- 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 [band-aid] 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 "exactually," - 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!
The brooch had come undone as she spoke, and a sudden gust of wind
blew the Queen's 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. - I've got! - she cried in a triumphant tone. -
Now you shall see me pin it on again, all by myself!
- Then I hope your finger is better now? - Alice said very politely,
as she crossed the little brook after the Queen.

* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *

- Oh, much better! - cried the Queen, her voice rising to a squeak as
she went on. - Much be-etter! Be-etter! Be-e-e-etter! Be-e-ehh! - 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 couldn't make out
what had happened at all. Was she in a shop? And was that really - was 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 a
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.
- What is it you want to buy? - the Sheep said at last, looking up
for a moment from her knitting.
- I don't QUITE know yet, - Alice said, very gently. I should like to
look all round me first, if I might.
- You may look in front of you, and on both sides, if you like, said
the Sheep: - but you can't look ALL round you - unless you've got eyes at
the back of your head.
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 things - but 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.
- Things flow about so here! - 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. - And this one is the
most provoking of all - but I'll tell you what - she added, as a sudden
thought struck her, - I'll follow it up to the very top shelf of all.
It'll puzzle it to go through the ceiling, I expect!
But even this plan failed: the - thing - went through the ceiling as
quietly as possible, as if it were quite used to it.
- Are you a child or a teetotum? - the Sheep said, as she took up
another pair of needles. - You'll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning
round like that. - She was now working with fourteen pairs at once, and
Alice couldn't help looking at her in great astonishment.
- How CAN she knit with so many? - the puzzled child thought to
herself. - She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!
- Can you row? - the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting
needles as she spoke.
- Yes, a little - but not on land - and not with needles 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.
- Feather! - cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.
This didn't sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said
nothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the water,
she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and would
hardly come out again.
- Feather! Feather! - the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. -
You'll be catching a crab directly.
- A dear little crab! - thought Alice. - I should like that.
- Didn't you hear me say "Feather"? - the Sheep cried angrily, taking
up quite a bunch of needles.
- Indeed I did, - said Alice: - you've said it very often - and very
loud. Please, where ARE the crabs?
- In the water, of course! - said the Sheep, sticking some of the
needles into her hair, as her hands were full. - Feather, I say!
- WHY do you say "feather" so often? - Alice asked at last, rather
vexed. 'I'm not a bird!
- You are, - said the Sheet: - you're a little goose. 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.
- Oh, please! There are some scented rushes! - Alice cried in a
sudden transport of delight. - There really are - and SUCH beauties!
- You needn't say "please" to ME about - em - the Sheep said, without
looking up from her knitting: - I didn't put - em there, and I'm not going
to take - em away.
- No, but I meant - please, may we wait and pick some? - Alice
pleaded. - If you don't mind stopping the boat for a minute.
- How am _I_ to stop it? - said the Sheep. - If you leave off rowing,
it'll stop of itself.
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 off - and 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
water - while with bright eager eyes she caught at one bunch after another
of the darling scented rushes.
- I only hope the boat won't tipple over! - she said to herself. Oh,
WHAT a lovely one! Only I couldn't quite reach it. - And it certainly DID
seem a little provoking ( - almost as if it happened on purpose, she
thought) that, though she managed to pick plenty of beautiful rushes as
the boat glided by, there was always a more lovely one that she couldn't
reach.
- The prettiest are always further! - she said at last, with a sigh
at 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 than 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
while - and these, being dream-rushes, melted away almost like snow, as
they lay in heaps at her feet -but Alice hardly noticed this, there were
so many other curious things to think about.
They hadn't gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars got
fast in the water and WOULDN'T 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 - Oh, oh,
oh! - from poor Alice, it swept her straight off the seat, and down among
the heap of rushes.
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