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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Lewis Carroll, by Isa Bowman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Story of Lewis Carroll
+       Told for Young People by the Real Alice in Wonderland
+
+Author: Isa Bowman
+
+Release Date: April 29, 2011 [EBook #35990]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF LEWIS CARROLL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Miss Isa Bowman as Alice in "Alice in Wonderland"_]
+
+
+
+
+  THE STORY OF
+  LEWIS CARROLL
+
+  TOLD FOR YOUNG PEOPLE BY
+  THE REAL ALICE IN WONDERLAND
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN
+
+
+  WITH A DIARY AND NUMEROUS
+  FACSIMILE LETTERS WRITTEN TO
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN AND
+  OTHERS. ALSO MANY SKETCHES
+  AND PHOTOS BY LEWIS CARROLL
+  AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+  NEW YORK
+  E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
+  31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
+  1900
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1899
+  BY E. P. DUTTON & CO.
+
+
+  The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                              PAGE
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN (IN PHOTOGRAVURE)                 _Frontispiece_
+
+  LEWIS CARROLL'S ROOM IN OXFORD                                 9
+
+  C. L. DODGSON                                                 13
+
+  A CHINAMAN                                                    17
+
+  BEGGAR CHILDREN                                               35
+
+  ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON                                     59
+
+  LEWIS CARROLL'S HOUSE AT EASTBOURNE                           65
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN AND MISS BESSIE HATTON AS THE LITTLE
+  PRINCES IN THE TOWER                                          73
+
+  ISA BOWMAN AS DUKE OF YORK                                    77
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN AS "ALICE IN WONDERLAND" (IN PHOTOGRAVURE)    80
+
+  THE LITTLE PRINCES                                            83
+
+  "DOLLY VARDEN"                                                95
+
+  "A TURK"                                                     103
+
+  FACSIMILE OF A CHARADE                               108-109-110
+
+
+
+
+LEWIS CARROLL
+
+
+It seems to me a very difficult task to sit down at a desk and write
+"reminiscences" of a friend who has gone from us all.
+
+It is not easy to make an effort and to remember all the little personalia
+of some one one has loved very much, and by whom one has been loved. And
+yet it is in a measure one's duty to tell the world something of the inner
+life of a famous man; and Lewis Carroll was so wonderful a personality,
+and so good a man, that if my pen dragged ever so slowly, I feel that I
+can at least tell something of his life which is worthy the telling.
+
+Writing with the sense of his loss still heavy upon me, I must of
+necessity colour my account with sadness. I am not in the ordinary sense
+a biographer. I cannot set down a critical estimate, a cold, dispassionate
+summing-up of a man I loved; but I can write of a few things that happened
+when I was a little girl, and when he used to say to me that I was "_his_
+little girl."
+
+The gracious presence of Lewis Carroll is with us no longer. Never again
+will his hand hold mine, and I shall never hear his voice more in this
+world. Forever while I live that kindly influence will be gone from my
+life, and the "Friend of little Children" has left us.
+
+And yet in the full sorrow of it all I find some note of comfort. He was
+so good and sweet, so tender and kind, so certain that there was another
+and more beautiful life waiting for us, that I know, even as if I heard
+him telling it to me, that some time I shall meet him once more.
+
+In all the noise and excitement of London, amid all the distractions of a
+stage life, I know this, and his presence is often very near to me, and
+the kindly voice is often at my ear as it was in the old days.
+
+To have even known such a man as he was is an inestimable boon. To have
+been with him for so long as a child, to have known so intimately the man
+who above all others has understood childhood, is indeed a memory on which
+to look back with thanksgiving and with tears.
+
+Now that I am no longer "his little girl," now that he is dead and my life
+is so different from the quiet life he led, I can yet feel the old charm,
+I can still be glad that he has kissed me and that we were friends. Little
+girl and grave professor! it is a strange combination. Grave professor and
+little girl! how curious it sounds! yet strange and curious as it may
+seem, it was so, and the little girl, now a little girl no longer, offers
+this last loving tribute to the friend and teacher she loved so well.
+Forever that voice is still; be it mine to revive some ancient memories of
+it.
+
+First, however, as I have essayed to be some sort of a biographer, I feel
+that before I let my pen run easily over the tale of my intimate knowledge
+of Lewis Carroll I must put down very shortly some facts about his life.
+
+The Rev. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson died when he was sixty-six years old,
+and when his famous book, "Alice in Wonderland," had been published for
+thirty-three years. He was born at Daresbury, in Cheshire, and his father
+was the Rev. Charles Dodgson. The first years of his life were spent at
+Daresbury, but afterwards the family went to live at a place called Croft,
+in Yorkshire. He went first to a private school in Yorkshire and then to
+Rugby, where he spent years that he always remembered as very happy ones.
+In 1850 he went to Christ Church, Oxford, and from that time till the year
+of his death he was inseparably connected with "The House," as Christ
+Church college is generally called, from its Latin name "Ædes Christi,"
+which means, literally translated, the House of Christ.
+
+There he won great distinction as a scholar of mathematics, and wrote many
+abstruse and learned books, very different from "Alice in Wonderland."
+There is a tale that when the Queen had read "Alice in Wonderland" she was
+so pleased that she asked for more books by the same author. Lewis Carroll
+was written to, and back, with the name of Charles Dodgson on the
+title-page, came a number of the very dryest books about Algebra and
+Euclid that you can imagine.
+
+Still, even in mathematics his whimsical fancy was sometimes suffered to
+peep out, and little girls who learnt the rudiments of calculation at his
+knee found the path they had imagined so thorny set about with roses by
+reason of the delightful fun with which he would turn a task into a joy.
+But when the fun was over the little girl would find that she had learnt
+the lesson (all unknowingly) just the same. Happy little girls who had
+such a master. The old rhyme--
+
+  "Multiplication is vexation,
+    Division is as bad,
+  The rule of three doth puzzle me,
+    And Practice drives me mad,"
+
+would never need to have been written had all arithmetic lessons been like
+the arithmetic lessons given by Charles Dodgson to his little friends.
+
+As a lecturer to his grown-up pupils he was also surprisingly lucid, and
+under his deft treatment the knottiest of problems were quickly smoothed
+out and made easy for his hearers to comprehend. "I always hated
+mathematics at school," an ex-pupil of his told me a little while ago,
+"but when I went up to Oxford I learnt from Mr. Dodgson to look upon my
+mathematics as the most delightful of all my studies. His lectures were
+never dry."
+
+For twenty-six years he lectured at Oxford, finally giving up his post in
+1881. From that time to the time of his death he remained in his college,
+taking no actual part in the tuition, but still enjoying the Fellowship
+that he had won in 1861.
+
+This is an official account, a brief sketch of an intensely interesting
+life. It tells little save that Lewis Carroll was a clever mathematician
+and a sympathetic teacher; it shall be my work to present him as he was
+from a more human point of view.
+
+Lewis Carroll was a man of medium height. When I knew him his hair was a
+silver-grey, rather longer than it was the fashion to wear, and his eyes
+were a deep blue. He was clean shaven, and, as he walked, always seemed a
+little unsteady in his gait. At Oxford he was a well-known figure. He was
+a little eccentric in his clothes. In the coldest weather he would never
+wear an overcoat, and he had a curious habit of always wearing, in all
+seasons of the year, a pair of grey and black cotton gloves.
+
+But for the whiteness of his hair it was difficult to tell his age from
+his face, for there were no wrinkles on it. He had a curiously womanish
+face, and, in direct contradiction to his real character, there seemed to
+be little strength in it. One reads a great deal about the lines that a
+man's life paints in his face, and there are many people who believe that
+character is indicated by the curves of flesh and bone. I do not, and
+never shall, believe it is true, and Lewis Carroll is only one of many
+instances to support my theory. He was as firm and self-contained as a man
+may be, but there was little to show it in his face.
+
+Yet you could easily discern it in the way in which he met and talked with
+his friends. When he shook hands with you--he had firm white hands, rather
+large--his grip was strong and steadfast. Every one knows the kind of man
+of whom it is said "his hands were all soft and flabby when he said,
+'How-do-you-do.'" Well, Lewis Carroll was not a bit like that. Every one
+says when he shook your hand the pressure of his was full of strength,
+and you felt here indeed was a man to admire and to love. The expression
+in his eyes was also very kind and charming.
+
+
+[Illustration: LEWIS CARROLL'S ROOM IN OXFORD IN WHICH "ALICE IN
+WONDERLAND" WAS WRITTEN]
+
+
+He used to look at me, when we met, in the very tenderest, gentlest way.
+Of course on an ordinary occasion I knew that his interested glance did
+not mean anything of any extra importance. Nothing could have happened
+since I had seen him last, yet, at the same time, his look was always so
+deeply sympathetic and benevolent that one could hardly help feeling it
+meant a great deal more than the expression of the ordinary man.
+
+He was afflicted with what I believe is known as "Housemaid's knee," and
+this made his movements singularly jerky and abrupt. Then again he found
+it impossible to avoid stammering in his speech. He would, when engaged in
+an animated conversation with a friend, talk quickly and well for a few
+minutes, and then suddenly and without any very apparent cause would
+begin to stutter so much, that it was often difficult to understand him.
+He was very conscious of this impediment, and he tried hard to cure
+himself. For several years he read a scene from some play of Shakespeare's
+every day aloud, but despite this he was never quite able to cure himself
+of the habit. Many people would have found this a great hindrance to the
+affairs of ordinary life, and would have felt it deeply. Lewis Carroll was
+different. His mind and life were so simple and open that there was no
+room in them for self-consciousness, and I have often heard him jest at
+his own misfortune, with a comic wonder at it.
+
+The personal characteristic that you would notice most on meeting Lewis
+Carroll was his extreme shyness. With children, of course, he was not
+nearly so reserved, but in the society of people of maturer age he was
+almost old-maidishly prim in his manner. When he knew a child well this
+reserve would vanish completely, but it needed only a slightly
+disconcerting incident to bring the cloak of shyness about him once more,
+and close the lips that just before had been talking so delightfully.
+
+I shall never forget one afternoon when we had been walking in Christ
+Church meadows. On one side of the great open space the little river
+Cherwell runs through groves of trees towards the Isis, where the college
+boat-races are rowed. We were going quietly along by the side of the
+"Cher," when he began to explain to me that the tiny stream was a
+tributary, "a baby river" he put it, of the big Thames. He talked for some
+minutes, explaining how rivers came down from hills and flowed eventually
+to the sea, when he suddenly met a brother Don at a turning in the avenue.
+
+He was holding my hand and giving me my lesson in geography with great
+earnestness when the other man came round the corner.
+
+
+[Illustration: C. L. DODGSON]
+
+
+He greeted him in answer to his salutation, but the incident disturbed his
+train of thought, and for the rest of the walk he became very difficult to
+understand, and talked in a nervous and preoccupied manner. One strange
+way in which his nervousness affected him was peculiarly characteristic.
+When, owing to the stupendous success of "Alice in Wonderland" and "Alice
+Through the Looking-Glass," he became a celebrity many people were anxious
+to see him, and in some way or other to find out what manner of man he
+was. This seemed to him horrible, and he invented a mild deception for use
+when some autograph-hunter or curious person sent him a request for his
+signature on a photograph, or asked him some silly question as to the
+writing of one of his books, how long it took to write, and how many
+copies had been sold. Through some third person he always represented that
+Lewis Carroll the author and Mr. Dodgson the professor were two distinct
+persons, and that the author could not be heard of at Oxford at all. On
+one occasion an American actually wrote to say that he had heard that
+Lewis Carroll had laid out a garden to represent some of the scenes in
+"Alice in Wonderland," and that he (the American) was coming right away to
+take photographs of it. Poor Lewis Carroll, he was in terror of Americans
+for a week!
+
+Of being photographed he had a horror, and despite the fact that he was
+continually and importunately requested to sit before the camera, only
+very few photographs of him are in existence. Yet he had been himself a
+great amateur photographer, and had taken many pictures that were
+remarkable in their exact portraiture of the subject.
+
+It was this exactness that he used to pride himself on in his camera work.
+He always said that modern professional photographers spoilt all their
+pictures by touching them up absurdly to flatter the sitter. When it was
+necessary for me to have some pictures taken he sent me to Mr. H. H.
+Cameron, whom he declared to be the only artist who dared to produce a
+photograph that was exactly like its subject. This is one of the
+photographs of me that Mr. Cameron took, and Lewis Carroll always declared
+that it was a perfect specimen of portrait work.
+
+Many of the photographs of children in this book are Lewis Carroll's work.
+Miss Beatrice Hatch, to whose kindness I am indebted for these photographs
+and for much interesting information, writes in the _Strand Magazine_
+(April 1898):
+
+    "My earliest recollections of Mr. Dodgson are connected with
+    photography. He was very fond of this art at one time, though he had
+    entirely given it up for many years latterly. He kept various costumes
+    and 'properties' with which to dress us up, and, of course, that added
+    to the fun. What child would not thoroughly enjoy personating a
+    Japanese or a beggar child, or a gipsy or an Indian? Sometimes there
+    were excursions to the roof of the college, which was easily
+    accessible from the windows of the studio. Or you might stand by your
+    friend's side in the tiny dark room and watch him while he poured the
+    contents of several little strong-smelling bottles on to the glass
+    picture of yourself that looked so funny with its black face."
+
+
+[Illustration: A CHINAMAN]
+
+
+Yet, despite his love for the photographer's art, he hated the idea of
+having his own picture taken for the benefit of a curious world. The
+shyness that made him nervous in the presence of strangers made the idea
+that any one who cared to stare into a shop window could examine and
+criticise his portrait extremely repulsive to him.
+
+I remember that this shyness of his was the only occasion of anything
+approaching a quarrel between us.
+
+I had an idle trick of drawing caricatures when I was a child, and one day
+when he was writing some letters I began to make a picture of him on the
+back of an envelope. I quite forget what the drawing was like--probably it
+was an abominable libel--but suddenly he turned round and saw what I was
+doing. He got up from his seat and turned very red, frightening me very
+much. Then he took my poor little drawing, and tearing it into small
+pieces threw it into the fire without a word. Afterwards he came suddenly
+to me, and saying nothing, caught me up in his arms and kissed me
+passionately. I was only some ten or eleven years of age at the time, but
+now the incident comes back to me very clearly, and I can see it as if it
+happened but yesterday--the sudden snatching of my picture, the hurried
+striding across the room, and then the tender light in his face as he
+caught me up to him and kissed me.
+
+I used to see a good deal of him at Oxford, and I was constantly in Christ
+Church. He would invite me to stay with him and find me rooms just outside
+the college gates, where I was put into charge of an elderly dame, whose
+name, if I do not forget, was Mrs. Buxall. I would spend long happy days
+with my uncle, and at nine o'clock I was taken over to the little house in
+St. Aldates and delivered into the hands of the landlady, who put me to
+bed.
+
+In the morning I was awakened by the deep reverberations of "Great Tom"
+calling Oxford to wake and begin the new day. Those times were very
+pleasant, and the remembrance of them lingers with me still. Lewis
+Carroll at the time of which I am speaking had two tiny turret rooms, one
+on each side of his staircase in Christ Church. He always used to tell me
+that when I grew up and became married he would give me the two little
+rooms, so that if I ever disagreed with my husband we could each of us
+retire to a turret till we had made up our quarrel!
+
+And those rooms of his! I do not think there was ever such a fairy-land
+for children. I am sure they must have contained one of the finest
+collections of musical-boxes to be found anywhere in the world. There were
+big black ebony boxes with glass tops through which you could see all the
+works. There was a big box with a handle, which it was quite hard exercise
+for a little girl to turn, and there must have been twenty or thirty
+little ones which could only play one tune. Sometimes one of the
+musical-boxes would not play properly, and then I always got tremendously
+excited. Uncle used to go to a drawer in the table and produce a box of
+little screw-drivers and punches, and while I sat on his knee he would
+unscrew the lid and take out the wheels to see what was the matter. He
+must have been a clever mechanist, for the result was always the
+same-after a longer or shorter period the music began again. Sometimes
+when the musical-boxes had played all their tunes he used to put them in
+the box backwards, and was as pleased as I at the comic effect of the
+music "standing on its head," as he phrased it.
+
+There was another and very wonderful toy which he sometimes produced for
+me, and this was known as "The Bat." The ceilings of the rooms in which he
+lived at the time were very high indeed, and admirably suited for the
+purposes of "The Bat." It was an ingeniously constructed toy of gauze and
+wire, which actually flew about the room like a bat. It was worked by a
+piece of twisted elastic, and it could fly for about half a minute.
+
+I was always a little afraid of this toy because it was too lifelike, but
+there was a fearful joy in it. When the music-boxes began to pall he would
+get up from his chair and look at me with a knowing smile. I always knew
+what was coming even before he began to speak, and I used to dance up and
+down in tremendous anticipation.
+
+"Isa, my darling," he would say, "once upon a time there was some one
+called Bob the Bat! and he lived in the top left-hand drawer of the
+writing-table. What could he do when uncle wound him up?"
+
+And then I would squeak out breathlessly, "He could really FLY!"
+
+Bob the Bat had many adventures. There was no way of controlling the
+direction of its flight, and one morning, a hot summer's morning when the
+window was wide open, Bob flew out into the garden and alighted in a bowl
+of salad which a scout was taking to some one's rooms. The poor fellow
+was so startled by the sudden flapping apparition that he dropped the
+bowl, and it was broken into a thousand pieces.
+
+There! I have written "a thousand pieces," and a thoughtless exaggeration
+of that sort was a thing that Lewis Carroll hated. "A thousand pieces?" he
+would have said; "you know, Isa, that if the bowl had been broken into a
+thousand pieces they would each have been so tiny that you could have
+hardly seen them." And if the broken pieces had been get-at-able, he would
+have made me count them as a means of impressing on my mind the folly of
+needless exaggeration.
+
+I remember how annoyed he was once when, after a morning's sea bathing at
+Eastbourne, I exclaimed, "Oh, this salt water, it always makes my hair as
+stiff as a poker."
+
+He impressed it on me quite irritably that no little girl's hair could
+ever possibly get as stiff as a poker. "If you had said, 'as stiff as
+wires,' it would have been more like it, but even that would have been an
+exaggeration." And then, seeing that I was a little frightened, he drew
+for me a picture of "The little girl called Isa whose hair turned into
+pokers because she was always exaggerating things."
+
+That, and all the other pictures that he drew for me are, I'm sorry to
+say, the sole property of the little fishes in the Irish Channel, where a
+clumsy porter dropped them as we hurried into the boat at Holyhead.
+
+"I nearly died of laughing," was another expression that he particularly
+disliked; in fact any form of exaggeration generally called from him a
+reproof, though he was sometimes content to make fun. For instance, my
+sisters and I had sent him "millions of kisses" in a letter. Below you
+will find the letter that he wrote in return, written in violet ink that
+he always used (dreadfully ugly, I used to think it).
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+    "CH. Ch. Oxford,
+    "_Ap. 14, 1890_.
+
+    "MY OWN DARLING,
+
+    It's all very well for you and Nellie and Emsie to write in millions
+    of hugs and kisses, but please consider the _time_ it would occupy
+    your poor old very busy Uncle! Try hugging and kissing Emsie for a
+    minute by the watch, and I don't think you'll manage it more than 20
+    times a minute. 'Millions' must mean 2 millions at least.
+
+        20)2,000,000 hugs and kisses
+          60)100,000 minutes
+            12)1,666 hours
+              6)138 days (at twelve hours a day)
+                23 weeks.
+
+    "I couldn't go on hugging and kissing more than 12 hours a day: and I
+    wouldn't like to spend _Sundays_ that way. So you see it would take
+    _23 weeks_ of hard work. Really, my dear child, I _cannot spare the
+    time_.
+
+    "Why haven't I written since my last letter? Why, how _could_ I, you
+    silly silly child? How could I have written _since the last time_ I
+    _did_ write? Now, you just try it with kissing. Go and kiss Nellie,
+    from me, several times, and take care to manage it so as to have
+    kissed her _since the last time_ you _did_ kiss her. Now go back to
+    your place, and I'll question you.
+
+    "'Have you kissed her several times?'
+
+    "'Yes, darling Uncle.'
+
+    "'What o'clock was it when you gave her the _last_ kiss?'
+
+    "'5 minutes past 10, Uncle.'
+
+    "'Very well, now, have you kissed her _since_?'
+
+    "'Well--I--ahem! ahem! ahem! (excuse me, Uncle, I've got a bad cough).
+    I--think--that--I--that is, you, know, I----'
+
+    "'Yes, I see! "Isa" begins with "I," and it seems to me as if she was
+    going to _end_ with "I," _this_ time!'
+
+    "Anyhow, my not writing hasn't been because I was _ill_, but because I
+    was a horrid lazy old thing, who kept putting it off from day to day,
+    till at last I said to myself, 'WHO ROAR! There's no time to write
+    now, because they _sail_ on the 1st of April.'[1] In fact, I shouldn't
+    have been a bit surprised if this letter had been from _Fulham_,
+    instead of Louisville. Well, I suppose you _will_ be there by about
+    the middle of May. But mind you don't write to me from there! Please,
+    _please_, no more horrid letters from you! I _do_ hate them so! And as
+    for _kissing_ them when I get them, why, I'd just as soon
+    kiss--kiss--kiss _you_, you tiresome thing! So there now!
+
+    "Thank you very much for those 2 photographs--I liked
+    them--hum--_pretty_ well. I can't honestly say I thought them the very
+    best I had ever seen.
+
+    "Please give my kindest regards to your mother, and 1/2 of a kiss to
+    Nellie, and 1/200 a kiss to Emsie, and 1/2,000,000 a kiss to yourself.
+    So, with fondest love, I am, my darling, your loving Uncle,
+
+    "C. L. DODGSON."
+
+And now, in the postscript, comes one of the rare instances in which Lewis
+Carroll showed his deep religious feeling. It runs--
+
+    "_P.S._--I've thought about that little prayer you asked me to write
+    for Nellie and Emsie. But I would like, first, to have the words of
+    the one I wrote for _you_, and the words of what they _now_ say, if
+    they say any. And then I will pray to our Heavenly Father to help me
+    to write a prayer that will be really fit for them to use."
+
+Again, I had ended one of my letters with "all join me in lufs and
+kisses." It was a letter written when I was away from home and alone, and
+I had put the usual ending thoughtlessly and in haste, for there was no
+one that I knew in all that town who could have joined me in my messages
+to him. He answered me as follows:--
+
+    "7 LUSHINGTON ROAD, EASTBOURNE,
+    "_Aug. 30, 90_.
+
+    "Oh, you naughty, naughty, bad wicked little girl! You forgot to put a
+    stamp on your letter, and your poor old uncle had to pay TWOPENCE! His
+    _last_ Twopence! Think of that. I shall punish you severely for this
+    when once I get you here. So _tremble_! Do you hear? Be good enough to
+    tremble!
+
+    "I've only time for one question to-day. Who in the world are the
+    'all' that join you in 'Lufs and kisses.' Weren't you fancying you
+    were at home, and sending messages (as people constantly do) from
+    Nellie and Emsie without their having given any? It isn't a good plan
+    that sending messages people haven't given. I don't mean it's in the
+    least _untruthful_, because everybody knows how commonly they are sent
+    without having been given; but it lessens the pleasure of receiving
+    the messages. My sisters write to me 'with best love from all.' I know
+    it isn't true; so I don't value it much. The other day, the husband of
+    one of my 'child-friends' (who always writes 'your loving') wrote to
+    me and ended with 'Ethel joins me in kindest regards.' In my answer I
+    said (of course in fun)--'I am not going to send Ethel kindest
+    regards, so I won't send her any message _at all_.' Then she wrote to
+    say she didn't even know he was writing! 'Of course I would have sent
+    best love,' and she added that she had given her husband a piece of
+    her mind! Poor husband!
+
+    "Your always loving uncle,
+    "C. L. D."
+
+These letters are written in Lewis Carroll's ordinary handwriting, not a
+particularly legible one. When, however, he was writing for the press no
+characters could have been more clearly and distinctly formed than his.
+Throughout his life he always made it his care to give as little trouble
+as possible to other people. "Why should the printers have to work
+overtime because my letters are ill-formed and my words run into each
+other?" he once said, when a friend remonstrated with him because he took
+such pains with the writing of his "copy." As a specimen of his careful
+penmanship the diary that he wrote for me, which is reproduced in this
+book in facsimile, is an admirable example.
+
+They were happy days, those days in Oxford, spent with the most
+fascinating companion that a child could have. In our walks about the old
+town, in our visits to cathedral or chapel or hall, in our visits to his
+friends he was an ideal companion, but I think I was almost happiest when
+we came back to his rooms and had tea alone; when the fire-glow (it was
+always winter when I stayed in Oxford) threw fantastic shadows about the
+quaint room, and the thoughts of the prosiest of people must have
+wandered a little into fancy-land. The shifting firelight seemed to
+almost ætherealise that kindly face, and as the wonderful stories fell
+from his lips, and his eyes lighted on me with the sweetest smile that
+ever a man wore, I was conscious of a love and reverence for Charles
+Dodgson that became nearly an adoration.
+
+It was almost pain when the lights were turned up and we came back to
+everyday life and tea.
+
+He was very particular about his tea, which he always made himself, and in
+order that it should draw properly he would walk about the room swinging
+the tea-pot from side to side for exactly ten minutes. The idea of the
+grave professor promenading his book-lined study and carefully waving a
+tea-pot to and fro may seem ridiculous, but all the minutiæ of life
+received an extreme attention at his hands, and after the first surprise
+one came quickly to realise the convenience that his carefulness ensured.
+
+
+[Illustration: BEGGAR CHILDREN]
+
+
+Before starting on a railway journey, for instance (and how delightful
+were railway journeys in the company of Lewis Carroll), he used to map
+out exactly every minute of the time that we were to take on the way. The
+details of the journey completed, he would exactly calculate the amount of
+money that must be spent, and, in different partitions of the two purses
+that he carried, arrange the various sums that would be necessary for
+cabs, porters, newspapers, refreshments, and the other expenses of a
+journey. It was wonderful how much trouble he saved himself _en route_ by
+thus making ready beforehand. Lewis Carroll was never driven half frantic
+on a station platform because he had to change a sovereign to buy a penny
+paper while the train was on the verge of starting. With him journeys were
+always comfortable.
+
+Of the joys that waited on a little girl who stayed with Lewis Carroll at
+his Oxford home I can give no better idea than that furnished by the diary
+that follows, which he wrote for me, bit by bit, during the evenings of
+one of my stays at Oxford.
+
+
+[Illustrations: Facsimile:
+
+=Isa's Visit to Oxford.=
+
+1888.
+
+
+=Chap. I.=
+
+On Wednesday, the Eleventh of July, Isa happened to meet a friend at
+Paddington Station at half-past-ten. She can't remember his name, but she
+says he was an old old old gentleman, and he had invited her, she thinks,
+to go with him somewhere or other, she can't remember where.
+
+
+=Chap. II.=
+
+The first thing they did, after calling at a shop, was to go to the
+Panorama of the "Falls of Niagara". Isa thought it very wonderful. You
+seemed to be on the top of a tower, with miles and miles of country all
+round you. The things in front were real, and somehow they joined into the
+picture behind, so that you couldn't tell where the real things ended and
+the picture began. Near the foot of the Falls, there was a steam-packet
+crossing the river, which showed what a tremendous height the Falls must
+be, it looked so tiny. In the road in front were two men and a dog,
+standing looking the other way. They may have been wooden figures, or part
+of the picture, there was no knowing which. The man, who stood next to
+Isa, said to another man "That dog looked round just now. Now see, I'll
+whistle to him, and make him look round again!" And he began whistling:
+and Isa almost expected, it looked so exactly like a real dog, that it
+would turn its head to see who was calling it!
+
+After that Isa and her friend (the Aged Aged Man) went to the house of a
+Mr Dymes. Mrs Dymes gave them some dinner, and two of her children, called
+Helen and Maud, went with them to Terry's Theatre, to see the play of
+"Little Lord Fauntleroy". Little Véra Beringer was the little Lord
+Fauntleroy. Isa would have liked to play the part, but the Manager at the
+Theatre did not allow her, as she did not know the words, which would have
+made it go off badly. Isa liked the whole play very much: the passionate
+old Earl, and the gentle Mother of the little boy, and the droll "Mr.
+Hobbs", and all of them.
+
+Then they all went off by the Metropolitan Railway, and the two Miss
+Dymeses got out at their station, and Isa and the A.A.M. went on to
+Oxford. A kind old lady, called Mrs Symonds, had invited Isa to come and
+sleep at her house: and she was soon fast asleep, and dreaming that she
+and little Lord Fauntleroy were going in a steamer down the Falls of
+Niagara, and whistling to a dog, who was in such a hurry to go up the
+Falls that he wouldn't attend to them.
+
+
+=Chap. III.=
+
+The next morning Isa set off, almost before she was awake, with the
+A.A.M., to pay a visit to a little College, called "Christ Church". You go
+in under a magnificent tower, called "Tom Tower", nearly four feet high
+(so that Isa had hardly to stoop at all, to go under it) into the Great
+Quadrangle (which very vulgar people call "Tom Quad".) You should always
+be polite, even when speaking to a Quadrangle: it might seem not to take
+any notice, but it doesn't like being called names. On their way to Christ
+Church they saw a tall monument, like the spire of a church, called the
+"Martyrs' Memorial", put up in memory of three Bishops, Cranmer, Ridley
+and Latimer, who were burned in the reign of Queen Mary, because they
+would not be Roman Catholics. Christ Church was built in 1546.
+
+They had breakfast at Ch. Ch., in the rooms of the A.A.M., and then Isa
+learned how to print with the "Typewriter", and printed several beautiful
+volumes of poetry, all of her own invention. By this time it was 1
+o'clock, so Isa paid a visit to the Kitchen, to make sure that the
+chicken, for her dinner, was being properly roasted The Kitchen is about
+the oldest part of the College, so was built about 1546. It has a
+fire-grate large enough to roast forty legs of mutton at once.
+
+Then they saw the Dining Hall, in which the A.A.M. has dined several
+times, (about 8,000 times, perhaps). After dinner, they went, through the
+quadrangle of the Bodleian Library, into Broad Street, and, as a band was
+just going by, of course they followed it. (Isa likes Bands better than
+anything in the world, except Lands, and walking on Sands, and wringing
+her Hands). The Band led them into the gardens of Wadham College (built in
+1613), where there was a school-treat going on. The treat was, first
+marching twice round the garden--then having a photograph done of them,
+all in a row--then a =promise= of "Punch and Judy", which wouldn't be
+ready for 20 minutes, so Isa, and Co., wouldn't wait, but went back to Ch.
+Ch., and saw the "Broad Walk." In the evening they played at "Reversi",
+till Isa had lost the small remainder of her temper. Then she went to bed,
+and dreamed she was Judy, and was beating Punch with a stick of
+Barley-sugar.
+
+
+=Chap. IV.=
+
+On Friday morning (after taking her medicine very amiably), went with the
+A.A.M. (who =would= go with her, though she told him over and over she
+would rather be alone) to the gardens of Worcester College (built in 1714)
+where they didn't see the swans (who ought to have been on the lake), nor
+the hippopotamus, who ought not to have been walking about among the
+flowers, gathering honey like a busy bee.
+
+After breakfast, Isa helped the A.A.M. to pack his luggage, because he
+thought he would go away, he didn't know where, some day, he didn't know
+when--so she put a lot of things, she didn't know what, into boxes, she
+didn't know which.
+
+After dinner they went to St. John's College (built in 1555), and admired
+the large lawn, where more than 150 ladies, dressed in robes of gold and
+silver, were not walking about.
+
+Then they saw the Chapel of Keble College (built in 1870) and then the
+New Museum, where Isa quite lost her heart to a charming stuffed Gorilla,
+that smiled on her from a glass case. The Museum was finished in 1860. The
+most curious thing they saw there was a "Walking Leaf," a kind of insect
+that looks exactly like a withered leaf.
+
+Then they went to New College (built in 1386), & saw, close to the
+entrance, a "skew" arch (going slantwise through the wall) one of the
+first ever built in England. After seeing the gardens, they returned to
+Ch. Ch. (Parts of the old City walls run round the gardens of New College:
+and you may still see some of the old narrow slits, through which the
+defenders could shoot arrows at the attacking army, who could hardly
+succeed in shooting through them from the outside).
+
+They had tea with Mrs Paget, wife of Dr. Paget one of the Canons of Ch.
+Ch. Then, after a sorrowful evening, Isa went to bed, and dreamed she was
+buzzing about among the flowers, with the dear Gorilla: but there wasn't
+any honey in them--only slices of bread-and-butter, and
+multiplication-tables.
+
+
+=Chap. V.=
+
+On Saturday Isa had a Music Lesson, and learned to play on an American
+Orguinette. It is not a =very= difficult instrument to play, as you only
+have to turn a handle round and round: so she did it nicely. You put a
+long piece of paper in, and it goes through the machine, and the holes in
+the paper make different notes play. They put one in wrong end first, and
+had a tune backwards, and soon found themselves in the day before
+yesterday: so they dared not go on, for fear of making Isa so young she
+would not be able to talk. The A.A.M. does not like visitors who only
+howl, and get red in the face, from morning to night.
+
+In the afternoon they went round Ch. Ch. meadow, and saw the Barges
+belonging to the Colleges, and some pretty views of Magdalen Tower through
+the trees.
+
+Then they went through the Botanical Gardens, built in the year----no, by
+the bye, they never were built at all. And then to Magdalen College. At
+the top of the wall, in one corner, they saw a very large jolly face,
+carved in stone, with a broad grin, and a little man at the side, helping
+him to laugh by pulling up the corner of his mouth for him. Isa thought
+that, the next time she wants to laugh, she will get Nellie and Maggie to
+help her. With two people to pull up the corners of your mouth for you, it
+is as easy to laugh as can be!
+
+They went into Magdalen Meadow, which has a pretty walk all round it,
+arched over with trees: and there they met a lady "from Amurrica," as she
+told them, who wanted to know the way to "Addison's Walk," and
+particularly wanted to know if there would be "any danger" in going there.
+They told her the way, and that =most= of the lions and tigers and
+buffaloes, round the meadow, were quite gentle and hardly ever killed
+people: so she set off, pale and trembling, and they saw her no more:
+only they heard her screams in the distance: so they guessed what had
+happened to her
+
+Then they rode in a tram-car to another part of Oxford, and called on a
+lady called Mrs Jeane, and her little grand-daughter, called "Noël",
+because she was born on Christmas-Day. ("Noël" is the French name for
+"Christmas".) And there they had so much Tea that at last Isa nearly
+turned into a "Teaser".
+
+Then they went home, down a little narrow street, where there was a little
+dog standing fixed in the middle of the street, as if its feet were glued
+to the ground: they asked it how long it meant to stand there, and it said
+(as well as it could) "till the week after next".
+
+Then Isa went to bed, and dreamed she was going round Magdalen Meadow,
+with the "Amurrican" lady, and there was a buffalo sitting at the top of
+every tree, handing her cups of tea as she went underneath: but they all
+held the cups upside-down, so that the tea poured all over her head and
+ran down her face.
+
+
+=Chap. VI.=
+
+On Sunday morning they went to St. Mary's church, in High Street. In
+coming home, down the street next to the one where they had found a fixed
+dog, they found a fixed cat--a poor little kitten, that had put out its
+head through the bars of the cellar-window, and get back again. They rang
+the bell at the next door, but the maid said the cellar wasn't in that
+house, and, before they could get to the right door the cat had unfixed
+its head----either from its neck or from the bars, and had gone inside.
+Isa thought the animals in this city have a curious way of fixing
+themselves up and down the place, as if they were hat-pegs.
+
+Then they went back to Ch. Ch., and looked at a lot of dresses, which the
+A.A.M kept in a cupboard, to dress up children in, when they come to be
+photographed. Some of the dresses had been used in Pantomimes at Drury
+Lane: some were rags, to dress up beggar-children in: some had been very
+magnificent once, but were getting quite old and shabby. Talking of old
+dresses, there is one College in Oxford, so old that it is not known for
+certain when it was built The people, who live there, say it was built
+more than 1000 years ago: and, when they say this, the people who live in
+the other Colleges never contradict them, but listen most
+respectfully----only they wink a little with one eye, as if they didn't
+=quite= believe it.
+
+The same day, Isa saw a curious book of pictures of ghosts. If you look
+hard at one for a minute, and then look at the ceiling, you see another
+ghost there: only, when you have a black one in the book, it is a =white=
+one on the ceiling: when it is green in the book, it is =pink= on the
+ceiling.
+
+In the middle of the day, as usual, Isa had her dinner: but this time it
+was grander than usual. There was a dish of "Meringues" (this is
+pronounced "Marangs"), which Isa thought so good that she would have liked
+to live on them all the rest of her life.
