This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 edition. Excerpt: ... PORCH RAILLERY I Was sitting on the porch last night, steeped in dreams. It was twelve o'clock, and the others of the household were all asleep, but the white magic of the moon had so bewitched me that I could not go inside. I sat on the steps, nursing my knees and watching the lilies nod in the moonlight, or studying the tracery of the pine trees against the sky, or wondering at the grace of the Lombardy poplars that rose like tall altar candles lifted for the stars to light. The gazing-globe was a great silver moon dropped down upon a pedestal, reflecting the clouds it had fallen through. The thousand night scents were gathered into one dewy perfume unimaginably sweet. The little brook talked softly to itself astir in its pebbly bed, and the birds chirped sleepily now and then as if they hated to spend such wonderful hours in slumber. I watched the ghostly clouds that went a-traveling across the sky, making no sound, leaving no footprint, with not even the Milky Way to find their path back home by. Suddenly I heard a rustle in the shrubbery toward the little path that comes up the hill from the lake, accompanied by a curious, clinking sound. Presently the bushes were thrust aside and a figure stepped into the light as he came toward me. He had on a broad hat such as men wear on the plains, a flannel shirt open at the throat, corduroy trousers, and a belt with a brace of pistols stuck into it. He took off his hat with a grandiose sweep as he saw me. "Good-evening!' "Good-evening," I saluted him, rising. "I heard you was from Texas and liked my sort of folks, so I thought I'd look you up," he said jauntily. "Yes, Mr.?" "Dave Billings," he proffered. "I'm always glad to see any one from Texas, Mr. Billings. Come in and have a seat. You're...