Chestnuts, Guildford, _January_ 15, 1886_The Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll (Rev. C. L. Dodgson)

Yes, my child, if all be well, I shall hope, and you may

fear, that the train reaching Hook at two eleven, will

contain

Your loving friend,

C.L. Dodgson.

Only a few years ago, illness prevented him from fulfilling his usual

custom of spending Christmas with his sisters at Guildford. This is

the allusion in the following letter:--

My dear old Friend,--(The friendship is old, though the

child is young.) I wish a very happy New Year, and many of

them, to you and yours; but specially to you, because I know

you best and love you most. And I pray God to bless you,

dear child, in this bright New Year, and many a year to

come. ... I write all this from my sofa, where I have been

confined a prisoner for six weeks, and as I dreaded the

railway journey, my doctor and I agreed that I had better

not go to spend Christmas with my sisters at Guildford. So I

had my Christmas dinner all alone, in my room here, and

(pity me, Gertrude!) it wasn't a Christmas dinner at all--I

suppose the cook thought I should not care for roast beef or

plum pudding, so he sent me (he has general orders to send

either fish and meat, or meat and pudding) some fried sole

and some roast mutton! Never, never have I dined before, on

Christmas Day, without _plum pudding_. Wasn't it sad?

Now I think you must be content; this is a longer letter

than most will get. Love to Olive. My clearest memory of her

is of a little girl calling out "Good-night" from her room,

and of your mother taking me in to see her in her bed, and

wish her good-night. I have a yet clearer memory (like a

dream of fifty years ago) of a little bare-legged girl in a

sailor's jersey, who used to run up into my lodgings by the

sea. But why should I trouble you with foolish reminiscences

of _mine_ that _cannot_ interest you?

Yours always lovingly,

C. L. Dodgson.

It was a writer in _The National Review_ who, after eulogising

the talents of Lewis Carroll, and stating that _he_ would never

be forgotten, added the harsh prophecy that "future generations will

not waste a single thought upon the Rev. C.L. Dodgson."

If this prediction is destined to be fulfilled, I think my readers

will agree with me that it will be solely on account of his

extraordinary diffidence about asserting himself. But such an

unnatural division of Lewis Carroll, the author, from the Rev. C.L.

Dodgson, the man, is forced in the extreme. His books are simply the

expression of his normal habit of mind, as these letters show. In

literature, as in everything else, he was absolutely natural.

To refer to such criticisms as this (I am thankful to say they have

been very few) is not agreeable; but I feel that it is owing to Mr.

Dodgson to do what I can to vindicate the real unity which underlay

both his life and all his writings.

Of many anecdotes which might be adduced to show the lovable character

of the man, the following little story has reached me through one of

his child-friends:--

My sister and I [she writes] were spending a day of

delightful sightseeing in town with him, on our way to his

home at Guildford, where we were going to pass a day or two

with him. We were both children, and were much interested

when he took us into an American shop where the cakes for

sale were cooked by a very rapid process before your eyes,

and handed to you straight from the cook's hands. As the

preparation of them could easily be seen from outside the

window, a small crowd of little ragamuffins naturally

assembled there, and I well remember his piling up seven of

the cakes on one arm, and himself taking them out and doling

them round to the seven hungry little youngsters. The simple

kindness of his act impressed its charm on his child-friends

inside the shop as much as on his little stranger friends

outside.

It was only to those who had but few personal dealings with him that

he seemed stiff and "donnish"; to his more intimate acquaintances, who

really understood him, each little eccentricity of manner or of habits

was a delightful addition to his charming and interesting personality.

That he was, in some respects, eccentric cannot be denied; for

instance he hardly ever wore an overcoat, and always wore a tall hat,

whatever might be the climatic conditions. At dinner in his rooms

small pieces of cardboard took the place of table-mats; they answered

the purpose perfectly well, he said, and to buy anything else would be

a mere waste of money. On the other hand, when purchasing books for

himself, or giving treats to the children he loved, he never seemed to

consider expense at all.

He very seldom sat down to write, preferring to stand while thus

engaged. When making tea for his friends, he used, in order, I

suppose, to expedite the process, to walk up and down the room waving

the teapot about, and telling meanwhile those delightful anecdotes of

which he had an inexhaustible supply.

Great were his preparations before going a journey; each separate

article used to be carefully wrapped up in a piece of paper all to

itself, so that his trunks contained nearly as much paper as of the

more useful things. The bulk of the luggage was sent on a day or two

before by goods train, while he himself followed on the appointed day,

laden only with his well-known little black bag, which he always

insisted on carrying himself.

He had a strong objection to staring colours in dress, his favourite

combination being pink and grey. One little girl who came to stay with

him was absolutely forbidden to wear a red frock, of a somewhat

pronounced hue, while out in his company.

At meals he was very abstemious always, while he took nothing in the

middle of the day except a glass of wine and a biscuit. Under these

circumstances it is not very surprising that the healthy appetites of

his little friends filled him with wonder, and even with alarm. When

he took a certain one of them out with him to a friend's house to

dinner, he used to give the host or hostess a gentle warning, to the

mixed amazement and indignation of the child, "Please be careful,

because she eats a good deal too much."

Another peculiarity, which I have already referred to, was his

objection to being invited to dinners or any other social gatherings;

he made a rule of never accepting invitations. "Because you have

invited me, therefore I cannot come," was the usual form of his

refusal. I suppose the reason of this was his hatred of the

interference with work which engagements of this sort occasion.

He had an extreme horror of infection, as will appear from the

following illustration. Miss Isa Bowman and her sister, Nellie, were

at one time staying with him at Eastbourne, when news came from home

that their youngest sister had caught the scarlet fever. From that day

every letter which came from Mrs. Bowman to the children was held up

by Mr. Dodgson, while the two little girls, standing at the opposite

end of the room, had to read it as best they could. Mr. Dodgson, who

was the soul of honour, used always to turn his head to one side

during these readings, lest he might inadvertently see some words that

were not meant for his eyes.

Some extracts from letters of his to a child-friend, who prefers to

remain anonymous, follow:

_November_ 30, 1879.

I have been awfully busy, and I've had to write _heaps_

of letters--wheelbarrows full, almost. And it tires me so

that generally I go to bed again the next minute after I get

up: and sometimes I go to bed again a minute _before_ I

get up! Did you ever hear of any one being so tired as

_that?_...

_November_ 7, 1882.

My dear E--, How often you must find yourself in want of a

pin! For instance, you go into a shop, and you say to the

man, "I want the largest penny bun you can let me have for a

halfpenny." And perhaps the man looks stupid, and doesn't

quite understand what you mean. Then how convenient it is to

have a pin ready to stick into the back of his hand, while

you say, "Now then! Look sharp, stupid!"... and even when

you don't happen to want a pin, how often you think to

yourself, "They say Interlacken is a very pretty place. I

wonder what it looks like!" (That is the place that is

painted on this pincushion.)

When you don't happen to want either a pin or pictures, it

may just remind you of a friend who sometimes thinks of his

dear little friend E--, and who is just now thinking of the

day he met her on the parade, the first time she had been

allowed to come out alone to look for him....

_December_ 26, 1886.

My dear E--, Though rushing, rapid rivers roar between us

(if you refer to the map of England, I think you'll find

that to be correct), we still remember each other, and feel

a sort of shivery affection for each other....

_March_ 31, 1890.

I _do_ sympathise so heartily with you in what you say

about feeling shy with children when you have to entertain

them! Sometimes they are a real _terror_ to

me--especially boys: little girls I can now and then get on

with, when they're few enough. They easily become "de trop."

But with little _boys_ I'm out of my element

altogether. I sent "Sylvie and Bruno" to an Oxford friend,

and, in writing his thanks, he added, "I think I must bring

my little boy to see you." So I wrote to say "_don't_,"

or words to that effect: and he wrote again that he could

hardly believe his eyes when he got my note. He thought I

doted on _all_ children. But I'm _not_

omnivorous!--like a pig. I pick and choose....

You are a lucky girl, and I am rather inclined to envy you,

in having the leisure to read Dante--_I_ have never

read a page of him; yet I am sure the "Divina Commedia" is

one of the grandest books in the world--though I am

_not_ sure whether the reading of it would _raise_

one's life and give it a nobler purpose, or simply be a

grand poetical treat. That is a question you are beginning

to be able to answer: I doubt if _I_ shall ever (at

least in this life) have the opportunity of reading it; my

life seems to be all torn into little bits among the host of

things I want to do! It seems hard to settle what to do

_first. One_ piece of work, at any rate, I am clear

ought to be done this year, and it will take months of hard

work: I mean the second volume of "Sylvie and Bruno." I

fully _mean_, if I have life and health till Xmas next,

to bring it out then. When one is close on sixty years old,

it seems presumptuous to count on years and years of work

yet to be done....

She is rather the exception among the hundred or so of

child-friends who have brightened my life. Usually the child

becomes so entirely a different being as she grows into a

woman, that our friendship has to change too: and

_that_ it usually does by gliding down from a loving

intimacy into an acquaintance that merely consists of a

smile and a bow when we meet!...

_January_ 1, 1895.

... You are quite correct in saying it is a long time since

you have heard from me: in fact, I find that I have not

written to you since the 13th of last November. But what of

that? You have access to the daily papers. Surely you can

find out negatively, that I am all right! Go carefully

through the list of bankruptcies; then run your eye down the

police cases; and, if you fail to find my name anywhere, you

can say to your mother in a tone of calm satisfaction, "Mr.

Dodgson is going on _well_."

* * * * *

CHAPTER XI

(THE SAME--_continued_.)

Books for children--"The Lost Plum-Cake"--"An Unexpected

Guest"--Miss Isa Bowman--Interviews--"Matilda Jane"--Miss

Edith Rix--Miss Kathleen Eschwege.

