My Dear Magdalen,

I want to explain to you why I did not call yesterday. I was sorry to miss you, but you see I had so many conversations on the way. I tried to explain to the people in the street that I was going to see you, but they wouldn’t listen; they said they were in a hurry, which was rude.

At last I met a wheelbarrow that I thought would attend to me, but I couldn’t make out what was in it. I saw some features at first, then I looked through a telescope, and found it was a countenance; then I looked through a telescope and it was a face! I thought it was rather like me, so I fetched a large looking-glass to make sure, and then to my great joy I found it was me. We shook hands, and were just beginning to talk, when myself came up and joined us, and we had quite a pleasant conversation. I said, “Do you remember when we all met at Sandown?” and myself said, “It was very jolly there; there was a child called Magdalen,” and me said, “I used to like her a little; not much, you know—only a little.”

Then it was time for us to go to the train, and who do you think came to the station to see us off? You would never guess. They were two very dear friends of mine, who happen to be here just now, and beg to be allowed to sign this letter as your affectionate friends,

Lewis Carroll and C. L. Dodgson.