uld talk on such a subject! Our family always _hated_
cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don't let me hear the name again!"

[Illustration: _The Pool of Tears_]

"I won't indeed!" said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of
conversation. "Are you--are you fond--of--of dogs?" The Mouse did not
answer, so Alice went on eagerly: "There is such a nice little dog near
our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed terrier, you
know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it'll fetch things
when you throw them, and it'll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all
sorts of things--I can't remember half of them--and it belongs to a
farmer, you know, and he says it's so useful, it's worth a hundred
pounds! He says it kills all the rats and--oh dear!" cried Alice in a
sorrowful tone, "I'm afraid I've offended it again!" For the Mouse was
swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a
commotion in the pool as it went.

So she called softly after it, "Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we
won't talk about cats or dogs either, if you don't like them!"

When the Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her:
its face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a
low trembling voice, "Let us get to the shore, and then I'll tell you my
history, and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs."

It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the
birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo,
a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the
way, and the whole party swam to the shore.

CHAPTER III

[Sidenote: _A Caucus-race and a Long Tale_]

THEY were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on
the bank--the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur
clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable.

The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a
consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural
to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had
known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the
Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, "I am older than
you, and must know better;" and this Alice would not allow without
knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its
age, there was no more to be said.

At last the Mouse, who