nburgh minister named Brunton, who wished to compile a hymnal,
wrote to the poet Crabbe for a list of hymns; and how Crabbe (who,
albeit a clergyman, knew probably as little about hymns as any man
in England) wrote in turn to Scott, to please help him to help
Brunton; and how Scott replied in desperation that he envied the
hermit of Prague who never saw pen nor ink. How many of us have in
our day thought longingly of that blessed anchorite! Surely Mr.
Herbert Spencer must, consciously or unconsciously, have shared
Scott's sentiments, when he wrote a letter to the public press,
explaining with patient courtesy that, being old, and busy, and very
tired, it was no longer possible for him to answer all the unknown
correspondents who demanded information upon every variety of
subject. He had tried to do this for many years, but the tax was too
heavy for his strength, and he was compelled to take refuge in
silence.

Ingenious authors and editors who ask for free copy form a class apart.
They are not pursuing knowledge for their own needs, but offering
themselves as channels through which we may gratuitously enlighten
the world. Their questions, though intimate to the verge of
indiscretion, are put in the name of humanity; and we are bidden to
confide to the public how far we indulge in the use of stimulants,
what is the nature of our belief in immortality, if--being women--we
should prefer to be men, and what incident of our lives has most
profoundly affected our careers. Reticence on our part is met by the
assurance that eminent people all over the country are hastening to
answer these queries, and that the "unique nature" of the discussion
will make it of permanent value to mankind. We are also told in
soothing accents that our replies need not exceed a few hundred words,
as the editor is nobly resolved not to infringe upon our valuable
time.

Less commercial, but quite as importunate, are the correspondents
who belong to literary societies, and who have undertaken to read,
before these select circles, papers upon every conceivable subject,
from the Bride of the Canticle to the divorce laws of France. They
regret their own ignorance--as well they may--and blandly ask for
aid. There is no limit to demands of this character. The young
Englishwoman who wrote to Tennyson, requesting some verses which she
might read as her own at a picnic, was not more intrepid than the
American school-girl who recently asked a man of letters