It was raining as I got off the train in Nashville, Tennessee. I was tired so I went straight to my hotel. A big, heavy man was walking up and down in the hotel lobby. Something about the way he moved made me think of a hungry dog looking for a bone. He had a big, fat, red face and a sleepy expression in his eyes. He introduced himself as Wentworth Caswell – Major Wentworth Caswell – from “a fine southern family”. Caswell pulled me into the hotel’s barroom and yelled for a wai  ter. We ordered drinks. While we drank, he talked continually about himself, his family, his wife and her family. He said his wife was rich. He showed me a handful of silver coins that he pulled from his coat pocket.By this time, I had decided that I wanted no more of him. I said good night. I was born in the south myself. But I live in New York now. I write for a large magazine. My boss had asked me to go to Nashville. The magazine had received some stories and poems from a writer in Nashville, named Azalea Adair. The editor liked her work very much. The publisher asked me to get her to sign an agreement to write only for his magazine. I left the hotel at nine o’clock the next morning to find Miss Adair. It was still raining. As soon as I stepped outside I met Uncle Caesar. He was a big, old black man with fuzzy gray hair. Uncle Caesar was wearing the strangest coat I had ever seen. It must have been a military officer’s coat. It was very long and when it was new it had been gray. But now rain, sun and age had made it a rainbow of colors. Only one of the buttons was left. It was yellow and as big as a fifty cent coin. Uncle Caesar stood near a horse and carriage. He opened the carriage door and said softly,  “Step right in, sir. I’ll take you anywhere in the city.”“I want to go to 861 Jasmine Street,” I said, and I started to climb into the carriage. But the old man stopped me. “Why do you want to go there, sir?” “What business is it of yours?” I said angrily. Uncle Caesar relaxed and smiled. “Nothing, sir. But it’s a lonely part of town. Just step in and I’ll take you there right away.” 861 Jasmine Street had been a fine house once, but now it was old and dying. I got out of the carriage. “That will be two dollars, sir,” Uncle Caesar said. I gave him two one-dollar bills. As I handed them to him, I noticed that one had been torn in half and fixed with a piece of blue paper. Also, the upper right hand corner was missing. 小题1:The narrator （故事的叙述者）got to Nashville probably _______.
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