I came to the conclusion that upon the whole it was best to do so and await the verdict.
The writer of a book designed for his friends has no reason to anticipate an unkind reception, but there is always some danger of its being damned with faint praise.

The responses in my case, however, exceeded expectations, and were of such a character as to satisfy me that the writers really had enjoyed the book, or meant at least a part of what they said about it.

Every author is prone to believe sweet words.

Among the first that came were in a letter from Anthony Drexel, Philadelphia's great banker, complaining that I had robbed him of several hours of sleep.

Having begun the book he could not lay it down and retired at two o'clock in the morning after finishing.