' 'But will you not stop and rest?'
said I; 'you seem wet and weary.' 'Yes,' said he, 'it has been foul
weather since I left home.' 'Stop, then, and refresh yourself.' 'I
must not stop, I must reach home to-night, if possible, though I
think you must be mistaken in the distance to Boston.' He then gave
the reins to his horse, which he restrained with difficulty, and
disappeared in a moment. A few days afterwards I met the man a little
this side of Claremont, winding around the hills in Unity, at the
rate, I believe, of twenty miles an hour."
"Is Peter Rugg his real name, or has he accidentally gained that
name?" "I know not, but presume he will not deny his name; you can ask
him, for see, he has turned his horse and is passing this way." In a
moment a dark-coloured, high-spirited horse approached, and would have
passed without stopping, but I had resolved to speak to Peter Rugg, or
whoever the man might be. Accordingly. I stepped into the street, and
as the horse approached I made a feint of stopping him. The man
immediately reined in his horse. "Sir," said I, "may I be so bold as
to inquire if you are not Mr. Rugg? for I think I have seen you
before." "My name is Peter Rugg," said he; "I have unfortunately lost
my way; I am wet and weary, and will take it kindly of you to direct
me to Boston." "You live in Boston, do you, and in what street?" "In
Middle Street." "When did you leave Boston?" "I cannot tell precisely;
it seems a considerable time.
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