but when you
have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then
after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little
queer, won't you?"

"Not a bit," said the Caterpillar.

"Well, perhaps your feelings may be different," said Alice; "all I know
is, it would feel very queer to _me_."

"You!" said the Caterpillar contemptuously. "Who are _you_?"

Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation.
Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such _very_
short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, "I think
you ought to tell me who _you_ are, first."

"Why?" said the Caterpillar.

[Illustration: _Advice from a Caterpillar_]

Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any
good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_
unpleasant state of mind, she turned away.

"Come back!" the Caterpillar called after her. "I've something important
to say!"

This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again.

"Keep your temper," said the Caterpillar.

"Is that all?" said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she
could.

"No," said the Caterpillar.

Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and
perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some
minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its
arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, "So you think
you're changed, do you?"

"I'm afraid I am, sir," said Alice; "I can't remember things as I
used--and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!"

"Can't remember _what_ things?" said the Caterpillar.

"Well, I've tried to say '_How doth the little busy bee_,' but it all
came different!" Alice replied in a very melancholy voice.

"Repeat '_You are old, Father William_,'" said the Caterpillar.

Alice folded her hands, and began:--

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And have grow