And it may actually happen, if you stop him, that he will take a tin whistle from his bag and play for you, "Money Musk," or "Old Dan Tucker," or he may produce a battered old volume of Montaigne from which he will read you a passage.

If such an adventure should befall you, know that you have met Your friend, David Grayson.
P.S .-- Harriet bemoans most of all the unsolved mystery of the sign man.
But it doesn't bother me in the least.

I'm glad now I never found him.
The poet sings his song and goes his way.

If we sought him out how horribly disappointed we might be! We might find him shaving, or eating sausage, or drinking a bottle of beer.

We might find him shaggy and unkempt where we imagined him beautiful, weak where we thought him strong, dull where we thought him brilliant.