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Updated: April 30, 2025
Dodgson and her assistant, aided perhaps by the desire to stand well in the eyes of lads of the place, their boisterous habits had been toned down, dark neatly made dresses took the place of bright-coloured and flimsy ones; hair, faces, and hands showed more care and self-respect. The example of the young people had not been without its influence upon the elders.
Later, when dinner was finished, Carnacki snugged himself comfortably down in his big chair, along with his pipe, and began his story, with very little circumlocution: "As Dodgson was remarking just now, I've only been away a short time, and for a very good reason too I've only been away a short distance.
These once formed the walls of a church which Mr. Dodgson induced the men to start building, but they took such a long time over it, he felt it would never be finished, and so told them they could use the stones as a wall for the cemetery. Here and there are little wooden crosses, and such quaintly written inscriptions, the letters being picked out in tin nailed to the cross or stone.
"Indeed! Nelly," Mrs. Dodgson said, surprised; "I should have thought that was the last thing that you would like." "It is not what I like," Nelly said quietly, "but what is best.
There are one or two hymns in which the islanders go quite astray; for example, "There is a green hill" and "Christ who once amongst us." They have gone wrong, I fear, so many years that the task of getting them to go right is almost an impossible one. We tried a chant, but they seemed to think, as it was not the one taught by Mr. Dodgson, it could not be right.
When Bok explained that one of the special reasons for his journey from America this summer was to see him, the Oxford mathematician sufficiently softened to ask the editor to sit down. Bok then broached his mission. "You are quite in error, Mr. Bok," was the Dodgson comment. "You are not speaking to the person you think you are addressing." For a moment Bok was taken aback.
When he described the shooting of a presidential candidate, Dodgson could see the man with his grimy hands and torn collar, crumpling up as the volley from the firing party caught him.
One of my earliest friends among literary folk was Mr. Charles Dodgson or Lewis Carroll or "Alice in Wonderland." Ah, that conveys something to you! I can't remember when I didn't know him.
"Can you advise anything?" "I cannot," the vicar said; "but I will put on my hat and walk with you down to the schoolhouse. To Dodgson and his wife is due the real credit of the change; they are indefatigable, and their influence is very great. Let us put the question to them." The schoolmaster had his evening class in; Mrs.
Nelly's mother was a broken woman; years of intemperance had prematurely aged her, and her enforced temperance during the last few months had apparently broken her spirit altogether, and the coarse, violent woman had almost sunk into quiet imbecility. Among others who talked over Nelly Hardy's future were Mr. and Mrs. Dodgson.
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