+
+They took a little walk in the afternoon, and in the middle of Broad
+Street they saw a cross buried in the ground, very near the place where
+the Martyrs were burned. Then they went into the gardens of Trinity
+College (built in 1554) to see the "Lime Walk", a pretty little avenue of
+lime-trees. The great iron "gates" at the end of the garden are not real
+gates, but all done in one piece: and they couldn't open them, even if you
+knocked all day. Isa thought them a miserable sham.
+
+Then they went into the "Parks" (this word doesn't mean "parks of grass,
+with trees and deer," but "parks" of guns: that is, great rows of cannons,
+which stood there when King Charles the First was in Oxford, and Oliver
+Cromwell fighting against him.
+
+They saw "Mansfield College", a new College just begun to be built, with
+such tremendously narrow windows that Isa was afraid the young gentlemen
+who come there will not be able to see to learn their lessons, and will go
+away from Oxford just as wise as they came.
+
+Then they went to the evening service at New College, and heard some
+beautiful singing and organ-playing. Then back to Ch. Ch., in pouring
+rain. Isa tried to count the drops: but, when she had counted four
+millions, three hundred and seventy-eight thousand, two hundred and
+forty-seven, she got tired of counting, and left off.
+
+After dinner, Isa got somebody or other (she is not sure who it was) to
+finish this story for her. Then she went to bed, and dreamed she was fixed
+in the middle of Oxford, with her feet fast to the ground, and her head
+between the bars of a cellar-window, in a sort of final tableau. Then she
+dreamed the curtain came down, and the people all called out "encore!" But
+she cried out "Oh, not again! It would be =too= dreadful to have my visit
+all over again!" But, on second thoughts, she smiled in her sleep, and
+said "Well, do you know, after all, I think I wouldn't mind so very much
+if I =did= have it all over again!".
+
+Lewis Carroll.
+
+THE END]
+
+
+This diary, and what I have written before, show how I, as a little girl,
+knew Lewis Carroll at Oxford.
+
+For his little girl friends, of course, he reserved the most intimate side
+of his nature, but on occasion he would throw off his reserve and talk
+earnestly and well to some young man in whose life he took an interest.
+
+Mr. Arthur Girdlestone is able to bear witness to this, and he has given
+me an account of an evening that he once spent with Lewis Carroll, which I
+reproduce here from notes made during our conversation.
+
+Mr. Girdlestone, then an undergraduate at New College, had on one occasion
+to call on Lewis Carroll at his rooms in Tom Quad. At the time of which I
+am speaking Lewis Carroll had retired very much from the society which he
+had affected a few years before. Indeed for the last years of his life he
+was almost a recluse, and beyond dining in Hall saw hardly any one. Miss
+Beatrice Hatch, one of his "girl friends," writes apropos of his
+hermit-like seclusion:--
+
+"If you were very anxious to get him to come to your house on any
+particular day, the only chance was _not_ to _invite_ him, but only to
+inform him that you would be at home. Otherwise he would say, 'As you have
+_invited_ me I cannot come, for I have made a rule to decline all
+_invitations_; but I will come the next day.' In former years he would
+sometimes consent to go to a 'party' if he was quite sure he was not to be
+'shown off' or introduced to any one as the author of 'Alice.' I must
+again quote from a note of his in answer to an invitation to tea: 'What an
+awful proposition! To drink tea from four to six would tax the
+constitution even of a hardened tea drinker! For me, who hardly ever touch
+it, it would probably be fatal.'"
+
+All through the University, except in an extremely limited circle, Lewis
+Carroll was regarded as a person who lived very much by himself. "When,"
+Mr. Girdlestone said to me, "I went to see him on quite a slight
+acquaintance, I confess it was with some slight feeling of trepidation.
+However I had to on some business, and accordingly I knocked at his door
+about 8.30 one winter's evening, and was invited to come in.
+
+"He was sitting working at a writing-table, and all round him were piles
+of MSS. arranged with mathematical neatness, and many of them tied up with
+tape. The lamp threw his face into sharp relief as he greeted me. My
+business was soon over, and I was about to go away, when he asked me if I
+would have a glass of wine and sit with him for a little.
+
+"The night outside was very cold, and the fire was bright and inviting,
+and I sat down. He began to talk to me of ordinary subjects, of the things
+a man might do at Oxford, of the place itself, and the affection in which
+he held it. He talked quietly, and in a rather tired voice. During our
+conversation my eye fell upon a photograph of a little girl--evidently
+from the freshness of its appearance but newly taken--which was resting
+upon the ledge of a reading-stand at my elbow. It was the picture of a
+tiny child, very pretty, and I picked it up to look at it.
+
+"'That is the baby of a girl friend of mine,' he said, and then, with an
+absolute change of voice, 'there is something very strange about very
+young children, something I cannot understand.' I asked him in what way,
+and he explained at some length. He was far less at his ease than when
+talking trivialities, and he occasionally stammered and sometimes
+hesitated for a word. I cannot remember all he said, but some of his
+remarks still remain with me. He said that in the company of very little
+children his brain enjoyed a rest which was startlingly recuperative. If
+he had been working too hard or had tired his brain in any way, to play
+with children was like an actual material tonic to his whole system. I
+understood him to say that the effect was almost physical!
+
+"He said that he found it much easier to understand children, to get his
+mind into correspondence with their minds when he was fatigued with other
+work. Personally, I did not understand little children, and they seemed
+quite outside my experience, and rather incautiously I asked him if
+children never bored him. He had been standing up for most of the time,
+and when I asked him that, he sat down suddenly. 'They are three-fourths
+of my life,' he said. 'I cannot understand how any one could be bored by
+little children. I think when you are older you will come to see this--I
+hope you'll come to see it.'
+
+"After that he changed the subject once more, and became again the
+mathematician--a little formal, and rather weary."
+
+Mr. Girdlestone probably had a unique experience, for it was but rarely
+that Mr. Dodgson so far unburdened himself to a comparative stranger, and
+what was even worse, to a "grown-up stranger."
+
+Now I have given you two different phases of Lewis Carroll at
+Oxford--Lewis Carroll as the little girl's companion, and Lewis Carroll
+sitting by the fireside telling something of his inner self to a young
+man. I am going on to talk about my life with him at Eastbourne, where I
+used, year by year, to stay with him at his house in Lushington Road.
+
+He was very fond of Eastbourne, and it was from that place that I received
+the most charming letters that he wrote me. Here is one, and I could
+hardly say how many times I have taken this delightful letter from its
+drawer to read through and through again.
+
+    "7 LUSHINGTON ROAD, EASTBOURNE,
+    "_September 17, 1893_.
+
+    "Oh, you naughty, naughty little culprit! If only I could fly to
+    Fulham with a handy little stick (ten feet long and four inches thick
+    is my favourite size) how I would rap your wicked little knuckles.
+    However, there isn't much harm done, so I will sentence you to a
+    very mild punishment--only one year's imprisonment. If you'll just
+    tell the Fulham policeman about it, he'll manage all the rest for you,
+    and he'll fit you with a nice pair of handcuffs, and lock you up in a
+    nice cosy dark cell, and feed you on nice dry bread, and delicious
+    cold water.
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. GEORGE THE DRAGON]
+
+
+    "But how badly you _do_ spell your words! I _was_ so puzzled about the
+    'sacks full of love and baskets full of kisses!' But at last I made
+    out why, of course, you meant 'a sack full of _gloves_, and a basket
+    full of _kittens_!' Then I understood what you were sending me. And
+    just then Mrs. Dyer came to tell me a large sack and a basket had
+    come. There was such a miawing in the house, as if all the cats in
+    Eastbourne had come to see me! 'Oh, just open them please, Mrs. Dyer,
+    and count the things in them!'
+
+    "So in a few minutes Mrs. Dyer came and said, '500 pairs of gloves in
+    the sack and 250 kittens in the basket.'
+
+    "'Dear me! That makes 1000 gloves! four times as many gloves as
+    kittens! It's very kind of Maggie, but why did she send so many
+    gloves? for I haven't got 1000 _hands_, you know, Mrs. Dyer.'
+
+    "And Mrs. Dyer said, 'No, indeed, you're 998 hands short of that!'
+
+    "However the next day I made out what to do, and I took the basket
+    with me and walked off to the parish school--the _girl's_ school, you
+    know--and I said to the mistress, 'How many little girls are there at
+    school to-day?'
+
+    "'Exactly 250, sir.'
+
+    "'And have they all been _very_ good all day?'
+
+    "'As good as gold, sir.'
+
+    "So I waited outside the door with my basket, and as each little girl
+    came out, I just popped a soft little kitten into her hands! Oh, what
+    joy there was! The little girls went all dancing home, nursing their
+    kittens, and the whole air was full of purring! Then, the next
+    morning, I went to the school, before it opened, to ask the little
+    girls how the kittens had behaved in the night. And they all arrived
+    sobbing and crying, and their faces and hands were all covered with
+    scratches, and they had the kittens wrapped up in their pinafores to
+    keep them from scratching any more. And they sobbed out, 'The kittens
+    have been scratching us all night, all the night.'
+
+    "So then I said to myself, 'What a nice little girl Maggie is. _Now_ I
+    see why she sent all those gloves, and why there are four times as
+    many gloves as kittens!' and I said loud to the little girls, 'Never
+    mind, my dear children, do your lessons _very_ nicely, and don't cry
+    any more, and when school is over, you'll find me at the door, and you
+    shall see what you shall see!'
+
+    "So, in the evening, when the little girls came running out, with the
+    kittens still wrapped up in their pinafores, there was I, at the door,
+    with a big sack! And, as each little girl came out, I just popped into
+    her hand two pairs of gloves! And each little girl unrolled her
+    pinafore and took out an angry little kitten, spitting and snarling,
+    with its claws sticking out like a hedgehog. But it hadn't time to
+    scratch, for, in one moment, it found all its four claws popped into
+    nice soft warm gloves! And then the kittens got quite sweet-tempered
+    and gentle, and began purring again!
+
+    "So the little girls went dancing home again, and the next morning
+    they came dancing back to school. The scratches were all healed, and
+    they told me 'The kittens _have_ been good!' And, when any kitten
+    wants to catch a mouse, it just takes off _one_ of its gloves; and if
+    it wants to catch _two_ mice, it takes off two gloves; and if it wants
+    to catch _three_ mice, it takes off _three_ gloves; and if it wants to
+    catch _four_ mice, it takes off all its gloves. But the moment they've
+    caught the mice, they pop their gloves on again, because they know we
+    can't love them without their gloves. For, you see 'gloves' have got
+    'love' _inside_ them--there's none _outside_!
+
+    "So all the little girls said, 'Please thank Maggie, and we send her
+    250 _loves_, and 1000 _kisses_ in return for her 250 kittens and her
+    1000 _loves_!!' And I told them in the wrong order! and they said they
+    hadn't.
+
+    "Your loving old Uncle,
+    "C. L. D.
+
+    "Love and kisses to Nellie and Emsie."
+
+This letter takes up eight pages of close writing, and I should very much
+doubt if any child ever had a more charming one from anybody. The
+whimsical fancy in it, the absolute comprehension of a child's intellect,
+the quickness with which the writer employs the slightest incident or
+thing that would be likely to please a little girl, is simply wonderful. I
+shall never forget how the letter charmed and delighted my sister Maggie
+and myself. We called it "The glove and kitten letter," and as I look at
+the tremulous handwriting which is lying by my side, it all comes back to
+me very vividly--like the sound of forgotten fingers on the latch to some
+lonely fireside watcher, when the wind is wailing round the house with a
+wilder inner note than it has in the daytime.
+
+At Eastbourne I was happier even with Lewis Carroll than I was at Oxford.
+We seemed more free, and there was the air of holiday over it all. Every
+day of my stay at the house in Lushington Road was a perfect dream of
+delight.
+
+There was one regular and fixed routine which hardly ever varied, and
+which I came to know by heart; and I will write an account of it here,
+and ask any little girl who reads it, if she ever had such a splendid time
+in her life.
+
+To begin with, we used to get up very early indeed. Our bedroom doors
+faced each other at the top of the staircase. When I came out of mine I
+always knew if I might go into his room or not by his signal. If, when I
+came into the passage, I found that a newspaper had been put under the
+door, then I knew I might go in at once; but if there was no newspaper,
+then I had to wait till it appeared. I used to sit down on the top stair
+as quiet as a mouse, watching for the paper to come under the door, when I
+would rush in almost before uncle had time to get out of the way. This was
+always the first pleasure and excitement of the day. Then we used to
+downstairs to breakfast, after which we always read a chapter out of the
+Bible. So that I should remember it, I always had to tell it to him
+afterwards as a story of my own.
+
+
+[Illustration: "LEWIS CARROLL'S" HOUSE AT EASTBOURNE]
+
+
+"Now then, Isa dearest," he would say, "tell me a story, and mind you
+begin with 'once upon a time.' A story which does not begin with 'once
+upon a time' can't possibly be a good story. It's _most_ important."
+
+When I had told my story it was time to go out.
+
+I was learning swimming at the Devonshire Park baths, and we always had a
+bargain together. He would never allow me to go to the swimming-bath--which
+I revelled in--until I had promised him faithfully that I would go
+afterwards to the dentist's.
+
+He had great ideas upon the importance of a regular and almost daily visit
+to the dentist. He himself went to a dentist as he would have gone to a
+hairdresser's, and he insisted that all the little girls he knew should go
+too. The precaution sounds strange, and one might be inclined to think
+that Lewis Carroll carried it to an unnecessary length; but I can only
+bear personal witness to the fact that I have firm strong teeth, and have
+never had a toothache in my life. I believe I owe this entirely to those
+daily visits to the Eastbourne dentist.
+
+Soon after this it was time for lunch, and we both went back hand-in-hand
+to the rooms in Lushington Road. Lewis Carroll never had a proper lunch, a
+fact which always used to puzzle me tremendously.
+
+I could not understand how a big grown-up man could live on a glass of
+sherry and a biscuit at dinner time. It seemed such a pity when there was
+lots of mutton and rice-pudding that he should not have any. I always used
+to ask him, "Aren't you hungry, uncle, even _to-day_?"
+
+After lunch I used to have a lesson in backgammon, a game of which he was
+passionately fond, and of which he could never have enough. Then came what
+to me was the great trial of the day. I am afraid I was a very lazy little
+girl in those days, and I know I hated walking far. The trial was, that
+we should walk to the top of Beachy Head every afternoon. I used to like
+it very much when I got there, but the walk was irksome. Lewis Carroll
+believed very much in a great amount of exercise, and said one should
+always go to bed physically wearied with the exercise of the day.
+Accordingly there was no way out of it, and every afternoon I had to walk
+to the top of Beachy Head. He was very good and kind. He would invent all
+sorts of new games to beguile the tedium of the way. One very curious and
+strange trait in his character was shown on these walks. I used to be very
+fond of flowers and of animals also. A pretty dog or a hedge of
+honeysuckle were always pleasant events upon a walk to me. And yet he
+himself cared for neither flowers nor animals. Tender and kind as he was,
+simple and unassuming in all his tastes, yet he did not like flowers! I
+confess that even now I find it hard to understand. He knew children so
+thoroughly and well--perhaps better than any one else--that it is all the
+stranger that he did not care for things that generally attract them so
+much. However, be that as it may, the fact remained. When I was in
+raptures over a poppy or a dogrose, he would try hard to be as interested
+as I was, but even to my childish eyes it was an obvious effort, and he
+would always rather invent some new game for us to play at. Once, and once
+only, I remember him to have taken an interest in a flower, and that was
+because of the folk-lore that was attached to it, and not because of the
+beauty of the flower itself.
+
+We used to walk into the country that stretched, in beautiful natural
+avenues of trees, inland from Eastbourne. One day while we sat under a
+great tree, and the hum of the myriad insect life rivalled the murmur of
+the far-away waves, he took a foxglove from the heap that lay in my lap
+and told me the story of how they came by their name; how, in the old
+days, when, all over England, there were great forests, like the forest
+of Arden that Shakespeare loved, the pixies, the "little folks," used to
+wander at night in the glades, like Titania, and Oberon, and Puck, and
+because they took great pride in their dainty hands they made themselves
+gloves out of the flowers. So the particular flower that the "little
+folks" used came to be called "folks' gloves." Then, because the country
+people were rough and clumsy in their talk, the name was shortened into
+"Fox-gloves," the name that every one uses now.
+
+When I got very tired we used to sit down upon the grass, and he used to
+show me the most wonderful things made out of his handkerchief. Every one
+when a child has, I suppose, seen the trick in which a handkerchief is
+rolled up to look like a mouse, and then made to jump about by a movement
+of the hand. He did this better than any one I ever saw, and the trick was
+a never-failing joy. By a sort of consent between us the handkerchief
+trick was kept especially for the walk to Beachy Head, when, about
+half-way, I was a little tired and wanted to rest. When we actually got to
+the Head there was tea waiting in the coastguard's cottage. He always said
+I ate far too much, and he would never allow me more than one rock cake
+and a cup of tea. This was an invariable rule, and much as I wished for
+it, I was never allowed to have more than one rock cake.
+
+It was in the coastguard's house or on the grass outside that I heard most
+of his stories. Sometimes he would make excursions into the realms of pure
+romance, where there were scaly dragons and strange beasts that sat up and
+talked. In all these stories there was always an adventure in a forest,
+and the great scene of each tale always took place in a wood. The
+consummation of a story was always heralded by the phrase, "The children
+now came to a deep dark wood." When I heard that sentence, which was
+always spoken very slowly and with a solemn dropping of the voice, I
+always knew that the really exciting part was coming. I used to nestle a
+little nearer to him, and he used to hold me a little closer as he told of
+the final adventure.
+
+He did not always tell me fairy tales, though I think I liked the fairy
+tale much the best. Sometimes he gave me accounts of adventures which had
+happened to him. There was one particularly thrilling story of how he was
+lost on Beachy Head in a sea fog, and had to find his way home by means of
+boulders. This was the more interesting because we were on the actual
+scene of the disaster, and to be there stimulated the imagination.
+
+The summer afternoons on the great headland were very sweet and peaceful.
+I have never met a man so sensible to the influences of Nature as Lewis
+Carroll. When the sunset was very beautiful he was often affected by the
+sight. The widespread wrinkled sea below, in the mellow melancholy light
+of the afternoon, seemed to fit in with his temperament. I have still a
+mental picture that I can recall of him on the cliff. Just as the sun was
+setting, and a cool breeze whispered round us, he would take off his hat
+and let the wind play with his hair, and he would look out to sea. Once I
+saw tears in his eyes, and when we turned to go he gripped my hand much
+tighter than usual.
+
+
+[Illustration: MISS ISA BOWMAN AND MISS BESSIE HATTON AS THE LITTLE
+PRINCES IN THE TOWER]
+
+
+We generally got back to dinner about seven or earlier. He would never let
+me change my frock for the meal, even if we were going to a concert or
+theatre afterwards. He had a curious theory that a child should not change
+her clothes twice in one day. He himself made no alteration in his dress
+at dinner time, nor would he permit me to do so. Yet he was not by any
+means an untidy or slovenly man. He had many little fads in dress, but his
+great horror and abomination was high-heeled shoes with pointed toes. No
+words were strong enough, he thought, to describe such monstrous things.
+
+Lewis Carroll was a deeply religious man, and on Sundays at Eastbourne we
+always went twice to church. Yet he held that no child should be forced
+into church-going against its will. Such a state of mind in a child, he
+said, needed most careful treatment, and the very worst thing to do was to
+make attendance at the services compulsory. Another habit of his, which
+must, I feel sure, sound rather dreadful to many, was that, should the
+sermon prove beyond my comprehension, he would give me a little book to
+read; it was better far, he maintained, to read, than to stare idly about
+the church. When the rest of the congregation rose at the entrance of the
+choir he kept his seat. He argued that rising to one's feet at such a time
+tended to make the choir-boys conceited. I think he was quite right.
+
+He kept no special books for Sunday reading, for he was most emphatically
+of opinion that anything tending to make Sunday a day dreaded by a child
+should be studiously avoided. He did not like me to sew on Sunday unless
+it was absolutely necessary.
+
+One would have hardly expected that a man of so reserved a nature as Lewis
+Carroll would have taken much interest in the stage. Yet he was devoted to
+the theatre, and one of the commonest of the treats that he gave his
+little girl friends was to organise a party for the play. As a critic of
+acting he was naïve and outspoken, and never hesitated to find fault if he
+thought it justifiable. The following letter that he wrote to me
+criticising my acting in "Richard III." when I was playing with Richard
+Mansfield, is one of the most interesting that I ever received from him.
+Although it was written for a child to understand and profit by, and
+moreover written in the simplest possible way, it yet even now strikes me
+as a trenchant and valuable piece of criticism.
+
+
+[Illustration: ISA BOWMAN AS DUKE OF YORK]
+
+
+    "CH. CH. OXFORD,
+    "_Ap. 4, '89_.
+
+    "MY LORD DUKE,--The photographs, which Your Grace did me the honour of
+    sending arrived safely; and I can assure your Royal Highness that I am
+    very glad to have them, and like them _very_ much, particularly the
+    large head of your late Royal Uncle's little little son. I do not
+    wonder that your excellent Uncle Richard should say 'off with his
+    head!' as a hint to the photographer to print it off. Would your
+    Highness like me to go on calling you the Duke of York, or shall I say
+    'my own own darling Isa?' Which do you like best?
+
+    "Now I'm going to find fault with my pet about her acting. What's the
+    good of an old Uncle like me except to find fault?
+
+    "You do the meeting with the Prince of Wales _very_ nicely and
+    lovingly; and, in teasing your Uncle for his dagger and his sword, you
+    are very sweet and playful and--'but _that's_ not finding fault!' Isa
+    says to herself. Isn't it? Well, I'll try again. Didn't I hear you say
+    'In weightier things you'll say a _beggar_ nay,' leaning on the word
+    'beggar'? If so, it was a mistake. _My_ rule for knowing which word to
+    lean on is the word that tells you something _new_, something that is
+    _different_ from what you expected.
+
+    "Take the sentence 'first I bought a bag of apples, then I bought a
+    bag of pears,' you wouldn't say 'then I bought a _bag_ of pears.' The
+    'bag' is nothing new, because it was a bag in the first part of the
+    sentence. But the _pears_ are new, and different from the _apples_.
+    So you would say, 'then I bought a bag of _pears_.'
+
+    "Do you understand that, my pet?"
+
+    "Now what you say to Richard amounts to this, 'With light gifts you'll
+    say to a beggar "yes": with heavy gifts you'll say to a beggar "nay."'
+    The words 'you'll say to a beggar' are the same both times; so you
+    mustn't lean on any of _those_ words. But 'light' is different from
+    'heavy,' and 'yes' is different from 'nay.' So the way to say the
+    sentence would be 'with _light_ gifts you'll say to a beggar "_yes_":
+    with _heavy_ gifts you'll say to a beggar "_nay_".' And the way to say
+    the lines in the play is--
+
+        'O, then I see you will _part_ but with _light_ gifts;
+        In _weightier_ things you'll say a beggar _nay_.'
+
+    "One more sentence.
+
+    "When Richard says, 'What, would you have my _weapon_, little Lord?'
+    and you reply 'I _would_, that I might thank you as you call me,'
+    didn't I hear you pronounce 'thank' as if it were spelt with an 'e'? I
+    know it's very common (I often do it myself) to say 'thenk you!' as an
+    exclamation by itself. I suppose it's an odd way of pronouncing the
+    word. But I'm sure it's wrong to pronounce it so when it comes into a
+    _sentence_. It will sound _much_ nicer if you'll pronounce it so as to
+    rhyme with 'bank.'
+
+    "One more thing. ('What an impertinent old uncle! Always finding
+    fault!') You're not as _natural_, when acting the Duke, as you were
+    when you acted Alice. You seemed to me not to forgot _yourself_
+    enough. It was not so much a real _prince_ talking to his elder
+    brother and his uncle; it was _Isa Bowman_ talking to people she
+    didn't _much_ care about, for an audience to listen to--I don't mean
+    it was that all _through_, but _sometimes_ you were _artificial_. Now
+    don't be jealous of Miss Hatton, when I say she was _sweetly_ natural.
+    She looked and spoke like a _real_ Prince of Wales. And she didn't
+    seem to know that there was any audience. If you are ever to be a
+    _good_ actress (as I hope you will), you must learn to _forget_ 'Isa'
+    altogether, and _be_ the character you are playing. Try to think 'This
+    is _really_ the Prince of Wales. I'm his little brother, and I'm
+    _very_ glad to meet him, and I love him _very_ much,' and 'this is
+    _really_ my uncle: he's very kind, and lets me say saucy things to
+    him,' and _do_ forget that there's anybody else listening!
+
+    "My sweet pet, I _hope_ you won't be offended with me for saying what
+    I fancy might make your acting better!
+
+    "Your loving old Uncle,
+    "CHARLES.
+
+    X for NELLIE.
+    X for MAGGIE.
+    X for EMSIE.
+    X for ISA."
+
+He was a fairly constant patron of all the London theatres, save the
+Gaiety and the Adelphi, which he did not like, and numbered a good many
+theatrical folk among his acquaintances. Miss Ellen Terry was one of his
+greatest friends. Once I remember we made an expedition from Eastbourne to
+Margate to visit Miss Sarah Thorne's theatre, and especially for the
+purpose of seeing Miss Violet Vanbrugh's Ophelia. He was a great admirer
+of both Miss Violet and Miss Irene Vanbrugh as actresses. Of Miss Thorne's
+school of acting, too, he had the highest opinion, and it was his often
+expressed wish that all intending players could have so excellent a course
+of tuition. Among the male members of the theatrical profession he had no
+especial favourites, excepting Mr. Toole and Mr. Richard Mansfield.
+
+He never went to a music-hall, but considered that, properly managed, they
+might be beneficial to the public. It was only when the refrain of some
+particularly vulgar music-hall song broke upon his ears in the streets
+that he permitted himself to speak harshly about variety theatres.
+
+Comic opera, when it was wholesome, he liked, and was a frequent visitor
+to the Savoy theatre. The good old style of Pantomime, too, was a great
+delight to him, and he would often speak affectionately of the pantomimes
+at Brighton during the régime of Mr. and Mrs. Nye Chart. But of the
+up-to-date pantomime he had a horror, and nothing would induce him to
+visit one. "When pantomimes are written for children once more," he said,
+"I will go. Not till then."
+
+Once when a friend told him that she was about to take her little girls to
+the pantomime, he did not rest till he had dissuaded her.
+
+To conclude what I have said about Lewis Carroll's affection for the
+dramatic art, I will give a kind of examination paper, written for a child
+who had been learning a recitation called "The Demon of the Pit." Though
+his stuttering prevented him from being himself anything of a reciter, he
+loved correct elocution, and would take any pains to make a child
+perfect in a piece.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE PRINCES]
+
+
+First of all there is an explanatory paragraph.
+
+"As you don't ask any questions about 'The Demon of the Pit,' I suppose
+you understand it all. So please answer these questions just as you would
+do if a younger child (say Mollie) asked them."
+
+    _Mollie._ Please, Ethel, will you explain this poem to me. There are
+    some very hard words in it.
+
+    _Ethel._ What are they, dear?
+
+    _Mollie._ Well, in the first line, "If you chance to make a sally."
+    What does "sally" mean?
+
+    _Ethel._ Dear Mollie, I believe sally means to take a chance work.[2]
+
+    _Mollie._ Then, near the end of the first verse--"Whereupon she'll
+    call her cronies"--what does "whereupon" mean? And what are cronies?
+
+    _Ethel._ I think whereupon means at the same time, and cronies means
+    her favourite playfellows.
+
+    _Mollie._ "And invest in proud polonies." What's to "invest?"
+
+    _Ethel._ To invest means to spend money in anything you fancy.
+
+    _Mollie._ And what's "A woman of the day?"
+
+    _Ethel._ A woman of the day means a wonder of the time with the
+    general public.
+
+    _Mollie._ "Pyrotechnic blaze of wit." What's pyrotechnic?
+
+    _Ethel._ Mollie, I think you will find that pyrotechnic means quick,
+    with flashes of lightning.
+
+    _Mollie._ Then the 8 lines that begin "The astounding infant
+    wonder"--please explain "rôle" and "mise" and "tout ensemble" and
+    "grit."
+
+    _Ethel._ Well, Mollie, "rôle" means so many different things, but in
+    "The Demon of the Pit" I should think it meant the leading part of the
+    piece, and "mise" means something extra good introduced, and "tout"
+    means to seek for applause, but "ensemble" means the whole of the
+    parts taken together, and grit means something good.
+
+    _Mollie._ "And the Goblins prostrate tumble." What's "prostrate"?
+
+    _Ethel._ I believe prostrate means to be cast down and unhappy.
+
+    _Mollie._ "And his accents shake a bit." What are "accents"?
+
+    _Ethel._ To accent is to lay stress upon a word.
+
+    _Mollie._ "Waits resignedly behind." What's "resignedly"?
+
+    _Ethel._ Resignedly means giving up, yielding.
+
+    _Mollie._ "They have tripe as light to dream on." What does "as" mean
+    here? and what does "to dream on" mean?
+
+    _Ethel._ Mollie, dear, your last question is very funny. In the first
+    place, I have always been told that hot suppers are not good for any
+    one, and I should think that tripe would _not be light_ to dream on
+    but VERY heavy.
+
+    _Mollie._ Thank you, Ethel.
+
+I have now nearly finished my little memoir of Lewis Carroll; that is to
+say, I have written down all that I can remember of my personal knowledge
+of him. But I think it is from the letters and the diaries published in
+this book that my readers must chiefly gain an insight into the character
+of the greatest friend to children who ever lived. Not only did he study
+children's ways for his own pleasure, but he studied them in order that he
+might please them. For instance, here is a letter that he wrote to my
+little sister Nelly eight years ago, which begins on the last page and is
+written entirely backwards--a kind of variant on his famous
+"Looking-Glass" writing. You have to begin at the last word and read
+backwards before you can understand it. The only ordinary thing about it
+is the date. It begins--I mean _begins_ if one was to read it in the
+ordinary way--with the characteristic monogram, C. L. D.
+
+    "_Nov. 1, 1891._
+
+    "C. L. D., Uncle loving your! Instead grandson his to it give to had
+    you that so, years 80 or 70 for it forgot you that was it pity a what
+    and: him of fond so were you wonder don't I and, gentleman old nice
+    very a was he. For it made you that _him_ been have _must_ it see you
+    so: _grandfather_ my was, _then_ alive was that, 'Dodgson Uncle' only
+    the. Born was _I_ before long was that, see you, then But. 'Dodgson
+    Uncle for pretty thing some make I'll now,' it began you when,
+    yourself to said you that, me telling her without, knew I course of
+    and: ago years many great a it made had you said she. Me told Isa what
+    from was it? For meant was it who out made I how know you do! Lasted
+    has it well how and. Grandfather my for made had you Antimacassar
+    pretty that me give to you of nice so was it, Nelly dear my."
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+Miss Hatch has also sent me an original letter that Lewis Carroll wrote to
+her in 1873, about a large wax doll that he had given her. It is
+interesting to notice that this letter, written long before any of the
+others that he wrote to me, is identically the same in form and
+expression. It is a striking proof how fresh and unimpaired the writer's
+sympathies must have been. Year after year he retained the same sweet,
+kindly temperament, and, if anything, his love for children seemed to
+increase as he grew older.
+
+    "MY DEAR BIRDIE,--I met her just outside Tom Gate, walking very
+    stiffly, and I think she was trying to find her way to my rooms. So I
+    said, 'Why have you come here without Birdie?' So she said, 'Birdie's
+    gone! and Emily's gone! and Mabel isn't kind to me!' And two little
+    waxy tears came running down her cheeks.
+
+    "Why, how stupid of me! I've never told you who it was all the time!
+    It was your new doll. I was very glad to see her, and I took her to my
+    room, and gave her some vesta matches to eat, and a cup of nice melted
+    wax to drink, for the poor little thing was _very_ hungry and thirsty
+    after her long walk. So I said, 'Come and sit down by the fire, and
+    let's have a comfortable chat?' 'Oh no! _no_!' she said, 'I'd _much_
+    rather not. You know I do melt so _very_ easily!' And she made me take
+    her quite to the other side of the room, where it was _very_ cold: and
+    then she sat on my knee, and fanned herself with a pen-wiper, because
+    she said she was afraid the end of her nose was beginning to melt.
+
+    "'You've no _idea_ how careful we have to be,' we dolls, she said.
+    'Why, there was a sister of mine--would you believe it?--she went up
+    to the fire to warm her hands, and one of her hands dropped _right_
+    off! There now!' 'Of course it dropped _right_ off,' I said, 'because
+    it was the _right_ hand.' 'And how do you know it was the _right_
+    hand, Mister Carroll?' the doll said. So I said, 'I think it must have
+    been the _right_ hand because the other hand was _left_.'
+
+    "The doll said, 'I shan't laugh. It's a very bad joke. Why, even a
+    common wooden doll could make a better joke than that. And besides,
+    they've made my mouth so stiff and hard, that I _can't_ laugh if I try
+    ever so much?' 'Don't be cross about it,' I said, 'but tell me this:
+    I'm going to give Birdie and the other children one photograph each,
+    which ever they choose; which do you think Birdie will choose?' 'I
+    don't know,' said the doll; 'you'd better ask her!' So I took her home
+    in a hansom cab. Which would you like, do you think? Arthur as Cupid?
+    or Arthur and Wilfred together? or you and Ethel as beggar children?
+    or Ethel standing on a box? or, one of yourself?--Your affectionate
+    friend,
+
+    "LEWIS CARROLL."
+
+Among the bundle of letters and MS. before me, I find written on a half
+sheet of note-paper the following Ollendorfian dialogue. It is interesting
+because, slight and trivial as it is, it in some strange way bears the
+imprint of Lewis Carroll's style. The thing is written in the familiar
+violet ink, and neatly dated in the corner 29/9/90:--
+
+"Let's go and look at the house I want to buy. Now do be quick! You move
+so slow! What a time you take with your boots!"
+
+"Don't make such a row about it: it's not two o'clock yet. How do you like
+_this_ house?"
+
+"I don't like it. It's too far down the hill. Let's go higher. I heard a
+nice account of one at the top, built on an improved plan."
+
+"What does the rent amount to?"
+
+"Oh, the rent's all right: it's only nine pounds a year."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over all matters connected with letter writing, Lewis Carroll was
+accustomed to take great pains. All letters that he received that were of
+any interest or importance whatever he kept, putting them away in old
+biscuit tins, numbers of which he kept for the purpose.
+
+
+[Illustration: "DOLLY VARDEN"]
+
+
+In 1888 he published a little book which he called "Eight or Nine Wise
+Words about Letter Writing," and as this little book of mine is so full of
+letters, I think I can do no better than make a few extracts:--
+
+    "_Write Legibly._--The average temper of the human race would be
+    perceptibly sweeter if every one obeyed this rule! A great deal of the
+    bad writing in the world comes simply from writing too quickly. Of
+    course you reply, 'I do it to save time.' A very good object, no
+    doubt; but what right have you to do it at your friend's expense?
+    Isn't _his_ time as valuable as yours? Years ago I used to receive
+    letters from a friend--and very interesting letters too--written in
+    one of the most atrocious hands ever invented. It generally took me
+    about a _week_ to read one of his letters! I used to carry it about in
+    my pocket, and take it out at leisure times, to puzzle over the
+    riddles which composed it--holding it in different positions, and at
+    different distances, till at last the meaning of some hopeless scrawl
+    would flash upon me, when I at once wrote down the English under it;
+    and, when several had thus been guessed, the context would help one
+    with the others, till at last the whole series of hieroglyphics was
+    deciphered. If _all_ one's friends wrote like that, life would be
+    entirely spent in reading their letters."
+
+In writing the last wise word, the author no doubt had some of his girl
+correspondents in his mind's eye, for he says--
+
+    "_My Ninth Rule._--When you get to the end of a note sheet, and find
+    you have more to say, take another piece of paper--a whole sheet or a
+    scrap, as the case may demand; but, whatever you do, _don't cross_!
+    Remember the old proverb, 'Cross writing makes cross reading.' 'The
+    _old_ proverb,' you say inquiringly; 'how old?' Well, not so _very_
+    ancient, I must confess. In fact I'm afraid I invented it while
+    writing this paragraph. Still you know 'old' is a comparative term. I
+    think you would be _quite_ justified in addressing a chicken just out
+    of the shell as 'Old Boy!' _when compared_ with another chicken that
+    was only half out!"