Lewis Carroll's own position as an author did not prevent him from

taking a great interest in children's books and their writers. He had

very strong ideas on what was or was not suitable in such books, but,

when once his somewhat exacting taste was satisfied, he was never

tired of recommending a story to his friends. His cousin, Mrs. Egerton

Allen, who has herself written several charming tales for young

readers, has sent me the following letter which she received from him

some years ago:--

Dear Georgie,--_Many_ thanks. The book was at Ch. Ch.

I've done an unusual thing, in thanking for a book, namely,

_waited to read it_. I've read it _right through_!

In fact, I found it very refreshing, when jaded with my own

work at "Sylvie and Bruno" (coming out at Xmas, I hope) to

lie down on the sofa and read a chapter of "Evie." I like it

very much: and am so glad to have helped to bring it out. It

would have been a real loss to the children of England, if

you had burned the MS., as you once thought of doing....

[Illustration: Xie Kitchin as a Chinaman. _From a

photograph by Lewis Carroll_.]

The very last words of his that appeared in print took the form of a

preface to one of Mrs. Allen's tales, "The Lost Plum-Cake," (Macmillan

& Co., 1898). So far as I know, this was the only occasion on which he

wrote a preface for another author's book, and his remarks are doubly

interesting as being his last service to the children whom he loved.

No apology, then, is needed for quoting from them here:--

Let me seize this opportunity of saying one earnest word to

the mothers in whose hands this little book may chance to

come, who are in the habit of taking their children to

church with them. However well and reverently those dear

little ones have been taught to behave, there is no doubt

that so long a period of enforced quietude is a severe tax

on their patience. The hymns, perhaps, tax it least: and

what a pathetic beauty there is in the sweet fresh voices of

the children, and how earnestly they sing! I took a little

girl of six to church with me one day: they had told me she

could hardly read at all--but she made me find all the

places for her! And afterwards I said to her elder sister

"What made you say Barbara couldn't read? Why, I heard her

joining in, all through the hymn!" And the little sister

gravely replied, "She knows the _tunes_, but not the

_words_." Well, to return to my subject--children in

church. The lessons, and the prayers, are not wholly beyond

them: often they can catch little bits that come within the

range of their small minds. But the sermons! It goes to

one's heart to see, as I so often do, little darlings of

five or six years old, forced to sit still through a weary

half-hour, with nothing to do, and not one word of the

sermon that they can understand. Most heartily can I

sympathise with the little charity-girl who is said to have

written to some friend, "I think, when I grows up, I'll

never go to church no more. I think I'se getting sermons

enough to last me all my life!" But need it be so? Would it

be so _very_ irreverent to let your child have a

story-book to read during the sermon, to while away that

tedious half-hour, and to make church-going a bright and

happy memory, instead of rousing the thought, "I'll never go

to church no more"? I think not. For my part, I should love

to see the experiment tried. I am quite sure it would be a

success. My advice would be to _keep_ some books

for that special purpose. I would call such books

"Sunday-treats"--and your little boy or girl would soon

learn to look forward with eager hope to that half-hour,

once so tedious. If I were the preacher, dealing with some

subject too hard for the little ones, I should love to see

them all enjoying their picture-books. And if _this_

little book should ever come to be used as a "Sunday-treat"

for some sweet baby reader, I don't think it could serve a

better purpose.

Lewis Carroll.

Miss M.E. Manners was another writer for children whose books pleased

him. She gives an amusing account of two visits which he paid to her

house in 1889:--

_An Unexpected Guest._

"Mr. Dobson wants to see you, miss."

I was in the kitchen looking after the dinner, and did not

feel that I particularly wished to see anybody.

"He wants a vote, or he is an agent for a special kind of

tea," thought I. "I don't know him; ask him to send a

message."

Presently the maid returned--

"He says he is Mr. Dodgson, of Oxford."

"Lewis Carroll!" I exclaimed; and somebody else had to

superintend the cooking that day.

My apologies were soon made and cheerfully accepted. I

believe I was unconventional enough to tell the exact truth

concerning my occupation, and matters were soon on a

friendly footing. Indeed I may say at once that the stately

college don we have heard so much about never made his

appearance during our intercourse with him.

He did not talk "Alice," of course; authors don't generally

_talk_ their books, I imagine; but it was undoubtedly

Lewis Carroll who was present with us.

A portrait of Ellen Terry on the wall had attracted his

attention, and one of the first questions he asked was, "Do

you ever go to the theatre?" I explained that such things

were done, occasionally, even among Quakers, but they were

not considered quite orthodox.

"Oh, well, then you will not be shocked, and I may venture

to produce my photographs." And out into the hall he went,

and soon returned with a little black bag containing

character portraits of his child-friends, Isa and Nellie

Bowman.

"Isa used to be Alice until she grew too big," he said.

"Nellie was one of the oyster-fairies, and Emsie, the tiny

one of all, was the Dormouse."

"When 'Alice' was first dramatised," he said, "the poem of

the 'Walrus and the Carpenter' fell rather flat, for people

did not know when it was finished, and did not clap in the

right place; so I had to write a song for the ghosts of the

oysters to sing, which made it all right."

[Illustration: Alice and the Dormouse. _From a photograph

by Elliott & Fry_.]

He was then on his way to London, to fetch Isa to stay with

him at Eastbourne. She was evidently a great favourite, and

had visited him before. Of that earlier time he said:--

"When people ask me why I have never married, I tell them I

have never met the young lady whom I could endure for a

fortnight--but Isa and I got on so well together that I said

I should keep her a month, the length of the honeymoon, and

we didn't get tired of each other."

Nellie afterwards joined her sister "for a few days," but

the days spread to some weeks, for the poor little dormouse

developed scarlet fever, and the elder children had to be

kept out of harm's way until fear of infection was over.

Of Emsie he had a funny little story to tell. He had taken

her to the Aquarium, and they had been watching the seals

coming up dripping out of the water. With a very pitiful

look she turned to him and said, "Don't they give them any

towels?" [The same little girl commiserated the bear,

because it had got no tail.]

Asked to stay to dinner, he assured us that he never took

anything in the middle of the day but a glass of wine and a

biscuit; but he would be happy to sit down with us, which he

accordingly did and kindly volunteered to carve for us. His

offer was gladly accepted, but the appearance of a rather

diminutive piece of neck of mutton was somewhat of a puzzle

to him. He had evidently never seen such a joint in his life

before, and had frankly to confess that he did not know how

to set about carving it. Directions only made things worse,

and he bravely cut it to pieces in entirely the wrong

fashion, relating meanwhile the story of a shy young man who

had been asked to carve a fowl, the joints of which had been

carefully wired together beforehand by his too attentive

friends.

The task and the story being both finished, our visitor

gazed on the mangled remains, and remarked quaintly: "I

think it is just as well I don't want anything, for I don't

know where I should find it."

At least one member of the party felt she could have managed

matters better; but that was a point of very little

consequence.

A day or two after the first call came a note saying that he

would be taking Isa home before long, and if we would like

to see her he would stop on the way again.

Of course we were only too delighted to have the

opportunity, and, though the visit was postponed more than

once, it did take place early in August, when he brought

both Isa and Nellie up to town to see a performance of

"Sweet Lavender." It is needless to remark that we took

care, this time, to be provided with something at once

substantial and carvable.

The children were bright, healthy, happy and childlike

little maidens, quite devoted to their good friend, whom

they called "Uncle"; and very interesting it was to see them

together.

But he did not allow any undue liberties either, as a little

incident showed.

He had been describing a particular kind of collapsible

tumbler, which you put in your pocket and carried with you

for use on a railway journey.

"There now," he continued, turning to the children, "I

forgot to bring it with me after all."

"Oh Goosie," broke in Isa; "you've been talking about that

tumbler for days, and now you have forgotten it."

He pulled himself up, and looked at her steadily with an air

of grave reproof.

Much abashed, she hastily substituted a very subdued "Uncle"

for the objectionable "Goosie," and the matter dropped.

The principal anecdote on this occasion was about a dog

which had been sent into the sea after sticks. He brought

them back very properly for some time, and then there

appeared to be a little difficulty, and he returned swimming

in a very curious manner. On closer inspection it appeared

that he had caught hold of his own tail by mistake, and was

bringing it to land in triumph.

This was told with the utmost gravity, and though we had

been requested beforehand not to mention "Lewis Carroll's"

books, the temptation was too strong. I could not help

saying to the child next me--

"That was like the Whiting, wasn't it?"

Our visitor, however, took up the remark, and seemed quite

willing to talk about it.

"When I wrote that," he said, "I believed that whiting

really did have their tails in their mouths, but I have

since been told that fishmongers put the tail through the

eye, not in the mouth at all."

He was not a very good carver, for Miss Bremer also describes a little

difficulty he had--this time with the pastry: "An amusing incident

occurred when he was at lunch with us. He was requested to serve some

pastry, and, using a knife, as it was evidently rather hard, the knife

penetrated the d'oyley beneath--and his consternation was extreme when

he saw the slice of linen and lace he served as an addition to the

tart!"

It was, I think, through her connection with the "Alice" play that Mr.

Dodgson first came to know Miss Isa Bowman. Her childish friendship

for him was one of the joys of his later years, and one of the last

letters he wrote was addressed to her. The poem at the beginning of

"Sylvie and Bruno" is an acrostic on her name--

Is all our Life, then, but a dream,

Seen faintly in the golden gleam

Athwart Times'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 the merry noontide, send

No glance to meet the silent end.

Every one has heard of Lewis Carroll's hatred of interviewers; the

following letter to Miss Manners makes one feel that in some cases, at

least, his feeling was justifiable:--

If your Manchester relatives ever go to the play, tell them

they ought to see Isa as "Cinderella"--she is evidently a

success. And she has actually been "interviewed" by one of

those dreadful newspapers reporters, and the "interview" is

published with her picture! And such rubbish he makes her

talk! She tells him that something or other was "tacitly

conceded": and that "I love to see a great actress give

expression to the wonderful ideas of the immortal master!"

