One day some men were sitting by the door of a hotel in Baltimore. As
they looked down the street they saw a horseman coming. He was riding
very slowly, and both he and his horse were bespattered with mud.
"There comes old Farmer Mossback," said one of the men, laughing. "He's
just in from the backwoods."
"He seems to have had a hard time of it," said another; "I wonder where
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.
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