w, will swell the
veins and expand the head. While these fits were on him, Rugg had no
respect for heaven or earth. Except this infirmity, all agreed that
Rugg was a good soft of a man; for when his fits were over, nobody was
so ready to commend a placid temper as Peter.

"It was late in autumn, one morning, that Rugg, in his own chair, with
a fine large bay horse, took his daughter and proceeded to Concord. On
his return a violent storm overtook him. At dark he stopped in
Menotomy (now West Cambridge), at the door of a Mr. Cutter, a friend
of his, who urged him to tarry overnight. On Rugg's declining to stop,
Mr. Cutter urged him vehemently. 'Why, Mr. Rugg,' said Cutter, 'the
storm is overwhelming you; the night is exceeding dark; your little
daughter will perish; you are in an open chair, and the tempest is
increasing.' '_Let the storm increase_,' said Rugg, with a fearful
oath, '_I will see home to-night, in spite of the last tempest! or may
I never see home_.' At these words he gave his whip to his
high-spirited horse, and disappeared in a moment. But Peter Rugg did
not reach home that night, nor the next; nor, when he became a missing
man, could he ever be traced beyond Mr. Cutter's in Menotomy. For a
long time after, on every dark and stormy night, the wife of Peter
Rugg would fancy she heard the crack of a whip, and the fleet tread of
a horse, and the rattling of a carriage, passing her door. The
neighbours, too, heard the same noises, and some said they knew it was
Rugg's horse; the tread on the pavement was perfectly familiar to
them. This occurred so repeatedly that at length the neighbours
watched with lanterns, and saw the real Peter Rugg, with his own horse
and chair, and child sitting beside him, pass directly before his own
door, his head turning toward his house, and himself making every
effort to stop his horse, but in vain. The next day the friends of
Mrs. Rugg exerted themselves to find her husband and child. They
inquired at every public house and stable in town; but it did not
appear that Rugg made any stay in Boston. No one, after Rugg had
passed his own door, could give any account of him; though it was
asserted by some that the clatter of Rugg's horse and carriage over
the pavements shook the houses on both sides of the street. And this
is credible, if, indeed, Rugg's horse and carriage did pass on that
night. For at this day, in many of the streets, a loaded truck or team
in passing will shake