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Stockton, Frank Richard, 1834-1902

"A Bicycle of Cathay"

You cannot do anything
by starlight except simply walk about, and if there are any trees,
that isn't easy. You know this, you don't expect anything more, and
you're satisfied. But moonlight is different. Sometimes it is so
bright out-of-doors when the moon is full that you are apt to think
you could play golf or croquet, or even sit on a bench and read. But
it isn't so. You can't do any of these things--at least, you can't do
them with any satisfaction. And yet, month after month, if you live in
the country, the moon deceives you into thinking that for a great many
things she is nearly as good as the sun. But all she does is to make
the world beautiful, and she doesn't do that as well as the sun does
it. The stars make no pretences, and that is the reason I like them
better.
"But I did not bring you out here to tell you all this," she
continued, offering me no opportunity of giving my opinions on the
stars and moon. "I simply wanted to say that I am so glad and thankful
to be walking about on the surface of the earth with whole bones and
not a scratch from head to foot"--at this point my heart began to
sink: I never do know what to say when people are grateful to
me--"that I am going to show you my gratitude by treating you as I
know you would like to be treated.


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