(N.B.--I never let her talk like that when she is with _me_!)

Emsie recovered in time to go to America, with her mother

and Isa and Nellie: and they all enjoyed the trip much; and

Emsie has a London engagement.

Only once was an interviewer bold enough to enter Lewis Carroll's

_sanctum_. The story has been told in _The Guardian_ (January 19,

1898), but will bear repetition:--

Not long ago Mr. Dodgson happened to get into correspondence

with a man whom he had never seen, on some question of

religious difficulty, and he invited him to come to his

rooms and have a talk on the subject. When, therefore, a Mr.

X-- was announced to him one morning, he advanced to meet

him with outstretched hand and smiles of welcome. "Come in

Mr. X--, I have been expecting you." The delighted visitor

thought this a promising beginning, and immediately pulled

out a note-book and pencil, and proceeded to ask "the usual

questions." Great was Mr. Dodgson's disgust! Instead of his

expected friend, here was another man of the same name, and

one of the much-dreaded interviewers, actually sitting in

his chair! The mistake was soon explained, and the

representative of the Press was bowed out as quickly as he

had come in.

It was while Isa and one of her sisters were staying at Eastbourne

that the visit to America was mooted. Mr. Dodgson suggested that it

would be well for them to grow gradually accustomed to seafaring, and

therefore proposed to take them by steamer to Hastings. This plan was

carried out, and the weather was unspeakably bad--far worse than

anything they experienced in their subsequent trip across the

Atlantic. The two children, who were neither of them very good

sailors, experienced sensations that were the reverse of pleasant. Mr.

Dodgson did his best to console them, while he continually repeated,

"Crossing the Atlantic will be much worse than this."

However, even this terrible lesson on the horrors of the sea did not

act as a deterrent; it was as unsuccessful as the effort of the old

lady in one of his stories: "An old lady I once knew tried to check

the military ardour of a little boy by showing him a picture of a

battlefield, and describing some of its horrors. But the only answer

she got was, 'I'll be a soldier. Tell it again!'"

The Bowman children sometimes came over to visit him at Oxford, and he

used to delight in showing them over the colleges, and pointing out

the famous people whom they encountered. On one of these occasions he

was walking with Maggie, then a mere child, when they met the Bishop

of Oxford, to whom Mr. Dodgson introduced his little guest. His

lordship asked her what she thought of Oxford. "I think," said the

little actress, with quite a professional _aplomb,_ "it's the

best place in the Provinces!" At which the Bishop was much amused.

After the child had returned to town, the Bishop sent her a copy of a

little book called "Golden Dust," inscribed "From W. Oxon," which

considerably mystified her, as she knew nobody of that name!

Another little stage-friend of Lewis Carroll's was Miss Vera Beringer,

the "Little Lord Fauntleroy," whose acting delighted all theatre-goers

eight or nine years ago. Once, when she was spending a holiday in the

Isle of Man, he sent her the following lines:--

There was a young lady of station,

"I love man" was her sole exclamation;

But when men cried, "You flatter,"

She replied, "Oh! no matter,

Isle of Man is the true explanation."

Many of his friendships with children began in a railway carriage, for

he always took about with him a stock of puzzles when he travelled, to

amuse any little companions whom chance might send him. Once he was in

a carriage with a lady and her little daughter, both complete

strangers to him. The child was reading "Alice in Wonderland," and

when she put her book down, he began talking to her about it. The

mother soon joined in the conversation, of course without the least

idea who the stranger was with whom she was talking. "Isn't it sad,"

she said, "about poor Mr. Lewis Carroll? He's gone mad, you know."

"Indeed," replied Mr. Dodgson, "I had never heard that." "Oh, I assure

you it is quite true," the lady answered. "I have it on the best

authority." Before Mr. Dodgson parted with her, he obtained her leave

to send a present to the little girl, and a few days afterwards she

received a copy of "Through the Looking-Glass," inscribed with her

name, and "From the Author, in memory of a pleasant journey."

When he gave books to children, he very often wrote acrostics on their

names on the fly-leaf. One of the prettiest was inscribed in a copy of

Miss Yonge's "Little Lucy's Wonderful Globe," which he gave to Miss

Ruth Dymes:--

R ound the wondrous globe I wander wild,

U p and down-hill--Age succeeds to youth--

T oiling all in vain to find a child

H alf so loving, half so dear as Ruth.

In another book, given to her sister Margaret, he

wrote:--

M aidens, if a maid you meet

A lways free from pout and pet,

R eady smile and temper sweet,

G reet my little Margaret.

A nd if loved by all she be

R ightly, not a pampered pet,

E asily you then may see

'Tis my little Margaret.

Here are two letters to children, the one interesting as a specimen of

pure nonsense of the sort which children always like, the other as

showing his dislike of being praised. The first was written to Miss

Gertrude Atkinson, daughter of an old College friend, but otherwise

unknown to Lewis Carroll except by her photograph:--

My dear Gertrude,--So many things have happened since we met

last, really I don't know _which_ to begin talking

about! For instance, England has been conquered by William

the Conqueror. We haven't met since _that_ happened,

you know. How did you like it? Were you frightened?

And one more thing has happened: I have got your

photograph. Thank you very much for it. I like it "awfully."

Do they let you say "awfully"? or do they say, "No, my dear;

little girls mustn't say 'awfully'; they should say 'very

much indeed'"?

I wonder if you will ever get as far as Jersey? If not, how

_are_ we to meet?

Your affectionate friend,

C.L. Dodgson.

From the second letter, to Miss Florence Jackson, I take the following

extract:--

I have two reasons for sending you this fable; one is, that

in a letter you wrote me you said something about my being

"clever"; and the other is that, when you wrote again you

said it again! And _each_ time I thought, "Really, I

_must_ write and ask her _not_ to say such things;

it is not wholesome reading for me."

The fable is this. The cold, frosty, bracing air is the

treatment one gets from the world generally--such as

contempt, or blame, or neglect; all those are very

wholesome. And the hot dry air, that you breathe when you

rush to the fire, is the praise that one gets from one's

young, happy, rosy, I may even say _florid_ friends!

And that's very bad for me, and gives pride--fever, and

conceit--cough, and such-like diseases. Now I'm sure you

don't want me to be laid up with all these diseases; so

please don't praise me _any_ more!

The verses to "Matilda Jane" certainly deserve a place in this

chapter. To make their meaning clear, I must state that Lewis Carroll

wrote them for a little cousin of his, and that Matilda Jane was the

somewhat prosaic name of her doll. The poem expresses finely the

blind, unreasoning devotion which the infant mind professes for

inanimate objects:--

Matilda Jane, you never look

At any toy or picture-book;

I show you pretty things in vain,

You must be blind, Matilda Jane!

I ask you riddles, tell you tales,

But all our conversation fails;

You never answer me again,

I fear you're dumb, Matilda Jane!

Matilda, darling, when I call

You never seem to hear at all;

I shout with all my might and main,

But you're _so_ deaf, Matilda Jane!

Matilda Jane, you needn't mind,

For though you're deaf, and dumb, and blind,

There's some one loves you, it is plain,

And that is _me_, Matilda Jane!

In an earlier chapter I gave some of Mr. Dodgson's letters to Miss

Edith Rix; the two which follow, being largely about children, seem

more appropriate here:--

My dear Edith,--Would you tell your mother I was aghast at

seeing the address of her letter to me: and I would much

prefer "Rev. C.L. Dodgson, Ch. Ch., Oxford." When a letter

comes addressed "Lewis Carroll, Ch. Ch.," it either goes to

the Dead Letter Office, or it impresses on the minds of all

letter-carriers, &c., through whose hands it goes, the very

fact I least want them to know.

Please offer to your sister all the necessary apologies for

the liberty I have taken with her name. My only excuse is,

that I know no other; and how _am_ I to guess what the

full name is? It _may_ be Carlotta, or Zealot, or

Ballot, or Lotus-blossom (a very pretty name), or even

Charlotte. Never have I sent anything to a young lady of

whom I have a more shadowy idea. Name, an enigma; age,

somewhere between 1 and 19 (you've no idea how bewildering

it is, alternately picturing her as a little toddling thing

of 5, and a tall girl of 15!); disposition--well, I

_have_ a fragment of information on _that_

question--your mother says, as to my coming, "It must be

when Lottie is at home, or she would never forgive us."

Still, I _cannot_ consider the mere fact that she is of

an unforgiving disposition as a complete view of her

character. I feel sure she has some other qualities besides.

Believe me,

Yrs affectionately,

C.L. Dodgson.

My dear child,--It seems quite within the bounds of

possibility, if we go on long in this style, that our

correspondence may at last assume a really friendly tone. I

don't of course say it will actually do so--that would be

too bold a prophecy, but only that it may tend to shape

itself in that direction.

Your remark, that slippers for elephants _could_ be

made, only they would not be slippers, but boots, convinces

me that there is a branch of your family in _Ireland_.

Who are (oh dear, oh dear, I am going distracted! There's a

lady in the opposite house who simply sings _all_ day.

All her songs are wails, and their tunes, such as they have,

are much the same. She has one strong note in her voice, and

she knows it! I _think_ it's "A natural," but I haven't

much ear. And when she gets to that note, she howls!) they?

The O'Rixes, I suppose?

About your uninteresting neighbours, I sympathise with you

much; but oh, I wish I had you here, that I might teach you

_not_ to say "It is difficult to visit one's district

regularly, like every one else does!"

