.

  `Isn't he a LOVELY sight?" said Tweedledum.

  Alice couldn't 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 loud -- `fit to snore his head off!' as Tweedledum
remarked.

  `I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass,' said Alice,
who was a very thoughtful little girl.

  `He's dreaming now,' said Tweedledee:  `and what do you think he's
dreaming about?'

  Alice said `Nobody can guess that.'

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

  `Where I am now, of course,' said Alice.

  `Not you!' Tweedledee retorted contemptuously.  `You'd be nowhere.  
Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream!'

  `If that there King was to wake,' added Tweedledum, `you'd go out --
bang! -- just like a candle!'

  `I shouldn't!' Alice exclaimed indignantly.  `Besides, if I'M only a
sort of thing in his dream, what are YOU, I should like to know?'

  `Ditto' said Tweedledum.

  `Ditto, ditto' cried Tweedledee.

  He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn't help saying, `Hush! You'll
be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise.'

  `Well, it no use YOUR talking about waking him,' said Tweedledum, `when
you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not
real.'

  `I AM real!' said Alice and began to cry.

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

  `If I wasn't real,' Alice said -- half-laughing though her tears, it all
seemed so ridiculous -- `I shouldn't be able to cry.'

  `I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?' Tweedledum interrupted
in a tone of great contempt.

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

  Tweedledum spread a large umbrella over himself and his brother, and
looked up into it.  `No, I don't think it is,' he said:  `at least -- not
under HERE.  Nohow.'

  `But it may rain OUTSIDE?'

  `It may -- if it chooses,' said Tweedledee:  `we've no objection.  
Contrariwise.'

  `Selfish things!' thought Alice, and she was just going to say
`Good-night' and leave them, when Tweedledum sprang out from under the
umbrella and seized her by the wrist.

  `Do you see THAT?' 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.

  `It's only a rattle,' Alice said, after a careful examination of the
little white thing.  `Not a rattleSNAKE, you know,' she added hastily,
thinking that he was frightened:  only an old rattle -- quite old and
broken.'

  `I knew it was!' cried Tweedledum, beginning to stamp about wildly and
tear his hair.  `It's spoilt, of course!' 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, `You
needn't be so angry about an old rattle.'

  `But it isn't old!' Tweedledum cried, in a greater fury than ever.  
`It's new, I tell you -- I bought it yesterday -- my nice New RATTLE!' 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 Alice's attention from the angry brother.  But he couldn't
quite succeed, and it ended in his rolling over, bundled up in the
umbrella, with only his head out:  and there he lay, opening and shutting
his mouth and his large eyes -- 'looking more like a fish than anything
else,' Alice thought.

  `Of course you agree to have a battle?' Tweedledum said in a calmer
tone.

  `I suppose so,' the other sulkily replied, as he crawled out of the
umbrella:  `only SHE must help us to dress up, you know.'

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

  Alice said afterwards she had never seen such a fuss made about anything
in all her life -- the way those two bustled about -- and the quantity of
things they put on -- and the trouble they gave her in tying strings and
fastening buttons -- `Really they'll be more like bundles of old clothes
that anything else, by the time they're ready!' she said to herself, as he
arranged a bolster round the neck of Tweedledee, `to keep his head from
being cut off,' as he said.

  `You know,' he added very gravely, `it's one of the most serious things
that can possibly happen to one in a battle -- to get one's head cut off.'

  Alice laughed loud:  but she managed to turn it into a cough, for fear
of hurting his feelings.

  `Do I look very pale?' said Tweedledum, coming up to have his helmet
tied on.  (He CALLED it a helmet, though it certainly looked much more
like a saucepan.)

  `Well -- yes -- a LITTLE,' Alice replied gently.

  `I'm very brave generally,' he went on in a low voice:  `only to-day I
happen to have a headache.'

  `And I'VE got a toothache!' said Tweedledee, who had overheard the
remark.  `I'm far worse off than you!'

  `Then you'd better not fight to-day,' said Alice, thinking it a good
opportunity to make peace.

  `We MUST have a bit of a fight, but I don't care about going on long,'
said Tweedledum.  `What's the time now?'

  Tweedledee looked at his watch, and said `Half-past four.'

  `Let's fight till six, and then have dinner,' said Tweedledum.

  `Very well,' the other said, rather sadly:  `and SHE can watch us --
only you'd better not come VERY close,' he added:  `I generally hit
everything I can see -- when I get really excited.'

  `And I hit everything within reach,' cried Tweedledum, `whether I can
see it or not!'

  Alice laughed.  `You must hit the TREES pretty often, I should think,'
she said.

