1904. Villa Quarto, Florence, JanuaryⒺexplanatory note. Ⓐtextual note

Dictating autobiography to a typewriterⒶtextual note is a new experience for me, but it goes very well, and is going to save time and “language”—the kind of language that soothes vexation.

I have dictated to a typewriterⒶtextual note before—but not autobiography. Between that experience and the present one there lies a mighty gap—more than thirty years! It is a sort of lifetime. In that wide interval much has happened—to the type-machine as well as to the rest of us. At the beginning of that interval a type-machine was a curiosity. The person who owned one was a curiosity, too. But now it is the other way about: the person who doesn’t own one is a curiosity. I saw a type-machine for the first time in—what year? I suppose it was 1871Ⓐtextual note—because Nasby was with meⒺexplanatory note at the time, and it was in Boston. We must have been lecturing, or we could not have been in Boston, I take it. I quitted the platform that season or the next.Ⓐtextual note

But never mind about that, it is no matter. Nasby and I saw the machine through a window, and went in to look at it. The salesman explained it to us, showed us samples of its work, and said it could do fifty-seven words a minute—a statement which we frankly confessed that we did not believe. So he put his type-girl to work, and we timed her by the watch. She actually did the fifty-seven in sixty seconds. We were partly convinced, but said it probably couldn’t happen again. But it did. We timed the girl over and over again—with the same result always: she won out. She did her work on narrow slips of paper, and we pocketed them as fast as she turned them out, to show as curiosities. The price of the machine was a hundred and twenty-five dollarsⒶtextual note. I bought one, and we went away very much excited.

At the hotel we got out our slips and were a little disappointed to find that they all contained the same words. The girl had economisedⒶtextual note time and labor by using [begin page 446] a formula which she knew by heart. However, we argued—safely enough—that the first type-girl must naturally take rank with the first billiard playerⒶtextual note: neither of them could be expected to get out of the game any more than a third or a half of what was in it. If the machine survived—if it survived—experts would come to the front, by and byⒶtextual note, who would double this girl’s output without a doubt. They would do aⒶtextual note hundred words a minute—my talking-speedⒶtextual note on the platform. That score has long ago been beaten.

At home I played with the toy, repeating and repeating and repeating “The Boy StoodⒶtextual note on the Burning Deck,”Ⓔexplanatory note until I could turn that boy’s adventure out at the rate of twelve words a minute; then I resumed the pen, for business, and only worked the machine to astonish inquiring visitors. They carried off many reams of the boy and his burning deck.

By and byⒶtextual note I hired a young woman, and did my first dictating (letters, mainly,)Ⓐtextual note and my last until now. The machine did not do both capitals and lower-caseⒶtextual note (as now), but only capitals. Gothic capitalsⒺexplanatory note they were, and sufficiently ugly. I remember the first letter I dictated. It was to Edward BokⒺexplanatory note, who was a boy then. I was not acquainted with him at that time. His present enterprising spirit is not new—he had it in that early day. He was accumulating autographs, and was not content with mere signatures, he wanted a whole autograph letter. I furnished it—in type-machine capitals, signature and all. It was long; it was a sermon; it contained advice; also reproaches. I said writing was my trade, my bread and butterⒶtextual note; I said it was not fair to ask a man to give away samples of his trade; would he ask the blacksmith for a horseshoe? would he ask the doctor for a corpse?

Now I come to an important matter—as I regard it. In the year ’73Ⓐtextual note the young woman copied a considerable part of a book of mine on the machine. In a previous chapter of this Autobiography I have claimed that I was the first person in the world that ever had a telephone in his houseⒺexplanatory note for practical purposes; I will now claim—until dispossessed—that I was the first person in the world to apply the type-machine to literature. That book must have been “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.”Ⓐtextual note I wrote the first half of it in ’72, the rest of it in ’73.Ⓐtextual note My machinist type-copied a book for me in ’73,Ⓐtextual note so I concludeⒶtextual note it was that one.Ⓔexplanatory note

That early BostonⒶtextual note machine was full of caprices, full of defects—devilish ones. It had as many immoralities as the machine of to-day has virtues. After a monthⒶtextual note or two I found that it was degrading my character, so I thought I would give it to Howells. He was reluctant, for he was suspicious of novelties and unfriendly towards them, and he remains so to this day. But I persuaded him. He had great confidence in me, and I got him to believe things about the machine that I did not believe myself. He took it home to Boston, and my morals began to improve, but his have never recovered.

