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OF TEARS. 25 of a mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—O mouse!” . The Mouse looked at her rather inguisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little _eyes, but it said nothing. “Perhaps it doesn’t understand English,” thought Alice; “I daresay it’s a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.” (For, with all her knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything had happened.) So she began again: “Ou est ma chatte?” which was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. “Oh, I beg your pardon!” eried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal’s feelings. “I quite forgot you didn’t like cats.” “Not like cats!” cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. “ Would yow like cats if you Were me?” “Well, perhaps not,” said Alice in a soothing tone: “don't be angry about it. And yet E
