knowledge. “Just think of what work it would make with the day and
night! You see the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on
its axis——”
“Talking of axes,” said the Duchess, “chop off her head!”
Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant
to take the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and
seemed not to be listening, so she went on again: “Twenty-four
hours, I think; or is it twelve? I——”
“Oh, don’t bother me!” said the Duchess. “I never could abide
figures!” And with that she began nursing her child again, singing
a sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent
shake at the end of every line:—
 ? “Speak roughly to your little boy,
 ? And beat him when he sneezes:
 ? He only does it to annoy,
 ? Because he knows it teases.”
CHORUS
(in which the cook and the baby joined):—
 ? “Wow! Wow! Wow!”
While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept
tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing
howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words:—
 ?
 ? “I speak severely to my boy,
 ? I beat him when he sneezes;
 ? For he can thoroughly enjoy
 ? The pepper when he pleases!”
CHORUS
 ? “Wow! wow! wow!”
“Here! You may nurse it a bit, if you like!” the Duchess said to
Alice, flinging the baby at her as she spoke. “I must go and get
ready to play croquet with the Queen,” and she hurried out of the
room. The cook threw a frying-pan after her as she went, but it
just missed her.
Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a
queer-shaped little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all
directions, “just like a star-fish,” thought Alice. The poor little
thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept
doubling itself up and straightening itself out again, so that
altogether, for the first minute or two, it was as much as she
could do to hold it.
As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it (which
was to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold ofwas to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of
its right ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself),
she carried it out into the open air. “If I don’t take this child
away with me,” thought Alice, “they’re sure to kill it in a day or
two. Wouldn’t it be murder to leave it behind?” She said the last
words out loud, and the little thing grunted in reply (it had left
off sneezing by this time). “Don’t grunt,” said Alice; “that’s not
at all a proper way of expressing yourself.”
The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its
face to see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt
that it had a very turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real
nose: also its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby:
altogether Alice did not like the look of the thing at all. “But
perhaps it was only sobbing,” she thought, and looked into its eyes
again, to see if there were any tears.
No, there were no tears. “If you’re going to turn into a pig, my
dear,” said Alice, seriously, “I’ll have nothing more to do with
you. Mind now!” The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it
was impossible to say which), and they went on for some while in
silence.
Alice was just beginning to think to herself, “Now, what am I to
do with this creature, when I get it home?” when it grunted again,
so violently, that she looked down into its face in some alarm.
This time there could be no mistake about it: it was neither more
nor less than a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd for
her to carry it any further.
So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to
see it trot away quietly into the wood. “If it had grown up,” she
said to herself, “it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but
it makes rather a handsome pig, I think.” And she began thinking
over other children she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and
was just saying to herself “if one only knew the right way to
change them——” when she was a little startled by seeing thechange them——” when she was a little startled by seeing the
Cheshire-Cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off.
The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured,
she thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth,
so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect.
“Cheshire Puss,” she began, rather timidly, as she did not at
all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a
little wider. “Come, it’s pleased so far,” thought Alice, and she
went on. “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from
here?”
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the
Cat.
“I don’t much care where——” said Alice.
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.
“——so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an
explanation.
“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk
long enough.”
Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another
question. “What sort of people live about here?”
“In that direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round,
“lives a Hatter: and in that direction,” waving the other paw,
“lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.”
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you ca’n’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here.
I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come
here.”
Alice didn’t think that proved it at all: however, she went on:
“And how do you know that you’re mad?”
“To begin with,” said the Cat, “a dog’s not mad. You grant
that?”
“I suppose so,” said Alice.
“Well, then,” the Cat went on, “you see, a dog growls when it’s
angry, and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m
pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.”
“I call it purring, not growling,” said Alice.
“Call it what you like,” said the Cat. “Do you play croquet with
the Queen to-day?”
“I should like it very much,” said Alice, “but I haven’t been
invited yet.”