CHAPTER I. Down the Rabbit-Hole

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the
bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into
the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or
conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice
“without pictures or conversations?”

So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the
hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of
making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and
picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran
close by her.

There was nothing so _very_ remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it
so _very_ much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, “Oh
dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!” (when she thought it over afterwards,
it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the
time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually _took a
watch out of its waistcoat-pocket_, and looked at it, and then hurried
on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she
had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a
watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the
field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a
large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how
in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then
dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think
about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very
deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had
plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what
was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out
what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she
looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with
cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures
hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she
passed; it was labelled “ORANGE MARMALADE”, but to her great
disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear
of killing somebody underneath, so managed to put it into one of the
cupboards as she fell past it.

“Well!” thought Alice to herself, “after such a fall as this, I shall
think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me
at home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the
top of the house!” (Which was very likely true.)

Down, down, down. Would the fall _never_ come to an end? “I wonder how
many miles I’ve fallen by this time?” she said aloud. “I must be
getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would
be four thousand miles down, I think—” (for, you see, Alice had learnt
several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and
though this was not a _very_ good opportunity for showing off her
knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good
practice to say it over) “—yes, that’s about the right distance—but
then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?” (Alice had no
idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice
grand words to say.)

Presently she began again. “I wonder if I shall fall right _through_
the earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk
with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—” (she was rather
glad there _was_ no one listening, this time, as it didn’t sound at all
the right word) “—but I shall have to ask them what the name of the
country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?”
(and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy _curtseying_ as you’re
falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) “And what
an ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do
to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.”

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began
talking again. “Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!”
(Dinah was the cat.) “I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at
tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are
no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s
very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?” And here
Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a
dreamy sort of way, “Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?” and
sometimes, “Do bats eat cats?” for, you see, as she couldn’t answer
either question, it didn’t much matter which way she put it. She felt
that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was
walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly,
“Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?” when suddenly,
thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and
the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment:
she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another
long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down
it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind,
and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, “Oh my ears
and whiskers, how late it’s getting!” She was close behind it when she
turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found
herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging
from the roof.

There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when
Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every
door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to
get out again.

Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid
glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s
first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall;
but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small,
but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second
time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and
behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the
little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!

Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not
much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the
passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get
out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright
flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head
through the doorway; “and even if my head would go through,” thought
poor Alice, “it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh,
how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only
knew how to begin.” For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had
happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things
indeed were really impossible.

There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went
back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at
any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this
time she found a little bottle on it, (“which certainly was not here
before,” said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper
label, with the words “DRINK ME,” beautifully printed on it in large
letters.

It was all very well to say “Drink me,” but the wise little Alice was
not going to do _that_ in a hurry. “No, I’ll look first,” she said,
“and see whether it’s marked ‘_poison_’ or not”; for she had read
several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and
eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they
_would_ not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them:
such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long;
and that if you cut your finger _very_ deeply with a knife, it usually
bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a
bottle marked “poison,” it is almost certain to disagree with you,
sooner or later.

However, this bottle was _not_ marked “poison,” so Alice ventured to
taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed
flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and
hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.

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“What a curious feeling!” said Alice; “I must be shutting up like a
telescope.”

And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face
brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going
through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she
waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further:
she felt a little nervous about this; “for it might end, you know,”
said Alice to herself, “in my going out altogether, like a candle. I
wonder what I should be like then?” And she tried to fancy what the
flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could
not remember ever having seen such a thing.

After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going
into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the
door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she
went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach
it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her
best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery;
and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing
sat down and cried.

“Come, there’s no use in crying like that!” said Alice to herself,
rather sharply; “I advise you to leave off this minute!” She generally
gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it),
and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into
her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having
cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself,
for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people.
“But it’s no use now,” thought poor Alice, “to pretend to be two
people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make _one_ respectable
person!”

Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table:
she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words
“EAT ME” were beautifully marked in currants. “Well, I’ll eat it,” said
Alice, “and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it
makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll
get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!”

She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, “Which way? Which
way?”, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was
growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same
size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice
had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way
things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go
on in the common way.

So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.

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