And now I come to the most interesting part of your letter--

May you treat me as a perfect friend, and write anything you

like to me, and ask my advice? Why, _of course_ you

may, my child! What else am I good for? But oh, my dear

child-friend, you cannot guess how such words sound to

_me_! That any one should look up to _me_, or

think of asking _my_ advice--well, it makes one feel

humble, I think, rather than proud--humble to remember,

while others think so well of me, what I really _am_,

in myself. "Thou, that teachest another, teachest thou not

thyself?" Well, I won't talk about myself, it is not a

healthy topic. Perhaps it may be true of _any_ two

people, that, if one could see the other through and

through, love would perish. I don't know. Anyhow, I like to

_have_ the love of my child-friends, tho' I know I

don't deserve it. Please write as freely as _ever_ you

like.

I went up to town and fetched Phoebe down here on Friday in

last week; and we spent _most_ of Saturday upon the

beach--Phoebe wading and digging, and "as happy as a bird

upon the wing" (to quote the song she sang when first I saw

her). Tuesday evening brought a telegram to say she was

wanted at the theatre next morning. So, instead of going to

bed, Phoebe packed her things, and we left by the last

train, reaching her home by a quarter to 1 a.m. However,

even four days of sea-air, and a new kind of happiness, did

her good, I think. I am rather lonely now she is gone. She

is a very sweet child, and a thoughtful child, too. It was

very touching to see (we had a little Bible-reading every

day: I tried to remember that my little friend had a soul to

be cared for, as well as a body) the far-away look in her

eyes, when we talked of God and of heaven--as if her angel,

who beholds His face continually, were whispering to her.

Of course, there isn't _much_ companionship possible,

after all, between an old man's mind and a little child's,

but what there is is sweet--and wholesome, I think.

Three letters of his to a child-friend, Miss Kathleen Eschwege, now

Mrs. Round, illustrate one of those friendships which endure: the sort

of friendship that he always longed for, and so often failed to

secure:--

[Illustrations and: Facsimile of a "Looking-Glass

Letter" from Lewis Carroll to Miss Edith Ball.]

Ch. Ch., Oxford, _October_ 24, 1879.

My dear Kathleen,--I was really pleased to get your letter,

as I had quite supposed I should never see or hear of you

again. You see I knew only your Christian name--not the

ghost of a surname, or the shadow of an address--and I was

not prepared to spend my little all in advertisements--"If

the young lady, who was travelling on the G.W. Railway, &c."

--or to devote the remainder of my life to going about

repeating "Kathleen," like that young woman who came from

some foreign land to look for her lover, but only knew that

he was called "Edward" (or "Richard" was it? I dare say you

know History better than I do) and that he lived in England;

so that naturally it took her some time to find him. All I

knew was that _you_ could, if you chose, write to me

through Macmillan: but it is three months since we met, so I

was _not_ expecting it, and it was a pleasant surprise.

Well, so I hope I may now count you as one of my

child-friends. I am fond of children (except boys), and have

more child-friends than I could possibly count on my

fingers, even if I were a centipede (by the way, _have_

they fingers? I'm afraid they're only feet, but, of course,

they use them for the same purpose, and that is why no other

insects, _except centipedes_, ever succeed in doing

_Long Multiplication_), and I have several not so very

far from you--one at Beckenham, two at Balham, two at Herne

Hill, one at Peckham--so there is every chance of my being

somewhere near you _before the year_ 1979. If so, may I

call? I am _very_ sorry your neck is no better, and I

wish they would take you to Margate: Margate air will make

_any_ body well of _any_ thing.

It seems you have already got my two books about "Alice."

Have you also got "The Hunting of the Snark"? If not, I

should be very glad to send you one. The pictures (by Mr.

Holiday) are pretty: and you needn't read the verses unless

you like.

How do you pronounce your surname? "esk-weej"? or how? Is it

a German name?

If you can do "Doublets," with how many links do you turn

KATH into LEEN?

With kind remembrances to your mother, I am

Your affectionate friend,

Charles L. Dodgson

(_alias_ "Lewis Carroll").

Ch. Ch., Oxford, _January_ 20, 1892.

My dear Kathleen,--Some months ago I heard, from my cousin,

May Wilcox, that you were engaged to be married. And, ever

since, I have cherished the intention of writing to offer my

congratulations. Some might say, "Why not write _at

once?"_ To such unreasoning creatures, the obvious reply

is, "When you have bottled some peculiarly fine Port, do you

usually begin to drink it _at once?"_ Is not that a

beautiful simile? Of course, I need not remark that my

congratulations are like fine old Port--only finer, and

_older!_

Accept, my dear old friend, my _heartiest_ wishes for

happiness, of all sorts and sizes, for yourself, and for him

whom you have chosen as your other self. And may you love

one another with a love second only to your love for God--a

love that will last through bright days and dark days, in

sickness and in health, through life and through death.

A few years ago I went, in the course of about three months,

to the weddings of three of my old child-friends. But

weddings are not very exhilarating scenes for a miserable

old bachelor; and I think you'll have to excuse me from

attending _yours_.

However, I have so far concerned myself in it that I

actually _dreamed_ about it a few nights ago! I dreamed

that you had had a photograph done of the wedding-party, and

had sent me a copy of it. At one side stood a group of

ladies, among whom I made out the faces of Dolly and Ninty;

and in the foreground, seated in a boat, were two people, a

gentleman and a lady I _think_ (could they have been

the bridegroom and the bride?) engaged in the natural and

usual occupation for a riverside picnic--pulling a Christmas

cracker! I have no idea what put such an idea into my head.

_I_ never saw crackers used in such a scene!

I hope your mother goes on well. With kindest regards to her

and your father, and love to your sisters--and to yourself

too, if HE doesn't object!--I am,

Yours affectionately,

C.L. Dodgson.

P.S.--I never give wedding-presents; so please regard the

enclosed as an _unwedding_ present.

Ch. Ch., Oxford, _December_ 8, 1897.

My dear Kathleen,--Many thanks for the photo of yourself and

your _fiancé_, which duly reached me January 23, 1892.

Also for a wedding-card, which reached me August 28, 1892.

Neither of these favours, I fear, was ever acknowledged. Our

only communication since, has been, that on December 13,

1892, I sent you a biscuit-box adorned with "Looking-Glass"

pictures. This _you_ never acknowledged; so I was

properly served for my negligence. I hope your little

daughter, of whose arrival Mrs. Eschwege told me in

December, 1893, has been behaving well? How quickly the

years slip by! It seems only yesterday that I met, on the

railway, a little girl who was taking a sketch of Oxford!

Your affectionate old friend,

C.L. Dodgson.

The following verses were inscribed in a copy of "Alice's Adventures,"

presented to the three Miss Drurys in August, 1869:--

_To three puzzled little girls, from the Author._

Three little maidens weary of the rail,

Three pairs of little ears listening to a tale,

Three little hands held out in readiness,

For three little puzzles very hard to guess.

Three pairs of little eyes, open wonder-wide,

At three little scissors lying side by side.

Three little mouths that thanked an unknown Friend,

For one little book, he undertook to send.

Though whether they'll remember a friend, or book, or day--

In three little weeks is very hard to say.

He took the same three children to German Reed's entertainment, where

the triple bill consisted of "Happy Arcadia," "All Abroad," and "Very

Catching." A few days afterwards he sent them "Phantasmagoria," with a

little poem on the fly-leaf to remind them of their treat:--

Three little maids, one winter day,

While others went to feed,

To sing, to laugh, to dance, to play,

More wisely went to--Reed.

Others, when lesson-time's begun,

Go, half inclined to cry,

Some in a walk, some in a run;

But _these_ went in a--Fly.

I give to other little maids

A smile, a kiss, a look,

Presents whose memory quickly fades,

I give to these--a Book.

_Happy Arcadia _may blind,

While _all abroad,_ their eyes;

At home, this book (I trust) they'll find

A _very catching_ prize.

The next three letters were addressed to two of Mr. Arthur Hughes'

children. They are good examples of the wild and delightful nonsense

with which Lewis Carroll used to amuse his little friends:--

My dear Agnes,--You lazy thing! What? I'm to divide the

kisses myself, am I? Indeed I won't take the trouble to do

anything of the sort! But I'll tell _you_ how to do it.

First, you must take _four_ of the kisses, and--and

that reminds me of a very curious thing that happened to me

at half-past four yesterday. Three visitors came knocking at

my door, begging me to let them in. And when I opened the

door, who do you think they were? You'll never guess. Why,

they were three cats! Wasn't it curious? However, they all

looked so cross and disagreeable that I took up the first

thing I could lay my hand on (which happened to be the

rolling-pin) and knocked them all down as flat as pan-cakes!

"If _you_ come knocking at _my_ door," I said,

"_I_ shall come knocking at _your_ heads." "That

was fair, wasn't it?"

Yours affectionately,

Lewis Carroll.

My dear Agnes,--About the cats, you know. Of course I didn't

leave them lying flat on the ground like dried flowers: no,

I picked them up, and I was as kind as I could be to them. I

lent them the portfolio for a bed--they wouldn't have been

comfortable in a real bed, you know: they were too thin--but

they were _quite_ happy between the sheets of

blotting-paper--and each of them had a pen-wiper for a

pillow. Well, then I went to bed: but first I lent them the

three dinner-bells, to ring if they wanted anything in the

night.

You know I have _three_ dinner-bells--the first (which

is the largest) is rung when dinner is _nearly_ ready;

the second (which is rather larger) is rung when it is quite

ready; and the third (which is as large as the other two put

together) is rung all the time I am at dinner. Well, I told

them they might ring if they happened to want anything--and,

as they rang _all_ the bells _all_ night, I

suppose they did want something or other, only I was too

sleepy to attend to them.