  Tweedledum looked round him with a satisfied smile.  I don't suppose,'
he said, `there'll be a tree left standing, for ever so far round, by the
time we've finished!'

  `And all about a rattle!' said Alice, still hoping to make them a LITTLE
ashamed of fighting for such a trifle.

  `I shouldn't have minded it so much,' said Tweedledum, `if it hadn't
been a new one.'

                                   * * *

   The While Queen only looked at her in a helpless frightened sort of
way, and kept repeating something in a whisper to herself that sounded
like `bread-and-butter, bread-and-butter,' and Alice felt that if there
was to be any conversation at all, she must manage it herself.  So she
began rather timidly:  `Am I addressing the White Queen?'

  `Well, yes, if you call that a-dressing,' The Queen said.  `It isn't MY
notion of the thing, at all."

  Alice thought it would never do to have an argument at the very
beginning of their conversation, so she smiled and said, `If your Majesty
will only tell me the right way to begin, I'll do it as well as I can.'

  `But I don't want it done at all!' groaned the poor Queen. `I've been
a-dressing myself for the last two hours.'

  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.  `Every single
thing's crooked,' Alice thought to herself, `and she's all over pins! --
may I put your shawl straight for you?' she added aloud.

  `I don't know what's the matter with it!' the Queen said, in a
melancholy voice.  `It's out of temper, I think.  I've pinned it here, and
I've pinned it there, but there's no pleasing it!'

  `It CAN'T go straight, you know, if you pin it all on one side,' Alice
said, as she gently put it right for her; `and, dear me, what a state your
hair is in!'

  `The brush has got entangled in it!' the Queen said with a sigh. `And I
lost the comb yesterday.'

  Alice carefully released the brush, and did her best to get the hair
into order.  `Come, you look rather better now!' she said, after altering
most of the pins.  `But really you should have a lady's maid!'

  `I'm sure I'll take you with pleasure!' the Queen said. `Twopence a
week, and jam every other day.'

  Alice couldn't help laughing, as she said, `I don't want you to hire ME
-- and I don't care for jam.'

  `It's very good jam,' said the Queen.

  `Well, I don't want any TO-DAY, at any rate.'

  `You couldn't have it if you DID want it,' the Queen said. `The rule is,
jam to-morrow and jam yesterday -- but never jam to-day.'

  `It MUST come sometimes to "jam do-day,"' Alice objected.

  `No, it can't,' said the Queen.  `It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't
any OTHER day, you know.'

  `I don't understand you,' said Alice.  `It's dreadfully confusing!'

  `That's the effect of living backwards,' the Queen said kindly: `it
always makes one a little giddy at first --

  `Living backwards!' Alice repeated in great astonishment.  `I never
heard of such a thing!'

  ` -- but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both
ways.'

  `I'm sure MINE only works one way.' Alice remarked.  `I can't remember
things before they happen.'

  `It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen
remarked.

  `What sort of things do YOU remember best?' Alice ventured to ask.

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

  `Suppose he never commits the crime?' said Alice.

  `That would be all the better wouldn't it?' the Queen said, as she bound
the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.

  Alice felt there was no denying THAT.  `Of course it would be all the
better,' she said:  `but it wouldn't be all the better his being
punished.'

  `You're wrong THERE, at any rate,' said the Queen: `were YOU ever
punished?'

  `Only for faults,' said Alice.

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

  `Yes, but then I HAD done the things I was punished for,' said Alice:  
`that makes all the difference.'

  `But if you HADN'T done them,' the Queen said, `that would have been
better still; better, and better, and better!' Her voice went higher with
each `better,' till it got quite to a squeak at last.

  Alice was just beginning to say `There's a mistake somewhere-,' when the
Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence
unfinished.  `Oh, oh, oh!' shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if
she wanted to shake it off.  `My finger's bleeding!  Oh, oh, oh, oh!'

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

  `What IS the matter?' she said, as soon as there was a chance of making
herself heard.  `Have you pricked your finger?'

  `I haven't pricked it YET,' the Queen said, `but I soon shall - - oh,
oh, oh!'

  `When do you expect to do it?' Alice asked, feeling very much inclined
to laugh.

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

  `Take care!' cried Alice.  `You're holding it all crooked!' And she
caught at the brooch; but it was too late:  the pin had slipped, and the
Queen had pricked her finger.

  `That accounts for the bleeding, you see,' she said to Alice with a
smile.  `Now you understand the way things happen here.'

  `But why don't you scream now?' Alice asked, holding her hands ready to
put over her ears again.

  `Why, I've done all the screaming already,' said the Queen. `What would
be the good of having it all over again?'