+
+I have another diary to give to my readers, a diary that Lewis Carroll
+wrote for my sister Maggie when, a tiny child, she came to Oxford to play
+the child part, Mignon, in "Booties' Baby." He was delighted with the
+pretty play, for the interest that the soldiers took in the little lost
+girl, and how a mere interest ripened into love, till the little Mignon
+was queen of the barracks, went straight to his heart. I give the diary in
+full:--
+
+"MAGGIE'S VISIT TO OXFORD
+
+JUNE 9 TO 13, 1899
+
+  When Maggie once to Oxford came
+    On tour as 'Booties' Baby,'
+  She said 'I'll see this place of fame,
+    However dull the day be!'
+
+  So with her friend she visited
+    The sights that it was rich in:
+  And first of all she poked her head
+    Inside the Christ Church Kitchen.
+
+  The cooks around that little child
+    Stood waiting in a ring:
+  And, every time that Maggie smiled,
+    Those cooks began to sing--
+    Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Roast, boil, and bake,
+      For Maggie's sake!
+      Bring cutlets fine,
+      For _her_ to dine:
+      Meringues so sweet,
+      For _her_ to eat--
+      For Maggie may be
+      Bootles' Baby!'
+
+  Then hand-in-hand, in pleasant talk,
+    They wandered, and admired
+  The Hall, Cathedral, and Broad Walk,
+    Till Maggie's feet were tired:
+
+  One friend they called upon--her name
+    Was Mrs. Hassall--then
+  Into a College Room they came,
+    Some savage Monster's Den!
+
+  'And, when that Monster dined, I guess
+    He tore her limb from limb?'
+  Well, no: in fact, I must confess
+    That _Maggie dined with him_!
+
+  To Worcester Garden next they strolled--
+    Admired its quiet lake:
+  Then to St. John's, a College old,
+    Their devious way they take.
+
+  In idle mood they sauntered round
+    Its lawns so green and flat:
+  And in that Garden Maggie found
+    A lovely Pussey-Cat!
+
+  A quarter of an hour they spent
+    In wandering to and fro:
+  And everywhere that Maggie went,
+    That Cat was sure to go--
+    Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Miaow! Miaow!
+      Come, make your bow!
+      Take off your hats,
+      Ye Pussy Cats!
+      And purr, and purr,
+      To welcome _her_--
+      For Maggie may be
+      Bootles' Baby!'
+
+  So back to Christ Church--not too late
+    For them to go and see
+  A Christ Church Undergraduate,
+    Who gave them cakes and tea.
+
+  Next day she entered, with her guide,
+    The Garden called 'Botanic':
+  And there a fierce Wild-Boar she spied,
+    Enough to cause a panic!
+
+  But Maggie didn't mind, not she!
+    She would have faced _alone_,
+  That fierce Wild-Boar, because, you see,
+    The thing was made of stone!
+
+  On Magdalen walls they saw a face
+    That filled her with delight,
+  A giant-face, that made grimace
+    And grinned with all its might!
+
+  A little friend, industrious,
+    Pulled upwards, all the while,
+  The corner of its mouth, and thus
+    He helped that face to smile!
+
+  'How nice,' thought Maggie, 'it would be
+    If _I_ could have a friend
+  To do that very thing for _me_,
+  And make my mouth turn up with glee,
+    By pulling at one end!'
+
+  In Magdalen Park the deer are wild
+    With joy that Maggie brings
+  Some bread a friend had given the child,
+    To feed the pretty things.
+
+  They flock round Maggie without fear:
+    They breakfast and they lunch,
+  They dine, they sup, those happy deer--
+    Still, as they munch and munch,
+    Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Yes, Deer are we,
+      And dear is she!
+      We love this child
+      So sweet and mild:
+      We all rejoice
+      At Maggie's voice:
+      We all are fed
+      With Maggie's bread--
+      For Maggie may be
+      Bootles' Baby!'
+
+  To Pembroke College next they go,
+    Where little Maggie meets
+  The Master's wife and daughter: so
+    Once more into the streets.
+
+  They met a Bishop on their way--
+    A Bishop large as life--
+  With loving smile that seemed to say
+    'Will Maggie be my wife?'
+
+  Maggie thought _not_, because, you see,
+    She was so _very_ young,
+  And he was old as old could be--
+    So Maggie held her tongue.
+
+  'My Lord, she's _Bootles' Baby_: we
+    Are going up and down,'
+  Her friend explained, 'that she may see
+    The sights of Oxford-town.'
+
+  'Now say what kind of place it is!'
+    The Bishop gaily cried.
+  'The best place in the Provinces!'
+    That little maid replied.
+
+  Next to New College, where they saw
+    Two players hurl about
+  A hoop, but by what rule or law
+    They could not quite make out.
+
+  'Ringo' the Game is called, although
+    'Les Graces' was once its name,
+  When _it_ was--as its name will show--
+    A much more _graceful_ Game.
+
+  The Misses Symonds next they sought,
+    Who begged the child to take
+  A book they long ago had bought--
+    A gift for friendship's sake!
+
+  Away, next morning, Maggie went
+    From Oxford-town: but yet
+  The happy hours she there had spent
+    She could not soon forget.
+
+  The train is gone: it rumbles on:
+    The engine-whistle screams:
+  But Maggie's deep in rosy sleep--
+    And softly, in her dreams,
+    Whispers the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Oxford, good-bye!'
+      She seems to sigh,
+      'You dear old City,
+      With Gardens pretty,
+      And lawns, and flowers,
+      And College-towers,
+      And Tom's great Bell--
+      Farewell, farewell!
+      For Maggie may be
+      Booties' Baby!'
+
+                    --LEWIS CARROLL."
+
+
+[Illustration: "A TURK"]
+
+
+The tale has been often told of how "Alice in Wonderland" came to be
+written, but it is a tale so well worth the telling again, that, very
+shortly, I will give it to you here.
+
+Years ago in the great quadrangle of Christ Church, opposite to Mr.
+Dodgson, lived the little daughters of Dean Liddell, the great Greek
+scholar and Dean of Christ Church. The little girls were great friends of
+Mr. Dodgson's, and they used often to come to him and to plead with him
+for a fairy tale. There was never such a teller of tales, they thought!
+One can imagine the whole delightful scene with little trouble. That big
+cool room on some summer's afternoon, when the air was heavy with flower
+scents, and the sounds that came floating in through the open window were
+all mellowed by the distance. One can see him, that good and kindly
+gentleman, his mobile face all aglow with interest and love, telling the
+immortal story.
+
+Round him on his knee sat the little sisters, their eyes wide open and
+their lips parted in breathless anticipation. When Alice (how the little
+Alice Liddell who was listening must have loved the tale!) rubbed the
+mushroom and became so big that she quite filled the little fairy house,
+one can almost hear the rapturous exclamations of the little ones as they
+heard of it.
+
+The story, often continued on many summer afternoons, sometimes in the
+cool Christ Church rooms, sometimes in a slow gliding boat in a still
+river between banks of rushes and strange bronze and yellow waterflowers,
+or sometimes in a great hay-field, with the insects whispering in the
+grass all round, grew in its conception and idea.
+
+Other folk, older folk, came to hear of it from the little ones, and Mr.
+Dodgson was begged to write it down. Accordingly the first MS. was
+prepared with great care and illustrated by the author. Then, in 1865,
+memorable year for English children, "Alice" appeared in its present form,
+with Sir John Tenniel's drawings.
+
+In 1872 "Alice Through the Looking-Glass," appeared, and was received as
+warmly as its predecessor. That fact, I think, proves most conclusively
+that Lewis Carroll's success was a success of absolute merit, and due to
+no mere mood or fashion of the public taste. I can conceive nothing more
+difficult for a man who has had a great success with one book than to
+write a sequel which should worthily succeed it. In the present case that
+is exactly what Lewis Carroll did. "Through the Looking-Glass" is every
+whit as popular and charming as the older book. Indeed one depends very
+much upon the other, and in every child's book-shelves one sees the two
+masterpieces side by side.
+
+
+[Illustrations: Facsimile:
+
+B.H.
+
+from C. L. D.
+
+
+A CHARADE.
+
+[NB FIVE POUNDS will be given to any one who succeeds in writing an
+original poetical Charade, introducing the line "My First is followed by a
+bird," but making no use of the answer to this Charade.
+
+Ap 8 1878
+
+(signed)
+
+Lewis Carroll]
+
+  My First is a singular at best
+    More plural is my Second.
+  My Third is far the pluralest--
+  So plural-plural, I protest,
+    It scarcely can be reckoned!
+
+  My First is followed by a bird
+    My Second by believers
+  In magic art: my simple Third
+  Follows, too often, hopes absurd,
+    And plausible deceivers.
+
+  My First to get at wisdom tries--
+    A failure melancholy!
+  My Second men revere as wise:
+  My Third from heights of wisdom fall
+    To depths of frantic folly!
+
+  My First is ageing day by day,
+    My Second's age is ended.
+  My Third enjoys an age, they say,
+  That never seems to fade away,
+    Through centuries extended!
+
+  My Whole? I need a Poet's pen
+    To paint her myriad phases
+  The monarch, and the slave, of men--
+  A mountain-summit, and a den
+    Of dark and deadly mazes!
+
+  A flashing light--a fleeting shade--
+    Beginning, end, and middle
+  Of all that human art hath made,
+  Or wit devised "Go, seek her aid,
+    If you would guess my riddle."]
+
+
+While on the subject of the two "Alices," I will put in a letter that he
+wrote mentioning his books. He was so modest about them, that it was
+extremely difficult to get him to say, or write, anything at all about
+them. I believe it was a far greater pleasure for him to know that he had
+pleased some child with "Alice" or "The Hunting of the Snark," than it was
+to be hailed by the press and public as the first living writer for
+children.
+
+    "EASTBOURNE.
+
+    "MY OWN DARLING ISA,--The full value of a copy of the French 'Alice'
+    is £45: but, as you want the 'cheapest' kind, and as you are a great
+    friend of mine, and as I am of a very noble, generous disposition, I
+    have made up my mind to a _great_ sacrifice, and have taken £3, 10s.
+    0d. off the price. So that you do not owe me more than £41, 10s. 0d.,
+    and this you can pay me, in gold or bank-notes _as soon as you ever
+    like_. Oh dear! I wonder why I write such nonsense! Can you explain to
+    me, my pet, how it happens that when I take up my pen to write a
+    letter to _you_ it won't write sense? Do you think the rule is that
+    when the pen finds it has to write to a nonsensical good-for-nothing
+    child, it sets to work to write a nonsensical good-for-nothing letter?
+    Well, now I'll tell you the real truth. As Miss Kitty Wilson is a
+    dear friend of yours, of course she's a _sort_ of a friend of mine. So
+    I thought (in my vanity) 'perhaps she would like to have a copy' from
+    the author, 'with her name written in it.' So I've sent her one--but I
+    hope she'll understand that I do it because she's _your_ friend, for,
+    you see, I had never _heard_ of her before: so I wouldn't have any
+    other reason.
+
+    "I'm still exactly 'on the balance' (like those scales of mine, when
+    Nellie says 'it won't weigh!') as to whether it would be wise to have
+    my pet Isa down here! how _am_ I to make it weigh, I wonder? Can you
+    advise any way to do it? I'm getting on grandly with 'Sylvie and Bruno
+    Concluded.' I'm afraid you'll expect me to give you a copy of it?
+    Well, I'll see if I have one to spare. It won't be out before
+    Easter-tide, I'm afraid.
+
+    "I wonder what sort of condition the book is in that I lent you to
+    take to America? ('Laneton Parsonage,' I mean). Very shabby, I expect.
+    I find lent books _never_ come back in good condition. However, I've
+    got a second copy of this book, so you may keep it as your own. Love
+    and kisses to any one you know who is lovely and kissable.--
+
+    "Always your loving Uncle,
+    "C. L. D."
+
+In 1876 appeared the long poem called the "Hunting of the Snark; or, An
+Agony in Eight Fits," and besides those verses we have from Lewis
+Carroll's pen two books called "Phantasmagoria" and "Rhyme and Reason."
+
+The last work of his that attained any great celebrity was "Sylvie and
+Bruno," a curious romance, half fairy tale, half mathematical treatise.
+Mr. Dodgson was employed of late years on his "Symbolic Logic," only one
+part of which has been published, and he seems to have been influenced by
+his studies. One can easily trace the trail of the logician in Sylvie and
+Bruno, and perhaps this resulted in a certain lack of "form." However,
+some of the nonsense verses in this book were up to the highest level of
+the author's achievement. Even as I write the verse comes to me--
+
+  "He thought he saw a kangaroo
+  Turning a coffee-mill;
+  He looked again, and found it was
+  A vegetable pill!
+  'Were I to swallow you,' he said,
+  'I should be very ill'!"
+
+The fascinating jingle stays in the memory when graver verse eludes all
+effort at recollection. I personally could repeat "The Walrus and the
+Carpenter" from beginning to end without hesitation, but I should find a
+difficulty in writing ten lines of "Hamlet" correctly.
+
+At the beginning of "Sylvie and Bruno" is a little poem in three verses
+which forms an acrostic on my name. I quote it--
+
+  "Is all our life, then, but a dream,
+  Seen faintly in the golden gleam
+  Athwart Time's dark resistless stream?
+
+  Bowed to the earth with bitter woe,
+  Or laughing at some raree-show,
+  We flutter idly to and fro.
+
+  Man's little day in haste we spend,
+  And, from its merry noontide, send
+  No glance to meet the silent end."
+
+You see that if you take the first letter of each line, or if you take the
+first three letters of the first line of each verse, you get the name Isa
+Bowman.
+
+
+[Illustration: Facsimile:
+
+Prologue
+
+[Enter Beatrice, leading Wilfred She leaves him to centre (front) & after
+going round on tip-toe to make sure they are not overheard returns & takes
+his arm.]
+
+  B. "Wiffie! I'm sure that something is the matter!
+  All day there's been--oh such a fuss and clatter!
+  Mamma's been trying on a funny dress--
+  I never =saw= the house in such a mess!
+  (puts her arm round his neck)
+  Is there a secret, Wiffie?"
+
+  W. (Shaking her off) "yes, of course!"
+
+  B. "And you won't tell it? (whispers) Then you're very cross!
+  (turns away from, & clasps her hands, looking up ecstatically)
+  I'm sure of =this=! It's something =quite= uncommon!"
+
+  W. (stretching up his arms with a mock-heroic air)
+  "Oh, Curiosity! Thy name is Woman!
+  (puts his arm round her coaxingly)
+  Well, Birdie, then I'll tell. (mysteriously) What should you say
+  If they were going to act--a little play?"
+
+  B. (jumping and clapping her hands)
+  "I'd say '=How nice=!'"
+
+  W. (pointing to audience)
+  "But will it please the rest?"
+
+  B. "Oh =yes=! Because, you know, they'll do their best!
+  [turns to audience]
+  "You'll praise them, won't you, when you've seen the play?
+  Just say '=How nice=!' before you go away!"
+  [they run away hand in hand].
+
+  Feb 14. 1873.]
+
+
+Although he never wrote anything in the dramatic line, he once wrote a
+prologue for some private theatricals, which was to be spoken by Miss
+Hatch and her brother. This prologue is reproduced in facsimile on the
+preceding page.
+
+Miss Hatch has also sent me a charade (reproduced on pp. 108-10) which he
+wrote for her, and illustrated with some of his funny drawings.
+
+I have one more letter, the last, which, as it mentions the book "Sylvie
+and Bruno," I will give now.
+
+    "CHRIST CHURCH,
+    "_May 16, '90_.
+
+    "DEAREST ISA,--I had this ('this' was 'Sylvie and Bruno') bound for
+    you when the book first came out, and it's been waiting here ever
+    since Dec. 17, for I really didn't dare to send it across the
+    Atlantic--the whales are so inconsiderate. They'd have been sure to
+    want to borrow it to show to the little whales, quite forgetting that
+    the salt water would be sure to spoil it.
+
+    "Also, I've only been waiting for you to get back to send Emsie the
+    'Nursery Alice.' I give it to the youngest in a family generally; but
+    I've given one to Maggie as well, because she travels about so much,
+    and I thought she would like to have one to take with her. I hope
+    Nellie's eyes won't get _quite_ green with jealousy, at two (indeed
+    _three_!) of her sisters getting presents, and nothing for her! I've
+    nothing but my love to send her to-day: but she shall have _something
+    some_ day.--Ever your loving
+
+    "UNCLE CHARLES."
+
+Socially, Lewis Carroll was of strong conservative tendencies. He viewed
+with wonder and a little pain the absolute levelling tendencies of the
+last few years of his life. I have before me an extremely interesting
+letter which deals with social observances, and from which I am able to
+make one or two extracts. The bulk of the letter is of a private nature.
+
+    "Ladies have 'to be _much_' more particular than gentlemen in
+    observing the distinctions of what is called 'social position': and
+    the _lower_ their own position is (in the scale of 'lady' ship), the
+    more jealous they seem to be in guarding it.... I've met with just the
+    same thing myself from people several degrees above me. Not long ago I
+    was staying in a house along with a young lady (about twenty years
+    old, I should think) with a title of her own, as she was an earl's
+    daughter. I happened to sit next her at dinner, and every time I
+    spoke to her, she looked at me more as if she was looking down on me
+    from about a mile up in the air, and as if she were saying to herself
+    'How _dare_ you speak to _me_! Why, you're not good enough to black my
+    shoes!' It was so unpleasant, that, next day at luncheon, I got as far
+    off her as I could!
+
+    "Of course we are all _quite_ equal in God's sight, but we _do_ make a
+    lot of distinctions (some of them quite unmeaning) among ourselves!"
+
+The picture that this letter gives of the famous writer and learned
+mathematician obviously rather in terror of some pert young lady fresh
+from the schoolroom is not without its comic side. One cannot help
+imagining that the girl must have been very young indeed, for if he were
+alive to-day there are few ladies of any state who would not feel honoured
+by the presence of Charles Dodgson.
+
+However, he was not always so unfortunate in his experience of great
+people, and the following letter, written when he was staying with Lord
+Salisbury at Hatfield House, tells delightfully of his little royal
+friends, the Duchess of Albany's children:
+
+    "HATFIELD HOUSE, HATFIELD,
+    "HERTS, _June 8, '89_."
+
+    "MY DARLING ISA,--I hope this will find you, but I haven't yet had any
+    letter from _Fulham_, so I can't be sure if you have yet got into your
+    new house.
+
+    "This is Lord Salisbury's house (he is the father, you know, of that
+    Lady Maud Wolmer that we had luncheon with): I came yesterday, and I'm
+    going to stay until Monday. It is such a nice house to stay in! They
+    let one do just as one likes--it isn't 'Now you must do some
+    geography! now it's time for your sums!' the sort of life _some_
+    little girls have to lead when they are so foolish as to visit
+    friends--but one can just please one's own dear self.
+
+    "There are some sweet little children staying in the house. Dear
+    little 'Wang' is here with her mother. By the way, _I_ made a mistake
+    in telling you what to call her. She is 'the Honourable Mabel
+    _Palmer_'--'Palmer' is the family name: 'Wolmer' is the _title_, just
+    as the _family_ name of Lord Salisbury is 'Cecil,' so that his
+    daughter was Lady Maud Cecil, till she married.
+
+    "Then there is the Duchess of Albany here, with two such sweet little
+    children. She is the widow of Prince Leopold (the Queen's youngest
+    son), so her children are a Prince and Princess: the girl is 'Alice,'
+    but I don't know the boy's Christian name: they call him 'Albany,'
+    because he is the Duke of Albany. Now that I have made friends with a
+    real live little Princess, I don't intend ever to _speak_ to any more
+    children that haven't any titles. In fact, I'm so proud, and I hold my
+    chin so high, that I shouldn't even _see_ you if we met! No, darlings,
+    you mustn't believe _that_. If I made friends with a _dozen_
+    Princesses, I would love you better than all of them together, even if
+    I had them all rolled up into a sort of child-roly-poly.
+
+    "Love to Nellie and Emsie.--Your ever loving Uncle,
+
+    "C. L. D."
+    X X X X X X X
+
+And now I think that I have done all that has been in my power to present
+Lewis Carroll to you in his most delightful aspect--as a friend to
+children. I have not pretended in any way to write an exhaustive
+life-story of the man who was so dear to me, but by the aid of the letters
+and the diaries that I have been enabled to publish, and by the few
+reminiscences that I have given you of Lewis Carroll as I knew him, I hope
+I have done something to bring still nearer to your hearts the memory of
+the greatest friend that children ever had.
+
+
+
+
+Footnotes:
+
+[1] This refers to my visit to America when, as a child, I played the
+little Duke of York in "Richard III."
+
+[2] At this point the real child's answers begin, the three or four lines
+alone were written by Mr. Dodgson himself.--ED.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.
+
+Underlined passages are indicated by =underline=.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Lewis Carroll, by Isa Bowman
+
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Story of Lewis Carroll, by Isa Bowman.
+    </title>
+
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+    p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;}
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+    body {margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%;}
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+    .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; font-style: normal;}
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+    .u {text-decoration: underline;}
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Lewis Carroll, by Isa Bowman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Story of Lewis Carroll
+       Told for Young People by the Real Alice in Wonderland
+
+Author: Isa Bowman
+
+Release Date: April 29, 2011 [EBook #35990]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF LEWIS CARROLL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Miss Isa Bowman as Alice in &#8220;Alice in Wonderland&#8221;</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class="big">THE STORY OF</span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="giant">LEWIS CARROLL</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">TOLD FOR YOUNG PEOPLE BY</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="big">THE REAL ALICE IN WONDERLAND</span></p>
+<p class="center">MISS ISA BOWMAN</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>WITH A DIARY AND NUMEROUS<br />
+FACSIMILE LETTERS WRITTEN TO<br />
+<span class="huge">MISS ISA BOWMAN</span> AND<br />
+OTHERS. ALSO MANY SKETCHES<br />
+AND PHOTOS BY LEWIS CARROLL<br />
+AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS.<img src="images/title.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr></table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title2.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />E. P. DUTTON &amp; COMPANY<br />
+<span class="smcap">31 West Twenty-third Street</span><br />1900</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1899<br />
+BY<br />E. P. DUTTON &amp; CO.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">The Knickerbocker Press, New York</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table">
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Miss Isa Bowman (in Photogravure)</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll&#8217;s Room in Oxford</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">C. L. Dodgson</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Chinaman</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Beggar Children</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">St. George and the Dragon</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll&#8217;s House at Eastbourne</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Miss Isa Bowman and Miss Bessie Hatton as the Little Princes in the Tower</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Isa Bowman as Duke of York</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Miss Isa Bowman as &#8220;Alice in Wonderland&#8221; (in Photogravure)</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#frontis">80</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Little Princes</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Dolly Varden</span>&#8221;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&#8220;<span class="smcap">A Turk</span>&#8221;</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Facsimile of a Charade</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108-109-110</a></td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<h2>LEWIS CARROLL</h2>
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">It</span> seems to me a very difficult task to sit down at a desk and write
+&#8220;reminiscences&#8221; of a friend who has gone from us all.</p>
+
+<p>It is not easy to make an effort and to remember all the little personalia
+of some one one has loved very much, and by whom one has been loved. And
+yet it is in a measure one&#8217;s duty to tell the world something of the inner
+life of a famous man; and Lewis Carroll was so wonderful a personality,
+and so good a man, that if my pen dragged ever so slowly, I feel that I
+can at least tell something of his life which is worthy the telling.</p>
+
+<p>Writing with the sense of his loss still heavy upon me, I must of
+necessity colour my account with sadness. I am not in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> ordinary sense
+a biographer. I cannot set down a critical estimate, a cold, dispassionate
+summing-up of a man I loved; but I can write of a few things that happened
+when I was a little girl, and when he used to say to me that I was &#8220;<i>his</i>
+little girl.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The gracious presence of Lewis Carroll is with us no longer. Never again
+will his hand hold mine, and I shall never hear his voice more in this
+world. Forever while I live that kindly influence will be gone from my
+life, and the &#8220;Friend of little Children&#8221; has left us.</p>
+
+<p>And yet in the full sorrow of it all I find some note of comfort. He was
+so good and sweet, so tender and kind, so certain that there was another
+and more beautiful life waiting for us, that I know, even as if I heard
+him telling it to me, that some time I shall meet him once more.</p>
+
+<p>In all the noise and excitement of London, amid all the distractions of a
+stage life, I know this, and his presence is often very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> near to me, and
+the kindly voice is often at my ear as it was in the old days.</p>
+
+<p>To have even known such a man as he was is an inestimable boon. To have
+been with him for so long as a child, to have known so intimately the man
+who above all others has understood childhood, is indeed a memory on which
+to look back with thanksgiving and with tears.</p>
+
+<p>Now that I am no longer &#8220;his little girl,&#8221; now that he is dead and my life
+is so different from the quiet life he led, I can yet feel the old charm,
+I can still be glad that he has kissed me and that we were friends. Little
+girl and grave professor! it is a strange combination. Grave professor and
+little girl! how curious it sounds! yet strange and curious as it may
+seem, it was so, and the little girl, now a little girl no longer, offers
+this last loving tribute to the friend and teacher she loved so well.
+Forever that voice is still; be it mine to revive some ancient memories of
+it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>First, however, as I have essayed to be some sort of a biographer, I feel
+that before I let my pen run easily over the tale of my intimate knowledge
+of Lewis Carroll I must put down very shortly some facts about his life.</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson died when he was sixty-six years old,
+and when his famous book, &#8220;Alice in Wonderland,&#8221; had been published for
+thirty-three years. He was born at Daresbury, in Cheshire, and his father
+was the Rev. Charles Dodgson. The first years of his life were spent at
+Daresbury, but afterwards the family went to live at a place called Croft,
+in Yorkshire. He went first to a private school in Yorkshire and then to
+Rugby, where he spent years that he always remembered as very happy ones.
+In 1850 he went to Christ Church, Oxford, and from that time till the year
+of his death he was inseparably connected with &#8220;The House,&#8221; as Christ
+Church college is generally called, from its Latin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> name &#8220;&AElig;des Christi,&#8221;
+which means, literally translated, the House of Christ.</p>
+
+<p>There he won great distinction as a scholar of mathematics, and wrote many
+abstruse and learned books, very different from &#8220;Alice in Wonderland.&#8221;
+There is a tale that when the Queen had read &#8220;Alice in Wonderland&#8221; she was
+so pleased that she asked for more books by the same author. Lewis Carroll
+was written to, and back, with the name of Charles Dodgson on the
+title-page, came a number of the very dryest books about Algebra and
+Euclid that you can imagine.</p>
+
+<p>Still, even in mathematics his whimsical fancy was sometimes suffered to
+peep out, and little girls who learnt the rudiments of calculation at his
+knee found the path they had imagined so thorny set about with roses by
+reason of the delightful fun with which he would turn a task into a joy.
+But when the fun was over the little girl would find that she had learnt
+the lesson (all unknowingly)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> just the same. Happy little girls who had
+such a master. The old rhyme&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Multiplication is vexation,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Division is as bad,</span><br />
+The rule of three doth puzzle me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Practice drives me mad,&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>would never need to have been written had all arithmetic lessons been like
+the arithmetic lessons given by Charles Dodgson to his little friends.</p>
+
+<p>As a lecturer to his grown-up pupils he was also surprisingly lucid, and
+under his deft treatment the knottiest of problems were quickly smoothed
+out and made easy for his hearers to comprehend. &#8220;I always hated
+mathematics at school,&#8221; an ex-pupil of his told me a little while ago,
+&#8220;but when I went up to Oxford I learnt from Mr. Dodgson to look upon my
+mathematics as the most delightful of all my studies. His lectures were
+never dry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For twenty-six years he lectured at Oxford, finally giving up his post in
+1881.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> From that time to the time of his death he remained in his college,
+taking no actual part in the tuition, but still enjoying the Fellowship
+that he had won in 1861.</p>
+
+<p>This is an official account, a brief sketch of an intensely interesting
+life. It tells little save that Lewis Carroll was a clever mathematician
+and a sympathetic teacher; it shall be my work to present him as he was
+from a more human point of view.</p>
+
+<p>Lewis Carroll was a man of medium height. When I knew him his hair was a
+silver-grey, rather longer than it was the fashion to wear, and his eyes
+were a deep blue. He was clean shaven, and, as he walked, always seemed a
+little unsteady in his gait. At Oxford he was a well-known figure. He was
+a little eccentric in his clothes. In the coldest weather he would never
+wear an overcoat, and he had a curious habit of always wearing, in all
+seasons of the year, a pair of grey and black cotton gloves.</p>
+
+<p>But for the whiteness of his hair it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> difficult to tell his age from
+his face, for there were no wrinkles on it. He had a curiously womanish
+face, and, in direct contradiction to his real character, there seemed to
+be little strength in it. One reads a great deal about the lines that a
+man&#8217;s life paints in his face, and there are many people who believe that
+character is indicated by the curves of flesh and bone. I do not, and
+never shall, believe it is true, and Lewis Carroll is only one of many
+instances to support my theory. He was as firm and self-contained as a man
+may be, but there was little to show it in his face.</p>
+
+<p>Yet you could easily discern it in the way in which he met and talked with
+his friends. When he shook hands with you&mdash;he had firm white hands, rather
+large&mdash;his grip was strong and steadfast. Every one knows the kind of man
+of whom it is said &#8220;his hands were all soft and flabby when he said,
+&#8216;How-do-you-do.&#8217;&#8221; Well, Lewis Carroll was not a bit like that. Every one
+says when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> shook your hand the pressure of his was full of strength,
+and you felt here indeed was a man to admire and to love. The expression
+in his eyes was also very kind and charming.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img01.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">LEWIS CARROLL&#8217;S ROOM IN OXFORD IN WHICH &#8220;ALICE IN WONDERLAND&#8221; WAS WRITTEN</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>He used to look at me, when we met, in the very tenderest, gentlest way.
+Of course on an ordinary occasion I knew that his interested glance did
+not mean anything of any extra importance. Nothing could have happened
+since I had seen him last, yet, at the same time, his look was always so
+deeply sympathetic and benevolent that one could hardly help feeling it
+meant a great deal more than the expression of the ordinary man.</p>
+
+<p>He was afflicted with what I believe is known as &#8220;Housemaid&#8217;s knee,&#8221; and
+this made his movements singularly jerky and abrupt. Then again he found
+it impossible to avoid stammering in his speech. He would, when engaged in
+an animated conversation with a friend, talk quickly and well for a few
+minutes, and then suddenly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> without any very apparent cause would
+begin to stutter so much, that it was often difficult to understand him.
+He was very conscious of this impediment, and he tried hard to cure
+himself. For several years he read a scene from some play of Shakespeare&#8217;s
+every day aloud, but despite this he was never quite able to cure himself
+of the habit. Many people would have found this a great hindrance to the
+affairs of ordinary life, and would have felt it deeply. Lewis Carroll was
+different. His mind and life were so simple and open that there was no
+room in them for self-consciousness, and I have often heard him jest at
+his own misfortune, with a comic wonder at it.</p>
+
+<p>The personal characteristic that you would notice most on meeting Lewis
+Carroll was his extreme shyness. With children, of course, he was not
+nearly so reserved, but in the society of people of maturer age he was
+almost old-maidishly prim in his manner. When he knew a child well this
+reserve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> would vanish completely, but it needed only a slightly
+disconcerting incident to bring the cloak of shyness about him once more,
+and close the lips that just before had been talking so delightfully.</p>
+
+<p>I shall never forget one afternoon when we had been walking in Christ
+Church meadows. On one side of the great open space the little river
+Cherwell runs through groves of trees towards the Isis, where the college
+boat-races are rowed. We were going quietly along by the side of the
+&#8220;Cher,&#8221; when he began to explain to me that the tiny stream was a
+tributary, &#8220;a baby river&#8221; he put it, of the big Thames. He talked for some
+minutes, explaining how rivers came down from hills and flowed eventually
+to the sea, when he suddenly met a brother Don at a turning in the avenue.</p>
+
+<p>He was holding my hand and giving me my lesson in geography with great
+earnestness when the other man came round the corner.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img02.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">C. L. DODGSON</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>He greeted him in answer to his salutation, but the incident disturbed his
+train of thought, and for the rest of the walk he became very difficult to
+understand, and talked in a nervous and preoccupied manner. One strange
+way in which his nervousness affected him was peculiarly characteristic.
+When, owing to the stupendous success of &#8220;Alice in Wonderland&#8221; and &#8220;Alice
+Through the Looking-Glass,&#8221; he became a celebrity many people were anxious
+to see him, and in some way or other to find out what manner of man he
+was. This seemed to him horrible, and he invented a mild deception for use
+when some autograph-hunter or curious person sent him a request for his
+signature on a photograph, or asked him some silly question as to the
+writing of one of his books, how long it took to write, and how many
+copies had been sold. Through some third person he always represented that
+Lewis Carroll the author and Mr. Dodgson the professor were two distinct
+persons, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> that the author could not be heard of at Oxford at all. On
+one occasion an American actually wrote to say that he had heard that
+Lewis Carroll had laid out a garden to represent some of the scenes in
+&#8220;Alice in Wonderland,&#8221; and that he (the American) was coming right away to
+take photographs of it. Poor Lewis Carroll, he was in terror of Americans
+for a week!</p>
+
+<p>Of being photographed he had a horror, and despite the fact that he was
+continually and importunately requested to sit before the camera, only
+very few photographs of him are in existence. Yet he had been himself a
+great amateur photographer, and had taken many pictures that were
+remarkable in their exact portraiture of the subject.</p>
+
+<p>It was this exactness that he used to pride himself on in his camera work.
+He always said that modern professional photographers spoilt all their
+pictures by touching them up absurdly to flatter the sitter. When it was
+necessary for me to have some pictures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> taken he sent me to Mr. H. H.
+Cameron, whom he declared to be the only artist who dared to produce a
+photograph that was exactly like its subject. This is one of the
+photographs of me that Mr. Cameron took, and Lewis Carroll always declared
+that it was a perfect specimen of portrait work.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the photographs of children in this book are Lewis Carroll&#8217;s work.
