In October it became generally known that Dean Liddell was going to resign at Christmas.  This was a great blow to Mr. Dodgson, but little mitigated by the fact that the very man whom he himself would have chosen, Dr. Paget, was appointed to fill the vacant place.  The old Dean was very popular in College; even the undergraduates, with whom he was seldom brought into contact, felt the magic of his commanding personality and the charm of his gracious, old-world manner.  He was a man whom, once seen, it was almost impossible to forget.

[Illustration:  The Dean of Christ Church. From a photograph by Hill & Saunders.]

Shortly before the resignation of Dr. Liddell, the Duchess of Albany spent a few days at the Deanery.  Mr. Dodgson was asked to meet her Royal Highness at luncheon, but was unable to go.  Princess Alice and the little Duke of Albany, however, paid him a visit, and were initiated in the art of making paper pistols.  He promised to send the Princess a copy of a book called “The Fairies,” and the children, having spent a happy half-hour in his rooms, returned to the Deanery.  This was one of the days which he “marked with a white stone.”  He sent a copy of “The Nursery ‘Alice’” to the little Princess Alice, and received a note of thanks from her, and also a letter from her mother, in which she said that the book had taught the Princess to like reading, and to do it out of lesson-time.  To the Duke he gave a copy of a book entitled “The Merry Elves.”  In his little note of thanks for this gift, the boy said, “Alice and I want you to love us both.”  Mr. Dodgson sent Princess Alice a puzzle, promising that if she found it out, he would give her a “golden chair from Wonderland.”

At the close of the year he wrote me a long letter, which I think worthy of reproducing here, for he spent a long time over it, and it contains excellent examples of his clear way of putting things.

    To S.D.  Collingwood.

    Ch.  Ch., Oxford, Dec. 29, 1891.

My Dear Stuart,—­(Rather a large note-sheet, isn’t it?  But they do differ in size, you know.) I fancy this book of science (which I have had a good while, without making any use of it), may prove of some use to you, with your boys. [I was a schoolmaster at that time.] Also this cycling-book (or whatever it is to be called) may be useful in putting down engagements, &c., besides telling you a lot about cycles.  There was no use in sending it to me; my cycling days are over.

You ask me if your last piece of “Meritt” printing is dark enough.  I think not.  I should say the rollers want fresh inking.  As to the matter of your specimen—­[it was a poor little essay on killing animals for the purpose of scientific recreations, e.g., collecting butterflies]—­I think you