m England,
which he liberated on the Hudson, hoping to persuade them to become
acclimated; "St. John's Bread," or locust pods, have come to him from
the Holy. Land; pressed flowers and ferns from the Himalayas, from
Africa, from Haleakala.

Many correspondents are considerate enough not to ask for an answer,
realizing the countless demands of this nature made upon a man like
Mr. Burroughs; others boldly ask, not only for a reply, but for a
photograph, an autograph, his favorite poem written in his own hand, a
list of favorite books, his views on capital punishment, on universal
peace, on immortality; some naively ask for a sketch of his life, or a
character sketch of his wife with details of their home life, and how
they spend their time; a few modestly hope he will write a poem to them
personally, all for their very own. A man of forty-five is tired of the
hardware business, lives in the country, sees Mr. Burroughs's essays
in the "Country Calendar," and asks him to "learn" him to "rite for the
press."

Some readers take him to task for his opinions, some point out
errors, or too sweeping statements (for he does sometimes make them);
occasionally one suggests other topics for him to write about; others
labor to bring him back into orthodox paths; hundreds write of what
a comfort "Waiting" has been; and there are countless requests for
permission to visit Slabsides, as well as invitations to the homes of
his readers.

Many send him verses, a few the manuscripts of entire books, asking for
criticism. (And when he does give criticism, he gives it "unsweetened,"
being too honest to praise a thing unless in his eyes it merits praise.)
Numerous are the requests that he write introductions to books; that he
address certain women's clubs; that he visit a school, or a nature-study
club, or go from Dan to Beersheba to hold Burroughs Days--each writer,
as a rule, urging his claim as something very special, to which a deaf
ear should not be turned. Not all his correspondents are as considerate
as the little girl who was especially eager to learn his attitude toward
snakes, and who, after writing a pretty letter, ended thus: "Inclosed
you will find a stamp, for I know it must be fearfully expensive and
inconvenient to be a celebrity."

Occasionally he is a little severe with a correspondent, especially if
one makes a preposterous statement, or draws absurd conclusions from
faulty observations. But he is always fair. The follow