Chapter V

Advice from a Caterpillar

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a sleepy voice.

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I changed several times.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar sternly. “Explain!”

“I can’t, I’m afraid,” said Alice very politely. “I—”

“You!” said the Caterpillar contemptuously. “Who are YOU?”

It brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation.

Alice thought that the Caterpillar was in a very unpleasant state of mind, and she turned away.

“Come back!” the Caterpillar demanded. “I want to tell you something important!”

Alice turned and came back again.

“Keep your temper,” said the Caterpillar.

“Is that all?” asked Alice.

“No,” said the Caterpillar.

Alice was waiting.

“So you think you changed, do you?” said the Caterpillar.

“I’m afraid I am,” said Alice; “I can’t remember some things.”

“What things can’t you remember?” asked the Caterpillar.

“Some verses, for example,” Alice replied in a very melancholy voice.

“Repeat, ‘You Are Old, Father William,’” said the Caterpillar.

Alice folded her hands, and began to recite the poem:

 

“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,

…

 

“That is wrong,” said the Caterpillar.

“Maybe, not quite right, I’m afraid,” said Alice, timidly.

“It is wrong from beginning to end,” said the Caterpillar decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes.

“What size do you want to be?” asked the Caterpillar.

“You know—” Alice began.

“I DON’T know,” said the Caterpillar.

Alice said nothing; she felt that she was losing her temper.

“Are you content now?” said the Caterpillar.

“Well, I want to be a little larger,” said Alice: “three inches is such a wretched height to be.”

“It is a very good height indeed!” said the Caterpillar angrily (it was exactly three inches high); and it put the hookah into its mouth and began to smoke again.

This time Alice waited patiently until the Caterpillar spoke again. In a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away in the grass. And it remarked, “One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.”

“One side of what? The other side of what?” thought Alice to herself.

“Of the mushroom,” said the Caterpillar.

The mushroom was perfectly round, so Alice found this a very difficult question. However, at last she decided to eat a bit of the mushroom. The next moment her chin hit her foot!

She was frightened by this change; so she ate some of the other bit. Finally, she was near the right size. She went forward and saw a little house about four feet high. She ate a bit of the mushroom again and became nine inches high.

“This is the right size to enter the house,” said Alice

Chapter VI

Pig and Pepper

For a minute or two she stood near the house. She was wondering what to do next, when suddenly a servant—a fish—came out of the wood and knocked loudly at the door. Another servant with a round face, and large eyes like a frog opened the door.

The Fish-Servant said, in a solemn tone, “For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet.”

The Frog-Servant repeated, in the same solemn tone, “From the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.”

Then the Fish-Servant ran away. Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked.

“Why do you knock?” asked the Frog, “I’m on the same side of the door as you are. And they’re making such a noise inside, no one can possibly hear you.”

And certainly there was a most extraordinary noise within.

“Please, then,” said Alice, “how to get in?”

“Are you sure you want to get in?” said the Frog. “That’s the first question, you know.”

“It’s really dreadful,” Alice muttered to herself, “they like to argue, these animals!”

The Frog said, “I shall sit here, for days and days.”

“But what am I to do?” said Alice.

“Anything you like,” said the Servant, and began to whistle.

“Oh, he’s idiotic!” said Alice desperately. And she opened the door and went in.

The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other. The Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, she was nursing a baby. The cook was leaning over the fire, there was a large cauldron full of soup.

“There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!” Alice said to herself, and began to sneeze.

Even the Duchess sneezed occasionally; and the baby was sneezing and howling all the time. Only the cook and a large cat did not sneeze. The cat was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.

“Please can you tell me,” said Alice timidly, “why does your cat grin?”

“It’s a Cheshire cat,” said the Duchess, “and that’s why. Pig!”

She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice jumped. But she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, and not to her. So she took courage, and went on again:

“I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn’t know that cats could grin.”

“They all can,” said the Duchess, “and most of them do.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Alice said very politely.

“You don’t know much,” said the Duchess; “and that’s a fact.”

Alice did not like the tone of this remark. Meanwhile the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and began to throw everything at the Duchess and the baby—saucepans, plates, and dishes.

“Oh, please, don’t do it!” cried Alice in terror. “Oh, his precious nose!”

“Mind your own business,” the Duchess said in a hoarse growl. “Oh, don’t bother me! Here! You may nurse it a bit, if you like!” the Duchess said to Alice, and threw the baby at her. “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 out.

Alice caught the baby with some difficulty. She carried it out into the open air.

“If I don’t take this child away with me,” thought Alice, “they will kill it in a day or two: it is murder to leave it there.”

She said the last words out loud, and the baby grunted in reply.

“Don’t grunt,” said Alice, “that’s impolite.”

The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face. The baby sobbed (or grunted, it was impossible to say which), and they went on in silence.

“Now, what shall I do with the baby when I get it home?” said Alice when it grunted again. She looked down into its face. No mistake about it: it was a pig, and it was quite absurd for her to carry it further.

So she set the little pig down, and it trotted away quietly into the wood.

“It is a dreadfully ugly child,” she said to herself, “but it is a handsome pig, I think.”

And she began to remember the children she knew, who might be good pigs.

“But how to change them?”

Suddenly she saw the Cheshire Cat. The Cat was sitting on a bough of a tree. The Cat grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she thought: but it had very long claws and many teeth.

“Cheshire Cat,” she began, rather timidly, and the Cat only grinned a little wider. “Can you tell me, please, where to go?”

“That depends on where you want to go,” said the Cat.

“I don’t care where,” said Alice.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.

“I want to get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.

“Oh, you will do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Alice tried another question.

“What people live here?”

“In this direction,” the Cat said, “lives a Hatter: and in that direction, lives a March Hare. Visit them: they’re both mad.”

“But I don’t want to see mad people,” Alice remarked.

“Oh, we’re all mad here,” said the Cat. “I’m mad. You’re mad.”

“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.

“You must be,” said the Cat, “you are here.”

“And how do you know that you’re mad?” she went on.

“A dog is not mad,” said the Cat, “Do you believe 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. Do you play croquet with the Queen today?”

“With pleasure,” said Alice, “but I do not have an invitation.”

“You’ll see me there,” said the Cat, and vanished.

Alice was not much surprised at this. While she was looking at the place where the cat was, it suddenly appeared again.

“And what became of the baby?” said the Cat. “I forgot to ask.”

“It turned into a pig,” Alice quietly said.

“Of course,” said the Cat, and vanished again.

Alice waited a little, but the Cat did not appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the March Hare lived.

“I saw hatters,” she said to herself; “the March Hare is more interesting.”

As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat again. It was sitting on a branch of a tree.

“Did you say pig, or fig?” said the Cat.

“I said pig,” replied Alice; “can you appear and vanish not so fast, please?”

“All right,” said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly. It began with the end of the tail, and ended with the grin. Its grin remained some time.

“Well! I saw a cat without a grin,” thought Alice; “but a grin without a cat! How curious!”

She went farther and she saw the house of the March Hare. The chimneys were like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It was a large house, and she ate a bit of the mushroom, and raised herself to about two feet high.