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

  `I wish I could manage to be glad!' the Queen said.  `Only I never can
remember the rule.  You must be very happy, living in this wood, and being
glad whenever you like!'

  `Only it is so VERY lonely here!' Alice said in a melancholy voice; and
at the thought of her loneliness two large tears came rolling down her
cheeks.

  `Oh, don't go on like that!' cried the poor Queen, wringing her hands in
despair.  `Consider what a great girl you are.  Consider what a long way
you've come to-day.  Consider what o'clock it is. Consider anything, only
don't cry!'

  Alice could not help laughing at this, even in the midst of her tears.  
`Can YOU keep from crying by considering things?' she asked.

  `That's the way it's done,' the Queen said with great decision: `nobody
can do two things at once, you know.  Let's consider you age to begin with
-- how old are you?'

  `I`m seven and a half exactly.'

  `You needn't say "exactly,"' the Queen remarked:  `I can believe it
without that.  Now I'll give YOU something to believe. I'm just one
hundred and one, five months and a day.'

  `I can't believe THAT!' said Alice.

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

  Alice laughed.  `There's not use trying,' she said: `one CAN'T believe
impossible things.'

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

                                   * * *

  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.  `It can't be anybody else!' she said to
herself.  `I'm as certain of it, as if his name were written all over his
face.'

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

  `And how exactly like an egg he is!' she said aloud, standing with her
hands ready to catch him, for she was every moment expecting him to fall.

  `It's VERY provoking,' Humpty Dumpty said after a long silence, looking
away from Alice as he spoke, `to be called an egg -- VERY!'

  `I said you LOOKED like an egg, Sir,' Alice gently explained. `And some
eggs are very pretty, you know, she added, hoping to turn her remark into
a sort of a compliment.

  `Some people,' said Humpty Dumpty, looking away from her as usual, `have
no more sense than a baby!'

  Alice didn't know what to say to this:  it wasn't at all like
conversation, she thought, as he never said anything to HER; in fact, his
last remark was evidently addressed to a tree -- so she stood and softly
repeated to herself:  --


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


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

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

  `My NAME is Alice, but -- '

  `It's a stupid name enough!' Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently.  
`What does it mean?'

  `MUST a name mean something?' Alice asked doubtfully.

  `Of course it must,' Humpty Dumpty said with a sort laugh:  `MY name
means the shape I am -- and a good handsome shape it is, too.  With a name
like your, you might be any shape, almost.'

  `Why do you sit out here all alone?' said Alice, not wishing to begin an
argument.

  `Why, because there's nobody with me!' cried Humpty Dumpty. `Did you
think I didn't know the answer to THAT?  Ask another.'

  `Don't you think you'd be safer down on the ground?' Alice went on, not
with any idea of making another riddle, but simply in her good-natured
anxiety for the queer creature.  `That wall is so VERY narrow!'

  `What tremendously easy riddles you ask!' Humpty Dumpty growled out. `Of
course I don't think so!  Why, if ever I DID fall off - - which there's no
chance of -- but IF I did -- ' Here he pursed his lips and looked so
solemn and grand that Alice could hardly help laughing.  `IF I did fall,'
he went on, `THE KING HAS PROMISED ME -- WITH HIS VERY OWN MOUTH -- to --
to -- '

  `To send all his horses and all his men,' Alice interrupted, rather
unwisely.

  `Now I declare that's too bad!' Humpty Dumpty cried, breaking into a
sudden passion.  `You've been listening at doors -- and behind trees --
and sown chimneys -- or you couldn't have known it!'

  `I haven't, indeed!' Alice said very gently.  `It's in a book.'

  `Ah, well!  They may write such things in a BOOK,' Humpty Dumpty said in
a calmer tone.  `That's what you call a History of England, that is.  
Now, take a good look at me!  I'm one that has spoken to a King, I am:  
mayhap you'll never see such another: and to show you I'm not proud, you
may shake hands with me!' And he grinned almost from ear to ear, as he
leant forwards (and as nearly as possible fell of the wall in doing so)
and offered Alice his hand.  She watched him a little anxiously as she
took it.  `If he smiled much more, the ends of his mouth might meet
behind,' she thought:  `and then I don't know what would happen to his
head!  I'm afraid it would come off!'

  `Yes, all his horses and all his men,' Humpty Dumpty went on. `They'd
pick me up again in a minute, THEY would!  However, this conversation is
going on a little too fast:  let's go back to the last remark but one.'

  `I'm afraid I can't quite remember it,' Alice said very politely.

