At  about  this  time  he  began  to  slip  off  some  of  the
burdens  from  his  pack,  turning  much  of  the  vineyard  work
over  to  others,  loafing  and  inviting  his  soul  more  and
more,  and  with  the  happy  result  his  readers  know.  At
this  time,  too,  people  began  to  hunt  him  out  in  his  woodland
retreat.  The  way  to  have  people  seek  a  thing  is  evidently
to  hide  it.  No  sooner  had  he  got  nicely  hidden  away  in
the  hills  than  visitors  from  far  and  near  began  to  come,
friends  and  strangers,  the  renowned  and  the  obscure,
students,  writers,  artists,  photographers,  lecturers,  re-
porters. They  came  singly,  in  pairs,  in  groups,  in  clubs,
in  schools.  It  is  doubtful  if  there  is  a  literary  landmark
in  our  country  that  has  had  so  many  visitors  as  has  Slab-
sides;  and  those  who  have  tasted  its  homely  hospitality
can  well  understand  the  appropriateness  of  the  Indian
name  given  to  their  host  by  a  clever  guest — Man-not-
afraid-of-Company.  First  to  come  of  all  the  clubs  were


THE   FRUIT  FARMER  289

members  of  the  Wake  Robin  Club  at  Vassar;  their  annual
picnic  and  woodland  ramble  with  the  Sage  of  Slabsides
is  now  a  time-honoured  institution.  On  a  certain  day  in
May  Slabsides  is  afloat  with  pretty  girls.  Inundating
his  cabin,  they  sit  at  his  feet  before  the  fire  if  the  day  is
cold,  or,  if  fair,  follow  his  lead  through  the  woods.  Count-
less other  clubs  and  schools  have  followed  suit,  until
now,  on  any  fine  Saturday  or  Sunday  in  spring,  early
summer,  and  fall,  merry  flocks  of  girls  and  women,  and
often  boys  and  men,  may  be  seen  wending  their  way  along
the  country  road  and  through  the  woods  to  Slabsides.
