I shall never forget when, sitting on a rustic seat with Mr. Dodgson under a dear old tree in the Botanical Gardens, I heard for the first time the delightful and ever-entertaining story of Hans Andersen's "Ugly Duckling." I was devoted to books, and could read quite well for so small a child, but I cannot explain the delightful way in which Mr. Dodgson read and told his stories: as he read, the characters were real flesh and blood--living figures. This particular story made a great impression on me, and, being very sensitive about my ugly little self, it greatly interested me. I remember his impressing upon me that it was better to be good, truthful, and to try not to think of self, than to be a pretty, selfish child, spoilt and disagreeable, and he, from that story, gave me the name of "Ducky," which name clung to me for many years; in fact, from that day Mary Pearson always called me "Miss Ducky." [Illustration: (_From a Photo by Lewis Carroll._) THE ORIGINAL OF "ALICE IN WONDERLAND."] Many a time has Mr. Dodgson said, "Never mind, little Ducky; perhaps some day you will turn out a swan." I always attribute my love for animals to the teaching of Mr. Dodgson: his stories of animal life, his knowledge of their lives and histories, his enthusiasm about birds and butterflies, passed many a tiresome hour away. The monkeys in the Botanical Gardens were our special pets, and, oh! the nuts and biscuits we used to give them! He entered into the spirit of the fun as much as "Ducky" did. Then there were the mornings spent in the Christ Church and Merton meadows: Mary and I took our daily walks abroad there. Years have passed since then, and I have travelled in many climes, but I always think that the recollections of the days of one's childhood never fade. One's views of life, persons, and things were so fresh, so different from the judgment of things in later years. Those meadows were, to me, full of the loveliest field-flowers--daisies, the beautiful "snake-flower"--so rare, I understand now--the golden buttercups, the masses of dandelions with the added, never-failing fun of blowing the downy seeds away.