In this quiet home the boy invented the strangest diversions for himself; he made pets of the most odd and unlikely animals, and numbered certain snails and toads among his intimate friends.  He tried also to encourage civilised warfare among earthworms, by supplying them with small pieces of pipe, with which they might fight if so disposed.  His notions of charity at this early age were somewhat rudimentary; he used to peel rushes with the idea that the pith would afterwards “be given to the poor,” though what possible use they could put it to he never attempted to explain.  Indeed he seems at this time to have actually lived in that charming “Wonderland” which he afterwards described so vividly; but for all that he was a thorough boy, and loved to climb the trees and to scramble about in the old marl-pits.

One of the few breaks in this very uneventful life was a holiday spent with the other members of his family in Beaumaris.  The journey took three days each way, for railroads were then almost unknown; and whatever advantages coaching may have had over travelling in trains, speed was certainly not one of them.

Mr. Dodgson from the first used to take an active part in his son’s education, and the following anecdote will show that he had at least a pupil who was anxious to learn.  One day, when Charles was a very small boy, he came up to his father and showed him a book of logarithms, with the request, “Please explain.”  Mr. Dodgson told him that he was much too young to understand anything about such a difficult subject.  The child listened to what his father said, and appeared to think it irrelevant, for he still insisted, “But, please, explain!”

[Illustration:  Mrs. Dodgson]

On one occasion Mr. and Mrs. Dodgson went to Hull, to pay a visit to the latter’s father, who had been seriously ill.  From Hull Mrs. Dodgson wrote to Charles, and he set much store by this letter, which was probably one of the first he had received.  He was afraid that some of his little sisters would mess it, or tear it up, so he wrote upon the back, “No one is to touch this note, for it belongs to C. L. D.”; but, this warning appearing insufficient, he added, “Covered with slimy pitch, so that they will wet their fingers.”  The precious letter ran as follows:—­

My dearest Charlie, I have used you rather ill in not having written to you sooner, but I know you will forgive me, as your Grandpapa has liked to have me with him so much, and I could not write and talk to him comfortably.  All your notes have delighted me, my precious children, and show me that you have not quite forgotten me.  I am always thinking of you, and longing to have you all round me again more than words can tell.  God grant that we may find you all well and happy on Friday evening.  I am happy to say your dearest Papa is quite well—­his cough is rather tickling, but is of no consequence.  It delights me, my darling Charlie,