He kept it threeⒶtextual note months, and then returned it to me. I gave it away twice after that, but it wouldn’t stay; it came back. Then I gave it to our coachman, Patrick McAleer, who was very grateful, because he did not know the animal, and thought I was trying to make him wiser and better. As soon as he got wiser and better he traded it to a heretic for a side-saddle which he could not use, and there my knowledge of its history ends.

WILLIAM WHITELEY SHOT DEAD

LONDON’S “UNIVERSAL PROVIDER” KILLED IN HIS STORE.

By a Man Calling Himself His Son, Who Afterward Shot Himself—Family Doesn’t Know Assailant—Panic Among Shoppers—Whiteley’sⒶtextual note Rise as a Merchant.

Special Cable Despatch to The Sun.

London, Jan. 24.—William Whiteley, known as “The Universal Provider,” who established the great department store in Westbourne Grove, the first of its kind in London, was shot dead this afternoon by an unidentified man, who afterward attempted to commit suicide.

Mr. Whiteley was in his store, when the man, who was well dressed, entered and insisted on seeing him. The two men had a heated interview, which ended by Mr. Whiteley threatening to call the police. As he turned to reenter his office his assailant fired twice from a revolver into the back of Mr. Whiteley’s head and then shot himself in the foreheadⒺexplanatory note, falling across his victim’s body.

WHITELEY, UNIVERSAL PROVIDER

How He Found a Wife for an Anglo-Indian Official in London on Furlough.

To the Editor of The SunⒶtextual note—Sir: With reference to the death of the great dry goods prince in London, Mr. William Whiteley, I should like to relate an incident which came under my own observation when I was in India many years ago. It was Mr. Whiteley’s boast that you could get anything in his store, from a pin to a plough, and he endeavored to live up to his position as a “universal provider.” In the ’70s there was a civil officer in the Central Provinces who occupied the position of a commissioner, or chief civil officer of a division, and consequently he was prominent socially.

During a furlough in England he had patiently looked for a wife, but had not succeeded. When he was about to return to India he went to Whiteley’s store and made some large purchases; and as he was leaving the store Mr. Whiteley accosted him and asked if he had found everything he wanted. The commissioner replied: “Yes, Mr. Whiteley, you have thoroughly supplied me with everything I want but one article, which it will be impossible for you to find.” “Don’t be so sure of that, sir!” replied the merchant. “State your wants, sir, and they shall be supplied.” “Well, Mr. Whiteley, I am in search of a wife, and I scarcely think you can supply that article.” Mr. Whiteley said: “Indeed I can. A young lady has just become a saleswoman in one of our departments, and she is altogether too highly educated and too refined for such a position. She is a clergyman’s daughter and has been left an orphan. If you will allow me, I will introduce you to her, and I will take care that she does not know about the bargain!”

The commissioner went to the department and was introduced to the young lady, of whom he made large purchases. The result was that he eventually asked her to become his wife. They were married in due time and went to India. During my residence this lady was the leader of society in one of the divisions of the Central Provinces. It is said that after the marriage, and before he left England, the commissioner called on Mr. Whiteley and told him of his success, and asked how much was to pay.Ⓐtextual note “Oh,” he replied, “that is con amore. Simply a labor of loveⒶtextual note!”

Anglo-Indian Ⓐtextual note.

Dollis Hill House Ⓐtextual note, London, 1900Ⓔexplanatory note. I spent eleven months in England, ending with June, ’97; spent July, August and September in Weggis, Switzerland; spent twenty months in Vienna; thenⒶtextual note a month and a half in London,Ⓐtextual note (1899); then two and a half months in the village of SannaⒶtextual note, Sweden; returned to London at the end of September, 1899, and have now been a detail of the world’s metropolis for the pastⒶtextual note twelve months. By help of these now-and-then glimpses of London, I am able to realize that in some ways she undergoes changes, and that in many ways she doesn’t.

In these latter ways she is what one must call—not slow, notⒶtextual note sluggish, for those are not polite words—but conservative. Conservative is one of the most courteous and delicate words the etiquette-book contains. The telephone remains at about [begin page 449] the stage in England whichⒶtextual note it had reached four years ago, from all I can see. In other enlightened countries one is hourly moved to use that handy servant, but not in England. In London, telephones are scarcer than churches. Perhaps it is because the service is substantially a monopoly in the hands of the Postal Department—a Department which is supernaturally and even superstitiously conservative.

