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PETER RUGG,

you not to mislead me; tell me quickly, for pity's sake, the right road to Boston, for you see my horse will swallow his bitts, for he has eaten nothing since I left Concord.' 'Sir,' said I, 'this town is Concord, Concord in Delaware, not Concord in Massachusetts; and you are now five hundred miles from Boston.' Rugg looked at me for a moment, more in sorrow than resentment, and then repeated, 'five hundred miles! unhappy man! who would have thought that he was deranged! But nothing is so deceitful as appearances, in this world. Five hundred miles! this beats Connecticut River.' What he meant by Connecticut River, I know not. His horse broke away and he disappeared in a moment."

I explained to the stranger the meaning of Rugg's expression, "Connecticut River," and the incident at Hartford, as I stood at the door of Mr. Bennett's excellent hotel. We both agreed that the man we had seen that day was the true Peter Rugg.

Soon after, I saw Rugg again at the toll-gate on the turnpike between Alexandria and Middleburgh. While I was paying the toll, I observed to the toll-gatherer that the effects