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:—­