nine out of ten, I think, of my child-friendships get ship-wrecked at the critical point, "where the stream and river meet," and the child friends, once so affectionate, become uninteresting acquaintances, whom I have no wish to set eyes on again.
These friendships usually began all very much in the same way. A chance meeting on the sea-shore, in the street, at some friend's house, led to conversation; then followed a call on the parents, and after that all sorts of kindnesses on Lewis Carroll's part, presents of books, invitations to stay with him at Oxford, or at Eastbourne, visits with him to the theatre. For the amusement of his little guests he kept a large assortment of musical-boxes, and an organette which had to be fed with paper tunes. On one occasion he ordered about twelve dozen of these tunes "on approval," and asked one of the other dons, who was considered a judge of music, to come in and hear them played over. In addition to these attractions there were clock-work bears, mice, and frogs, and games and puzzles in infinite variety.
One of his little friends. Miss Isabel Standen, has sent me the following account of her first meeting with him:—
