The worthy Milesian pocketed the money and declared
his intention of proceeding to Boston, which was only about forty miles
away, and taking the railroad for New York
"If I don't, ye see, yer honor, I'll never get back in time for the
Sunday; and the horses will be restin' in the cars."
As the man made his preparations and departed, Mr. P. stood and watched
him until he slowly faded out of sight.
When he had entirely disappeared, Mr. P. sat down upon the rock and
reflected. Now that he was here, what had he best do? He had never seen
the rock before, and as it struck him that possibly some of his patrons
might be in the same unfortunate condition, he concluded that he would
take a few sketches of it for their benefit. But he did not succeed very
well. The first drawing he made had a strange appearance. It looked more
like an old woman tied to a post, and surrounded by what seemed to be
flames, than anything else. This surely was not a correct view of this
famous rock, and so Mr. P. commenced another sketch. This, however,
looked so much like a man with a broad-brimmed hat, hanging by his neck
to a rope, that he concluded to try again.
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