The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-07-26
ON PACKING UP FOR
 A SUMMER VACATION
WHICH BEGINS TRUNK FILLED WITH BOOKS AND STEAMER
 RUGS ALMOST ANYWHERE
By ANNIE KENpRlck WALKER.

The trunk was filling with books when the Dear One stopped suddenly and looked about rather hopelessly but de- terminedly.
 T am going to take all of these books out" she said.
 What are you going to do with them?2 asked, folding chiffon wells with un- usual daintiness.
 Leave them at home,' she said q would rather buy books after we get there than lug around all this library"
 "Or even trust to the taste of the train boy? I asked dismally.
 70, it won't be as bad as that" she answered cheerfully. But anything will be better than being piled up with as many books as you want to carry. Be- tween books and steamer rugs and cush- ions there isn't any room for clothes.'
 You must decide between books and clothes" she said with an air of being final.
 Then l began to lose interest in the chiffon veils and had look into one of the trunks slowly filling with dear lit- tie volumes, most of them old and worn looking Some of them in bright new bindings, with leaves still uncut and looking as if they had just been bought for the express purpose of being taken on a summer vacation, to be read out under trees It was plain that they could not be left. And side by side were the other books, those that l loved and that were waiting to be read when things were again unpacked in some restful spot, tucked away perhaps in the heart of the mountains, but somewhere where you had time to think of them and to really come to know the book people.
 It finally ended by parting with those that l suppose were predestined not to travel about this summer, quite a long list of stay-at-homes that were put back on dusty shelves. But, there were still some delightful hours provided for, even after the Dear One had gained such a sweeping victory. I held on to Floria Mcleod and her barbaric and spiritual and romantic tales. l smuggled Lamar time in among the steamer rugs. I went very boldly about Balzac. Then there were some memoirs, side by side with my poets; then my little out-of door books; then the flesh, gaily bound ones, just sent in, and one of them that wonderful translation by Lafeadio Hearn.
 This one little book Is charming enough to fill many summer days with joy; not in just reading the book, but in think ing about it afterward.
 After much revision of book lists, first a victory for the Dear One, then one for myself, books, writing materials and many out-of-door comforts for long, de- licous days beneath the trees, were finally disposed of satisfactorily. The expressman came in, made the usual re- mark that the trunks were the heaviest he had ever handled, puffed dreadfully in his exertions, finally got them down stairs.
 T do not ever feel that I am really going away until the trunks are gone" remarked the Dear One.
 Somehow that remarks of hers made me feel suddenly very happy. It seemed to emphasize that the worry of prepa- rations had ended and that many weeks of peace and happiness were waiting in beautiful space; that we had only to draw all this summer beauty and joy into ourselves by wishing for 1t and by