  `In that case we start fresh,' said Humpty Dumpty, `and it's my turn to
choose a subject -- ' (`He talks about it just as if it was a game!'
thought Alice.)  `So here's a question for you.  How old did you say you
were?'

  Alice made a short calculation, and said `Seven years and six months.'

  `Wrong!' Humpty Dumpty exclaimed triumphantly.  `You never said a word
like it!'

  `I though you meant "How old ARE you?"' Alice explained.

  `If I'd meant that, I'd have said it,' said Humpty Dumpty.

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

  `Seven years and six months!' Humpty Dumpty repeated thoughtfully.  `An
uncomfortable sort of age.  Now if you'd asked MY advice, I'd have said
"Leave off at seven" -- but it's too late now.'

  `I never ask advice about growing,' Alice said indignantly.

  `Too proud?' the other inquired.

  Alice felt even more indignant at this suggestion. `I mean,' she said,
`that one can't help growing older.'

  `ONE can't, perhaps,' said Humpty Dumpty, `but TWO can.  With proper
assistance, you might have left off at seven.'

  `What a beautiful belt you've got on!' Alice suddenly remarked.

(They had had quite enough of the subject of age, she thought: and if they
really were to take turns in choosing subjects, it was her turn now.)  
`At least,' she corrected herself on second thoughts, `a beautiful cravat,
I should have said -- no, a belt, I mean -- I beg your pardon!' she added
in dismay, for Humpty Dumpty looked thoroughly offended, and she began to
wish she hadn't chosen that subject.  `If I only knew,' she thought to
herself, 'which was neck and which was waist!'

  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.

  `It is a -- MOST -- PROVOKING -- thing,' he said at last, `when a person
doesn't know a cravat from a belt!'

  `I know it's very ignorant of me,' Alice said, in so humble a tone that
Humpty Dumpty relented.

  `It's a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say.  It's a present
from the White King and Queen.  There now!'

  `Is it really?' said Alice, quite pleased to find that she HAD chosen a
good subject, after all.

  `They gave it me,' Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully, as he crossed
one knee over the other and clasped his hands round it, `they gave it me
-- for an un-birthday present.'

  `I beg your pardon?' Alice said with a puzzled air.

  `I'm not offended,' said Humpty Dumpty.

  `I mean, what IS an un-birthday present?'

  `A present given when it isn't your birthday, of course.'

  Alice considered a little.  `I like birthday presents best,' she said at
last.

  `You don't know what you're talking about!' cried Humpty Dumpty.  `How
many days are there in a year?'

  `Three hundred and sixty-five,' said Alice.

  `And how many birthdays have you?'

  `One.'

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

  `Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.'

  Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful.  `I'd rather see that done on paper,' he
said.

  Alice couldn't help smiling as she took out her memorandum- book, and
worked the sum for him:


                               365
                                 1
                               ___

                               364
                               ___

  Humpty Dumpty took the book, and looked at it carefully.  `That seems to
be done right -- ' he began.

  `You're holding it upside down!' Alice interrupted.

  `To be sure I was!' Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round for
him.  `I thought it looked a little queer.  As I was saying, that SEEMS to
be done right -- though I haven't time to look it over thoroughly just now
-- and that shows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days when
you might get un-birthday presents -- '

  `Certainly,' said Alice.

  `And only ONE for birthday presents, you know.  There's glory for you!'

  `I don't know what you mean by "glory,"' Alice said.

  Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously.  `Of course you don't -- till I
tell you.  I meant "there's a nice knock-down argument for you!"'

  `But "glory" doesn't mean "a nice knock-down argument,"' Alice objected.

  `When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, `it
means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.'

  `The question is,' said Alice, `whether you CAN make words mean so many
different things.'

  `The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, `which is to be master - - that's
all.'

  Alice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty
Dumpty began again.  `They've a temper, some of them -- particularly
verbs, they're the proudest -- adjectives you can do anything with, but
not verbs -- however, _I_ can manage the whole of them!  Impenetrability!  
That's what _I_ say!'

  `Would you tell me, please,' said Alice `what that means?`

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

  `That's a great deal to make one word mean,' Alice said in a thoughtful
tone.

  `When I make a word do a lot of work like that,' said Humpty Dumpty, `I
always pay it extra.'

  `Oh!' said Alice.  She was too much puzzled to make any other remark.

  `Ah, you should see `em come round me of a Saturday night,' Humpty
Dumpty went on, wagging his head gravely from side to side:  `for to get
their wages, you know.'

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

  `You seem very clever at explaining words, Sir,' said Alice. `Would you
kindly tell me the meaning of the poem called "Jabberwocky"?'

