summer
reading. "These literary pursuits rusticate with us," says Cicero, and
thus he presents to us a pen-picture of the Roman patrician stretched
upon the cool grass under the trees, perusing the latest popular
romance, while, forsooth, in yonder hammock his dignified spouse swings
slowly to and fro, conning the pages and the colored plates of the
current fashion journal. Surely in the telltale word "rusticantur" you
and I and the rest of human nature find a worthy precedent and much
encouragement for our practice of loading up with plenty of good
reading before we start for the scene of our annual summering.

As for myself, I never go away from home that I do not take a trunkful
of books with me, for experience has taught me that there is no
companionship better than that of these friends, who, however much all
things else may vary, always give the same response to my demand upon
their solace and their cheer. My sister, Miss Susan, has often
inveighed against this practice of mine, and it was only yesterday that
she informed me that I was the most exasperating man in the world.

However, as Miss Susan's experience with men during the sixty-seven hot
summers and sixty-eight hard winters of her life has been somewhat
limited, I think I should bear her criticism without a murmur. Miss
Susan is really one of the kindest creatures in all the world. It is
her misfortune that she has had all her life an insane passion for
collecting crockery, old pewter, old brass, old glass, old furniture
and other trumpery of that character; a passion with which I have
little sympathy. I do not know that Miss Susan is prouder of her
collection of all this folderol than she is of the fact that she is a
spinster.

This latter peculiarity asserts itself upon every occasion possible.
I recall an unpleasant scene in the omnibus last winter, when the
obsequious conductor, taking advantage of my sister's white hair and
furrowed cheeks, addressed that estimable lady as "Madam." I'd have
you know that my sister gave the fellow to understand very shortly and
in very vigorous English (emphasized with her blue silk umbrella) that
she was Miss Susan, and that she did not intend to be Madamed by
anybody, under any condition.

IV

THE MANIA OF COLLECTING SEIZES ME

Captivity Waite never approved of my fondness for fairy literature.
She shared the enthusiasm which I expressed whenever "Robinson Crusoe"
was mentioned; there was just