If there is argument that the telephone is a great nuisance fifty-nine minutes in the hour, there is still no getting around the fact thatⒶtextual note in the remaining minute it is generally able to offset that bad record with a shining service which shall amply justify its right to exist. In my experience, life without the telephone is hampered, obstructed and difficult. Dollis Hill House comes nearer to being a paradise than any other home I have ever occupied. But it has no telephone, and that has sometimes made life in it a biting aggravation. There has never been a telephone in it. How did the occupant get along without it? I do not know; it is a riddle to me. Mr. Gladstone used to be a frequent guest of its owner a month or two at a time,Ⓐtextual note and we know thatⒶtextual note he was able to superintend the Empire without it. It looks incredible. He used to sitⒶtextual note in the shade of the trees, and read, talk, translate HomerⒺexplanatory note, pace the lawn, and take his rest in serenity and comfort—all without a telephone. And yet there wereⒶtextual note times—times of upheaval in India or South Africa or some other corner of the Empire—when it was necessarilyⒶtextual note a heavy strain upon him to haveⒶtextual note to wait for news from Downing street per messenger, and he must haveⒶtextual note privately wished he had a telephone. We know that he did govern the Empire from Dollis Hill House without a telephone—that is, he did it as well as he could, in the circumstances, and also with tranquillity—but it would have made another man sweat blood. But was he always really tranquil within, or was he only externally so—for effect? We cannot know. We only know that his rustic bench, under his favorite oak, has no bark on its arms Ⓐtextual note. Facts like thisⒶtextual note speak louder than words.

In England nothing is just as it is anywhere else. Dollis Hill House is not situated as is any other house on the planet.Ⓐtextual note It is within a biscuit-toss of solid London; yet it stands solitary on its airy hill, in the centre of six acres of lawn, andⒶtextual note garden, and shrubbery, and heavy-foliaged ancient trees; and beyond its wire fences theⒶtextual note rolling sea of green grass still stretches away on every hand, splotched with shadows of spreading oaks in whose black coolness flocks of sheep lie peacefully dreaming. Dreaming of what? That they are in London, the metropolis of the world, Post-Office District N.W.? Indeed no. They are not aware of it. I am aware Ⓐtextual note of it, but that is all; it is not possible to realize Ⓐtextual note it. For there is no suggestion of city here; it is country, pure and simple, and as still and reposeful as is theⒶtextual note bottom of the sea.Ⓐtextual note

It will remain as it is. It, with the surrounding country, has been bought for a park, to be for all timeⒶtextual note a memorial to Mr. Gladstone, and two years from now the park will be thrown open and made free to theⒶtextual note people.

No telephone. Twelve minutes’ walk to the brick-and-mortar mass of London, thirty-five minutes’ drive with a single horse to Piccadilly—Ⓐtextual noteand no telephone. But it is of no use to struggle with miracles,Ⓐtextual note as a rule—some of them cannot be accounted for; raising the dead is one, and this is another. It gives us much discomfort sometimes. For instance, WhiteleyⒶtextual note serves us. WhiteleyⒶtextual note is one of those people,Ⓐtextual note found only in London, I believe,Ⓐtextual note who serveⒶtextual note both cities and empires. His nearest establishment, on our side of London, is milesⒶtextual note away. We can’t telephone him, we can’t telegraph him, we must do everything by letterⒶtextual note—and give him a day and a half in which to fill the order. Our nearest telegraphⒶtextual note office is two miles away, [begin page 450] theⒶtextual note postofficeⒶtextual note which attends to ourⒶtextual note mails is further, the postman comes to us but twice a day—9 a.m., and 5 p.m. A letter sent to our pillar-box at any hour in the evening up to 11, will reach Whiteley next morningⒶtextual note, but not earlier. Whiteley will send out the things next day at 1 p.m., per wagon. He will send you anything you want: a bishop, a cook, a cow, a kangaroo; set of furniture; beef, ham, butter, ice, any breed of eatable or drinkable the globe affords; an orchestra, a nigger show, a banquet, with table-ware, flowers, waiters, after-dinner speakers; a bride, a groom, bridesmaids, groomsmen, wedding-clothes, bridal presents; cradle, cat, dog, doctor, rat-poison, rats, whetstone, grindstone, tombstone, hearse, corpse—anything you want; but you must get your order to him a day and a half in advance, to make sure. And then the trouble begins! One or two articles are lacking, and they may be essentials of the last essentiality. It may be a bishop, it may be a ham; but whatever it is, it is nearly sure to be theⒶtextual note very thing you most wantⒶtextual note. The driver has brought a list, and the missing thing is in it. Where is it, then, personally?Ⓐtextual note He says he has brought everything that wasⒶtextual note given him; and washes his hands of the whole matter. By and by the week’s bill comes, and in it the missing article is charged. The correspondence begins, now. You write Whiteley and say the missing article never arrived. Whiteley answers courteously that he will make inquiry. In time comes another letter: he has inquired of the driver, who is positive that he delivered everything that was given him. He has next inquired of the HeadⒶtextual note of the Ham Department—or of the Head of the Ecclesiastical Department, according to the nature of the missing link—Ⓐtextual notewho says he knows by the fact that the article is in the list, that he delivered it to the driver. That settles it. You have witnesses, Whiteley has witnesses—two on a side; but the court sits at Whiteley’s, not at your house. So you pay. That is,Whiteley attends to that, himself; you have to keep a cash deposit with providers of his magnitude.Ⓐtextual note