  `Let's hear it,' said Humpty Dumpty.  `I can explain all the poems that
were ever invented -- and a good many that haven't been invented just
yet.'

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

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

  `That's enough to begin with,' Humpty Dumpty interrupted: `there are
plenty of hard words there.  "BRILLIG" means four o'clock in the afternoon
-- the time when you begin BROILING things for dinner.'

  `That'll do very well,' said Alice:  and "SLITHY"?'

  `Well, "SLITHY" means "lithe and slimy."  "Lithe" is the same as
"active."  You see it's like a portmanteau -- there are two meanings
packed up into one word.'

  `I see it now,' Alice remarked thoughtfully:  `and what are "TOVES"?'

  `Well, "TOVES' are something like badgers -- they're something like
lizards -- and they're something like corkscrews.'

  `They must be very curious looking creatures.'

  `They are that,' said Humpty Dumpty:  `also they make their nests under
sun-dials -- also they live on cheese.'

  `Andy what's the "GYRE" and to "GIMBLE"?'

  `To "GYRE" is to go round and round like a gyroscope.  To "GIMBLE" is to
make holes like a gimblet.'

  `And "THE WABE" is the grass-plot round a sun-dial, I suppose?' said
Alice, surprised at her own ingenuity.

  `Of course it is.  It's called "WABE," you know, because it goes a long
way before it, and a long way behind it -- '

  `And a long way beyond it on each side,' Alice added.

  `Exactly so.  Well, then, "MIMSY" is "flimsy and miserable" (there's
another portmanteau for you).  And a "BOROGOVE" is a thing shabby-looking
bird with its feathers sticking out all round -- something like a live
mop.'

  `And then "MOME RATHS"?' said Alice.  `I'm afraid I'm giving you a great
deal of trouble.'

  `Well, a "RATH" is a sort of green pig:  but "MOME" I'm not certain
about.  I think it's short for "from home" -- meaning that they'd lost
their way, you know.'

  `And what does "OUTGRABE" mean?'

  `Well, "OUTGRIBING" is something between bellowing and whistling, with a
kind of sneeze in the middle:  however, you'll hear it done, maybe -- down
in the wood yonder -- and when you've once heard it you'll be QUITE
content.  Who's been repeating all that hard stuff to you?'

  `I read it in a book,' said Alice.  `But I had some poetry repeated to
me, much easier than that, by -- Tweedledee, I think it was.'

  `As to poetry, you know,' said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his
great hands, `I can repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes to
that -- '

  `Oh, it needn't come to that!' Alice hastily said, hoping to keep him
from beginning.


                                   * * *

  `I see nobody on the road,' said Alice.

  `I only wish I had such eyes,' the King remarked in a fretful tone. `To
be able to see Nobody!  And at that distance, too! Why, it's as much as I
can do to see real people, by this light!'

  All this was lost on Alice, who was still looking intently along the
road, shading her eyes with one hand.  `I see somebody now!' she exclaimed
at last.  `But he's coming very slowly -- and what curious attitudes he
goes into!' (For 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.)

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

  `I love my love with an H,' Alice couldn't help beginning,' because he
is Happy.  I hate him with an H, because he is Hideous.  I fed him with --
with -- with Ham-sandwiches and Hay. His name is Haigha, and he lives -- '

  `He lives on the Hill,' 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.  `The other Messenger's called Hatta.  I
must have TWO, you know -- to come and go.  Once to come, and one to go.'

  `I beg your pardon?' said Alice.

  `It isn't respectable to beg,' said the King.

  `I only meant that I didn't understand,' said Alice.  `Why one to come
and one to go?'

  `Don't I tell you?' the King repeated impatiently.  `I must have Two --
to fetch and carry.  One to fetch, and one to carry.'

  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.

  `This young lady loves you with an H,' the King said, introducing Alice
in the hope of turning off the Messenger's attention from himself -- but
it was no use -- the Anglo-Saxon attitudes only got more extraordinary
every moment, while the great eyes rolled wildly from side to side.

  `You alarm me!' said the King.  `I feel faint -- Give me a ham
sandwich!'

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

  `Another sandwich!' said the King.

  `There's nothing but hay left now,' the Messenger said, peeping into the
bag.

  `Hay, then,' the King murmured in a faint whisper.

  Alice was glad to see that it revived him a good deal. `There's nothing
like eating hay when you're faint,' he remarked to her, as he munched
away.

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

  `I didn't say there was nothing BETTER,' the King replied.  `I said
there was nothing LIKE it.' Which Alice did not venture to deny.

  `Who did you pass on the road?' the King went on, holding out his hand
to the Messenger for some more hay.

  `Nobody,' said the Messenger.

