ling 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 _boutonniere_.

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