[NB FIVE POUNDS will be given to any one who succeeds in writing an original poetical Charade, introducing the line "My First is followed by a bird," but making no use of the answer to this Charade.
My First is a singular at best More plural is my Second. My Third is far the pluralest-- So plural-plural, I protest, It scarcely can be reckoned!
My First is followed by a bird My Second by believers In magic art: my simple Third Follows, too often, hopes absurd, And plausible deceivers.
My First to get at wisdom tries-- A failure melancholy! My Second men revere as wise: My Third from heights of wisdom fall To depths of frantic folly!
My First is ageing day by day, My Second's age is ended. My Third enjoys an age, they say, That never seems to fade away, Through centuries extended!
My Whole? I need a Poet's pen To paint her myriad phases The monarch, and the slave, of men-- A mountain-summit, and a den Of dark and deadly mazes!
A flashing light--a fleeting shade-- Beginning, end, and middle Of all that human art hath made, Or wit devised "Go, seek her aid, If you would guess my riddle."]
While on the subject of the two "Alices," I will put in a letter that he wrote mentioning his books. He was so modest about them, that it was extremely difficult to get him to say, or write, anything at all about them. I believe it was a far greater pleasure for him to know that he had pleased some child with "Alice" or "The Hunting of the Snark," than it was to be hailed by the press and public as the first living writer for children.
"MY OWN DARLING ISA,--The full value of a copy of the French 'Alice' is £45: but, as you want the 'cheapest' kind, and as you are a great friend of mine, and as I am of a very noble, generous disposition, I have made up my mind to a _great_ sacrifice, and have taken £3, 10s. 0d. off the price. So that you do not owe me more than £41, 10s. 0d., and this you can pay me, in gold or bank-notes _as soon as you ever like_. Oh dear! I wonder why I write such nonsense! Can you explain to me, my pet, how it happens that when I take up my pen to write a letter to _you_ it won't write sense? Do you think the rule is that when the pen finds it has to write to a nonsensical good-for-nothing child, it sets to work to write a nonsensical good-for-nothing letter? Well, now I'll tell you the real truth. As Miss Kitty Wilson is a dear friend of yours, of course she's a _sort_ of a friend of mine. So I thought (in my vanity) 'perhaps she would like to have a copy' from the author, 'with her name written in it.' So I've sent her one--but I hope she'll understand that I do it because she's _your_ friend, for, you see, I had never _heard_ of her before: so I wouldn't have any other reason.