In the morning I gave them some rat-tail jelly and buttered

mice for breakfast, and they were as discontented as they

could be. They wanted some boiled pelican, but of course I

knew it wouldn't be good _for_ them. So all I said was

"Go to Number Two, Finborough Road, and ask for Agnes

Hughes, and if it's _really_ good for you, she'll give

you some." Then I shook hands with them all, and wished them

all goodbye, and drove them up the chimney. They seemed very

sorry to go, and they took the bells and the portfolio with

them. I didn't find this out till after they had gone, and

then I was sorry too, and wished for them back again. What

do I mean by "them"? Never mind.

How are Arthur, and Amy, and Emily? Do they still go up and

down Finborough Road, and teach the cats to be kind to mice?

I'm _very_ fond of all the cats in Finborough Road.

Give them my love.

Who do I mean by "them"?

Never mind.

Your affectionate friend,

Lewis Carroll.

[Illustration: Arthur Hughes and his daughter Agnes. _From

a photograph by Lewis Carroll._]

My dear Amy,--How are you getting on, I wonder, with

guessing those puzzles from "Wonderland"? If you think

you've found out any of the answers, you may send them to

me; and if they're wrong, I won't tell you they're right!

You asked me after those three cats. Ah! The dear creatures!

Do you know, ever since that night they first came, they

have _never left me?_ Isn't it kind of them? Tell Agnes

this. She will be interested to hear it. And they _are_

so kind and thoughtful! Do you know, when I had gone out for

a walk the other day, they got _all_ my books out of

the bookcase, and opened them on the floor, to be ready for

me to read. They opened them all at page 50, because they

thought that would be a nice useful page to begin at. It was

rather unfortunate, though: because they took my bottle of

gum, and tried to gum pictures upon the ceiling (which they

thought would please me), and by accident they spilt a

quantity of it all over the books. So when they were shut up

and put by, the leaves all stuck together, and I can never

read page 50 again in any of them!

However, they meant it very kindly, so I wasn't angry. I

gave them each a spoonful of ink as a treat; but they were

ungrateful for that, and made dreadful faces. But, of

course, as it was given them as a treat, they had to drink

it. One of them has turned black since: it was a white cat

to begin with.

Give my love to any children you happen to meet. Also I send

two kisses and a half, for you to divide with Agnes, Emily,

and Godfrey. Mind you divide them fairly.

Yours affectionately,

C.L. Dodgson.

The intelligent reader will make a discovery about the first of the

two following letters, which Miss Maggie Cunningham, the

"child-friend" to whom both were addressed, perhaps did not hit upon

at once. Mr. Dodgson wrote these two letters in 1868:--

Dear Maggie,--I found that _the friend, _that the

little girl asked me to write to, lived at Ripon, and not at

Land's End--a nice sort of place to invite to! It looked

rather suspicious to me--and soon after, by dint of

incessant inquiries, I found out that _she_ was called

Maggie, and lived in a Crescent! Of course I declared,

"After that" (the language I used doesn't matter), "I will

_not_ address her, that's flat! So do not expect me to

flatter."

Well, I hope you will soon see your beloved Pa come

back--for consider, should you be quite content with only

Jack? Just suppose they made a blunder! (Such things happen

now and then.) Really, now, I shouldn't wonder if your

"John" came home again, and your father stayed at school! A

most awkward thing, no doubt. How would you receive him?

You'll say, perhaps, "you'd turn him out." That would answer

well, so far as concerns the boy, you know--but consider

your Papa, learning lessons in a row of great inky

schoolboys! This (though unlikely) might occur: "Haly" would

be grieved to miss him (don't mention it to _her_).

No _carte_ has yet been done of me, that does real

justice to my _smile_; and so I hardly like, you see,

to send you one. However, I'll consider if I will or

not--meanwhile, I send a little thing to give you an idea of

what I look like when I'm lecturing. The merest sketch, you

will allow--yet still I think there's something grand in the

expression of the brow and in the action of the hand.

Have you read my fairy tale in _Aunt Judy's Magazine?_

If you have you will not fail to discover what I mean when I

say "Bruno yesterday came to remind me that _he_ was my

god-son!"--on the ground that I "gave him a name"!

Your affectionate friend,

C.L. Dodgson.

P.S.--I would send, if I were not too shy, the same message

to "Haly" that she (though I do not deserve it, not I!) has

sent through her sister to me. My best love to yourself--to

your Mother my kindest regards--to your small, fat,

impertinent, ignorant brother my hatred. I think that is

all.

[Illustration: What I look like when I'm Lecturing. _From a

drawing, by Lewis Carroll._]

My dear Maggie,--I am a very bad correspondent, I fear, but

I hope you won't leave off writing to me on that account. I

got the little book safe, and will do my best about putting

my name in, if I can only manage to remember what day my

birthday is--but one forgets these things so easily.

Somebody told me (a little bird, I suppose) that you had

been having better photographs done of yourselves. If so, I

hope you will let me buy copies. Fanny will pay you for

them. But, oh Maggie, how _can_ you ask for a better

one of me than the one I sent! It is one of the best ever

done! Such grace, such dignity, such benevolence, such--as a

great secret (please don't repeat it) the _Queen_ sent

to ask for a copy of it, but as it is against my rule to

give in such a case, I was obliged to answer--

"Mr. Dodgson presents his compliments to her Majesty, and

regrets to say that his rule is never to give his photograph

except to _young_ ladies." I am told she was annoyed

about it, and said, "I'm not so old as all that comes to!"

and one doesn't like to annoy Queens; but really I couldn't

help it, you know.

I will conclude this chapter with some reminiscences of Lewis Carroll,

which have been kindly sent me by an old child-friend of his, Mrs.

Maitland, daughter of the late Rev. E.A. Litton, Rector of Naunton,

and formerly Fellow of Oriel College and Vice-Principal of Saint

Edmund's Hall:--

To my mind Oxford will be never quite the same again now

that so many of the dear old friends of one's childhood have

"gone over to the great majority."

Often, in the twilight, when the flickering firelight danced

on the old wainscotted wall, have we--father and I--chatted

over the old Oxford days and friends, and the merry times we

all had together in Long Wall Street. I was a nervous, thin,

remarkably ugly child then, and for some years I was left

almost entirely to the care of Mary Pearson, my own

particular attendant. I first remember Mr. Dodgson when I

was about seven years old, and from that time until we went

to live in Gloucestershire he was one of my most delightful

friends.

I shall never forget how Mr. Dodgson and I sat once under a

dear old tree in the Botanical Gardens, and how he told me,

for the first time, Hans Andersen's story of the "Ugly

Duckling." I cannot explain the charm of Mr. Dodgson's way

of telling stories; as he spoke, the characters seemed to be

real flesh and blood. This particular story made a great

impression upon me, and interested me greatly, as I was very

sensitive about my ugly little self. I remember his

impressing upon me that it was better to be good and

truthful and to try not to think of oneself than to be a

pretty, selfish child, spoiled and disagreeable; and, after

telling me this story, he gave me the name of "Ducky."

"Never mind, little Ducky," he used often to say, "perhaps

some day you will turn out a swan."

I always attribute my love for animals to the teaching of

Mr. Dodgson: his stories about them, his knowledge of their

lives and histories, his enthusiasm about birds and

butterflies enlivened many a dull hour. The monkeys in the

Botanical Gardens were our special pets, and when we fed

them with nuts and biscuits he seemed to enjoy the fun as

much as I did.

Every day my nurse and I used to take a walk in Christ

Church Meadows, and often we would sit down on the soft

grass, with the dear old Broad Walk quite close, and, when

we raised our eyes, Merton College, with its walls covered

with Virginian creeper. And how delighted we used to be to

see the well-known figure in cap and gown coming, so

swiftly, with his kind smile ready to welcome the "Ugly

Duckling." I knew, as he sat beside me, that a book of fairy

tales was hidden in his pocket, or that he would have some

new game or puzzle to show me--and he would gravely accept a

tiny daisy-bouquet for his coat with as much courtesy as if

it had been the finest hot-house _boutonnière_.

Two or three times I went fishing with him from the bank

near the Old Mill, opposite Addison's Walk, and he quite

entered into my happiness when a small fish came wriggling

up at the end of my bent pin, just ready for the dinner of

the little white kitten "Lily," which he had given me.

My hair was a great trouble to me, as a child, for it would

tangle, and Mary was not too patient with me, as I twisted

about while she was trying to dress it. One day I received a

long blue envelope addressed to myself, which contained a

story-letter, full of drawings, from Mr. Dodgson. The first

picture was of a little girl--with her hat off and her

tumbled hair very much in evidence--asleep on a rustic bench

under a big tree by the riverside, and two birds, holding

what was evidently a very important conversation, above in

the branches, their heads on one side, eyeing the sleeping

child. Then there was a picture of the birds flying up to

the child with twigs and straw in their beaks, preparing to

build their nest in her hair. Next came the awakening, with

the nest completed, and the mother-bird sitting on it; while

the father-bird flew round the frightened child. And then,

lastly, hundreds of birds--the air thick with them--the

child fleeing, small boys with tin trumpets raised to their

lips to add to the confusion, and Mary, armed with a basket

of brushes and combs, bringing up the rear! After this,

whenever I was restive while my hair was being arranged,

Mary would show me the picture of the child with the nest on

her head, and I at once became "as quiet as a lamb."

I had a daily governess, a dear old soul, who used to come

every morning to teach me. I disliked particularly the

large-lettered copies which she used to set me; and as I

confided this to Mr. Dodgson, he came and gave me some

copies himself. The only ones which I can remember were

"Patience and water-gruel cure gout" (I always wondered what

"gout" might be) and "Little girls should be seen and not

heard" (which I thought unkind). These were written many

times over, and I had to present the pages to him, without

one blot or smudge, at the end of the week.

