When John Adams was president and Thomas Jefferson was vice president of the United States, there was not a railroad in all the world. People did not travel very much. There were no broad, smooth highways as there are now. The roads were crooked and muddy and rough. If a man was obliged to go from one city to another, he often rode on horseback. Instead of a trunk for his clothing, he carried a pair of saddlebags. Instead of sitting at his ease in a parlor car, he went jolting along through mud and mire, exposed to wind and weather. 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. 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 he intended to stop at this hotel.