After spending a month in Guelph, we started back by easy stages, and stopped one day in St. Louis, one day in San Antonio, and two days at Cline, my old stamping-ground. Texas has boomed in the past ten years, and land that was selling there for $2.50 per acre at the time I left in 1902 is now, 1912, worth from $60 to $100 per acre, and cotton is being raised on what was considered rather poor grazing-land. And as Texas is getting wealthy, it is also getting very moral. No more gun-plays, no more gambling, and not even any more whisky in the greater part of the state. There is even a state-law prohibiting a man from taking a drink out of his own bottle on the trains, or playing a game of cards for fun in any public place, which includes trains. They tell about Judge J——, of San Antonio, going to the smoking-room on the Pullman to get a drink of water. When he picked up the glass he smelled whisky. He glared round the room, and demanded who had been drinking whisky on the train contrary to law. After he had repeated his question a couple of times a young fellow said in a shaky voice, “I did, judge.” “Well,” thundered the judge, “how dare you hide the bottle?” They also tell a story about this judge’s memory for faces. A prisoner was before him who denied ever having been arrested before, yet the judge was positive he knew him for an old offender. Finally the judge said, "Oh, I know you, and you can’t fool me; now, own up, have I not seen you often before me?" “Yes,” finally replied the prisoner, "I’m the bar-tender in the saloon across the way."