One of the Fellows of Magdalen College at that time was a

Mr. Saul, a friend of my father's and of Mr. Dodgson, and a

great lover of music--his rooms were full of musical

instruments of every sort. Mr. Dodgson and father and I all

went one afternoon to pay him a visit. At that time he was

much interested in the big drum, and we found him when we

arrived in full practice, with his music-book open before

him. He made us all join in the concert. Father undertook

the 'cello, and Mr. Dodgson hunted up a comb and some paper,

and, amidst much fun and laughter, the walls echoed with the

finished roll, or shake, of the big drum--a roll that was

Mr. Saul's delight.

My father died on August 27, 1897, and Mr. Dodgson on

January 14, 1898. And we, who are left behind in this cold,

weary world can only hope we may some day meet them again.

Till then, oh! Father, and my dear old childhood's friend,

_requiescalis in pace!_

* * * * *

BIBLIOGRAPHY

"NOTES ON THE FIRST TWO BOOKS OF EUCLID." 1860

Oxford: Parker. 8vo. 6d

"PHOTOGRAPHS." (?)1860

(Printed for private circulation; a

list of negatives taken by the Rev. C. L.

Dodgson.) Pp. 4, 4to

"A SYLLABUS OF PLANE ALGEBRAICAL GEOMETRY," 1860

systematically arranged, with formal definitions,

postulates, and axioms. By Charles Lutwidge

Dodgson. Part I. Containing Points, Right Lines,

Rectilinear Figures, Pencils and Circles.

Oxford: Parker. Pp. xvi + 164, 8vo. Cloth, paper label. 5s

"RULES FOR COURT CIRCULAR." 1860

(A new game, invented by the Rev. C.L. Dodgson.)

Pp. 4. (Reprinted in 1862).

"THE FORMULÆ OF PLANE TRIGONOMETRY," 1861

printed with symbols (instead of words) to express the

"goniometrical ratios." By Charles Lutwidge Dodgson.

Oxford: Parker. Pp. 19, 4to. Stitched, 1s.

"NOTES ON THE FIRST PART OF ALGEBRA." 1861

Oxford: Parker. 8vo. 6d

"INDEX TO 'IN MEMORIAM.'" 1862

[Suggested and edited by the Rev. C.L. Dodgson;

much of the actual work of compilation was

done by his sisters]

London: Moxon.

"THE ENUNCIATIONS OF EUCLID, Books I. and II." 1863

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"GENERAL LIST OF (MATHEMATICAL) SUBJECTS, AND 1863

CYCLE FOR WORKING EXAMPLES."

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"CROQUÊT CASTLES." 1863

(A new game invented by the Rev. C.L. Dodgson).

London(?) Pp. 4. (Reprinted, with additions

and alterations, in 1866 at Oxford.)

"THE NEW EXAMINATION STATUTE." 1864

(A letter to the Vice-Chancellor.)

Pp. 2, 4 to. Oxford.

"A GUIDE TO THE MATHEMATICAL STUDENT IN READING, 1864

REVIEWING, AND WORKING EXAMPLES." By Charles

Lutwidge Dodgson. Part I. Pure Mathematics.

Oxford: Parker. Two leaves and pp. 27, 8vo.

Stitched, 1s.

"THE DYNAMICS OF A PARTI-CLE, with an Excursus on 1865

the New Method of Evaluation as applied to pi."

Oxford: Vincent. Pp. 28, 8vo. (Three editions).

"ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND." By Lewis 1865

Carroll, with forty-two illustrations by John

Tenniel. London: Macmillan. Pp. 192, cr. 8vo.

Cloth, gilt edges. 6s.

The 1st edition (recalled) was printed in Oxford,

and is very rare; all subsequent editions (1865

onwards) by Richard Clay in London. Now in its

86th thousand. [People's Edition, price 2s. 6d.;

first published in 1887. Now in its 70th

thousand.]

"CONDENSATION OF DETERMINANTS," being a new and 1866

brief method for computing their arithmetical

values. By the Rev. C.L. Dodgson. From "The

Proceedings of the Royal Society, No. 84, 1866."

London: Taylor and Francis. Pp. 8, 8vo.

"AN ELEMENTARY TREATISE ON DETERMINANTS." 1867

London: Macmillan. (Printed in Oxford.)

Pp. viii + 143, 4to. Cloth. 10s. 6d.

"THE FIFTH BOOK OF EUCLID TREATED ALGEBRAICALLY, 1868

SO FAR AS IT RELATES TO COMMENSURABLE MAGNITUDES."

With notes. By Charles L. Dodgson. Oxford and

London: Parker. Two leaves and pp. 37, 8vo. In

wrapper, 1s. 6d.

"ALGEBRAICAL FORMULÆ FOR RESPONSIONS." 1868

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"THE TELEGRAPH CIPHER." (?)1868

(Invented, in 1868, by the Rev. C.L. Dodgson.)

"PHANTASMAGORIA AND OTHER POEMS." 1869

By Lewis Carroll.

London: Macmillan. (Printed in Oxford.)

Pp. viii + 202, small 8vo. Cloth, gilt edges.

"AVENTURES D'ALICE AU PAYS DE MERVEILLES." 1869

Par Lewis Carroll, ouvrage illustré de 42 vignettes

par John Tenniel. Traduit de l'anglais, par H. Bué.

London: Macmillan. Pp. 196, cr. 8vo. Cloth, gilt

edges. 6s. (Now in its 2nd thousand.)

"ALICE'S ABENTEUER IM WUNDERLAND." Von Lewis 1869

Carroll, mit zweiundvierzig Illustrationen von

John Tenniel. Uebersetzt von Antonie Zimmermann.

London: Macmillan. Pp. 178, cr. 8vo. Cloth, gilt

edges. 6s.

"GAZETTE EXTRAORDINARY." 1870

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"ALGEBRAICAL FORMULÆ AND RULES." 1870

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"ARITHMETICAL FORMULÆ AND RULES." 1870

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"TO ALL CHILD READERS OF 'ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN 1871

WONDERLAND.'" Pp. 4

"THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS AND WHAT ALICE FOUND 1871

THERE." By Lewis Carroll. With fifty illustrations

by John Tenniel.

London: Macmillan. Pp. 224., cr. 8vo. Cloth,

gilt edges. 6s. Now in its 61st thousand

[People's edition. Price 2s. 6d. First

published in 1887. Now in its 46th thousand.]

"LE AVVENTURE D'ALICE NEL PAESE DELLA MERAVIGLIE." 1872

Per Lewis Carroll. Tradotte dall'inglese da T.

Pietrocòla-Rossetti. Con 42 vignette di Giovanni

Tenniel.

London: Macmillan. Pp. 189, cr. 8vo.

Cloth, gilt edges. 6s.

CIRCULAR TO HOSPITALS OFFERING COPIES OF THE TWO 1872

"ALICE" BOOKS.

London: Macmillan.

"SYMBOLS, &c., TO BE USED IN EUCLID, 1872

Books I. and II."

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"NUMBER OF PROPOSITIONS IN EUCLID." Oxford: 1872

Printed at the University Press.

"THE NEW BELFRY OF CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD." A 1872

Monograph. By D.C.L.

Oxford: Parker. Pp. 2 + 31, cr. 8vo.

In wrapper. 6d. (Five editions.)

"ENUNCIATIONS, EUCLID, I.-VI." 1873

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"OBJECTIONS, SUBMITTED TO THE GOVERNING BODY of 1873

Christ Church, Oxford, against certain proposed

alterations in the Great Quadrangle."

Oxford: Printed at the University Press. Pp. 4, 4to.

[Printed for Private Circulation.]

"THE VISION OF THE THREE T's." A Threnody. By the 1873

Author of "The New Belfry."

Oxford. Parker. Pp. 37 + 3, 8vo. In wrapper, 9d.

(Three editions.)

"A DISCUSSION OF THE VARIOUS MODES OF PROCEDURE IN 1873

CONDUCTING ELECTIONS."

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"EUCLID, BOOK V. PROVED ALGEBRAICALLY," so far as 1874

it relates to Commensurable Magnitudes. To which

is prefixed a summary of all the necessary

algebraical operations, arranged in order of

difficulty. By Charles L. Dodgson.

Oxford: Parker.

Pp. viii + 62, 8vo. Cloth. 3s. 6d.

"SUGGESTIONS AS TO THE BEST METHOD OF TAKING VOTES, 1874

where more than two Issues are to be voted on."

Oxford: Hall and Stacy. Pp. 8, 8vo.

"THE BLANK CHEQUE." A Fable. By the Author of "The 1874

New Belfry," and "The Vision of The Three T's"

Oxford: Parker. Pp. 14 + 2, cr. 8vo. In wrapper. 4d.

"PRELIMINARY ALGEBRA, AND EUCLID Book V." 1874

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"THE DYNAMICS OF A PARTI-CLE." 1874

Oxford: Parker. Pp. 24, cr. 8vo. In wrapper. 6d.

"THE NEW METHOD OF EVALUATION AS APPLIED TO pi." 1874

Oxford: Parker. Pp. 16, cr. 8vo. In wrapper. 4d.

"FACTS, FIGURES, AND FANCIES," relating to the 1874

Elections to the Hebdomadal Council, the Offer of

the Clarendon Trustees, and the Proposal to

convert the Parks into Cricket-Grounds.

Oxford: Parker. Pp. 29 + 3, cr. 8vo. In wrapper. 8d.

"NOTES BY AN OXFORD CHIEL." 1874

Oxford: Parker. Cr. 8vo. Cloth, gilt edges.

[This book consists of the following six pamphlets

bound together--"The New Method of Evaluation,"

"The Dynamics of a Particle," "Facts, Figures, and

Fancies," "The New Belfry," "The Vision of the

Three T's," and "The Blank Cheque."]

"EXAMPLES IN ARITHMETIC." 1874

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"EUCLID, BOOKS I. and II." Edited by Charles L. 1875

Dodgson.

Oxford: Parker. Diagram, Title, Preface,

and pp. 102, cr. 8vo. Cloth.

