he'll put up for the night."

"Oh, any kind of a place will suit him," answered the landlord. "He's
one of those country fellows who can sleep in the haymow and eat with
the horses."

The traveler was soon at the door. He was dressed plainly, and, with
his reddish-brown hair and mud-bespattered face, looked like a hard-
working countryman just in from the backwoods.

"Have you a room here for me?" he asked the landlord.

Now the landlord prided himself upon keeping a first-class hotel, and
he feared that his guests would not like the rough-looking traveler.
So he answered: "No, sir. Every room is full. The only place I could
put you would be in the barn."

"Well, then," answered the stranger, "I will see what they can do for
me at the Planters' Tavern, round the corner;" and he rode away.

About an hour later, a well-dressed gentleman came into the hotel and
said, "I wish to see Mr. Jefferson."

"Mr. Jefferson!" said the landlord.

"Yes, sir. Thomas Jefferson, the vice president of the United States."

"He isn't here."

"Oh, but he must be. I met him as he rode into town, and he said that