eard of him." "Why, my friend," said James
Felt, "that Peter Rugg is now a living man I will not deny; but that
you have seen Peter Rugg and his child is impossible, if you mean a
small child, for Jenny Rugg, if living, must be at least--let me
see--Boston Massacre, 1770--Jenny Rugg was about ten years old. Why,
sir, Jenny Rugg if living must be more than sixty years of age. That
Peter Rugg is living is highly probable, as he was only ten years
older than myself; and I was only eighty last March, and I am as
likely to live twenty years longer as any man." Here I perceived that
Mr. Felt was in his dotage, and I despaired of gaining any
intelligence from him on which I could depend.

I took my leave of Mrs. Croft, and proceeded to my lodgings at the
Marlborough Hotel.

If Peter Rugg, thought I, has been travelling since the Boston
Massacre, there is no reason why he should not travel to the end of
time. If the present generation know little of him, the next will know
less, and Peter and his child will have no hold on this world.

In the course of the evening I related my adventure in Middle Street.
"Ha!" said one of the company, smiling, "do you really think you have
seen Peter Rugg? I have heard my grandfather speak of him as though he
seriously believed his own story." "Sir," said I, "pray let us compare
your grandfather's story of Mr. Rugg with my own." "Peter Rugg, sir,
if my grandfather was worthy of credit, once lived in Middle Street,
in this city. He was a man in comfortable circumstances, had a wife
and one daughter, and was generally esteemed for his sober life and
manners. But unhappily his temper at times was altogether
ungovernable, and then his language was terrible. In these fits of
passion, if a door stood in his way he would never do less than kick a
panel through. He would sometimes throw his heels over his head, and
come down on his feet, uttering oaths in a circle. And thus, in a
rage, he was the first who performed a somerset, and did what others
have since learned to do for merriment and money. Once Rugg was seen
to bite a tenpenny nail in halves. In those days everybody, both men
and boys, wore wigs; and Peter, at these moments of violent passion,
would become so profane that his wig would rise up from his head. Some
said it was on account of his terrible language; others accounted for
it in a more philosophical way, and said it was caused by the
expansion of his scalp, as violent passion, we kno