We may differ, according to our difference of taste or temperament, in appraising Charles Dodgson’s genius; but that that great gift was his, that his best work ranks with the very best of its kind, this has been owned with a recognition too wide and spontaneous to leave room for doubt.  The brilliant, venturesome imagination, defying forecast with ever-fresh surprise; the sense of humour in its finest and most naive form; the power to touch with lightest hand the undercurrent of pathos in the midst of fun; the audacity of creative fancy, and the delicacy of insight—­these are rare gifts; and surely they were his.  Yes, but it was his simplicity of mind and heart that raised them all, not only in his work but in his life, in all his ways, in the man as we knew him, to something higher than any mere enumeration of them tells:  that almost curious simplicity, at times, that real and touching child-likeness that marked him in all fields of thought, appearing in his love of children and in their love of him, in his dread of giving pain to any living creature, in a certain disproportion, now and then, of the view he took of things—­yes, and also in that deepest life, where the pure in heart and those who become as little children see the very truth and walk in the fear and love of God.

Some extracts from the numerous sympathetic letters received by Mr. Dodgson’s brothers and sisters will show how greatly his loss was felt.  Thus Canon Jelf writes:—­

It was quite a shock to me to see in the paper to-day the death of your dear, good brother, to whom we owe so much of the brightening of our lives with pure, innocent fun.  Personally I feel his loss very much indeed.  We were together in old Ch.  Ch. days from 1852 onwards; and he was always such a loyal, faithful friend to me.  I rejoice to think of the serious talks we had together—­of the grand, brave way in which he used the opportunities he had as a man of humour, to reach the consciences of a host of readers—­of his love for children—­his simplicity of heart—­of his care for servants—­his spiritual care for them.  Who can doubt that he was fully prepared for a change however sudden—­for the one clear call which took him away from us?  Yet the world seems darker for his going; we can only get back our brightness by realising Who gave him all his talent, all his mirth of heart—­the One who never leaves us.  In deep sympathy,

    Yours very sincerely,

    George E. Jelf.

    P.S.—­When you have time tell me a little about him; he was
    so dear to me.

Mr. Frederic Harrison writes as follows:—­