+Miss Beatrice Hatch, to whose kindness I am indebted for these photographs
+and for much interesting information, writes in the <i>Strand Magazine</i>
+(April 1898):</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">&#8220;My earliest recollections of Mr. Dodgson are connected with
+photography. He was very fond of this art at one time, though he had
+entirely given it up for many years latterly. He kept various costumes
+and &#8216;properties&#8217; with which to dress us up, and, of course, that added
+to the fun. What child would not thoroughly enjoy personating a
+Japanese or a beggar child, or a gipsy or an Indian? Sometimes there
+were excursions to the roof of the college, which was easily
+accessible from the windows of the studio. Or you might stand by your
+friend&#8217;s side in the tiny dark room and watch him while he poured the
+contents of several little strong-smelling bottles on to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>glass
+picture of yourself that looked so funny with its black face.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img03.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">A CHINAMAN</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Yet, despite his love for the photographer&#8217;s art, he hated the idea of
+having his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> own picture taken for the benefit of a curious world. The
+shyness that made him nervous in the presence of strangers made the idea
+that any one who cared to stare into a shop window could examine and
+criticise his portrait extremely repulsive to him.</p>
+
+<p>I remember that this shyness of his was the only occasion of anything
+approaching a quarrel between us.</p>
+
+<p>I had an idle trick of drawing caricatures when I was a child, and one day
+when he was writing some letters I began to make a picture of him on the
+back of an envelope. I quite forget what the drawing was like&mdash;probably it
+was an abominable libel&mdash;but suddenly he turned round and saw what I was
+doing. He got up from his seat and turned very red, frightening me very
+much. Then he took my poor little drawing, and tearing it into small
+pieces threw it into the fire without a word. Afterwards he came suddenly
+to me, and saying nothing, caught me up in his arms and kissed me
+passionately.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> I was only some ten or eleven years of age at the time, but
+now the incident comes back to me very clearly, and I can see it as if it
+happened but yesterday&mdash;the sudden snatching of my picture, the hurried
+striding across the room, and then the tender light in his face as he
+caught me up to him and kissed me.</p>
+
+<p>I used to see a good deal of him at Oxford, and I was constantly in Christ
+Church. He would invite me to stay with him and find me rooms just outside
+the college gates, where I was put into charge of an elderly dame, whose
+name, if I do not forget, was Mrs. Buxall. I would spend long happy days
+with my uncle, and at nine o&#8217;clock I was taken over to the little house in
+St. Aldates and delivered into the hands of the landlady, who put me to
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning I was awakened by the deep reverberations of &#8220;Great Tom&#8221;
+calling Oxford to wake and begin the new day. Those times were very
+pleasant, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> remembrance of them lingers with me still. Lewis
+Carroll at the time of which I am speaking had two tiny turret rooms, one
+on each side of his staircase in Christ Church. He always used to tell me
+that when I grew up and became married he would give me the two little
+rooms, so that if I ever disagreed with my husband we could each of us
+retire to a turret till we had made up our quarrel!</p>
+
+<p>And those rooms of his! I do not think there was ever such a fairy-land
+for children. I am sure they must have contained one of the finest
+collections of musical-boxes to be found anywhere in the world. There were
+big black ebony boxes with glass tops through which you could see all the
+works. There was a big box with a handle, which it was quite hard exercise
+for a little girl to turn, and there must have been twenty or thirty
+little ones which could only play one tune. Sometimes one of the
+musical-boxes would not play properly, and then I always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> got tremendously
+excited. Uncle used to go to a drawer in the table and produce a box of
+little screw-drivers and punches, and while I sat on his knee he would
+unscrew the lid and take out the wheels to see what was the matter. He
+must have been a clever mechanist, for the result was always the
+same-after a longer or shorter period the music began again. Sometimes
+when the musical-boxes had played all their tunes he used to put them in
+the box backwards, and was as pleased as I at the comic effect of the
+music &#8220;standing on its head,&#8221; as he phrased it.</p>
+
+<p>There was another and very wonderful toy which he sometimes produced for
+me, and this was known as &#8220;The Bat.&#8221; The ceilings of the rooms in which he
+lived at the time were very high indeed, and admirably suited for the
+purposes of &#8220;The Bat.&#8221; It was an ingeniously constructed toy of gauze and
+wire, which actually flew about the room like a bat. It was worked by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+piece of twisted elastic, and it could fly for about half a minute.</p>
+
+<p>I was always a little afraid of this toy because it was too lifelike, but
+there was a fearful joy in it. When the music-boxes began to pall he would
+get up from his chair and look at me with a knowing smile. I always knew
+what was coming even before he began to speak, and I used to dance up and
+down in tremendous anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Isa, my darling,&#8221; he would say, &#8220;once upon a time there was some one
+called Bob the Bat! and he lived in the top left-hand drawer of the
+writing-table. What could he do when uncle wound him up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And then I would squeak out breathlessly, &#8220;He could really <span class="smcap">Fly</span>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Bob the Bat had many adventures. There was no way of controlling the
+direction of its flight, and one morning, a hot summer&#8217;s morning when the
+window was wide open, Bob flew out into the garden and alighted in a bowl
+of salad which a scout was taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> to some one&#8217;s rooms. The poor fellow
+was so startled by the sudden flapping apparition that he dropped the
+bowl, and it was broken into a thousand pieces.</p>
+
+<p>There! I have written &#8220;a thousand pieces,&#8221; and a thoughtless exaggeration
+of that sort was a thing that Lewis Carroll hated. &#8220;A thousand pieces?&#8221; he
+would have said; &#8220;you know, Isa, that if the bowl had been broken into a
+thousand pieces they would each have been so tiny that you could have
+hardly seen them.&#8221; And if the broken pieces had been get-at-able, he would
+have made me count them as a means of impressing on my mind the folly of
+needless exaggeration.</p>
+
+<p>I remember how annoyed he was once when, after a morning&#8217;s sea bathing at
+Eastbourne, I exclaimed, &#8220;Oh, this salt water, it always makes my hair as
+stiff as a poker.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He impressed it on me quite irritably that no little girl&#8217;s hair could
+ever possibly get as stiff as a poker. &#8220;If you had said, &#8216;as stiff as
+wires,&#8217; it would have been more like it, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> even that would have been an
+exaggeration.&#8221; And then, seeing that I was a little frightened, he drew
+for me a picture of &#8220;The little girl called Isa whose hair turned into
+pokers because she was always exaggerating things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>That, and all the other pictures that he drew for me are, I&#8217;m sorry to
+say, the sole property of the little fishes in the Irish Channel, where a
+clumsy porter dropped them as we hurried into the boat at Holyhead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I nearly died of laughing,&#8221; was another expression that he particularly
+disliked; in fact any form of exaggeration generally called from him a
+reproof, though he was sometimes content to make fun. For instance, my
+sisters and I had sent him &#8220;millions of kisses&#8221; in a letter. Below you
+will find the letter that he wrote in return, written in violet ink that
+he always used (dreadfully ugly, I used to think it).</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img04.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img05.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img06.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img07.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right">&#8220;CH. Ch. Oxford,<br />
+&#8220;<i>Ap. 14, 1890</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">My own Darling</span>,</p>
+
+<p>It&#8217;s all very well for you and Nellie and Emsie to write in millions
+of hugs and kisses, but please consider the <i>time</i> it would occupy
+your poor old very busy Uncle! Try hugging and kissing Emsie for a
+minute by the watch, and I don&#8217;t think you&#8217;ll manage it more than 20
+times a minute. &#8216;Millions&#8217; must mean 2 millions at least.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">20)2,000,000 hugs and kisses<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">60)100,000 minutes</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">12)1,666 hours</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="u">6)138</span> days (at twelve hours a day)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">23 weeks.</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t go on hugging and kissing more than 12 hours a day: and I
+wouldn&#8217;t like to spend <i>Sundays</i> that way. So you see it would take
+<i>23 weeks</i> of hard work. Really, my dear child, I <i>cannot spare the
+time</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why haven&#8217;t I written since my last letter? Why, how <i>could</i> I, you
+silly silly child? How could I have written <i>since the last time</i> I
+<i>did</i> write? Now, you just try it with kissing. Go and kiss Nellie,
+from me, several times, and take care to manage it so as to have
+kissed her <i>since the last time</i> you <i>did</i> kiss her. Now go back to
+your place, and I&#8217;ll question you.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Have you kissed her several times?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Yes, darling Uncle.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;What o&#8217;clock was it when you gave her the <i>last</i> kiss?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>&#8220;&#8216;5 minutes past 10, Uncle.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Very well, now, have you kissed her <i>since</i>?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Well&mdash;I&mdash;ahem! ahem! ahem! (excuse me, Uncle, I&#8217;ve got a bad cough).
+I&mdash;think&mdash;that&mdash;I&mdash;that is, you, know, I&mdash;&mdash;&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Yes, I see! &#8220;Isa&#8221; begins with &#8220;I,&#8221; and it seems to me as if she was
+going to <i>end</i> with &#8220;I,&#8221; <i>this</i> time!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anyhow, my not writing hasn&#8217;t been because I was <i>ill</i>, but because I
+was a horrid lazy old thing, who kept putting it off from day to day,
+till at last I said to myself, &#8216;WHO ROAR! There&#8217;s no time to write
+now, because they <i>sail</i> on the 1st of April.&#8217;<small><a name="f1.1" id="f1.1" href="#f1">[1]</a></small> In fact, I shouldn&#8217;t
+have been a bit surprised if this letter had been from <i>Fulham</i>,
+instead of Louisville. Well, I suppose you <i>will</i> be there by about
+the middle of May. But mind you don&#8217;t write to me from there! Please,
+<i>please</i>, no more horrid letters from you! I <i>do</i> hate them so! And as
+for <i>kissing</i> them when I get them, why, I&#8217;d just as soon
+kiss&mdash;kiss&mdash;kiss <i>you</i>, you tiresome thing! So there now!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you very much for those 2 photographs&mdash;I liked
+them&mdash;hum&mdash;<i>pretty</i> well. I can&#8217;t honestly say I thought them the very
+best I had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please give my kindest regards to your mother, and &#189; of a kiss to
+Nellie, and <span style="font-size: 0.8em;"><sup>1</sup></span>&frasl;<span style="font-size: 0.6em;">200</span> a kiss
+to Emsie, and <span style="font-size: 0.8em;"><sup>1</sup></span>&frasl;<span style="font-size: 0.6em;">2,000,000</span> a kiss to yourself.
+So, with fondest love, I am, my darling, your loving Uncle,</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;<span class="smcap">C. L. Dodgson</span>.&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>And now, in the postscript, comes one of the rare instances in which Lewis
+Carroll showed his deep religious feeling. It runs&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;<i>P.S.</i>&mdash;I&#8217;ve thought about that little prayer you asked me to write
+for Nellie and Emsie. But I would like, first, to have the words of
+the one I wrote for <i>you</i>, and the words of what they <i>now</i> say, if
+they say any. And then I will pray to our Heavenly Father to help me
+to write a prayer that will be really fit for them to use.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>Again, I had ended one of my letters with &#8220;all join me in lufs and
+kisses.&#8221; It was a letter written when I was away from home and alone, and
+I had put the usual ending thoughtlessly and in haste, for there was no
+one that I knew in all that town who could have joined me in my messages
+to him. He answered me as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right">&#8220;<span class="smcap">7 Lushington Road, Eastbourne</span>,<br />
+&#8220;<i>Aug. 30, 90</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you naughty, naughty, bad wicked little girl! You forgot to put a
+stamp on your letter, and your poor old uncle had to pay TWOPENCE! His
+<i>last</i> Twopence! Think of that. I shall punish you severely for this
+when once I get you here. So <i>tremble</i>! Do you hear? Be good enough to
+tremble!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>&#8220;I&#8217;ve only time for one question to-day. Who in the world are the
+&#8216;all&#8217; that join you in &#8216;Lufs and kisses.&#8217; Weren&#8217;t you fancying you
+were at home, and sending messages (as people constantly do) from
+Nellie and Emsie without their having given any? It isn&#8217;t a good plan
+that sending messages people haven&#8217;t given. I don&#8217;t mean it&#8217;s in the
+least <i>untruthful</i>, because everybody knows how commonly they are sent
+without having been given; but it lessens the pleasure of receiving
+the messages. My sisters write to me &#8216;with best love from all.&#8217; I know
+it isn&#8217;t true; so I don&#8217;t value it much. The other day, the husband of
+one of my &#8216;child-friends&#8217; (who always writes &#8216;your loving&#8217;) wrote to
+me and ended with &#8216;Ethel joins me in kindest regards.&#8217; In my answer I
+said (of course in fun)&mdash;&#8216;I am not going to send Ethel kindest
+regards, so I won&#8217;t send her any message <i>at all</i>.&#8217; Then she wrote to
+say she didn&#8217;t even know he was writing! &#8216;Of course I would have sent
+best love,&#8217; and she added that she had given her husband a piece of
+her mind! Poor husband!</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;Your always loving uncle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">&#8220;C. L. D.&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>These letters are written in Lewis Carroll&#8217;s ordinary handwriting, not a
+particularly legible one. When, however, he was writing for the press no
+characters could have been more clearly and distinctly formed than his.
+Throughout his life he always made it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> his care to give as little trouble
+as possible to other people. &#8220;Why should the printers have to work
+overtime because my letters are ill-formed and my words run into each
+other?&#8221; he once said, when a friend remonstrated with him because he took
+such pains with the writing of his &#8220;copy.&#8221; As a specimen of his careful
+penmanship the diary that he wrote for me, which is reproduced in this
+book in facsimile, is an admirable example.</p>
+
+<p>They were happy days, those days in Oxford, spent with the most
+fascinating companion that a child could have. In our walks about the old
+town, in our visits to cathedral or chapel or hall, in our visits to his
+friends he was an ideal companion, but I think I was almost happiest when
+we came back to his rooms and had tea alone; when the fire-glow (it was
+always winter when I stayed in Oxford) threw fantastic shadows about the
+quaint room, and the thoughts of the prosiest of people must have
+wandered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> a little into fancy-land. The shifting firelight seemed to
+almost &aelig;therealise that kindly face, and as the wonderful stories fell
+from his lips, and his eyes lighted on me with the sweetest smile that
+ever a man wore, I was conscious of a love and reverence for Charles
+Dodgson that became nearly an adoration.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost pain when the lights were turned up and we came back to
+everyday life and tea.</p>
+
+<p>He was very particular about his tea, which he always made himself, and in
+order that it should draw properly he would walk about the room swinging
+the tea-pot from side to side for exactly ten minutes. The idea of the
+grave professor promenading his book-lined study and carefully waving a
+tea-pot to and fro may seem ridiculous, but all the minuti&aelig; of life
+received an extreme attention at his hands, and after the first surprise
+one came quickly to realise the convenience that his carefulness ensured.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img08.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">BEGGAR CHILDREN</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Before starting on a railway journey, for instance (and how delightful
+were railway journeys in the company of Lewis Carroll), <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>he used to map
+out exactly every minute of the time that we were to take on the way. The
+details of the journey completed, he would exactly calculate the amount of
+money that must be spent, and, in different partitions of the two purses
+that he carried, arrange the various sums that would be necessary for
+cabs, porters, newspapers, refreshments, and the other expenses of a
+journey. It was wonderful how much trouble he saved himself <i>en route</i> by
+thus making ready beforehand. Lewis Carroll was never driven half frantic
+on a station platform because he had to change a sovereign to buy a penny
+paper while the train was on the verge of starting. With him journeys were
+always comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Of the joys that waited on a little girl who stayed with Lewis Carroll at
+his Oxford home I can give no better idea than that furnished by the diary
+that follows, which he wrote for me, bit by bit, during the evenings of
+one of my stays at Oxford.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><small><a href="#diary_text">Text of Diary</a></small></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img09.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img10.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img11.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img12.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img13.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img14.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img15.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img16.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img17.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img18.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img19.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img20.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img21.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img22.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img23.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img24.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p><a name="diary" id="diary"></a>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>This diary, and what I have written before, show how I, as a little girl,
+knew Lewis Carroll at Oxford.</p>
+
+<p>For his little girl friends, of course, he reserved the most intimate side
+of his nature, but on occasion he would throw off his reserve and talk
+earnestly and well to some young man in whose life he took an interest.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arthur Girdlestone is able to bear witness to this, and he has given
+me an account of an evening that he once spent with Lewis Carroll, which I
+reproduce here from notes made during our conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Girdlestone, then an undergraduate at New College, had on one occasion
+to call on Lewis Carroll at his rooms in Tom Quad. At the time of which I
+am speaking Lewis Carroll had retired very much from the society which he
+had affected a few years before. Indeed for the last years of his life he
+was almost a recluse, and beyond dining in Hall saw hardly any one. Miss
+Beatrice Hatch,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> one of his &#8220;girl friends,&#8221; writes apropos of his
+hermit-like seclusion:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you were very anxious to get him to come to your house on any
+particular day, the only chance was <i>not</i> to <i>invite</i> him, but only to
+inform him that you would be at home. Otherwise he would say, &#8216;As you have
+<i>invited</i> me I cannot come, for I have made a rule to decline all
+<i>invitations</i>; but I will come the next day.&#8217; In former years he would
+sometimes consent to go to a &#8216;party&#8217; if he was quite sure he was not to be
+&#8216;shown off&#8217; or introduced to any one as the author of &#8216;Alice.&#8217; I must
+again quote from a note of his in answer to an invitation to tea: &#8216;What an
+awful proposition! To drink tea from four to six would tax the
+constitution even of a hardened tea drinker! For me, who hardly ever touch
+it, it would probably be fatal.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All through the University, except in an extremely limited circle, Lewis
+Carroll was regarded as a person who lived very much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> by himself. &#8220;When,&#8221;
+Mr. Girdlestone said to me, &#8220;I went to see him on quite a slight
+acquaintance, I confess it was with some slight feeling of trepidation.
+However I had to on some business, and accordingly I knocked at his door
+about 8.30 one winter&#8217;s evening, and was invited to come in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was sitting working at a writing-table, and all round him were piles
+of MSS. arranged with mathematical neatness, and many of them tied up with
+tape. The lamp threw his face into sharp relief as he greeted me. My
+business was soon over, and I was about to go away, when he asked me if I
+would have a glass of wine and sit with him for a little.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The night outside was very cold, and the fire was bright and inviting,
+and I sat down. He began to talk to me of ordinary subjects, of the things
+a man might do at Oxford, of the place itself, and the affection in which
+he held it. He talked quietly, and in a rather tired voice. During our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+conversation my eye fell upon a photograph of a little girl&mdash;evidently
+from the freshness of its appearance but newly taken&mdash;which was resting
+upon the ledge of a reading-stand at my elbow. It was the picture of a
+tiny child, very pretty, and I picked it up to look at it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;That is the baby of a girl friend of mine,&#8217; he said, and then, with an
+absolute change of voice, &#8216;there is something very strange about very
+young children, something I cannot understand.&#8217; I asked him in what way,
+and he explained at some length. He was far less at his ease than when
+talking trivialities, and he occasionally stammered and sometimes
+hesitated for a word. I cannot remember all he said, but some of his
+remarks still remain with me. He said that in the company of very little
+children his brain enjoyed a rest which was startlingly recuperative. If
+he had been working too hard or had tired his brain in any way, to play
+with children was like an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> actual material tonic to his whole system. I
+understood him to say that the effect was almost physical!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He said that he found it much easier to understand children, to get his
+mind into correspondence with their minds when he was fatigued with other
+work. Personally, I did not understand little children, and they seemed
+quite outside my experience, and rather incautiously I asked him if
+children never bored him. He had been standing up for most of the time,
+and when I asked him that, he sat down suddenly. &#8216;They are three-fourths
+of my life,&#8217; he said. &#8216;I cannot understand how any one could be bored by
+little children. I think when you are older you will come to see this&mdash;I
+hope you&#8217;ll come to see it.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After that he changed the subject once more, and became again the
+mathematician&mdash;a little formal, and rather weary.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Girdlestone probably had a unique experience, for it was but rarely
+that Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> Dodgson so far unburdened himself to a comparative stranger, and
+what was even worse, to a &#8220;grown-up stranger.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Now I have given you two different phases of Lewis Carroll at
+Oxford&mdash;Lewis Carroll as the little girl&#8217;s companion, and Lewis Carroll
+sitting by the fireside telling something of his inner self to a young
+man. I am going on to talk about my life with him at Eastbourne, where I
+used, year by year, to stay with him at his house in Lushington Road.</p>
+
+<p>He was very fond of Eastbourne, and it was from that place that I received
+the most charming letters that he wrote me. Here is one, and I could
+hardly say how many times I have taken this delightful letter from its
+drawer to read through and through again.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right">&#8220;<span class="smcap">7 Lushington Road, Eastbourne</span>,<br />
+&#8220;<i>September 17, 1893</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you naughty, naughty little culprit! If only I could fly to
+Fulham with a handy little stick (ten feet long and four inches thick
+is my favourite size) how I would rap your wicked little knuckles.
+However, there isn&#8217;t much harm done, so I will sentence <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>you to a
+very mild punishment&mdash;only one year&#8217;s imprisonment. If you&#8217;ll just
+tell the Fulham policeman about it, he&#8217;ll manage all the rest for you,
+and he&#8217;ll fit you with a nice pair of handcuffs, and lock you up in a
+nice cosy dark cell, and feed you on nice dry bread, and delicious
+cold water.</p></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img25.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">ST. GEORGE THE DRAGON</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>&#8220;But how badly you <i>do</i>
+spell your words! I <i>was</i> so puzzled about the &#8216;sacks full of love and baskets full of kisses!&#8217; But at last I made
+out why, of course, you meant &#8216;a sack full of <i>gloves</i>, and a basket
+full of <i>kittens</i>!&#8217; Then I understood what you were sending me. And
+just then Mrs. Dyer came to tell me a large sack and a basket had
+come. There was such a miawing in the house, as if all the cats in
+Eastbourne had come to see me! &#8216;Oh, just open them please, Mrs. Dyer,
+and count the things in them!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So in a few minutes Mrs. Dyer came and said, &#8216;500 pairs of gloves in
+the sack and 250 kittens in the basket.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Dear me! That makes 1000 gloves! four times as many gloves as
+kittens! It&#8217;s very kind of Maggie, but why did she send so many
+gloves? for I haven&#8217;t got 1000 <i>hands</i>, you know, Mrs. Dyer.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Mrs. Dyer said, &#8216;No, indeed, you&#8217;re 998 hands short of that!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;However the next day I made out what to do, and I took the basket
+with me and walked off to the parish school&mdash;the <i>girl&#8217;s</i> school, you
+know&mdash;and I said to the mistress, &#8216;How many little girls are there at
+school to-day?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Exactly 250, sir.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>&#8220;&#8216;And have they all been <i>very</i> good all day?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;As good as gold, sir.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I waited outside the door with my basket, and as each little girl
+came out, I just popped a soft little kitten into her hands! Oh, what
+joy there was! The little girls went all dancing home, nursing their
+kittens, and the whole air was full of purring! Then, the next
+morning, I went to the school, before it opened, to ask the little
+girls how the kittens had behaved in the night. And they all arrived
+sobbing and crying, and their faces and hands were all covered with
+scratches, and they had the kittens wrapped up in their pinafores to
+keep them from scratching any more. And they sobbed out, &#8216;The kittens
+have been scratching us all night, all the night.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So then I said to myself, &#8216;What a nice little girl Maggie is. <i>Now</i> I
+see why she sent all those gloves, and why there are four times as
+many gloves as kittens!&#8217; and I said loud to the little girls, &#8216;Never
+mind, my dear children, do your lessons <i>very</i> nicely, and don&#8217;t cry
+any more, and when school is over, you&#8217;ll find me at the door, and you
+shall see what you shall see!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So, in the evening, when the little girls came running out, with the
+kittens still wrapped up in their pinafores, there was I, at the door,
+with a big sack! And, as each little girl came out, I just popped into
+her hand two pairs of gloves! And each little girl unrolled her
+pinafore and took out an angry little kitten, spitting and snarling,
+with its claws sticking out like a hedgehog. But it hadn&#8217;t time to
+scratch, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>for, in one moment, it found all its four claws popped into
+nice soft warm gloves! And then the kittens got quite sweet-tempered
+and gentle, and began purring again!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So the little girls went dancing home again, and the next morning
+they came dancing back to school. The scratches were all healed, and
+they told me &#8216;The kittens <i>have</i> been good!&#8217; And, when any kitten
+wants to catch a mouse, it just takes off <i>one</i> of its gloves; and if
+it wants to catch <i>two</i> mice, it takes off two gloves; and if it wants
+to catch <i>three</i> mice, it takes off <i>three</i> gloves; and if it wants to
+catch <i>four</i> mice, it takes off all its gloves. But the moment they&#8217;ve
+caught the mice, they pop their gloves on again, because they know we
+can&#8217;t love them without their gloves. For, you see &#8216;gloves&#8217; have got
+&#8216;love&#8217; <i>inside</i> them&mdash;there&#8217;s none <i>outside</i>!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So all the little girls said, &#8216;Please thank Maggie, and we send her
+250 <i>loves</i>, and 1000 <i>kisses</i> in return for her 250 kittens and her
+1000 <i>loves</i>!!&#8217; And I told them in the wrong order! and they said they
+hadn&#8217;t.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;Your loving old Uncle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">&#8220;C. L. D.</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Love and kisses to Nellie and Emsie.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>This letter takes up eight pages of close writing, and I should very much
+doubt if any child ever had a more charming one from anybody. The
+whimsical fancy in it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> the absolute comprehension of a child&#8217;s intellect,
+the quickness with which the writer employs the slightest incident or
+thing that would be likely to please a little girl, is simply wonderful. I
+shall never forget how the letter charmed and delighted my sister Maggie
+and myself. We called it &#8220;The glove and kitten letter,&#8221; and as I look at
+the tremulous handwriting which is lying by my side, it all comes back to
+me very vividly&mdash;like the sound of forgotten fingers on the latch to some
+lonely fireside watcher, when the wind is wailing round the house with a
+wilder inner note than it has in the daytime.</p>
+
+<p>At Eastbourne I was happier even with Lewis Carroll than I was at Oxford.
+We seemed more free, and there was the air of holiday over it all. Every
+day of my stay at the house in Lushington Road was a perfect dream of
+delight.</p>
+
+<p>There was one regular and fixed routine which hardly ever varied, and
+which I came to know by heart; and I will write an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> account of it here,
+and ask any little girl who reads it, if she ever had such a splendid time
+in her life.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with, we used to get up very early indeed. Our bedroom doors
+faced each other at the top of the staircase. When I came out of mine I
+always knew if I might go into his room or not by his signal. If, when I
+came into the passage, I found that a newspaper had been put under the
+door, then I knew I might go in at once; but if there was no newspaper,
+then I had to wait till it appeared. I used to sit down on the top stair
+as quiet as a mouse, watching for the paper to come under the door, when I
+would rush in almost before uncle had time to get out of the way. This was
+always the first pleasure and excitement of the day. Then we used to
+downstairs to breakfast, after which we always read a chapter out of the
+Bible. So that I should remember it, I always had to tell it to him
+afterwards as a story of my own.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img26.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">&#8220;LEWIS CARROLL&#8217;S&#8221; HOUSE AT EASTBOURNE</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>&#8220;Now then, Isa dearest,&#8221; he would say, &#8220;tell me a story, and mind you
+begin with &#8216;once upon a time.&#8217; A story which does not begin with &#8216;once
+upon a time&#8217; can&#8217;t possibly be a good story. It&#8217;s <i>most</i> important.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When I had told my story it was time to go out.</p>
+
+<p>I was learning swimming at the Devonshire Park baths, and we always had a
+bargain together. He would never allow me to go to the
+swimming-bath&mdash;which I revelled in&mdash;until I had promised him faithfully
+that I would go afterwards to the dentist&#8217;s.</p>
+
+<p>He had great ideas upon the importance of a regular and almost daily visit
+to the dentist. He himself went to a dentist as he would have gone to a
+hairdresser&#8217;s, and he insisted that all the little girls he knew should go
+too. The precaution sounds strange, and one might be inclined to think
+that Lewis Carroll carried it to an unnecessary length; but I can only
+bear personal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> witness to the fact that I have firm strong teeth, and have
+never had a toothache in my life. I believe I owe this entirely to those
+daily visits to the Eastbourne dentist.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this it was time for lunch, and we both went back hand-in-hand
+to the rooms in Lushington Road. Lewis Carroll never had a proper lunch, a
+fact which always used to puzzle me tremendously.</p>
+
+<p>I could not understand how a big grown-up man could live on a glass of
+sherry and a biscuit at dinner time. It seemed such a pity when there was
+lots of mutton and rice-pudding that he should not have any. I always used
+to ask him, &#8220;Aren&#8217;t you hungry, uncle, even <i>to-day</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After lunch I used to have a lesson in backgammon, a game of which he was
+passionately fond, and of which he could never have enough. Then came what
+to me was the great trial of the day. I am afraid I was a very lazy little
+girl in those days, and I know I hated walking far. The trial was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> that
+we should walk to the top of Beachy Head every afternoon. I used to like
+it very much when I got there, but the walk was irksome. Lewis Carroll
+believed very much in a great amount of exercise, and said one should
+always go to bed physically wearied with the exercise of the day.
+Accordingly there was no way out of it, and every afternoon I had to walk
+to the top of Beachy Head. He was very good and kind. He would invent all
+sorts of new games to beguile the tedium of the way. One very curious and
+strange trait in his character was shown on these walks. I used to be very
+fond of flowers and of animals also. A pretty dog or a hedge of
+honeysuckle were always pleasant events upon a walk to me. And yet he
+himself cared for neither flowers nor animals. Tender and kind as he was,
+simple and unassuming in all his tastes, yet he did not like flowers! I
+confess that even now I find it hard to understand. He knew children so
+thoroughly and well&mdash;perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> better than any one else&mdash;that it is all the
+stranger that he did not care for things that generally attract them so
+much. However, be that as it may, the fact remained. When I was in
+raptures over a poppy or a dogrose, he would try hard to be as interested
+as I was, but even to my childish eyes it was an obvious effort, and he
+would always rather invent some new game for us to play at. Once, and once
+only, I remember him to have taken an interest in a flower, and that was
+because of the folk-lore that was attached to it, and not because of the
+beauty of the flower itself.</p>
+
+<p>We used to walk into the country that stretched, in beautiful natural
+avenues of trees, inland from Eastbourne. One day while we sat under a
+great tree, and the hum of the myriad insect life rivalled the murmur of
+the far-away waves, he took a foxglove from the heap that lay in my lap
+and told me the story of how they came by their name; how, in the old
+days, when, all over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> England, there were great forests, like the forest
+of Arden that Shakespeare loved, the pixies, the &#8220;little folks,&#8221; used to
+wander at night in the glades, like Titania, and Oberon, and Puck, and
+because they took great pride in their dainty hands they made themselves
+gloves out of the flowers. So the particular flower that the &#8220;little
+folks&#8221; used came to be called &#8220;folks&#8217; gloves.&#8221; Then, because the country
+people were rough and clumsy in their talk, the name was shortened into
+&#8220;Fox-gloves,&#8221; the name that every one uses now.</p>
+
+<p>When I got very tired we used to sit down upon the grass, and he used to
+show me the most wonderful things made out of his handkerchief. Every one
+when a child has, I suppose, seen the trick in which a handkerchief is
+rolled up to look like a mouse, and then made to jump about by a movement
+of the hand. He did this better than any one I ever saw, and the trick was
+a never-failing joy. By a sort of consent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> between us the handkerchief
+trick was kept especially for the walk to Beachy Head, when, about
+half-way, I was a little tired and wanted to rest. When we actually got to
+the Head there was tea waiting in the coastguard&#8217;s cottage. He always said
+I ate far too much, and he would never allow me more than one rock cake
+and a cup of tea. This was an invariable rule, and much as I wished for
+it, I was never allowed to have more than one rock cake.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the coastguard&#8217;s house or on the grass outside that I heard most
+of his stories. Sometimes he would make excursions into the realms of pure
+romance, where there were scaly dragons and strange beasts that sat up and
+talked. In all these stories there was always an adventure in a forest,
+and the great scene of each tale always took place in a wood. The
+consummation of a story was always heralded by the phrase, &#8220;The children
+now came to a deep dark wood.&#8221; When I heard that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> sentence, which was
+always spoken very slowly and with a solemn dropping of the voice, I
+always knew that the really exciting part was coming. I used to nestle a
+little nearer to him, and he used to hold me a little closer as he told of
+the final adventure.</p>
+
+<p>He did not always tell me fairy tales, though I think I liked the fairy
+tale much the best. Sometimes he gave me accounts of adventures which had
+happened to him. There was one particularly thrilling story of how he was
+lost on Beachy Head in a sea fog, and had to find his way home by means of
+boulders. This was the more interesting because we were on the actual
+scene of the disaster, and to be there stimulated the imagination.</p>
+
+<p>The summer afternoons on the great headland were very sweet and peaceful.
+I have never met a man so sensible to the influences of Nature as Lewis
+Carroll. When the sunset was very beautiful he was often affected by the
+sight. The widespread <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>wrinkled sea below, in the mellow melancholy light
+of the afternoon, seemed to fit in with his temperament. I have still a
+mental picture that I can recall of him on the cliff. Just as the sun was
+setting, and a cool breeze whispered round us, he would take off his hat
+and let the wind play with his hair, and he would look out to sea. Once I
+saw tears in his eyes, and when we turned to go he gripped my hand much
+tighter than usual.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img27.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">MISS ISA BOWMAN AND MISS BESSIE HATTON<br />AS THE LITTLE PRINCES IN THE TOWER</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>We generally got back to dinner about seven or earlier. He would never let
+me change my frock for the meal, even if we were going to a concert or
+theatre afterwards. He had a curious theory that a child should not change
+her clothes twice in one day. He himself made no alteration in his dress
+at dinner time, nor would he permit me to do so. Yet he was not by any
+means an untidy or slovenly man. He had many little fads in dress, but his
+great horror and abomination was high-heeled shoes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> with pointed toes. No
+words were strong enough, he thought, to describe such monstrous things.</p>
+
+<p>Lewis Carroll was a deeply religious man, and on Sundays at Eastbourne we
+always went twice to church. Yet he held that no child should be forced
+into church-going against its will. Such a state of mind in a child, he
+said, needed most careful treatment, and the very worst thing to do was to
+make attendance at the services compulsory. Another habit of his, which
+must, I feel sure, sound rather dreadful to many, was that, should the
+sermon prove beyond my comprehension, he would give me a little book to
+read; it was better far, he maintained, to read, than to stare idly about
+the church. When the rest of the congregation rose at the entrance of the
+choir he kept his seat. He argued that rising to one&#8217;s feet at such a time
+tended to make the choir-boys conceited. I think he was quite right.</p>
+
+<p>He kept no special books for Sunday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> reading, for he was most emphatically
+of opinion that anything tending to make Sunday a day dreaded by a child
+should be studiously avoided. He did not like me to sew on Sunday unless
+it was absolutely necessary.</p>
+
+<p>One would have hardly expected that a man of so reserved a nature as Lewis
+Carroll would have taken much interest in the stage. Yet he was devoted to
+the theatre, and one of the commonest of the treats that he gave his
+little girl friends was to organise a party for the play. As a critic of
+acting he was na&iuml;ve and outspoken, and never hesitated to find fault if he
+thought it justifiable. The following letter that he wrote to me
+criticising my acting in &#8220;Richard III.&#8221; when I was playing with Richard
+Mansfield, is one of the most interesting that I ever received from him.
+Although it was written for a child to understand and profit by, and
+moreover written in the simplest possible way, it yet even now strikes me
+as a trenchant and valuable piece of criticism.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img28.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">ISA BOWMAN AS DUKE OF YORK</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+&#8220;<span class="smcap">Ch. Ch. Oxford</span>,<br />
+&#8220;<i>Ap. 4, &#8217;89</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">My Lord Duke</span>,&mdash;The photographs, which Your Grace did me the honour of
+sending arrived safely; and I can assure your Royal Highness that I am
+very glad to have them, and like them <i>very</i> much, particularly the
+large head of your late Royal Uncle&#8217;s little little son. I do not
+wonder that your excellent Uncle Richard should say &#8216;off with his
+head!&#8217; as a hint to the photographer to print it off. Would your
+Highness like me to go on calling you the Duke of York, or shall I say
+&#8216;my own own darling Isa?&#8217; Which do you like best?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now I&#8217;m going to find fault with my pet about her acting. What&#8217;s the
+good of an old Uncle like me except to find fault?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do the meeting with the Prince of Wales <i>very</i> nicely and
+lovingly; and, in teasing your Uncle for his dagger and his sword, you
+are very sweet and playful and&mdash;&#8216;but <i>that&#8217;s</i> not finding fault!&#8217; Isa
+says to herself. Isn&#8217;t it? Well, I&#8217;ll try again. Didn&#8217;t I hear you say
+&#8216;In weightier things you&#8217;ll say a <i>beggar</i> nay,&#8217; leaning on the word
+&#8216;beggar&#8217;? If so, it was a mistake. <i>My</i> rule for knowing which word to
+lean on is the word that tells you something <i>new</i>, something that is
+<i>different</i> from what you expected.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take the sentence &#8216;first I bought a bag of apples, then I bought a
+bag of pears,&#8217; you wouldn&#8217;t say &#8216;then I bought a <i>bag</i> of pears.&#8217; The
+&#8216;bag&#8217; is nothing new, because it was a bag in the first part of the
+sentence. But the <i>pears</i> are new, and different from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> <i>apples</i>.
+So you would say, &#8216;then I bought a bag of <i>pears</i>.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you understand that, my pet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now what you say to Richard amounts to this, &#8216;With light gifts you&#8217;ll
+say to a beggar &#8220;yes&#8221;: with heavy gifts you&#8217;ll say to a beggar &#8220;nay.&#8221;&#8217;
+The words &#8216;you&#8217;ll say to a beggar&#8217; are the same both times; so you
+mustn&#8217;t lean on any of <i>those</i> words. But &#8216;light&#8217; is different from
+&#8216;heavy,&#8217; and &#8216;yes&#8217; is different from &#8216;nay.&#8217; So the way to say the
+sentence would be &#8216;with <i>light</i> gifts you&#8217;ll say to a beggar &#8220;<i>yes</i>&#8221;:
+with <i>heavy</i> gifts you&#8217;ll say to a beggar &#8220;<i>nay</i>&#8221;.&#8217; And the way to say
+the lines in the play is&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;O, then I see you will <i>part</i> but with <i>light</i> gifts;<br />
+In <i>weightier</i> things you&#8217;ll say a beggar <i>nay</i>.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One more sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When Richard says, &#8216;What, would you have my <i>weapon</i>, little Lord?&#8217;
+and you reply &#8216;I <i>would</i>, that I might thank you as you call me,&#8217;
+didn&#8217;t I hear you pronounce &#8216;thank&#8217; as if it were spelt with an &#8216;e&#8217;? I
+know it&#8217;s very common (I often do it myself) to say &#8216;thenk you!&#8217; as an
+exclamation by itself. I suppose it&#8217;s an odd way of pronouncing the
+word. But I&#8217;m sure it&#8217;s wrong to pronounce it so when it comes into a
+<i>sentence</i>. It will sound <i>much</i> nicer if you&#8217;ll pronounce it so as to
+rhyme with &#8216;bank.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One more thing. (&#8216;What an impertinent old uncle! Always finding
+fault!&#8217;) You&#8217;re not as <i>natural</i>, when acting the Duke, as you were
+when you acted Alice. You seemed to me not to forgot <i>yourself</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
+enough. It was not so much a real <i>prince</i> talking to his elder
+brother and his uncle; it was <i>Isa Bowman</i> talking to people she
+didn&#8217;t <i>much</i> care about, for an audience to listen to&mdash;I don&#8217;t mean
+it was that all <i>through</i>, but <i>sometimes</i> you were <i>artificial</i>. Now
+don&#8217;t be jealous of Miss Hatton, when I say she was <i>sweetly</i> natural.
