Modern civilization has few finer sights and sounds than the liveryman when he is asked if he has a horse he can let out for a ten-mile drive into the country. He looks at the supplicant doubtfully; “Well, I dunno,” he says, “where was it you wanted to drive to?” He receives the answer with a non-committal air. “That's nearer fourteen mile than ten,” he says and then turns to the hostler. “Say, Potts, Billy's out, ain't he?” Potts growls out the answer, “Doc Weaver's got him out. Won't be back till seven.” The liveryman pulls slowly at his cigar, and runs his hand over his hair. “How's the bay mare's hoof today?” he asks. Potts shakes his head. “That's right,” says the liveryman, “it don't do to take no chances with a hoof like that. And we haven't got a thing else in the barn except that black horse, have we, Potts?” “Everything else out,” says Potts. The liveryman walks away a few steps, and then turns suddenly. “Hitch up the black, Potts,” he says, with an air of sudden recklessness. “Put him in that light, side-bar buggy of Doc Weaver's. Want a hitching strap? Put in a hitching strap, Potts. AND that new whip.” The result is that you get the horse and buggy the liveryman intended you to have from the minute he saw you coming toward him down the street, but you get it with a fine touch of style that is worth much in this dollar and cent world. Potts drives the rig around to where you are standing, and the liveryman sends Potts back to get a clean laprobe instead of the one that is in the buggy. He pats the horse on the neck as you climb in, and as you pick up the reins he says, as if conferring a parting favor that money could not repay, “Keep a fair tight rein on him; it's the first time he has been out of the stable to-day.” Eliph' Hewlitt, in his travels, had learned the value of the liveryman. He used him as friend and directory. None else could tell him so well where the prosperous farmers lived, nor who was most likely to fall a victim to Jarby's Encyclopedia in the town itself. From the liveryman he could learn which minister, if there were more than one, would be the best to have head his list of subscribers, which lady was head of the Society, and what society she was head of. He took one of the chairs that were ranged along the side of the hotel, and laid his sample across his knees. He chose the chair that was next to Pap Briggs, for he was ready to become acquainted with the man he intended soon to have for a father-in-law. “Nice town you got here,” he said. “She's purty good,” agreed Pap, “except for taxes. Taxes is eternal high, and it's all us propputy owners can do to keep 'em from goin' clean out o' sight. City council don't seem to care a dumb how high they git. I wish't I'd stayed on my farm.” “Taxes ain't so high here as what they are in Jefferson, Pap,” suggested the landlord. “If you lived down there they'd make you holler, all right.”