ary
notice: perfectly just and true; appreciative, as it should
be, as to the unusual combination of deep mathematical
ability and taste with the genius that led to the writing of
"Alice's Adventures."

Only the other day [writes a lady friend] he wrote to me
about his admiration for my dear husband, and he ended his
letter thus: "I trust that when _my_ time comes, I may be
found, like him, working to the last, and ready for the
Master's call"--and truly so he was.

A friend at Oxford writes:--

Mr. Dodgson was ever the kindest and gentlest of friends,
bringing sunshine into the house with him. We shall mourn
his loss deeply, and my two girls are quite overcome with
grief. All day memories of countless acts of kindness shown
to me, and to people I have known, have crowded my mind, and
I feel it almost impossible to realise that he has passed
beyond the reach of our gratitude and affection.

The following are extracts from letters written by some of his
"child-friends," now grown up:--

How beautiful to think of the track of light and love he has
left behind him, and the amount of happiness he brought into
the lives of all those he came in contact with! I shall
never forget all his kindness to us, from the time he first
met us as little mites in the railway train, and one feels
glad to have had the privilege of knowing him.

One of Mr. Dodgson's oldest "child-friends" writes:--

He was to me a dear and true friend, and it has been my
great privilege to see a good deal of him ever since I was a
tiny child, and especially during the last two years. I
cannot tell you how much we shall miss him here. Ch. Ch.
without Mr. Dodgson will be a strange place, and it is
difficult to realise it even while we listen to the special
solemn anthems and hymns to his memory in our cathedral.

One who had visited him at Guildford, writes:--

It must be quite sixteen years now since he first made
friends with my sister and myself as children on the beach
at Eastbourne, and since then his friendship has been and
must always be one of my most valued possessions. It
culminated, I think, in the summer of 1892--the year when he
brought me to spend a very happy Sunday at Guildford. I had
not seen him before, that year, for some time; and it was
then, I think, that the childish delight in