e on terra firma
His brother he did spy,
"What _did_ you do that for?" he cried,
Then unconcerned he stepped aside
And let it canter by.

They gave him bread and butter,[016]
That was of public right,
As much as four strong rabbits,
Could munch from morn to night,
For he'd done a deed of daring,
And faced that savage steed,
And therefore cups of coffee sweet,
And everything that was a treat,
Were but his right and meed.

And often in the evenings,
When the fire is blazing bright,
When books bestrew the table
And moths obscure the light,
When crying children go to bed,
A struggling, kicking load;
We'll talk of Ulfrid Longbow's deed,
How, in his brother's utmost need,
Back to his aid he flew with speed,
And how he faced the fiery steed,
And kept the New Croft Road.

[Illustration: Exterior of Christ Church]

* * * * *

CHAPTER II

(1850-1860.)

Matriculation at Christ Church--Death of Mrs. Dodgson--The
Great Exhibition--University and College Honours--A
wonderful year--A theatrical treat--_Misch-Masch--The
Train--College Rhymes_--His _nom de
plume_--"Dotheboys Hall"--Alfred
Tennyson--Ordination--Sermons--A visit to
Farringford--"Where does the day begin?"--The Queen visits
Oxford.

We have traced in the boyhood of Lewis Carroll the beginnings of those
characteristic traits which afterwards, more fully developed, gave him
so distinguished a position among his contemporaries. We now come to a
period of his life which is in some respects necessarily less
interesting. We all have to pass through that painful era of
self-consciousness which prefaces manhood, that time when we feel so
deeply, and are so utterly unable to express to others, or even to
define clearly to ourselves, what it is we do feel. The natural
freedom of childhood is dead within us; the conventional freedom of
riper years is struggling to birth, and its efforts are sometimes
ludicrous to an unsympathetic observer. In Lewis Carroll's mental
attitude during this critical period there was always a calm dignity
which saved him from these absurdities, an undercurrent of
consciousness that what seemed so great to him was really very little.

On May 23, 1850, he