One day John Randolph, of Roanoke, [Footnote: Ro'a noke.] set out on
horseback to ride to a town that was many miles from his home. The
road was strange to him, and he traveled very slowly.
When night came on he stopped at a pleasant roadside inn and asked for
lodging. The innkeeper welcomed him kindly. He had often heard of the
great John Randolph, and therefore he did all that he could to
entertain him well.
A fine supper was prepared, and the innkeeper himself waited upon his
guest. John Randolph ate in silence. The innkeeper spoke of the
weather, of the roads, of the crops, of politics. But his surly guest
said scarcely a word.
In the morning a good breakfast was served, and then Mr. Randolph made
ready to start on his journey. He called for his bill and paid it. His
horse was led to the door, and a servant helped him to mount it.
As he was starting away, the friendly innkeeper said, "Which way will
you travel, Mr. Randolph?"