+She looked and spoke like a <i>real</i> Prince of Wales. And she didn&#8217;t
+seem to know that there was any audience. If you are ever to be a
+<i>good</i> actress (as I hope you will), you must learn to <i>forget</i> &#8216;Isa&#8217;
+altogether, and <i>be</i> the character you are playing. Try to think &#8216;This
+is <i>really</i> the Prince of Wales. I&#8217;m his little brother, and I&#8217;m
+<i>very</i> glad to meet him, and I love him <i>very</i> much,&#8217; and &#8216;this is
+<i>really</i> my uncle: he&#8217;s very kind, and lets me say saucy things to
+him,&#8217; and <i>do</i> forget that there&#8217;s anybody else listening!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My sweet pet, I <i>hope</i> you won&#8217;t be offended with me for saying what
+I fancy might make your acting better!</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;Your loving old Uncle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Charles</span>.</span></p>
+
+<p>X for <span class="smcap">Nellie</span>.<br />
+X for <span class="smcap">Maggie</span>.<br />
+X for <span class="smcap">Emsie</span>.<br />
+X for <span class="smcap">Isa</span>.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>He was a fairly constant patron of all the London theatres, save the
+Gaiety and the Adelphi, which he did not like, and numbered a good many
+theatrical folk among his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> acquaintances. Miss Ellen Terry was one of his
+greatest friends. Once I remember we made an expedition from Eastbourne to
+Margate to visit Miss Sarah Thorne&#8217;s theatre, and especially for the
+purpose of seeing Miss Violet Vanbrugh&#8217;s Ophelia. He was a great admirer
+of both Miss Violet and Miss Irene Vanbrugh as actresses. Of Miss Thorne&#8217;s
+school of acting, too, he had the highest opinion, and it was his often
+expressed wish that all intending players could have so excellent a course
+of tuition. Among the male members of the theatrical profession he had no
+especial favourites, excepting Mr. Toole and Mr. Richard Mansfield.</p>
+
+<p>He never went to a music-hall, but considered that, properly managed, they
+might be beneficial to the public. It was only when the refrain of some
+particularly vulgar music-hall song broke upon his ears in the streets
+that he permitted himself to speak harshly about variety theatres.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>Comic opera, when it was wholesome, he liked, and was a frequent visitor
+to the Savoy theatre. The good old style of Pantomime, too, was a great
+delight to him, and he would often speak affectionately of the pantomimes
+at Brighton during the r&eacute;gime of Mr. and Mrs. Nye Chart. But of the
+up-to-date pantomime he had a horror, and nothing would induce him to
+visit one. &#8220;When pantomimes are written for children once more,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;I will go. Not till then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Once when a friend told him that she was about to take her little girls to
+the pantomime, he did not rest till he had dissuaded her.</p>
+
+<p>To conclude what I have said about Lewis Carroll&#8217;s affection for the
+dramatic art, I will give a kind of examination paper, written for a child
+who had been learning a recitation called &#8220;The Demon of the Pit.&#8221; Though
+his stuttering prevented him from being himself anything of a reciter, he
+loved <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>correct elocution, and would take any pains to make a child
+perfect in a piece.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img29.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">THE LITTLE PRINCES</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>First of all there is an explanatory paragraph.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As you don&#8217;t ask any questions about &#8216;The Demon of the Pit,&#8217; I suppose
+you understand it all. So please answer these questions just as you would
+do if a younger child (say Mollie) asked them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Mollie.</i> Please, Ethel, will you explain this poem to me. There are
+some very hard words in it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> What are they, dear?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> Well, in the first line, &#8220;If you chance to make a sally.&#8221;
+What does &#8220;sally&#8221; mean?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> Dear Mollie, I believe sally means to take a chance work.<small><a name="f2.1" id="f2.1" href="#f2">[2]</a></small></p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> Then, near the end of the first verse&mdash;&#8220;Whereupon she&#8217;ll
+call her cronies&#8221;&mdash;what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> does &#8220;whereupon&#8221; mean? And what are cronies?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> I think whereupon means at the same time, and cronies means
+her favourite playfellows.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> &#8220;And invest in proud polonies.&#8221; What&#8217;s to &#8220;invest?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> To invest means to spend money in anything you fancy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> And what&#8217;s &#8220;A woman of the day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> A woman of the day means a wonder of the time with the
+general public.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> &#8220;Pyrotechnic blaze of wit.&#8221; What&#8217;s pyrotechnic?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> Mollie, I think you will find that pyrotechnic means quick,
+with flashes of lightning.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> Then the 8 lines that begin &#8220;The astounding infant
+wonder&#8221;&mdash;please explain &#8220;r&ocirc;le&#8221; and &#8220;mise&#8221; and &#8220;tout ensemble&#8221; and
+&#8220;grit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> Well, Mollie, &#8220;r&ocirc;le&#8221; means so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> many different things, but in
+&#8220;The Demon of the Pit&#8221; I should think it meant the leading part of the
+piece, and &#8220;mise&#8221; means something extra good introduced, and &#8220;tout&#8221;
+means to seek for applause, but &#8220;ensemble&#8221; means the whole of the
+parts taken together, and grit means something good.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> &#8220;And the Goblins prostrate tumble.&#8221; What&#8217;s &#8220;prostrate&#8221;?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> I believe prostrate means to be cast down and unhappy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> &#8220;And his accents shake a bit.&#8221; What are &#8220;accents&#8221;?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> To accent is to lay stress upon a word.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> &#8220;Waits resignedly behind.&#8221; What&#8217;s &#8220;resignedly&#8221;?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ethel.</i> Resignedly means giving up, yielding.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> &#8220;They have tripe as light to dream on.&#8221; What does &#8220;as&#8221; mean
+here? and what does &#8220;to dream on&#8221; mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span><i>Ethel.</i> Mollie, dear, your last question is very funny. In the first
+place, I have always been told that hot suppers are not good for any
+one, and I should think that tripe would <i>not be light</i> to dream on
+but VERY heavy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mollie.</i> Thank you, Ethel.</p></div>
+
+<p>I have now nearly finished my little memoir of Lewis Carroll; that is to
+say, I have written down all that I can remember of my personal knowledge
+of him. But I think it is from the letters and the diaries published in
+this book that my readers must chiefly gain an insight into the character
+of the greatest friend to children who ever lived. Not only did he study
+children&#8217;s ways for his own pleasure, but he studied them in order that he
+might please them. For instance, here is a letter that he wrote to my
+little sister Nelly eight years ago, which begins on the last page and is
+written entirely backwards&mdash;a kind of variant on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> famous
+&#8220;Looking-Glass&#8221; writing. You have to begin at the last word and read
+backwards before you can understand it. The only ordinary thing about it
+is the date. It begins&mdash;I mean <i>begins</i> if one was to read it in the
+ordinary way&mdash;with the characteristic monogram, C. L. D.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right">&#8220;<i>Nov. 1, 1891.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;C. L. D., Uncle loving your! Instead grandson his to it give to had
+you that so, years 80 or 70 for it forgot you that was it pity a what
+and: him of fond so were you wonder don&#8217;t I and, gentleman old nice
+very a was he. For it made you that <i>him</i> been have <i>must</i> it see you
+so: <i>grandfather</i> my was, <i>then</i> alive was that, &#8216;Dodgson Uncle&#8217; only
+the. Born was <i>I</i> before long was that, see you, then But. &#8216;Dodgson
+Uncle for pretty thing some make I&#8217;ll now,&#8217; it began you when,
+yourself to said you that, me telling her without, knew I course of
+and: ago years many great a it made had you said she. Me told Isa what
+from was it? For meant was it who out made I how know you do! Lasted
+has it well how and. Grandfather my for made had you Antimacassar
+pretty that me give to you of nice so was it, Nelly dear my.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img30.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img31.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img32.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+
+<p><br />Miss Hatch has also sent me an original letter that Lewis Carroll wrote to
+her in 1873, about a large wax doll that he had given her. It is
+interesting to notice that this letter, written long before any of the
+others that he wrote to me, is identically the same in form and
+expression. It is a striking proof how fresh and unimpaired the writer&#8217;s
+sympathies must have been. Year after year he retained the same sweet,
+kindly temperament, and, if anything, his love for children seemed to
+increase as he grew older.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>&#8220;<span class="smcap">My dear Birdie</span>,&mdash;I met
+her just outside Tom Gate, walking very stiffly, and I think she was trying to find her way to my rooms. So I
+said, &#8216;Why have you come here without Birdie?&#8217; So she said, &#8216;Birdie&#8217;s
+gone! and Emily&#8217;s gone! and Mabel isn&#8217;t kind to me!&#8217; And two little
+waxy tears came running down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, how stupid of me! I&#8217;ve never told you who it was all the time!
+It was your new doll. I was very glad to see her, and I took her to my
+room, and gave her some vesta matches to eat, and a cup of nice melted
+wax to drink, for the poor little thing was <i>very</i> hungry and thirsty
+after her long walk. So I said, &#8216;Come and sit down by the fire, and
+let&#8217;s have a comfortable chat?&#8217; &#8216;Oh no! <i>no</i>!&#8217; she said, &#8216;I&#8217;d <i>much</i>
+rather not. You know I do melt so <i>very</i> easily!&#8217; And she made me take
+her quite to the other side of the room, where it was <i>very</i> cold: and
+then she sat on my knee, and fanned herself with a pen-wiper, because
+she said she was afraid the end of her nose was beginning to melt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You&#8217;ve no <i>idea</i> how careful we have to be,&#8217; we dolls, she said.
+&#8216;Why, there was a sister of mine&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;she went up
+to the fire to warm her hands, and one of her hands dropped <i>right</i>
+off! There now!&#8217; &#8216;Of course it dropped <i>right</i> off,&#8217; I said, &#8216;because
+it was the <i>right</i> hand.&#8217; &#8216;And how do you know it was the <i>right</i>
+hand, Mister Carroll?&#8217; the doll said. So I said, &#8216;I think it must have
+been the <i>right</i> hand because the other hand was <i>left</i>.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The doll said, &#8216;I shan&#8217;t laugh. It&#8217;s a very bad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> joke. Why, even a
+common wooden doll could make a better joke than that. And besides,
+they&#8217;ve made my mouth so stiff and hard, that I <i>can&#8217;t</i> laugh if I try
+ever so much?&#8217; &#8216;Don&#8217;t be cross about it,&#8217; I said, &#8216;but tell me this:
+I&#8217;m going to give Birdie and the other children one photograph each,
+which ever they choose; which do you think Birdie will choose?&#8217; &#8216;I
+don&#8217;t know,&#8217; said the doll; &#8216;you&#8217;d better ask her!&#8217; So I took her home
+in a hansom cab. Which would you like, do you think? Arthur as Cupid?
+or Arthur and Wilfred together? or you and Ethel as beggar children?
+or Ethel standing on a box? or, one of yourself?&mdash;Your affectionate
+friend,</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll</span>.&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Among the bundle of letters and MS. before me, I find written on a half
+sheet of note-paper the following Ollendorfian dialogue. It is interesting
+because, slight and trivial as it is, it in some strange way bears the
+imprint of Lewis Carroll&#8217;s style. The thing is written in the familiar
+violet ink, and neatly dated in the corner 29/9/90:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s go and look at the house I want to buy. Now do be quick! You move
+so slow! What a time you take with your boots!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>&#8220;Don&#8217;t make such a row about it: it&#8217;s
+not two o&#8217;clock yet. How do you like <i>this</i> house?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like it. It&#8217;s too far down the hill. Let&#8217;s go higher. I heard a
+nice account of one at the top, built on an improved plan.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What does the rent amount to?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the rent&#8217;s all right: it&#8217;s only nine pounds a year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>Over all matters connected with letter writing, Lewis Carroll was
+accustomed to take great pains. All letters that he received that were of
+any interest or importance whatever he kept, putting them away in old
+biscuit tins, numbers of which he kept for the purpose.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img33.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">&#8220;DOLLY VARDEN&#8221;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>In 1888 he published a little book which he called &#8220;Eight or Nine Wise
+Words about Letter Writing,&#8221; and as this little book of mine is so full of
+letters, I think I can do no better than make a few extracts:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>&#8220;<i>Write Legibly.</i>&mdash;The average temper of the human race would be
+perceptibly sweeter if every one obeyed this rule! A great deal of the
+bad writing in the world comes simply from writing too quickly. Of
+course you reply, &#8216;I do it to save time.&#8217; A very good object, no
+doubt; but what right have you to do it at your friend&#8217;s expense?
+Isn&#8217;t <i>his</i> time as valuable as yours? Years ago I used to receive
+letters from a friend&mdash;and very interesting letters too&mdash;written in
+one of the most atrocious hands ever invented. It generally took me
+about a <i>week</i> to read one of his letters! I used to carry it about in
+my pocket, and take it out at leisure times, to puzzle over the
+riddles which composed it&mdash;holding it in different positions, and at
+different distances, till at last the meaning of some hopeless scrawl
+would flash upon me, when I at once wrote down the English under it;
+and, when several had thus been guessed, the context would help one
+with the others, till at last the whole series of hieroglyphics was
+deciphered. If <i>all</i> one&#8217;s friends wrote like that, life would be
+entirely spent in reading their letters.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In writing the last wise word, the author no doubt had some of his girl
+correspondents in his mind&#8217;s eye, for he says&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;<i>My Ninth Rule.</i>&mdash;When you get to the end of a note sheet, and find
+you have more to say, take another piece of paper&mdash;a whole sheet or a
+scrap, as the case may demand; but, whatever you do, <i>don&#8217;t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> cross</i>!
+Remember the old proverb, &#8216;Cross writing makes cross reading.&#8217; &#8216;The
+<i>old</i> proverb,&#8217; you say inquiringly; &#8216;how old?&#8217; Well, not so <i>very</i>
+ancient, I must confess. In fact I&#8217;m afraid I invented it while
+writing this paragraph. Still you know &#8216;old&#8217; is a comparative term. I
+think you would be <i>quite</i> justified in addressing a chicken just out
+of the shell as &#8216;Old Boy!&#8217; <i>when compared</i> with another chicken that
+was only half out!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>I have another diary to give to my readers, a diary that Lewis Carroll
+wrote for my sister Maggie when, a tiny child, she came to Oxford to play
+the child part, Mignon, in &#8220;Booties&#8217; Baby.&#8221; He was delighted with the
+pretty play, for the interest that the soldiers took in the little lost
+girl, and how a mere interest ripened into love, till the little Mignon
+was queen of the barracks, went straight to his heart. I give the diary in
+full:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>&#8220;MAGGIE&#8217;S VISIT TO OXFORD</p>
+<p><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="smcap">June 9 to 13, 1899</span></span></p>
+
+<p>When Maggie once to Oxford came<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On tour as &#8216;Booties&#8217; Baby,&#8217;</span><br />
+She said &#8216;I&#8217;ll see this place of fame,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">However dull the day be!&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+So with her friend she visited<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sights that it was rich in:</span><br />
+And first of all she poked her head<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Inside the Christ Church Kitchen.</span><br />
+<br />
+The cooks around that little child<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stood waiting in a ring:</span><br />
+And, every time that Maggie smiled,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those cooks began to sing&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8216;Roast, boil, and bake,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Maggie&#8217;s sake!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bring cutlets fine,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For <i>her</i> to dine:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Meringues so sweet,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For <i>her</i> to eat&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Maggie may be</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bootles&#8217; Baby!&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+Then hand-in-hand, in pleasant talk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They wandered, and admired</span><br />
+The Hall, Cathedral, and Broad Walk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till Maggie&#8217;s feet were tired:</span><br />
+<br />
+One friend they called upon&mdash;her name<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was Mrs. Hassall&mdash;then</span><br />
+Into a College Room they came,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some savage Monster&#8217;s Den!</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8216;And, when that Monster dined, I guess<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">He tore her limb from limb?&#8217;</span><br />
+Well, no: in fact, I must confess<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That <i>Maggie dined with him</i>!</span><br />
+<br />
+To Worcester Garden next they strolled&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Admired its quiet lake:</span><br />
+Then to St. John&#8217;s, a College old,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their devious way they take.</span><br />
+<br />
+In idle mood they sauntered round<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its lawns so green and flat:</span><br />
+And in that Garden Maggie found<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A lovely Pussey-Cat!</span><br />
+<br />
+A quarter of an hour they spent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In wandering to and fro:</span><br />
+And everywhere that Maggie went,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Cat was sure to go&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8216;Miaow! Miaow!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come, make your bow!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Take off your hats,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ye Pussy Cats!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And purr, and purr,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To welcome <i>her</i>&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Maggie may be</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bootles&#8217; Baby!&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+So back to Christ Church&mdash;not too late<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For them to go and see</span><br />
+A Christ Church Undergraduate,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who gave them cakes and tea.</span><br />
+<br />
+Next day she entered, with her guide,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Garden called &#8216;Botanic&#8217;:</span><br />
+And there a fierce Wild-Boar she spied,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enough to cause a panic!</span><br />
+<br />
+But Maggie didn&#8217;t mind, not she!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She would have faced <i>alone</i>,</span><br />
+That fierce Wild-Boar, because, you see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thing was made of stone!</span><br />
+<br />
+On Magdalen walls they saw a face<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That filled her with delight,</span><br />
+A giant-face, that made grimace<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grinned with all its might!</span><br />
+<br />
+A little friend, industrious,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pulled upwards, all the while,</span><br />
+The corner of its mouth, and thus<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He helped that face to smile!</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8216;How nice,&#8217; thought Maggie, &#8216;it would be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If <i>I</i> could have a friend</span><br />
+To do that very thing for <i>me</i>,<br />
+And make my mouth turn up with glee,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By pulling at one end!&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+In Magdalen Park the deer are wild<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With joy that Maggie brings</span><br />
+Some bread a friend had given the child,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To feed the pretty things.</span><br />
+<br />
+They flock round Maggie without fear:<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">They breakfast and they lunch,</span><br />
+They dine, they sup, those happy deer&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still, as they munch and munch,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8216;Yes, Deer are we,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And dear is she!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We love this child</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So sweet and mild:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We all rejoice</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At Maggie&#8217;s voice:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We all are fed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With Maggie&#8217;s bread&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Maggie may be</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bootles&#8217; Baby!&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+To Pembroke College next they go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where little Maggie meets</span><br />
+The Master&#8217;s wife and daughter: so<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once more into the streets.</span><br />
+<br />
+They met a Bishop on their way&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Bishop large as life&mdash;</span><br />
+With loving smile that seemed to say<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8216;Will Maggie be my wife?&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+Maggie thought <i>not</i>, because, you see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She was so <i>very</i> young,</span><br />
+And he was old as old could be&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So Maggie held her tongue.</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8216;My Lord, she&#8217;s <i>Bootles&#8217; Baby</i>: we<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are going up and down,&#8217;</span><br />
+Her friend explained, &#8216;that she may see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sights of Oxford-town.&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8216;Now say what kind of place it is!&#8217;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bishop gaily cried.</span><br />
+&#8216;The best place in the Provinces!&#8217;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That little maid replied.</span><br />
+<br />
+Next to New College, where they saw<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two players hurl about</span><br />
+A hoop, but by what rule or law<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They could not quite make out.</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8216;Ringo&#8217; the Game is called, although<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8216;Les Graces&#8217; was once its name,</span><br />
+When <i>it</i> was&mdash;as its name will show&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A much more <i>graceful</i> Game.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Misses Symonds next they sought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who begged the child to take</span><br />
+A book they long ago had bought&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A gift for friendship&#8217;s sake!</span><br />
+<br />
+Away, next morning, Maggie went<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Oxford-town: but yet</span><br />
+The happy hours she there had spent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She could not soon forget.</span><br />
+<br />
+The train is gone: it rumbles on:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The engine-whistle screams:</span><br />
+But Maggie&#8217;s deep in rosy sleep&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And softly, in her dreams,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whispers the Battle-cry of Freedom!</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8216;Oxford, good-bye!&#8217;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She seems to sigh,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8216;You dear old City,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With Gardens pretty,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And lawns, and flowers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And College-towers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Tom&#8217;s great Bell&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Farewell, farewell!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Maggie may be</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Booties&#8217; Baby!&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll.</span>&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img34.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="caption">&#8220;A TURK&#8221;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>The tale has been often told of how &#8220;Alice in Wonderland&#8221; came to be
+written, but it is a tale so well worth the telling again, that, very
+shortly, I will give it to you here.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago in the great quadrangle of Christ Church, opposite to Mr.
+Dodgson, lived the little daughters of Dean Liddell, the great Greek
+scholar and Dean of Christ Church. The little girls were great friends of
+Mr. Dodgson&#8217;s, and they used often to come to him and to plead with him
+for a fairy tale. There was never such a teller of tales, they thought!
+One can imagine the whole delightful scene with little trouble.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> That big
+cool room on some summer&#8217;s afternoon, when the air was heavy with flower
+scents, and the sounds that came floating in through the open window were
+all mellowed by the distance. One can see him, that good and kindly
+gentleman, his mobile face all aglow with interest and love, telling the
+immortal story.</p>
+
+<p>Round him on his knee sat the little sisters, their eyes wide open and
+their lips parted in breathless anticipation. When Alice (how the little
+Alice Liddell who was listening must have loved the tale!) rubbed the
+mushroom and became so big that she quite filled the little fairy house,
+one can almost hear the rapturous exclamations of the little ones as they
+heard of it.</p>
+
+<p>The story, often continued on many summer afternoons, sometimes in the
+cool Christ Church rooms, sometimes in a slow gliding boat in a still
+river between banks of rushes and strange bronze and yellow waterflowers,
+or sometimes in a great hay-field, with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> insects whispering in the
+grass all round, grew in its conception and idea.</p>
+
+<p>Other folk, older folk, came to hear of it from the little ones, and Mr.
+Dodgson was begged to write it down. Accordingly the first MS. was
+prepared with great care and illustrated by the author. Then, in 1865,
+memorable year for English children, &#8220;Alice&#8221; appeared in its present form,
+with Sir John Tenniel&#8217;s drawings.</p>
+
+<p>In 1872 &#8220;Alice Through the Looking-Glass,&#8221; appeared, and was received as
+warmly as its predecessor. That fact, I think, proves most conclusively
+that Lewis Carroll&#8217;s success was a success of absolute merit, and due to
+no mere mood or fashion of the public taste. I can conceive nothing more
+difficult for a man who has had a great success with one book than to
+write a sequel which should worthily succeed it. In the present case that
+is exactly what Lewis Carroll did. &#8220;Through the Looking-Glass&#8221; is every
+whit as popular and charming as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> the older book. Indeed one depends very
+much upon the other, and in every child&#8217;s book-shelves one sees the two
+masterpieces side by side.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><small><a href="#charade_text">Text of A Charade</a></small></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img35.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img36.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img37.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p><a name="charade" id="charade"></a>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>While on the subject of the two &#8220;Alices,&#8221; I will put in a letter that he
+wrote mentioning his books. He was so modest about them, that it was
+extremely difficult to get him to say, or write, anything at all about
+them. I believe it was a far greater pleasure for him to know that he had
+pleased some child with &#8220;Alice&#8221; or &#8220;The Hunting of the Snark,&#8221; than it was
+to be hailed by the press and public as the first living writer for
+children.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Eastbourne.</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">My own darling Isa</span>,&mdash;The full value of a copy of the French &#8216;Alice&#8217;
+is &pound;45: but, as you want the &#8216;cheapest&#8217; kind, and as you are a great
+friend of mine, and as I am of a very noble, generous disposition, I
+have made up my mind to a <i>great</i> sacrifice, and have taken &pound;3, 10s.
+0d. off the price. So that you do not owe me more than &pound;41, 10s. 0d.,
+and this you can pay me, in gold or bank-notes <i>as soon as you ever
+like</i>. Oh dear! I wonder why I write such nonsense! Can you explain to
+me, my pet, how it happens that when I take up my pen to write a
+letter to <i>you</i> it won&#8217;t write sense? Do you think the rule is that
+when the pen finds it has to write to a nonsensical good-for-nothing
+child, it sets to work to write a nonsensical good-for-nothing letter?
+Well, now I&#8217;ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> tell you the real truth. As Miss Kitty Wilson is a
+dear friend of yours, of course she&#8217;s a <i>sort</i> of a friend of mine. So
+I thought (in my vanity) &#8216;perhaps she would like to have a copy&#8217; from
+the author, &#8216;with her name written in it.&#8217; So I&#8217;ve sent her one&mdash;but I
+hope she&#8217;ll understand that I do it because she&#8217;s <i>your</i> friend, for,
+you see, I had never <i>heard</i> of her before: so I wouldn&#8217;t have any
+other reason.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m still exactly &#8216;on the balance&#8217; (like those scales of mine, when
+Nellie says &#8216;it won&#8217;t weigh!&#8217;) as to whether it would be wise to have
+my pet Isa down here! how <i>am</i> I to make it weigh, I wonder? Can you
+advise any way to do it? I&#8217;m getting on grandly with &#8216;Sylvie and Bruno
+Concluded.&#8217; I&#8217;m afraid you&#8217;ll expect me to give you a copy of it?
+Well, I&#8217;ll see if I have one to spare. It won&#8217;t be out before
+Easter-tide, I&#8217;m afraid.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder what sort of condition the book is in that I lent you to
+take to America? (&#8216;Laneton Parsonage,&#8217; I mean). Very shabby, I expect.
+I find lent books <i>never</i> come back in good condition. However, I&#8217;ve
+got a second copy of this book, so you may keep it as your own. Love
+and kisses to any one you know who is lovely and kissable.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;Always your loving Uncle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">&#8220;C. L. D.&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>In 1876 appeared the long poem called the &#8220;Hunting of the Snark; or, An
+Agony in Eight Fits,&#8221; and besides those verses we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> have from Lewis
+Carroll&#8217;s pen two books called &#8220;Phantasmagoria&#8221; and &#8220;Rhyme and Reason.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The last work of his that attained any great celebrity was &#8220;Sylvie and
+Bruno,&#8221; a curious romance, half fairy tale, half mathematical treatise.
+Mr. Dodgson was employed of late years on his &#8220;Symbolic Logic,&#8221; only one
+part of which has been published, and he seems to have been influenced by
+his studies. One can easily trace the trail of the logician in Sylvie and
+Bruno, and perhaps this resulted in a certain lack of &#8220;form.&#8221; However,
+some of the nonsense verses in this book were up to the highest level of
+the author&#8217;s achievement. Even as I write the verse comes to me&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;He thought he saw a kangaroo<br />
+Turning a coffee-mill;<br />
+He looked again, and found it was<br />
+A vegetable pill!<br />
+&#8216;Were I to swallow you,&#8217; he said,<br />
+&#8216;I should be very ill&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>The fascinating jingle stays in the memory when graver verse eludes all
+effort at recollection. I personally could repeat &#8220;The Walrus and the
+Carpenter&#8221; from beginning to end without hesitation, but I should find a
+difficulty in writing ten lines of &#8220;Hamlet&#8221; correctly.</p>
+
+<p>At the beginning of &#8220;Sylvie and Bruno&#8221; is a little poem in three verses
+which forms an acrostic on my name. I quote it&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Is all our life, then, but a dream,<br />
+Seen faintly in the golden gleam<br />
+Athwart Time&#8217;s dark resistless stream?<br />
+<br />
+Bowed to the earth with bitter woe,<br />
+Or laughing at some raree-show,<br />
+We flutter idly to and fro.<br />
+<br />
+Man&#8217;s little day in haste we spend,<br />
+And, from its merry noontide, send<br />
+No glance to meet the silent end.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>You see that if you take the first letter of each line, or if you take the
+first three letters of the first line of each verse, you get the name Isa
+Bowman.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><small><a href="#prologue_text">Text of Prologue</a></small></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img38.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p><a name="prologue" id="prologue"></a>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>Although he never wrote anything in the dramatic line, he once wrote a
+prologue for some private theatricals, which was to be spoken by Miss
+Hatch and her brother. This prologue is reproduced in facsimile on the
+preceding page.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hatch has also sent me a charade (reproduced on pp. <a href="#Page_108">108-10</a>) which he
+wrote for her, and illustrated with some of his funny drawings.</p>
+
+<p>I have one more letter, the last, which, as it mentions the book &#8220;Sylvie
+and Bruno,&#8221; I will give now.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Christ Church</span>,<br />
+&#8220;<i>May 16, &#8217;90</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Dearest Isa</span>,&mdash;I had this (&#8216;this&#8217; was &#8216;Sylvie and Bruno&#8217;) bound for
+you when the book first came out, and it&#8217;s been waiting here ever
+since Dec. 17, for I really didn&#8217;t dare to send it across the
+Atlantic&mdash;the whales are so inconsiderate. They&#8217;d have been sure to
+want to borrow it to show to the little whales, quite forgetting that
+the salt water would be sure to spoil it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Also, I&#8217;ve only been waiting for you to get back to send Emsie the
+&#8216;Nursery Alice.&#8217; I give it to the youngest in a family generally; but
+I&#8217;ve given one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> to Maggie as well, because she travels about so much,
+and I thought she would like to have one to take with her. I hope
+Nellie&#8217;s eyes won&#8217;t get <i>quite</i> green with jealousy, at two (indeed
+<i>three</i>!) of her sisters getting presents, and nothing for her! I&#8217;ve
+nothing but my love to send her to-day: but she shall have <i>something
+some</i> day.&mdash;Ever your loving</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Uncle Charles</span>.&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+
+<p>Socially, Lewis Carroll was of strong conservative tendencies. He viewed
+with wonder and a little pain the absolute levelling tendencies of the
+last few years of his life. I have before me an extremely interesting
+letter which deals with social observances, and from which I am able to
+make one or two extracts. The bulk of the letter is of a private nature.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;Ladies have &#8216;to be <i>much</i>&#8217; more particular than gentlemen in
+observing the distinctions of what is called &#8216;social position&#8217;: and
+the <i>lower</i> their own position is (in the scale of &#8216;lady&#8217; ship), the
+more jealous they seem to be in guarding it.... I&#8217;ve met with just the
+same thing myself from people several degrees above me. Not long ago I
+was staying in a house along with a young lady (about twenty years
+old, I should think) with a title of her own, as she was an earl&#8217;s
+daughter. I happened to sit next<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> her at dinner, and every time I
+spoke to her, she looked at me more as if she was looking down on me
+from about a mile up in the air, and as if she were saying to herself
+&#8216;How <i>dare</i> you speak to <i>me</i>! Why, you&#8217;re not good enough to black my
+shoes!&#8217; It was so unpleasant, that, next day at luncheon, I got as far
+off her as I could!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course we are all <i>quite</i> equal in God&#8217;s sight, but we <i>do</i> make a
+lot of distinctions (some of them quite unmeaning) among ourselves!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>The picture that this letter gives of the famous writer and learned
+mathematician obviously rather in terror of some pert young lady fresh
+from the schoolroom is not without its comic side. One cannot help
+imagining that the girl must have been very young indeed, for if he were
+alive to-day there are few ladies of any state who would not feel honoured
+by the presence of Charles Dodgson.</p>
+
+<p>However, he was not always so unfortunate in his experience of great
+people, and the following letter, written when he was staying with Lord
+Salisbury at Hatfield House, tells delightfully of his little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> royal
+friends, the Duchess of Albany&#8217;s children:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="right">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Hatfield House, Hatfield</span>,<br />
+&#8220;<span class="smcap">Herts</span>, <i>June 8, &#8217;89</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">My darling Isa</span>,&mdash;I hope this will find you, but I haven&#8217;t yet had any
+letter from <i>Fulham</i>, so I can&#8217;t be sure if you have yet got into your
+new house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is Lord Salisbury&#8217;s house (he is the father, you know, of that
+Lady Maud Wolmer that we had luncheon with): I came yesterday, and I&#8217;m
+going to stay until Monday. It is such a nice house to stay in! They
+let one do just as one likes&mdash;it isn&#8217;t &#8216;Now you must do some
+geography! now it&#8217;s time for your sums!&#8217; the sort of life <i>some</i>
+little girls have to lead when they are so foolish as to visit
+friends&mdash;but one can just please one&#8217;s own dear self.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are some sweet little children staying in the house. Dear
+little &#8216;Wang&#8217; is here with her mother. By the way, <i>I</i> made a mistake
+in telling you what to call her. She is &#8216;the Honourable Mabel
+<i>Palmer</i>&#8217;&mdash;&#8216;Palmer&#8217; is the family name: &#8216;Wolmer&#8217; is the <i>title</i>, just
+as the <i>family</i> name of Lord Salisbury is &#8216;Cecil,&#8217; so that his
+daughter was Lady Maud Cecil, till she married.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then there is the Duchess of Albany here, with two such sweet little
+children. She is the widow of Prince Leopold (the Queen&#8217;s youngest
+son), so her children are a Prince and Princess: the girl is &#8216;Alice,&#8217;
+but I don&#8217;t know the boy&#8217;s Christian name: they call him &#8216;Albany,&#8217;
+because he is the Duke of Albany.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> Now that I have made friends with a
+real live little Princess, I don&#8217;t intend ever to <i>speak</i> to any more
+children that haven&#8217;t any titles. In fact, I&#8217;m so proud, and I hold my
+chin so high, that I shouldn&#8217;t even <i>see</i> you if we met! No, darlings,
+you mustn&#8217;t believe <i>that</i>. If I made friends with a <i>dozen</i>
+Princesses, I would love you better than all of them together, even if
+I had them all rolled up into a sort of child-roly-poly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Love to Nellie and Emsie.&mdash;Your ever loving Uncle,</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">&#8220;C. L. D.&#8221;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">X X X X X X X</span></p></div>
+
+<p>And now I think that I have done all that has been in my power to present
+Lewis Carroll to you in his most delightful aspect&mdash;as a friend to
+children. I have not pretended in any way to write an exhaustive
+life-story of the man who was so dear to me, but by the aid of the letters
+and the diaries that I have been enabled to publish, and by the few
+reminiscences that I have given you of Lewis Carroll as I knew him, I hope
+I have done something to bring still nearer to your hearts the memory of
+the greatest friend that children ever had.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><strong>Footnotes:</strong></p>
+
+<p><a name="f1" id="f1" href="#f1.1">[1]</a> This refers to my visit to America when, as a child, I played the
+little Duke of York in &#8220;Richard III.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="f2" id="f2" href="#f2.1">[2]</a> At this point the real child&#8217;s answers begin, the three or four lines
+alone were written by Mr. Dodgson himself.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><a name="diary_text" id="diary_text"></a></p>
+<p>Text of Diary</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="u">Isa&#8217;s Visit to Oxford.</span><br />
+1888.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><br /><span class="u">Chap. I.</span></p>
+
+<p>On Wednesday, the Eleventh of July, Isa happened to meet a friend at
+Paddington Station at half-past-ten. She can&#8217;t remember his name, but
+she says he was an old old old gentleman, and he had invited her, she
+thinks, to go with him somewhere or other, she can&#8217;t remember where.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><br /><span class="u">Chap. II.</span></p>
+
+<p>The first thing they did, after calling at a shop, was to go to the
+Panorama of the &#8220;Falls of Niagara&#8221;. Isa thought it very wonderful. You
+seemed to be on the top of a tower, with miles and miles of country
+all round you. The things in front were real, and somehow they joined
+into the picture behind, so that you couldn&#8217;t tell where the real
+things ended and the picture began. Near the foot of the Falls, there
+was a steam-packet crossing the river, which showed what a tremendous
+height the Falls must be, it looked so tiny. In the road in front were
+two men and a dog, standing looking the other way. They may have been
+wooden figures, or part of the picture, there was no knowing which.