  `Quite right,' said the King:  `this young lady saw him too. So of
course Nobody walks slower than you.

  `I do my best,' the Messenger said in a sulky tone.  `I'm sure nobody
walks much faster than I do!'

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

  `I'll whisper it,' said the Messenger, putting his hands to his mouth in
the shape of a trumpet, and stooping so as to get close to the King's 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 `They're
at it again!'

  `Do you call THAT a whisper?' cried the poor King, jumping up and
shaking himself.  `If you do such a thing again, I'll have you buttered!  
It went through and through my head like an earthquake!'

  `It would have to be a very tiny earthquake!' thought Alice. `Who are at
it again?' she ventured to ask.

  `Why the Lion and the Unicorn, of course,' said the King.

  `Fighting for the crown?'

  `Yes, to be sure,' said the King:  `and the best of the joke is, that
it's MY crown all the while!  Let's run and see them.' And they trotted
off, Alice repeating to herself, as she ran, the words of the old song: --

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

  `Does -- the one -- that wins -- get the crown?' she asked, as well as
she could, for the run was putting her quite out of breath.

  `Dear me, no!' said the King.  `What an idea!'

  `Would you -- be good enough,' Alice panted out, after running a little
further, `to stop a minute -- just to get -- one's breath again?'

  `I'm GOOD enough,' the King said, `only I'm not strong enough. You see,
a minute goes by so fearfully quick.  You might as well try to stop a
Bandersnatch!'


                                   * * *

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

  `But the things can get OUT,' Alice gently remarked.  `Do you know the
lid's open?'

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

  Alice shook her head.

  `In hopes some bees my make a nest in it -- then I should get the
honey.'

  `But you've got a bee-hive -- or something like one -- fastened to the
saddle,' said Alice.

  `Yes, it's a very good bee-hive,' the Knight said in a discontented
tone, `one 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 out
-- or the bees keep the mice out, I don't know which.'

  `I was wondering what the mouse-trap was for,' said Alice.  `It isn't
very likely there would be any mice on the horse's back.'

  `Not very likely, perhaps,' said the Knight:  `but if they DO come, I
don't choose to have them running all about.'

  `You see,' he went on after a pause, `it's as well to be provided for
EVERYTHING.  That's the reason the horse has all those anklets round his
feet.'

  `But what are they for?' Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.

  `To guard against the bites of sharks,' the Knight replied. `It's an
invention of my own.  And now help me on.  I'll go with you to the end of
the wood -- What's the dish for?'

  `It's meant for plum-cake,' said Alice.

  `We'd better take it with us, the Knight said.  `It'll some in handy if
we find any plum-cake.  Help me to get it into this bag.'

  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.  `It's rather a tight fit, you see,' he said, as they got it in a
last; `There are so many candlesticks in the bag.' And he hung it to the
saddle, which was already loaded with bunches of carrots, and fire-irons,
and many other things.

  `I hope you've got your hair well fastened on?' he continued, as they
set off.

  `Only in the usual way,' Alice said, smiling.

  `That's hardly enough,' he said, anxiously.  `You see the wind is so
VERY strong here.  It's as strong as soup.'

  `Have you invented a plan for keeping the hair from being blown off?'
Alice enquired.

  `Not yet,' said the Knight.  `But I've got a plan for keeping it from
FALLING off.'

  `I should like to hear it, very much.'

  `First you take an upright stick,' said the Knight.  `Then you make your
hair creep up it, like a fruit-tree.  Now the reason hair falls off is
because it hangs DOWN -- things never fall UPWARDS, you know.  It's a plan
of my own invention.  You may try it if you like.

  It didn't 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.

  `I'm afraid you've not had much practice in riding,' 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.  `What makes you say that?' he asked, as he scrambled back into
the saddle, keeping hold of Alice's hair with one hand, to save himself
from falling over on the other side.

  `Because people don't fall off quite so often, when they've had much
practice.'

  `I've had plenty of practice,' the Knight said very gravely: `plenty of
practice!'

  Alice could think of nothing better to say than `Indeed?' 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.

  `The great art of riding,' the Knight suddenly began in a loud voice,
waving his right arm as he spoke, `is to keep -- ' 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 were Alice was walking.  She was quite frightened
this time, and said in an anxious tone, as she picked him up, `I hope no
bones are broken?'

  `None to speak of,' the Knight said, as if he didn't mind breaking two
or three of them.  `The great art of riding, as I was saying, is -- to
keep your balance properly.  Like this, you know -- '

  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 horse's
feet.

  `Plenty of practice?' he went on repeating, all the time that Alice was
getting him on his feet again.  `Plenty of practice!'

