Second only to Lewis Carroll’s stories in the delight they afforded his
young friends were his acrostics, in the composition of which he showed
a remarkable talent. There were few of his child favourites whose names
he did not embody in verses of this kind; some, as in the case of Isa
Bowman in “Sylvie and Bruno,” and Gertrude Chataway in “The Hunting of
the Snark,” he recorded for posterity in acrostical dedications in his
books, but most of these rhymes were composed merely for the amusement
of the children concerned, with no thought of publication.
One of the best he wrote across the fly-leaf of a copy of “The Hunting
of the Snark,” which he sent to Miss Adelaide Paine in 1876. It runs
thus:
“A re you deaf, Father William?” the young man said.
“D id you hear what I told you just now?
“E xcuse me for shouting! Don’t waggle your head
“L ike a blundering, sleepy old cow!
“A little maid dwelling in Wallington Town,
“I s my friend, so I beg to remark:
“D o you think she’d be pleased if a book were sent down
“E ntitled ‘The Hunt of the Snark’?”
“P ack it up in brown paper!” the old man cried,
“A nd seal it with olive-and-dove.
“I command you to do it!” he added with pride,
“N or forget, my good fellow, to send her beside
“E aster Greetings, and give her my love.”
Very few of Mr. Carroll’s acrostics were in this nonsensical
strain, however, the vast majority being either serious or quaintly
complimentary, as in this example on the name of Miss Sarah Sinclair
(1878):