Next time, these proceedings are repeated; with the same result. You pay.Ⓐtextual note The third time, it all happens as before. YouⒶtextual note pay. Then you give it up. After that, you enter no complaints, but pay the whole list, missings and all, and say no word.Ⓐtextual note That is our experience. Why don’t we go elsewhere? Because there isn’t any elsewhere to go. Whatever you succeed in getting of Whiteley isⒶtextual note up to standard; and whileⒶtextual note that is alsoⒶtextual note the case with other world-providers like Harrod’s and the Army and Navy StoresⒺexplanatory note, their delivery-wagons do not come outside the cab limit, and we are as much as a hundred yards outside, I should say. Whiteley seems to be the only world-provider who provides everything on earth except a protection for his own repute and for his customer’s pocket. The others will deliver to you no detailⒶtextual note of your order without a signed receipt. It looks like obvious common sense. How Whiteley,Ⓐtextual note without that rational littleⒶtextual note check, has been able to keep his gigantic business successfully flourishing all these years is to me a wonderful thing, another English miracle. Once we sent a hymn-bookⒶtextual note, or a corkscrew or some such furniture to the Army and Navy to be tinkered up and put in going order, and a month later we were going to have anⒶtextual note entertainment and noticed that it was missing. The servants said they had not seen it since it went to the Army and Navy. I went over and laid the disaster before the presiding Admiral, and he rang up the responsible person, and did it just as calmly. He was not fluttered in the least; he knew he could find that thing. The responsible person brought his book, and exhibited his entries for MayⒶtextual note; whereby it appeared that on the 24thⒶtextual note the missing article was received andⒶtextual note repaired, and was dispatchedⒶtextual note by post three days later.Ⓐtextual note The Admiral rang upⒶtextual note a tracer [begin page 451] and set him on. The tracer traced the article through the postoffice and into the responsibilityⒶtextual note of a maid in our house. “Oh, that,” she said; “yes, I remember about it, now; I know where it is.” And she produced it. Whiteley would not have found it, here at Dollis Hill House,Ⓐtextual note for he would have had no check upon our cook. It is my belief that our cookⒶtextual note stole all those missing articles that we have been paying Whiteley for—or at least her fair share of them. Whiteley’s system is calculated to make thieves of cooks and drivers—in fact is bound to do it.