  `It's too ridiculous!' cried Alice, losing all her patience this time.  
`You ought to have a wooden horse on wheels, that you ought!'

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

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

  `I'll get one,' the Knight said thoughtfully to himself.  `One or two --
several.'

  There was a short silence after this, and then the Knight went on again.  
`I'm a great hand at inventing things.  Now, I daresay you noticed, that
last time you picked me up, that I was looking rather thoughtful?'

  `You WERE a little grave,' said Alice.

  `Well, just then I was inventing a new way of getting over a gate --
would you like to hear it?'

  `Very much indeed,' Alice said politely.

  `I'll tell you how I came to think of it,' said the Knight. `You see, I
said to myself, "The only difficulty is with the feet:  the HEAD is high
enough already."  Now, first I put my head on the top of the gate -- then
I stand on my head -- then the feet are high enough, you see -- then I'm
over, you see.'

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

  `I haven't tried it yet,' the Knight said, gravely:  `so I can't tell
for certain -- but I'm afraid it WOULD be a little hard.'

  He looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the subject hastily.  
`What a curious helmet you've got!' she said cheerfully.  `Is that your
invention too?'

  The Knight looked down proudly at his helmet, which hung from the
saddle.  `Yes,' he said, `but I've invented a better one than that -- like
a sugar loaf.  When I used to wear it, if I fell of the horse, it always
touched the ground directly.  So I had a VERY little way to fall, you see
-- But there WAS the danger of falling INTO it, to be sure.  THat happened
to me once -- and 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.'

  The knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did not dare to laugh.  
`I'm afraid you must have hurt him,' she said in a trembling voice, `being
on the top of his head.'

  `I had to kick him, of course,' the Knight said, very seriously.  `And
then he took the helmet off again -- but it took hours and hours to get me
out.  I was as fast as -- as lightning, you know.'

  `But that's a different kind of fastness,' Alice objected.

  The Knight shook his head.  `It was all kinds of fastness with me, I can
assure you!' 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.  `All kinds of fastness,' he
repeated:  `but it was careless of him to put another man's helmet on --
with the man in it, too.'

  `How CAN you go on talking so quietly, head downwards?' 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.  `What does it matter where
my body happens to be?' he said.  `My mind goes on working all the same.  
In fact, the more head downwards I am, the more I keep inventing new
things.'

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

  `In time to have it cooked for the next course?' said Alice. `Well, not
the NEXT course,' the Knight said in a slow thoughtful tone:  `no,
certainly not the next COURSE.'

  `Then it would have to be the next day.  I suppose you wouldn't have two
pudding-courses in one dinner?'

  `Well, not the NEXT day,' the Knight repeated as before:  `not the next
DAY.  In fact,' he went on, holding his head down, and his voice getting
lower and lower, `I don't believe that pudding ever WAS cooked!  In fact,
I don't believe that pudding ever WILL be cooked!  And yet it was a very
clever pudding to invent.'

  `What did you mean it to be made of?' Alice asked, hoping to cheer him
up, for the poor Knight seemed quite low-spirited about it.

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

  `That wouldn't be very nice, I'm afraid -- '

  `Not very nice ALONE,' he interrupted, quite eagerly:  `but you've no
idea what a difference it makes mixing it with other things -- such as
gunpowder and sealing-wax.  And here I must leave you.' They had just come
to the end of the wood.

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

  `You are sad,' the Knight said in an anxious tone:  `let me sing you a
song to comfort you.'

  `Is it very long?' Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry
that day.

  `It's long,' said the Knight, `but very, VERY beautiful. Everybody that
hears me sing it -- either it brings the TEARS into their eyes, or else --
'

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

  `Or else it doesn't, you know.  The name of the song is called
"HADDOCKS' EYES."'

  `Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?' Alice said, trying to feel
interested.

  `No, you don't understand,' the Knight said, looking a little vexed.  
`That's what the name is CALLED.  The name really IS "THE AGED AGED MAN."'

  `Then I ought to have said "That's what the SONG is called"?' Alice
corrected herself.

  `No, you oughtn't:  that's quite another thing!  The SONG is called
"WAYS AND MEANS":  but that's only what it's CALLED, you know!'

  `Well, what IS the song, then?' said Alice, who was by this time
completely bewildered.

  `I was coming to that,' the Knight said.  `The song really IS "A-SITTING
ON A GATE":  and the tune's my own invention.'