+The man, who stood next to Isa, said to another man &#8220;That dog looked
+round just now. Now see, I&#8217;ll whistle to him, and make him look round
+again!&#8221; And he began whistling: and Isa almost expected, it looked so
+exactly like a real dog, that it would turn its head to see who was
+calling it!</p>
+
+<p>After that Isa and her friend (the Aged Aged Man) went to the house of
+a Mr Dymes. Mrs Dymes gave them some dinner, and two of her children,
+called Helen and Maud, went with them to Terry&#8217;s Theatre, to see the
+play of &#8220;Little Lord Fauntleroy&#8221;. Little V&eacute;ra Beringer was the little
+Lord Fauntleroy. Isa would have liked to play the part, but the
+Manager at the Theatre did not allow her, as she did not know the
+words, which would have made it go off badly. Isa liked the whole play
+very much: the passionate old Earl, and the gentle Mother of the
+little boy, and the droll &#8220;Mr. Hobbs&#8221;, and all of them.</p>
+
+<p>Then they all went off by the Metropolitan Railway, and the two Miss
+Dymeses got out at their station, and Isa and the A.A.M. went on to
+Oxford. A kind old lady, called Mrs Symonds, had invited Isa to come
+and sleep at her house: and she was soon fast asleep, and dreaming
+that she and little Lord Fauntleroy were going in a steamer down the
+Falls of Niagara, and whistling to a dog, who was in such a hurry to
+go up the Falls that he wouldn&#8217;t attend to them.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><br /><span class="u">Chap. III.</span></p>
+
+<p>The next morning Isa set off, almost before she was awake, with the
+A.A.M., to pay a visit to a little College, called &#8220;Christ Church&#8221;.
+You go in under a magnificent tower, called &#8220;Tom Tower&#8221;, nearly four
+feet high (so that Isa had hardly to stoop at all, to go under it)
+into the Great Quadrangle (which very vulgar people call &#8220;Tom Quad&#8221;.)
+You should always be polite, even when speaking to a Quadrangle: it
+might seem not to take any notice, but it doesn&#8217;t like being called
+names. On their way to Christ Church they saw a tall monument, like
+the spire of a church, called the &#8220;Martyrs&#8217; Memorial&#8221;, put up in
+memory of three Bishops, Cranmer, Ridley and Latimer, who were burned
+in the reign of Queen Mary, because they would not be Roman Catholics.
+Christ Church was built in 1546.</p>
+
+<p>They had breakfast at Ch. Ch., in the rooms of the A.A.M., and then
+Isa learned how to print with the &#8220;Typewriter&#8221;, and printed several
+beautiful volumes of poetry, all of her own invention. By this time it
+was 1 o&#8217;clock, so Isa paid a visit to the Kitchen, to make sure that
+the chicken, for her dinner, was being properly roasted The Kitchen is
+about the oldest part of the College, so was built about 1546. It has
+a fire-grate large enough to roast forty legs of mutton at once.</p>
+
+<p>Then they saw the Dining Hall, in which the A.A.M. has dined several
+times, (about 8,000 times, perhaps). After dinner, they went, through
+the quadrangle of the Bodleian Library, into Broad Street, and, as a
+band was just going by, of course they followed it. (Isa likes Bands
+better than anything in the world, except Lands, and walking on Sands,
+and wringing her Hands). The Band led them into the gardens of Wadham
+College (built in 1613), where there was a school-treat going on. The
+treat was, first marching twice round the garden&mdash;then having a
+photograph done of them, all in a row&mdash;then a <span class="u">promise</span> of &#8220;Punch and
+Judy&#8221;, which wouldn&#8217;t be ready for 20 minutes, so Isa, and Co.,
+wouldn&#8217;t wait, but went back to Ch. Ch., and saw the &#8220;Broad Walk.&#8221; In
+the evening they played at &#8220;Reversi&#8221;, till Isa had lost the small
+remainder of her temper. Then she went to bed, and dreamed she was
+Judy, and was beating Punch with a stick of Barley-sugar.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><br /><span class="u">Chap. IV.</span></p>
+
+<p>On Friday morning (after taking her medicine very amiably), went with
+the A.A.M. (who <span class="u">would</span> go with her, though she told him over and over
+she would rather be alone) to the gardens of Worcester College (built
+in 1714) where they didn&#8217;t see the swans (who ought to have been on
+the lake), nor the hippopotamus, who ought not to have been walking
+about among the flowers, gathering honey like a busy bee.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, Isa helped the A.A.M. to pack his luggage, because he
+thought he would go away, he didn&#8217;t know where, some day, he didn&#8217;t
+know when&mdash;so she put a lot of things, she didn&#8217;t know what, into
+boxes, she didn&#8217;t know which.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner they went to St. John&#8217;s College (built in 1555), and
+admired the large lawn, where more than 150 ladies, dressed in robes
+of gold and silver, were not walking about.</p>
+
+<p>Then they saw the Chapel of Keble College (built in 1870) and then
+the New Museum, where Isa quite lost her heart to a charming stuffed
+Gorilla, that smiled on her from a glass case. The Museum was finished
+in 1860. The most curious thing they saw there was a &#8220;Walking Leaf,&#8221; a
+kind of insect that looks exactly like a withered leaf.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went to New College (built in 1386), &amp; saw, close to the
+entrance, a &#8220;skew&#8221; arch (going slantwise through the wall) one of the
+first ever built in England. After seeing the gardens, they returned
+to Ch. Ch. (Parts of the old City walls run round the gardens of New
+College: and you may still see some of the old narrow slits, through
+which the defenders could shoot arrows at the attacking army, who
+could hardly succeed in shooting through them from the outside).</p>
+
+<p>They had tea with Mrs Paget, wife of Dr. Paget one of the Canons of
+Ch. Ch. Then, after a sorrowful evening, Isa went to bed, and dreamed
+she was buzzing about among the flowers, with the dear Gorilla: but
+there wasn&#8217;t any honey in them&mdash;only slices of bread-and-butter, and
+multiplication-tables.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><br /><span class="u">Chap. V.</span></p>
+
+<p>On Saturday Isa had a Music Lesson, and learned to play on an American
+Orguinette. It is not a <span class="u">very</span> difficult instrument to play, as you only
+have to turn a handle round and round: so she did it nicely. You put a
+long piece of paper in, and it goes through the machine, and the holes
+in the paper make different notes play. They put one in wrong end
+first, and had a tune backwards, and soon found themselves in the day
+before yesterday: so they dared not go on, for fear of making Isa so
+young she would not be able to talk. The A.A.M. does not like visitors
+who only howl, and get red in the face, from morning to night.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon they went round Ch. Ch. meadow, and saw the Barges
+belonging to the Colleges, and some pretty views of Magdalen Tower
+through the trees.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went through the Botanical Gardens, built in the year&mdash;&mdash;no,
+by the bye, they never were built at all. And then to Magdalen
+College. At the top of the wall, in one corner, they saw a very large
+jolly face, carved in stone, with a broad grin, and a little man at
+the side, helping him to laugh by pulling up the corner of his mouth
+for him. Isa thought that, the next time she wants to laugh, she will
+get Nellie and Maggie to help her. With two people to pull up the
+corners of your mouth for you, it is as easy to laugh as can be!</p>
+
+<p>They went into Magdalen Meadow, which has a pretty walk all round it,
+arched over with trees: and there they met a lady &#8220;from Amurrica,&#8221; as
+she told them, who wanted to know the way to &#8220;Addison&#8217;s Walk,&#8221; and
+particularly wanted to know if there would be &#8220;any danger&#8221; in going
+there. They told her the way, and that <span class="u">most</span> of the lions and tigers
+and buffaloes, round the meadow, were quite gentle and hardly ever
+killed people: so she set off, pale and trembling, and they saw her
+no more: only they heard her screams in the distance: so they guessed
+what had happened to her</p>
+
+<p>Then they rode in a tram-car to another part of Oxford, and called on
+a lady called Mrs Jeane, and her little grand-daughter, called &#8220;No&euml;l&#8221;,
+because she was born on Christmas-Day. (&#8220;No&euml;l&#8221; is the French name for
+&#8220;Christmas&#8221;.) And there they had so much Tea that at last Isa nearly
+turned into a &#8220;Teaser&#8221;.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went home, down a little narrow street, where there was a
+little dog standing fixed in the middle of the street, as if its feet
+were glued to the ground: they asked it how long it meant to stand
+there, and it said (as well as it could) &#8220;till the week after next&#8221;.</p>
+
+<p>Then Isa went to bed, and dreamed she was going round Magdalen Meadow,
+with the &#8220;Amurrican&#8221; lady, and there was a buffalo sitting at the top
+of every tree, handing her cups of tea as she went underneath: but
+they all held the cups upside-down, so that the tea poured all over
+her head and ran down her face.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><br /><span class="u">Chap. VI.</span></p>
+
+<p>On Sunday morning they went to St. Mary&#8217;s church, in High Street. In
+coming home, down the street next to the one where they had found a
+fixed dog, they found a fixed cat&mdash;a poor little kitten, that had put
+out its head through the bars of the cellar-window, and get back
+again. They rang the bell at the next door, but the maid said the
+cellar wasn&#8217;t in that house, and, before they could get to the right
+door the cat had unfixed its head&mdash;&mdash;either from its neck or from the
+bars, and had gone inside. Isa thought the animals in this city have a
+curious way of fixing themselves up and down the place, as if they
+were hat-pegs.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went back to Ch. Ch., and looked at a lot of dresses, which
+the A.A.M kept in a cupboard, to dress up children in, when they come
+to be photographed. Some of the dresses had been used in Pantomimes at
+Drury Lane: some were rags, to dress up beggar-children in: some had
+been very magnificent once, but were getting quite old and shabby.
+Talking of old dresses, there is one College in Oxford, so old that it
+is not known for certain when it was built The people, who live there,
+say it was built more than 1000 years ago: and, when they say this,
+the people who live in the other Colleges never contradict them, but
+listen most respectfully&mdash;&mdash;only they wink a little with one eye, as
+if they didn&#8217;t <span class="u">quite</span> believe it.</p>
+
+<p>The same day, Isa saw a curious book of pictures of ghosts. If you
+look hard at one for a minute, and then look at the ceiling, you see
+another ghost there: only, when you have a black one in the book, it
+is a <span class="u">white</span> one on the ceiling: when it is green in the book, it is
+<span class="u">pink</span> on the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>In the middle of the day, as usual, Isa had her dinner: but this time
+it was grander than usual. There was a dish of &#8220;Meringues&#8221; (this is
+pronounced &#8220;Marangs&#8221;), which Isa thought so good that she would have
+liked to live on them all the rest of her life.</p>
+
+<p>They took a little walk in the afternoon, and in the middle of Broad
+Street they saw a cross buried in the ground, very near the place
+where the Martyrs were burned. Then they went into the gardens of
+Trinity College (built in 1554) to see the &#8220;Lime Walk&#8221;, a pretty
+little avenue of lime-trees. The great iron &#8220;gates&#8221; at the end of the
+garden are not real gates, but all done in one piece: and they
+couldn&#8217;t open them, even if you knocked all day. Isa thought them a
+miserable sham.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went into the &#8220;Parks&#8221; (this word doesn&#8217;t mean &#8220;parks of
+grass, with trees and deer,&#8221; but &#8220;parks&#8221; of guns: that is, great rows
+of cannons, which stood there when King Charles the First was in
+Oxford, and Oliver Cromwell fighting against him.</p>
+
+<p>They saw &#8220;Mansfield College&#8221;, a new College just begun to be built,
+with such tremendously narrow windows that Isa was afraid the young
+gentlemen who come there will not be able to see to learn their
+lessons, and will go away from Oxford just as wise as they came.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went to the evening service at New College, and heard some
+beautiful singing and organ-playing. Then back to Ch. Ch., in pouring
+rain. Isa tried to count the drops: but, when she had counted four
+millions, three hundred and seventy-eight thousand, two hundred and
+forty-seven, she got tired of counting, and left off.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner, Isa got somebody or other (she is not sure who it was)
+to finish this story for her. Then she went to bed, and dreamed she
+was fixed in the middle of Oxford, with her feet fast to the ground,
+and her head between the bars of a cellar-window, in a sort of final
+tableau. Then she dreamed the curtain came down, and the people all
+called out &#8220;encore!&#8221; But she cried out &#8220;Oh, not again! It would be <span class="u">too</span>
+dreadful to have my visit all over again!&#8221; But, on second thoughts,
+she smiled in her sleep, and said &#8220;Well, do you know, after all, I
+think I wouldn&#8217;t mind so very much if I <span class="u">did</span> have it all over again!&#8221;.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">Lewis Carroll.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">THE END</p>
+
+<p><small><a href="#diary">Return to end of Diary.</a></small></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><a name="charade_text" id="charade_text"></a></p>
+<p>Text of A Charade.</p>
+
+<p class="right">B.H.<br />
+from C. L. D.</p>
+
+<p class="center">A CHARADE.</p>
+
+<div class="note">
+<p>[NB FIVE POUNDS will be given to any one who succeeds in writing an
+original poetical Charade, introducing the line &#8220;My First is followed by a
+bird,&#8221; but making no use of the answer to this Charade.<span class="spacer">&nbsp;</span>Ap 8 1878</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">(signed)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Lewis Carroll</span></p></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="poem">My First is a singular at best<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More plural is my Second.</span><br />
+My Third is far the pluralest&mdash;<br />
+So plural-plural, I protest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It scarcely can be reckoned!</span><br />
+<br />
+My First is followed by a bird<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Second by believers</span><br />
+In magic art: my simple Third<br />
+Follows, too often, hopes absurd,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And plausible deceivers.</span><br />
+<br />
+My First to get at wisdom tries&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A failure melancholy!</span><br />
+My Second men revere as wise:<br />
+My Third from heights of wisdom fall<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To depths of frantic folly!</span><br />
+<br />
+My First is ageing day by day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Second&#8217;s age is ended.</span><br />
+My Third enjoys an age, they say,<br />
+That never seems to fade away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through centuries extended!</span><br />
+<br />
+My Whole? I need a Poet&#8217;s pen<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To paint her myriad phases</span><br />
+The monarch, and the slave, of men&mdash;<br />
+A mountain-summit, and a den<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of dark and deadly mazes!</span><br />
+<br />
+A flashing light&mdash;a fleeting shade&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beginning, end, and middle</span><br />
+Of all that human art hath made,<br />
+Or wit devised &#8220;Go, seek her aid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you would guess my riddle.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p><small><a href="#charade">Return to end of A Charade.</a></small></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p>Text of Prologue.</p>
+<p><a name="prologue_text" id="prologue_text"></a></p>
+<p class="center">Prologue</p>
+
+<p class="note">[Enter Beatrice, leading Wilfred She leaves him to centre (front) &amp; after
+going round on tip-toe to make sure they are not overheard returns &amp; takes his arm.]</p>
+
+<p class="poem">B. &#8220;Wiffie! I&#8217;m sure that something is the matter!<br />
+All day there&#8217;s been&mdash;oh such a fuss and clatter!<br />
+Mamma&#8217;s been trying on a funny dress&mdash;<br />
+I never <span class="u">saw</span> the house in such a mess!<br />
+(puts her arm round his neck)<br />
+Is there a secret, Wiffie?&#8221;<br />
+<br />
+W. (Shaking her off) &#8220;yes, of course!&#8221;<br />
+<br />
+B. &#8220;And you won&#8217;t tell it? (whispers) Then you&#8217;re very cross!<br />
+(turns away from, &amp; clasps her hands, looking up ecstatically)<br />
+I&#8217;m sure of <span class="u">this</span>! It&#8217;s something <span class="u">quite</span> uncommon!&#8221;<br />
+<br />
+W. (stretching up his arms with a mock-heroic air)<br />
+&#8220;Oh, Curiosity! Thy name is Woman!<br />
+(puts his arm round her coaxingly)<br />
+Well, Birdie, then I&#8217;ll tell. (mysteriously) What should you say<br />
+If they were going to act&mdash;a little play?&#8221;<br />
+<br />
+B. (jumping and clapping her hands)<br />
+&#8220;I&#8217;d say &#8216;<span class="u">How nice</span>!&#8217;&#8221;<br />
+<br />
+W. (pointing to audience)<br />
+&#8220;But will it please the rest?&#8221;<br />
+<br />
+B. &#8220;Oh <span class="u">yes</span>! Because, you know, they&#8217;ll do their best!<br />
+[turns to audience]<br />
+&#8220;You&#8217;ll praise them, won&#8217;t you, when you&#8217;ve seen the play?<br />
+Just say &#8216;<span class="u">How nice</span>!&#8217; before you go away!&#8221;<br />
+[they run away hand in hand].<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Feb 14. 1873.</span></p>
+
+<p><small><a href="#prologue">Return to end of Prologue.</a></small></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Lewis Carroll, by Isa Bowman
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Lewis Carroll, by Isa Bowman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Story of Lewis Carroll
+       Told for Young People by the Real Alice in Wonderland
+
+Author: Isa Bowman
+
+Release Date: April 29, 2011 [EBook #35990]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF LEWIS CARROLL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Miss Isa Bowman as Alice in "Alice in Wonderland"_]
+
+
+
+
+  THE STORY OF
+  LEWIS CARROLL
+
+  TOLD FOR YOUNG PEOPLE BY
+  THE REAL ALICE IN WONDERLAND
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN
+
+
+  WITH A DIARY AND NUMEROUS
+  FACSIMILE LETTERS WRITTEN TO
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN AND
+  OTHERS. ALSO MANY SKETCHES
+  AND PHOTOS BY LEWIS CARROLL
+  AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+  NEW YORK
+  E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
+  31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
+  1900
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1899
+  BY E. P. DUTTON & CO.
+
+
+  The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                              PAGE
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN (IN PHOTOGRAVURE)                 _Frontispiece_
+
+  LEWIS CARROLL'S ROOM IN OXFORD                                 9
+
+  C. L. DODGSON                                                 13
+
+  A CHINAMAN                                                    17
+
+  BEGGAR CHILDREN                                               35
+
+  ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON                                     59
+
+  LEWIS CARROLL'S HOUSE AT EASTBOURNE                           65
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN AND MISS BESSIE HATTON AS THE LITTLE
+  PRINCES IN THE TOWER                                          73
+
+  ISA BOWMAN AS DUKE OF YORK                                    77
+
+  MISS ISA BOWMAN AS "ALICE IN WONDERLAND" (IN PHOTOGRAVURE)    80
+
+  THE LITTLE PRINCES                                            83
+
+  "DOLLY VARDEN"                                                95
+
+  "A TURK"                                                     103
+
+  FACSIMILE OF A CHARADE                               108-109-110
+
+
+
+
+LEWIS CARROLL
+
+
+It seems to me a very difficult task to sit down at a desk and write
+"reminiscences" of a friend who has gone from us all.
+
+It is not easy to make an effort and to remember all the little personalia
+of some one one has loved very much, and by whom one has been loved. And
+yet it is in a measure one's duty to tell the world something of the inner
+life of a famous man; and Lewis Carroll was so wonderful a personality,
+and so good a man, that if my pen dragged ever so slowly, I feel that I
+can at least tell something of his life which is worthy the telling.
+
+Writing with the sense of his loss still heavy upon me, I must of
+necessity colour my account with sadness. I am not in the ordinary sense
+a biographer. I cannot set down a critical estimate, a cold, dispassionate
+summing-up of a man I loved; but I can write of a few things that happened
+when I was a little girl, and when he used to say to me that I was "_his_
+little girl."
+
+The gracious presence of Lewis Carroll is with us no longer. Never again
+will his hand hold mine, and I shall never hear his voice more in this
+world. Forever while I live that kindly influence will be gone from my
+life, and the "Friend of little Children" has left us.
+
+And yet in the full sorrow of it all I find some note of comfort. He was
+so good and sweet, so tender and kind, so certain that there was another
+and more beautiful life waiting for us, that I know, even as if I heard
+him telling it to me, that some time I shall meet him once more.
+
+In all the noise and excitement of London, amid all the distractions of a
+stage life, I know this, and his presence is often very near to me, and
+the kindly voice is often at my ear as it was in the old days.
+
+To have even known such a man as he was is an inestimable boon. To have
+been with him for so long as a child, to have known so intimately the man
+who above all others has understood childhood, is indeed a memory on which
+to look back with thanksgiving and with tears.
+
+Now that I am no longer "his little girl," now that he is dead and my life
+is so different from the quiet life he led, I can yet feel the old charm,
+I can still be glad that he has kissed me and that we were friends. Little
+girl and grave professor! it is a strange combination. Grave professor and
+little girl! how curious it sounds! yet strange and curious as it may
+seem, it was so, and the little girl, now a little girl no longer, offers
+this last loving tribute to the friend and teacher she loved so well.
+Forever that voice is still; be it mine to revive some ancient memories of
+it.
+
+First, however, as I have essayed to be some sort of a biographer, I feel
+that before I let my pen run easily over the tale of my intimate knowledge
+of Lewis Carroll I must put down very shortly some facts about his life.
+
+The Rev. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson died when he was sixty-six years old,
+and when his famous book, "Alice in Wonderland," had been published for
+thirty-three years. He was born at Daresbury, in Cheshire, and his father
+was the Rev. Charles Dodgson. The first years of his life were spent at
+Daresbury, but afterwards the family went to live at a place called Croft,
+in Yorkshire. He went first to a private school in Yorkshire and then to
+Rugby, where he spent years that he always remembered as very happy ones.
+In 1850 he went to Christ Church, Oxford, and from that time till the year
+of his death he was inseparably connected with "The House," as Christ
+Church college is generally called, from its Latin name "AEdes Christi,"
+which means, literally translated, the House of Christ.
+
+There he won great distinction as a scholar of mathematics, and wrote many
+abstruse and learned books, very different from "Alice in Wonderland."
+There is a tale that when the Queen had read "Alice in Wonderland" she was
+so pleased that she asked for more books by the same author. Lewis Carroll
+was written to, and back, with the name of Charles Dodgson on the
+title-page, came a number of the very dryest books about Algebra and
+Euclid that you can imagine.
+
+Still, even in mathematics his whimsical fancy was sometimes suffered to
+peep out, and little girls who learnt the rudiments of calculation at his
+knee found the path they had imagined so thorny set about with roses by
+reason of the delightful fun with which he would turn a task into a joy.
+But when the fun was over the little girl would find that she had learnt
+the lesson (all unknowingly) just the same. Happy little girls who had
+such a master. The old rhyme--
+
+  "Multiplication is vexation,
+    Division is as bad,
+  The rule of three doth puzzle me,
+    And Practice drives me mad,"
+
+would never need to have been written had all arithmetic lessons been like
+the arithmetic lessons given by Charles Dodgson to his little friends.
+
+As a lecturer to his grown-up pupils he was also surprisingly lucid, and
+under his deft treatment the knottiest of problems were quickly smoothed
+out and made easy for his hearers to comprehend. "I always hated
+mathematics at school," an ex-pupil of his told me a little while ago,
+"but when I went up to Oxford I learnt from Mr. Dodgson to look upon my
+mathematics as the most delightful of all my studies. His lectures were
+never dry."
+
+For twenty-six years he lectured at Oxford, finally giving up his post in
+1881. From that time to the time of his death he remained in his college,
+taking no actual part in the tuition, but still enjoying the Fellowship
+that he had won in 1861.
+
+This is an official account, a brief sketch of an intensely interesting
+life. It tells little save that Lewis Carroll was a clever mathematician
+and a sympathetic teacher; it shall be my work to present him as he was
+from a more human point of view.
+
+Lewis Carroll was a man of medium height. When I knew him his hair was a
+silver-grey, rather longer than it was the fashion to wear, and his eyes
+were a deep blue. He was clean shaven, and, as he walked, always seemed a
+little unsteady in his gait. At Oxford he was a well-known figure. He was
+a little eccentric in his clothes. In the coldest weather he would never
+wear an overcoat, and he had a curious habit of always wearing, in all
+seasons of the year, a pair of grey and black cotton gloves.
+
+But for the whiteness of his hair it was difficult to tell his age from
+his face, for there were no wrinkles on it. He had a curiously womanish
+face, and, in direct contradiction to his real character, there seemed to
+be little strength in it. One reads a great deal about the lines that a
+man's life paints in his face, and there are many people who believe that
+character is indicated by the curves of flesh and bone. I do not, and
+never shall, believe it is true, and Lewis Carroll is only one of many
+instances to support my theory. He was as firm and self-contained as a man
+may be, but there was little to show it in his face.
+
+Yet you could easily discern it in the way in which he met and talked with
+his friends. When he shook hands with you--he had firm white hands, rather
+large--his grip was strong and steadfast. Every one knows the kind of man
+of whom it is said "his hands were all soft and flabby when he said,
+'How-do-you-do.'" Well, Lewis Carroll was not a bit like that. Every one
+says when he shook your hand the pressure of his was full of strength,
+and you felt here indeed was a man to admire and to love. The expression
+in his eyes was also very kind and charming.
+
+
+[Illustration: LEWIS CARROLL'S ROOM IN OXFORD IN WHICH "ALICE IN
+WONDERLAND" WAS WRITTEN]
+
+
+He used to look at me, when we met, in the very tenderest, gentlest way.
+Of course on an ordinary occasion I knew that his interested glance did
+not mean anything of any extra importance. Nothing could have happened
+since I had seen him last, yet, at the same time, his look was always so
+deeply sympathetic and benevolent that one could hardly help feeling it
+meant a great deal more than the expression of the ordinary man.
+
+He was afflicted with what I believe is known as "Housemaid's knee," and
+this made his movements singularly jerky and abrupt. Then again he found
+it impossible to avoid stammering in his speech. He would, when engaged in
+an animated conversation with a friend, talk quickly and well for a few
+minutes, and then suddenly and without any very apparent cause would
+begin to stutter so much, that it was often difficult to understand him.
+He was very conscious of this impediment, and he tried hard to cure
+himself. For several years he read a scene from some play of Shakespeare's
+every day aloud, but despite this he was never quite able to cure himself
+of the habit. Many people would have found this a great hindrance to the
+affairs of ordinary life, and would have felt it deeply. Lewis Carroll was
+different. His mind and life were so simple and open that there was no
+room in them for self-consciousness, and I have often heard him jest at
+his own misfortune, with a comic wonder at it.
+
+The personal characteristic that you would notice most on meeting Lewis
+Carroll was his extreme shyness. With children, of course, he was not
+nearly so reserved, but in the society of people of maturer age he was
+almost old-maidishly prim in his manner. When he knew a child well this
+reserve would vanish completely, but it needed only a slightly
+disconcerting incident to bring the cloak of shyness about him once more,
+and close the lips that just before had been talking so delightfully.
+
+I shall never forget one afternoon when we had been walking in Christ
+Church meadows. On one side of the great open space the little river
+Cherwell runs through groves of trees towards the Isis, where the college
+boat-races are rowed. We were going quietly along by the side of the
+"Cher," when he began to explain to me that the tiny stream was a
+tributary, "a baby river" he put it, of the big Thames. He talked for some
+minutes, explaining how rivers came down from hills and flowed eventually
+to the sea, when he suddenly met a brother Don at a turning in the avenue.
+
+He was holding my hand and giving me my lesson in geography with great
+earnestness when the other man came round the corner.
+
+
+[Illustration: C. L. DODGSON]
+
+
+He greeted him in answer to his salutation, but the incident disturbed his
+train of thought, and for the rest of the walk he became very difficult to
+understand, and talked in a nervous and preoccupied manner. One strange
+way in which his nervousness affected him was peculiarly characteristic.
+When, owing to the stupendous success of "Alice in Wonderland" and "Alice
+Through the Looking-Glass," he became a celebrity many people were anxious
+to see him, and in some way or other to find out what manner of man he
+was. This seemed to him horrible, and he invented a mild deception for use
+when some autograph-hunter or curious person sent him a request for his
+signature on a photograph, or asked him some silly question as to the
+writing of one of his books, how long it took to write, and how many
+copies had been sold. Through some third person he always represented that
+Lewis Carroll the author and Mr. Dodgson the professor were two distinct
+persons, and that the author could not be heard of at Oxford at all. On
+one occasion an American actually wrote to say that he had heard that
+Lewis Carroll had laid out a garden to represent some of the scenes in
+"Alice in Wonderland," and that he (the American) was coming right away to
+take photographs of it. Poor Lewis Carroll, he was in terror of Americans
+for a week!
+
+Of being photographed he had a horror, and despite the fact that he was
+continually and importunately requested to sit before the camera, only
+very few photographs of him are in existence. Yet he had been himself a
+great amateur photographer, and had taken many pictures that were
+remarkable in their exact portraiture of the subject.
+
+It was this exactness that he used to pride himself on in his camera work.
+He always said that modern professional photographers spoilt all their
+pictures by touching them up absurdly to flatter the sitter. When it was
+necessary for me to have some pictures taken he sent me to Mr. H. H.
+Cameron, whom he declared to be the only artist who dared to produce a
+photograph that was exactly like its subject. This is one of the
+photographs of me that Mr. Cameron took, and Lewis Carroll always declared
+that it was a perfect specimen of portrait work.
+
+Many of the photographs of children in this book are Lewis Carroll's work.
+Miss Beatrice Hatch, to whose kindness I am indebted for these photographs
+and for much interesting information, writes in the _Strand Magazine_
+(April 1898):
+
+    "My earliest recollections of Mr. Dodgson are connected with
+    photography. He was very fond of this art at one time, though he had
+    entirely given it up for many years latterly. He kept various costumes
+    and 'properties' with which to dress us up, and, of course, that added
+    to the fun. What child would not thoroughly enjoy personating a
+    Japanese or a beggar child, or a gipsy or an Indian? Sometimes there
+    were excursions to the roof of the college, which was easily
+    accessible from the windows of the studio. Or you might stand by your
+    friend's side in the tiny dark room and watch him while he poured the
+    contents of several little strong-smelling bottles on to the glass
+    picture of yourself that looked so funny with its black face."
+
+
+[Illustration: A CHINAMAN]
+
+
+Yet, despite his love for the photographer's art, he hated the idea of
+having his own picture taken for the benefit of a curious world. The
+shyness that made him nervous in the presence of strangers made the idea
+that any one who cared to stare into a shop window could examine and
+criticise his portrait extremely repulsive to him.
+
+I remember that this shyness of his was the only occasion of anything
+approaching a quarrel between us.
+
+I had an idle trick of drawing caricatures when I was a child, and one day
+when he was writing some letters I began to make a picture of him on the
+back of an envelope. I quite forget what the drawing was like--probably it
+was an abominable libel--but suddenly he turned round and saw what I was
+doing. He got up from his seat and turned very red, frightening me very
+much. Then he took my poor little drawing, and tearing it into small
+pieces threw it into the fire without a word. Afterwards he came suddenly
+to me, and saying nothing, caught me up in his arms and kissed me
+passionately. I was only some ten or eleven years of age at the time, but
+now the incident comes back to me very clearly, and I can see it as if it
+happened but yesterday--the sudden snatching of my picture, the hurried
+striding across the room, and then the tender light in his face as he
+caught me up to him and kissed me.
+
+I used to see a good deal of him at Oxford, and I was constantly in Christ
+Church. He would invite me to stay with him and find me rooms just outside
+the college gates, where I was put into charge of an elderly dame, whose
+name, if I do not forget, was Mrs. Buxall. I would spend long happy days
+with my uncle, and at nine o'clock I was taken over to the little house in
+St. Aldates and delivered into the hands of the landlady, who put me to
+bed.
+
+In the morning I was awakened by the deep reverberations of "Great Tom"
+calling Oxford to wake and begin the new day. Those times were very
+pleasant, and the remembrance of them lingers with me still. Lewis
+Carroll at the time of which I am speaking had two tiny turret rooms, one
+on each side of his staircase in Christ Church. He always used to tell me
+that when I grew up and became married he would give me the two little
+rooms, so that if I ever disagreed with my husband we could each of us
+retire to a turret till we had made up our quarrel!
+
+And those rooms of his! I do not think there was ever such a fairy-land
+for children. I am sure they must have contained one of the finest
+collections of musical-boxes to be found anywhere in the world. There were
+big black ebony boxes with glass tops through which you could see all the
+works. There was a big box with a handle, which it was quite hard exercise
+for a little girl to turn, and there must have been twenty or thirty
+little ones which could only play one tune. Sometimes one of the
+musical-boxes would not play properly, and then I always got tremendously
+excited. Uncle used to go to a drawer in the table and produce a box of
+little screw-drivers and punches, and while I sat on his knee he would
+unscrew the lid and take out the wheels to see what was the matter. He
+must have been a clever mechanist, for the result was always the
+same-after a longer or shorter period the music began again. Sometimes
+when the musical-boxes had played all their tunes he used to put them in
+the box backwards, and was as pleased as I at the comic effect of the
+music "standing on its head," as he phrased it.
+
+There was another and very wonderful toy which he sometimes produced for
+me, and this was known as "The Bat." The ceilings of the rooms in which he
+lived at the time were very high indeed, and admirably suited for the
+purposes of "The Bat." It was an ingeniously constructed toy of gauze and
+wire, which actually flew about the room like a bat. It was worked by a
+piece of twisted elastic, and it could fly for about half a minute.
+
+I was always a little afraid of this toy because it was too lifelike, but
+there was a fearful joy in it. When the music-boxes began to pall he would
+get up from his chair and look at me with a knowing smile. I always knew
+what was coming even before he began to speak, and I used to dance up and
+down in tremendous anticipation.
+
+"Isa, my darling," he would say, "once upon a time there was some one
+called Bob the Bat! and he lived in the top left-hand drawer of the
+writing-table. What could he do when uncle wound him up?"
+
+And then I would squeak out breathlessly, "He could really FLY!"
+
+Bob the Bat had many adventures. There was no way of controlling the
+direction of its flight, and one morning, a hot summer's morning when the
+window was wide open, Bob flew out into the garden and alighted in a bowl
+of salad which a scout was taking to some one's rooms. The poor fellow
+was so startled by the sudden flapping apparition that he dropped the
+bowl, and it was broken into a thousand pieces.
+
+There! I have written "a thousand pieces," and a thoughtless exaggeration
+of that sort was a thing that Lewis Carroll hated. "A thousand pieces?" he
+would have said; "you know, Isa, that if the bowl had been broken into a
+thousand pieces they would each have been so tiny that you could have
+hardly seen them." And if the broken pieces had been get-at-able, he would
+have made me count them as a means of impressing on my mind the folly of
+needless exaggeration.
+
+I remember how annoyed he was once when, after a morning's sea bathing at
+Eastbourne, I exclaimed, "Oh, this salt water, it always makes my hair as
+stiff as a poker."
+
+He impressed it on me quite irritably that no little girl's hair could
+ever possibly get as stiff as a poker. "If you had said, 'as stiff as
+wires,' it would have been more like it, but even that would have been an
+exaggeration." And then, seeing that I was a little frightened, he drew
+for me a picture of "The little girl called Isa whose hair turned into
+pokers because she was always exaggerating things."
+
+That, and all the other pictures that he drew for me are, I'm sorry to
+say, the sole property of the little fishes in the Irish Channel, where a
+clumsy porter dropped them as we hurried into the boat at Holyhead.
+
+"I nearly died of laughing," was another expression that he particularly
+disliked; in fact any form of exaggeration generally called from him a
+reproof, though he was sometimes content to make fun. For instance, my
+sisters and I had sent him "millions of kisses" in a letter. Below you
+will find the letter that he wrote in return, written in violet ink that
+he always used (dreadfully ugly, I used to think it).
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+    "CH. Ch. Oxford,
+    "_Ap. 14, 1890_.
+
+    "MY OWN DARLING,
+
+    It's all very well for you and Nellie and Emsie to write in millions
+    of hugs and kisses, but please consider the _time_ it would occupy
+    your poor old very busy Uncle! Try hugging and kissing Emsie for a
+    minute by the watch, and I don't think you'll manage it more than 20
+    times a minute. 'Millions' must mean 2 millions at least.
+
+        20)2,000,000 hugs and kisses
+          60)100,000 minutes
+            12)1,666 hours
+              6)138 days (at twelve hours a day)
+                23 weeks.
+
+    "I couldn't go on hugging and kissing more than 12 hours a day: and I
+    wouldn't like to spend _Sundays_ that way. So you see it would take
+    _23 weeks_ of hard work. Really, my dear child, I _cannot spare the
+    time_.
+
+    "Why haven't I written since my last letter? Why, how _could_ I, you
+    silly silly child? How could I have written _since the last time_ I
+    _did_ write? Now, you just try it with kissing. Go and kiss Nellie,
+    from me, several times, and take care to manage it so as to have
+    kissed her _since the last time_ you _did_ kiss her. Now go back to
+    your place, and I'll question you.
+
+    "'Have you kissed her several times?'
+
+    "'Yes, darling Uncle.'
+
+    "'What o'clock was it when you gave her the _last_ kiss?'
+
+    "'5 minutes past 10, Uncle.'
+
+    "'Very well, now, have you kissed her _since_?'
+
+    "'Well--I--ahem! ahem! ahem! (excuse me, Uncle, I've got a bad cough).
+    I--think--that--I--that is, you, know, I----'
+
+    "'Yes, I see! "Isa" begins with "I," and it seems to me as if she was
+    going to _end_ with "I," _this_ time!'
