A bit from a book about General Houston:
"The sunlit balm of Indian summer lay upon the rolling landscape. In a corner of the lawn, under a great oak, General Houston loved to sit and smoke, with a blue velvet cap on his head, soft yellow moccasins on his feet and the San Jacinto leg on a stool. Shadows played on the green hills and the melodies of Stephen Foster floated from Margaret's piano. The General's chair was the dependable rawhide bottom one that had twice served him while president of the Republic...
Thus an old man under an old tree, smoking and thinking, still on the bourne of the dream world that had drawn into the forest a boy with a book and a rifle--half mystic, half showman; half poet, half sage."
He would be disgusted at this political correctness.
