Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale

The dripping, draggled company huddled on the bank. The Mouse, evidently a person of authority, seated itself in the middle of a circle and announced it would soon dry them all with the driest thing it knew—a history of England. It began solemnly with William the Conqueror, but the Lory shivered, the Duck interrupted with questions about what the archbishop had found, and the Eaglet finally demanded plain English. The Dodo thereupon rose to propose a Caucus-race as a more energetic remedy.

The Dodo marked out a sort of circular course, and the party ran when they liked and stopped when they liked, so that no one could tell when the race had ended. After half an hour, when everyone was dry, the Dodo pressed a finger to its forehead in the manner of Shakespeare and pronounced that everybody had won and all must have prizes. Alice, at a loss, handed out her box of comfits, exactly one apiece, and received in return her own thimble, presented with ridiculous solemnity.

They begged the Mouse to continue, and Alice reminded it of the promised tale. “Mine is a long and a sad tale!” sighed the Mouse. Alice, puzzling over its tail, missed most of the verses, catching only fragments about a mouse called to trial by a cunning old Fury. “You are not attending!” snapped the Mouse, and when Alice offered absurdly to help undo a “knot” in the narrative, the creature took mortal offence and stalked away, refusing all coaxing. An old Crab used the moment to lecture its daughter about tempers. Lonely Alice mentioned her cat Dinah, who was a capital one for catching birds, and the entire company fled in panic, leaving her alone once more.

The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill

Soon the White Rabbit came trotting back, muttering about the Duchess and searching for his dropped gloves and fan. Mistaking Alice for his housemaid Mary Ann, he ordered her to fetch them at once. Too frightened to explain, Alice ran obediently to a neat little house bearing a brass plate engraved “W. RABBIT.” Inside, she found a tidy room with the gloves and fan on the table, and beside them an unlabeled little bottle. Knowing that interesting things always happened when she ate or drank, Alice drank—and grew. Her head pressed the ceiling, then she had to kneel, then lie down with one elbow against the door and her other arm curled round her head. One arm went out the window, one foot up the chimney, and still she filled the room.

The Rabbit came to fetch his Mary Ann, but the door would not open against her elbow. He tried the window, and Alice snatched at him, sending him tumbling into a cucumber-frame. He called for Pat, who appeared cheerfully digging for apples. From the chimney came Bill, sent down at the Rabbit’s orders, and Alice greeted him with a sharp kick that sent the poor lizard shooting up like a sky-rocket. The crowd outside debated burning the house down, and Alice threatened to set Dinah on them, producing instant horrified silence. They compromised on a barrowful of pebbles, which Alice discovered turned into little cakes as they struck the floor. Swallowing one, she shrank to a manageable size and bolted out of the door.

A great puppy with enormous eyes found her in a wood and tried to play, leaping at the stick Alice offered. She dodged behind a thistle while the creature tumbled and barked itself tired. At last she ran free, leaning against a buttercup to catch her breath, fretting again about how to grow back to her proper size.

The answer, when she looked up on tiptoe, was a large mushroom the same height as herself. And there, on top of it, sat a great blue caterpillar, its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.