+
+    "Anyhow, my not writing hasn't been because I was _ill_, but because I
+    was a horrid lazy old thing, who kept putting it off from day to day,
+    till at last I said to myself, 'WHO ROAR! There's no time to write
+    now, because they _sail_ on the 1st of April.'[1] In fact, I shouldn't
+    have been a bit surprised if this letter had been from _Fulham_,
+    instead of Louisville. Well, I suppose you _will_ be there by about
+    the middle of May. But mind you don't write to me from there! Please,
+    _please_, no more horrid letters from you! I _do_ hate them so! And as
+    for _kissing_ them when I get them, why, I'd just as soon
+    kiss--kiss--kiss _you_, you tiresome thing! So there now!
+
+    "Thank you very much for those 2 photographs--I liked
+    them--hum--_pretty_ well. I can't honestly say I thought them the very
+    best I had ever seen.
+
+    "Please give my kindest regards to your mother, and 1/2 of a kiss to
+    Nellie, and 1/200 a kiss to Emsie, and 1/2,000,000 a kiss to yourself.
+    So, with fondest love, I am, my darling, your loving Uncle,
+
+    "C. L. DODGSON."
+
+And now, in the postscript, comes one of the rare instances in which Lewis
+Carroll showed his deep religious feeling. It runs--
+
+    "_P.S._--I've thought about that little prayer you asked me to write
+    for Nellie and Emsie. But I would like, first, to have the words of
+    the one I wrote for _you_, and the words of what they _now_ say, if
+    they say any. And then I will pray to our Heavenly Father to help me
+    to write a prayer that will be really fit for them to use."
+
+Again, I had ended one of my letters with "all join me in lufs and
+kisses." It was a letter written when I was away from home and alone, and
+I had put the usual ending thoughtlessly and in haste, for there was no
+one that I knew in all that town who could have joined me in my messages
+to him. He answered me as follows:--
+
+    "7 LUSHINGTON ROAD, EASTBOURNE,
+    "_Aug. 30, 90_.
+
+    "Oh, you naughty, naughty, bad wicked little girl! You forgot to put a
+    stamp on your letter, and your poor old uncle had to pay TWOPENCE! His
+    _last_ Twopence! Think of that. I shall punish you severely for this
+    when once I get you here. So _tremble_! Do you hear? Be good enough to
+    tremble!
+
+    "I've only time for one question to-day. Who in the world are the
+    'all' that join you in 'Lufs and kisses.' Weren't you fancying you
+    were at home, and sending messages (as people constantly do) from
+    Nellie and Emsie without their having given any? It isn't a good plan
+    that sending messages people haven't given. I don't mean it's in the
+    least _untruthful_, because everybody knows how commonly they are sent
+    without having been given; but it lessens the pleasure of receiving
+    the messages. My sisters write to me 'with best love from all.' I know
+    it isn't true; so I don't value it much. The other day, the husband of
+    one of my 'child-friends' (who always writes 'your loving') wrote to
+    me and ended with 'Ethel joins me in kindest regards.' In my answer I
+    said (of course in fun)--'I am not going to send Ethel kindest
+    regards, so I won't send her any message _at all_.' Then she wrote to
+    say she didn't even know he was writing! 'Of course I would have sent
+    best love,' and she added that she had given her husband a piece of
+    her mind! Poor husband!
+
+    "Your always loving uncle,
+    "C. L. D."
+
+These letters are written in Lewis Carroll's ordinary handwriting, not a
+particularly legible one. When, however, he was writing for the press no
+characters could have been more clearly and distinctly formed than his.
+Throughout his life he always made it his care to give as little trouble
+as possible to other people. "Why should the printers have to work
+overtime because my letters are ill-formed and my words run into each
+other?" he once said, when a friend remonstrated with him because he took
+such pains with the writing of his "copy." As a specimen of his careful
+penmanship the diary that he wrote for me, which is reproduced in this
+book in facsimile, is an admirable example.
+
+They were happy days, those days in Oxford, spent with the most
+fascinating companion that a child could have. In our walks about the old
+town, in our visits to cathedral or chapel or hall, in our visits to his
+friends he was an ideal companion, but I think I was almost happiest when
+we came back to his rooms and had tea alone; when the fire-glow (it was
+always winter when I stayed in Oxford) threw fantastic shadows about the
+quaint room, and the thoughts of the prosiest of people must have
+wandered a little into fancy-land. The shifting firelight seemed to
+almost aetherealise that kindly face, and as the wonderful stories fell
+from his lips, and his eyes lighted on me with the sweetest smile that
+ever a man wore, I was conscious of a love and reverence for Charles
+Dodgson that became nearly an adoration.
+
+It was almost pain when the lights were turned up and we came back to
+everyday life and tea.
+
+He was very particular about his tea, which he always made himself, and in
+order that it should draw properly he would walk about the room swinging
+the tea-pot from side to side for exactly ten minutes. The idea of the
+grave professor promenading his book-lined study and carefully waving a
+tea-pot to and fro may seem ridiculous, but all the minutiae of life
+received an extreme attention at his hands, and after the first surprise
+one came quickly to realise the convenience that his carefulness ensured.
+
+
+[Illustration: BEGGAR CHILDREN]
+
+
+Before starting on a railway journey, for instance (and how delightful
+were railway journeys in the company of Lewis Carroll), he used to map
+out exactly every minute of the time that we were to take on the way. The
+details of the journey completed, he would exactly calculate the amount of
+money that must be spent, and, in different partitions of the two purses
+that he carried, arrange the various sums that would be necessary for
+cabs, porters, newspapers, refreshments, and the other expenses of a
+journey. It was wonderful how much trouble he saved himself _en route_ by
+thus making ready beforehand. Lewis Carroll was never driven half frantic
+on a station platform because he had to change a sovereign to buy a penny
+paper while the train was on the verge of starting. With him journeys were
+always comfortable.
+
+Of the joys that waited on a little girl who stayed with Lewis Carroll at
+his Oxford home I can give no better idea than that furnished by the diary
+that follows, which he wrote for me, bit by bit, during the evenings of
+one of my stays at Oxford.
+
+
+[Illustrations: Facsimile:
+
+=Isa's Visit to Oxford.=
+
+1888.
+
+
+=Chap. I.=
+
+On Wednesday, the Eleventh of July, Isa happened to meet a friend at
+Paddington Station at half-past-ten. She can't remember his name, but she
+says he was an old old old gentleman, and he had invited her, she thinks,
+to go with him somewhere or other, she can't remember where.
+
+
+=Chap. II.=
+
+The first thing they did, after calling at a shop, was to go to the
+Panorama of the "Falls of Niagara". Isa thought it very wonderful. You
+seemed to be on the top of a tower, with miles and miles of country all
+round you. The things in front were real, and somehow they joined into the
+picture behind, so that you couldn't tell where the real things ended and
+the picture began. Near the foot of the Falls, there was a steam-packet
+crossing the river, which showed what a tremendous height the Falls must
+be, it looked so tiny. In the road in front were two men and a dog,
+standing looking the other way. They may have been wooden figures, or part
+of the picture, there was no knowing which. The man, who stood next to
+Isa, said to another man "That dog looked round just now. Now see, I'll
+whistle to him, and make him look round again!" And he began whistling:
+and Isa almost expected, it looked so exactly like a real dog, that it
+would turn its head to see who was calling it!
+
+After that Isa and her friend (the Aged Aged Man) went to the house of a
+Mr Dymes. Mrs Dymes gave them some dinner, and two of her children, called
+Helen and Maud, went with them to Terry's Theatre, to see the play of
+"Little Lord Fauntleroy". Little Vera Beringer was the little Lord
+Fauntleroy. Isa would have liked to play the part, but the Manager at the
+Theatre did not allow her, as she did not know the words, which would have
+made it go off badly. Isa liked the whole play very much: the passionate
+old Earl, and the gentle Mother of the little boy, and the droll "Mr.
+Hobbs", and all of them.
+
+Then they all went off by the Metropolitan Railway, and the two Miss
+Dymeses got out at their station, and Isa and the A.A.M. went on to
+Oxford. A kind old lady, called Mrs Symonds, had invited Isa to come and
+sleep at her house: and she was soon fast asleep, and dreaming that she
+and little Lord Fauntleroy were going in a steamer down the Falls of
+Niagara, and whistling to a dog, who was in such a hurry to go up the
+Falls that he wouldn't attend to them.
+
+
+=Chap. III.=
+
+The next morning Isa set off, almost before she was awake, with the
+A.A.M., to pay a visit to a little College, called "Christ Church". You go
+in under a magnificent tower, called "Tom Tower", nearly four feet high
+(so that Isa had hardly to stoop at all, to go under it) into the Great
+Quadrangle (which very vulgar people call "Tom Quad".) You should always
+be polite, even when speaking to a Quadrangle: it might seem not to take
+any notice, but it doesn't like being called names. On their way to Christ
+Church they saw a tall monument, like the spire of a church, called the
+"Martyrs' Memorial", put up in memory of three Bishops, Cranmer, Ridley
+and Latimer, who were burned in the reign of Queen Mary, because they
+would not be Roman Catholics. Christ Church was built in 1546.
+
+They had breakfast at Ch. Ch., in the rooms of the A.A.M., and then Isa
+learned how to print with the "Typewriter", and printed several beautiful
+volumes of poetry, all of her own invention. By this time it was 1
+o'clock, so Isa paid a visit to the Kitchen, to make sure that the
+chicken, for her dinner, was being properly roasted The Kitchen is about
+the oldest part of the College, so was built about 1546. It has a
+fire-grate large enough to roast forty legs of mutton at once.
+
+Then they saw the Dining Hall, in which the A.A.M. has dined several
+times, (about 8,000 times, perhaps). After dinner, they went, through the
+quadrangle of the Bodleian Library, into Broad Street, and, as a band was
+just going by, of course they followed it. (Isa likes Bands better than
+anything in the world, except Lands, and walking on Sands, and wringing
+her Hands). The Band led them into the gardens of Wadham College (built in
+1613), where there was a school-treat going on. The treat was, first
+marching twice round the garden--then having a photograph done of them,
+all in a row--then a =promise= of "Punch and Judy", which wouldn't be
+ready for 20 minutes, so Isa, and Co., wouldn't wait, but went back to Ch.
+Ch., and saw the "Broad Walk." In the evening they played at "Reversi",
+till Isa had lost the small remainder of her temper. Then she went to bed,
+and dreamed she was Judy, and was beating Punch with a stick of
+Barley-sugar.
+
+
+=Chap. IV.=
+
+On Friday morning (after taking her medicine very amiably), went with the
+A.A.M. (who =would= go with her, though she told him over and over she
+would rather be alone) to the gardens of Worcester College (built in 1714)
+where they didn't see the swans (who ought to have been on the lake), nor
+the hippopotamus, who ought not to have been walking about among the
+flowers, gathering honey like a busy bee.
+
+After breakfast, Isa helped the A.A.M. to pack his luggage, because he
+thought he would go away, he didn't know where, some day, he didn't know
+when--so she put a lot of things, she didn't know what, into boxes, she
+didn't know which.
+
+After dinner they went to St. John's College (built in 1555), and admired
+the large lawn, where more than 150 ladies, dressed in robes of gold and
+silver, were not walking about.
+
+Then they saw the Chapel of Keble College (built in 1870) and then the
+New Museum, where Isa quite lost her heart to a charming stuffed Gorilla,
+that smiled on her from a glass case. The Museum was finished in 1860. The
+most curious thing they saw there was a "Walking Leaf," a kind of insect
+that looks exactly like a withered leaf.
+
+Then they went to New College (built in 1386), & saw, close to the
+entrance, a "skew" arch (going slantwise through the wall) one of the
+first ever built in England. After seeing the gardens, they returned to
+Ch. Ch. (Parts of the old City walls run round the gardens of New College:
+and you may still see some of the old narrow slits, through which the
+defenders could shoot arrows at the attacking army, who could hardly
+succeed in shooting through them from the outside).
+
+They had tea with Mrs Paget, wife of Dr. Paget one of the Canons of Ch.
+Ch. Then, after a sorrowful evening, Isa went to bed, and dreamed she was
+buzzing about among the flowers, with the dear Gorilla: but there wasn't
+any honey in them--only slices of bread-and-butter, and
+multiplication-tables.
+
+
+=Chap. V.=
+
+On Saturday Isa had a Music Lesson, and learned to play on an American
+Orguinette. It is not a =very= difficult instrument to play, as you only
+have to turn a handle round and round: so she did it nicely. You put a
+long piece of paper in, and it goes through the machine, and the holes in
+the paper make different notes play. They put one in wrong end first, and
+had a tune backwards, and soon found themselves in the day before
+yesterday: so they dared not go on, for fear of making Isa so young she
+would not be able to talk. The A.A.M. does not like visitors who only
+howl, and get red in the face, from morning to night.
+
+In the afternoon they went round Ch. Ch. meadow, and saw the Barges
+belonging to the Colleges, and some pretty views of Magdalen Tower through
+the trees.
+
+Then they went through the Botanical Gardens, built in the year----no, by
+the bye, they never were built at all. And then to Magdalen College. At
+the top of the wall, in one corner, they saw a very large jolly face,
+carved in stone, with a broad grin, and a little man at the side, helping
+him to laugh by pulling up the corner of his mouth for him. Isa thought
+that, the next time she wants to laugh, she will get Nellie and Maggie to
+help her. With two people to pull up the corners of your mouth for you, it
+is as easy to laugh as can be!
+
+They went into Magdalen Meadow, which has a pretty walk all round it,
+arched over with trees: and there they met a lady "from Amurrica," as she
+told them, who wanted to know the way to "Addison's Walk," and
+particularly wanted to know if there would be "any danger" in going there.
+They told her the way, and that =most= of the lions and tigers and
+buffaloes, round the meadow, were quite gentle and hardly ever killed
+people: so she set off, pale and trembling, and they saw her no more:
+only they heard her screams in the distance: so they guessed what had
+happened to her
+
+Then they rode in a tram-car to another part of Oxford, and called on a
+lady called Mrs Jeane, and her little grand-daughter, called "Noel",
+because she was born on Christmas-Day. ("Noel" is the French name for
+"Christmas".) And there they had so much Tea that at last Isa nearly
+turned into a "Teaser".
+
+Then they went home, down a little narrow street, where there was a little
+dog standing fixed in the middle of the street, as if its feet were glued
+to the ground: they asked it how long it meant to stand there, and it said
+(as well as it could) "till the week after next".
+
+Then Isa went to bed, and dreamed she was going round Magdalen Meadow,
+with the "Amurrican" lady, and there was a buffalo sitting at the top of
+every tree, handing her cups of tea as she went underneath: but they all
+held the cups upside-down, so that the tea poured all over her head and
+ran down her face.
+
+
+=Chap. VI.=
+
+On Sunday morning they went to St. Mary's church, in High Street. In
+coming home, down the street next to the one where they had found a fixed
+dog, they found a fixed cat--a poor little kitten, that had put out its
+head through the bars of the cellar-window, and get back again. They rang
+the bell at the next door, but the maid said the cellar wasn't in that
+house, and, before they could get to the right door the cat had unfixed
+its head----either from its neck or from the bars, and had gone inside.
+Isa thought the animals in this city have a curious way of fixing
+themselves up and down the place, as if they were hat-pegs.
+
+Then they went back to Ch. Ch., and looked at a lot of dresses, which the
+A.A.M kept in a cupboard, to dress up children in, when they come to be
+photographed. Some of the dresses had been used in Pantomimes at Drury
+Lane: some were rags, to dress up beggar-children in: some had been very
+magnificent once, but were getting quite old and shabby. Talking of old
+dresses, there is one College in Oxford, so old that it is not known for
+certain when it was built The people, who live there, say it was built
+more than 1000 years ago: and, when they say this, the people who live in
+the other Colleges never contradict them, but listen most
+respectfully----only they wink a little with one eye, as if they didn't
+=quite= believe it.
+
+The same day, Isa saw a curious book of pictures of ghosts. If you look
+hard at one for a minute, and then look at the ceiling, you see another
+ghost there: only, when you have a black one in the book, it is a =white=
+one on the ceiling: when it is green in the book, it is =pink= on the
+ceiling.
+
+In the middle of the day, as usual, Isa had her dinner: but this time it
+was grander than usual. There was a dish of "Meringues" (this is
+pronounced "Marangs"), which Isa thought so good that she would have liked
+to live on them all the rest of her life.
+
+They took a little walk in the afternoon, and in the middle of Broad
+Street they saw a cross buried in the ground, very near the place where
+the Martyrs were burned. Then they went into the gardens of Trinity
+College (built in 1554) to see the "Lime Walk", a pretty little avenue of
+lime-trees. The great iron "gates" at the end of the garden are not real
+gates, but all done in one piece: and they couldn't open them, even if you
+knocked all day. Isa thought them a miserable sham.
+
+Then they went into the "Parks" (this word doesn't mean "parks of grass,
+with trees and deer," but "parks" of guns: that is, great rows of cannons,
+which stood there when King Charles the First was in Oxford, and Oliver
+Cromwell fighting against him.
+
+They saw "Mansfield College", a new College just begun to be built, with
+such tremendously narrow windows that Isa was afraid the young gentlemen
+who come there will not be able to see to learn their lessons, and will go
+away from Oxford just as wise as they came.
+
+Then they went to the evening service at New College, and heard some
+beautiful singing and organ-playing. Then back to Ch. Ch., in pouring
+rain. Isa tried to count the drops: but, when she had counted four
+millions, three hundred and seventy-eight thousand, two hundred and
+forty-seven, she got tired of counting, and left off.
+
+After dinner, Isa got somebody or other (she is not sure who it was) to
+finish this story for her. Then she went to bed, and dreamed she was fixed
+in the middle of Oxford, with her feet fast to the ground, and her head
+between the bars of a cellar-window, in a sort of final tableau. Then she
+dreamed the curtain came down, and the people all called out "encore!" But
+she cried out "Oh, not again! It would be =too= dreadful to have my visit
+all over again!" But, on second thoughts, she smiled in her sleep, and
+said "Well, do you know, after all, I think I wouldn't mind so very much
+if I =did= have it all over again!".
+
+Lewis Carroll.
+
+THE END]
+
+
+This diary, and what I have written before, show how I, as a little girl,
+knew Lewis Carroll at Oxford.
+
+For his little girl friends, of course, he reserved the most intimate side
+of his nature, but on occasion he would throw off his reserve and talk
+earnestly and well to some young man in whose life he took an interest.
+
+Mr. Arthur Girdlestone is able to bear witness to this, and he has given
+me an account of an evening that he once spent with Lewis Carroll, which I
+reproduce here from notes made during our conversation.
+
+Mr. Girdlestone, then an undergraduate at New College, had on one occasion
+to call on Lewis Carroll at his rooms in Tom Quad. At the time of which I
+am speaking Lewis Carroll had retired very much from the society which he
+had affected a few years before. Indeed for the last years of his life he
+was almost a recluse, and beyond dining in Hall saw hardly any one. Miss
+Beatrice Hatch, one of his "girl friends," writes apropos of his
+hermit-like seclusion:--
+
+"If you were very anxious to get him to come to your house on any
+particular day, the only chance was _not_ to _invite_ him, but only to
+inform him that you would be at home. Otherwise he would say, 'As you have
+_invited_ me I cannot come, for I have made a rule to decline all
+_invitations_; but I will come the next day.' In former years he would
+sometimes consent to go to a 'party' if he was quite sure he was not to be
+'shown off' or introduced to any one as the author of 'Alice.' I must
+again quote from a note of his in answer to an invitation to tea: 'What an
+awful proposition! To drink tea from four to six would tax the
+constitution even of a hardened tea drinker! For me, who hardly ever touch
+it, it would probably be fatal.'"
+
+All through the University, except in an extremely limited circle, Lewis
+Carroll was regarded as a person who lived very much by himself. "When,"
+Mr. Girdlestone said to me, "I went to see him on quite a slight
+acquaintance, I confess it was with some slight feeling of trepidation.
+However I had to on some business, and accordingly I knocked at his door
+about 8.30 one winter's evening, and was invited to come in.
+
+"He was sitting working at a writing-table, and all round him were piles
+of MSS. arranged with mathematical neatness, and many of them tied up with
+tape. The lamp threw his face into sharp relief as he greeted me. My
+business was soon over, and I was about to go away, when he asked me if I
+would have a glass of wine and sit with him for a little.
+
+"The night outside was very cold, and the fire was bright and inviting,
+and I sat down. He began to talk to me of ordinary subjects, of the things
+a man might do at Oxford, of the place itself, and the affection in which
+he held it. He talked quietly, and in a rather tired voice. During our
+conversation my eye fell upon a photograph of a little girl--evidently
+from the freshness of its appearance but newly taken--which was resting
+upon the ledge of a reading-stand at my elbow. It was the picture of a
+tiny child, very pretty, and I picked it up to look at it.
+
+"'That is the baby of a girl friend of mine,' he said, and then, with an
+absolute change of voice, 'there is something very strange about very
+young children, something I cannot understand.' I asked him in what way,
+and he explained at some length. He was far less at his ease than when
+talking trivialities, and he occasionally stammered and sometimes
+hesitated for a word. I cannot remember all he said, but some of his
+remarks still remain with me. He said that in the company of very little
+children his brain enjoyed a rest which was startlingly recuperative. If
+he had been working too hard or had tired his brain in any way, to play
+with children was like an actual material tonic to his whole system. I
+understood him to say that the effect was almost physical!
+
+"He said that he found it much easier to understand children, to get his
+mind into correspondence with their minds when he was fatigued with other
+work. Personally, I did not understand little children, and they seemed
+quite outside my experience, and rather incautiously I asked him if
+children never bored him. He had been standing up for most of the time,
+and when I asked him that, he sat down suddenly. 'They are three-fourths
+of my life,' he said. 'I cannot understand how any one could be bored by
+little children. I think when you are older you will come to see this--I
+hope you'll come to see it.'
+
+"After that he changed the subject once more, and became again the
+mathematician--a little formal, and rather weary."
+
+Mr. Girdlestone probably had a unique experience, for it was but rarely
+that Mr. Dodgson so far unburdened himself to a comparative stranger, and
+what was even worse, to a "grown-up stranger."
+
+Now I have given you two different phases of Lewis Carroll at
+Oxford--Lewis Carroll as the little girl's companion, and Lewis Carroll
+sitting by the fireside telling something of his inner self to a young
+man. I am going on to talk about my life with him at Eastbourne, where I
+used, year by year, to stay with him at his house in Lushington Road.
+
+He was very fond of Eastbourne, and it was from that place that I received
+the most charming letters that he wrote me. Here is one, and I could
+hardly say how many times I have taken this delightful letter from its
+drawer to read through and through again.
+
+    "7 LUSHINGTON ROAD, EASTBOURNE,
+    "_September 17, 1893_.
+
+    "Oh, you naughty, naughty little culprit! If only I could fly to
+    Fulham with a handy little stick (ten feet long and four inches thick
+    is my favourite size) how I would rap your wicked little knuckles.
+    However, there isn't much harm done, so I will sentence you to a
+    very mild punishment--only one year's imprisonment. If you'll just
+    tell the Fulham policeman about it, he'll manage all the rest for you,
+    and he'll fit you with a nice pair of handcuffs, and lock you up in a
+    nice cosy dark cell, and feed you on nice dry bread, and delicious
+    cold water.
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. GEORGE THE DRAGON]
+
+
+    "But how badly you _do_ spell your words! I _was_ so puzzled about the
+    'sacks full of love and baskets full of kisses!' But at last I made
+    out why, of course, you meant 'a sack full of _gloves_, and a basket
+    full of _kittens_!' Then I understood what you were sending me. And
+    just then Mrs. Dyer came to tell me a large sack and a basket had
+    come. There was such a miawing in the house, as if all the cats in
+    Eastbourne had come to see me! 'Oh, just open them please, Mrs. Dyer,
+    and count the things in them!'
+
+    "So in a few minutes Mrs. Dyer came and said, '500 pairs of gloves in
+    the sack and 250 kittens in the basket.'
+
+    "'Dear me! That makes 1000 gloves! four times as many gloves as
+    kittens! It's very kind of Maggie, but why did she send so many
+    gloves? for I haven't got 1000 _hands_, you know, Mrs. Dyer.'
+
+    "And Mrs. Dyer said, 'No, indeed, you're 998 hands short of that!'
+
+    "However the next day I made out what to do, and I took the basket
+    with me and walked off to the parish school--the _girl's_ school, you
+    know--and I said to the mistress, 'How many little girls are there at
+    school to-day?'
+
+    "'Exactly 250, sir.'
+
+    "'And have they all been _very_ good all day?'
+
+    "'As good as gold, sir.'
+
+    "So I waited outside the door with my basket, and as each little girl
+    came out, I just popped a soft little kitten into her hands! Oh, what
+    joy there was! The little girls went all dancing home, nursing their
+    kittens, and the whole air was full of purring! Then, the next
+    morning, I went to the school, before it opened, to ask the little
+    girls how the kittens had behaved in the night. And they all arrived
+    sobbing and crying, and their faces and hands were all covered with
+    scratches, and they had the kittens wrapped up in their pinafores to
+    keep them from scratching any more. And they sobbed out, 'The kittens
+    have been scratching us all night, all the night.'
+
+    "So then I said to myself, 'What a nice little girl Maggie is. _Now_ I
+    see why she sent all those gloves, and why there are four times as
+    many gloves as kittens!' and I said loud to the little girls, 'Never
+    mind, my dear children, do your lessons _very_ nicely, and don't cry
+    any more, and when school is over, you'll find me at the door, and you
+    shall see what you shall see!'
+
+    "So, in the evening, when the little girls came running out, with the
+    kittens still wrapped up in their pinafores, there was I, at the door,
+    with a big sack! And, as each little girl came out, I just popped into
+    her hand two pairs of gloves! And each little girl unrolled her
+    pinafore and took out an angry little kitten, spitting and snarling,
+    with its claws sticking out like a hedgehog. But it hadn't time to
+    scratch, for, in one moment, it found all its four claws popped into
+    nice soft warm gloves! And then the kittens got quite sweet-tempered
+    and gentle, and began purring again!
+
+    "So the little girls went dancing home again, and the next morning
+    they came dancing back to school. The scratches were all healed, and
+    they told me 'The kittens _have_ been good!' And, when any kitten
+    wants to catch a mouse, it just takes off _one_ of its gloves; and if
+    it wants to catch _two_ mice, it takes off two gloves; and if it wants
+    to catch _three_ mice, it takes off _three_ gloves; and if it wants to
+    catch _four_ mice, it takes off all its gloves. But the moment they've
+    caught the mice, they pop their gloves on again, because they know we
+    can't love them without their gloves. For, you see 'gloves' have got
+    'love' _inside_ them--there's none _outside_!
+
+    "So all the little girls said, 'Please thank Maggie, and we send her
+    250 _loves_, and 1000 _kisses_ in return for her 250 kittens and her
+    1000 _loves_!!' And I told them in the wrong order! and they said they
+    hadn't.
+
+    "Your loving old Uncle,
+    "C. L. D.
+
+    "Love and kisses to Nellie and Emsie."
+
+This letter takes up eight pages of close writing, and I should very much
+doubt if any child ever had a more charming one from anybody. The
+whimsical fancy in it, the absolute comprehension of a child's intellect,
+the quickness with which the writer employs the slightest incident or
+thing that would be likely to please a little girl, is simply wonderful. I
+shall never forget how the letter charmed and delighted my sister Maggie
+and myself. We called it "The glove and kitten letter," and as I look at
+the tremulous handwriting which is lying by my side, it all comes back to
+me very vividly--like the sound of forgotten fingers on the latch to some
+lonely fireside watcher, when the wind is wailing round the house with a
+wilder inner note than it has in the daytime.
+
+At Eastbourne I was happier even with Lewis Carroll than I was at Oxford.
+We seemed more free, and there was the air of holiday over it all. Every
+day of my stay at the house in Lushington Road was a perfect dream of
+delight.
+
+There was one regular and fixed routine which hardly ever varied, and
+which I came to know by heart; and I will write an account of it here,
+and ask any little girl who reads it, if she ever had such a splendid time
+in her life.
+
+To begin with, we used to get up very early indeed. Our bedroom doors
+faced each other at the top of the staircase. When I came out of mine I
+always knew if I might go into his room or not by his signal. If, when I
+came into the passage, I found that a newspaper had been put under the
+door, then I knew I might go in at once; but if there was no newspaper,
+then I had to wait till it appeared. I used to sit down on the top stair
+as quiet as a mouse, watching for the paper to come under the door, when I
+would rush in almost before uncle had time to get out of the way. This was
+always the first pleasure and excitement of the day. Then we used to
+downstairs to breakfast, after which we always read a chapter out of the
+Bible. So that I should remember it, I always had to tell it to him
+afterwards as a story of my own.
+
+
+[Illustration: "LEWIS CARROLL'S" HOUSE AT EASTBOURNE]
+
+
+"Now then, Isa dearest," he would say, "tell me a story, and mind you
+begin with 'once upon a time.' A story which does not begin with 'once
+upon a time' can't possibly be a good story. It's _most_ important."
+
+When I had told my story it was time to go out.
+
+I was learning swimming at the Devonshire Park baths, and we always had a
+bargain together. He would never allow me to go to the swimming-bath--which
+I revelled in--until I had promised him faithfully that I would go
+afterwards to the dentist's.
+
+He had great ideas upon the importance of a regular and almost daily visit
+to the dentist. He himself went to a dentist as he would have gone to a
+hairdresser's, and he insisted that all the little girls he knew should go
+too. The precaution sounds strange, and one might be inclined to think
+that Lewis Carroll carried it to an unnecessary length; but I can only
+bear personal witness to the fact that I have firm strong teeth, and have
+never had a toothache in my life. I believe I owe this entirely to those
+daily visits to the Eastbourne dentist.
+
+Soon after this it was time for lunch, and we both went back hand-in-hand
+to the rooms in Lushington Road. Lewis Carroll never had a proper lunch, a
+fact which always used to puzzle me tremendously.
+
+I could not understand how a big grown-up man could live on a glass of
+sherry and a biscuit at dinner time. It seemed such a pity when there was
+lots of mutton and rice-pudding that he should not have any. I always used
+to ask him, "Aren't you hungry, uncle, even _to-day_?"
+
+After lunch I used to have a lesson in backgammon, a game of which he was
+passionately fond, and of which he could never have enough. Then came what
+to me was the great trial of the day. I am afraid I was a very lazy little
+girl in those days, and I know I hated walking far. The trial was, that
+we should walk to the top of Beachy Head every afternoon. I used to like
+it very much when I got there, but the walk was irksome. Lewis Carroll
+believed very much in a great amount of exercise, and said one should
+always go to bed physically wearied with the exercise of the day.
+Accordingly there was no way out of it, and every afternoon I had to walk
+to the top of Beachy Head. He was very good and kind. He would invent all
+sorts of new games to beguile the tedium of the way. One very curious and
+strange trait in his character was shown on these walks. I used to be very
+fond of flowers and of animals also. A pretty dog or a hedge of
+honeysuckle were always pleasant events upon a walk to me. And yet he
+himself cared for neither flowers nor animals. Tender and kind as he was,
+simple and unassuming in all his tastes, yet he did not like flowers! I
+confess that even now I find it hard to understand. He knew children so
+thoroughly and well--perhaps better than any one else--that it is all the
+stranger that he did not care for things that generally attract them so
+much. However, be that as it may, the fact remained. When I was in
+raptures over a poppy or a dogrose, he would try hard to be as interested
+as I was, but even to my childish eyes it was an obvious effort, and he
+would always rather invent some new game for us to play at. Once, and once
+only, I remember him to have taken an interest in a flower, and that was
+because of the folk-lore that was attached to it, and not because of the
+beauty of the flower itself.
+
+We used to walk into the country that stretched, in beautiful natural
+avenues of trees, inland from Eastbourne. One day while we sat under a
+great tree, and the hum of the myriad insect life rivalled the murmur of
+the far-away waves, he took a foxglove from the heap that lay in my lap
+and told me the story of how they came by their name; how, in the old
+days, when, all over England, there were great forests, like the forest
+of Arden that Shakespeare loved, the pixies, the "little folks," used to
+wander at night in the glades, like Titania, and Oberon, and Puck, and
+because they took great pride in their dainty hands they made themselves
+gloves out of the flowers. So the particular flower that the "little
+folks" used came to be called "folks' gloves." Then, because the country
+people were rough and clumsy in their talk, the name was shortened into
+"Fox-gloves," the name that every one uses now.
+
+When I got very tired we used to sit down upon the grass, and he used to
+show me the most wonderful things made out of his handkerchief. Every one
+when a child has, I suppose, seen the trick in which a handkerchief is
+rolled up to look like a mouse, and then made to jump about by a movement
+of the hand. He did this better than any one I ever saw, and the trick was
+a never-failing joy. By a sort of consent between us the handkerchief
+trick was kept especially for the walk to Beachy Head, when, about
+half-way, I was a little tired and wanted to rest. When we actually got to
+the Head there was tea waiting in the coastguard's cottage. He always said
+I ate far too much, and he would never allow me more than one rock cake
+and a cup of tea. This was an invariable rule, and much as I wished for
+it, I was never allowed to have more than one rock cake.
+
+It was in the coastguard's house or on the grass outside that I heard most
+of his stories. Sometimes he would make excursions into the realms of pure
+romance, where there were scaly dragons and strange beasts that sat up and
+talked. In all these stories there was always an adventure in a forest,
+and the great scene of each tale always took place in a wood. The
+consummation of a story was always heralded by the phrase, "The children
+now came to a deep dark wood." When I heard that sentence, which was
+always spoken very slowly and with a solemn dropping of the voice, I
+always knew that the really exciting part was coming. I used to nestle a
+little nearer to him, and he used to hold me a little closer as he told of
+the final adventure.
+
+He did not always tell me fairy tales, though I think I liked the fairy
+tale much the best. Sometimes he gave me accounts of adventures which had
+happened to him. There was one particularly thrilling story of how he was
+lost on Beachy Head in a sea fog, and had to find his way home by means of
+boulders. This was the more interesting because we were on the actual
+scene of the disaster, and to be there stimulated the imagination.
+
+The summer afternoons on the great headland were very sweet and peaceful.
+I have never met a man so sensible to the influences of Nature as Lewis
+Carroll. When the sunset was very beautiful he was often affected by the
+sight. The widespread wrinkled sea below, in the mellow melancholy light
+of the afternoon, seemed to fit in with his temperament. I have still a
+mental picture that I can recall of him on the cliff. Just as the sun was
+setting, and a cool breeze whispered round us, he would take off his hat
+and let the wind play with his hair, and he would look out to sea. Once I
+saw tears in his eyes, and when we turned to go he gripped my hand much
+tighter than usual.
+
+
+[Illustration: MISS ISA BOWMAN AND MISS BESSIE HATTON AS THE LITTLE
+PRINCES IN THE TOWER]
+
+
+We generally got back to dinner about seven or earlier. He would never let
+me change my frock for the meal, even if we were going to a concert or
+theatre afterwards. He had a curious theory that a child should not change
+her clothes twice in one day. He himself made no alteration in his dress
+at dinner time, nor would he permit me to do so. Yet he was not by any
+means an untidy or slovenly man. He had many little fads in dress, but his
+great horror and abomination was high-heeled shoes with pointed toes. No
+words were strong enough, he thought, to describe such monstrous things.
+
+Lewis Carroll was a deeply religious man, and on Sundays at Eastbourne we
+always went twice to church. Yet he held that no child should be forced
+into church-going against its will. Such a state of mind in a child, he
+said, needed most careful treatment, and the very worst thing to do was to
+make attendance at the services compulsory. Another habit of his, which
+must, I feel sure, sound rather dreadful to many, was that, should the
+sermon prove beyond my comprehension, he would give me a little book to
+read; it was better far, he maintained, to read, than to stare idly about
+the church. When the rest of the congregation rose at the entrance of the
+choir he kept his seat. He argued that rising to one's feet at such a time
+tended to make the choir-boys conceited. I think he was quite right.
+
+He kept no special books for Sunday reading, for he was most emphatically
+of opinion that anything tending to make Sunday a day dreaded by a child
+should be studiously avoided. He did not like me to sew on Sunday unless
+it was absolutely necessary.
+
+One would have hardly expected that a man of so reserved a nature as Lewis
+Carroll would have taken much interest in the stage. Yet he was devoted to
+the theatre, and one of the commonest of the treats that he gave his
+little girl friends was to organise a party for the play. As a critic of
+acting he was naive and outspoken, and never hesitated to find fault if he
+thought it justifiable. The following letter that he wrote to me
+criticising my acting in "Richard III." when I was playing with Richard
+Mansfield, is one of the most interesting that I ever received from him.
+Although it was written for a child to understand and profit by, and
+moreover written in the simplest possible way, it yet even now strikes me
+as a trenchant and valuable piece of criticism.
