stake! How much this looks like the town of
Boston! It certainly has a great resemblance to it; but I perceive my
mistake now. Some other Mrs. Rugg, some other Middle Street." Then
said he, "Madam, can you direct me to Boston?" "Why, this is Boston,
the city of Boston. I know of no other Boston." "City of Boston it may
be, but it is not the Boston where I live. I recollect now, I came
over a bridge instead of a ferry. Pray what bridge is that I just came
over?" "It is Charles River Bridge." "I perceive my mistake; there is
a ferry between Boston and Charlestown, there is no bridge. Ah, I
perceive my mistake. If I was in Boston, my horse would carry me
directly to my own door. 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."
"Sir," said I, "Peter Rugg is now living. I have lately seen Peter
Rugg and his child, horse and chair; therefore I pray you to relate to
me all you know or ever h