JESUS _and my angel. I thought perhaps_ in the dark _they'd touch
me, but they never have yet.' I do so want them to_ want _to go
to Him, and to feel how, if He is there, it_ must _be happy._"

_Let me add--for I feel I have drifted into far too serious a vein
for a preface to a fairy-tale--the deliciously naive remark of a
very dear child-friend, whom I asked, after an acquaintance of two
or three days, if she had read 'Alice' and the 'Looking-Glass.' "Oh
yes," she replied readily, "I've read both of them! And I think"
(this more slowly and thoughtfully) "I think 'Through the
Looking-Glass' is_ more _stupid than 'Alice's Adventures.' Don't_
you _think so?" But this was a question I felt it would be hardly
discreet for me to enter upon._

_LEWIS CARROLL._

_Dec._ 1886.

* * * * *

AN EASTER GREETING

TO

EVERY CHILD WHO LOVES

"Alice."

DEAR CHILD,

_Please to fancy, if you can, that you are reading a real letter,
from a real friend whom you have seen, and whose voice you can
seem to yourself to hear wishing you, as I do now with all my
heart, a happy Easter._

_Do you know that delicious dreamy feeling when one first wakes
on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and
the fresh breeze coming in at the open window--when, lying lazily
with eyes half shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving,
or waters rippling in a golden light? It is a pleasure very near
to sadness, bringing tears to one's eyes like a beautiful picture
or poem. And is not that a Mother's gentle hand that undraws your
curtains, and a Mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise? To
rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that
frightened you so when all was dark--to rise and enjoy another
happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen Friend, who sends
you the beautiful sun_?

_Are these strange words from a writer of such tales as "Alice"?
And is this a strange letter to find in a book of nonsense? It
may be so. Some perhaps may blame me for thus mixing together
things grave and gay; others may smile and think it odd that any
one should speak of solemn things at all, except in church and on
a Sunday: but I think--nay, I am sure--that some children will
read this gently and lovingly, and in the spirit in which I have
written it._

_For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two
halves--to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it
out-