+
+
+[Illustration: ISA BOWMAN AS DUKE OF YORK]
+
+
+    "CH. CH. OXFORD,
+    "_Ap. 4, '89_.
+
+    "MY LORD DUKE,--The photographs, which Your Grace did me the honour of
+    sending arrived safely; and I can assure your Royal Highness that I am
+    very glad to have them, and like them _very_ much, particularly the
+    large head of your late Royal Uncle's little little son. I do not
+    wonder that your excellent Uncle Richard should say 'off with his
+    head!' as a hint to the photographer to print it off. Would your
+    Highness like me to go on calling you the Duke of York, or shall I say
+    'my own own darling Isa?' Which do you like best?
+
+    "Now I'm going to find fault with my pet about her acting. What's the
+    good of an old Uncle like me except to find fault?
+
+    "You do the meeting with the Prince of Wales _very_ nicely and
+    lovingly; and, in teasing your Uncle for his dagger and his sword, you
+    are very sweet and playful and--'but _that's_ not finding fault!' Isa
+    says to herself. Isn't it? Well, I'll try again. Didn't I hear you say
+    'In weightier things you'll say a _beggar_ nay,' leaning on the word
+    'beggar'? If so, it was a mistake. _My_ rule for knowing which word to
+    lean on is the word that tells you something _new_, something that is
+    _different_ from what you expected.
+
+    "Take the sentence 'first I bought a bag of apples, then I bought a
+    bag of pears,' you wouldn't say 'then I bought a _bag_ of pears.' The
+    'bag' is nothing new, because it was a bag in the first part of the
+    sentence. But the _pears_ are new, and different from the _apples_.
+    So you would say, 'then I bought a bag of _pears_.'
+
+    "Do you understand that, my pet?"
+
+    "Now what you say to Richard amounts to this, 'With light gifts you'll
+    say to a beggar "yes": with heavy gifts you'll say to a beggar "nay."'
+    The words 'you'll say to a beggar' are the same both times; so you
+    mustn't lean on any of _those_ words. But 'light' is different from
+    'heavy,' and 'yes' is different from 'nay.' So the way to say the
+    sentence would be 'with _light_ gifts you'll say to a beggar "_yes_":
+    with _heavy_ gifts you'll say to a beggar "_nay_".' And the way to say
+    the lines in the play is--
+
+        'O, then I see you will _part_ but with _light_ gifts;
+        In _weightier_ things you'll say a beggar _nay_.'
+
+    "One more sentence.
+
+    "When Richard says, 'What, would you have my _weapon_, little Lord?'
+    and you reply 'I _would_, that I might thank you as you call me,'
+    didn't I hear you pronounce 'thank' as if it were spelt with an 'e'? I
+    know it's very common (I often do it myself) to say 'thenk you!' as an
+    exclamation by itself. I suppose it's an odd way of pronouncing the
+    word. But I'm sure it's wrong to pronounce it so when it comes into a
+    _sentence_. It will sound _much_ nicer if you'll pronounce it so as to
+    rhyme with 'bank.'
+
+    "One more thing. ('What an impertinent old uncle! Always finding
+    fault!') You're not as _natural_, when acting the Duke, as you were
+    when you acted Alice. You seemed to me not to forgot _yourself_
+    enough. It was not so much a real _prince_ talking to his elder
+    brother and his uncle; it was _Isa Bowman_ talking to people she
+    didn't _much_ care about, for an audience to listen to--I don't mean
+    it was that all _through_, but _sometimes_ you were _artificial_. Now
+    don't be jealous of Miss Hatton, when I say she was _sweetly_ natural.
+    She looked and spoke like a _real_ Prince of Wales. And she didn't
+    seem to know that there was any audience. If you are ever to be a
+    _good_ actress (as I hope you will), you must learn to _forget_ 'Isa'
+    altogether, and _be_ the character you are playing. Try to think 'This
+    is _really_ the Prince of Wales. I'm his little brother, and I'm
+    _very_ glad to meet him, and I love him _very_ much,' and 'this is
+    _really_ my uncle: he's very kind, and lets me say saucy things to
+    him,' and _do_ forget that there's anybody else listening!
+
+    "My sweet pet, I _hope_ you won't be offended with me for saying what
+    I fancy might make your acting better!
+
+    "Your loving old Uncle,
+    "CHARLES.
+
+    X for NELLIE.
+    X for MAGGIE.
+    X for EMSIE.
+    X for ISA."
+
+He was a fairly constant patron of all the London theatres, save the
+Gaiety and the Adelphi, which he did not like, and numbered a good many
+theatrical folk among his acquaintances. Miss Ellen Terry was one of his
+greatest friends. Once I remember we made an expedition from Eastbourne to
+Margate to visit Miss Sarah Thorne's theatre, and especially for the
+purpose of seeing Miss Violet Vanbrugh's Ophelia. He was a great admirer
+of both Miss Violet and Miss Irene Vanbrugh as actresses. Of Miss Thorne's
+school of acting, too, he had the highest opinion, and it was his often
+expressed wish that all intending players could have so excellent a course
+of tuition. Among the male members of the theatrical profession he had no
+especial favourites, excepting Mr. Toole and Mr. Richard Mansfield.
+
+He never went to a music-hall, but considered that, properly managed, they
+might be beneficial to the public. It was only when the refrain of some
+particularly vulgar music-hall song broke upon his ears in the streets
+that he permitted himself to speak harshly about variety theatres.
+
+Comic opera, when it was wholesome, he liked, and was a frequent visitor
+to the Savoy theatre. The good old style of Pantomime, too, was a great
+delight to him, and he would often speak affectionately of the pantomimes
+at Brighton during the regime of Mr. and Mrs. Nye Chart. But of the
+up-to-date pantomime he had a horror, and nothing would induce him to
+visit one. "When pantomimes are written for children once more," he said,
+"I will go. Not till then."
+
+Once when a friend told him that she was about to take her little girls to
+the pantomime, he did not rest till he had dissuaded her.
+
+To conclude what I have said about Lewis Carroll's affection for the
+dramatic art, I will give a kind of examination paper, written for a child
+who had been learning a recitation called "The Demon of the Pit." Though
+his stuttering prevented him from being himself anything of a reciter, he
+loved correct elocution, and would take any pains to make a child
+perfect in a piece.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE PRINCES]
+
+
+First of all there is an explanatory paragraph.
+
+"As you don't ask any questions about 'The Demon of the Pit,' I suppose
+you understand it all. So please answer these questions just as you would
+do if a younger child (say Mollie) asked them."
+
+    _Mollie._ Please, Ethel, will you explain this poem to me. There are
+    some very hard words in it.
+
+    _Ethel._ What are they, dear?
+
+    _Mollie._ Well, in the first line, "If you chance to make a sally."
+    What does "sally" mean?
+
+    _Ethel._ Dear Mollie, I believe sally means to take a chance work.[2]
+
+    _Mollie._ Then, near the end of the first verse--"Whereupon she'll
+    call her cronies"--what does "whereupon" mean? And what are cronies?
+
+    _Ethel._ I think whereupon means at the same time, and cronies means
+    her favourite playfellows.
+
+    _Mollie._ "And invest in proud polonies." What's to "invest?"
+
+    _Ethel._ To invest means to spend money in anything you fancy.
+
+    _Mollie._ And what's "A woman of the day?"
+
+    _Ethel._ A woman of the day means a wonder of the time with the
+    general public.
+
+    _Mollie._ "Pyrotechnic blaze of wit." What's pyrotechnic?
+
+    _Ethel._ Mollie, I think you will find that pyrotechnic means quick,
+    with flashes of lightning.
+
+    _Mollie._ Then the 8 lines that begin "The astounding infant
+    wonder"--please explain "role" and "mise" and "tout ensemble" and
+    "grit."
+
+    _Ethel._ Well, Mollie, "role" means so many different things, but in
+    "The Demon of the Pit" I should think it meant the leading part of the
+    piece, and "mise" means something extra good introduced, and "tout"
+    means to seek for applause, but "ensemble" means the whole of the
+    parts taken together, and grit means something good.
+
+    _Mollie._ "And the Goblins prostrate tumble." What's "prostrate"?
+
+    _Ethel._ I believe prostrate means to be cast down and unhappy.
+
+    _Mollie._ "And his accents shake a bit." What are "accents"?
+
+    _Ethel._ To accent is to lay stress upon a word.
+
+    _Mollie._ "Waits resignedly behind." What's "resignedly"?
+
+    _Ethel._ Resignedly means giving up, yielding.
+
+    _Mollie._ "They have tripe as light to dream on." What does "as" mean
+    here? and what does "to dream on" mean?
+
+    _Ethel._ Mollie, dear, your last question is very funny. In the first
+    place, I have always been told that hot suppers are not good for any
+    one, and I should think that tripe would _not be light_ to dream on
+    but VERY heavy.
+
+    _Mollie._ Thank you, Ethel.
+
+I have now nearly finished my little memoir of Lewis Carroll; that is to
+say, I have written down all that I can remember of my personal knowledge
+of him. But I think it is from the letters and the diaries published in
+this book that my readers must chiefly gain an insight into the character
+of the greatest friend to children who ever lived. Not only did he study
+children's ways for his own pleasure, but he studied them in order that he
+might please them. For instance, here is a letter that he wrote to my
+little sister Nelly eight years ago, which begins on the last page and is
+written entirely backwards--a kind of variant on his famous
+"Looking-Glass" writing. You have to begin at the last word and read
+backwards before you can understand it. The only ordinary thing about it
+is the date. It begins--I mean _begins_ if one was to read it in the
+ordinary way--with the characteristic monogram, C. L. D.
+
+    "_Nov. 1, 1891._
+
+    "C. L. D., Uncle loving your! Instead grandson his to it give to had
+    you that so, years 80 or 70 for it forgot you that was it pity a what
+    and: him of fond so were you wonder don't I and, gentleman old nice
+    very a was he. For it made you that _him_ been have _must_ it see you
+    so: _grandfather_ my was, _then_ alive was that, 'Dodgson Uncle' only
+    the. Born was _I_ before long was that, see you, then But. 'Dodgson
+    Uncle for pretty thing some make I'll now,' it began you when,
+    yourself to said you that, me telling her without, knew I course of
+    and: ago years many great a it made had you said she. Me told Isa what
+    from was it? For meant was it who out made I how know you do! Lasted
+    has it well how and. Grandfather my for made had you Antimacassar
+    pretty that me give to you of nice so was it, Nelly dear my."
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+Miss Hatch has also sent me an original letter that Lewis Carroll wrote to
+her in 1873, about a large wax doll that he had given her. It is
+interesting to notice that this letter, written long before any of the
+others that he wrote to me, is identically the same in form and
+expression. It is a striking proof how fresh and unimpaired the writer's
+sympathies must have been. Year after year he retained the same sweet,
+kindly temperament, and, if anything, his love for children seemed to
+increase as he grew older.
+
+    "MY DEAR BIRDIE,--I met her just outside Tom Gate, walking very
+    stiffly, and I think she was trying to find her way to my rooms. So I
+    said, 'Why have you come here without Birdie?' So she said, 'Birdie's
+    gone! and Emily's gone! and Mabel isn't kind to me!' And two little
+    waxy tears came running down her cheeks.
+
+    "Why, how stupid of me! I've never told you who it was all the time!
+    It was your new doll. I was very glad to see her, and I took her to my
+    room, and gave her some vesta matches to eat, and a cup of nice melted
+    wax to drink, for the poor little thing was _very_ hungry and thirsty
+    after her long walk. So I said, 'Come and sit down by the fire, and
+    let's have a comfortable chat?' 'Oh no! _no_!' she said, 'I'd _much_
+    rather not. You know I do melt so _very_ easily!' And she made me take
+    her quite to the other side of the room, where it was _very_ cold: and
+    then she sat on my knee, and fanned herself with a pen-wiper, because
+    she said she was afraid the end of her nose was beginning to melt.
+
+    "'You've no _idea_ how careful we have to be,' we dolls, she said.
+    'Why, there was a sister of mine--would you believe it?--she went up
+    to the fire to warm her hands, and one of her hands dropped _right_
+    off! There now!' 'Of course it dropped _right_ off,' I said, 'because
+    it was the _right_ hand.' 'And how do you know it was the _right_
+    hand, Mister Carroll?' the doll said. So I said, 'I think it must have
+    been the _right_ hand because the other hand was _left_.'
+
+    "The doll said, 'I shan't laugh. It's a very bad joke. Why, even a
+    common wooden doll could make a better joke than that. And besides,
+    they've made my mouth so stiff and hard, that I _can't_ laugh if I try
+    ever so much?' 'Don't be cross about it,' I said, 'but tell me this:
+    I'm going to give Birdie and the other children one photograph each,
+    which ever they choose; which do you think Birdie will choose?' 'I
+    don't know,' said the doll; 'you'd better ask her!' So I took her home
+    in a hansom cab. Which would you like, do you think? Arthur as Cupid?
+    or Arthur and Wilfred together? or you and Ethel as beggar children?
+    or Ethel standing on a box? or, one of yourself?--Your affectionate
+    friend,
+
+    "LEWIS CARROLL."
+
+Among the bundle of letters and MS. before me, I find written on a half
+sheet of note-paper the following Ollendorfian dialogue. It is interesting
+because, slight and trivial as it is, it in some strange way bears the
+imprint of Lewis Carroll's style. The thing is written in the familiar
+violet ink, and neatly dated in the corner 29/9/90:--
+
+"Let's go and look at the house I want to buy. Now do be quick! You move
+so slow! What a time you take with your boots!"
+
+"Don't make such a row about it: it's not two o'clock yet. How do you like
+_this_ house?"
+
+"I don't like it. It's too far down the hill. Let's go higher. I heard a
+nice account of one at the top, built on an improved plan."
+
+"What does the rent amount to?"
+
+"Oh, the rent's all right: it's only nine pounds a year."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over all matters connected with letter writing, Lewis Carroll was
+accustomed to take great pains. All letters that he received that were of
+any interest or importance whatever he kept, putting them away in old
+biscuit tins, numbers of which he kept for the purpose.
+
+
+[Illustration: "DOLLY VARDEN"]
+
+
+In 1888 he published a little book which he called "Eight or Nine Wise
+Words about Letter Writing," and as this little book of mine is so full of
+letters, I think I can do no better than make a few extracts:--
+
+    "_Write Legibly._--The average temper of the human race would be
+    perceptibly sweeter if every one obeyed this rule! A great deal of the
+    bad writing in the world comes simply from writing too quickly. Of
+    course you reply, 'I do it to save time.' A very good object, no
+    doubt; but what right have you to do it at your friend's expense?
+    Isn't _his_ time as valuable as yours? Years ago I used to receive
+    letters from a friend--and very interesting letters too--written in
+    one of the most atrocious hands ever invented. It generally took me
+    about a _week_ to read one of his letters! I used to carry it about in
+    my pocket, and take it out at leisure times, to puzzle over the
+    riddles which composed it--holding it in different positions, and at
+    different distances, till at last the meaning of some hopeless scrawl
+    would flash upon me, when I at once wrote down the English under it;
+    and, when several had thus been guessed, the context would help one
+    with the others, till at last the whole series of hieroglyphics was
+    deciphered. If _all_ one's friends wrote like that, life would be
+    entirely spent in reading their letters."
+
+In writing the last wise word, the author no doubt had some of his girl
+correspondents in his mind's eye, for he says--
+
+    "_My Ninth Rule._--When you get to the end of a note sheet, and find
+    you have more to say, take another piece of paper--a whole sheet or a
+    scrap, as the case may demand; but, whatever you do, _don't cross_!
+    Remember the old proverb, 'Cross writing makes cross reading.' 'The
+    _old_ proverb,' you say inquiringly; 'how old?' Well, not so _very_
+    ancient, I must confess. In fact I'm afraid I invented it while
+    writing this paragraph. Still you know 'old' is a comparative term. I
+    think you would be _quite_ justified in addressing a chicken just out
+    of the shell as 'Old Boy!' _when compared_ with another chicken that
+    was only half out!"
+
+I have another diary to give to my readers, a diary that Lewis Carroll
+wrote for my sister Maggie when, a tiny child, she came to Oxford to play
+the child part, Mignon, in "Booties' Baby." He was delighted with the
+pretty play, for the interest that the soldiers took in the little lost
+girl, and how a mere interest ripened into love, till the little Mignon
+was queen of the barracks, went straight to his heart. I give the diary in
+full:--
+
+"MAGGIE'S VISIT TO OXFORD
+
+JUNE 9 TO 13, 1899
+
+  When Maggie once to Oxford came
+    On tour as 'Booties' Baby,'
+  She said 'I'll see this place of fame,
+    However dull the day be!'
+
+  So with her friend she visited
+    The sights that it was rich in:
+  And first of all she poked her head
+    Inside the Christ Church Kitchen.
+
+  The cooks around that little child
+    Stood waiting in a ring:
+  And, every time that Maggie smiled,
+    Those cooks began to sing--
+    Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Roast, boil, and bake,
+      For Maggie's sake!
+      Bring cutlets fine,
+      For _her_ to dine:
+      Meringues so sweet,
+      For _her_ to eat--
+      For Maggie may be
+      Bootles' Baby!'
+
+  Then hand-in-hand, in pleasant talk,
+    They wandered, and admired
+  The Hall, Cathedral, and Broad Walk,
+    Till Maggie's feet were tired:
+
+  One friend they called upon--her name
+    Was Mrs. Hassall--then
+  Into a College Room they came,
+    Some savage Monster's Den!
+
+  'And, when that Monster dined, I guess
+    He tore her limb from limb?'
+  Well, no: in fact, I must confess
+    That _Maggie dined with him_!
+
+  To Worcester Garden next they strolled--
+    Admired its quiet lake:
+  Then to St. John's, a College old,
+    Their devious way they take.
+
+  In idle mood they sauntered round
+    Its lawns so green and flat:
+  And in that Garden Maggie found
+    A lovely Pussey-Cat!
+
+  A quarter of an hour they spent
+    In wandering to and fro:
+  And everywhere that Maggie went,
+    That Cat was sure to go--
+    Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Miaow! Miaow!
+      Come, make your bow!
+      Take off your hats,
+      Ye Pussy Cats!
+      And purr, and purr,
+      To welcome _her_--
+      For Maggie may be
+      Bootles' Baby!'
+
+  So back to Christ Church--not too late
+    For them to go and see
+  A Christ Church Undergraduate,
+    Who gave them cakes and tea.
+
+  Next day she entered, with her guide,
+    The Garden called 'Botanic':
+  And there a fierce Wild-Boar she spied,
+    Enough to cause a panic!
+
+  But Maggie didn't mind, not she!
+    She would have faced _alone_,
+  That fierce Wild-Boar, because, you see,
+    The thing was made of stone!
+
+  On Magdalen walls they saw a face
+    That filled her with delight,
+  A giant-face, that made grimace
+    And grinned with all its might!
+
+  A little friend, industrious,
+    Pulled upwards, all the while,
+  The corner of its mouth, and thus
+    He helped that face to smile!
+
+  'How nice,' thought Maggie, 'it would be
+    If _I_ could have a friend
+  To do that very thing for _me_,
+  And make my mouth turn up with glee,
+    By pulling at one end!'
+
+  In Magdalen Park the deer are wild
+    With joy that Maggie brings
+  Some bread a friend had given the child,
+    To feed the pretty things.
+
+  They flock round Maggie without fear:
+    They breakfast and they lunch,
+  They dine, they sup, those happy deer--
+    Still, as they munch and munch,
+    Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Yes, Deer are we,
+      And dear is she!
+      We love this child
+      So sweet and mild:
+      We all rejoice
+      At Maggie's voice:
+      We all are fed
+      With Maggie's bread--
+      For Maggie may be
+      Bootles' Baby!'
+
+  To Pembroke College next they go,
+    Where little Maggie meets
+  The Master's wife and daughter: so
+    Once more into the streets.
+
+  They met a Bishop on their way--
+    A Bishop large as life--
+  With loving smile that seemed to say
+    'Will Maggie be my wife?'
+
+  Maggie thought _not_, because, you see,
+    She was so _very_ young,
+  And he was old as old could be--
+    So Maggie held her tongue.
+
+  'My Lord, she's _Bootles' Baby_: we
+    Are going up and down,'
+  Her friend explained, 'that she may see
+    The sights of Oxford-town.'
+
+  'Now say what kind of place it is!'
+    The Bishop gaily cried.
+  'The best place in the Provinces!'
+    That little maid replied.
+
+  Next to New College, where they saw
+    Two players hurl about
+  A hoop, but by what rule or law
+    They could not quite make out.
+
+  'Ringo' the Game is called, although
+    'Les Graces' was once its name,
+  When _it_ was--as its name will show--
+    A much more _graceful_ Game.
+
+  The Misses Symonds next they sought,
+    Who begged the child to take
+  A book they long ago had bought--
+    A gift for friendship's sake!
+
+  Away, next morning, Maggie went
+    From Oxford-town: but yet
+  The happy hours she there had spent
+    She could not soon forget.
+
+  The train is gone: it rumbles on:
+    The engine-whistle screams:
+  But Maggie's deep in rosy sleep--
+    And softly, in her dreams,
+    Whispers the Battle-cry of Freedom!
+
+      'Oxford, good-bye!'
+      She seems to sigh,
+      'You dear old City,
+      With Gardens pretty,
+      And lawns, and flowers,
+      And College-towers,
+      And Tom's great Bell--
+      Farewell, farewell!
+      For Maggie may be
+      Booties' Baby!'
+
+                    --LEWIS CARROLL."
+
+
+[Illustration: "A TURK"]
+
+
+The tale has been often told of how "Alice in Wonderland" came to be
+written, but it is a tale so well worth the telling again, that, very
+shortly, I will give it to you here.
+
+Years ago in the great quadrangle of Christ Church, opposite to Mr.
+Dodgson, lived the little daughters of Dean Liddell, the great Greek
+scholar and Dean of Christ Church. The little girls were great friends of
+Mr. Dodgson's, and they used often to come to him and to plead with him
+for a fairy tale. There was never such a teller of tales, they thought!
+One can imagine the whole delightful scene with little trouble. That big
+cool room on some summer's afternoon, when the air was heavy with flower
+scents, and the sounds that came floating in through the open window were
+all mellowed by the distance. One can see him, that good and kindly
+gentleman, his mobile face all aglow with interest and love, telling the
+immortal story.
+
+Round him on his knee sat the little sisters, their eyes wide open and
+their lips parted in breathless anticipation. When Alice (how the little
+Alice Liddell who was listening must have loved the tale!) rubbed the
+mushroom and became so big that she quite filled the little fairy house,
+one can almost hear the rapturous exclamations of the little ones as they
+heard of it.
+
+The story, often continued on many summer afternoons, sometimes in the
+cool Christ Church rooms, sometimes in a slow gliding boat in a still
+river between banks of rushes and strange bronze and yellow waterflowers,
+or sometimes in a great hay-field, with the insects whispering in the
+grass all round, grew in its conception and idea.
+
+Other folk, older folk, came to hear of it from the little ones, and Mr.
+Dodgson was begged to write it down. Accordingly the first MS. was
+prepared with great care and illustrated by the author. Then, in 1865,
+memorable year for English children, "Alice" appeared in its present form,
+with Sir John Tenniel's drawings.
+
+In 1872 "Alice Through the Looking-Glass," appeared, and was received as
+warmly as its predecessor. That fact, I think, proves most conclusively
+that Lewis Carroll's success was a success of absolute merit, and due to
+no mere mood or fashion of the public taste. I can conceive nothing more
+difficult for a man who has had a great success with one book than to
+write a sequel which should worthily succeed it. In the present case that
+is exactly what Lewis Carroll did. "Through the Looking-Glass" is every
+whit as popular and charming as the older book. Indeed one depends very
+much upon the other, and in every child's book-shelves one sees the two
+masterpieces side by side.
+
+
+[Illustrations: Facsimile:
+
+B.H.
+
+from C. L. D.
+
+
+A CHARADE.
+
+[NB FIVE POUNDS will be given to any one who succeeds in writing an
+original poetical Charade, introducing the line "My First is followed by a
+bird," but making no use of the answer to this Charade.
+
+Ap 8 1878
+
+(signed)
+
+Lewis Carroll]
+
+  My First is a singular at best
+    More plural is my Second.
+  My Third is far the pluralest--
+  So plural-plural, I protest,
+    It scarcely can be reckoned!
+
+  My First is followed by a bird
+    My Second by believers
+  In magic art: my simple Third
+  Follows, too often, hopes absurd,
+    And plausible deceivers.
+
+  My First to get at wisdom tries--
+    A failure melancholy!
+  My Second men revere as wise:
+  My Third from heights of wisdom fall
+    To depths of frantic folly!
+
+  My First is ageing day by day,
+    My Second's age is ended.
+  My Third enjoys an age, they say,
+  That never seems to fade away,
+    Through centuries extended!
+
+  My Whole? I need a Poet's pen
+    To paint her myriad phases
+  The monarch, and the slave, of men--
+  A mountain-summit, and a den
+    Of dark and deadly mazes!
+
+  A flashing light--a fleeting shade--
+    Beginning, end, and middle
+  Of all that human art hath made,
+  Or wit devised "Go, seek her aid,
+    If you would guess my riddle."]
+
+
+While on the subject of the two "Alices," I will put in a letter that he
+wrote mentioning his books. He was so modest about them, that it was
+extremely difficult to get him to say, or write, anything at all about
+them. I believe it was a far greater pleasure for him to know that he had
+pleased some child with "Alice" or "The Hunting of the Snark," than it was
+to be hailed by the press and public as the first living writer for
+children.
+
+    "EASTBOURNE.
+
+    "MY OWN DARLING ISA,--The full value of a copy of the French 'Alice'
+    is L45: but, as you want the 'cheapest' kind, and as you are a great
+    friend of mine, and as I am of a very noble, generous disposition, I
+    have made up my mind to a _great_ sacrifice, and have taken L3, 10s.
+    0d. off the price. So that you do not owe me more than L41, 10s. 0d.,
+    and this you can pay me, in gold or bank-notes _as soon as you ever
+    like_. Oh dear! I wonder why I write such nonsense! Can you explain to
+    me, my pet, how it happens that when I take up my pen to write a
+    letter to _you_ it won't write sense? Do you think the rule is that
+    when the pen finds it has to write to a nonsensical good-for-nothing
+    child, it sets to work to write a nonsensical good-for-nothing letter?
+    Well, now I'll tell you the real truth. As Miss Kitty Wilson is a
+    dear friend of yours, of course she's a _sort_ of a friend of mine. So
+    I thought (in my vanity) 'perhaps she would like to have a copy' from
+    the author, 'with her name written in it.' So I've sent her one--but I
+    hope she'll understand that I do it because she's _your_ friend, for,
+    you see, I had never _heard_ of her before: so I wouldn't have any
+    other reason.
+
+    "I'm still exactly 'on the balance' (like those scales of mine, when
+    Nellie says 'it won't weigh!') as to whether it would be wise to have
+    my pet Isa down here! how _am_ I to make it weigh, I wonder? Can you
+    advise any way to do it? I'm getting on grandly with 'Sylvie and Bruno
+    Concluded.' I'm afraid you'll expect me to give you a copy of it?
+    Well, I'll see if I have one to spare. It won't be out before
+    Easter-tide, I'm afraid.
+
+    "I wonder what sort of condition the book is in that I lent you to
+    take to America? ('Laneton Parsonage,' I mean). Very shabby, I expect.
+    I find lent books _never_ come back in good condition. However, I've
+    got a second copy of this book, so you may keep it as your own. Love
+    and kisses to any one you know who is lovely and kissable.--
+
+    "Always your loving Uncle,
+    "C. L. D."
+
+In 1876 appeared the long poem called the "Hunting of the Snark; or, An
+Agony in Eight Fits," and besides those verses we have from Lewis
+Carroll's pen two books called "Phantasmagoria" and "Rhyme and Reason."
+
+The last work of his that attained any great celebrity was "Sylvie and
+Bruno," a curious romance, half fairy tale, half mathematical treatise.
+Mr. Dodgson was employed of late years on his "Symbolic Logic," only one
+part of which has been published, and he seems to have been influenced by
+his studies. One can easily trace the trail of the logician in Sylvie and
+Bruno, and perhaps this resulted in a certain lack of "form." However,
+some of the nonsense verses in this book were up to the highest level of
+the author's achievement. Even as I write the verse comes to me--
+
+  "He thought he saw a kangaroo
+  Turning a coffee-mill;
+  He looked again, and found it was
+  A vegetable pill!
+  'Were I to swallow you,' he said,
+  'I should be very ill'!"
+
+The fascinating jingle stays in the memory when graver verse eludes all
+effort at recollection. I personally could repeat "The Walrus and the
+Carpenter" from beginning to end without hesitation, but I should find a
+difficulty in writing ten lines of "Hamlet" correctly.
+
+At the beginning of "Sylvie and Bruno" is a little poem in three verses
+which forms an acrostic on my name. I quote it--
+
+  "Is all our life, then, but a dream,
+  Seen faintly in the golden gleam
+  Athwart Time's dark resistless stream?
+
+  Bowed to the earth with bitter woe,
+  Or laughing at some raree-show,
+  We flutter idly to and fro.
+
+  Man's little day in haste we spend,
+  And, from its merry noontide, send
+  No glance to meet the silent end."
+
+You see that if you take the first letter of each line, or if you take the
+first three letters of the first line of each verse, you get the name Isa
+Bowman.
+
+
+[Illustration: Facsimile:
+
+Prologue
+
+[Enter Beatrice, leading Wilfred She leaves him to centre (front) & after
+going round on tip-toe to make sure they are not overheard returns & takes
+his arm.]
+
+  B. "Wiffie! I'm sure that something is the matter!
+  All day there's been--oh such a fuss and clatter!
+  Mamma's been trying on a funny dress--
+  I never =saw= the house in such a mess!
+  (puts her arm round his neck)
+  Is there a secret, Wiffie?"
+
+  W. (Shaking her off) "yes, of course!"
+
+  B. "And you won't tell it? (whispers) Then you're very cross!
+  (turns away from, & clasps her hands, looking up ecstatically)
+  I'm sure of =this=! It's something =quite= uncommon!"
+
+  W. (stretching up his arms with a mock-heroic air)
+  "Oh, Curiosity! Thy name is Woman!
+  (puts his arm round her coaxingly)
+  Well, Birdie, then I'll tell. (mysteriously) What should you say
+  If they were going to act--a little play?"
+
+  B. (jumping and clapping her hands)
+  "I'd say '=How nice=!'"
+
+  W. (pointing to audience)
+  "But will it please the rest?"
+
+  B. "Oh =yes=! Because, you know, they'll do their best!
+  [turns to audience]
+  "You'll praise them, won't you, when you've seen the play?
+  Just say '=How nice=!' before you go away!"
+  [they run away hand in hand].
+
+  Feb 14. 1873.]
+
+
+Although he never wrote anything in the dramatic line, he once wrote a
+prologue for some private theatricals, which was to be spoken by Miss
+Hatch and her brother. This prologue is reproduced in facsimile on the
+preceding page.
+
+Miss Hatch has also sent me a charade (reproduced on pp. 108-10) which he
+wrote for her, and illustrated with some of his funny drawings.
+
+I have one more letter, the last, which, as it mentions the book "Sylvie
+and Bruno," I will give now.
+
+    "CHRIST CHURCH,
+    "_May 16, '90_.
+
+    "DEAREST ISA,--I had this ('this' was 'Sylvie and Bruno') bound for
+    you when the book first came out, and it's been waiting here ever
+    since Dec. 17, for I really didn't dare to send it across the
+    Atlantic--the whales are so inconsiderate. They'd have been sure to
+    want to borrow it to show to the little whales, quite forgetting that
+    the salt water would be sure to spoil it.
+
+    "Also, I've only been waiting for you to get back to send Emsie the
+    'Nursery Alice.' I give it to the youngest in a family generally; but
+    I've given one to Maggie as well, because she travels about so much,
+    and I thought she would like to have one to take with her. I hope
+    Nellie's eyes won't get _quite_ green with jealousy, at two (indeed
+    _three_!) of her sisters getting presents, and nothing for her! I've
+    nothing but my love to send her to-day: but she shall have _something
+    some_ day.--Ever your loving
+
+    "UNCLE CHARLES."
+
+Socially, Lewis Carroll was of strong conservative tendencies. He viewed
+with wonder and a little pain the absolute levelling tendencies of the
+last few years of his life. I have before me an extremely interesting
+letter which deals with social observances, and from which I am able to
+make one or two extracts. The bulk of the letter is of a private nature.
+
+    "Ladies have 'to be _much_' more particular than gentlemen in
+    observing the distinctions of what is called 'social position': and
+    the _lower_ their own position is (in the scale of 'lady' ship), the
+    more jealous they seem to be in guarding it.... I've met with just the
+    same thing myself from people several degrees above me. Not long ago I
+    was staying in a house along with a young lady (about twenty years
+    old, I should think) with a title of her own, as she was an earl's
+    daughter. I happened to sit next her at dinner, and every time I
+    spoke to her, she looked at me more as if she was looking down on me
+    from about a mile up in the air, and as if she were saying to herself
+    'How _dare_ you speak to _me_! Why, you're not good enough to black my
+    shoes!' It was so unpleasant, that, next day at luncheon, I got as far
+    off her as I could!
+
+    "Of course we are all _quite_ equal in God's sight, but we _do_ make a
+    lot of distinctions (some of them quite unmeaning) among ourselves!"
+
+The picture that this letter gives of the famous writer and learned
+mathematician obviously rather in terror of some pert young lady fresh
+from the schoolroom is not without its comic side. One cannot help
+imagining that the girl must have been very young indeed, for if he were
+alive to-day there are few ladies of any state who would not feel honoured
+by the presence of Charles Dodgson.
+
+However, he was not always so unfortunate in his experience of great
+people, and the following letter, written when he was staying with Lord
+Salisbury at Hatfield House, tells delightfully of his little royal
+friends, the Duchess of Albany's children:
+
+    "HATFIELD HOUSE, HATFIELD,
+    "HERTS, _June 8, '89_."
+
+    "MY DARLING ISA,--I hope this will find you, but I haven't yet had any
+    letter from _Fulham_, so I can't be sure if you have yet got into your
+    new house.
+
+    "This is Lord Salisbury's house (he is the father, you know, of that
+    Lady Maud Wolmer that we had luncheon with): I came yesterday, and I'm
+    going to stay until Monday. It is such a nice house to stay in! They
+    let one do just as one likes--it isn't 'Now you must do some
+    geography! now it's time for your sums!' the sort of life _some_
+    little girls have to lead when they are so foolish as to visit
+    friends--but one can just please one's own dear self.
+
+    "There are some sweet little children staying in the house. Dear
+    little 'Wang' is here with her mother. By the way, _I_ made a mistake
+    in telling you what to call her. She is 'the Honourable Mabel
+    _Palmer_'--'Palmer' is the family name: 'Wolmer' is the _title_, just
+    as the _family_ name of Lord Salisbury is 'Cecil,' so that his
+    daughter was Lady Maud Cecil, till she married.
+
+    "Then there is the Duchess of Albany here, with two such sweet little
+    children. She is the widow of Prince Leopold (the Queen's youngest
+    son), so her children are a Prince and Princess: the girl is 'Alice,'
+    but I don't know the boy's Christian name: they call him 'Albany,'
+    because he is the Duke of Albany. Now that I have made friends with a
+    real live little Princess, I don't intend ever to _speak_ to any more
+    children that haven't any titles. In fact, I'm so proud, and I hold my
+    chin so high, that I shouldn't even _see_ you if we met! No, darlings,
+    you mustn't believe _that_. If I made friends with a _dozen_
+    Princesses, I would love you better than all of them together, even if
+    I had them all rolled up into a sort of child-roly-poly.
+
+    "Love to Nellie and Emsie.--Your ever loving Uncle,
+
+    "C. L. D."
+    X X X X X X X
+
+And now I think that I have done all that has been in my power to present
+Lewis Carroll to you in his most delightful aspect--as a friend to
+children. I have not pretended in any way to write an exhaustive
+life-story of the man who was so dear to me, but by the aid of the letters
+and the diaries that I have been enabled to publish, and by the few
+reminiscences that I have given you of Lewis Carroll as I knew him, I hope
+I have done something to bring still nearer to your hearts the memory of
+the greatest friend that children ever had.
+
+
+
+
+Footnotes:
+
+[1] This refers to my visit to America when, as a child, I played the
+little Duke of York in "Richard III."
+
+[2] At this point the real child's answers begin, the three or four lines
+alone were written by Mr. Dodgson himself.--ED.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.
+
+Underlined passages are indicated by =underline=.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Lewis Carroll, by Isa Bowman
+
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