'Yes, Deer are we, And dear is she! We love this child So sweet and mild: We all rejoice At Maggie's voice: We all are fed With Maggie's bread-- For Maggie may be Bootles' Baby!' To Pembroke College next they go, Where little Maggie meets The Master's wife and daughter: so Once more into the streets. They met a Bishop on their way-- A Bishop large as life-- With loving smile that seemed to say 'Will Maggie be my wife?' Maggie thought _not_, because, you see, She was so _very_ young, And he was old as old could be-- So Maggie held her tongue. 'My Lord, she's _Bootles' Baby_: we Are going up and down,' Her friend explained, 'that she may see The sights of Oxford-town.' 'Now say what kind of place it is!' The Bishop gaily cried. 'The best place in the Provinces!' That little maid replied. Next to New College, where they saw Two players hurl about A hoop, but by what rule or law They could not quite make out. 'Ringo' the Game is called, although 'Les Graces' was once its name, When _it_ was--as its name will show-- A much more _graceful_ Game. The Misses Symonds next they sought, Who begged the child to take A book they long ago had bought-- A gift for friendship's sake! Away, next morning, Maggie went From Oxford-town: but yet The happy hours she there had spent She could not soon forget. The train is gone: it rumbles on: The engine-whistle screams: But Maggie's deep in rosy sleep-- And softly, in her dreams, Whispers the Battle-cry of Freedom! 'Oxford, good-bye!' She seems to sigh, 'You dear old City, With Gardens pretty, And lawns, and flowers, And College-towers, And Tom's great Bell-- Farewell, farewell! For Maggie may be Booties' Baby!' --LEWIS CARROLL." [Illustration: "A TURK"] The tale has been often told of how "Alice in Wonderland" came to be written, but it is a tale so well worth the telling again, that, very shortly, I will give it to you here. Years ago in the great quadrangle of Christ Church, opposite to Mr. Dodgson, lived the little daughters of Dean Liddell, the great Greek scholar and Dean of Christ Church. The little girls were great friends of Mr. Dodgson's, and they used often to come to him and to plead with him for a fairy tale. There was never such a teller of tales, they thought! One can imagine the whole delightful scene with little trouble. That big cool room on some summer's afternoon, when the air was heavy with flower scents, and the sounds that came floating in through the open window were all mellowed by the distance. One can see him, that good and kindly gentleman, his mobile face all aglow with interest and love, telling the immortal story.