In Winter Quarters 



cal, French, Italian or American liter- 

 ary triumphs. 



I am not yet quite a collector. There 

 is I am perfectly well aware in me 

 moderate possibilities of one. I began 

 collecting rare books for pot-boiling 

 purposes long ago. I borrowed $1,000 

 to buy some annotated sets that later 

 proved a gold mine throughout an 

 editorial apprenticeship. These were 

 works of reference upon a more or less 

 technical subject, and possessed no 

 literary value. They have some of my 

 own notes in them now, but I doubt 

 if the whole lot would bring twenty 

 per cent of what they cost more than 

 thirty years ago. They have served 

 their purpose along with a lot of bound 

 manuscripts, long since consigned to 

 the rubbish heap. But down in Phila- 

 delphia the other day the city that 

 has streets named for all sorts of 

 beautiful trees, with no trees on them 

 I saw in Rosenbach's famous stock 

 various "association" books that are 

 [iS4l 



