But my horse shows by his impatience that he
is in a strange place. Absurd, that I should have mistaken this place
for the old town of Boston! It is a much finer city than the town of
Boston. It has been built long since Boston. I fancy Boston must lie
at a distance from this city, as the good woman seems ignorant of it."
At these words his horse began to chafe, and strike the pavement with
his fore feet; the stranger seemed a little bewildered, and said "No
home to-night," and, giving the reins to his horse, passed up the
street, and I saw no more of him.
It was evident that the generation to which Peter Rugg belonged had
passed away.
This was all the account of Peter Rugg I could obtain from Mrs. Croft;
but she directed me to an elderly man, Mr. James Felt, who lived near
her, and who had kept a record of the principal occurrences for the
last fifty years. At my request she sent for him; and, after I had
related to him the object of my inquiry, Mr. Felt told me he had known
Rugg in his youth; that his disappearance had caused some surprise;
but as it sometimes happens that men run away, sometimes to be rid of
others, and sometimes to be rid of themselves; and as Rugg took his
child with him, and his own horse and chair; and as it did not appear
that any creditors made a stir, the occurrence soon mingled itself in
the stream of oblivion; and Rugg and his child, horse and chair, were
soon forgotten. "It is true," said Mr. Felt, "sundry stories grew out
of Rugg's affair, whether true or false I cannot tell; but stranger
things have happened in my day, without even a newspaper notice.
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