A Chilhowee Lily
The night had come at last, albeit almost as bright as day, but with so ethereal, so chastened a splendor that naught of day seemed real. A world of dreams it was, of gracious illusions, of far vague distances that lured with fair promises that the eye might not seek to measure. The gorgeous tints were gone, and in their stead were soft grays and indefinite blurring browns, and every suggestion of silver that metal can show flashed in variant glitter in the moon. The mountains were majestically sombre, with a mysterious sense of awe in their great height There were few stars; only here and there the intense lustre of a still planet might withstand the annihilating magnificence of the moon.
Its glamour did not disdain the embellishment of humbler objects. As Rufe Kinnicutt approached a little log cabin nestling in a sheltered cove he realized tha