I believe in this instance I did weakly send the book, autographed fly-leaf and all. One feels sympathetic towards a lonely woman compatriot left stranded on an Indian hill-top, thinking perchance of a friendly Christmas-time at home, with one’s own people, shops and shows to amuse and cheer one. “A bibliophilic favour” was on another occasion requested. This time my correspondent was nearer home: “Ever since boyhood I have been an ardent lover of books; but, alas! owing to a paucity of pence (to say nothing of pounds), I am only able to buy when I can, not when I would. So I am sorry to have to confess that none of your volumes grace, as yet, my humble shelves. But I am not wholly without examples of your pen. Some of your articles, those on “Dr. Nansen at Home” and “Henrik Ibsen” and “Björnstjerne Björnson,” I have had carefully excerpted from back numbers of _Temple Bar_ and neatly backed for preservation. Well, I should very much like to adorn each of them by the insertion of a line or two in your handwriting—will you graciously make it possible for me to do so? The veriest trifle—or trifles—that you might care to send me would, you may be sure, be gratefully accepted and prized.” I am afraid those magazine excerpts, though neatly “backed” for preservation, are still unadorned. What, one wonders, will become of pickers-up of bibliophilic trifles in these days when everything committed to paper is typewritten? The relics of dead authors of the twentieth century, when those of the twenty-first come to collect them, will not be the manuscripts written in ink in a neat (or otherwise) handwriting, such as the British Museum purchases for hundreds of pounds and stores among its treasures to-day; but lacerated engrimed sheets of typescript which can make but small appeal to anyone’s emotions. At other times various correspondents have asked of me: If I would figure with my children in a series of articles entitled “Model Mothers,” which Mr. Harmsworth’s (Lord Northcliffe’s) enterprise was bringing out. Would I get somebody concert engagements? Did I approve of divorce? Had I any theory in the bringing up of babies? Would I permit my visiting-card to be reproduced in the illustration of an article on “The Etiquette of Card-leaving”? Had I two or three good specimens of opals from Querétaro for a correspondent who had _twice_ read my Mexican book? While another enterprising gleaner sought my help in gathering his sheaf as follows: “I am endeavouring to collect the opinions of prominent ladies and gentlemen as to what is the ideal age for marriage. If you would be so good as to write a few lines, giving your opinion on this matter, from the lady’s point of view, and enclose them in the accompanying stamped addressed envelope at your earliest convenience, I assure you that I should esteem it a great favour. Sincerely hoping that you may see your way to accede to my request,” etc.