[The book was circulated privately among

Mathematical friends for hints. "Not yet

published" was printed above title.]

"THE PROFESSORSHIP OF COMPARATIVE PHILOLOGY." 1876

(Three leaflets.)

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"A METHOD OF TAKING VOTES OF MORE THAN TWO 1876

ISSUES."

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

Pp. 20, cr. 8vo.

[A note on the title-page runs as follows: "As I

hope to investigate this subject further, and to

publish a more complete pamphlet on the subject, I

shall feel greatly obliged if you will enter in

this copy any remarks that occur to you, and

return it to me any time before--"]

LETTER AND QUESTIONS TO HOSPITALS. Oxford: 1876

Printed at the University Press.

"AN EASTER GREETING." [Reprinted in London, by 1876

Macmillan & Co., in 1880.]

"FAME'S PENNY TRUMPET." Not published. 1876

Oxford: Baxter. Pp. 4, 4to.

[Afterwards published in "Rhyme? and Reason?"]

"THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK." An Agony, in Eight 1876

Fits. By Lewis Carroll. With nine illustrations by

Henry Holiday.

London: Macmillan. Pp. xi + 83, 8vo. Cloth,

gilt edges. 4s.. 6d.

"THE RESPONSIONS OF HILARY TERM, 1877." 1877

(A letter to the Vice-Chancellor.)

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"A CHARADE." (Written with a cyclostyle.) Pp. 4. 1878

"WORD-LINKS." (A game, afterwards called 1878

"DOUBLETS," invented by the Rev. C.L. Dodgson.)

Oxford: Printed at the University Press. Pp. 4,

8vo.[There is also a form written with a

cyclostyle.]

"DOUBLETS." A Word-Puzzle. By Lewis Carroll. 1879

London: Macmillan. Pp. 73, 8vo. Cloth. 2s. (2nd

edition, 1880.)

"EUCLID AND HIS MODERN RIVALS." 1879

London: Macmillan. 8vo. Cloth. 6s.

(2nd edition, 1885. Pp. xxxi + 275.)

"DOUBLETS." A Word-Puzzle. By Lewis Carroll. 1880

Oxford: Printed at the University Press. Pp. 8.

8vo. [This Puzzle appeared in Vanity Fair, April

19, 1879.]

"LETTER FROM MABEL TO EMILY." To illustrate common 1880

errors in letter-writing. (Written with a

cyclostyle.)

"LIZE'S AVONTUREN IN HET WONDERLAND." (?)1881

Naar het Engelsch. [A Dutch version of "Alice

in Wonderland."]

Nijmegen. 4to.

"ON CATCHING COLD." (A pamphlet, consisting of 1881

extracts from two books by Dr. Inman.)

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"JABBERWOCKY." (Lewis Carroll's Poem, with A.A. 1881

Vansittart's Latin rendering.)

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

NOTICE RE CONCORDANCE TO "IN MEMORIAM." 1881

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"LANRICK." A Game for Two Players. 1881

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

A CIRCULAR ABOUT THE "SCHOOL OF DRAMATIC ART." 1882

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"AN ANALYSIS OF THE RESPONSIONS-LISTS FROM 1882

MICHAELMAS, 1873, to Michaelmas, 1881."

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

CIRCULAR ASKING FOR SUGGESTIONS FOR A GIRLS' 1882

EDITION OF SHAKESPEARE.

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

[Two different forms, one pp. 2, the other pp. 4.]

"EUCLID, BOOKS I. and II." 1882

London: Macmillan. Printed in Oxford.

Pp. xi + 108. 8vo. Cloth. 2s.

[Seven editions were subsequently published.]

"DREAMLAND." A Song. Words by Lewis Carroll; music 1882

by Rev. C. E. Hutchinson.

Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

"MISCHMASCH." (A game invented by the Rev. C. L. 1882

Dodgson.) Oxford: Printed at the University Press.

Two editions.

"RHYME? AND REASON?" By Lewis Carroll. With 1883

sixty-five illustrations by Arthur B. Frost, and

nine by Henry Holiday.

London: Macmillan. Pp. xii + 214, cr. 8vo.

Cloth, 7s. (Now in its 6th thousand.)

[This book is a reprint, with a few additions, of

"The Hunting of the Snark," and of the comic

portions of "Phantasmagoria and Other Poems."]

"LAWN TENNIS TOURNAMENTS: THE TRUE METHOD OF 1883

ASSIGNING PRIZES, with a Proof of the Fallacy of

the Present Method."

London: Macmillan. Printed in Oxford. 8vo.

"RULES FOR RECKONING POSTAGE." 1883

Oxford: Baxter.

"TWELVE MONTHS IN A CURATORSHIP." 1884

By One who has tried it.

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter.

Pp. 52, 8vo

SUPPLEMENT TO DITTO. 1884

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 8, 8vo

POSTSCRIPT TO DITTO. 1884

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 2, 8vo.

"CHRISTMAS GREETINGS." 1884

London: Macmillan.

"THE PROFITS OF AUTHORSHIP." By Lewis Carroll. 1884

London: Macmillan. 8vo. 6d.

"THE PRINCIPLES OF PARLIAMENTARY REPRESENTATION." 1884

London: Harrison. Pp. 56, 8vo. (Reprinted in

1885.)

SUPPLEMENT TO DITTO. 1885

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 8, 8vo.

Two editions.

POSTSCRIPT TO SUPPLEMENT TO DITTO. 1885

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 4, 8vo.

Two editions.

SUPPLEMENT TO FIRST EDITION OF "EUCLID AND HIS 1885

MODERN RIVALS." London: Macmillan. 8vo. 1s

"A TANGLED TALE." By Lewis Carroll. With six 1885

illustrations by Arthur B. Frost. London:

Macmillan. Printed in Oxford. Pp. 152, cr. 8vo.

Cloth, gilt edges. 4s. 6d. (Now in its 4th

thousand.)

[First appeared in Monthly Packet, April,

1882-November, 1884. There are also separate

reprints of each "Knot," and of the Answers to

"Knots" I. and II.]

"PROPOSED PROCURATORIAL CYCLE." 1885

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 4, 4to.

"THE PROCURATORIAL CYCLE. FURTHER REMARKS." 1885

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 3, 4to.

"SUGGESTIONS AS TO THE ELECTION OF PROCTORS." 1885

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 4, 4to.

(Reprinted, with additions, in 1886)

"ALICE'S ADVENTURES UNDER GROUND." By Lewis 1886

Carroll. With thirty-seven illustrations by the

author.

London: Macmillan. Pp. viii + 95, cr. 8vo. Cloth,

gilt edges. 4s. (Now in its 4th thousand.)

[This book is a facsimile of the original

Manuscript story, afterwards developed into "Alice

in Wonderland."]

"THREE YEARS IN A CURATORSHIP." 1886

By one whom it has tried.

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 32, cr. 8vo.

"REMARKS ON THE REPORT OF THE FINANCE COMMITTEE." 1886

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 8, cr. 8vo.

"REMARKS ON MR. SAMPSON'S PROPOSAL." 1886

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 4, cr. 8vo.

"OBSERVATIONS ON MR. SAMPSON'S PROPOSAL." 1889

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 12, 8vo.

"FIRST PAPER ON LOGIC." 1886

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 2, 8vo.

"FOURTH PAPER ON LOGIC." 1886

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 3, 8vo.

"FIFTH PAPER ON LOGIC." 1887

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 4, 8vo.

"SIXTH PAPER ON LOGIC." 1887

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 4, 8vo.

"QUESTIONS IN LOGIC." 1887

Oxford: Printed by E. Baxter. Pp. 4, fcap. fol.

"ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND; AND THROUGH THE 1887

LOOKING-GLASS." People's editions, 1 vol.

London: Macmillan. Cr. 8vo. Cloth. 4s. 6d.

"THE GAME OF LOGIC." By Lewis Carroll. 1887

London: Macmillan. Pp. 96, cr. 8vo. Cloth. 3s.

"CURIOSA MATHEMATICA, Part I. A New Theory of 1888

Parallels." By C. L. Dodgson.

London: Macmillan. Pp. 75. 8vo. Cloth. 2s.

(Reprinted in 1889, 1890, and 1895.)

"MEMORIA TECHNICA." [Written with a cyclostyle.] 1888

Pp. 4

"CIRCULAR BILLIARDS FOR TWO PLAYERS." Invented, in (?)1889

1889, by Lewis Carroll. Two editions

"SYLVIE AND BRUNO." By Lewis Carroll. With 1889

forty-six illustrations by Harry Furniss.

London: Macmillan. Pp. xxiii + 400, cr. 8vo.

Cloth, gilt edges. (Now in its 13th thousand.)

[The picture on p. 77 was drawn by Miss Alice Havers.]

"THE NURSERY 'ALICE.'" Containing twenty coloured 1890

enlargements from Tenniel's illustrations to

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." With text

adapted to nursery readers by Lewis Carroll. The

cover designed and coloured by E. Gertrude

Thomson. London: Macmillan. Pp. 56, 4to. Boards.

4s. (Now in its 11th thousand.)

"EIGHT OR NINE WISE WORDS ABOUT LETTER-WRITING." 1890

By Lewis Carroll. Oxford: Emberlin and Son. (Now

in its 5th edition.) [This pamphlet is sold with

the "Wonderland" Postage-Stamp Case, published by

Messrs. Emberlin and Son.]

"THE STRANGER CIRCULAR." (A leaflet sent by Mr. 1890

Dodgson to people who wrote to him about his

"Lewis Carroll" books, addressing the envelope to

Rev. C. L. Dodgson.)

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

CIRCULAR, asking friends to send addresses of 1890

stationers likely to sell the

"Wonderland" Postage-Stamp Case.

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

CIRCULAR SENT TO VARIOUS HOSPITALS, offering free 1890

copies of Lewis Carroll's books.

