to me it was evident that the strange horse was in reality a horse. Yet when the people left the race ground, I presume one half would have testified that a large black ox had distanced two of the fleetest coursers that ever trod the Virginia turf. So uncertain are all things called historical facts.
While I was proceeding to my lodgings, pondering on the events of the day, a stranger rode up to me and accosted me thus, "I think your name is Dunwell, sir?" "Yes sir," I replied. "Did I not see you a year or two since in Boston, at the Marlborough Hotel?" "Very likely sir, for I was there." "And you heard a story about one Peter Rugg?" "I recollect it all," said I. "The account you heard in Boston must be true, for here he was to-day. The man has found his way to Virginia, and for aught that appears, has been to Cape Horn. I have seen him before to-day, but never saw him travel with such fearful velocity. Pray sir, where does Peter Rugg spend his winters? for I have seen him only in summer, and always in foul weather, except at this time." I replied, "no one knows where Peter Rugg spends his winters; where he
