stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put down the bottle,

saying to herself “That’s quite enough—I hope I shan’t

grow any more—As it is, I can’t get out at the door—I do wish

I hadn’t drunk quite so much!”


Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, and very

soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room

for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the

door, and the other arm curled round her head. Still she went on growing, and,

as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window, and one foot up the

chimney, and said to herself “Now I can do no more, whatever happens.

What will become of me?”


Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and she

grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to be no

sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, no wonder she felt

unhappy.


“It was much pleasanter at home,” thought poor Alice, “when

one wasn’t always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by

mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that

rabbit-hole—and yet—and yet—it’s rather curious, you

know, this sort of life! I do wonder what can have happened to me! When

I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and

now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me,

that there ought! And when I grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m

grown up now,” she added in a sorrowful tone; “at least

there’s no room to grow up any more here.”


“But then,” thought Alice, “shall I never get any

older than I am now? That’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an

old woman—but then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I

shouldn’t like that!”


“Oh, you foolish Alice!” she answered herself. “How can you

learn lessons in here? Why, there’s hardly room for you, and no

room at all for any lesson-books!”