  So saying, he stopped his horse and let the reins fall on its neck:  
then, slowly beating time with one hand, and with a faint smile lighting
up 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 yesterday -- the mild blue eyes and kindly smile of the Knight
-- the setting sun gleaming through his hair, and shining on his armour in
a blaze of light that quite dazzled her -- the horse quietly moving about,
with the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the grass at her feet
-- and the black shadows of the forest behind -- all this she took in like
a picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes, she leant against a green,
watching the strange pair, and listening, in a half dream, to the
melancholy music of the song.

  `But the tune ISN'T his own invention,' she said to herself: `it's "I
GIVE THEE ALL, I CAN NO MORE."' She stood and listened very attentively,
but no tears came into her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            And now, if e'er by chance I put
              My fingers into glue
            Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
              Into a left-hand shoe,
            Or if I drop upon my toe
              A very heavy weight,
            I weep, for it reminds me so,
              Of that old man I used to know --

            Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
            Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
            Whose face was very like a crow,
            With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
            Who seemed distracted with his woe,
            Who rocked his body to and fro,
            And muttered mumblingly and low,
            As if his mouth were full of dough,
            Who snorted like a buffalo --
            That summer evening, long ago,
              A-sitting on a gate.'
          
          
  As the Knight sang the last words of the ballad, he gathered up the
reins, and turned his horse's head along the road by which they had come.  
`You've only a few yards to go,' he said,' down the hill and over that
little brook, and then you'll be a Queen - -But you'll stay and see me off
first?' he added as Alice turned with an eager look in the direction to
which he pointed.  `I shan't be long.  You'll wait and wave your
handkerchief when I get to that turn in the road?  I think it'll encourage
me, you see.'

                                   * * *

  The Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, `I invite
you to Alice's dinner-party this afternoon.'

  The White Queen smiled feebly, and said `And I invite YOU.'

  `I didn't know I was to have a party at all,' said Alice; `but if there
is to be one, I think _I_ ought to invite the guests.'

  `We gave you the opportunity of doing it,' the Red Queen remarked:  
`but I daresay you've not had many lessons in manners yet?'

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

  `And you do Addition?' the White Queen asked.  `What's one and one and
one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?'

  `I don't know,' said Alice.  `I lost count.'

  `She can't do Addition,' the Red Queen interrupted.  `Can you do
Subtraction?  Take nine from eight.'

  `Nine from eight I can't, you know,' Alice replied very readily:  `but
-- '

  `She can't do Subtraction,' said the White Queen.  `Can you do Division?  
Divide a loaf by a knife -- what's the answer to that?'

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

  Alice considered.  `The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took it --
and the dog wouldn't remain; it would come to bite me -- and I'm sure I
shouldn't remain!'

  `Then you think nothing would remain?' said the Red Queen.

  `I think that's the answer.'

  `Wrong, as usual,' said the Red Queen:  `the dog's temper would remain.'

  `But I don't see how -- '

  `Why, look here!' the Red Queen cried.  `The dog would lose its temper,
wouldn't it?'

  `Perhaps it would,' Alice replied cautiously.

  `Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!' the Queen
exclaimed triumphantly.

  Alice said, as gravely as she could, `They might go different ways.' But
she couldn't help thinking to herself, `What dreadful nonsense we ARE
talking!'

  `She can't do sums a BIT!' the Queens said together, with great
emphasis.

  `Can YOU do sums?' Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen, for
she didn't like being found fault with so much.

  The Queen gasped and shut her eyes.  `I can do Addition,' `if you give
me time -- but I can do Subtraction, under ANY circumstances!'

  `Of course you know your A B C?' said the Red Queen.

  `To be sure I do.' said Alice.

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

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

  `I know THAT!' Alice cried eagerly.  `You take some flour -- '

  `Where do you pick the flower?' the White Queen asked.  `In a garden, or
in the hedges?'

  `Well, it isn't PICKED at all,' Alice explained:  `it's GROUND -- '

  `How many acres of ground?' said the White Queen.  `You mustn't leave
out so many things.'

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

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

  `Fiddle-de-dee's not English,' Alice replied gravely.

  `Who ever said it was?' said the Red Queen.

  Alice thought she saw a way out of the difficulty this time. `If you'll
tell me what language "fiddle-de-dee" is, I'll tell you the French for
it!' she exclaimed triumphantly.

  But the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said `Queens never
make bargains.'

  `I wish Queens never asked questions,' Alice thought to herself.

  `Don't let us quarrel,' the White Queen said in an anxious tone.  `What
is the cause of lightning?'

  `The cause of lightning,' Alice said very decidedly, for she felt quite
certain about this, `is the thunder -- no, no!' she hastily corrected
herself.  `I meant the other way.'

  `It's too late to correct it,' said the Red Queen:  `when you've once
said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences.'

                                   * * *