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

LIST OF INSTITUTIONS to which above was to be sent. 1890

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

CIRCULAR, ADDRESSED TO THE GOVERNING BODY OF 1891

CHRIST CHURCH, Oxford, about the proposal to

invite M.A.'s to dine at High Table.

"A POSTAL PROBLEM." June, 1891. 1891

DITTO, Supplement. 1891

A CIRCULAR ABOUT RESIGNATION OF CURATORSHIP. 1892

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

A CIRCULAR ABOUT "UNPARLIAMENTARY" WORDS 1892

used by some competitors in the "Syzygies"

competition in The Lady.

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

"CURIOSISSIMA CURATORIA." By 'Rude Donatus.' 1892

(A Pamphlet sent to all resident members of Christ

Church Common Room.)

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

"EIGHTH PAPER ON LOGIC." 1892

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

[A revised version of one page was

printed in same year.]

"NINTH PAPER ON LOGIC." 1892

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

"NOTES TO LOGIC PAPERS EIGHT AND NINE." 1892

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

"CURIOSA MATHEMATICA, Part III. PILLOW PROBLEMS," 1893

thought out during wakeful hours, by C. L.

Dodgson.

London, Macmillan: Printed in Oxford. Pp.

xvii + 109, 8vo. Cloth, 1st and 2nd editions.

(Reprinted in 1894, 1895.)

"SYZYGIES AND LANRICK." By Lewis Carroll. 1893

London: The Lady office. Pp. 26. 6d.

"SYLVIE AND BRUNO CONCLUDED." By Lewis Carroll. 1893

With forty-six illustrations by Harry Furniss.

London: Macmillan. Pp. xxi + 423, cr. 8vo. Cloth,

gilt edges. 7s.6d. (Now in its 3rd thousand.) [The

picture on p. 409 was drawn by Miss Alice Havers.]

"A DISPUTED POINT IN LOGIC." 1894

"WHAT THE TORTOISE SAID TO ACHILLES." (Reprinted 1894

from Mind, December, 1894.) Pp. 4.

"A FASCINATING MENTAL RECREATION FOR THE YOUNG." (?)1895

(A circular about Symbolic Logic, signed "Lewis

Carroll.")

"RESIDENT WOMEN-STUDENTS." 1896

(A circular, signed "Charles L Dodgson.")

Oxford: Printed by Sheppard.

"SYMBOLIC LOGIC. Part I. Elementary." By Lewis 1896

Carroll.

London: Macmillan. Pp. xxxi + 192, cr.

8vo. Cloth. 2s. (Now in its 4th edition.)

"THREE SUNSETS AND OTHER POEMS." By Lewis Carroll. 1898

With twelve Fairy-Fancies by E. Gertrude Thomson.

London: Macmillan. Pp. 68, fcap. 4to. Cloth, gilt

edges. 4s. [This book is a reprint, with

additions, of the serious portions of

"Phantasmagoria and Other Poems."]

"TO MY CHILD-FRIEND." (A poem, reprinted in "The No date

Game of Logic.") Pp. 2

"THE ALPHABET-CIPHER." No date

* * * * *

INDEX

Abdy, Miss Dora,

Albany, The Duchess of,

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,"

"Alice's Adventures Underground,"

"Alice" Operetta, The,

Alice, Princess,

"Alice, The Nursery,"

Allen, Mrs. Egerton,

Anderson, Mrs.,

Atkinson, Miss G.,

Atkinson, Rev. F. H.,

Baden-Powell, Sir George,

Bayne, Rev. T. Vere,

Bennie, Mrs.,

"Blank Cheque, The,"

Bowman, Miss Isa,

Bremer, Miss,

"Bruno's Revenge,"

Calverley, C. S.,

Chataway, Miss G.,

Chevalier, Albert,

Circle-squarers,

_College Rhymes,_

College Servants,

_Comic Times, The,_

Cook Wilson, Professor,

Croft,

Cunningham, Miss M.,

Daresbury,

"Deserted Parks, The,"

"Determinants, An Elementary Treatise On,"

Dodgson, Archdeacon,

Dodgson, Captain,

Dodgson, Mrs.,

"Dotheboys Hall,"

"Dreamland,"

Drury, Miss

Dymes, Miss

"Dynamics of a Parti-cle, The"

Egerton, Lord Francis

Elphin, The Bishop of

Elsdon

Eschwege, Miss K.

Eternal Punishment

"Euclid and His Modern Rivals"

"Euclid, Books I. and II."

"Euclid, Book V."

Exhibition, The Great

"Facts, Figures, and Fancies"

Freiligrath Kroeker, Mrs.

Frost, A.B.

Furniss, Harry

"Game of Logic, The"

Gatty, Mrs.

General Elections

Harrison, Frederic

Holiday, Henry

Hopley, Rev. H.

Hughes, Arthur

Hughes, Miss Agnes

"Hunting of the Snark, The"

Hutchinson, Rev. C.E.

_Jabberwock, The_

Jackson, Miss F.

Jelf, Canon

Jowett, Dr.

Kean, Mrs.

Kingsley, Henry

Kitchin, Miss Alexandra (Xie)

"Lays of Sorrow"

Liddell, Dr.

Liddell, Miss Alice

Liddon, Canon

"Little Minister, The"

Longley, Archbishop

Macdonald, George

Maitland, Mrs.

Manners, Miss M.E.

Maurier, George du

Mechanical "Humpty Dumpty," The

"Memoria Technica"

_Misch-Masch_

Moscow

Natural Science

"New Belfry, The"

"New Method of Evaluation, The"

"New Theory of Parallels, The"

Nijni Novgorod

"Notes by an Oxford Chiel"

Paget, Dean

Paget, Sir James

Paine, Miss Adelaide

Patmore, Coventry

Paton, Sir Noel

"Phantasmagoria"

"Pillow Problems"

Potsdam

Price, Professor

"Profits of Authorship, The"

Pusey, Dr.

_Rectory Umbrella, The_

"Rhyme? and Reason?"

Richmond

Rix, Miss Edith

Rugby

Ruskin, John

Salisbury, The Marquis of

St. Petersburg

Sanday, Professor

Simpson, Miss Gaynor

Smedley, Frank

Standen, Miss Isabel

"Sylvie and Bruno"

"Sylvie and Bruno Concluded"

"Symbolic Logic, Part I."

"Syzygies"

Tait, Archbishop

"Tangled Tale, A"

Taylor, Tom

Tenniel, Sir John

Tennyson, Alfred

Terry, Miss Ellen

Terry, Miss Kate

Thackeray, W.M.

Thomson, Miss E.G.

"Three Sunsets"

"Through the Looking-Glass"

_Train, The_

"Twelve Months in a Curatorship"

Vansittart, A.A.

"Vision of The Three T's, The"

Vivisection

Wilberforce, Bishop

"Wise Words on Letter-Writing"

"Wonderland" Stamp-Case, The

Woodhouse, Rev. G.C.

Yates, Edmund

Yonge, Miss Charlotte M.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES.

[Footnote 001: Perhaps an incorrect expression, as it was only the

second attempt.]

[Footnote 002: The science of taking medicine in infinitely small

doses.]

[Footnote 003:

_________________________

1000000000000000000000000

]

[Footnote 004: A Man's history of his own life.]

[Footnote 005: The author of "The Bandy-legged Butterfly."]

[Footnote 006: Afterwards President of the Society for the Prevention

of Cruelty to Animals.]

[Footnote 007: Or a pulling by the ear.]

[Footnote 008: This Rectory has been supposed to have been built in

the time of Edward VI., but recent discoveries clearly assign its

origin to a much earlier period. A stone has been found in an island

formed by the river Tees on which is inscribed the letter "A," which

is justly conjectured to stand for the name of the great King Alfred,

in whose reign this house was probably built.]

[Footnote 009: The poet entreats pardon for having represented a

donkey under this dignified name.]

[Footnote 010: With reference to these remarkable animals see "Moans

from the Miserable," page 12.]

[Footnote 011: A full account of the history and misfortunes of these

interesting creatures may be found in the first "Lay of Sorrow," page

36.]

[Footnote 012: It is a singular fact that a donkey makes a point of

returning any kicks offered to it.]

[Footnote 013: This valiant knight, besides having a heart of steel

and nerves of iron, has been lately in the habit of carrying a brick

in his eye.]

[Footnote 014: She was sister to both.]

[Footnote 015: The reader will probably be at a loss to discover the

nature of this triumph, as no object was gained, and the donkey was

obviously the victor; on this point, however, we are sorry to say, we

can offer no good explanation.]

[Footnote 016: Much more acceptable to a true knight than "corn-land"

which the Roman people were so foolish as to give to their daring

champion, Horatius.]

[Footnote 017: Lewis Carroll composed this poem while staying with his

cousins, the Misses Wilcox, at Whitburn, near Sunderland. To while

away an evening the whole party sat down to a game of verse-making,

and "Jabberwocky" was his contribution.]

[Footnote 018: Coesper from coena and vesper.]

[Footnote 019: Lubriciles, from lubricus and graciles. See the

commentary in "Humpty Dumpty's square," which will also explain

ultravia, and, if it requires explanation, moestenui.]

[Footnote 020: Sanguis meus: Verg. Aen. vi. 836--"Projice tela

manu, sanguis meus!"]

[Footnote 021: Egnia: "muffish"--segnis; therefore "uffish" =

egnis. This is a conjectural analogy, but I can suggest no better

solution.]

[Footnote 022: Susuffrus: "whiffling," susurrus: "whistling."]

[Footnote 023: Spicula: see the picture.]

[Footnote 024: Burbur: apparently a labial variation of murmur,

stronger but more dissonant.]

[Footnote 025: This poem is reproduced here by the kind permission of

the proprietors of Punch.]

Chestnuts, Guildford, _January_ 15, 1886.