Since writing the above paragraph the need of a telephone has come into evidence again. We are to pack up everything and begin a sea-voyageⒶtextual note seventeenⒶtextual note days hence, and must remove from this house eight days from now. Experience has taught us that if we want things done in other countries, that is one thing: in England it is another. In LondonⒶtextual note you must not try to hurry the doer, you must give him time to turn around—time to turn around a good many times; time to turn around until he is dizzy; he cannot do anything until he is in condition.Ⓐtextual note So we wrote the Army and Navy, three days ago, and asked them if they could send us a packer by 10 a.m.Ⓐtextual note to-day. We mailed the letter at 3 p.m., within a mile of their establishment, and they probably had it before 5, for there are as many as eighteen postal-deliveries a day in their part of London. No answer the next morning. No answer the following day—yesterday. In the afternoon we telegraphed, asking an answer at our expense.Ⓐtextual note No answer in the evening. All arrangements came to a standstill, and there was much of that kind of languageⒶtextual note which one only thinks, but does not utter, for piety’s sake. There being no telephone, nothing could be done. At last a written answer came this morning, dated yesterday. They might have taken the trouble to send us a telegram of a single word,Ⓐtextual note and thus saved us some of our language for next occasion, but they didn’t. The letter was from their “Removals and Warehousing Department,” as per its heading, and it confessedⒶtextual note that “the pressure of quarter-day removalsⒺexplanatory note” had suffocated that Department; and that it would therefore “not be practicable to send a packer until after the 1st.” AⒶtextual note delay of thirteenⒶtextual note days! This was serious.Ⓐtextual note ThereⒶtextual note being no telephone, we hitched up and took as prompt measures as we could, hurryingⒶtextual note a messenger offⒶtextual note to Harrod’s. If it shall turn out that Harrod’s, too, is smothered by the quarter-day pressure,Ⓐtextual note what is to become of this family?

Fifteen minutes later—1.20 p.m. Telegram from the Army and Navy Stores: “Official calling this afternoon re packing.”

Evidently something has happened; the suffocation of the Removals Department has been relieved, andⒶtextual note thirteen days of it have vanished in a breath.Ⓐtextual note “Official” coming; probablyⒶtextual note the Admiral himself. ItⒶtextual note was not as important as all that; a common packer from the anchor-watchⒺexplanatory note would answer my purpose, and be less embarrassing, for I have nothing to do a salute with, and no way to pipe him over the side. Moreover, there will be two packers and two bills, now, for of course Harrod’s man will come, he not being reallyⒶtextual note expected but only invited.

7 p.m. TelegramⒶtextual note from the Army and Navy to say that after all, they find it impossible to spare a packer before the 1st of October.

I shall probably have to pack that satchelⒶtextual note myself.

Later. Probably not. Harrod’s is going to send a competent person to-morrow, if possible; will send one anyhowⒶtextual note, possible or impossible,Ⓐtextual note if we cannot wait. We said we couldn’t, and furnished reasons, some of which were true; the others I furnished, myself. So the packer is coming in the morning.

Next day. He came.

ThatⒶtextual note we have had this bother and worry is our own fault, and is the fruit of heedlessness.Ⓐtextual note We knew that London’s “moving” days were like any other city’s moving days—paralysing to all the transporting industries; and that one must do, here, what he would do inⒶtextual note any other city: make arrangements well in advance, or suffer when the rush comes. When London moves, it is a world moving. For a month a millionⒶtextual note wise people have been engaging packers and movers and making dates, while we the unwise, have sat still and allowed them to corner the market. We should have done the same thing in New York in a May-“moving,” andⒶtextual note would have found the market cornered there, when we were ready to start.

It may be that we have imported the World-Provider since I have been away from home. I hope so, for he is a public benefactor, and a trustworthy one.

HeⒶtextual note is seldom “out” of anything; his goods are worth butⒶtextual note a shade more than he asks for them; his time-limited things, such as fruits, vegetables, flowers,Ⓐtextual note meats, eggs, bread, cakes, pastry, etc., are notⒶtextual note stale, but fresh; he delivers everything at your door, and although you have to give him liberal time on your order when you are far away, it will at least arrive with certainty at the time promised—you can set your watch by his wagon. He has relieved life in London of four or five-sixths of its difficulties. After you have worn yourself out with a fortnight’s railroading around London hunting for the right country house by help of an estate-agency, and are at last in despair, you go to the Army and Navy and they look at their list and find you a Dollis Hill in fifteen minutes. Also, the World-Provider furnishes youⒶtextual note house-servants; also, carriage, coachman, horse and harness; also, the several kinds of horse-feed; and the supply is kept up from week to week without your knowing when it happens. We have had long experience of the Army and Navy, and Harrod’s, and Whiteley’sⒶtextual note, and have come to regard them as the best friends the helpless and improvident can have.Ⓐtextual note EachⒶtextual note country has ideas that are worthⒶtextual note borrowing by the others, and the world-provider ideaⒶtextual note is one which I think ought to be adopted and naturalised in all great cities.

The Army and Navy Co-operative Stores is an institution whichⒶtextual note was started by a small group of naval and military men thirty or forty years ago on a handful of capital—not as a speculation, but with the design of cheapening their current expenses. From that small seed it has grown, through its merits, to its present giant proportions and vast wealth. If the founders kept their stock they are well off now, even those who contributed but a month’s pay. The small group of stockholders of their day has expanded to twenty thousandⒶtextual note now, and their few dozenⒶtextual note guineas have multiplied to millions.

I suppose it was a madman who invented the London system of indicating addresses. Obscuring them, is the exacter phrase. I suppose it must cause many cabmen and postmen to lose their reason every year. The town is a vastⒶtextual note planless cobweb of criss-cross and helter-skelter streets which begin nowhere, end nowhere, and travel in no particular direction, but wander around aimlessⒶtextual note and indifferent. There are scores and scores of miles of them, and as a rule each of them is only three hundred yards long, and changes its name every time it turns a corner—which it is always doing. The tangle and confusion are bewildering beyond imagination; a stranger of my calibre cannot walk a quarter of a mile and find his way back again. There are elevenⒶtextual note Queen streets, two or three dozen King streets,Ⓐtextual note a library of Duke [begin page 453] streets, and so on,Ⓐtextual note and they are distributed far and wide over the town; soⒶtextual note, if you want a particular one out of a litter of streets which bear the same name, you can go home and give it up,Ⓐtextual note for you will never know where to look for it.

In some of the streets the houses are numbered, but there are great areas where the houses are merely named—like Dollis Hill House—not numbered. Sometimes a street is called a terrace, sometimes a lane, sometimes an alley, sometimes a place, sometimes a court, sometimes a garden, sometimes a crescent, sometimes a square, sometimes a circus, sometimes an avenue, and so on—anything that can protect it from being identified. One may wander block after block down a street of dwellings which display names only—no numbers: Idlewild, Horsechestnut Hall, Leslie Villa, Hollyhock Retreat, The Elms, The Oaks, The Pines, Windermere, Strawberry Cottage, Inglenook, Seafield House, Sanctified Rest, and so on. The postman has to learn all those names. Thousands of new ones are added annually. The cabman is worse off than the postman, for he has to know the whole town. He really does know it, though this seems unbelievable when one examines the map of London. To know it as he knows it must require a smart memory and an unusually retentive one, for there must be regions of it which he hardly sees twice a year. It is said that he cannot get a license until he has passed an examination. This must of course be so—one would know that, without being told it. I suppose that few pass and many fail. The cabman does know London, but he can never know the whole of its details—that is beyond the human possibilities. For instance, there are several cabmen who get into trouble when they try to find No. 7 Cromwell Gardens. They drive patiently up and down that great avenue hunting for No. 7, but they do not find it. This is because No. 7 Cromwell Gardens is not in Cromwell Gardens at all—it is around the corner, down another street. And when they try to find Albert Gate Mansions they are likely to fail, because that building is not in Albert Gate, it is in Knightsbridge. When they try to find Wellington Court they seek a court, quite naturally; but they are on the wrong scent, for it isn’t a court, it is a house. You must learn to pronounce names as cabmen and policemen pronounce them—otherwise you create confusion. Cromwell is a name in point. You say “2Ⓐtextual note Cromwell Houses.” The cabman looks dazed, but starts. By and by you find he is hailing other cabmen, as he goes along—asking questions evidently—and apparently not getting informing answers. Presently he stops and questions a policeman, and you put your head out and listen—noticing, at the time, that you are in a part of London which you have not seen before. The cabman tenders a name which vaguely resembles Cromwell, but is not familiar to you. The officer says there is no such place in London; then he steps forward and asks you to name the address. You say “2 Cromwell Houses.” He studies a minute, then his face lights, and he says to the driver, “He means Krumml Ⓐtextual note—Krummlowzez.” In time I learned how to pronounce it properly, and was respected after that. If you wish to go to No. 9 Harley Gardens, you may start promisingly enough, but you will not arrive. You will arrive at Airley Gardens. I get this from experience. You must learn to distribute your h’sⒶtextual note properly, then you will fare well, and have the driver’s respect, besides. It is easy and simple: you ask for Airley when you want Harley, and for Harley when you want Airley.